Scorched

“Do you think the sister you remember is inside her somewhere?”

“Goddess knows. I think an awful lot has happened to her over the years, and I know she blames herself for our parents’ deaths.”

“I think she’s angry,” he offered. Was the stake the first clue?

“Whatever. I don’t want her back in this house. Who knows what she’d do next.” Holly let go of his hands and wiped her face dry with her fingers, clearly exhausted. “But we can’t leave her there. Sweet Hecate, I can’t believe my family is fighting like this.”

Alessandro put his hand to her cheek. As always, she felt warm to him, hot and vital. “I’m part of your family?”

She looked at him, her brows drawn together. “Absolutely. The most important part.”

“Thank you.” Then are you really afraid to introduce me at the reunion? Does it bother you that I can’t give you children? Will you still love me when you realize the cost of living with a man who is so different? Who has no family of his own?

He knew some of his doubts were Ashe’s poison at work. Alessandro forced himself to let them go. “What do you want me to do?”

“Just—let Mac deal with it.”

“Mac?” That was the last thing he expected her to say. “What can he do that I can’t?”

Holly shrugged, trying to look casual and missing by a mile. “Finding a missing person is kind of, y’know, cop stuff. He’s trained to talk to crazy people, and Lore said Mac’s going into the Castle, anyway. Plus, Mac owes me.”

“And he’s expendable if Ashe decides to take him out?”

“Of course not!”

“Then why is it okay to risk him?”

“Have you talked to Lore today?”

“No.” He intended to tear the alpha a new one about the hounds’ poor guard duty performance. He had a feeling the hound, like any smart dog with a mess to its name, was making himself scarce.

Holly seemed to slump even more. “Mac’s ... well, from the sound of it, the demon caught up with him in this other weird way.”

Alessandro’s eyes narrowed. “How weird? In what way?”

“Physically.” Holly told him what Lore had told her.

Unable to sit still any longer, Alessandro got to his feet and started to pace. “I was just beginning to trust Mac. It seems I was wrong.”

“I’m not sure about that. He didn’t sound, y’know, evil.”

For how long? If the demon taint was on a roll, who knew what else might change? “I should have asked this before. Is there any way you can reverse what’s happening to him? Your magic made him half human before.”

Holly shook her head. “That was a complete accident. The only thing I know how to do with demons is fry them to cinders. Pure blunt force. I’d kill him.”

“Then is he powerful enough to deal with your sister? She’s a good fighter.”

“Sounds like he is.”

Alessandro wasn’t sure he liked that answer. He took a few more steps, then stopped. “It isn’t that I want Ashe dead. I hoped putting her in the Castle would teach her a lesson. Show her there are worse things than a vampire trying to keep the town safe. That we’re not...” He trailed off, unable to find the right words.

Holly’s expression was sad. “You’re not all evil.”

“Not as long as I have options.”

Alessandro reached down, rubbing away a stray tear from her chin. He was so grateful for her. She made him, if not human, much less of a monster. “You’re sure you don’t want me to handle your sister?”

“No, I’m sure Mac will help, and Ashe doesn’t have a beef with him. It’ll be easier this way.”

“But...”

“I’m right about this.”

Alessandro wasn’t so sure. On the positive side, if Ashe and Mac kill each other, that’s two of my problems solved. But he didn’t mean it.

He should have been happy to wash his hands of an annoying situation. He should have liked the blade-clean logic of two dangerous individuals annihilating each other. He didn’t.

He wanted it all to work out, for everyone’s sake. Bloodshed wasn’t the answer.

Novel thought, for a vampire.

Maybe Mac isn’t the only one changing.

Mac ran through the corridors of the Castle at an easy, gliding pace, sword drawn. Dusting through the maze was faster, but that only worked if he knew where he was going. Connie had given him some useful information, but to conduct a search he needed solid contact with his surroundings.

He’d left Connie asleep. After she’d told him what she knew about the guardsmen’s lair, they’d made love again. Twice.

It had sated them both and exhausted her, sending her into a deep, comalike slumber. He’d held Connie for a long time, studying the soft curves of her face and body. There was no inch of her skin that he hadn’t touched that night, and he knew without doubt he would touch, taste, and claim it again.

His inner caveman beat his chest and roared with jubilation. Today it was good to be Mac the Barbarian.

He stopped at a crossing of corridors. The wavering torchlight showed one hallway curved away to the right. To the left, the stonework had crumbled like a giant fist had punched through the wall. A vast cavern loomed beyond.

Connie had mentioned this place. He hopped up the rubble, using the fallen stones as a stairway to the gaping hole a dozen feet above. The section of missing wall was more than man-height, the thickness of the stones uneven and treacherous. He balanced there, looking into the darkness. A hot, sour wind seemed to rise from below, flowing up the chimneylike cavern. His hair floated away from his face, caught by the breeze. There were fires far, far below, flickering like the stars of an upside-down sky. They called to him, blinking like mysterious eyes. No one, Connie’d said, had ever ventured into those depths.

Maybe he would someday, just to find out what or who lived there. Maybe dragons? A tingle of excitement rippled through him. That would be cool.

He could almost feel the Castle agree. It wanted to be explored. Everything about it spoke of neglect, but who was to say it had to be that way?

Connie had told him Reynard’s tales of collapsing corridors and disappearing rooms. Was there a specific cause, Mac wondered, or was the magic that made the place simply winding down? Were the rumors true at all? He knew how fast a lie could travel around a lockup. Who was to say the Castle was any different?

Still, it was a good reminder to stay alert.

Mac jumped down, landing easily, and kept on walking, following the left-hand corridor. Truth be told, he was enjoying this new body’s stamina. The more he used it, the better it felt. Plus, it seemed to be settling down. His clothes were too tight again, but the change was not as dramatic as before.

Just as well. There was a limit to how much size was actually useful.

He started to run, covering ground in a relaxed lope. The punched-out-wall phenomenon repeated itself a few more times, and then the wall between him and the cavern gave up altogether. Mac ran for about another half hour, barely breathing hard.

In the distance, he could hear the sound of voices. Probably one of the settlements that drifted around the Castle, moving as the warlords claimed and lost territory, established their courts and then surrendered to rivals. Politics in the Castle was an endless chess game, one Mac had been too insignificant to play. Not that he’d wanted to. He’d just wanted out.

The noise grew more distinct, coming from his left across a vast, wild space of crumbled granite. Curiosity tempted him to look. He climbed up an easy slope of rock, pushing higher and higher until he could see the source of the babble.