BAPTISM BY FIRE
Interlude One of the RuneQuest
By Keira Ramsay
Smashwords Edition
Published by
Keira Ramsay on Smashwords
Copyright © 2011 T.L. Schaefer
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DEDICATION: This one’s for my chicas … Pat Forte, Chrissie Henderson, Dee Knight, Jennifer Skully & Leigh Wyndfield … y’all made it a MUCH better story.
Prologue
I am Rhiannon, Moira of the Clan, keeper of the fates, champion of the Fae. Sanctioner of those who would deviate from the prescribed path.
The title of Moira has long been ascribed to the Greeks, but that is incorrect; it has been ours for time unending.
What no one understands, except those who assume the mantle of Moira, is the awesome responsibility we are assigned at birth. Divining the fate of my brethren, be they of wind or earth, fire or sea was never so tiring as these last few months.
Chants have floated on the wind, calling to the very runes I use to determine the balance of our lives. Calling to the four stones lost in the mists of time, and therefore leave our lives and destinies incomplete, even after two hundred years of searching.
The future of the Fae now hangs in the balance between love and hate, life and death. Choices made by the unknowing could tip both the destiny of the Fae and humankind either way. Only the free-willed return of the runes will ensure their true, unfettered power.
What troubles me most, though, is the thought I may soon have to attempt to wield the sword of Sanction, and destroy my brothers and sisters in the process.
As a spirit of air, it goes against my very nature. As Moira, it is my life’s calling.
After all, without fate, what is there?
This is not my story, but in truth, how the recovery of those precious four runes and the final call to power of the modern-day Fae began.
Chapter One
Charged fire hoses snaked across the pockmarked parking lot of what had once been a warehouse. Now its smoldering husk was backlit by the bloody glow of emergency lights against the inky San Diego night.
Aidan Hughes squinted smoke-teared eyes. Three engine companies ... too little, too late.
He strode through the swirling mass of turnout-clad firefighters, splashing through mini-lakes and the delicate spray arcing from the hydrants nearest the building. The crowd of exhausted smoke-eaters parted before him like the Red Sea. Something about the blue windbreaker he wore, MAST emblazoned across the breast and back of the jacket, always moved the troops.
Raising his face to the sky, he drew the moistened, charcoal-scented air in deep, tasting it on the back of his tongue.
There it was--the same sulfurous perfume he’d detected at the last two fires. It was nothing his fellow firefighters would ever distinguish, nor even the most seasoned of arson investigators. This was something meant for his senses alone. Another of his clan had been here, and the thought shook him no less now than it had the first time.
He dropped his head, eyes boring into the darkness, willing his adversary to make himself known, to end this game before more human lives were lost.
The fire chief bulled his way up to him. “Whaddya think, Hughes?”
Aidan pulled his eyes from the wrecked building and the uncompromising night behind it. “Same as the last two. We’ll find the same mystery accelerant, middle of the building.”
“You’re fucking amazing, Hughes. How do you know this shit?”
How indeed? He wondered what the captain would say if he told him he had almost a hundred years of experience as Fae, and his clan’s signature was fire. The Salamanders were suited to only two things ... starting fires, and fighting them.
Ignoring the chief’s question, he asked a more important one. “Anybody inside this time?”
“Not so we can tell. This building’s actually used by the university, not abandoned like the last one. Guard was taking a leak over by the trees when the whole thing went up. Said it looked like a fucking bomb went off.”
Aidan’s lips twisted in a mocking grin. If only the chief knew. “You guys about done?”
“Yeah, there’s a few hot spots, but you should be fine, especially wearing those shit-kickers.” The chief nodded his head at Aidan’s steel-toed boots. They didn’t exactly mesh with the tuxedo slacks, shirt and bowtie he wore beneath the blazer. His dress shoes were back in his car, along with the rest of his gear. “Love the get-up. Where were you this time?”
“Mayor’s Ball.” Aidan cracked a smile. “You should have seen Gomez’ face when my beeper went off.”
The chief shared his amusement. “Bet that put a wrinkle in his Jockeys.”
“To say the least. I’ll go ahead and suit up while you finish mop-up.” Aidan turned, walking back through the parking lot to his SUV. Stripping off the blazer, he pulled his turnouts from the cargo area of the truck, stepping into the fire-retardant pants and jacket.
The chief’s night was probably over, barring any other torches. His had just begun.
Chapter Two
Leanan Murphy pushed the strap of her agonizingly heavy purse off her shoulder, digging for her ever-elusive keys.
Aha, gotcha, you little buggers, she crowed silently as her fingers closed around the cold steel. Her victory was short lived.
“Doctor Murphy?” The voice behind her was warm, seductive, and shot through her like a dose of good Irish whiskey. Pivoting, she gazed appreciatively at the prime male specimen lounging against the wall opposite her office. Tall, dark hair, rangy build, with a set of to-die-for blue eyes. Brad Pitt ... eat your heart out.
Her head had to be in the clouds if she’d missed him the first time around. Coffee. She definitely needed coffee.
She dropped the keys back into the cavernous depths of her purse and extended her hand. “Yes, I’m Doctor Murphy. What can I do for you?”
“Aidan Hughes, Metro Arson Strike Team.” His hand engulfed hers, and for just a moment, she swore sparks flew between their fingers.
MAST? Even she’d heard of them, in her obscure academic life. They were a combination of fire investigators, cops, ATF and FBI agents who were taking the danger of arson fires to the people, instructing parents, teachers and youngsters on the warning signs of what an arsonist might “look” like.
If they were recruiting guys like this, then she was all for educating the populace.
“MAST, huh? I can’t imagine what you’d want with me, but hold on for just a sec, and I can get us some caffeine and privacy.” She dug back into her purse, miraculously locating her keys within a few seconds--a first.
The smell of fresh-perked coffee from the automatic machine met her nose.
She waved the out-of-uniform hunk to a seat in front of her desk and hit the coffee credenza.
“How do you take it?”
“Excuse me?”
“How do you take your coffee?”
“Oh, sorry. I’m a bit punchy this morning. Black, please.”
“Coming up.” She poured two cups, adding a generous dollop of the Irish-crème flavored creamer she adored, then slid behind her desk after handing his mug over.
“So what can I do for you, Mr. Hughes? Or should I call you Detective, or maybe Agent?”
“Just Aidan is good, Doctor.”
Leanan smiled. On a first-name basis already? This morning just got better and better. She couldn’t imagine a nicer way to start the day than flirting with a handsome stranger.
“Please, don’t call me Doctor ... it makes me feel old and stodgy. Leanan is fine.”
“Very well, Leanan.” He paused, looking at her intently. “Unusual name, especially given your office.” He swung a hand around, encompassing the unique wall art and figurines crowding her desk, the windowsill and credenza. They were her pride and joy. Fairies, gnomes, and sylphs, in every medium from glass to clay to marble, danced across the desk, benevolently watched over by a large oil painting of her namesake, Leanan Sidhe, the most beautiful and provocative water elemental of all.
“Do I detect a bit of a brogue, Aidan? While lots of people comment on my name, not too many figure out the significance, at least not so quickly.”
He grinned, making him even more breathtaking. “My clan refused to let us grow up without learning our history. What, may I ask, is your degree in?”
Leanan returned his smile with one of her own. This was so much fun, and she hadn’t had this kind of fun in a very long time. Maybe Aidan Hughes was just what she needed to bring her out of her funk, in more ways than one. Nothing would ever come of it, but it was enjoyable, even so. “Mythological Studies. Can’t you tell?”
“That’s kind of what I figured.” Then he became somber, serious, and her good mood was dashed as quickly as it had begun.
“I’m afraid I’m here for something less than pleasant, Leanan. I need to talk to you about what happened in your warehouse last night.”
Leanan crunched her forehead in confusion. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“I was told you were in charge of the warehouse over by the airport.”
“Well, sort of,” she answered slowly, still puzzled. “We house some of our older texts and some antiquities there, in addition to some of the theater props the drama folks haven’t used in a while. It’s basically a catch-all storage space for most of the university, broken up by department.” The reason behind his presence slowly sank in. “It’s gone, isn’t it? That’s the only reason you’d be in my office.”
“I’m afraid so, Leanan. I was sent to you first because your department’s inventory was probably the most valuable, at least in terms of replacement.”
Leanan lurched back in her chair, the hinges creaking as she contemplated the utter loss with horror.
“It can’t be replaced, any of it. It’s one of the reasons the exhibit wasn’t here at SDSU, why the warehouse was guarded,” she breathed, staring sightlessly at her hands, which she’d balled into fists.
The warm contact of Aidan’s hand on her shoulder jolted her. It was surprising because she hadn’t even seen him move around the desk. She looked up at him angrily. She wasn’t furious with him, but with the person who could so blithely destroy something so precious. “I wasn’t truthful with you a moment ago, because we’ve been very careful about what we publicly kept in the warehouse. It did house some other department’s things, but it was more. We were using it as storage for a museum exhibit we’re going to open next month in cooperation with the Corcoran.” It didn’t matter the exhibit would have been the culmination of her career. What mattered was all of the beautiful art, the priceless antiquities and texts, were now reduced to ashes. “Is anything left?”
Aidan squeezed her shoulder, shooting heat through her entire body and curling her toes. “I’m sorry, it’s gone, all of it.”
“Well, shit. Excuse me, but that pretty much describes it in a nutshell.”
He dropped his hand and resumed his seat. The heat she’d felt disappeared instantly, and for a moment she mourned its loss almost as much as she mourned her magnificent collection.
“You’re right, that does describe it well. You’ll need to start with an inventory for the insurance adjustors, but I wanted to be the one to tell you, and to find out if you were aware of any accelerants in the building.”
“No, we were especially careful with anything that could possibly damage the exhibit, simply because the tapestries and texts were irreplaceable.” She pushed the agony of what had been destroyed away, desperately needing to deal with this in a businesslike manner, just as her position demanded. She’d have time for recrimination later.
“Was there anyone who seemed to have a particular interest in the storage areas? Someone who didn’t belong or asked strange questions?”
Leanan shook her head. “Again, no. The contents were closely held. Only myself, the dean, a few students, and several of the museum’s docents knew exactly what was in there. And no one acted out of the ordinary. We were all excited about the surprise exhibit, wanted to knock everyone’s socks off with our opening, and then move the whole thing to Sea World for the tourist crush.” She was babbling, but couldn’t bring herself to care. Gone. Five years of hard work and even harder acquisitions, all gone in a flash of flame. Damn. It was back again, the emptiness of having lost something which never truly belonged to her in the first place.
Squaring her shoulders, she met his eyes. Startling blue and filled with compassion, Aidan Hughes was any red-blooded American girl’s fantasy--even hers--but right now, she had to deal with reality. “Is there anything else? I need to get with the dean and start figuring out where to go from here. And to top it off, I’ve got a nine o’clock class on Folklore and Fairy Tales. If you’ll give me just a moment, I’ll get the names of the students who worked on the project with me. I’m assuming you’ll want to talk to them.”
Aidan nodded sympathetically, as if he understood her brusqueness, and the reason behind it. But there was something else behind his nod, something she couldn’t quite get a grasp on.
She dipped her head in confusion and wrote the names of the participating students down on a Post-It note as an excuse to ignore his look. Her life was in enough of a shambles right now; she didn’t need to add a hot arson investigator to the mix, even if he was scrumptious. He handed her a business card and pasted the sticky in his notebook. “If you think of anything, and I mean anything, give me a call, day or night.”
Leanan took the card, wishing for just a moment, amid the chaos that had become her life, he really meant the “night” part of his statement as more than a business offering.
* * * *
Lush. It was the only way to describe Doctor Leanan Murphy, Aidan decided as he pulled into Fire Station 1 on First Street, where MAST was headquartered.
From her midnight-dark hair and unusual tawny eyes to her generous breasts and hips, she flashed a fire and radiance that reminded him of the gypsies of old. This was not some model-thin impersonation of a woman, but the real thing, shaped by time and fate as carefully and masterfully as a Botticelli.
It had been a long time since a woman had truly caught his interest. Oh, he wasn’t without female company on any given day, but most of the time it stemmed from his desire to be around women, not any woman in particular. Suddenly, this morning, everything changed.
He found it ironic the first woman to set off a spark within him in years was also his direct opposite, at least in name. Leanan, Daughter of the Sea God. The one deity in all the worlds who could put out the flame of a Salamander, if she chose. It was a damned good thing this Leanan was a mortal.
Aidan shook his head with amusement. He’d never expected to find a true complement, here of all places. And while his ultimate destiny awaited him back in Ireland, in the company of his clan, it intrigued him to think about the merry chase a woman like Leanan Murphy could lead him on, and the more than ample rewards he could collect.
As much as he would like to follow such a course, he had bigger things to do, namely tracking down the Salamander responsible for using his awesome power in a human environment. It was not only foolhardy, but forbidden by their people, and would result in expedient, ruthless Sanctioning.
Personally, Aidan didn’t have the stomach to act as Moira. Rhiannon, his playmate of old had donned the hat and taken on the responsibility of assigning every creature in the Realm their lot in life, be it on the outside, as in Aidan’s case, or aiding their people from within. Unfortunately, the Moira also held the final responsibility in Sanctioning.
Aidan knew Rhiannon, with the backing of the High Council, should be here within a day of his report, searching for the one who dared to stray beyond the confines of the Realm.
In truth, he had waited two fires too long to contact the clan, but he had to be sure, had to know what he suspected was true before calling on the Moira. He would do it tonight, for contacting the Realm required solitude and concentration. Right now, he needed to check in and maintain appearances.
He stepped from the SUV into the picture-perfect San Diego morning, greeting firefighters as they continued the never-ending process of cleaning their rig.
“Hey, Inspector. What’s the world coming to when a white shirt rolls in before lunch?” jibed Mikey Alvarez, one of the few people he was fortunate enough to call friend, at least in the Outer World.
The attitude of the smoke-eaters was always different when they were away from the fire, at least in how they treated Aidan. Even though they were on the same team, arson investigators were cops, “white shirts”, different from the regular troops, and that difference was never more evident than in the aftermath of a blaze.
“Hell, Mikey, gotta keep you on your toes, don’t I?”
Alvarez chuckled and fell into step with Aidan. “So what’s the good word, Hughes?”
The fireman was referring to last night’s fire. “Same shit as before, Mikey.” He raked a hand through his hair, not really faking his frustration. While he knew what had set the blaze, who was still an overriding question.
“I go off shift at four, wanna get together and hit Old Town?”
Aidan shook his head. “Love to, but I’ve got to call home. And you know my mathair, it may take a while.”
Mikey laughed. “One of these days I’m going to have to meet your mom, she sounds ... interesting.”
Fat chance, unless you’re planning on hanging out in the middle of a remote forest in Ireland, chanting incantations lost to humans for two centuries.
* * * *
Leanan’s hand paused in mid-knock. She could not believe she was standing on Inspector Aidan Hughes’ doorstep. While she certainly had a purpose behind the visit besides the rampant hormones that had plagued her all day and into the twilight hours, she certainly could have used the telephone.
Finding the address on Aidan’s business card was residential, rather than MAST headquarters, had taken her by surprise and intrigued her. The house she stood in front of now gave her the same feeling.
It was a quaint cottage tucked away under the trees of an older neighborhood, reminding her of Aidan’s barely-heard brogue. It pulled her under his spell as surely as his presence had. Night jasmine scented the warm, dusky air, soothing and arousing her senses in equal measures.
Enough of this. She shook herself mentally. I’ll turn around, march right back to my car, and call him from my place. It’s not like I have to invent a reason to get a date, and I’ve got more than enough to do trying to reconstruct the exhibit.
Instead, against all better sense, she let her hand fall, palm now open, against the carved mahogany door.
A surge of something hot and desperately primal arrowed through her as her palm flattened against the ornate wood. Sucking in a breath, she yanked her hand back, rubbing it against her shorts, watching shell-shocked as silvery, watery mist rose from the unmistakable mark of her palm against the door. What in the holy hell is that?
Her instincts told her to turn around, to be the rational woman she almost always was. Things like this did not happen to a professor. They just didn’t. Almost against her will, her hand returned to the door. Anticipating the jolt this time, she pushed.
Eerie, powerful sensations shot through her again, head to toe, crackling the hair on her nape. The door swung open silently.
Her eyes adjusted slowly to the dim light, then were drawn to the magnificent, fully lit fireplace, which sizzled and spit as if in defiance of the temperate night. And hovering in front of the blaze was a small, winged figure bathed in a blue shroud of energy.
Transfixed, Leanan watched as the phantasm swung her way in slow motion. She could actually see the shimmer of its movements against the dark room as its delicate body pivoted. Her eyes locked on the almond-shaped, tilted gaze of the fairy, and in a flash, it was gone, disappearing in a streak of cerulean light that arced across the room like an afterthought.
She shook her head once. Again.
The second shake brought her to her senses. She was definitely seeing things. She wasn’t ten years old any more, imagining the flit and flare of fairies around an ancient gnarled oak. This was San Diego, not Ireland, and it was time to get the hell out of Dodge. She’d call the delectable Aidan Hughes in the morning when she had her wits about her and miles of telephone cable between them.
Too late.
Aidan strode out of a back room, wearing low-slung shorts and little else. If she’d thought he was gorgeous this morning, she’d been seriously delusional. Aidan was, quite simply, the most stunning example of prime male flesh she’d ever seen, and every inch screamed man! Her mouth went dry as her eyes devoured his sculpted chest, abs and horseman’s thighs. A jolt of desire shocked her nerve endings, setting everything on fire and rooted her firmly in place.
“Leanan? Doctor Murphy?”
Leanan shook her head, this time to rattle some comprehensible words of salutation into it.
She was in serious trouble.
“Um, Aidan, hi,” she began weakly, still staring at his chest. Forcing her eyes upward, she swallowed hard when she saw the amused expression on his face. How was she supposed to explain why she’d come?
Then it hit her. She really did have a reason for showing up here. “I, uh, had some information I thought you could use.” As the words left her mouth, she realized how totally lame they sounded. God, could she be any more pathetic? She was the youngest professor to ever seek tenure at SDSU, and right now she sounded every bit of her thirty sheltered years.
Aidan’s eyes snared hers; the smoldering heat he projected nearly had her melting into a puddle at his feet.
They stared at each other, and each second intensified the experience until Leanan swore she could feel his hands on her breasts, brushing the hardened tips of her nipples, sending liquid fire to her core. Her clit throbbed in time to her heartbeat. The air thickened until she was panting in quick little bursts, barely able to catch her breath. Each inhalation became a sensual, carnal experience unlike anything she’d ever felt. Ever.
A particularly loud crackle from the fire broke the moment, slingshotting Leanan back into herself. Drawing in shuddering breaths, she stared at Aidan, trying to ignore the moisture between her legs, the pounding of her heart, the insistent press of her nipples against the suddenly too-tight t-shirt.
Aidan was no less affected than she, if the tent in his shorts was any indication. His chest gleamed with sweat and he visibly trembled as he glared angrily at the fireplace. Leanan heard him mutter something like “a pox upon you, Rhiannon,” before he swung those mesmerizing blue eyes back to her.
He exhaled loudly. “How about we start again? Come on back to the kitchen and I’ll get us something cold to drink.”
Leanan sighed in relief. Whatever it had been, she was free from it for a moment. Even if she didn’t really, deep down in her heart and body, want to be.
Chapter Three
Aidan poured two glasses of Chardonnay, proud his hands didn’t betray the tremors still racing through him. His cock was doing a dance of its own, demanding to be let out and complete the mating ritual begun so torridly moments ago.
He wasn’t sure what had happened back there in the living room, but his body and soul had responded to Leanan Murphy as it never had to anyone. How could a mere mortal draw him so? And why did it shake him right down to the marrow?
Turning, he pressed the cool, stemmed glass into Leanan’s hand. “Please, have a seat.” He gestured to one of the four chairs surrounding the old oak table, pleased when she took the seat directly opposite him. He needed as much distance from her as possible, at least until he figured out exactly what she’d seen.
He’d been deep in conversation with Rhiannon when his locked and warded door had swung open, and even though the room had been dark, lit only by the ritual fire, it was possible the good doctor had seen more than she should have.
“So,” he began, glancing down at the glass of wine framed between his hands, looking anywhere but at her. “What can I do for you, Leanan?”
It wasn’t purposeful, the way her name slipped across his lips like a lover’s song, but it was there, and there seemed to be nothing he could do to stop it. Nor could he stop the want, the need to look up at her, to watch her expressive face as she answered his question.
Her eyes darkened from that unique golden color to almost brown, pupils dilating as she studied him across the table. The scent of her arousal teased the air around him for a long moment, and then she shook her head slightly, shrouding her face behind a mane of dark hair.
When she surfaced again, it was as if another woman had taken her place. The woman who had flirted with him this morning, the woman who had been a hair’s-breath of consummating something beyond words this evening, was replaced by the professor, anguished to find her collection had been destroyed.
“I think I may have a lead for you.”
With those words, Aidan’s purpose was restored. He could handle his libido ... the rogue Fae was another thing altogether.
He reached back, snagging a pen and tablet from the counter and faced her again. “Go on.”
Something like relief flooded Leanan’s features. Yes, it was relief, and it was then he realized Leanan Murphy was as disconcerted by the strong pull of attraction between them as he was. For some reason, it spiked his interest even more.
“This morning I told you there wasn’t anyone strange hanging out at the exhibit, and there wasn’t,” she quickly amended. “But I’ve got a new kid in my class, a mid-semester add-on and he’s a bit odd. Sits apart from the other students. He’s very knowledgeable about folklore, and while he never volunteers anything, he always has the answers when I call on him. His papers are nothing short of brilliant. To be honest, I was thinking of asking him to be an aide next semester.”
Aidan rolled the pen absently between his fingers. “So what’s so odd about him? Maybe he’s just shy.”
“That’s what I thought. Until he missed my class today. I knew it was something he’d been looking forward to, so I was concerned. After class, I went to the dean’s office to get his address. Then I went to see if he was home.”
Without thinking, Aidan exploded out of his chair, the thought of the risk she’d taken shaking him to the core. What if she’d confronted the rogue from his clan? She could have been killed. He stalked around the table until he stood directly in front of her, towering over her. “You did what?”
“I went to his address.”
“Did you once stop to think how dangerous searching him out was? How stupid?”
Leanan surged up and poked him in the chest with a finger. Hard. “It’s not stupid; it’s called being a good teacher. It’s not like I was even thinking of the fire. I was just worried about my student.” Absolute fury claimed the fine lines of her face, and instead of making her look ugly or bitter, it emphasized the passion he now understood she was capable of. “Don’t you ever call me stupid again.”
Aidan drew in deep breaths, trying to calm himself. His mind kept flashing on her burning alive, flames leaping from her body as she died and everything inside him screamed to protect her, to make sure she was safe.
He needed to ground himself, and clasped her arms. Gently, so she couldn’t break his grip. “Listen to me closely, Leanan. Our suspect has already burned three warehouses to the ground, and killed a vagrant in one just two weeks ago. Going to your student’s house was foolhardy and could’ve gotten you hurt. What if he’s my arsonist?” He released his hold, running his hands slowly down her arms to grasp her hands. “Promise me you won’t do anything like that again.”
“I promise,” she answered shakily. When she lifted her eyes to his, he could see her anger had changed to something else, something elemental--and dangerous--for both of them. His pulse soared in response, and it took everything he had not to swoop down and claim her mouth with his, finishing what they’d started back in the living room.
Disengaging their hands, he pushed down on her shoulders, guiding her into a chair before he circled the table and reclaimed his own.
“I didn’t mean to call you stupid.” Aidan took a long sip of wine, giving himself time to control his expression and heartbeat. His own reaction to what she’d said had his mind in a whirl. He’d never felt such an overwhelming compulsion to protect, defend at all costs. “You scared me,” he finished simply, placing the glass on the table.
Leanan’s indrawn breath forced him to glance up. Her eyes were locked on his, filled inexplicably with moisture. Those unshed tears undid him and he started to stand, to go to her, when she held up a hand, forestalling him.
“I’m sorry,” her voice wavered, but the strength behind it was obvious. “I’ve never had a stranger, hell, even my own father, express so much concern over me.”
Aidan fought back a grin, relieved and a little bit amused at the reason behind her mistiness. “Not to sound presumptuous, Leanan, but I get the feeling you and I are anything but strangers.” The words hung in the air for a long moment and he could almost see the air thicken between them again.
Purpose, Aidan reminded himself forcefully, he had a purpose here, and it wasn’t bedding Leanan Murphy, as much as he would like to. He needed to expend his energy and attention on his mission.
He broke the building web with much less subtlety than he’d like. “So what happened when you went to visit your odd student?”
Leanan gaped for a moment, then regained herself, the mist in her eyes vanishing. She stiffened her spine, sitting up straight. Aidan wondered if he’d gone about shifting the subject in the wrong way, even if it was for the best.
“You’re right.”
Aidan wasn’t sure if she was referring to his “strangers” comment, or to the change of subject. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know at this point. The woman across the table puzzled and aroused him in equal measures. It wasn’t a feeling he was accustomed to and he didn’t like it.
“Ian’s home was a burned out shell down in Hillcrest.” She referred to the less-affluent neighborhood surrounding the university, where down-on-their-luck students lived. “That’s what made the connection in my mind, made me think you needed to know.”
Aidan mused over her revelation, anger at the rogue Fae building in him again. The pieces were certainly coincidental enough, and getting more “official” information on the mysterious, odd student shouldn’t be difficult, given the fact the university had suffered such a heavy loss. What he did unofficially was another scenario altogether.
“Thank you. While I still object to how you got the information, you might have given me the lead I need to find this bastun.”
*
The vehemence in Aidan’s reply shouldn’t have surprised Leanan, but it did. It was obvious to her now. His demeanor this morning hadn’t hinted that finding this arsonist was personal to Aidan.
It made him all the more attractive and for the life of her, she couldn’t think of one good reason to squelch her desire for him. She wondered what an affair with him would be like and flashed back to the moment in the living room. And it had been a moment ... one she’d been relieved to see end because it was so unexpected.
She considered him across the table.
No, it wasn’t going to happen tonight, or maybe ever, simply because Aidan personified the unexpected, and she liked her affairs hot, discreet and fast. Everything about Aidan Hughes screamed of long, sultry kisses and damp sheets, and as intriguing as her body might find the concept, she couldn’t and wouldn’t let her mind wrap around it. Regaining control, of both her profession and her life, was something she’d fought long and hard for, and the man across the table had her reacting in ways far surpassing her comfort zone.
Never mind the fact she couldn’t afford the distraction of having a man in her life right now, especially not a man as vital as Aidan. Not with the exhibit in ashes. As enjoyable as a brief fling might be, her professional life was on the rocks. She would need every bit of her time and attention focused on making the exhibit a success with the odds and ends she had kept in her office and home.
The thought was enough to depress her all over again. She needed to pull her head out of the clouds and go home.
With her decision made, she picked up her wineglass and took a last sip before standing.
“Give me a minute to make a call, please?”
Torn. She was seriously torn, but in the end, did what she knew to be best. “I really should be going. Thank you for the wine.” Turning, she walked through the living room to the front door, actually feeling Aidan behind her as he escorted her. While it certainly gave her a delicious shiver, Aidan Hughes--hell, any man--was off limits until she could stand triumphantly at the doors of the Corcoran on opening day.
She shot a glance at the fireplace as she passed, feeling a smile kick up at the corner of her mouth. Damned if her imagination wasn’t fanciful tonight. It was Ireland all over again.
“What’s so funny?” Aidan’s voice came from directly behind her and rumbled through her body, stoking the fire that had been banked within.
Her physical response and wandering thoughts had her answering absentmindedly.
“Nothing, I was just being goofy earlier, seeing things in the fire.”
Aidan’s presence behind her intensified as he drew in closer until he almost touched her. Almost. A brief flash of panic skittered through her, as titillating as it was frightening.
“And what did you see, Leanan Murphy?” His honeyed voice washed over her, making her knees weak and her body weep. Aidan Hughes should be declared a lethal weapon, with the way he was making her feel.
His warm breath feathered across her cheek as he leaned in still closer, bathing her in the scent of soap, sandalwood and good clean sweat. Her heart threatened to jump out of her chest.
Out, she had to get out before she made a total ass of herself. She did flings, not one-nighters, and being this close to Aidan had her ready to drag him to the floor. She surged to the door, opening it with more strength than necessary and stepped into the balmy San Diego night.
“Leanan.”
She turned, pivoting on her sneaker slowly, carefully. If he touched her right now, she wouldn’t be able to resist him. She’d definitely been without a man too long.
Aidan stood in the doorway, framed by the flicker of the fire behind him, face unreadable in the wash of the porch light.
She understood what he wanted, and gave it, as a condition of her release.
As she spoke the words, she knew them to be true, even though they sounded ridiculous, too much like the child who had seen the magic of the Fae twenty years earlier and been ridiculed and humiliated by her staunchly academic father.
“A Fae, that’s what I saw, all right?” A bit of anger drove her words as she braced for another round of the old hurt.
Instead of making fun of her, he did the one thing she least expected.
“Good night, Leanan,” he murmured, and leaned in, capturing her lips in a sweet kiss. The sweetness mushroomed immediately, eclipsing their moment in the living room, as sudden, complete desire enveloped her. She sagged into him, her body turning to fire wherever she touched him. All thought vanished but the absolute need to have this man, and have him right now.
Aidan growled, deep in his chest. The vibration rocketed through her, making her wet, wanton and ravenous.
She opened her mouth, meeting his tongue with her own, sparring and thrusting, until the only thing in her world was the pure heat shooting in a never-ending circle from her mouth to her breasts to her pussy.
When his hand snaked beneath her t-shirt to cup a breast, she almost screamed her delight. Mouth still feasting, Aidan anchored a hand in her hair and tortured her nipple, circling it with hard, demanding fingers, squeezing it with just the right amount of force to bring her to the brink of coming.
Reaching down, she palmed the hard length of his cock through his shorts, measuring it appreciatively as she dove into his mouth, moaning as his hands tightened in her hair, on her breast. Sliding her hand up, she dipped her fingers beneath the waistband of his shorts, needing to feel the length of him.
A wolf-whistle cut through the fog of desire. “Get a room, why dontcha?” The catcall was punctuated by the bleat of a car horn and laughter coming from the street. Young, juvenile laughter.
Leanan froze, fingers centimeters away from his cock, then whipped her hand out and twisted her head to the side, breaking their mating of the mouths.
Jesus, what in the hell was she thinking?
She pulled out of Aidan’s arms, shivering with fear over her loss of control.
He let go of her reluctantly, shaking his head as if coming out of a daze. She understood exactly how he felt.
“Leanan...”
“I’ve got to go.” She turned and did something she’d never done in her life. She fled.
Chapter Four
“She is not for you, Aidan.”
“I know, but it doesn’t stop me from wanting her.” Aidan sat in front of the fire, clothed in his human guise. Once the connection with the Realm had been made, the “line” had stayed open until he or Rhiannon chose to close it. Therefore, she’d heard and seen everything that had transpired with Leanan. Everything. Including the rather impetuous kiss that had led to something far more potent. He was still hard as a post.
“Wanting is one thing. Partaking is another. I saw the look on your face.”
“Don’t lecture me like a child. Even if you are Moira, you have no right to take that tone with me.” In truth, she had every right, but he wouldn’t give her an inch on this one. They’d known each other far too long for her to begin acting like a mother. “I’ve got it under control. Now, what are we going to do about her? She saw me.”
Rhiannon snorted. “You don’t have anything under control, but you will have to, if you are to complete this mission. Your fate has been presented to you. It is to find this rogue, not chase after a water sprite. As for her seeing you, give her time, a few days. She is human, and will begin to dismiss it with every passing hour until she imagines it as a trick of the light.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Be that as it may, she can do nothing about it. No one would ever believe her, and I doubt she would be willing to sacrifice her professional life to make such a claim. Simply stay away from her and all will be well.”
“There’s more. She opened my warded door.”
“Perhaps your warding wasn’t as strong as it might have been.”
Aidan mused over her words. She was probably right. With his mind on both the rogue and Leanan Murphy, it was a possibility he had been sloppy.
He had also forgone the joy of slipping into his Fae form for far too long. It was a necessity for their kind to flee the shackles of human guise regularly, something he had neglected through absentmindedness more than anything. Was he becoming too human? Perhaps the only way to find out was to reconnect with his tribe, physically.
“When will you be here?”
Rhiannon sighed, her voice muted against the crackle of the flames. When she spoke, it was as his playmate, not as Moira, and she sounded weary.
“Very soon, I hope. Things are not well here, old friend. Dissention grows. There are those who feel the time for isolationism has come to an end, who wish to experience the world as you and others have, but without your training. I have to wonder if your rogue is not a part of it all, a distraction to keep me from fulfilling my purpose here.” She sighed. “They do not understand that by leaving the clan without the proper training they endanger the very fabric binding us together, even with the absence of the last four runes.”
“They dare question you, the Council?” Aidan didn’t even try to hide the incredulity in his voice. No one, be they fire, earth, water or air, went against the Moira. It simply wasn’t done. The Moira, and by extension, the Council, was the one being holding their combined clans together, had saved them from sure extinction in the days when Fae were hunted for their power. Saved them all still. The Moira’s will simply was.
“Find our rogue, Aidan, and contain him. I will be there when the time of Sanctioning comes, and we can both return home. And stay away from the human. She will bring you only misery.”
With that, the fire went out, dead and cold as a stone.
Aidan stared at the empty grate, thoughts churning.
Home. As much as he’d longed to experience the Outer World as a boy, now he yearned to return home even more, to be among his people once again. To find a mate and frolic in the trees with the freedom denied him here.
When had things begun to go so wrong in the Realm? The Fae had lived there in harmony for centuries, building their population slowly, communing with Mother Earth, as was their way. They had branched out into the world slowly when the runes decreed, set forth to meet a fate even the Moira could not see.
Surely the dissention hadn’t been underway when he was still in Ireland? He would have sensed it, somehow.
It couldn’t be the earth elementals; they were too strongly tied to the soil itself and usually disgruntled, at the very least, when decreed to leave for the Outer World.
The undines only haunted rivers close to the Realm, since the sea, with the humans’ legion of warships and pleasure craft, was out of the question.
And the air elementals were too closely tied to Rhiannon to ever go against her wishes.
No, it had to be a fire, from his own clan, who was fomenting a rebellion. A rebellion which could quite easily destroy more than two centuries of peace.
Aidan speared his fingers through his hair.
He had a feeling his rogue was the answer to all of this, and it was time for him to begin tracking him down in earnest.
Rhiannon was right. Leanan Murphy was off limits, no matter how good, how right, she’d felt in his arms, tasted on his tongue. He had a goal, a mission, and it continued tonight.
* * * *
Leanan stared up at the wood-beamed ceiling of her bedroom, sexually frustrated and angry as hell with herself.
She couldn’t get Aidan’s taste and touch out of her mind; it was driving her nuts. She should be asleep now, but the feel of his hands on her was seared into her memory. His scent haunted her, making her body itch and burn in a purely sexual way she’d never felt before.
Why couldn’t he have been some old, balding guy with a paunch? It would have made her evening a whole lot less eventful.
Yeah, she was frustrated, but she could deal with it. But the anger, oh, that was a different story.
She’d run--actually run away. And from what? A hot, utterly delectable man who had obviously wanted her ... just as she’d wanted him. So why had she bailed? She could be lying in Aidan’s bed right now, with a satisfied smile on her face. Instead, she was cold and lonely in her own.
Oh, to hell with this. She needed a good bitch session, and there was only one person who fit the bill, even if it was almost midnight on the East Coast.
She punched the phone number in by memory and heard her best friend’s voice answer cheerfully.
“Speak, and you shall be heard!”
“Hey, Maggie-girl, you alone?”
“Disgustingly so. What’s shakin’, chica?”
Leanan threw her free arm over her eyes. “I met a guy today. An incredibly hot arson investigator.”
“No shit?” Maggie paused, and Leanan could almost see her mulling the situation over in her amazingly agile mind. Whoever said blondes were dumb had never met her college roommate. “You didn’t sleep with him, did you?”
“No,” Leanan sighed, “but it was a close thing.”
“Hmmm. Is that good or bad?”
“I don’t know. He scares me a little bit.” With the lights off and her best friend on the phone, she could admit to that much.
“What?” Maggie’s voice raised in concern. “Scares you how?”
“He’s ... intense.”
“Good lovin’ intense or stalker intense?”
Leanan laughed. “Good lovin’ intense, for sure.”
Maggie was quiet for a long moment. When she came back on the line, her voice was contemplative. “You probably don’t want to hear this, but you need to let go of the past, girl. You’re a different person now. Hell, you always were, just beaten down by your father and that prick James. It’s a freakin’ miracle you ever made it out of Boston.”
“I know, and it’s probably past time I heard it. Realizing it doesn’t make life any easier, though.” It helped, since Maggie knew all of her secrets, her fears, her insecurities. It had been Maggie who’d helped her pull it together in those first few months after she left James at the altar and started her new life three thousand miles away in Berkeley.
“Are you going to see him again?”
Leanan worried her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment before answering. “I don’t think so. He makes me forget who I am, what I’m doing. I can’t let someone have so much power over me again.”
Maggie sighed. “What you’re talking about is a different kind of power, and you know it. Think about it for a while first, all right?” She shifted tack with blinding speed. “So how did you meet Mr. Studmuffin?”
Leanan thumped her forehead with her palm. “Shit, I can’t believe I told you about him first and not the fire. Shows you how fucked-up my priorities are right now.”
“Fire, what fire? Are you okay?” Real worry laced Maggie’s voice now.
“I’m fine, at least physically. The warehouse the collection was in was torched last night.” The loss still echoed through her in resounding waves.
“Oh, shit. What are you going to do?”
“Start pulling together what I can, I suppose. We’ve already done all of the prelim stuff, and we’re committed to the Corcoran.”
“I wish I could tell you not to sweat it, dear, but I know you too well. Just take some time for yourself, ‘K?”
Leanan snorted. “Yeah, right.”
“I mean it.”
“I know you do. Listen, I’ve got class in the morning, and you’ve probably got early rounds at the hospital. Thanks for listening to me whine.”
“Hell, girl, you know I’m here for you anytime. Love you, sis.”
“Love you too, Mags.”
She disconnected and thought back to the day she’d become a new woman, her woman.
She’d learned a vital lesson six years ago and it was one she’d held close since. Enjoy your time with a man, but never let him hold sway over you. Her father and James had tried to force their version of the future on her. Her father, through years of nannies and indifference, until she would do almost anything to incite a response, including graduating from Harvard by the time she was twenty-one. James had stepped right into his shoes, but instead of ignoring her, he had lavished her with the attention she was starved for, and in doing so, began to enslave her.
The criticisms had begun early, and with great subtlety. But when she began to dress as he wanted and take the graduate courses he said would be most beneficial to his career, she’d felt like she was being smothered.
Two weeks before her wedding, a society event to be sure, she’d begun packing her treasures, wishing for the thousandth time since she was ten that her mother was there to help her, to lend advice on how to be a good wife. It was while she was spreading paper to wrap her favorite painting when it really hit her.
She’d stood, staring down at the unbridled, free spirit of Leanan Sidhe and seen the future as it would be with James. The conservative dresses, the downcast eyes, the continued verbal abuse which would almost certainly escalate when she was finally “his”. In that moment she hated herself, hated what she had allowed her father to mold her into.
She’d continued packing, but instead of putting the things she valued most into storage as James had insisted, she loaded up her ultra-conservative Volvo and started driving until she hit the West coast, and Berkeley.
On the long journey she’d made peace with herself, of a sort. She would be the woman her mother had named her for, and damn any man who stood in her way.
Never mind the fact that since then, her relationships consisted of short, brief affairs, which ended when her partner became too stifling.
Silent, angry tears leaked down her face as she realized, really realized, why she’d fled from Aidan. She’d been scared to death of the way he made her feel. Of the way she’d lost her head, been caught up in the moment.
She was scared of losing not only herself, but the carefully constructed, albeit, empty life she’d created along the way.
* * * *
Aidan slipped through the quiet night, scenting the air as he went. Older homes surrounded him, some run down, some vainly holding on to their fading glory.
He breathed in the heavy fragrance of jasmine and the tang of salt air from the nearby Pacific, barely tasting the taint of sulfur hidden cunningly beneath.
Aye, his Fae had been here, but in the past, perhaps when the home had originally been destroyed.
He’d thought the burned-out home might draw the Salamander back, but it was not to be, at least not this night.
Returning to his truck, he sat in the driver’s seat, thrumming his fingers on the steering wheel. Leanan’s warehouse should be his next destination, but it didn’t feel right. In truth, nothing had felt right after he’d digested Rhiannon’s disturbing message.
Were he a Fae bent on changing destiny, where might he go next? From where would he draw his greatest strength? Where would he hide?
In plain sight, perhaps?
If only he had another Fae to turn to besides Rhiannon. Someone who lived here and understood the Outer World as he had come to understand it these past ten years.
But he only had one being to gain counsel with tonight, and he was human. Mikey.
With a short nod of his head, Aidan pulled out of the convenience store lot he’d parked at and headed for Old Town. Finding Mikey should be no problem.
* * * *
And it wasn’t. Alvarez was propped on the same barstool he occupied every night he was off-shift, in a tiny hole-in-the wall frequented by cops and firefighters.
Aidan slipped onto the stool next to him and signaled the bartender for his usual, Jamison’s, straight up, with a Guinness draft on the side. When he’d first come to Callahan’s he’d found it interesting an Irish pub could peacefully exist in the heart of San Diego’s Mexican-inspired Old Town, but it not only existed, it thrived.
“Didn’t think I’d see you tonight, my man.” Mikey toasted him with a dip of his longneck Miller.
“Couldn’t stop thinking about last night,” Aidan admitted, nodding to the bartender as he took a sip of the whiskey.
“There’s always another fire, amigo. That’s the way of our world. What’s got you so bothered about this one?”
“Besides the obvious connection to the other torches?” Aidan quirked an eyebrow at his friend and took another sip.
“Hell, Aidan. There’s firebugs all around us, you know that better than anyone. So what’s the problem?”
“The signature is strange.” He paused, then continued. “This feels almost personal. Like he’s laughing at me. You know damned well every one of these has been in my jurisdiction.”
Mikey shot him an odd look. “Personal, huh? You need to get out more, Hughes, maybe even get laid with one of those honeys I always see you around.”
Aidan replied with a short laugh. There was only one woman he wanted in his bed, and until Mikey brought the subject up, he’d been avoiding the thought quite admirably.
“What, the mighty Aidan Hughes is striking out? I don’t believe it.”
Aidan finished his Scotch and turned to face his only friend. “Not quite.”
“Humph. Not quite ain’t scoring, my man.”
“I’ve had my mind on other things.” Aidan launched into their oft-argued discussion. Anything was better than thinking about Leanan again. “Speaking of other things, did you take the exam today?”
“Shit. Why’d you have to bring it up?” Mikey stared at his beer, peeling the label off with one stubby finger. “Yeah, I took it, for all the good it’ll do. I’m not like you, Hughes. I ain’t cut out to be an investigator, and I don’t know why in the hell I let you talk me into taking the damned test every time it comes around.”
“Because you’re good, that’s why. You’re destined to do more than pretty up your rig and cook shitty chili every week.” Aidan grinned as he said it. Mikey was obsessively proud of his chili.
For once, his friend didn’t rise to the bait. “Destined, huh?”
“Yeah. Mikey, I want you to come in on this with me. I need a clear set of eyes and ears. He’s only killed once, but what will happen the next time? What if he pulls an Orr and starts torching someplace with someone other than vagrants living there?”
If nothing else, his reference to John Orr snapped Mikey’s head around. John Orr had been a legendary arson investigator--and an even more notorious arsonist, setting hundreds, maybe thousands of fires up and down the state before he was finally caught.
“You think it’s one of us?”
“I don’t know, but the similarities are starting to grate on me.” The possibility did exist the rogue had blended in where he would be the least noticeable ... in a firehouse. And Mikey knew more about the crews than Aidan, as an outsider, ever would.
Mikey heaved a big sigh, pushing his bottle around the table aimlessly as Aidan took a pull on his Guinness.
“Well, what do you think? Are you in?”
“Yeah,” Mikey replied, sounding tired. “I’m in.”
* * * *
The alarm chirped obscenely in Leanan’s ear for at least a minute before she flung an arm out and silenced the wretched thing.
What day was it? Friday, thank God. She only hoped her week ended better than it had begun.
She lay in bed for a few moments, gathering her thoughts. Her mind latched onto Aidan almost immediately, but she pushed it away forcefully, grabbing the next thing that swam into focus.
The fire fairy. She snorted, snuggling underneath the covers. She’d begun her career of studying mythology to spite her father more than anything, but found herself falling in love with the concept all over again, especially in the first year after James, when she needed a giant heap of magic. Having a free spirit like Maggie in her life had only boosted what would have been a totally irrational career path just six months before.
The study of mythos had rekindled her fascination, but as much as she tried to grasp the magic of what she’d seen when she was ten, nothing had even come close.
She remembered standing, all alone, in front of a giant ancient oak, the moon high above her. Her parents had been involved in an academic argument about the standing stones they’d camped next to, and not even noticed when she wandered off.
The night had been full of magic. It sparkled on the moon-touched trees and long grasses and rode the sigh of the wind as it slipped through the leaf-laden branches.
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