Inferno by Jocelyn Michel

I loved to hunt. Nothing excited me as much as prowling dark streets in search of werewolves in need of killing. Tonight I’d dressed for the cold — tight pants and contoured jacket, both leather, plus knee-high boots with five-inch heels. Okay, maybe the footwear wasn’t the best choice for an icy night, but I looked sexy as all get out, and the heels gave me height, something that, at five-foot-three, I could always use.

My gaze darted from shadow to shadow as I turned down a narrow alley. I’d stalked Raffe Stefano many times and suspected that he waited somewhere ahead to ambush me. He wouldn’t succeed, of course. He never did. My sister Assassins in Lace had taught me well. I had moves no werewolf could counter, not even one so deadly we’d nicknamed him D-Man, short for Demolition Man.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Bianca DeLuca.”

I gasped and spun around, fangs bared, which brought me face-to-face with my mark. Though I tossed my raven curls out of my eyes, the wind whipped them back before I could blink, square my shoulders, or widen my stance — defensive moves as reflexive as my razor-sharp fangs. “Hello, Raffe.”

“What’s a hot vamp like you doing out on a cold night like this?”

He thought I was hot? “Trying to clear the streets of vermin.” I didn’t bother to lie. We’d butted heads many times before, with each encounter ending in a bloody draw. I intended to alter that tradition tonight. “What are you up to?”

“Six-four, two-twenty-five.”

Yummy. “Very funny.”

His ice-blue eyes flashed. “So who gets the first strike?”

“Let’s toss for it. Got a quarter?”

“I think I might.” Raffe dug into a pocket. He had the whole cowboy thing going for him tonight — scuffed boots, form-hugging leather pants, a weathered vest. All he needed was a Colt .45 and Stetson to complete the look. “You call it.”

“Tails,” I said, shaking my ass a little.

He grinned, tossed the coin, and looked at it. “You win, DeLuca.”

That figured. I hated to go first since he’d definitely be waiting for any move I made. But I’d never let him know that. I charged while he pocketed the quarter, grazing his shoulder with my fangs, though I’d aimed for his neck. Raffe was that fast. He tossed me into a brick building and, before I could get my balance, picked me up and tossed me again. That time I landed in the city’s nastiest dumpster. Furious, I sprang right out of it, touching down lightly behind him. I tried a chokehold. He caught my arms and lifted me right over his head. I landed face down on the frozen pavement at his feet. For a split second, I couldn’t move — just long enough for him to flip me over with his boot. I sank my fangs into his knee.

“Shit!” Raffe kicked me off before I could sip.

I leapt to my feet, went straight for the jugular, and, for the very first time, actually connected. Hot blood gushed into my mouth. Raffe shook me off and staggered back, his hand to his neck. I saw his surprise and… hurt? Surely not.

Though I should’ve moved in for the kill, I didn’t. Instead, I remained glued to the spot, my gaze on the bloodstain spreading on his white shirt in spite of the pressure he kept on the wound. Why didn’t he attack? Even injured and in pain, Raffe could best me with one hand tied behind his back. We both knew that. Conflicted and confused, I backed away from him, pivoted, and got the hell out of there.

I didn’t stop running until I reached the parking lot where I’d left my Beemer. Then I drove straight to the high-rise apartment building I called home. I licked Raffe’s blood from my lips, noting that it tasted damn good for a werewolf’s. Using scented wipes that a sister-in-arms who dealt in fragrances had given me, I cleaned what I couldn’t reach off my face and everywhere else it had splattered. My hands shook, further disconcerting me. What had just happened? Why hadn’t I finished off D-Man, the werewolf responsible for so many vamp deaths? Was our deadly game just that — a game?

Once inside my apartment, I drank a bottle of Red, the synthetic blood on which all vamps relied. It made me feel a little stronger. For whatever reasons, Raffe and I hadn’t been ourselves tonight. We’d both be back to normal by the time we met again. Meanwhile, I needed to sleep so I could get up and go to work tomorrow, clearheaded and ready to face my day as a “human” owner-operator of Buds and Blooms, my flower and gift shop. With Valentine’s Day looming, I couldn’t work hard or fast enough to keep up.

As expected, I worked my ass off the next day. Men came into the shop in droves, thanks to the downtown high-rise businesses. A couple of elderly women worked behind the scenes arranging bouquets. I worked the front counter, at least until the afternoon hired help, a couple of actual human girls, got there around four. Since both had a terminal case of the giggles, they pretty much annoyed the hell out of me until closing time. I wondered why I kept them on, then remembered when yet another lovesick guy came in to order a bouquet for his sweetie. The girls oohed and ahhhed the whole time he agonized over what to buy and eventually talked him into spending more than he meant to. Their enthusiasm and his response reminded me that my customers had beating hearts, something I no longer had. Most had normal lives and loves as well, more things I didn’t have, but needed to experience, even vicariously, to be good at what I did.

When I finally got home Saturday night, I scrubbed off my make-up and pulled my hair back. I dressed in plaid flannel sleep pants and a thermal tee, laughing when I caught sight of my reflection in the cheval mirror next to my closet. No one seeing me like that would ever believe I could kill a fly, much less a ravenous werewolf. I definitely had the whole kid-sister look going for me, from sassy ponytail to shiny pink toenails.

I tried to watch a movie, but kept drifting off, so I gave up and snuggled under my blankets. A painfully loud and persistent noise woke me sometime later. Beep-beep-beep. It took a few seconds for me to figure out that someone had pulled the fire alarm… again. Since my apartment building housed families that included children, that happened every now and then. Groaning, I flipped on my bedside lamp. That’s when I smelled and saw the smoke roiling into my bedroom through the AC vent.

I jumped out of bed and ran through my apartment to my door. I didn’t need oxygen to survive, so I didn’t have to worry about breathing the toxic fumes that surely tainted the air. The doorknob felt hot to my touch — so hot, I let go of it with a gasp of pain. I thought back to lessons learned as a child so many decades ago. Didn’t that mean there could be fire just beyond, in this case in the hall?

Vampires, immortal and almost invincible, truly feared only two things. Decapitation always resulted in final death; no species could survive that. Fire could kill us too, but not before we writhed in prolonged agony. I did not want to die like that. Something close to panic gripped me — a novel sensation for a badass vamp. I darted to my windows, the kind that barely opened but still gave renters a view of the city below. Pressing my face to the chilly glass, I tried to see out. The scene looked surreal and a little wild, with flashing red and blue lights and scurrying humanity. I heard sirens in the distance.

“Deep breath, Anca.” If an inferno waited just outside the door, I wasn’t the only person in trouble. Someone would find and save us. As calmly as possible, I dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, socks and Nikes. I’ll admit I paced the room after that, wondering how long to wait before I smashed a kitchen chair through my bedroom window and desperately launched myself into the dark night.

Dense smoke now filled the place, and even my vamp eyes couldn’t see through it. Realizing the bedroom was my last sanctuary, I went in there and shut the door behind me. The air smelled a little cleaner, but I had no window, so I quickly decided to give that up and face my fate in the living room. Just as I reached for the knob, I heard a mystifying boom! I hissed my surprise when the knob singed me as the other had done. I realized the inferno had now cornered me; final death surely loomed.

Did my life flash before my eyes? Yes, beginning with the moment my parents died in a house fire, and ending with a cozy campfire and a vampire thug who came out of the woods and changed my existence forever. I didn’t dwell on the decades following, though Friday night’s fiasco came to mind. Would Raffe Stefano miss me? I suddenly wondered, my eyes on the orange-gold flames licking around my door. A stray spark landed on my comforter, instantly igniting the so-called fire-resistant fabric. In seconds the whole bed became an inferno that quickly spread to the carpet and curtains. I cowered in a corner, waiting to be agonizingly devoured by them.

Crash!

My door fell inward. A fireman wearing bulky gear and a helmet with a face shield burst into the bedroom. It took him a couple of seconds, but he finally spotted me. He strode bravely through the flames and strapped an oxygen mask like his on my face. Caught in my personal hell, I could do nothing until he tried to guide me toward the door. I resisted, screaming and fighting him in my terror. He immediately hoisted my body in rescuer’s fashion so that I lay across his shoulders, my arms and legs dangling. I shut my eyes as he hurried out of the apartment and through an obstacle course of firemen with hoses, dense smoke and flames, certain we were both going to die.

But we didn’t, and sooner than I’d ever have dreamed, cold night air blasted my wet skin. I tossed off the oxygen mask and breathed deeply, savoring the heavenly aroma of garbage, gasoline and vehicle exhaust, scents of the city I loved. My fireman set me on my feet near an ambulance and out of harm’s way without saying a word to me.

“How’s it looking?” asked the medic closest to me, immediately wrapping a blanket around my shoulders and handing over a bottle of water.

“Better,” said the fireman. “We’ve got it contained to the top two floors.”

I knew that voice! As my savior in a smoke-smudged yellow mac with glow tape on it turned to head back into the building, I grabbed his arm. “Raffe? Raffe Stefano?”

He froze and turned on his heel. His helmet flew off his head; his blue eyes widened with shock. “Bianca?”

I nodded, unsure of what to do or say since he’d never have saved me if he’d known my identity, right? Maybe. Maybe not. Raffe suddenly yanked me into his arms in a hug I’d never forget. I’ll admit I hugged the guy right back, but only because he caught me off-guard and I was so grateful for what he’d just done. “Thanks for the rescue.”

“Just doing my job.”

“Of course.” I nodded and eased out of his crushing embrace. “Don’t let me keep you.” I looked pointedly toward the blazing building. He nodded and put his helmet back on, turning to leave. Reaching out, I stopped him again. “Be careful, okay?”

“Always,” he said with that cocky grin I knew and loved.

Loved? Shit! No self-respecting vamp could love anything about a werewolf… could she? I stood in the elements for what felt like hours, surrounded by other misplaced tenants, most of whom I knew only in passing. At one point I borrowed someone’s cell phone and tried to call Mali Abrams, a sister assassin and master jeweler, to see if I could sleep over at her place. When a guy answered the phone, I hung up on him. Wasn’t about to go there when she had company.

As for the other eight Assassins in Lace, Chantel the decorator had gone missing, Sasha the fragrance queen had a steady I’d never met, and the rest lived abroad. I finally decided to sleep at Buds and Blooms, but the police wouldn’t let me go to my vehicle, parked in the deck under the blazing building. Since I’d left my car keys in my apartment, I didn’t argue long. I mean, what would I do when I got to it? I did wish I’d had the good sense to grab my purse. As it was, I had no cell, no money, no ID, and no credit cars, which meant I’d better start walking and be prepared to break into my own place of business.

“Got somewhere to go?”

I spun around to find Raffe standing behind me, his face filthy with soot except for the area around his gorgeous eyes. He chugged down a bottled water and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, which left a black smear on his chin. He looked sweaty and hot, with his brown hair messier than usual, probably because it was wet.

“Well, I could sleep at the shop… if I had a way to get there.”

“What shop?”

Oops. “Never mind.” He did not need to know where I worked. I’d be on pins and needles all day every day, worrying that he might pop in and snuff me and my employees when I least expected it. Werewolves had no heart. At least, not usually. Raffe had clearly broken the mold since he rescued members of every species on a regular basis. Well, I assumed he did, anyway. For all I knew, he left vampires like me to die… if he knew what they were.

“I’ve got an extra bed.”

My jaw dropped. “You’d let me into your home? Sweet Lilith, what are you thinking? I could drain you while you sleep.”

He tilted his head slightly and looked me up and down. “You could, yeah, but would you?”

“Absolutely. That’s my job.” I tried to appear tough, though I’d honestly never felt as vulnerable.

“What if we call a temporary truce? We can pick up where we left off this past Friday night once you’re on your feet again.”

“You’d do that?”

He shrugged. “Why not?”

Why not, indeed. Without hesitation, I gave him my hand. “Deal.”

Raffe shook, then kissed the back of it before he let me go. “I’m going to be here a while longer, and my truck’s at the station, but Hank’ll give you a ride.” He pointed to a jolly old man with twinkling eyes, snow-white hair and a full beard, who stood by an official fire department car, watching our exchange. “Don’t hurt him, okay? He’s got a wife and five kids.”

I rolled my eyes. “Geez, Raffe. I may have fangs, but I’d never bite Santa Claus.”

“Good to know.” He gave me a little shove in the right direction.

Resisting the urge to stick out my tongue at Raffe, I walked over to Hank. He calmly motioned for me to get in on the passenger side. When we were both settled, he stuck out his hand. “Hank Sellers.”

I took, shook, and released it. “Bianca DeLuca. Thanks for the ride.”

He smiled. “My pleasure.”

For a few minutes we rode in silence. I rested my head against the window, which felt cool to my flushed cheeks, and watched the snow that had begun to fall. To keep from thinking about what I might’ve lost to the inferno, I turned to my driver. “Known Raffe long?”

“Since he was knee-high to a grasshopper. His folks are some of my dearest friends.”

Did that mean he knew Raffe shifted? I didn’t dare ask. “Where does he live?”

“Pratt Park. He’s got an apartment there.” Hank gave me a look. “Are you his girl?”

I quickly shook my head. “No. We’re just…” Friends? Hardly. “Acquaintances, which makes it really cool that he’s letting me sleep over tonight.”

Hank grinned. “He’s that kind of guy, all right.”

“What else can you tell me about him? I, I mean we, don’t get to visit much.”

“Well, he’s a damn good cook. Makes the best fried chicken and mashed potatoes I’ve ever eaten when it’s his turn at the stove. He also coaches little league in the summers, and he gives blood every time the Red Cross shows up in that semi of theirs.”

Wow. “Anything else I should know?”

“If you break his heart, the guys at the station and I will come after you.”

“I told you we’re not like that.”

Hank chuckled. “Uh-huh.” Moments later, he turned into a parking lot and drove under the protective awning jutting over the front door. He handed me a key. “It’s 4-B. He told me to tell you to make yourself at home.

I didn’t go in until Hank pulled away, then I had to think about it a couple of secs before I stepped into the lobby and headed toward the elevator. For all I knew, the building could be a werewolf den. Once inside the lift, I punched the button for the fourth floor and leaned against the mirror mounted behind the handrail that ran all around. The elevator stopped on three just long enough for a woman and little girl to climb aboard. Though I subtly sniffed, I couldn’t catch their scents thanks to her perfume, which smelled nothing like a wolf. I couldn’t remember when I’d been so tired, but doubted I’d get a moment’s rest sleeping in a werewolf’s bed, even if he wasn’t in it. Sworn enemies by birth and breed, could we ever really trust one another?

Since Raffe had said to make myself at home, that’s what I did by finding the bathroom first thing and stripping off my clothes, which reeked of smoke. I showered and washed my hair, using his soap and shampoo. After drying off with a borrowed towel, I walked, butt-naked, to the kitchen and went through the drawers in search of a trash bag. I found one under the sink and stuffed my nasty clothes into it. Then I explored the apartment until I found Raffe’s room, where I dug up a plain white tee to put on. The bottom edge hit me mid-thigh, long enough to hide the fact that I didn’t have undies on.

Dressed, I went back to what looked like a combination office and work-out room. Raffe had a desk with a computer on it on one side, and a treadmill and elliptical on the other. I also saw weights and a bench. Judging from the discs on the lift bar, he was actually as strong as he looked. Further exploration revealed a spare bedroom with a queen-sized air mattress in it. Though I’d have preferred a real bed, I could hardly complain about the accommodations. It was that or the shop, where I’d have to sleep on the cement floor, in my rickety chair, or maybe on one of the counters. I decided to look for spare sheets, but before I could, the living room door opened.