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"Didn't you say Dunleavy was also a shifter?"
"And a sorcerer. So?"
"So, what if he's a type of shifter we've never seen before? His energy pattern wouldn't be the same as most vampires, because most vampires come from human stock rather than nonhuman races, such as shifters."
"But even if that is the case, wouldn't you have noticed the difference? There's only us, those people down in the town, and Kinnard here.” She shuddered. “And whatever Kinnard is, he's definitely not human."
"No. He's that slug thing we saw taking advantage of the woman." Blood drained from her face. She took a quick drink of her coffee, but it didn't bring the color back to her cheeks. “I knew he was a slime bucket, but I didn't suspect—” Another tremor ran through her.
“Yuck."
"Indeed. But I'm beginning to suspect he's a whole lot more than just a nasty little creature."
"Meaning?"
"When I was talking to Kinnard in the stable, he said and did some things that got me thinking." She took another sip of her coffee, then said, “Like what?"
"He said we'd seen Dunleavy more than a dozen times already. He also said that Dunleavy was a shifter with several forms."
"I told you that yesterday."
"You told me he could be a shifter like his brother, able to take the shape of anyone he has consumed. What I'm saying is that I think Dunleavy is restricted to two other forms."
"Kinnard's obviously said something else to make you think that."
"It isn't so much what he said, but what he did."
"And that was?"
"I threw the knife at him and got him in the shoulder. Blue fire erupted across his body." She nodded. “That's consistent with silver being used against a shifter."
"Yes, but when I attacked him, he used magic to escape." She stared at him for a moment, and then her eyes widened as what he was implying hit her.
"Yes,” he confirmed softly. “I think the man we know as Kinnard is actually Dunleavy himself."
Chapter Twelve
Kinnard and Dunleavy one and the same? As much as Nikki didn't want to believe it, it did make sense. It would explain why Dunleavy was nowhere to be seen, and why Kinnard had been able to cross the pentagrams unaffected. It had been his magic rather than that of his so-called master's.
"I should have cindered the little maggot when I had hold of him earlier,” she muttered. Instead, all she'd succeeded in doing was warning him that she had some abilities that weren't under the control of his magic. No doubt he'd now try to counter that.
She rubbed her arms. Michael caught her hand and pulled her back into his embrace. She closed her eyes and pressed her cheek against his chest, listening to the slow but steady beat of his heart. She wished her own would follow suit. In many ways, this was her first official assignment for the Circle—something she'd been wanting for months now. And yet here she was, so damn scared it felt like her heart was going to gallop out of her chest.
"That's natural,” Michael said softly, “if only because it is your first mission." She pulled back enough to look him in the eye. That's not the reason I'm scared. No?>* * * *
Michael had almost finished taking his fill from a sweet brown mare when he realized he was no longer alone in the stables. He retracted his teeth, licking the last droplets of blood from the brown's neck to help heal the wound, then gave her a reassuring pat and stepped to the stall door. Kinnard leaned against the opposite stall, a malicious gleam in his gray eyes. “Human blood is far sweeter, vampire. Have you not sampled your witch's blood yet?" Energy stirred around him, and the need to taste her blood began to course through his system. But he'd resisted it while in the throes of passion, and its flame was nowhere near as strong now. The question was why did Kinnard and his master want him to taste her so badly? Given the depth of the need they were trying to force into his mind, he'd surely kill her.
Was that what they wanted? For him to kill her?
It couldn't be, though, not if the witch was right and they needed her alive for the ceremony.
"Animal blood has certain advantages over human. Not that a worm like you would ever know the difference.” He switched to his vampire vision and studied the haze of life coursing through Kinnard's gnarled body. He'd been right earlier—Kinnard and the slug had very similar energy patterns. He reached back for the knife in his belt, holding the hilt in his fist. The blade resting against his wrist and arm, concealed from Kinnard's prying gaze. “What are you doing here, Kinnard?"
"I came with a warning, vampire. If you or the witch destroy any more pentagrams, the people remaining alive in this town will die."
He raised an eyebrow. “You kill those people, and you take away your boss's source of power for the circle protecting this town."
Kinnard hawked and spat. “Doesn't much matter now, because the new moon is less than a day away. He has enough power to ensure the strength of the circle until then." The truth? Or a lie Kinnard and his master were desperate for them to believe? “Where is Dunleavy?" Kinnard's smile was mocking. “You've seen him more than a dozen times already, vampire."
