Firestorm: Heart of a Vampire #5 Read Free

while the sun was up. And his head ached from the voices and visions constantly bombarding him.
    He still couldn’t believe his king had sent him to babysit some old friend of Niki’s. The woman wasn’t even part of their clan, though Eric wasn’t privy to the details of the arrangement between Niki and Jordan.
    After recovering from his... whatever... he’d known his twin brother was in trouble, but he hadn’t been able to go find Brandon, make sure he was safe. Jordan threatened to chain him back in the dungeon if he dared leave the castle. Yet here he was now, driving across the country to go help some woman who happened to know Niki.
    Last he heard, Brandon still hadn’t checked in. His brother wasn’t dead. Eric knew that much at least.
    He’d have felt it, just as he’d felt his brother’s pain in his dreams.
    The moment Jordan had given him the SUV, with orders to follow the GPS to Louisiana, Eric had been tempted to drive the opposite direction and search out his brother.
    As if reading his mind, Jordan had stared at him, expressionlessly. “You will keep the woman safe and help sort out her problems.”
    He’d never told his king no. Nor would Eric ever go back on his word. The man had saved his life, as well as Brandon’s.
    Which was why he hadn’t mentioned to Jordan he was hearing and seeing things. That he was crazed. Another laugh echoed in the car. He probably needed to be put down like a rabid dog, before his madness drove him to the depths of darkness.
    He felt too close already.
    The GPS beeped, its too-cheerful androgynous voice instructing him to turn down a dark, tree-lined, gravel drive. With a scowl, he followed the direction. What in all the hells was he supposed to do here anyway?
    “Help her as needed,” he spat, repeating Jordan’s last command. One would think a vampire could damn well take care of herself.
    The gravel lane wound through towering trees. Mist drifted over the narrow road, obscuring the edges.
    Fine. He’d solve this female’s problems, whatever they were—Jordan hadn’t been specific. Then he’d get back home, make sure his brother was all right, and finally sort out his madness. He’d be... his mind hesitated on the word “safe”.
    Disgust welled, bitterness coating his throat.
    He could admit he was most likely insane. Another childish giggle came from the back seat, his invisible travelling companion rising to the fore. Fiery pain flashed down his back. All as if to agree with his self-assessment.
    But damn. He’d never be able to live with becoming weak... a coward.
    And if he couldn’t even figure out how to deal with these imagined memories, how the hells did he think he’d be able to help anyone else?
    A black wrought-iron gate rose from the mist, blocking the road. He slammed on the brakes, fishtailing slightly. To the side of the gate stood a metal call box, nearly obscured by thickening fog.
    He shoved open the car door. Ice-cold air hit him, nearly stealing his breath. Out of habit, he grabbed his battle-axe from the passenger seat, drawing it from its custom leather and steel sheath.
    He shivered from the cold as he approached the gates. The Deep South should be warmer than this on a March spring night.
    Hitting the button on the call box, he studied the fence, half-tempted to either drive through it, or climb over the damn thing. After a few minutes of silence, his impatience led him to the gate. He reached for one of the bars, but a force stopped him a few inches short. The hair on his arms rose from goosebumps. Magic prickled over his skin, prodding and poking, denying him entrance.
    He’d been sent to help a vampire who consorted with sorcery? No way in all the hells. Magic was evil. It could never be trusted.
    The mist swirled around him, rising higher. Laughter, sweetly innocent, yet promising enduring pain, surrounded him. To his left, the sorceress appeared, wavering into focus from a ghostly outline to a solid form.
    She seemed so