Darkness on Fire

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  ALSO BY ALEXIS MORGAN

  The Paladin Series

  THE DARKNESS BEYOND

  BOUND BY DARKNESS

  DEFEAT THE DARKNESS

  DARKNESS UNKNOWN

  REDEEMED IN DARKNESS

  IN DARKNESS REBORN

  DARK DEFENDER

  DARK PROTECTOR

  The Talion Series

  DARK WARRIOR UNTAMED

  DARK WARRIOR UNBROKEN

  DARK WARRIOR UNLEASHED

  Pocket Books

  A Division of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  1230 Avenue of the Americas

  New York, NY 10020

  www.SimonandSchuster.com

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2011 by Patricia L. Pritchard

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information, address Pocket Books Subsidiary Rights Department,

  1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020.

  First Pocket Books ebook edition September 2011

  POCKET and colophon are registered

  trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

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  Manufactured in the United States of America

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  eISBN 978-1-4391-6868-4

  To all my readers who love the Paladins as much as I do

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Acknowledgments

  I want to thank librarians everywhere for their willingness to share their love of books and knowledge with all of us. I love the way you always make me feel that no question is too strange, and I’ve asked some dandies along the way.

  Chapter 1

  Penn Sebastian shifted around in his pile of threadbare blankets, which did little to protect his ass from either the hard concrete or the damp cold of a rainy Seattle day. The need to think good thoughts was riding him hard, and he ran through the exercises that his Handler, Dr. Laurel Young, had prescribed to restore more flexibility to his right hand.

  He was probably fooling himself about seeing some improvement. No one expected him to regain full use of his dominant hand, not even him. On that happy thought, he repeated the stretches with his left hand, alternating working each hand in preparation for the weapons workout Barak q’Young, his brother-in-law, had scheduled after Penn’s shift ended.

  Most days Penn was okay with his sister hooking up with the guy, even if Barak wasn’t exactly human—or even from this world. But since the man had called a mountain down on his own head to save Lacey from human killers, it would take a harder man than Penn to hold Barak’s alien nature against him. There wasn’t anything the two of them wouldn’t do to keep Lacey safe, which gave them common ground to build on.

  Penn resisted the urge to check the expensive watch he kept in his pocket; watching the minutes tick by only made the time drag out more. He wished he could at least read a book, but that was out of character for his well-crafted disguise. Most people averted their eyes as they walked past, not wanting to even make simple eye contact with someone so down on his luck.

  A few would drop some coins or even a couple of dollars on his blankets and then hurry on, as if poverty was catching. He used to buy himself an occasional cup of coffee with their largess, but his conscience had put a stop to that. Now he passed the money on to the local food bank.

  Another razor-sharp gust of wind cut through his thin jacket and pelted him with a swirl of leaves and dirt. He turned up his collar and yanked his watch cap down over his ears. As if sensing his determination to ignore her efforts to harass him, Mother Nature pulled out all stops. The clouds overhead split wide open and emptied cold rain directly over his head.

  Cursing, Penn thought back to the way things used to be, before his life went all to hell with the stroke of a sword. Sometimes, if he tried hard enough, he could almost remember what it felt like to be happy.

  God, this never-ending pity party had to stop.

  The sound of a nearby door opening snapped him to full attention. Easing his hand beneath the blankets, he gripped his gun, even though he knew that whoever was approaching was a friend—or at least not an enemy.

  The footsteps stopped a few feet away. “Penn?”

  Penn didn’t bother to look up. “What now, Cullen?”

  “I thought you could use a cup of coffee.”

  Penn held out his hand and waited for the Paladin to make his final approach. He knew his friends felt sorry for him, but he didn’t want their pity. That didn’t mean he was stupid enough to turn down a hot drink.

  “What else did you want?” Because bringing Penn a cup of coffee wasn’t responsible for the tension flowing off his friend in waves.

  Cullen frowned down at him. “I don’t want a damn thing, but Devlin said for you to report to him after your shift.”

  “No can do.” Penn took a cautious sip of the coffee. “I’ve got a workout scheduled with Barak. Whatever Devlin wants will have to wait.”

  “He said no excuses, so do us all a favor and head for his office as soon as you’re relieved here.” Cullen crouched down to look Penn straight in the eye, his concern obvious. “He’s been juggling the schedule all day, trying to keep everything covered and still give a few of us some downtime. I wouldn’t jerk his chain.”

  “Fine. Tell him I’ll be there. Now get out of my face. I’m busy sitting on my ass and counting raindrops.”

  “You need to snap out of the pity party. God—sometimes I don’t know why we even bother.” Cullen stood up looking thoroughly pissed.

  Cullen was usually the calmest of the bunch, and his temper was proof of how overworked the Paladins had been lately. Anyone who could swing a sword had been spending record amounts of time fighting at the barrier. Thanks to his lame arm, Penn was left out of that party.

  Cullen tried one more time. “When you’re done with Devlin, give me a holler and we’ll grab a beer and a burger.”

  Penn sighed. “A beer sounds good, as long as it doesn’t mess with whatever you and Lusahn have going tonight.”

  “Not a problem; I told her I’d be late. She’s taking the kids out for pizza.”

  Penn nodded, not wanting to hear what Devlin had to say, but he had no choice. “Okay, I’ll see what’s up with Devlin. One way or the other, I’ll let you know how it goes.”

  Cullen feigned a punch at Penn’s head. “It’s nice to see that brain of yours actually does work—sometimes, at least.”

  As his friend disappeared back down the alley, Penn’s mind swirled with all the possibilities of why Devlin wanted
to see him. He tipped his head back and let the cool splash of raindrops wash across his skin. One way or the other, he had the strangest feeling that things were about to change. He’d see what Devlin had to say and then play the cards he’d been dealt.

  An hour later, Penn stood outside Devlin’s door with a boulder-size chip on his shoulder. He couldn’t think of a single thing he’d done wrong lately. A while back, he and Devlin had come to an agreement. Penn would try harder not to screw up and Bane wouldn’t kick his worthless ass out of the Paladins permanently. So far, they’d each held up his end of the deal.

  “Are you coming in, Sebastian, or you going to stand out in the hallway all night?” The thick door barely muffled Devlin’s bellow.

  Bracing himself for the worst, Penn walked into the office and dropped into the seat facing Devlin’s desk. “You wanted to see me?”

  Devlin sniffed the air and gave him the evil eye. “Did you have to show up smelling like wet dog? We do have showers and clean clothes right down the hall.”

  Penn had thought about using them, but had decided against it to get this meeting over with quickly. Depending on what kind of burr Devlin had up his backside, Penn might have the rest of his life to clean up.

  He shrugged. “Cullen said you wanted me as soon as I got off shift. I’m here. What do you want?”

  Devlin leaned back in his chair and gave Penn a hard-eyed stare. “How’s the hand?”

  Penn clenched his teeth. It always came down to that, didn’t it? At least Devlin didn’t pussyfoot around like the others did, checking out the thick scar that transected Penn’s right hand and wrist whenever they thought he wouldn’t notice. He couldn’t, wouldn’t lie to Devlin. They’d served together too long for that.

  “About the same. Laurel sees some improvement in my right hand, and Barak thinks I’m doing better fighting with my left.” Penn forced his hands to relax. “I’m not convinced either of them are right.”

  Devlin nodded as if Penn had just confirmed something he’d suspected all along. “Okay, then. The fact that we’re shorthanded won’t come as a surprise to you. I’ve lost you to normal duty. Hunter is doing better, but he’s got his own patch of hell to guard up north. Even if I need him, he’s an hour out at best. Cullen is back to fighting, but he doesn’t much like it.

  “Here’s the thing. I got a phone call from a woman this morning. No idea who she is or how she got my number. I sicced D.J. and Cullen on back-tracing it to see if they can identify the caller, but they haven’t found out anything other than she’s good at hiding her tracks.”

  Penn was impressed. Very few could out-cyberdance the two Paladins. But what did it have to do with him?

  “I’d like to write it off as a crackpot call, but I can’t. That’s where you come in.” Devlin picked up a tablet and read from his notes.

  “According to this mystery woman, the caldera under Yellowstone is becoming increasingly unstable. Normally that wouldn’t concern us. The few stretches of barrier in that area are too small to be of much use to those on the other side. And we all know there’s nothing anyone can do if that pressure cooker decides to blow its top.”

  Penn shifted restlessly. “Did you call me in here for a geology lesson?”

  Devlin shot him a hard look. “I’m telling you all of this because this woman thinks that the instability isn’t natural. She’s apparently found evidence someone is screwing around with the caldera, trying to siphon off the geothermal energy.”

  A sudden chill filled the room. “Siphoning it off to where?”

  Devlin looked bleak. “Across the barrier. Her words, by the way, not mine.”

  “Who the hell is this woman?”

  “Good question—and that is why you’re here. You’re the only man I can spare to find out what the hell is going on. Go home, pack what you need for a few days, grab a few hours’ sleep, and then get your ass to Wyoming.”

  He pulled out a stack of cash from a drawer and shoved it across the desk toward Penn. “I’d like to keep this off the books, which means no airline reservations, no charge cards. Right now I don’t trust anyone in the Regents enough to want them involved.”

  Penn’s hand shook as he scooped up the money. Holy hell! A mission—a real honest-to-God mission that required a warrior’s skills. Other than providing backup when Hunter Fitzsimon had needed some help, Penn had done nothing for months except park his ass out in the alley while his friends fought and died—and then died again.

  Being needed felt damn good. Being trusted to do the job right had him sitting up straighter and wishing he had stopped to clean up before reporting in.

  Devlin tossed him the notepad. “You’re to drive to some town called Wolf Cave, check in to the only motel, and wait.”

  “For what?” Penn asked as he read over Devlin’s barely legible scrawl.

  Devlin looked purely disgusted. “I wish I knew, Penn. For both our sakes, I really wish I knew.”

  Two days later, Penn stared into the small bathroom mirror and studied the face reflected there. Before setting off for Wyoming, he’d gotten a haircut and his beard trimmed. His scruffy look had been more than just his street persona disguise; it had provided him with a mask to hide behind while he nursed his wounds.

  Leaning in closer to the mirror, he turned his face from one side to the other, studying the lines around his eyes and the ones that bracketed his mouth. Where had those come from? No longer able to do the work he’d trained for his entire life, there wasn’t much left of the man he used to be. He hardly recognized himself at all.

  All this waiting wasn’t helping his mood at all. He left the bathroom and crossed his surprisingly comfortable motel room to flop down onto the upholstered chair wedged between the bed and the outside wall. The place offered cable, so at least he could watch sports until the call came. If it came. If this ended up being one giant hoax, Devlin wasn’t the only one who was going to be royally pissed.

  As if his frustration conjured it up, the phone on the small bedside table started to ring. Finally, some action! He dove across the bed to snatch the receiver off the hook.

  “Yeah?”

  “Did Devlin Bane send you?” The woman’s voice sounded hesitant, as if she was having serious second thoughts about talking to him.

  “Yeah,” he repeated. “Are you the one who called him?”

  She didn’t answer the question. “Across the street from your motel is a diner. I’ll meet you there in fifteen minutes. Go in and sit at the booth in the back corner.”

  “And if it’s taken?”

  “If you hurry, it won’t be.”

  The phone went dead, leaving Penn staring out the window just as a lone car drove by the door and out of the parking lot. Coincidence? No way to know, leaving him no choice but to hike over to the diner and wait. Just in case, though, he wrote down the plate number. If necessary, he’d sic D.J. or Cullen on it later.

  He slipped on his jacket, more to hide his shoulder holster than because of the chill in the air. Though he might be walking into a trap, he doubted it. If someone wanted to take out a Paladin, Seattle or Missouri would’ve made a lot more sense than a remote town in Wyoming.

  He stepped out into the darkness, pausing to look up at the night sky. There were far more stars scattered overhead than could be normally seen back home in Seattle. For some reason the small pinpoints of light brightened his mood. Reminding himself that the clock was ticking, he locked the door and headed for the neon lights across the road.

  Chapter 2

  Jora slowly cruised the parking lot of the small motel at the edge of town, just as she had at this same time for the past three evenings. She checked each vehicle as she passed by, looking for ones with license plates from Washington state. Over the previous two nights she’d found a couple, but none of the owners met the description Devlin Bane had given her—a male traveling alone. A name would’ve been helpful, but she couldn’t blame Bane for protecting his man’s identity. She hadn’t actually been
forthcoming herself.

  She circled around to the back half of the lot, the thought of the head Paladin tying her stomach in one huge knot. Ever since making that phone call to Devlin Bane, she’d worried about what she’d unleashed. The only comfort was that the man, with his reputation as a stone-cold killer, wasn’t coming himself.

  What would her parents have thought about her decision to call upon the Paladins for help? She wished they were still alive to advise her. But they weren’t, which left this whole mess squarely in her court. She’d made the best choice she could from the limited options available to her.

  She spotted a black truck parked in the shadows at the end of the row and knew the Paladin warrior had really come. Unsure whether to be relieved or terrified, she backed her small SUV in next to the oversized pickup and left the engine running.

  There was only one room with its lights on, leaving no doubt where the warrior waited for her call.

  From the safety of her car, she pulled out her cell phone and dialed the motel office and asked for room fifteen. A male voice finally answered. After a brief exchange, she put her car in gear and drove away, circling the block before heading for the diner on the chance he’d spotted her SUV through his motel window.

  Ten minutes later, she parked under a flickering streetlight and retrieved her briefcase from the backseat. A bad case of nerves had her clutching the handle hard enough to make her hand ache, but she would go through with this meeting.

  She’d been tempted to leave the files laying on his doorstep and then walk away from this whole mess. The Paladins should be able to handle the problem. After all, it was their job. But what if they couldn’t? What if it required someone with her special talents? No, better to meet the enemy in person and judge his ability to fight their common foe.

  Approaching the diner, she caught her reflection in the window. Maybe she would’ve looked more impressive if she’d worn her uniform instead of a T-shirt and jeans. But at only five feet two, she couldn’t count on her appearance to intimidate anyone. Perhaps it would work in her favor if the Paladin underestimated her.