Rafferty and the others could only watch helplessly.
And hope the end came quickly.
Sophie and Nikolas had each gripped the other’s tail, the swirling black and white reminding Rafferty of a yin-yang symbol.
Or an ouroboros, snared in an even more ancient cycle of renewal.
The sight gave Rafferty hope for the future. It was true that Sophie and Nikolas would be destroyed, and there was nothing he could do to change that. He hoped, though, that they could take life again, as Eileen had. He hoped that they would find each other again, and have a second chance at happiness in that next incarnation.
The pair grew thinner and less substantial with each passing moment. As they became fainter, they spun faster so that their colors blurred. The force of the pulse grew, louder and more insistent. The academy couldn’t cut itself off from the lifeline of the smoke. Still there was more energy in the conduit.
The floor began to vibrate.
The water that had flowed in behind the Dragon’s Teeth warriors began to slosh around their hips.
The earth began to hum.
Rafferty realized that the sacrifice of Sophie and Nikolas could destroy the academy completely. It was the prophecy come true in an unexpected way.
Rafferty decided to help. He began to sing his ancient chant to the earth; he began to court her assistance in destroying this evil.
“It’s going down,” Thorolf cried.
“Sing!” Niall shouted at him, and they both did.
Rafferty sang with vigor. He would do what he could to make Sophie’s and Nikolas’s sacrifice count. He would ensure that they didn’t die in vain, that the academy was destroyed forever.
Rafferty hummed and he chanted; he conjured every tune he knew and wove them together instinctively. To his delight, the Dragon’s Teeth warriors took up his song, amplifying it to deafening intensity.
Sparks flew from Nikolas and Sophie, sparks that danced through the air of the cavern and lit the scene. The two of them were on fire, a radiant wreath of destruction and creation. Rafferty heard Sophie’s voice join his song and he smiled, knowing that he had anticipated her desire.
The light blazed from the entangled pair, reaching a brilliance that nearly singed Rafferty to blindness.
Then all light was extinguished.
Silence reigned for a heartbeat; then the rock walls moaned and shuddered.
Rafferty looked up in time to see the ceiling crack overhead, opening in a long fissure. Chunks of rock fell, landing fatally upon some of the Dragon’s Teeth warriors. Their leader shouted and they scrambled to organize themselves.
But the ocean already poured through the gap, cleansing the filth with its cold current and submerging the Pyr.
“I can’t swim!” Thorolf shouted.
“It figures,” Niall muttered, and that was the last thing Rafferty heard.
“The Wyvern is gone,” Sara cried as Magnus disappeared into the distant clouds. She was pale and had her hands pressed to her mouth.
“What do you mean?” Quinn demanded, turning back in concern.
“She’s gone.” Sara looked bereft. “I can always feel her, but not anymore. Sophie’s gone.”
“She’s dead!” Boris declared, then laughed. In his glee, he revealed his presence on the roof. He leaned on the air-conditioning unit in dragon form, burned and exuding confidence. “Where are the Pyr without their Wyvern?” he mocked. “My plan is succeeding, even without me. That must make it a divine plan.”
Erik swore and dove toward the injured Slayer. Boris used the moment he had to aim dragonfire at the windows of Erik’s lair. Erik heard the glass shatter. He heard the flames light inside and knew what would happen.
They had to be far away when it did.
“Fireworks,” he reminded the other Pyr in old-speak.
“Will they go?” Sloane asked.
“Absolutely.” Erik didn’t have time to comment about a match being held to dry tinder. There would be a massive explosion when the dragonfire reached his storage room.
Quinn and Donovan immediately caught up their mates and flew into the distance. Sloane lingered a moment; then at Erik’s command he dropped toward the lower floors. He manually triggered the fire alarms, and their ringing filled the air.
“What’s going on?” Eileen asked.
“Sophie’s dead.” Boris chortled when Erik might have answered her. “I achieved two of my aims. No Dragon’s Egg. No Wyvern. It’s only a matter of time before you lose to the Slayers, Erik Sorensson.”
Erik had heard enough. He caught Boris in one talon, pinning him down on the roof. Boris struggled, but he wasn’t very strong in his current state. He shifted to a red salamander, but Erik wasn’t startled by that feat anymore. Eileen stepped onto the roof, giving Erik the freedom to use both hands.
“You can’t kill me!” Boris spat. “I have drunk the Elixir!”
Erik surveyed the wreck that Boris had become and noticed that his wounds hadn’t healed.
Wasn’t that the point of drinking the Elixir?
Did the fabled substance lose its potency over time?
“Odd how you haven’t healed from our previous fight,” Erik mused, and he saw a flash of uncertainty in Boris’s eyes. “Look at your wings. Maybe the Elixir’s power is overrated.”
“Maybe Magnus lies,” the Slayer hissed with fury.
Erik laughed. “Magnus? Dishonest? Surely not.”
“He lies, that evil worm,” Boris muttered. “It doesn’t take one sip to confer immortality—it takes one sip to become addicted, one sip to make any Slayer beholden to Magnus forever.”
Boris fell abruptly silent.
“Because Magnus controls the source,” Eileen guessed.
“Because Slayers who sip of the Elixir need more at regular intervals to sustain their state,” Erik added.
Boris snarled and struggled, which was all the confirmation they needed.
There was no doubt about it: Erik’s luck was turning.
“Thank you, Boris,” Erik said sweetly. “And now I think you’ve outlived your usefulness.”
“You can’t kill me!”
“Let’s find out, shall we?”
Boris’s last sound was a high scream.
Erik quickly drew his talon across the red salamander’s neck, severing his head from his body and silencing his laughter. He dismembered the small twisting creature, unable to hide his distaste for the task.
“Let me guess. You’re doing what needs to be done,” Eileen said.
“It’s the only way to eliminate shadow dragons,” Erik said grimly. “If they’re all drinking the Elixir, it must work the same way for those who have drunk more.”
The pieces that had been Boris twitched on the asphalt roof, as if he were still laughing at Sophie’s fate. Alarmed that he might miss his chance, Erik reared back and loosed the hottest dragonfire he could conjure on Boris’s remains. He burned him to cinders, then sent a torrent of dragonsmoke after the flames.
When he could feel no energy at all coming from the pile of ash, he halted, breathing heavily. The snow fell thickly, but the sight of white on black had no power for Erik now.
Eileen bent and swept the ash into a piece of paper that she ripped out of her notebook. She folded the paper and twisted the corners together, securing the ash tightly inside. She shook it like a rattle. “What now?”
“A Pyr must be exposed to all four elements to remain dead,” Erik said.
“I count only three elements,” she said with her usual practicality. “We need more water to be sure he’s gone.” And she pointed to the lake.
Erik lifted her with one claw and launched into flight, soaring high over the burning building that had been his home. He felt like a phoenix rising from the ashes of his old life, revitalized by the firestorm and given new purpose by the presence of his mate in his life.
He glanced down and checked that his few neighbors had left the building. They were gathered on the sidewa
lk, so busy watching the flames that they didn’t appear to notice him. Even if they did, their stories of dragons would be dismissed as manifestations of trauma.
Reassured, Erik flew toward Lake Michigan without a backward glance. He watched Eileen with care as he swooped low over the water, fearful that her worries would return.
She surprised him once more with her resolve.
“Burn him again,” she said.
As Erik loosed flames, she opened the paper, letting Boris’s ashes scatter across the surface of the lake. They caught fire, burning like tiny embers before they fell on the dark water and sank.
Then Eileen let go of the paper and Erik burned it to cinders as well. He swooped high, holding her fast as the ash settled on the water, extinguished itself, and sank.
Rafferty broke the surface of the ocean and took a deep, gasping breath. Niall appeared beside him, sputtering, and between the two of them they hauled a struggling Thorolf to the surface. He choked and splashed, grasping desperately. He was big enough that he could have pulled both of them under in his fear.
“Just take flight already,” Niall said with scorn, and the other Pyr looked surprised by the idea.
Thorolf did it, though, and once he was safely airborne, Niall and Rafferty followed suit. The sun shone brilliantly overhead, but there was flotsam and jetsam erupting from the depths on all sides. They were several miles from a quiet stretch of shoreline.
“How about we meet by that cliff?” Niall suggested. “I’ll make sure the new kid gets his feet on the ground.”
“Hey, you know, it’s not a crime not to know how to swim. . . .”
Rafferty nodded and the pair left, still arguing. He was sure he could hear Thorolf muttering curses all the way to land.
But he was safe.
Rafferty wasn’t sure the same could be said for the others. He hovered, searching the surface for survivors. The Dragon’s Teeth warriors seemed to have taken a lot of casualties. He wondered whether they, like Thorolf, had no ability to swim. He had seen a number struck down by the falling rocks. He wished desperately that Nikolas and Sophie would surface, but knew he would never see either of them again.
Not in their old guise, at least.
To his relief, the leader of the Dragon’s Teeth emerged from the water’s depths. He was gasping for breath, and Rafferty guessed that he had tried to save as many men as possible. Half a dozen soldiers accompanied him, their expressions grim. Rafferty went to him, offering assistance.
The warrior smiled very slightly, perhaps amused by the notion, then burst from the water into full flight. He turned a look on his men that might as well have been an audible command, and they followed suit, though none could echo his determination and strength.
He flew close to Rafferty. “We incinerated the shadows,” he said gruffly.
“But you lost many men.”
“It had to be done.” His eyes narrowed. “We understand the importance of ensuring the greater good.”
Rafferty looked down at the sea, which covered so many fallen Pyr, and wondered at the price. When he glanced up again, the leader of the Dragon’s Teeth was offering him a token.
It was a ring. Half was black and half was white, although the hues twisted around each other to compose the whole. When he looked more closely, the white was more like spun glass. The ring was hard and cold, and Rafferty knew what had made it.
“This should be yours,” the Dragon’s Teeth warrior said.
“How do you know?”
He smiled and stretched his claw out farther. “I just do.”
“Glass and anthracite,” Rafferty said.
“Yes,” the warrior agreed. “A talisman of power.”
“How do you know it should be mine?”
The Dragon’s Teeth warrior put the ring on his talon and it rolled around, so loose that it threatened to fall off. Then he offered it to Rafferty again.
Rafferty slid the ring over his talon and it fit perfectly. He had the sense that it adjusted its diameter to his, but that was madness. He glanced up to find the warrior smiling.
“It knows,” the warrior said. “And that is good enough for me. Where do you lead us, singer of songs?”
Rafferty found himself surrounded by the dozen surviving Dragon’s Teeth warriors, each watching him expectantly. “I’d like to introduce you to Erik Sorensson, leader of the Pyr,” he said.
The warrior inclined his head in agreement. “Where you lead, we shall follow.”
Erik landed in the park alongside Lake Michigan, shifting quickly so that Eileen was caught in his arms. She liked that. Snow fluttered down all around them, and the raging fire that consumed his loft was far behind. The other Pyr landed in the same park, turning to watch the display.
Erik led Eileen to a park bench, one that faced the blaze, and dusted it off for her to sit down. He was always the gentleman. Eileen smiled as he turned up the collar on his leather jacket and eyed the fire. She reached over and tugged up his zipper. “You need a scarf.”
He smiled slightly. “I’ve no one to knit one for me.”
“Is that right.” Eileen settled back beside him, finding it reassuring how their shoulders bumped. They sat in companionable silence but she wasn’t going to be the first to ask important questions.
“You’re really going to watch your apartment burn?” Eileen asked in surprise, but Erik shook his head.
“Not just that. Watch.”
No sooner had he spoken than the first fireworks exploded, filling the sky with red and yellow stars. They were followed by fireworks that looked like large blue and violet flowers, their petals arching wider and wider before the sparks died and fell. Eileen gasped at their beauty, then realized how he’d known what to expect.
“You are that Erik Sorensson who is a pyrotechnics wizard in Chicago,” she accused.
He nodded once, then arched a brow, his gaze fixed on the display. “Albeit with a much diminished inventory now.”
Eileen smiled. “Careful. Your sense of humor is showing again.”
His lips quirked in a smile. “I’ll have to be sure my charm stays well disguised.”
“Too late.”
He raised a finger, his eyes narrowed. “I was saving this one for a special occasion.”
“Does this count?”
A twinkle lit his eyes. “I’d say so.”
Red sparks shot up from the loft into the dark sky. The spray of lights expanded ever larger and became ever brighter. The fireworks curved and spiraled, looking for a heartbeat like a large red dragon poised against the night.
Eileen shivered. “Looks like Boris.”
The sparks faded and died to nothing. Erik smiled. “Especially now.” His satisfaction with that was obvious, and Eileen shared it.
There was a hiss as one rocket fired directly upward, leaving a trail of blue sparks following it. “These were supposed to look like birds-of-paradise,” Erik mused. “I thought they might be spectacular.”
As Eileen watched, the sparks arced through the air, changing color from blue to violet to brilliant orange. The crest was clear, as was the orange spear of the flower—a second took shape above it and to the right, then a third to the left.
“It looks like a flower arrangement,” Eileen said. “Beautiful.”
“I shall have to get more of those,” Erik agreed.
It was both strange and comfortable sitting beside him as they watched his entire inventory of fireworks exhaust itself. He commented periodically on how the sequence could have been better, or how he would have preferred to have arranged the color scheme. Eileen listened and watched, impressed that he could dispassionately watch so much capital go up in flames.
He wasn’t hiding his reaction either.
But then, given events of the weekend, she supposed his inventory wasn’t much of a sacrifice.
“So where do we go from here?” she asked quietly as the display wound down.
Erik spared her a bright glance. His voice
dropped low and silky, intent enough to make her shiver. “Lady’s choice,” he murmured.
Eileen looked away from him, from the intensity of his expression. She wanted to make the right decision. She didn’t want to mess this up. She was deeply attracted to Erik. It would have been easy to take their relationship to a greater commitment immediately.
On the other hand, Eileen had a tendency to be impulsive and was trying to learn from her mistakes. She’d agreed to marry Joe after a week in Puerto Vallarta together and could do without repeating that fiasco.
It was true that she’d never had such a thrilling and dangerous few days in anyone’s company, but that very danger could be affecting her perspective. Eileen knew that if she and Erik were meant to be together, a few weeks apart wouldn’t make any difference to the bond between them.
It would, however, give her more confidence in her choice.
That sounded like advice her mother would have given. In fact, Eileen thought her mom had said something similar after the Puerto Vallarta fling-turned-instant marriage.
“It’s been quite a weekend,” she said.
“That it has.”
“But I’d like a little time to think about what has happened, about what is happening.”
“How long?”
“A month.” Eileen glanced up, expecting to find disapproval in Erik’s expression. He was simply studying her, no censure in his eyes.
“Solar or lunar?”
“A lunar month is shorter, right?” At his nod, Eileen nodded. “Lunar.”
She was glad she was watching Erik. Otherwise, she would have missed both the fleeting smile that curved his lips and the gleam of satisfaction that lit his eyes.
It was a satisfaction that perfectly echoed her own, and something else that they had in common.
It was also a good portent for their future.
Chapter 28
Within two weeks, Eileen knew.
It was too early for a blood test, but she knew that she was pregnant. The rhythm of her body had changed, her breasts seemed heavy, and she had been sleeping more. She had strong aversions to certain foods, particularly dessert and her customary glass of wine before dinner.