“Why is it necessary to eat him? Isn’t there anything else to eat?”
Jorge’s cool gaze landed upon Ronnie again and she was afraid she’d given him an idea of an alternative. “We don’t eat humans,” he said, and she wondered why he confessed anything that might reassure her. “There is a pungency about your kind that I find distasteful.” He returned to his meal. The battling dragons thrashed and struggled for supremacy, one slamming the other into the rock wall so that the whole cavern vibrated. Ronnie wasn’t surprised when black blood flowed down the wall, or when the battered dragon went limp.
She’d learned to expect the victor to eat his kill, but averted her gaze when he did.
Ronnie found Jorge watching her with undisguised amusement. She knew enough about him to understand that he was lingering—and chatty—for a reason. There had to be a point to this display, never mind his smug manner.
Maybe she could find out something. If he wasn’t going to eat her, then it didn’t look as if she had a lot to lose. If Niall dreamwalked to her again, she could confide what she’d learned and that might help the Pyr.
“So? Why eat this one?”
“It’s the Elixir,” Jorge repeated, his voice dropping to a hiss. “The Elixir confers something close to immortality upon those who consume it and makes us more vigorous.” He flicked his tail and she saw to her horror that it was already growing back. “It’s a substance that needs to be replenished in one’s system, however, and there is no longer a source, thanks to the Pyr.”
“They claimed it?”
Jorge’s eyes glittered. “They destroyed it, and so I have been compelled to find Elixir wherever I can.” His gaze remained fixed upon her as he ate another bite, and Ronnie realized the implication of his words.
“Those Slayers had taken the Elixir, too! That’s why you eat the corpses.”
“Waste not, want not,” Jorge said easily. “The Pyr, of course, will honor their dead,” he continued, his disdain clear. “But then, warriors like Reed and Drake are no good to anyone once they’re dead.” And he smiled, his satisfaction so clear that Ronnie wanted to kick him. “Of course, this one didn’t exactly choose to take the Elixir as I did. He was given it, before he was hatched.”
“Hatched?” Ronnie asked. “Is that how Slayers are made?”
Jorge smiled, showing all those teeth, a sight made less appealing by the bits of flesh and black blood adorning them. “It could become so, certainly.”
“That’s enigmatic.”
“Yes, I apologize. There is an old saying that Pyr are born but Slayers are made, a reference to the fact that we choose our path.” Jorge chewed steadily. “But matters are in flux, since the darkfire was released.” He looked around, then nodded. “In this very cave, actually.”
“I don’t understand.” Why was Jorge so confident that he needed only one Slayer to guard his back? There seemed to be a lot more Pyr in the world and Jorge didn’t strike her as a dragon who liked to have odds stacked against him.
Ronnie had a bad feeling about that.
Hatched.
“Where are Slayers hatched?”
“You don’t need to understand that,” Jorge said, his tone turning harsh. Apparently the time for confidences was coming to an end. He fixed a glittering stare upon her. “What you need to understand is that Drake is dead, and that he died because you appealed to him to save the humans.” Jorge shook his head with amusement. “I really couldn’t have planned it any better. Sometimes humans do inadvertently improve upon the best scheme.”
“You planned for them to come.” Ronnie was disappointed to realize that Drake had been right. Jorge had baited a trap.
“They wouldn’t have found you otherwise.” He wagged a talon at her, his confidence supreme. “They won’t find you here. I’ve ensured as much. There will be no more dreamwalking.” He said the word with scorn. “We will simply wait in cozy, if isolated, comfort.” He heaved a sigh and considered the shredded corpse. “Perhaps after my meal, I’ll hibernate until the spring. You’ll believe me about the baby by then.”
She spun away from him and his disgusting meal, her tears rising even though she would have preferred otherwise. He’d killed Drake. She’d seen her dragon injured and falling from the sky.
Worse, Drake had died because she had urged him to protect those humans from the contents of the vial. It was her fault, just as Jorge had gloated.
The Slayer had planned it all so well. Had they ever had a chance?
But then Ronnie remembered Drake’s last words to her. Appearances are not always what they seem. Was it possible that Drake was alive? Or that he had tricked Jorge? She could only hope as much and cling to that hope to get her through this ordeal.
It wasn’t much, but it was all that Ronnie had.
It was only then that she realized she didn’t know what had happened to the vial of blood. She sensed that she had missed a critical detail in that. And there was another dragon missing. “What about Leftie?” she asked. “Did you eat him already?”
Jorge snarled, his eyes flashing, and waved a talon as if to dismiss her from his presence.
Ronnie found herself abruptly alone in a cavern with no visible exit.
She thought about Jorge’s reaction to her question and had to think that Leftie had somehow gotten away. She wished that she could vanish into thin air herself.
Otherwise it seemed unlikely she’d be leaving this new prison any time soon.
* * *
The Pyr carried Reed’s broken body out over the Atlantic. Drake watched from the beach at Great Kills Park with Theo standing guard over him. In other circumstance, Drake might have protested that he didn’t need a sitter. On this particular night, he was glad Theo had assisted him and welcomed a Pyr at his back. He’d watched as Theo sent a summons to Sloane earlier, and once again, felt a grudging admiration for technology.
There was no doubt that he had need of the Apothecary’s aid. Drake’s back was bleeding and sore, and the dragonsmoke had left him weakened.
He needed his strength to save Veronica.
The beach was deserted at this hour of the night. The rain and the chilly air of October no doubt also contributed to the solitude. Drake waited in his human form where Theo had placed him, not having the energy to move.
He watched Kristofer and Arach in flight, their figures dark against the overcast skies. At least the falling rain made them slightly less visible. Drake didn’t doubt that there were half a dozen humans filming the progress of the dragons from somewhere on the island, but he didn’t care. He had failed Veronica again.
At least, the Pyr would not fail their dead.
It was important to ensure that Reed couldn’t be raised from the grave by the Elixir. Drake watched as the Pyr released Reed’s body, then breathed dragonfire upon it as the warrior fell toward the sea.
Reed had been exposed to earth when he hit the ground right after his death, to air as they flew, to fire as they cremated his remains. Kristofer and Arach seized his body just before it splashed into the sea and flew high again, repeating the exercise. Three times they turned their flames upon him, until finally only ash fell to touch the ocean’s surface.
Drake bowed his head and asked the Great Wyvern for mercy for his lost comrade.
Then he got to his feet with a grimace and braced himself to be carried back to the city by Theo and his team. No doubt Sloane would arrive as soon as he could.
Drake thought it encouraging that the Slayers hadn’t collected Reed’s body, or even to have appeared to be interested in doing so.
That they’d taken their own injured dragon hinted to him that there wasn’t a new source of the Elixir, that they were compelled to harvest it from those fallen Slayers who had consumed it during their lives.
Drake would take encouragement where he could.
He wasn’t a superstitious Pyr, but he was beginning to think that his second firestorm was challenged because of his own choices. He feared that the
Great Wyvern had found him unworthy, and that Veronica would be the one to pay the price.
Which meant only that Drake had to change, and do so as quickly as possible.
Chapter Nine
Sloane arrived at Niall’s apartment the next afternoon, knowing that his disgruntled attitude showed and not caring much about it. Niall gave him a quick survey, said nothing, then led the way to Drake. The apartment stunk of Slayer and Elixir, filthy dark smells that turned Sloane’s stomach. That could explain Niall’s quiet manner, and Sloane supposed the residue had been carried on the Pyr who had fought Jorge and his minions.
Still it was revolting.
First things first. Sloane didn’t doubt that Niall would have questions, once the business of being the Apothecary of the Pyr was done.
Drake was in bad shape, but as stoic as Sloane would have expected. He commanded the grim Pyr to shift shape, then cleaned and stitched the gaping wounds in Drake’s wings. He sang the song of the Apothecary softly but with vigor, watching as the traditional chant had its effect. Drake was breathing steadily, and his eyes were narrowed slightly against the pain, but he was already at greater ease.
“If the wounds had been deeper, you’d have lost them,” Sloane noted.
“I shall have to thank Jorge for the courtesy when next we meet.”
Sloane smiled at Drake’s dry humor. It was a good sign. “You’ll probably have a lot to talk about then anyway.”
Drake exhaled a puff of smoke but said nothing more.
“You’re not the only one who has issues with that Slayer,” Sloane admitted as he treated the wounds with an unguent that he had formulated for the Pyr. He couldn’t push the destruction in his lab out of his mind. That he’d had to walk away from Sam just when things had looked promising again didn’t help his mood. “I wouldn’t mind ripping his wings off myself, but I’d finish the job.”
“It is the way of the viper to torment his victim with possibilities,” Drake said.
“Good to know that was his plan,” Sloane replied shortly. “Although right now, they’re more like impossibilities.”
“Why? What happened?” Niall asked. He was standing in the doorway, watching. “What else did Jorge do?”
Theo was pacing, obviously trying to resist the urge to fret like a mother hen and losing the battle. Drake spared him the occasional glance. Sloane resisted the urge to snap at him to be still. He knew the other Pyr was just worried, or maybe felt responsible. He also knew his own frustration was coloring his reactions.
“Jorge pretty much destroyed my research, and my hope of finding a cure for the Seattle virus.” Sloane shook his head. “I should have seen it coming, but he manipulated me easily. Maybe I deserve to fail for that.”
“How?” Niall asked.
Sloane heard his voice rise. “He sent those Slayers to attack Erik because he knew that if Erik was wounded but alive, I’d go to heal him. That meant my lab was empty, defended by dragonsmoke—but that’s no more of a barrier to him than the alarm system. He knew he wasn’t going to be interrupted.” He shook his head with disgust.
Drake’s eyes opened. “Jorge had a vial of blood tonight that he said was infected and stolen from the Apothecary of the Pyr.”
Sloane raised a hand and spoke with some bitterness. “That would be me.”
“He threatened to spill it over the humans gathered to watch the dragonfight,” Theo supplied.
“It would be consistent with what he did in Seattle,” Niall said.
“Yeah, well, it also ensures that I can’t stop him,” Sloane said with frustration. “Even if I come up with an antidote, I can’t test it without having a sample of the virus in my lab.” He flung out his hands. “Everything I’ve done is trashed.”
No one had anything to say to that.
Theo, Kristofer, and Arach had sustained minor injuries that didn’t really need his attention, but since Sloane was there, he took care of them anyway.
“Cup of tea?” Rox offered with a smile. “I’ve got some chai that will put a smile on anyone’s face.”
Sloane nodded agreement, smiling a little because he knew where Rox got her chai.
From him.
He sat in their small kitchen and sipped the tea, filling his nostrils with the scent of his own gardens.
Niall sat opposite him, concern in his expression. “You’re never grumpy,” he said in old-speak.
Sloane gave him a look.
Niall laughed at that, then sipped his own tea. “Want to talk about it?”
“I just did,” Sloane cleared his throat, then spoke aloud, seeing Rox hovering in the doorway and not wanting to be rude. It wasn’t as if Niall had any secrets from his mate. “The only thing I seem to be getting accomplished is cleaning up after Jorge. I never wanted to be Slayer staff, that’s for sure.”
“What about your research? Had you made any progress?”
“Some, but it doesn’t matter now.” Sloane shrugged, his exasperation impossible to hide. “There’s nowhere to get any more of the virus, at least not legally. I can’t help the sense that Jorge is trying to provoke me into doing something stupid.”
“Or he just wanted the virus for some scheme of his own,” Drake said from the doorway. That Pyr claimed a chair at the table, grimacing as he sat down.
“You should rest for a few days,” Sloane said.
“I will rest when I am dead,” Drake replied, but there was no heat in his tone. “My mate has been stolen, again, and it is impossible to know when Jorge will tease us again. I must be vigilant.”
Sloane and Theo exchanged a glance and he knew the younger Pyr would defend Drake’s back.
“I must tell you exactly what Jorge did this night,” Drake said and recounted the taunt with the vial of blood.
Sloane muttered a curse under his breath. “So, it was used to torment you.”
Drake gave him a solemn look. “I would not be surprised if he had a second purpose in mind. He did not intend to spill it last night, just to compel me to choose.”
“He must have another plan,” Theo said.
“And it involves making things worse,” Sloane agreed. “Thank the Great Wyvern that he didn’t pull the stopper and break the seal, because he might have spilled it inadvertently.”
“I do not believe he would risk using his advantage too soon,” Drake said softly.
“Then when?” Theo asked, but none of them had an answer.
“So, what are we going to do?” Sloane asked with undisguised frustration. “There’s no telling where Jorge has gone.”
“If he doesn’t want to be found, he’ll disguise his scent and Veronica’s,” Theo contributed.
“I’ll try to dreamwalk to her,” Niall said, obviously anticipating Drake’s request. “But it might not work.”
“Jorge might have let you find her before,” Theo said and Niall nodded reluctant agreement.
“I despise that we must wait for his move,” Drake murmured, and a familiar glitter lit his eyes. “There must be a way to change the course of events.”
“Well, I’m going to head home and clean up my lab,” Sloane said. “Try to stay out of fights for a while, so I can get some work done.”
Drake surveyed the kitchen. “I must speak to the boy,” he said softly.
“He’s safe,” Theo said. “I checked with the Pyr guarding him.”
“At least rest until tomorrow,” Sloane said, doubting that Drake would do any such thing.
“If he’s been left alone this long, then Jorge has no interest in him,” Niall said.
“And why should he?” Drake murmured. “He has won this round, and the boy is not Pyr.”
“It’s not over yet,” Theo said with false cheer. “The Dragon’s Tail doesn’t turn for almost another year.”
Sloane dropped his gaze to his steaming cup as the kitchen fell silent. He guessed that he wasn’t the only one with doubts about their collective future. He’d never known of a mate being lost like this, and h
e couldn’t help thinking it was a very bad sign.
What if Jorge did eliminate them all within the year?
“It’s so strange to have all these replicas of Boris Vassily appear at once,” Niall said. “It’s like Jorge has a photocopier someplace, one that makes Slayers.”
Sloane looked up from his tea. “Clones,” he said suddenly. “What if they’re clones?”
The other Pyr glanced at each other, then back at him. “How would we find out?”
“I don’t know,” Sloane said. “Maybe by dissecting one. Or two.”
“Good luck,” Theo said. “Didn’t you see that video? They’ve all had the Elixir so the survivors ate the dead one to get more.”
“Still, we might manage it,” Drake mused. “It would be worth a try, as doing so might weaken Jorge further.”
“One of them did disappear,” Sloane said. “Maybe we could find him.”
A ripple of excitement passed through the room.
“We can talk to Erik about it, spread the word,” Niall said. “We don’t know when they’re going to pop up, but when they do, we can try to keep a corpse.”
“We just have to get one to Sloane,” Theo said.
“I’d better order a chest freezer, just in case,” Sloane said, feeling a new optimism. “And do some research.” He didn’t know much about cloning, although he remembered the story of Dolly the sheep.
If a sheep could be cloned, why not a Slayer? It was horrifyingly plausible.
It was also possible that cloned Slayers might share a common weakness.
“So, let’s review the count,” Niall said. He pulled out a sheet of paper. “Two attacked Erik in Chicago, and one had its wings torn off before they disappeared. He was later eaten by the others, according to Veronica and that video.”
“Three others attacked Veronica’s home,” Drake contributed.
“And the one who lost an arm has vanished from the feast,” Sloane added. “We saw that in the video, too, although he could be anywhere.”
“That makes four survivors,” concluded Kristofer.