“A what?”
“An Elemental Witch. All flames respond to the call of a Firedaughter.”
Jac folded her arms across her chest. She was watching the dancing flames of the firestorm on her own skin, enjoying the heat they kindled in her body and the sense of intimacy she felt with Marco. It made her feel alive. Tingly. Filled with temptation and possibility. “I’m not a Firedaughter.”
“I know.”
“So, how could I fire the crystal?”
“I don’t know.” Marco had finished shaving. He rinsed his face and wiped it off, running a hand over his chin to check his job. “I’ll put that in the intriguing column.”
“But the fact that I did it in the annoying column.”
“Pretty much. I don’t think anyone or anything has ever made me so angry.”
Jac swallowed. At least he hadn’t slaughtered her for that. Her gaze slid to the Dracontias and hope flared in her heart. “Maybe we can make it right,” she said. “We could take the Dracontias to Rafferty. It would heal him.”
Marco considered the idea for a long moment, then shook his head. “No. We have to trust the darkfire.”
“What does that mean?”
“It brought us here. If Rafferty needed the Dracontias, the darkfire would have taken us to him. He’s not in Virginia.”
“But my sister is!” Jac said with rising excitement. “And she’s looking for a cure for the Seattle virus, the one that Jorge spread.”
Marco nodded with satisfaction. “Then the stone is for her. That’s why the darkfire brought us here. It’s probably the key to finding the antidote that will undo some of the damage.”
“Because the Pyr defend the treasures of the earth, including humans,” Jac recalled from the book.
“Exactly.” Marco met her gaze in the mirror, and Jac felt the simmer between them grow hotter. It was impossible to not think about sex.
And the inevitable result of satisfying a firestorm.
“Why would you want me to have your son anyway? I might raise him with a conflicted view of himself.”
Marco gave her a hard look. “Pyr don’t have conflicted views of themselves.”
“Your kind might not even survive the year.”
“Not if you have anything to say about it, you mean?”
“Well, not necessarily.”
He smiled quickly, but not so quickly that Jac didn’t see his triumphant expression.
“Jorge could finish you off,” she insisted. “Or some other force of nature.”
“Which just implies that opportunity shouldn’t be wasted.”
“We’re not satisfying the firestorm.” Jac didn’t feel nearly as certain of that as she hoped she sounded.
“That’s your opinion, I know.” He was maddeningly, infuriatingly calm.
“You know, I’m not the only one who both irritates and intrigues.”
Marco actually laughed. Jac didn’t think she’d ever heard him laugh out loud like that before, and she liked it. “Good. It means the darkfire is working for and against us.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That darkfire has governed my life and darkfire has its sparks in my firestorm, too. Think about it: you’re the least likely candidate to be the destined mate of a Pyr. What are the odds of my having a firestorm with the one mortal woman on the planet sworn to wipe my kind from the face of the earth?”
“Pretty long, I’d think.”
“More than long. It’s completely improbable. It defies expectation and challenges assumptions, both yours and mine.” He seemed to find this reassuring.
“Like darkfire does,” Jac said and Marco nodded.
“Darkfire pushes and pulls, inverts situations and challenges us to see things in new ways. Like the way you fought Jorge and the Slayers. Like the way we both excite and get at each other. Darkfire is lighting our firestorm and making both of us reconsider what we believe to be true.”
“But that doesn’t change everything. I’m still not going to have your son.”
Marco smiled the smile of a man accepting a challenge. He turned a glittering glance on Jac, one that reminded her of what he was and also what they’d done before, one that dissolved her resistance and put her body on his side. The flames of the firestorm seemed to sizzle with greater heat.
“Which only means that I’m going to have to change your mind,” he murmured and Jac knew it wasn’t going to be as hard for him to succeed as she might have hoped.
She could be pregnant in moments.
She could be alone with a son on the way in six months, if the Pyr faced their final challenge and lost.
Or would he die, too? “Wait. If only Slayers survive the final battle, what happens to the sons of the Pyr?”
Marco paused. “No one knows. This has never happened before.”
“But if the Pyr lose…”
Marco was grim. “I’d rather think about us winning.”
“But if the Pyr lose, any son of a Pyr would have to either die, become Slayer or become fully human. Which would it be?”
He frowned and stared at the floor, considering. “I don’t think it’s possible to become Slayer without making a conscious choice to do so,” was what he finally said.
That still left two crappy options for any surviving child.
At least that was what Jac thought. Marco, however, thought of a third.
“They probably won’t have a chance to reach puberty, not if the Slayers triumph and eliminate all of us Pyr,” he said softly. “Slayers like Jorge would hunt down the survivors to ensure there was no chance of them ever becoming Pyr, much less trying to avenge the death of their fathers.”
“So, I’m supposed to conceive a son who will have a future like that?”
Marco’s eyes narrowed. “We’re going to win.”
Jac wasn’t so sure. She panicked and said the first thing that came to mind. “And you have to change my mind, right? Because the firestorm has to be satisfied, regardless of what I might think of it all?”
Marco eyed her with new wariness. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that I’m sick of being useful,” Jac said, surprised by the heat in her own tone. “I mean that I expected better of a destined partnership.” She folded her arms across her chest, feeling as if she’d bared her soul to him on a whim. Her voice dropped low. “I mean that when I have a child, I want it to be with a man who loves me for who I am and wants to be partners for the duration. I want that child to be an expression of love, not for me to be a means to an end.”
Marco looked away, and Jac feared he’d walk out and leave her behind. She had time to wonder whether she’d said too much.
But Marco nodded with resolve, then faced her, his eyes dark with intent. “Then I have work to do,” he murmured, a smile curving his lips. “I’d better get started.”
Their gazes locked and the firestorm flared. Jac guessed that between him and the firestorm, she really didn’t have a chance.
* * *
Brandon didn’t like leaving the kids alone any longer than necessary, but Liz was so agitated that this search had to be necessary. He flew her and Chandra back over Marco’s path to Uluru, following it by scent.
“No surprise that he was staying at Yulara,” Liz said under her breath. “It’s pretty much the only place to stay that’s close.”
“But it is a surprise that he stayed high-end,” Brandon said, landing outside the private cottage that was the terminus of Marco’s trail. He didn’t know Marco well but thought him a Pyr disinterested in physical comforts. It was his firestorm, but he couldn’t have known of it enough in advance to book this place for this night.
Or had Marco known? Brandon wasn’t sure how much the darkfire twisted things around. He felt alert, aware of the mate’s presence as well as the lingering heat of their firestorm. His body was remembering his own firestorm.
“Nice,” Chandra said and took the stairs two at a time. The door was unlocked and
they stopped as one in the small foyer. The cottage was luxuriously appointed and the view of Uluru was amazing.
“Wow, firestorm satisfaction in style,” Liz murmured, but Brandon was scanning the cottage for details. Marco and the woman had been intimate, he could smell that, but he could still feel the firestorm’s heat. They must have been together before it had sparked.
Interesting. Did the darkfire give Marco foresight?
Liz was in the closet. “There’s one piece of luggage, and it’s tagged for Jacelyn Wilcox.” She rummaged through the clothes. “Nothing special here.”
“Nor here,” Chandra said from the bathroom.
Brandon followed his nose to the far side of the bed. He reached under the mattress and withdrew a notebook. It was redolent of the scent of a human, and he filled his nostrils with her smell as he cracked open the book. The scent was that of Jacelyn, Marco’s mate.
Dragon hunter.
The interior pages were filled with pictures of Pyr and Slayers, printed out from a computer. They were organized with images of any given dragon shifter on the left hand page and notes about him on the right. The book was divided into three sections, although Brandon didn’t understand how any Pyr ended up where he did. Brandon’s scalp prickled when he found his father’s image, from the time Brandt had closed the Thames Barrier with Erik and Sloane.
The page for Rafferty noted that he had a bond with Melissa Smith, that he appeared in her broadcasts, that he might live in London or Washington D.C. There was a big red X through the main picture of Rafferty along with a date.
October 20, 2014.
Liz came to look over his shoulder, his silence having drawn her attention. “The day he was shot down,” she murmured and Brandon nodded. “Wasn’t Marco there?”
Brandon nodded again.
“Melissa said he was shot by a woman,” Chandra said, coming to their side.
This woman?
Marco’s mate? That didn’t ally with anything Brandon knew to be right. He fanned through the book, finding more images of Erik, his father, Lorenzo, Sloane, Thorolf and Jorge. His anger rose that this woman dared to compile this data on them, to hunt them, to target them, then he turned the last page.
Liz tilted her head to read the verse. “It’s a prophecy, like the ones the Pyr usually have for firestorms.”
“But why does she have it?” Chandra asked. “It wouldn’t have been given to her.”
Brandon had a terrible feeling he knew. “What if it was given to Marco?”
Liz frowned. “Wouldn’t he have given it to Erik?”
Chandra inhaled sharply. “Not if Erik’s right and Marco is changing sides.”
“What if he knew about his firestorm?” Brandon asked softly, then confided what he’d learned. “He was here with her before the firestorm sparked, before the eclipse. It hasn’t been satisfied.”
“You think she’s the one who shot Rafferty?” Chandra asked.
“I’m wondering if they were together even then,” Brandon said.
“But Marco brought Rafferty to Sloane,” Liz protested.
“Maybe things didn’t go exactly as he’d planned,” Brandon suggested. “Maybe Rafferty’s appearance was a surprise. He is probably closest to Rafferty of all of us.” He looked up. “Maybe if it had been another one of us, he wouldn’t have intervened.”
“You think he’s changing sides, too,” Liz whispered, looking as dismayed as Brandon felt.
“He told Jorge he wanted the Elixir.”
“I still think it could have been a ruse,” Liz insisted, though she was less confident than before.
“Either way, we need to get this to Erik,” Brandon said and they nodded in agreement.
“Let’s scan it and email it to him,” Liz said briskly.
Chandra nodded. “We need to stick together and there are too many of us for you to carry.” She met Brandon’s gaze, anticipating his suggestion. “We should be with the boys, and wait for Thorolf there.”
“Erik might want us to stay put,” Brandon said, but Liz shook her head.
“The next eclipse will be seen best from North and South America,” she said briskly. “Chandra and I found these eggs, but not quickly enough. Maybe we can find the next batch sooner.”
“Are you sure there will be another batch?” Brandon asked, suspecting he knew the answer but hoping to be wrong.
Chandra tapped the verse in the book. “Thirteen monsters,” she read, then met his gaze. “So far, I’ve only counted seven.”
“And there’s another blood moon in October,” Liz said. “The last eclipse of the Dragon’s Tail.”
She was right. This battle wasn’t finished yet.
* * *
Veronica was tired, both from her pregnancy and her illness, but Drake was content to simply be in her presence. She seemed to be glad to have him beside her as well, and he savored the opportunity to help her bathe that afternoon. They shared a light meal and then her eyelids drooped again. She refused to go to bed, which Drake took to be either a sign of stubbornness or of improvement—both of which he respected—and laid down on a settee at the far end of the garden. Drake sat opposite her and breathed dragonsmoke, piling it higher and deeper around the greenhouse, around Sloane’s home, around the property itself.
Evening fell and the lights in the greenhouse garden came on. There were dozens of them tucked in between the plants, all powered by solar batteries, and they created an intimate golden light. Sloane rapped on the glass barrier and Drake went to speak to him, the pair deciding that Veronica would probably awaken soon and be ready to eat. Sloane was much encouraged by the progress in her condition and gave Drake a thumbs-up.
Drake returned to find Veronica stirring from sleep.
She smiled as he placed a hand upon her forehead. “Cooler yet,” he said with a smile, and she stretched luxuriously.
“I feel much better.” She glanced around the greenhouse, her eyes shining with pleasure. “It looks like a fairyland.”
Drake shrugged, not really understanding the reference. “I find it romantic,” he admitted, hoping that was similar, and was relieved when she smiled again.
“So do I.” They walked around the gardens again and she used the washroom. Drake went through the airlock to the halfway point to get their meal then lit candles on the table while he waited for Veronica. She had twisted up her hair when she appeared again, and looked so beautiful that his throat tightened.
Drake had to press on with his confessions. He had to ensure that the Great Wyvern’s pleasure was won. There was pasta with vegetables and grilled chicken, as well as a salad and sparkling water. Veronica ate with an enthusiasm that reassured Drake.
She pointed at him with her fork. “Don’t I get another story?” she teased and he smiled before leaning closer to begin. He knew just the one.
“The first of my men to be freed from the spell was Nikolas of Thebes, a valiant warrior of great honor. I cannot share his tale and the lesson it granted to me without telling you more of our kind. We Pyr are all male and we bear sons, always.”
“That’s how you knew the baby would be a boy,” Veronica said. “I learned that in my research.”
“But at any given moment, there is one female in our kind. She is called the Wyvern and has the power of prophecy, among other gifts. In our time, she was elusive. We knew of her, but it was considered miraculous indeed to ever see her. I don’t know that I ever knew a Pyr who had seen the Wyvern, not until I awakened in this era.” He gestured broadly. “The Wyvern when the spell upon us was broken was a beauty named Sophie, and she engaged actively in the affairs of the Pyr.”
Veronica looked up with curiosity. “Why the change?”
“We are engaged in a war, a battle called the Dragon’s Tail Wars, a war that will end this October.”
“Six months from now?” she demanded. “What kind of war?”
“A war that only we or the Slayers will survive.”
Veronica put down
her fork. “You could all be dead?”
Drake held her gaze, knowing she would not like this part of his truth. “It is prophesied that only Pyr or Slayers will survive when the moon’s node changes to the Dragon’s Head. We will triumph or we will die. The Wyvern, I believe, revealed herself in the hope that her influence would turn the tide.”
Veronica was clearly dismayed. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
“Nor do I,” Drake said. “I assure you, Veronica, that I do not mean to die so soon as this.”
“I wonder what the Wyvern saw in the future,” she murmured. “Maybe the view was enough to convince her to become involved.”
“It might be so. I have to think that her choices made a difference.”
“Why?”
“First a bit more about Nikolas of Thebes.” Drake smiled a little and saw that she was encouraged. “Nikolas took one look at Sophie and lost his heart forever. Sophie, I believe, felt the same way, but an amorous bond between the Wyvern and a Pyr is unthinkable.” He met her gaze. “We mate with humans, not each other. Such a love was not only forbidden, but a violation of everything we know to be true.”
“And they knew it?”
“Of course. That is why I believe they chose to sacrifice themselves to save our kind.” He swallowed, remembering the sight in Magnus’ hidden Academy all too well. “I was there when they chose to die in order to save others. It did not have to be that way.”
“But they chose for the greater good.” Veronica was guessing, her gaze fixed on Drake.
“They did. I was there when they clutched talons for the last time. I saw the spell that they wove with their devotion and their passion, and I saw them die.”
“Did their choice save others?”
“With their sacrifice, they destroyed the Academy, a place of great wickedness where Pyr dead and alive were enslaved.”
“Another viper,” she said and Drake was startled.
“You are right. Magnus was called a Slayer, but he had much in common with the vipers and worms I knew.”
“And you saw it because you were hunting again.” She smiled.
Drake nodded. “It is what I do.”
Veronica put down her fork again. “You’re using the past tense. Is that part of your life over?”