“Earth,” he said and the other Pyr repeated his word.
Alexander pushed the scale back into the fire and the flames licked it hungrily. When he removed it again, both it and the stone from the Mothers had fused into one and were so hot that they were pale yellow and smoking.
He extended the scale and Damien blew on it.
“Air,” Alexander said, along with the other Pyr.
Alexander lifted the scale and pressed it against the bare spot on Damien’s chest. Petra heard the hiss as it seared his flesh and she stepped forward in concern. Damien tipped back his head and roared at the pain.
To Petra’s surprise, Alexander touched her cheek with his claw. “Water,” he murmured, and transferred her tear to the hot scale. The water sizzled against it, sending up a stream of vapor as it disappeared. To her relief, the scale darkened immediately and Damien shuddered in relief.
Alexander then lifted her son from her arms and held him high. “Welcome, Orion! Welcome to the new Pyr among us!” The Pyr roared approval, each one tipping back his head to send a blaze of dragonfire into the sky.
There was a crack like lightning and a blue-green bolt of darkfire appeared out of nowhere. Petra gasped when it touched her son, but then it was gone and he was gurgling happily. The flames of the bonfire leapt toward the sky, casting a joyous spray of sparks in every direction as if in celebration, and Damien caught both her and her son close to his repaired chest.
Petra checked the baby, only to discover that there was a small mark on his arm, just like the one on his father’s arm.
“He’s one of us,” Damien murmured to her and Petra nodded, glancing at the Mothers. He was of her kind as well, and she couldn’t wait to see what that combination brought in the future.
Damien flew a triumphant circle around the peak of the mountain, making Petra laugh with his obvious happiness. The Pyr cheered as he landed and shifted shape quickly, holding Petra fast against his chest all the while.
And when he kissed her thoroughly, Petra could only return his embrace in kind. Her heart was alight with happiness and she had the urge to sing that love song to him all over again. Against all expectation, they’d been given the second chance they needed to make their partnership work.
Nothing would ever drive them apart again.
* * *
Ready for more of the Dragon Legion?
Read on for an excerpt from
Kiss of Destiny
Third of the Dragon Legion Novellas
Copyright © 2013 Deborah A. Cooke
* * *
Drake had never been more exhausted in his life. He could barely keep his eyes open, but he didn’t dare to close them. He didn’t trust the darkfire crystal to sleep while he did. He didn’t know how long they’d been on this ordeal with the unpredictable stone, but he didn’t think he could survive much more of it.
There was just himself and Thad left, the younger Dragon Legion Warrior filled with an enthusiasm that Drake couldn’t match.
They were together in a nameless park, sitting on the stone lip of a fountain. Night was falling and the stars were coming out. The park, which had been busy earlier in the day was becoming more and more quiet, as people returned home with their children and dogs. Unless Drake missed his guess, this park was in an American city in the twenty-first century. Their clothing blended in well enough here for them to avoid scrutiny.
Drake wondered if that would be the case if they stretched out and slept on the benches.
“I wonder why it brought us here,” Thad mused. He was like a curious child, thrilled with every place the darkfire crystal deposited them and intent upon figuring out the logic of the darkfire.
“It could be whim,” Drake said.
Thad shook his head. “No, there has to be a reason. There has to be a point.”
Drake said nothing. He’d learned long ago that many events in life didn’t have a point. All the same, he remembered having Thad’s optimism once, many many years ago.
“There’s no firestorm’s spark,” Drake couldn’t help but observe. “Maybe your theory is wrong.”
“No, it makes perfect sense for the darkfire crystal to take us to our firestorms. That way, we find our destined mates and make more Pyr.”
“Perhaps the darkfire thinks there are enough dragon shape shifters in the world. It was released by the Slayer Chen, and he has no fondness for our kind.”
“It’s older than he is I think, and strong enough to use him for its purposes.”
“You don’t know.”
Thad grinned. “No, but I like that answer better.”
“Even if it isn’t the truth?” Thad leaned closer and bumped shoulders with Drake, a gesture of such familiarity that Drake was shocked. “Come on,” Thad said. “Don’t you want to go back to Cassandra again?”
Drake didn’t answer that. He stared into the depths of the stone and admitted his secret fear. Although he’d been happy enough with the results of his firestorm at the time, the centuries had changed him. He wanted more than sex and sons. He knew Cassandra was self-reliant and didn’t doubt that she’d provided well enough for herself in his absence. She was practical and not afraid to be tough. She would have raised their son well. He knew, though, that if he returned to her after all his adventures, he would do so as a changed man. The man he had become might not be so content with Cassandra.
And, to be fair, Cassandra might not be very content with him. He turned the large quartz crystal in his hands thoughtfully.
No, when Drake thought of women, he remembered the military widow he’d helped in the modern world. Although their acquaintance had been short and businesslike, Ronnie had made an impression upon him. She was both vulnerable and strong, a woman who was used to having a partner’s support to rely upon, but one who had only begun to understand her own strength. He’d found her extremely attractive, even though he knew his feelings were inappropriate. He’d been shocked that he could find a woman alluring who was so different from his Cassandra.
Her full name, Veronica, meant ‘little truth’, and Drake had since concluded that it had been their brief association that had shown him the truth about himself. He wasn’t the man he had once been. He didn’t want what he’d wanted before, or even what he’d had. As much as he wanted to see his son and as much as he understood his responsibilities, Drake had very mixed feelings about being cast back in time to finish what had begun.
He couldn’t tell Thaddeus that, of course. The other man wouldn’t have understood. Thad was so filled with wonder and enthusiasm and optimism that Drake couldn’t introduce the idea to him that the firestorm might not be right every time, or that it might not be right forever.
He might have hoped the crystal would stay dark, but that would have been cowardly.
When the blue-green spark trapped deep inside the stone began to glow more brightly, it was all Drake could do to keep from groaning aloud.
Thad noticed immediately. “This is it!” the younger warrior declared. “Do you think it will be you or me this time?”
“If you’re right that the darkfire is taking each of us to our firestorm, then I hope it’s you.” Drake knew he sounded as weary as he felt.
Thad shot a bright glance his way. “That makes no sense. You’re just thinking of the men under your command before you think of yourself.” Thad paused but Drake didn’t want to shatter his illusions. “I know you want to return to Cassandra and your son, Theo. It would only be right.”
Drake kept silent and watched the darkfire brighten. Where would it take them this time? Was this the time that they’d be separated for all time? Or would his Dragon Legion be reunited, once the stone completed its quest?
“That’s what Alexander did,” Thad said with confidence. “He returned to his Katina...”
“You don’t know that for certain,” Drake said sternly. “You know that the darkfire took us to the village where he had lived with her.”
“Well, why else would it do
that?”
“I can’t begin to guess.” Actually, Drake had many ideas of what might have happened. He and his men had been enchanted for centuries. There was no telling what had occurred at their homes in their absence. There hadn’t been any way to tell when Alexander arrived at that village. It could have been before he’d even met Katina or long after she’d died, missing him. She could have been married again, or glad to be without him, or they might not have gotten along after his return.
“You can guess. You sound dire, like Peter always did.” Thad laughed. “I couldn’t believe the look on his face when his firestorm sparked.”
“There’s nothing saying he succeeded in satisfying it.”
Thad laughed and the stone brightened even more. It seemed to pulse with that inner energy and Drake could feel it heating his skin. A wind swept through the park, shaking the trees and tugging at their clothes. Drake stood up and Thad stood beside him, then grasped his commander’s shoulder so he wouldn’t be left behind.
And just in time. The darkfire cracked like lightning and the park disappeared in a swirl of dust and fallen leaves. They were picked up from the ground and flung hard through the air, as if a tornado had seized them. Drake couldn’t see anything but he reached out and grabbed Thad’s arm, not wanting to lose the younger man in the storm.
They were cast down hard upon a stony surface and the wind stilled. The spark in the stone died to a mere pinprick of light and Drake sat up cautiously.
They were surrounded by fog, but he had the definite sense that they were at some elevated altitude. The air seemed thin and the silence seemed oddly resonant, the way it does when there is nothing but wind and sky.
He realized belatedly that Thad was unusually silent and turned to the younger man in concern. Thad was fine, but sitting on the ground cross-legged. He was staring at the tip of the fingers on his left hand, probably because golden sparks had lit on them. His mouth had fallen open in awe and he grinned at Drake.
“I’ve never felt like this,” he whispered and the light wind seemed to steal his words away. “She’s here. She’s here somewhere and the darkfire has brought me to her!” He leapt to his feet and spun around, holding up his hand in search of a direction. Predictably, the flames flared higher when he stretched his hand out to one side. The rocks seemed to climb higher there, as if the peak of the mountain was that way.
Drake had time to dread Thad’s reaction before the other man strode to him and shook his hand heartily. “I don’t know when we’ll meet again, Drake, but thank you. Thank you for all you’ve taught me, and all the times you’ve defended me, and everything.” His eyes were alight with anticipation.
“Maybe we should follow the flame together,” Drake managed to say before the light in the crystal shimmered again.
“Your turn is next!” Thad insisted, then shocked his commander by pulling him into a tight embrace. “Thank you, Drake. May the Great Wyvern always be with you.”
And then he was gone, leaping over the rocks in pursuit of the firestorm’s flame. His figure was swallowed by the fog in no time at all, leaving Drake looking down at the blinking stone in trepidation.
He closed his eyes when the wind raged around him. He kept them closed when he was swept off his feet. He grimaced as the maelstrom spun around him, casting him this way and that, tearing at him like he was made of straw. He both wanted it to end and feared what he’d find when it did. He winced when he fell hard against a smooth surface.
Like concrete.
The wind stilled and snowflakes on his face. It was cold and there was a stiff wind, one that smelled of water. It could have been blowing off a lake. He could hear the distant sound of traffic and he sensed the presence of a dragonsmoke barrier, breathed thick and deep. He caught a whiff of gunpowder and sulfur, of the chemicals used in pyrotechnics, mingled with the scents of Pyr he had known.
He sensed one particular dragon shape shifter, the leader of the Pyr himself.
Drake opened one eye warily, already having guessed where he was in Chicago. He was on the roof of the building that contained Erik Sorensson’s loft, and despite himself, he was relieved. He looked down at the crystal in his hand, only to find that its heart was completely dark. Even when he peered closely at it and strained his vision, he could see no glimmer of darkfire within it.
Its quest was done. Drake was cast into the future to stay.
The darkfire crystal had brought him here as its last act, because its rightful place was in the hoard of the leader of the Pyr. Drake pushed to his feet wearily, only having the strength to rise because he knew he would be able to sleep as long as necessary within the protective barrier of Erik’s dragonsmoke boundary.
And that was a greater gift than he’d ever expected the darkfire to give him.
* * *
Kiss of Destiny
Third of the Dragon Legion Novellas
Coming Soon!
Deborah also writes time travel romances as Claire Delacroix. Read on for a sample of
Love Potion #9
Italy, August 1420: A gypsy named Lilith sees her lover hanged for a crime he didn’t commit. On the gallows, he swears to return to her. Convinced that one day he’ll be reborn, she searches for a fabled elixir — rumored to grant immortality...
Toronto, August 1999: Waiting has taken its toll on Lilith, now a fortune-teller with a gift for matchmaking. So she concocts her strongest love potion ever. She is certain her magic has worked when the spitting image of her one true love moves in next door.
A very practical — and skeptical — single father, Mitch Davison is intrigued by Lilith’s passionate welcome, yet suspicious of her motives. After all, he’s never believed in magic — and hasn’t believed in love since his wife left him. But when Lilith doubts her own intuition, it’s Mitch who must convince her that the greatest gift of all is the talent to follow your own heart...
Excerpt from
Love Potion #9
Copyright © 1999, 2011 Claire Delacroix, Inc.
All Rights Reserved.
* * *
Lilith was in a funk. She rattled through her house, picking listlessly at this crystal or that astrological chart. She was dimly aware of the moving van disgorging possessions next door, but wasn’t really interested.
She was hot in more ways than one.
It was their 579th anniversary and—just like the last 578 times—Sebastian hadn’t shown.
Yet, even given that, today Lilith couldn’t evict Sebastian from her mind. The memory of the evening they’d spent together tormented her. The echo of his last pledge rang in her ears. She had dreamed of him the night before, relived that precious time so vividly that she’d been sure she could feel his hands on her when she awakened in the morning.
But he wasn’t there.
Lilith was alone.
Still.
Maybe it was the heat that tried her patience.
Maybe it was this marathon run of celibacy that was getting on her nerves. Lilith had been patient, but immortality alone wasn’t a lot of fun. She was tired of being resilient and optimistic. She was tired of being cheerful in solitude.
Lilith was done with the waiting.
And Sebastian was late, but any calculation.
Tarot card reader, astrologist and crystal therapist, Lilith had adopted all the trappings of the occult to mask her Gift. She was reluctant to give any hint of the real nature of her talent, so she blamed everything on the tarot cards. People found it easier to believe that a stack of cardboard cards held the secrets of the future than that Lilith could see the truth in their eyes.
For the fact was that the draught for immortality – when Lilith had ultimately earned the right to a sip – had added an interesting twist to her innate Gift. After drinking that elixir, Lilith could see anyone’s match right in their eyes. Regardless of where that lovematch was in the world, she could set anyone on the path to connecting with his or her soulmate.
Maybe it was because her h
eart had been so full of Sebastian when she had that precious sip.
It was a bitter kind of irony to make her living consoling the lovelorn when she was so lonely herself. Lilith didn’t even know how many weddings she’d been invited to attend, mostly because she had in some way been responsible for introducing the bride and groom.
Always a bridesmaid, as the saying went.
The experience was getting old. She’d stopped going stag to weddings five years before, but it didn’t make her feel any better. The invitations were bad enough.
Sebastian was taking his own sweet time returning to her, that much was for certain. Lilith remembered the way he had kissed her and her skin heated. She closed her eyes and leaned back in her favorite chair to remember every caress, one more time.
The only time.
So much for promises made on the gallows.
Lilith frowned at the room, and caught the knowing glint in D’Artagnan’s eyes. That cat saw too much, and it was a blessing he couldn’t talk. He had moved in with purpose two years before, characteristically disinterested in Lilith’s opinion of his presence.
She wondered whether the cat knew that she only let him stay in deliberate defiance of Rom norms. Cats licked themselves, polluting inside with outside. Cats were dirty in Rom terms. Cats were mahrime.
But then, Lilith had been mahrime herself for a long time. Maybe there was a twisted kind of justice in D’Artagnan’s deliberate adoption of her. Maybe they belonged together.
That wasn’t the most optimistic thought she could have had.
Lilith wondered why she had any concern with mahrime conventions. It wasn’t as if the Rom and their ideas had anything to do with her. Nope, she was just a witch who told fortunes, not a gypsy at all. She had studied gadje witchcraft, learned to mix potions and cast spells, draw circles for the moon and read astrological charts, too.