Rafferty’s forebear Pwyll had been the Cantor of the Pyr, and the one to trap darkfire within the quartz crystals. Had he done it during a firestorm? Sloane didn’t know. When his smoke finally touched Rafferty and swirled around that Pyr, Sloane tried to beckon to the darkfire with what he remembered of the Cantor’s song.
He wasn’t making much progress, but then there was a sudden crackle, as if electricity had swept through the room. The lights flickered and Sloane felt a shiver pass over his skin.
It was followed by a flush of distant heat. He inhaled sharply, knowing he was feeling the spark of a firestorm. It was far away, but tinged by darkfire.
Marco.
So, he hadn’t turned to the Slayer side. Sloane’s gaze flew to Erik, who was breathing steadily and slowly. The pressure of his father’s hand on his shoulder increased and Sloane turned to look toward the kitchen.
He could discern a shady figure there, an older man he didn’t know.
“This,” the apparition whispered in old-speak. He began to chant a song that Sloane found both familiar and unpredictable. It was Pwyll’s ghost!
Sloane echoed the chant, learning the tune and the sound of the words. He didn’t understand the words themselves and guessed they were Welsh. He didn’t know why Pwyll had appeared to him and not to Erik, but he didn’t care.
He sang and Erik followed his lead.
The darkfire recognized the chant. From the first note, the blue-green light leapt and snapped, apparently in response to the summons. Erik closed his claw over Sloane’s, making his own link to the crystal, and sang with vigor. Sloane and Erik continued together, compelled to keep the slow rhythm of the Cantor’s chant. The darkfire glittered like a river of ice crystals, and it flowed toward the crystal, albeit at the speed of a glacier. Finally, Sloane saw its icy swirl inside the crystal itself.
The Cantor’s chant was deep and low, as relentless as the movement of the earth’s crust. Sloane and Erik sang together, holding the notes longer than Sloane could have believed possible, summoning the darkfire as best they were able. Sloane heard Drake add his voice to theirs and the walls of the house rumbled with their song. Quinn and Lee lent their voices to the chorus, too. The floor vibrated beneath them, as if the earth itself resonated, and the darkfire moved steadily into the stone.
The chant was filled with ancient power. The darkfire’s hue brightened where Sloane’s dragonsmoke touched Rafferty, creating a glow at those points. The chant seemed to be congealing the darkfire into a brilliant glowing orb of blue-green. Sloane could see the same effect in Erik’s dragonsmoke. The darkfire had dimmed beneath Rafferty’s scales at the most distant points from the dragonsmoke, as if extinguished there.
Encouraged, Sloane sang with greater vigor, well aware that the eclipse had passed its zenith. The shadow seemed to slide off the moon more quickly, or maybe he was just too aware of how much darkfire still lingered beneath Rafferty’s scales.
Suddenly the shadowy outline of Pwyll disappeared.
The lights went out.
Before Sloane’s eyes, the river of darkfire glowed as if it were phosphorescent. It danced and glimmered, and dragonsmoke conduit sparkled along its length with the distinctive hue of darkfire. Sloane sang and the darkfire snapped, racing down the dragonsmoke to embed itself in the crystal.
The eclipse was over.
Rafferty’s body was darker, now, touched only by stray glimmers of darkfire, like heat lightning after a storm.
Sloane broke the link between his dragonsmoke and Rafferty’s body, creating a closed conduit with Erik’s dragonsmoke instead. They both retreated, drawing the dragonsmoke with its snared darkfire away from Rafferty.
The quartz crystal flashed blue-green, as brilliant as a strobe light. The darkfire vanished from beneath Rafferty’s scales and shone brilliantly within the crystal.
Rafferty gave a heartfelt sigh, a shudder rolling over his body.
His eyelids fluttered, then he began to hum the Cantor’s song. Sloane and Erik exchanged a glance and sang with Rafferty. They sang until the eclipse was completed, then all three changed to their human forms in a brilliant flash of blue.
The darkfire burned in the stone, secured there.
The power came back on, the fridge humming to life in the kitchen.
Sloane heaved a sigh of relief and confided the news to Drake in old-speak. He was exhausted, but he didn’t care. He’d given of himself to help Rafferty, and he would do it again, without hesitation. He felt his father squeeze his shoulder, then that precious weight was gone.
Rafferty rolled over and sighed. Melissa kissed his forehead and he smiled, enfolding her in his arms without opening his eyes. Even from across the room, Sloane knew it was a healing sleep, and that the older Pyr would awaken much recovered. He nodded to Erik, then returned to the lab.
One patient was recovering, but he had another yet to heal.
Even with his task incomplete, he was making progress and that lightened Sloane’s step.
He was the Apothecary, and his role was to heal.
Chapter Nineteen
Jorge reached out with a claw to snatch Jac from the vehicle, but she wasn’t going to be captured as easily as that. She kicked at him and ducked lower. She felt his talons slide through her hair, but managed to crawl to the driver’s side.
Her first dragon fight had her adrenaline pumping.
Jac jammed her foot down on the accelerator, then when the truck shot forward, managed to get in the seat. Jorge roared and spewed flame as she evaded his grasp, then he bore down on her. Jac could hear the beat of his wings and feel the heat of his dragonfire and doubted she’d get far.
There was no refuge, no place she could hide. The outback stretched in every direction, offering no sanctuary. Uluru was ahead of her and not much else. The tourist accommodation of Yulara was behind her, but she wasn’t going to lead Jorge back to those people, not after she’d seen him in Seattle. She had the pedal to the floor, pushing the vehicle to go as quickly as it could. She was bounced around as it hit holes in the earth and ran through bush that obscured her vision, then snapped away. The wind rushed over her and she had a clear view of the stars and the eclipsed moon overhead.
She glanced back to find Jorge flying close behind her, his head bent low. His eyes were right behind the truck and she had the sense he was laughing at her. She couldn’t even see Marco, which wasn’t a good thing. Had he given up on her? Jorge opened his mouth and she knew what would come out.
“Come on!” she urged the truck, but it wouldn’t go any faster.
She turned hard to the right, and the vehicle nearly rolled from the quick move. Dust spewed behind her, temporarily obscuring the sight of the dragon in pursuit, and Jac worked with that. She accelerated and slowed, turned right and left, drove in circles, and stirred up as much dust as possible. She heard Jorge roar in anger and then the crash of dragons colliding overhead.
A corona of flame erupted over her head and arms, as if her skin had suddenly erupted in fire. Jac stared in wonder at the sparks of the firestorm and remembered all too easily how it had felt to make love with Marco. Desire distracted her in a dangerous way, even though her heart was pounding.
Marco had come to save her!
The book was right.
There had to be an upside to being a dragon’s mate. Jac pushed the accelerator to the floor again.
As she raced out of the cloud of dust, Jac saw that Jorge was locked in battle with the dark dragon that was Marco. They battled so savagely that she didn’t want to look away from the fight. She had to do so, though, to steal glances at the ground ahead of her as she drove. She tried to think, despite her fear and the effect of the firestorm.
The two dragons were fighting, which meant that they were on opposite sides.
Or they were in competition for the prize—which was her.
She had the definite feeling that only one would fly away. They clashed overhead and roared, their tails whipping through the a
ir. They were twined around each other, biting snapping, each grappling for advantage. Marco and Jorge raged dragonfire, lighting up the night with their battle.
They remained over her as they fought, following the path of the SUV. Jac guessed that Jorge wanted to snatch her up and Marco wanted to save her. She wished in hindsight that she hadn’t run from him but it was too late to change that.
Jorge slashed at Marco and Marco retreated. He flew in a tight turn and dove at his opponent, so fast that Jorge was surprised. Marco slashed at Jorge’s belly, who bellowed in pain as his flesh was torn open. Black blood dropped onto the leather upholstery of the passenger seat, its smell foul enough to turn Jac’s stomach. She saw it burn through the seat and recognized that it had to be Slayer blood. Jorge breathed a torrent of fire at Marco and she smelled his scales being singed.
Jac tried to review everything she’d learned from Sigmund’s book as she drove, heart thumping. These sparks were the sign of the firestorm. And that had to mean that Marco was Pyr, because only the Pyr had firestorms. Melissa Smith insisted that dragon shifters were of two kinds, Pyr and Slayer, and that the Slayers didn’t count humans among the treasures of the earth.
It certainly would have been consistent with the beliefs of a Slayer for Jorge to have infected humans deliberately with an incurable virus.
So, Marco and Jorge were definitely on opposite sides.
What about the dragons who had hatched on Easter Island? What about the ones fighting over Uluru? Jac peered at the dragons locked in combat. No matter which side they each were on, their battles were pretty evenly matched. Jac had to figure that at least half of them were Slayers.
And she had no way to defend herself from the ones who wanted the world to be rid of her kind.
How exactly did humans kill dragons? Jac bit her lip and drove. Sigmund’s book hadn’t provided a lot of good advice for humans on the hunt, but before Marco had brought her the book, she’d been reading other sources. In medieval times, people had reportedly fed saltpeter to dragons, sometimes packed into cow carcasses, then ignited it to blow up the dragons. Sometimes the dragons had spontaneously combusted, the dragonfire inside them providing a spark to the explosive.
There was something very satisfactory about the prospect of making Jorge explode.
Jac reached over to the glove box and rummaged in it. To her relief, there were three flares there for roadside emergencies. She’d have preferred dynamite, but these just might do it. There was a waterproof can of matches, too. She decided she loved Australian car rental companies.
She’d just grabbed them when she heard a bellow from overhead.
Jorge was descending toward her, talons extended. His mouth was wide open and his expression triumphant. What had happened to Marco?
Jac swerved too hard in her fear and felt the SUV rock on two wheels. She accelerated, not having a lot of choice, and the vehicle started to roll. She heard sounds of battle from overhead, but was busy trying to right the vehicle. There was blood falling like rain, red and black mixed together. Even though she tried to correct it, the SUV was too top-heavy. It began to tumble to one side.
Jac screamed as flames lit all over her body. She had time to wonder how she could be on fire already, just as a dragon snatched her out of the vehicle. A hundred little fires were burning between her body and the dragon’s claws, coaxed to burn brighter by his proximity. Marco! His talons were dark instead of gold, and his grip was protective instead of cruel. He soared into the sky with her captive in his grip as the SUV rolled over twice, then exploded into flames.
“Sorry. Wrong dragon,” she said and heard him growl deep in his chest.
“You can be irritating,” he muttered, but she hoped that was humor in his tone.
Jac had a heartbeat to hope that she was comparatively safe before Marco suddenly lunged forward and groaned. Even more alarmingly, the light of the firestorm dimmed. Jac saw the golden claws latched on to his wings and the blood flowing from Marco’s wounds.
Jorge was attacking!
Dragonfire erupted all around them, Marco’s body shielding Jac from the flames. She smelled his scales burning, though, and felt his shudder of pain. She shoved two of the flares into the top of her jeans, knowing what she had to do.
“Turn fast,” she commanded, and Marco glanced down warily. His eyes lit when he realized what she had and he accelerated slightly. He pivoted suddenly and flew straight at Jorge, who opened his mouth to spew more flames.
Jac fought her fear, aimed and threw the flare right into Jorge’s mouth. At such close proximity, she didn’t figure she could miss, and she didn’t. She saw it tumble down his throat, just before Marco spun and raced high into the sky. She knew he was trying to get them as far away from the result as possible.
There was an explosion behind him and a roar of pain loud enough to make the ground vibrate. Jac glanced back to see Jorge illuminated with the brilliant light of the flare, the bottom of his jaw half gone and his blood dripping. He fell toward the earth and she hoped he was dead.
Actually, she hoped he suffered a lot before he died.
“I have two more,” Jac said and Marco nodded.
“I’ve got no argument with you annoying some different dragons for a change.”
“No, I didn’t think you would.”
Despite his light tone, Marco was still bleeding badly from the roots of his wings. Ignoring his wounds, he flew straight at the other fighting dragons. She wondered whether the firestorm’s heat helped or hindered him. She ran a hand over the scales on his chest and he seemed to shiver.
When he looked down at her, his eyes were bright and his expression so avid that she knew she wasn’t the only one lost in desire. “That’s a distraction I don’t need right now,” he murmured and she nodded.
“I wasn’t sure if it would help.”
She saw him grit his teeth. “It provokes a reaction, a primal need to defend you at any price.”
“To satisfy the firestorm,” she replied, and he nodded once.
Jac exhaled, recognizing the firestorm’s influence on her. She hated dragon shifters. She wanted them all dead. She knew this with every fiber of her being. But the heat of the firestorm was confusing her, muddling her thoughts, feeding her desire and building her conviction that she should make an exception for Marco.
“Careful what you wish for,” she whispered and his eyes narrowed in confusion. “That’s what my father used to say. I always wanted to have kids.” Jac grimaced. “Just not dragon babies.” She heard a growl in Marco’s throat.
“If you plan on denying the firestorm, you’ll go beyond annoying me,” he muttered and Jac almost laughed. He spared her a look that was hot with intent and all dragon, and she shivered in anticipation of him changing her mind.
“First things first,” she whispered, pointing to the other dragons.
Marco nodded and flew more quickly toward them, as if determined to get this task done and return to the firestorm’s allure. Jac gripped her next flare more tightly, knowing she’d have to be ready to take advantage of opportunity.
Was that the promise of the firestorm? An opportunity? Making love with Marco had been great before the firestorm. What would it feel like to be with him now?
Could the firestorm enchant her into forgetting her reservations?
Or was it revealing Marco’s truth to her, the truth she should have recognized already?
Jac didn’t know, but there wasn’t time to think about it now.
* * *
His firestorm.
As much as he’d always hoped to have one, Marco had never expected it to be with a woman sworn to hunt and exterminate dragons. Not only that, but Jac had used the darkfire against Rafferty. She was responsible for injuring the Pyr he most wanted to see alive.
If that wasn’t unpredictable, Marco didn’t know what was.
Was the firestorm the reason why Jac had even been able to fire the crystal? Had the darkfire anticipated her role in his
life?
And what would be her role in his life? She’d been quick to say she didn’t want to bear his son. What would happen if their firestorm wasn’t satisfied? What exactly was his responsibility to her? She was his mate and one of the treasures of the earth. Defending her was his responsibility and seducing her had been a pleasure already. Still, Marco couldn’t forget her views about dragons and wonder at the wisdom of the firestorm.
Or was it darkfire, turning assumptions on their heads, just as it so often did? Once again, he had to wonder about the merit of trusting the unpredictable force that had governed so much of his life.
As Marco flew closer to the other dragons, he saw that three looked exactly like the ones that had hatched on Easter Island, their scales ruby and brass and their tails trailing long crimson plumes. They fought viciously against two other dragons, one with ebony scales edged in orange and the other as brilliant as diamonds edged in silver. He wasn’t surprised that Brandon and Thorolf were here, because he’d sensed their presence earlier.
He had to assume that they knew of his presence, too.
“Which ones are Slayers?” Jac asked.
“The three who look the same, plus Jorge,” Marco said, then roared flames at the closest one. That Slayer turned and they locked claws. Jac caught her breath as the two dragons collided with force and spiraled through the air with claws locked. To his relief, she held on tightly and didn’t seem to be freaking out completely to have such a close view of a dragonfight.
“Nothing like a snack of fresh mate,” the Slayer taunted. “Just when I was feeling a little peckish.”
“She’s all mine,” Marco retorted, feeling a primal urge to claim and possess Jac.
“Not yet she isn’t,” the Slayer retorted. “Oh, there’s nothing like the heat of a firestorm. Give me a bite.”
The Slayer’s eyes flashed as he lunged forward to snap at Marco’s chest.
The firestorm burned brighter and hotter, blazing brilliantly as if echoing Marco’s anger. He was livid that this Slayer meant to threaten Jac, but he had to trust her to seize the moment. They had to work as a team to defeat these foes.