Firestorm Forever: A Dragonfire Novel

  And hope for the best. It was only a matter of time until the Slayer regained his strength sufficiently to manifest outside the fridge. The Elixir would work steadily, although the Slayer’s healing would be slowed by the cold. Thorolf had said that the Slayer’s gut had been blown open in the battle, but even in the course of the flight to California, that wound had closed.

  Sloane felt the need for time he didn’t have. He should be testing the Slayer, exploring his nature, but trying to cure Ronnie was taking all of his time.

  Because the antidote hadn’t worked as well as he’d planned. Sloane reviewed all of his research and his tests, repeating many of them in the lab, seeking the detail he’d missed. He wasn’t finding it, but exhaustion didn’t help.

  There had been a firestorm sparked in Australia, and Erik was growling about new videos of the dragonfight appearing online. Sloane couldn’t have cared less. Melissa had plenty to say about her competition, that reporter Maeve O’Neill, the one determined to paint dragons in a bad light. Sloane wasn’t quite at the point of agreeing with her, but he was less enamored of his fellows in this moment than was usually the case.

  He wanted Sam, but she was gone.

  He had no right to want her, not when she wasn’t his mate.

  He’d ground his teeth in frustration just as Melissa screamed from the great room. Sloane swore, abandoning his test in a fury. It was impossible to achieve anything under such conditions! He raged through the containment barriers, wanting his house back.

  “He abducted Rafferty!” Erik roared.

  Sloane took a breath as he strode into the great room and discerned Marco’s scent, then guessed what had happened. The dragonsmoke barrier around the house hadn’t been disturbed and for the first time in a while, there was no blue-green glimmer of darkfire. The crystal was gone, as well as Rafferty.

  “It was Marco,” Melissa said. She was standing where Rafferty had been and Isabelle was hugging her tightly. “I saw him. He was standing right here, and he reached for the crystal. As soon as he touched it, Rafferty changed to a salamander. Marco took both and disappeared.”

  Sloane took another deep breath, discerning a heat in the residue from Marco’s appearance. “It is his firestorm.”

  “And he hasn’t satisfied it,” Erik snapped. He paced the room with agitation, then flung out a hand. “His mate wasn’t with him, which means he’s left her undefended when there are Slayers on the hunt! Maybe he can’t satisfy it because he’s turned Slayer.”

  “Wouldn’t the firestorm extinguish itself then?” Sloane asked.

  “I don’t know!” Erik said and paced in his frustration.

  “Jorge might have her,” Eileen said. “The video showed both of them being snatched by Jorge.”

  Erik grimaced at that. “The notion that he’s free of Jorge but left her trapped isn’t very reassuring.” He ran a hand over his hair. “He asked for the Elixir in old-speak.”

  “He could have erred,” Drake contributed in old-speak, evidence that he was listening, as well. The Pyr exchanged glances, and Sloane knew that Drake wouldn’t welcome any discussion of mates kept captive by Jorge.

  “Why would Marco take the crystal?” Erik demanded of no one in particular.

  “Maybe he knows more than we do,” Sloane said. “Maybe he needed the crystal as much as Rafferty did.”

  Erik grimaced. “I’m having a hard time believing in his good will.”

  “Because you didn’t see him that day,” Sloane retorted. “Marco was devastated that Rafferty had been injured. I’m glad he isn’t denying the darkfire any longer.”

  “Even though his mate is the one who injured Rafferty?” Melissa asked.

  “What’s this?” Sloane asked, and saw that the features of the others were set.

  “Brandon emailed pictures of the notebook they found in the mate’s hotel room,” Eileen contributed. Erik went to his computer and pulled up the files, then displayed them on the large television screen on the wall.

  Sloane felt cold at the pictures of Pyr in action, clearly taken from different videos. There were organized into pages, with images of the same Pyr grouped together, and notes made alongside. His heart leapt at the sight of his own page.

  Then it stopped cold at the red X through Rafferty’s image.

  “She’s a dragon hunter,” Erik said with quiet heat. “It’s happening again, just the way it did before. People are turning on us. Humans shouldn’t be able to defeat us, but with one of our own helping a dragon hunter, there’s no telling what she can accomplish. Thorolf said she took down that Slayer in your fridge, with a road flare.” He sighed. “We can’t risk her survival.”

  Sloane was horrified by the suggestion. “Wait a minute! Humans are the treasures of the earth! We can’t hunt one down, especially one who’s the mate of a Pyr.”

  “We don’t know that Marco will stay Pyr.”

  “We don’t know that any of us will stay Pyr, although we hope as much,” Sloane argued.

  “He’s having a firestorm,” Quinn pointed out. “Slayers don’t have them.”

  “That only means he hadn’t turned Slayer when the firestorm sparked,” Erik said. “I don’t think we can make any assumptions.”

  Sloane shook his head. “I’m not abandoning my trust in the firestorm.”

  “It’s not the firestorm I distrust,” Erik argued. “It’s Marco. The darkfire is known to invert everything. Why couldn’t it invert the goodness of the firestorm?”

  “I don’t believe it,” Sloane said, seeing that Quinn’s eyes had narrowed in consideration of this idea. “The firestorm heals. I won’t accept that it could ever wound.”

  “Could the darkfire change the rules so that Slayers could have a firestorm?” Quinn asked.

  Sloane shook his head, but Erik seemed to be considering the possibility. “There’s no way to be sure,” Erik said, then frowned. “I must ask you all to abandon Marco’s firestorm, at least until we know his intentions toward the rest of us.”

  “You’re kidding me,” Sloane protested. “He’s Pyr! He’s having a firestorm!”

  “He injured Rafferty. His mate aspires to kill dragons. Marco abducted Rafferty. He stole the darkfire crystal,” Erik retorted. “Until we know we can trust him, we don’t dare go to his firestorm.”

  “He might use its power as a lure,” Quinn said, doubt in his tone.

  Sloane shook his head, incredulous that his fellows could even doubt the power of the firestorm that much. “Rafferty might have chosen to go with him,” he suggested. “You know how he feels about firestorms.”

  Melissa bit her lip but Erik flipped through the images of the mate’s book, ignoring Sloane’s words. “There was a prophecy in her notebook, as well.”

  “Is it legitimate?” Eileen asked.

  “That depends upon its source,” Erik said.

  Sara stepped forward and read the verse aloud when it was displayed on the screen.

  “Three blood moons mark the debt come due

  Will the Pyr triumph or be hunted anew?

  Three eclipses will awaken the spark

  In thirteen monsters breeding in dark.

  Three times the firestorm will spark

  Before darkfire fades into the dark.

  Firestorm, mate or blood sacrifice

  None or all can be the darkfire’s price.

  When the Dragon’s Tail has turned its bore

  And darkfire dies forevermore

  Will the Pyr be left to rule with might

  Or disappear into past’s twilight?”

  “It certainly sounds like a Pyr prophecy,” she said.

  “But where would she have gotten it?” Quinn asked.

  “Maybe she’s a Seer, too,” Sara said.

  “No.” Erik shook his head. “It must be fake or stolen.”

  “Marco could have given it to her to help in the hunt,” Melissa said.

  Sloane ignored the skepticism of his guests and read the verse again, seeking
meaning in its cryptic words. “There must be thirteen of these Slayers who look like Boris in total,” he said. “Which leaves six more to be hatched on the third eclipse.”

  “Wherever it’s going to be,” Eileen said.

  “The darkfire’s going to be extinguished,” Sloane said. “But it has a price first.”

  “Firestorm, mate or blood sacrifice,” Drake repeated from the other room. He continued in old-speak, probably to project his words farther. “It could be said that the mate was the price in my firestorm.”

  So, Drake knew that Ronnie’s cure wasn’t complete. Sloane closed his eyes in relief, glad he didn’t have to tell Drake that truth. He could hear the undercurrent of despair in Drake’s tone, though, and his determination to save Ronnie redoubled.

  “Was Rafferty supposed to be the blood sacrifice?” Melissa asked in a small voice and Eileen took her hand.

  “Maybe Marco is sacrificing his firestorm,” Sara said.

  “Given the options, it might be tempting to try,” Quinn said.

  “There’s nothing saying the blood sacrifice has to be the Pyr or mate in question,” Erik said firmly. “I don’t think we should trust Marco or his mate until he provides an accounting of his choices. We need to find Rafferty before it’s too late. I’ll have Donovan help us to hunt down Marco, wherever he’s gone…”

  “I think we have to trust Marco,” Sloane interjected. “I think that the darkfire is testing us.”

  Erik pivoted slowly to face him, his opinion of Sloane’s dissent clear. “I am the leader of the Pyr,” he said softly.

  “And I am the Apothecary. I’m starting to think it’s my task to heal the world, and you’re not helping.”

  “Trusting Marco could be dangerous!”

  “Not trusting him could be more so.” Sloane gestured to his fellows. “Maybe this lack of faith in what we should know to be true is what will shape the future of the Pyr. Maybe we need to heal our own doubts to save our kind.”

  “Maybe the darkfire is twisting your thoughts,” Erik countered.

  Was the darkfire causing dissent between the Pyr? Was his desire to challenge Erik another manifestation of that unpredictable force? Or was the darkfire demanding that Sloane discard his preconceptions to fulfill his destined role? Sloane knew with sudden conviction what he had to do.

  “Then we agree to disagree,” Erik said quietly. His eyes were glittering with determination, but Sloane was sure he was wrong.

  “We’re going to disagree more,” Sloane said, his decision made. “I need help to complete Ronnie’s cure.”

  “We’re all willing to assist however we can,” Erik began, but Sloane shook his head.

  “I need a scientist to help me, someone who knows more about human physiology and immune systems than I do.” He held Erik’s gaze. “I know the exact one, but soliciting her help means revealing the truth of my nature to her.”

  Erik inhaled sharply. “You have sworn the Covenant and I forbid…”

  “I will reveal myself, and per the terms of the Covenant, I’m informing you of my intention,” Sloane said with resolve.

  Erik was hovering on the cusp of change, his displeasure clear. “You will not betray the rest of us.”

  Sloane shook his head. “No, not if you leave.” He shrugged, not flinching from Erik’s reaction. “If you’re here when she arrives and she sees you, you’ll be revealing yourself.”

  There was a long silence, as Sloane and Erik stared unblinkingly at each other. The air was charged with tension, then Quinn took a minute step toward Erik.

  “I will remain,” Drake said. “My future is bonded to that of the Apothecary.”

  “We’ll head north in the morning,” Quinn said. “It’s time for the boys to be home again.”

  “Lorenzo has requested my counsel,” Erik said stiffly. “We, too, will leave in the morning.”

  And it was done. The price would be higher than their departure and Sloane knew it. He didn’t doubt that it would take him time to regain Erik’s trust. On the other hand, he was encouraged that his home would be his own again. Not much had changed, but his mood was vastly better.

  Because he’d see Sam soon. He could only hope she accepted his invitation and could then accept his nature.

  Sloane had a definite sense the darkfire was on his side.

  He didn’t know how to contact Sam, except through her lawyer, but fortunately he had other resources at the tips of his talons.

  He was pulling out his phone when Drake bellowed in pain.

  * * *

  Jac went back to Seattle and her empty apartment, for lack of any better choices. She figured there was no reason to hide—in fact, it probably wasn’t even possible to hide from Slayers during the firestorm. There was a faint sensation of heat at the end of her fingertips, even though Marco wasn’t in the vicinity, and Jac was pretty sure that Slayers and Pyr would be even more keenly aware of it than she was.

  It wasn’t the most reassuring feeling in the world.

  She was angry with Sam, too, although in hindsight, she shouldn’t have expected anything different. Sam never wanted to take a chance on looking foolish, much less on being wrong. Jac wished a little too late that she’d kept the Dracontias.

  What was going to happen now?

  She went through Sigmund’s book again, but couldn’t find anything about not satisfying the firestorm. Surrendering to its power didn’t seem to be optional, and Jac could understand that. It was an overwhelming power in itself, and a Pyr with the firestorm on his side in a seductive mood might not be possible to resist. Jac knew she was only thinking straight because Marco was at a distance.

  She wondered where he’d gone and what he was going to do. She had no doubt he’d be back. She guessed that he was doing something that he believed would convince her to satisfy the firestorm. As much as she appreciated that he wasn’t using physical sensation to undermine her decision, she missed him and his presence.

  It seemed the firestorm could do its work even without a Pyr in the vicinity.

  As she always did when faced with a decision, Jac made a chart. The first column was satisfying the firestorm, and she divided it in two. In the plus section, she noted that she’d know how it felt, and that there would probably be tremendous pleasure. In the negative section, she noted that she would conceive Marco’s son according to the Pyr’s stories and that son would become a dragon shifter at puberty. She added to the positive part Marco’s resolve to stay with her after the firestorm was satisfied, then added to the negative part that his kind might be exterminated in six months.

  If the Pyr lost the war, then the Slayers would be the survivors. Jac added an item to the negative section that she’d be carrying a Pyr son in a world with only Slayers. She wondered how that would work: would her son be simply human, or would Slayers destroy him before he had a chance to grow up? She suspected the second option, and knew that she’d let herself be killed in her child’s defense.

  She thought of Sam and didn’t want to have that kind of loss in common with her sister.

  The second column was not surrendering to the firestorm. Some of the entries were easy, because they were the opposite of the ones in the first column. She wouldn’t conceive a son who was Pyr. She wouldn’t face the possibility of being left alone to defend herself and that son against Slayers. She wouldn’t know the pleasure of the firestorm.

  Jac considered the list and added a negative to the second column. It might not even be possible to resist the firestorm forever. Would it burn until the next eclipse, or for the rest of her life? Or for the rest of Marco’s life? Jac didn’t know.

  She put her list on the fridge with some magnets and kept circling back to it. In an ideal universe, she would have denied the firestorm until the eclipse in September, until she knew for sure whether Marco and the Pyr would triumph and survive. Then, maybe, if she came to know and trust him, maybe even to love him, she’d agree to satisfy the firestorm.

  The proble
m was that Jac had never been good at resisting temptation, and six months was a long time. If Marco was near her, the firestorm would feed her desire and practically drive her crazy with need. She didn’t even know where he was and she couldn’t sleep. If he stayed away from her, he couldn’t defend her from Slayers, which was far from ideal. In terms of her personal security, satisfying the firestorm might make the most sense.

  But the baby. Jac couldn’t willingly conceive a son who might not ever know his father.

  Never mind one destined to die young at the talons of Slayers if his father was gone.

  It was two days after Jac made her list that she had an idea. She was in bed, on her back, staring at the star stickers she’d brought from Atlanta and put on the ceiling here. A couple of them were dangling from a point or two, their adhesive having been compromised in the move. Sigmund’s book was on her belly.

  Sigmund said that the firestorm’s heat drew Pyr and Slayers like moths to the flame. What if she and Marco used the firestorm to change the prospects of the Pyr’s victory? What if they deliberately attracted Slayers, so Marco could take them out? What if they created the future Jac wanted for their son?

  She gasped at the perfection of the idea and sat straight up in bed, just as golden heat suffused her body. She caught her breath as sparks emanated from her skin and nearly moaned at her need for Marco’s touch. She closed her eyes and swallowed, knowing that he was close, then swung her legs out of bed. She was wearing just a short cotton nightgown and wanted to peel it off, but was glad she didn’t.

  Marco appeared in a flash of blue-green light at the foot of her bed. He smiled at her, giving her an appreciative glance, then held out his hand. The darkfire crystal sat on his palm, the flame so bright inside it that the room was illuminated with its blue-green light. Jac reached for it, then stopped.