Rox didn't ask for details. It seemed to be important to Niall that she trust him, and she did.
Mostly.
Even if it made zero sense that he didn't want to kill his brother.
She gasped aloud when Niall launched himself directly at Phelan, and the pair locked talons. Rox had a close-up view of a scar on Phelan's belly, one that had healed in a ragged white line. The pair tumbled head over tail, biting and snapping and thrashing.
At least Phelan never touched her--Niall made sure of it.
There was that train rumbling again, which made no damn sense.
Then Phelan reared back and swung his tail in Rox's direction with deadly purpose. Niall moved quickly, evading the blow just before it connected. Phelan missed, the force of his momentum sending him for a tumble through the air. Niall attacked his brother, seizing his damaged tail and spinning his weight. Phelan roared, twisting to snap at Rox. She squeaked and flinched as his powerful teeth moved closer.
But his jaw snapped shut on empty air.
Because Niall suddenly flung Rox into the air behind him.
She saw him pounce on Phelan, ripping his chest and then tossing him in the opposite direction from her. Phelan soared through the air, desperately trying to stop his own fall.
Rox screamed.
Instead of coming after her, Niall went after Phelan.
He seized his brother by the wings and bit into the tendon of Phelan's left shoulder before his brother could twist away. Phelan thrashed in Niall's grip, intent on gaining his freedom if not evading the pain.
Rox was shocked that Niall had abandoned her. What had changed? He had protected her before. Why would he toss her to her death? She looked down at the ground that was approaching far too fast and feared she'd never have the chance to find out.
Then Thorolf snatched her out of the air.
Rox thought she might have a heart attack in her relief.
"Assignment completed," Thorolf said, and hovered with Rox safely in his grasp.
Rox tried to catch her breath as her heart hammered. "What assignment?"
"Niall told me to catch you." Thorolf chuckled. "Gotta listen to my mentor, just like you said."
So, Niall was still ensuring her safety, even as he tried to trick his brother. It couldn't have been easy fighting with her in his grasp, especially now that she saw how hard the two were battling.
But Rox hadn't heard Niall give any command to Thorolf. There had been only that rumbling sound. . . .
Rox knew then that there was more going on than she'd realized and that she had lots of questions for Niall. Just then she saw another dragon appear over the tops of the buildings, one that appeared to have scales made of opal and edged in gold. He was larger and moved with a slow elegance, but Rox had no doubt he was powerful. Which team was he on?
Phelan shook free of Niall's grasp. He took one look at the new arrival, glanced back to Niall and Thorolf, then fled.
Okay, the new arrival was a good dragon.
Niall didn't give chase. He just let Phelan go.
Why? Rox was sure there was a reason, and she intended to find out what it was.
Chapter 6
Phelan returned to the lair of the shadow dragons.
He hated his compulsion to return. He knew Chen would be displeased with the outcome of the battle with Niall, and he doubted the old Slayer would be kind in expressing his dissatisfaction. He certainly had no desire to be fettered with his fellow shadow dragons in darkness again.
The darkness in his mind was much worse than that of Chen's physical prison.
But Chen had the powder that let Phelan escape the mental state of being a shadow dragon. It might not be addictive, but the return of his intellect and initiative was a powerful incentive to doing Chen's will.
Never mind the promise Chen had made him, the one he would fulfill when Phelan succeeded.
Phelan had failed this time, but he wouldn't the next. His thoughts were already clouding, the shadow of limbo descending over his mind. He hated that state of being; he despised being no more than an automaton under the command of another.
Unfortunately, only Chen offered the opportunity for change.
He had a limited amount of time to plead his own case, so he had to make it count. Phelan slipped into the hidden entrance, easing into the cold shadows of the darkness beneath the city even as his mind grew more dull. He hurried through the trapdoor at the back of the apothecary shop, hoping he would find the old Slayer there.
Chen was waiting for him in the little room beneath the apothecary shop, the one he used as an office. He was clearly annoyed. "You failed," was the sum of his greeting.
"I tried! I will try again. I will do whatever . . ."
"And a most unfortunate moment for a failure," Chen said, and Phelan braced himself for the worst. The Slayer was in the form of a young man, dressed in jeans and leather, a look most evocative of his nature.
Or maybe not.
"I'll try again." Phelan felt coherence slipping away, along with his power to think for himself. His words fell in panicked haste. "You promised. . . ."
"Promised?" Chen repeated, his tone arch. He spun to face Phelan and folded his arms across his chest. "I promised nothing. I never promise anything." His voice dropped. "I said I would try."
"And I will try. Please!"
Chen turned to the window, appearing to listen to the rain. "There are other Pyr coming. The window of opportunity is closing." There was unusual urgency in his tone. "Do you understand what I am saying?"
"Another chance!"
Chen moved quickly, crossing the room in a blink of an eye and seizing Phelan by the throat. "Time is running out," he muttered, then repeated a rhyme.When the Dragon's Tail turns in the sky,
When the year of tiger rises high,
The Phoenix and the Dragon mate,
Desire does their child create.
But at this junction the old charm,
Can be performed to make great harm.
Elements four in union do conjure,
The chance to invoke the fifth's measure.
Master the four, command the thoughts
of all Gaia's populace.
The verse startled Phelan, who had never heard it before. He had a hard time making sense of it, given the dulling of his faculties, but he understood it was important. Chen changed to his female form with astonishing speed, those red-painted fingernails digging sharply into Phelan's throat.
"I will try again," Phelan managed to whisper.
"I have waited centuries for this junction," Chen insisted. "I will not live to see it again, and I will not watch you waste it." He tightened his grip and leaned closer. "I am the last of the Lung wang, the last of the Dragon Kings, and this is my opportunity to secure my stewardship of the earth." His grip tightened. "I chose you for a reason. Do you intend to disappoint me?"
"No! No!" Phelan heard his tone turn pleading. "I'll succeed next time. I was only surprised."
"No. You were outwitted." Chen cast Phelan aside with surprising strength and paced the room again. The cloud of oblivion began to settle more resolutely over Phelan's mind and he tried once more to bargain.
His words, though, came out as gibberish. He fell to his knees, gabbing like a fool, and reached out one hand in entreaty.
More powder.
Another chance.
Chen turned to watch him, a smile playing over those red lips. "I shall think about giving you another chance," he murmured; then Phelan felt the iron fetter close around his ankle.
He moaned as the darkness claimed him fully, felt the chill air of the shadow dragon's dungeon, then knew nothing beyond the resonance of the command Magnus had planted in his thoughts so long ago.
"Kill. Kill. Kill."
It was the stuff of nightmares, but once the shadow claimed him, Phelan knew nothing else.
"I don't understand it," Ginger murmured as she heard Delaney come into the kitchen from the barn. She sat in fr
ont of the computer, in the office off the kitchen of the Ohio farmhouse she shared with Delaney, and glared at the screen. It was late.
Ginger held their seven-month-old son, Liam, in the crook of her left arm as he slept. The amber and silver ring on her left hand was a reminder of the vows Ginger and Delaney had exchanged before Liam's birth. The amber shone as if lit with a fire of its own.
"What don't you understand?" Delaney asked. He leaned over her, stroked the baby's cheek, then bent to kiss Ginger just below her ear.
She shivered with pleasure. The firestorm might be sated, but the man still had the ability to make her heart pound. "Erik is ducking my question. It's irritating."
"That's not like Erik," Delaney said, pulling up a chair beside her. He leaned closer and Ginger smelled earth and wind and the scent of his skin. Ginger began to think about things other than spreadsheets. "He's got to be the most direct Pyr I know."
"But no matter how much we work on this genealogy of the Pyr, he refuses to tell me about Gaspar's children. I really could shake him"--Ginger shrugged--"except that he's in Chicago."
Delaney smiled, then sobered. "Wait a minute. Gaspar? Wasn't that one of the original high council members?"
"Right. We worked back as far as Erik could remember, and now are working forward. He gave me the biographical details for the members of the high council that his father established; then we've worked down the centuries from there."
"What are those names in the column on the right?"
"The list of dead Pyr." Ginger frowned. "Well, not all of them. The ones Erik knows were exposed to all four elements within twelve hours of death--"
"Half a solar day," Delaney supplied.
"Aren't included in the list. They just have death dates where they appear in the genealogies."
"So this is a list of the potential shadow dragons," Delaney said.
"Magnus would have had to find their corpses, force the Dragon's Blood Elixir into them, and raise them from the dead," Ginger agreed. "But he sure got around." She scrolled the display so Delaney could see the list of confirmed shadow dragons and he whistled through his teeth.
"At least Niall is getting through them."
"Twenty-one confirmed dead since he took on the quest," Ginger agreed. "I'm trying to correlate the eliminated ones with my list, but we don't always know who they were."
Delaney pointed to the screen. "Quinn had four brothers and you have only three listed as shadow dragons."
"Right. Because the eldest, Jean, was with Quinn's father when they both died. Erik was there and exposed them both to all four elements. We know they're dead for good." She showed him the difference in notations and he nodded.
"But the other three made the potential shadow dragon list."
"Quinn said the three of them were shadow dragons and had attacked him at the end of Donovan's firestorm. Both Quinn and Donovan confirmed that two of them were destroyed then."
"One left," Delaney said, his gaze dancing over the display. "Both Sloane's father and Rafferty's grandfather were turned into shadow dragons, but they were destroyed when Magnus's secret academy was trashed."
Ginger was impressed that Delaney could so casually mention the academy, where he had been imprisoned by Magnus and forced to consume the Dragon's Blood Elixir.
"But not Niall's twin brother, Phelan. He was just injured," Delaney continued. "You sent that list to Niall?"
"I sent him the updated file earlier. He's working through it."
"Mr. Detail, that's what he always called himself. The list looks pretty complete," Delaney said with admiration. "You've even included the Dragon's Teeth Warriors."
"Only what we know about them. I'm hoping Rafferty can corner their commander, who is pretty uncommunicative from what I understand, and learn more."
"At least we know none of them have had a firestorm in the last couple of thousand years," Delaney teased, referring to the fact that those warriors had been snared by a spell for millenia. "That saves on your paperwork."
"The irritating thing is Gaspar's line," she complained. "Erik won't tell me anything beyond Gaspar's name."
"Maybe he doesn't remember."
"I find it hard to believe that Erik forgets much of anything."
Delaney chuckled. "Maybe he has a secret past that he doesn't want Eileen to know."
Ginger laughed despite herself. "Eileen would have gotten it out of him by now, if that was the case." She frowned at the screen. "Did you know Gaspar?"
Delaney shook his head. "No. And I never heard anything about him. That first council was way before my time."
Ginger pursed her lips. "I think Erik's ignoring me, I'm sure of it even though I don't know why." She highlighted the cell in the spreadsheet and turned it red, putting her question in larger and bolder type.
Then she saved it and sent the file to Erik.
Again.
"Well, he can't miss that," Delaney teased, and she looked up to find him smiling at her. He braced his hands on the chair and leaned over her, his expression so intent that Ginger tingled.
"I've been thinking," Delaney said in a low voice.
"A sure sign of trouble," Ginger teased.
"Maybe Liam needs a brother."
"It's good for siblings to be close in age," Ginger agreed solemnly. "But I don't think anything is going to happen while I'm breast-feeding, hotshot."
"Practice. It can't hurt to practice," Delaney murmured. "Besides, it's too late to keep working." Then he leaned down to capture her lips with his.
Ginger had no complaints about that.
Sara, the Seer of the Pyr, awakened with a start. She was at home, the home she shared with Quinn, the Smith of the Pyr, and she was reassured that he slept beside her still. He had been restless lately, although he didn't want to talk about it.
Sara knew she simply had to wait. He would tell her what troubled him when he felt the time was right.
She wondered whether he suspected she was pregnant again and was protective of her as a result. She, too, was choosing her time to share the news.
But in this moment, Sara's dream was still vivid in her thoughts and she knew she had to record it. She reached for the flashlight, pen, and paper she kept beside the bed and scribbled quickly.The Phoenix sheds her former skin,
Clothes herself to begin again.
Injuries and debts unearned,
Consigned with her hide to fire's burn.
The Dragon loses but one scale,
To keep nigh intact his coat of mail.
But not all things should survive,
And not all burdens help him to thrive.
Can he learn Phoenix's song,
And leave his past where it belongs?
Learn the DreamWalker's dance
And usher in the world's new chance?
Sara frowned at what she had written, recognizing the format of the prophecies of the Pyr. As usual, she couldn't make much sense of the verse.
She wondered at its source. She was the Seer of the Pyr, but these verses always came from outside of her. They could have been missives from another world, the world of the Pyr, which Sara didn't completely understand.
In the past, the Wyvern Sophie had sent Sara the prophecies that linked with the firestorms of the individual Pyr. But there had been no Wyvern since Sophie's death eighteen months before.
The Pyr had speculated that Erik's daughter was the new Wyvern. Zoe had been conceived in Erik and Eileen's firestorm, and as a female Pyr, she should be the Wyvern. She was just a little girl, though--Sara was skeptical as to whether Zoe would have any powers yet even if she was the new Wyvern. Male Pyr, after all, came into their abilities at puberty.
But there were hints of Zoe's identity. Erik had been convinced of Zoe's role from the outset. And Rafferty believed that she had given him a dream. Then there had been the strange exchange between Zoe and Garrett during Delaney's firestorm.
And now Sara had received this dream. Sara couldn't imagin
e where else this verse could have originated.
But why now? The next full eclipse would occur in December. She and Alex and Eileen kept track of such events now, so they wouldn't be surprised with the need to travel. Life was more complicated with toddlers.
Was Zoe still refining her abilities? Had she sent the message too soon? Or was Sara herself learning more about attracting prophecy? Either way, there'd be no firestorm for months. She tucked the verse into the journal she kept at her bedside.
At least she'd know where to find it come December. Sara turned out the flashlight, curled up beside Quinn, and went back to sleep.
Magnus was rudely awakened when the plaid plastic bag was tipped upside down and he was dumped out of it. He landed on a bare wood table, the zipper teeth abrading his skin as he slid past it. Green onions and long beans scattered all around him, and he was outraged by the indignity of his situation.
He was not groceries.
He immediately looked around for the old Chinese man who had snatched him up in his iron grip.
Magnus was in a small room, a room containing little other than that wooden table. It was dank and cold, like an old cellar. An embossed and foil-stamped calendar on the wall proclaimed 2010 to be the year of the tiger. Beyond that, the room was austere.
But a massive red dragon filled the space, his tail curled across the floor and a wisp of steam rising from his nostril. The dragon's lacquer red scales with their gold edgings told Magnus his identity.
"Chen!" Magnus murmured. Chen had been one of the last to sip of the Elixir, a young man Magnus had encountered in Beijing. He'd assumed the young angry Slayer to be a gang member, volatile and restless. Such an individual, kept in one's debt, could be useful.
Chen inclined his head in acknowledgment, his small golden horns catching the light. He seemed larger than Magnus remembered, more muscled and powerful. Chen's scales were a richer shade of red, closer to blood than the ruby Magnus recalled, and the gold of his talons glittered dangerously.
They looked to have been sharpened.
Chen's gaze was as steady and as dark as Magnus remembered, the Slayer's thoughts just as difficult to read. Magnus scanned his prison, acknowledged there was more to his captor than he'd initially realized, and felt a frisson of fear.