Erik and Delaney moved quickly to help Thorolf to the one couch, a flurry of old-speak mingled with questions and answers. Niall knew they had to be curious about Rox, but he carried her into her bedroom. Sloane could tend her in some privacy.
Sloane followed Niall, instructing him to put Rox on her stomach on the bed. He cut her T-shirt away, lifting it from her skin to reveal the wound fully. Both he and Niall caught their breath at the sight of Rox's tattoos.
Niall had seen the carpe diem emblazoned on her collarbone and the small heart on her temple. Neither of those had prepared him for the other truths inscribed on her skin.
Because he was standing to one side, he saw the tattoo on Rox's left bicep first. It was a portrait tattoo done in shades of gray. It showed the head and shoulders of two women, who faced each other. The images were so detailed that they could have been photographs. The names Chynna and Suzie were inscribed beneath the portraits. Around the portraits were written the words Sisters of the Heart.
Niall appreciated that Chynna had an important place in Rox's life, perhaps more of one than he'd realized, and wondered who Suzie was.
The importance of both of them to Rox was clear.
Sloane swore softly. Niall realized then the Apothecary was looking at a second magnificent tattoo.
Across Rox's back was a dragon in flight, or at least the detailed outline of one. The dragon was drawn in the Chinese style, coiled and powerful. His tail was at Rox's neck, his body winding from her nape down to the left and back up the right side. Wingless and sinuous, he was horned and had five talons on each claw. Flames were drawn all around his body, the brilliant orange accenting the fact that the dragon scales were only outlined in black. The dragon held a pearl in its front claw, and he snarled up and over Rox's right shoulder.
Niall's first thought was that this dragon was guarding Rox's back.
Not effectively, though, given the injury that marred her skin.
The wound missed the tattoo, slicing from Rox's right shoulder down to her waist. Her skin was puffed and bluish white, the cut silvery as if touched by frost. She was cold, but the wound was frigid, as though generating a chill of its own.
"Worse than I thought." Sloane swore under his breath as the two of them stared and Niall's heart sank. Sloane eased his finger along the cut, exploring its depth. He shook his head and frowned. "Nothing in it. Nothing I can pull out, anyway."
Niall leaned toward Rox and felt the firestorm glimmer between them. Its heat was feeble, which terrified him. The firestorm wasn't satisfied--was it fading because Rox was going to die?
Niall put his hand on Rox's shoulder and the glow became a bit brighter. Niall felt the others come into the room, but he was focused on Rox. The firestorm had no sparks, no flame--just a radiance.
Like that of glowing coals.
Dying coals.
Sloane caught his breath. "Touch the wound," he commanded with quiet force. "There's no time to look it up. Just try."
Niall laid one hand alongside Rox's cut. The firestorm's sparks sputtered weakly and disappeared, as if the flame had been doused.
Frightened, he put his other hand beside the first one, bracketing the cut between his index fingers. Three sparks danced between his hands and Rox's skin for a moment before there were no more. The glow remained, though, and he dared to hope it was brighter.
"Not much, but we'll work with it." Sloane put his hands on top of Niall's and began to chant. Niall heard the Apothecary's song and let it fill his thoughts. He let it drive his intent; he begged it to fulfill his wish.
And when he understood its rhythm, he added his voice to Sloane's. They sang together with force and yearning.
The firestorm responded, kindling a greater heat beneath Niall's hands. There were still no visible flames, but Niall felt as if someone had stirred those coals.
As if they might not die after all.
They needed fuel. Niall slid his hands up and down Rox's skin, trying to coax the toxin from her body, and he sang louder. He let the memory of her kisses fill his thoughts, recalled the vigor of the burning firestorm, and tried to summon her to the bonfire they could make together.
The firestorm sparked, its radiance growing.
Niall knew the moment that Delaney came to stand behind him. He felt the weight of Delaney's hand on his shoulder and when he glanced up, he saw that Delaney had put his other hand on Sloane's shoulder. Delaney added his voice to the chant.
The firestorm's flame erupted beneath Niall's hands. He sang even louder and with more force, determined to bring Rox back from wherever she had gone. He knew there was a shadow in her past, and knew she had triumphed over it before. Phelan's touch must have reopened that old wound, revealing its hidden depths. Niall coaxed the flame with all his heart and soul. He sang Sloane's song of healing and marveled at the power of the crackling firestorm.
Rafferty added his baritone to their chorus, Erik's voice giving their song another voice of strength. Quinn lent his voice to the effort, as well. Niall dared to hope that they could heal his mate, that the firestorm could be rekindled to burn bright enough. Ginger, Eileen, and Sara added the weight of their hands and the force of their wills.
The flames danced beneath his hands, simmering and sizzling, taking on the sensual turn that he associated with the firestorm. The way the influence of his friends helped Rox brought tears to Niall's eyes.
He kept singing, his voice becoming even more urgent.
Sloane changed his song as the wound began to weep a dark fluid. He called to the toxin, summoning it forth, removing it as it revealed its dark shadow. It looked vile, like oil, but had a shimmer like mercury. Delaney's low voice reminded Niall of how Delaney had been able to follow the firestorm's song through the darkness. They worked together until the wound ceased to weep dark fluid.
Then the flames abruptly died.
A white line glowed coldly on Rox's back. She was utterly still, cold, and motionless.
Had she died? Niall felt for her pulse in fear. It was there, slow and feeble, but fluttering at her throat.
"It found an answering shadow within her," Sloane said with disgust. "It found a resonance in her mind."
"What the hell does that mean?" Niall demanded.
"That Rox has an old wound. The shadow found it and fed it."
"But the firestorm should be able to heal it," Niall protested. "It was working so well. . . ."
Sloane put a hand on his shoulder. "It began the process. It removed the taint so that it couldn't spread farther, but it had already taken root."
"But how do we finish what we started? How do we save her?"
"I don't know."
Niall stepped back, dissatisfied with this answer. "That's not good enough!"
"The firestorm brings opportunities we do not expect," Rafferty said. "Think of Pyr and mate becoming more together than the sum of the parts."
Niall was impatient. "Rafferty, I agree completely, but there is no firestorm unless Rox survives."
The older Pyr surveyed Niall. "And who do you think can best heal her wound?"
Niall scanned Rox's still figure and panicked. "But how can it be up to me? I don't know what to do, or how to help her. . . ."
Erik stepped into Niall's field of vision, crouching down beside him. "The firestorm can show us new facets of our abilities, or teach us to expand our talents. I lost my gift of foresight until I learned to rely upon Eileen as a partner."
Niall immediately thought of his own affinity for the element of air. "The wind hasn't been as cooperative lately, but I haven't lost my link with it. Rafferty has said the same about the earth--that it's a sign of distress."
"But there are other possibilities linked to the element of air," Erik said. Zoe came to her father's side, bracing herself on his knee, and smiled up at Niall. He smiled back at her briefly, knowing she didn't understand. "I have foresight as a mark of my affinity." Erik continued. "You can call the wind, but what if you can do more?"
r /> "Like what?" Niall asked. "And how could that heal Rox? She's not even conscious. If something hurt her in the past, how could I even find out about it? How could I heal it?"
Sara came to his other side. "I have a clue for you. I dreamed of a prophecy several nights back. Until Quinn told me about the firestorm, I thought I had just gotten it early." She pulled out a sheet of paper and read what she had written.
Her words immediately caught Niall's attention, dismissing everything else from his thoughts.
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?
"Rox is the Phoenix," Niall said, his gaze darting over her still form. The metaphor helped him understand better why Rox had made the choices she had.
She had decided to leave her past behind and remake herself and her life in the way she chose. Whatever had hurt her had been expelled from her life, and she had chosen to define herself.
With a family of choice.
In contrast, Niall had been burdened by his own past, carrying the guilt of his role in Phelan's death and letting that guilt shape his choices. Because he hadn't struck Phelan down immediately, Rox had been injured.
And only a shadow dragon with no soul or a Slayer who had surrendered his soul could willfully injure a Pyr's destined mate.
Phelan was the first and Chen the second.
There was a point of balance between their two perspectives. The past shaped a person, but the past needed to remain where it belonged. In denying her past, Rox had given it a hidden power. In giving it ascendance, Niall had allowed his to have too much power.
Niall had to help destroy the memory that haunted Rox and now held her captive. He had to help her to take the lesson of that old wound and move forward.
But he had no clue how to do it.
"Does the rest of the verse have meaning for you?" Erik asked, his gaze searching.
Niall nodded. "I know now what I have to do about Phelan," he said, "but I don't know what to do about Rox. How can I help her? How can I heal the wound she has because of my mistake? What's a DreamWalker?"
Before any of the Pyr could answer, Zoe moved quickly, proving that she did understand. Erik jumped and Niall was similarly startled when Zoe's small fingers clutched at his. She eyed him intently, her gaze as vivid and unblinking as that of a hawk, and the wisdom of the Wyvern flooded through Niall.
"Air governs dreams," he whispered. "Can I walk in Rox's dreams? Show me how to stop her nightmare, Zoe. Show me how it's done."
The little girl squeezed her eyes tightly shut. Niall saw Erik holding his daughter fast against his leg and he heard the Pyr collectively hold their breath.
Zoe took Niall's fingers and shoved them into Rox's wound, breaking the skin open again. Niall was momentarily horrified; then he closed his eyes and followed either his instincts or Zoe's instructions. Her ideas merged with his own so clearly that he couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.
In his mind's eye, Niall saw an obsidian ribbon unfurl from the wound and curl deeper. At Zoe's urging, he followed the ribbon of darkness to its root, uncertain what he would find or what he would do when he found its end.
He did precisely what the Wyvern suggested.
There was too much at stake to do otherwise.
Rox is lost in darkness and desolation. She is cold, colder than she's ever been in her life. In every direction, she can see only barren rock. There is no sign of another being, no light, no stars, no hope.
He has fondled her.
He will be back for more.
She has been called a liar by her own mother.
She has run into the night, desperate to find Suzie.
But Suzie is gone, vanished into the world without leaving a trace. In her determination not to be found, Suzie has left no trail for Rox to follow.
Rox is alone and she is cold. She is frightened; frightened to be awake or asleep. She wanders, knowing she'll never get anywhere and wanting only not to be so alone.
When she sees the yellow gleam of a distant fire, she doesn't believe it is real. She is so cold and hungry that she thinks her mind is playing tricks with her.
She heads for it all the same.
The fire becomes brighter and more real with every step she takes. The sight of it gives her strength; it feeds her confidence; it makes her believe she might survive after all. She sees the bonfire's flames lick the night sky with delight and power. She sees it cast sparks into the darkness with joyous abandon. She sees it shed light and heat in every direction, generous and limitless.
She sees it pierce the darkness. She feels it touch her own skin. She feels it banish fear and hopelessness, and she hurries toward it, moving her numb feet as quickly as she can.
The flames burn higher and brighter, as if to urge her on. It's a conflagration, an inferno, a tower of hungry flames. It crackles and snaps before her; it sizzles and flares as if in welcome.
Or acknowledgment. It becomes brighter and hotter, turning from deepest orange to brightest yellow.
She raises her hands to its heat as she steps into the circle of light it casts. It's so warm, so inviting, so perfectly comforting, she keeps walking, walking right into its blaze.
Fearless.
Because nothing can be worse than where she has been.
The flames leap around her as if recognizing an old friend. Rox lets the heat sear her skin, incinerate her fears, destroy her terror. She lets it turn her memories to ash and dust, lets the fire cleanse and purify her. She feels the fire revealing her forgotten strength, kindling new power within her.
Her skin turns red and then gold, changing from flesh to armor. She is gilded and new, remade and reborn. She is strong and young, powerful and liberated. She has resources she never realized.
And she has a future she only needed the audacity to claim. It has been hers all along.
Rox just has to reach out and take it.
As fearlessly as she stepped into the fire.
The flames fade, their heat and vigor diminishing once their task is done. They drop on all sides, turning more orange and red again, burning still but not as ferociously. When they fall beneath her shoulders, Rox expects to see Chynna, the "sister" who took her out of the cold.
She is still afraid to hope for more than that.
But when she sees the man waiting for her, she knows she has every reason to be fearless.
She has a dragon on her side.
Niall stands on the other side of the wall of flames, his lips pulled into a crooked smile. There is admiration in his blue eyes, admiration and respect and desire. This is honest. This is true. This is the opportunity she's been waiting to find. The firelight touches his features with gold, gilding his face and making glints in his blond hair. He is so handsome and sexy, so thoughtful and intelligent, that Rox's heart stops with awe that he wants her.
There can be no doubt when he offers his hand to her. Rox's heart begins to thunder.
Fearless.
She reaches through the last of the flames and dares to put her hand in his. She dares to trust. She dares to take a chance.
And Niall's hand closes possessively over hers. He pulls her closer, drawing her through the flames, and urges her to his side. Rox goes, knowing she will surrender more than a kiss to him and have no regret.
Without a word, he bends and kisses her with that sweet heat that will always curl her toes. This is the future. This is the promise he brings.
Then he lifts his head. He winks and he
turns away from the fire, his hand locked around hers. He guides her away from its blaze. Rox sees the wound on his shoulder and knows he's been hurt where that scale had come off in her hand.
Then Niall shimmers blue. He shifts shape, becoming a magnificent amethyst and platinum dragon. He draws Rox onto his back and smoothly takes flight. The wind lifts her hair and makes her heart sing. The horizon becomes clear as the sun touches its lip. And Niall carries them both away from the desolate shadows that have governed Rox's heart too long.
To their shared future.
To the promise she has dared to claim.
"Her breathing changed," Sloane said, and Niall felt the Apothecary's hand on his shoulder. "That's good."
Niall opened his eyes, the vision fading from his thoughts. He was exhausted and exhilarated, filled with a hope that he had made a difference. Could he be a DreamWalker? Could he do this again, without Zoe's help? He wanted to try.
The wound on Rox's back wasn't inflamed anymore. It had closed neatly and Sloane was easing an unguent over it. Her skin was rosier and her breathing was deeper.
Niall dared to be relieved.
"You're next," Sloane said, and Niall remembered the injury to his own shoulder. "I need to make sure it's clean, so don't give me any back talk."
"Here comes the tough love," Rafferty noted with a smile.
"Well, I've seen the opposite and this is way better," Thorolf said, and Niall guessed he wasn't the only one surprised. "You guys are the closest thing to family I've ever had, and I'm going to prove to you I'm worth the trouble."
At that moment Niall realized that, like Rox and Chynna, he also had a family of choice.
"You already have," Niall said, knowing it was the moment to give the newest recruit some encouragement. "You defended Rox twice, plus you've worked on your beguiling." He addressed the others. "Thorolf committed to giving his training all of his effort, and he's made huge progress in just a day."
The Pyr congratulated Thorolf, each in his own way. Erik gave a nod of approval, warmth in his gaze. Rafferty shook his hand and Sloane gave him a thumbs-up. Delaney gave Thorolf a shoulder bump with his fist and Quinn shook his hand.