Finally!
Viv let herself be moved by the crowd on the sidewalk, ignoring the slow tumble of snowflakes and the chill in the air. She listened, intent on discovering the location of the one who had loosed the darkfire’s flame.
Viv beckoned to the darkfire. She let it awaken all the old words that had lain dormant; she let it flick its tongue against the locked corners of her mind. She let it draw her to its current master.
All the while, she recognized that she would have to watch her back. Darkfire was unpredictable, never fully controlled, always ready to leap in an unanticipated direction. It was unfurled, and there was no telling what would happen. It was fickle, and would abandon the intent of he who commanded it now.
Viv was counting on that.
He was in Asia somewhere. She’d refine the location once she drew closer and was better able to sense the source of the darkfire.
Right here and right now, she had to catch a plane.
Secure in his hidden lair, the Sleeper yawned for the first time in centuries. His eyelids flickered, he stretched, he rolled to his other side, and then he dozed again.
He was content, at least for the moment, to dream.
Chapter 7
Get a grip.
Melissa was in big trouble and struggling not to panic. Being captive in the private helicopter of an arms dealer who could also turn into a dragon was not an ideal situation, not by any accounting.
The pilot, she was pretty sure, was the same guy who had driven the big Mercedes into her car the night before. He wasn’t likely to be inclined to help her escape.
Judging by Montmorency’s smug manner, this particular story wouldn’t end well for her. Rafferty had the little blue leather-bound book, so she had nothing with which to negotiate. Melissa had a feeling Montmorency wouldn’t be tempted by her freshwater pearl earrings. The helicopter rotors were loud enough that she couldn’t ask him any damning questions.
But the worst part was that she didn’t have her camera.
Or even her cell phone. Both were on her desk beside her computer, waaaaaaay down in her town house.
She checked the view, saw that they were soaring over the Potomac, and wondered at their destination. Where did Montmorency like to barbecue his victims? She tried not to think of being on adjacent slabs at the morgue with Daphne, but she shuddered all the same.
Montmorency watched her so closely that even when she wasn’t looking at him, the hairs prickled on the back of her neck.
What exactly did he want from her? Besides her disappearance?
What could she do to save herself?
One thing was for sure—Melissa wasn’t going to look at him again, though, not if she could help it. Those flames in his eyes had been weird, and they had somehow been part of her losing her ability to resist him. They had been responsible for her going with him so meekly in the first place, and were utterly untrustworthy.
How had that happened? What had those flames been about? It must have been some kind of hypnosis. Did Rafferty have that power? If he did, she was pretty sure he hadn’t used it on her. In fact, it was interesting that he hadn’t done so, but had argued with her instead.
Now that she thought about it, he had warned her not to look into Montmorency’s eyes. So, he’d known what to expect, but she’d ignored him.
If she had the chance to do it again, she’d listen to Rafferty.
Were there different kinds of dragon dudes? Rafferty had said he and Montmorency weren’t friends. Did that make them enemies? Rivals? Or just mutually indifferent? They didn’t seem to be that indifferent to each other.
Not that their relationship mattered right here and right now. The better question probably was how she was going to get out of this alive.
Too bad she didn’t have the answer.
A headset appeared in her peripheral vision, and Melissa glanced toward it, seeing that Montmorency was offering it to her. She kept her gaze on his hands. He pointed upward to the rotor, and Melissa had to admit it was a good idea to shelter her ears from the noise.
She took the headset and tugged it on, acting as if she had every right to protect herself against potential hearing loss, as if she had every reason to expect to live to a ripe old age.
Melissa easily recalled being captured with her crew by some fringe group with automatic weapons; she remembered the duct tape and the blindfolds that smelled of dust and the commands shouted in Arabic. She’d kept her cool then and had survived to tell about it. She could do it again.
Maybe.
“You were in my house,” Montmorency said, his words making her jump. He could have had his lips against her ear. There must have been a transmitter in the headset.
Melissa refused to look at him. She stared at the ground beyond the window. They were heading over the river. Arlington, maybe. “Yes,” she admitted.
“You took my book,” he added. His voice was low, not as melodic as it had been, now filled with threat. His tone made Melissa fear for her life, and she supposed that was the point.
It seemed ridiculous to lie, since he knew the truth. Maybe cooperation would make him more amiable.
Maybe not. “Yes,” she agreed.
Montmorency sighed. “So, you know its contents. And that means you must know I can’t simply forget the transgression.”
It wasn’t hard to see where this discussion was headed. Melissa wished she’d had time to read the book. It would have been nice to know precisely why she was doomed, rather than simply suspecting as much.
On the other hand, there wasn’t much about her time with Rafferty she was inclined to forget. If she was going to die, it was good to have made love so wonderfully one last time.
She didn’t want to die, though.
Melissa swallowed and stared out the window. She could see something zooming toward them from the ground, something that shone iridescent beneath the overcast skies.
Like opals.
Edged with gold.
Rafferty! She deliberately hid her reaction, waiting for Montmorency to fill the silence. His hand landed on her wrist at that moment, making it perfectly credible that her pulse would leap in terror.
Still, he spoke in that even tone. “What I need to know is how you even knew of the book’s existence. And its location.”
Melissa shrugged and kept her gaze averted. She could almost feel him willing her to look into his eyes again, but she wasn’t going there. A trickle of perspiration slid down her spine. “Most people keep appointment books,” she said, her tone carefully neutral.
“I am not most people,” Montmorency hissed, so close that she felt his breath on her cheek. “But perhaps you’ve noticed as much.”
She almost glanced his way, almost slipped, but caught herself in time. “No,” she said quietly, “I guess you’re not.”
“Who told you the security codes?” His voice dropped to a low thrum as his hand tightened on her wrist. “You didn’t break into the house, per se. Someone told you how to unlock the door.”
“A lucky guess?”
Montmorency was unpersuaded. “Name the one who betrayed me.”
Something pointed dug into her flesh, and Melissa glanced down at the stab of pain. His hand had changed to a claw, a dragon claw, the long talons piercing her skin.
As she watched, the transformation spread slowly up his arm, his skin shifting from tanned flesh to hide encrusted with jade green scales.
“Tell me!” he commanded, and Melissa glanced up.
She caught herself when her gaze landed on his mouth, on his smile, on the teeth that were changing before her very eyes to sharp predatory dragon teeth.
She snapped her head to look out the window, telling herself that this wasn’t happening, that she wasn’t seeing what she thought she was seeing, that he wasn’t going to eat her alive.
There was no sign of Rafferty.
Had he abandoned her to her fate?
“Tell me!” Montmorency commanded again, his voice
louder. His grip tightened, and she felt the talons dig deeper.
“I guessed!” she declared, just as something slammed the helicopter sideways. The force of impact nearly gave Melissa whiplash, and it threw Montmorency across the cabin.
Served him right for not fastening his seat belt.
Melissa peered out the window, heart hammering with hope. She saw Rafferty, hanging on to the skids far below her in dragon form. The helicopter tilted with his weight, and his opalescent tail swung through the air, scales catching the light. She saw his tail fall, then heard the crack as he struck the boom of the helicopter tail. The helicopter dropped and swerved.
The pilot swore and tried to correct the flight path. The helicopter dipped, not entirely under his control.
Montmorency roared in frustration and shifted shape, which didn’t help. He lunged across the cabin, and the helicopter dipped lower from his sudden move. The pilot muttered a curse as Melissa saw Rafferty’s tail swing high again.
This time, the boom broke. Melissa glimpsed it falling toward the ground as the helicopter began to spin wildly. It also dropped toward the earth, the plunge sickening in its speed. She tucked her head between her knees to keep from puking and crossed her fingers.
She heard the glass shatter as the window beside her was broken from the outside, almost certainly by a massive dragon fist. Yes! Melissa wanted to cheer. Shards scattered over her back and she felt the heat of flames about her back.
It seemed a good time to pray, so she went with her impulse.
Montmorency’s presence was suddenly gone from beside her. One instant he was there, looming large in dragon form and filling the cabin—the next she felt alone behind the pilot.
It was enough to make her look.
In the same instant, the helicopter lurched upward with dizzying speed. It was still spinning. Melissa found the space beside her empty. In fact, she was alone in the cabin, alone with the pilot. But where had Montmorency gone? The opposite window wasn’t broken, and Rafferty filled the one beside her. His weight made the helicopter tip in that direction.
There was a sudden flicker of motion on the floor, and Melissa saw a small jade salamander there. It contrasted with the black carpet, looking like a piece of jewelry. Melissa blinked and it was gone, as surely as if it had never been there.
Then she was snatched from her seat and hauled into the open sky. She panicked and screamed, fearing she knew then where Montmorency had gone.
But that strange blue-green fire danced over her skin. Melissa dared to be relieved. She looked up at the dragon holding her captive in one claw, and smiled.
At least until she saw the fury in Rafferty’s eyes.
“Darkfire!” the pilot breathed, his amazement clear. Melissa guessed that the blue fire was almost as unusual for the dragon men as it was for her.
Rafferty swung his tail and cracked the front window of the helicopter. The pilot shouted as Rafferty breathed a stream of fire that ignited the upholstery inside the helicopter. The pilot might have shifted shape, too—Melissa couldn’t be sure, because Rafferty flung the disabled machine across the sky like a discarded toy.
All the while, he held Melissa fast against his chest, one arm protectively curled around her. That seductive heat rolled through her from the point of contact, making her recall everything they had done together.
And some things they hadn’t tried yet.
The possibilities made her forget Montmorency and his pilot.
Melissa saw the gleaming leather of Rafferty’s wings, and was amazed at how leisurely their beat was, even as he kept them both aloft. She saw the light glimmer on his scales, an armor that might have been made of gemstones. She saw the ferocious edge of his talons and knew he could shred anyone and anything with ease.
But he held her with tenderness.
And this was the second time he had saved her from Montmorency’s rage. She hadn’t even done much to earn his protection.
Melissa decided it was time she learned what motivated him.
Rafferty clearly didn’t agree with her choices, and he didn’t seem to always like her much. But he wasn’t the kind of person who did things for show. No, he’d risked his hide to save her. She’d guess there was a principle at work, and she wanted to know what it was.
It was time to get to the root of this particular story.
Rafferty landed in a park past the cemetery, one that was thick with pine trees and far out of range of other humans. His blood was pumping, and he was enraged with his mate. She had ignored his counsel and put herself in danger. He was even more angry with Magnus for having beguiled her.
He was most furious, however, with himself. Now both Magnus and Balthasar knew not only about the firestorm but also about the darkfire. And it was his own fault. Rafferty had a bad feeling. Where had Magnus gone? It was no good thing that the wily Slayer could spontaneously manifest anywhere at will.
Rafferty had to find him, soon.
He shifted shape quickly within the shelter of those trees, landing on his feet before putting Melissa on the ground. He didn’t know what to say to her, how to begin, how to control the frustration raging inside him. He’d never felt so besieged in his life, so ferocious, so unpredictable. This firestorm was certainly messing with his game.
He saw Melissa shiver and realized the temperature. She wasn’t dressed for it, not in the least. He tugged off his leather jacket and handed it to her, casting a glance at the snowflakes beginning to fall. They were different from the snowflakes of the night before, smaller and harder. There would be a storm—he realized as much from the smell of the wind—and it would be a blizzard of epic proportions.
Better they leave DC now.
Rafferty knew exactly where they’d go.
He could imagine what his mate would say about that.
Maybe it was time for an increment of charm.
Melissa smiled as she tugged his jacket more tightly around her shoulders, clearly surprised by his gesture. “Always a gentleman?” she teased.
“Clearly not,” Rafferty said, his mood easing against the odds. “I try to make up for lost time.”
She laughed. It wasn’t a long laugh and it was a bit high-pitched, but, after what had just happened, she laughed. Rafferty looked at his mate and realized once again there was more to her than met the eye.
“Never let them see you sweat,” she said, a wary twinkle in her eye. “First rule you learn in a hot zone.” She exhaled heavily and shuddered, then nestled into his jacket. “Thanks.”
He extended his hand, palm up, and she looked at it.
“The camera’s on my desk, beside my computer. With my cell phone.” She shrugged, not looking entirely disappointed.
Rafferty remembered as much. “What about Magnus’s camera?”
“He lied. Big surprise.”
She didn’t seem very disappointed in this fact, which intrigued Rafferty. “Not upset you missed your chance to document us further?”
She eyed him for a second, looking vulnerable, then abruptly disguised her thoughts. “What I missed was my chance to get a job.”
She turned away from him, glancing in each direction before she chose the one Rafferty knew would take her most quickly to a road. She was more observant than most. She began to walk, and he followed her. He sensed from her manner that the job wasn’t her real objective.
Then what was?
What had prompted her to take such a risk? He really wanted to know.
“What kind of a job?” he asked, keeping his tone light.
“Reporting. International news.” She kept her gaze averted. “What I used to do.”
“Melissa Smith,” Rafferty mused, realizing only now why she looked familiar. It had been years since she’d been on the news broadcast. “I remember you. You did special reports from Jerusalem and Damascus.”
“Beirut and Baghdad,” she agreed with a nod. “Once upon a time.” She seemed thoughtful.
He remembered also that she
had disappeared suddenly from the newscast. He’d assumed she’d fallen in love, gotten married, started a family. She was young and attractive, after all. He suspected now, though, that that wasn’t her story. He’d seen her home. If she didn’t live there alone, then he was a Slayer.
Rafferty kept his tone neutral, the persistent niggle of the firestorm turning his thoughts in predictable directions. He was aware of the curve of Melissa’s neck, the delicacy of her ears, the femininity of her small hands clutching his coat closed. He was taunted by that damn perfume, his body responding readily to its promise.
He fought to stay on the track of their conversation. “If you wanted to keep doing that, why didn’t you just keep the job you had?”
She shrugged, and he knew she wouldn’t tell him the truth. “Life happened. Things changed.” Her tone turned fierce. “I just want them to change back.”
Rafferty decided to push her a bit. That this woman, with her poise and protective barriers, was so obviously trying to evade his questions, was a hint that he was getting close to an important detail. “So, you broke into Magnus Montmorency’s house and stole from him.”
To his surprise, she smiled easily at him. “I didn’t notice him inviting you in for a coffee.”
“That’s different.”
“How so? You still entered his house without his consent. Looks the same to me. Probably would to a lawyer, too.”
“I didn’t steal anything, though.”
“No, you just trashed his foyer, beat him up, and burned his rug.” She regarded him with humor in her eyes. “You’re not looking so innocent yourself, Mr. Conscience.”
“Rafferty,” he said, realizing his omission. “Rafferty Powell.”
She murmured his name, and Rafferty was stunned by how much he enjoyed hearing her say it.
Then she gave him a hard look. “How is it different, Mr. Powell?”
“Rafferty,” he corrected. “It’s different because Magnus and I have a blood feud.”
She halted in the middle of a group of pines and turned to face him, the scent of the trees tickling Rafferty’s nose. “A blood feud? How medieval is that?” She eyed him when he didn’t answer her. “What exactly does that mean? Are you going to kill him?”