Darkfire Kiss

  “I have seen the repercussions from our being revealed,” Erik insisted, his arms folded across his chest. “I have survived the mania among humans for hunting and slaughtering our kind once before, and I will not let it happen again.” Erik pointed at Rafferty. “You will tell her nothing more!”

  “But that’s the whole point of darkfire, isn’t it?” Melissa replied, her tone cool. “What’s the biggest upset that could happen? That you could be revealed. And it’s happened already. Okay, that can’t be changed. What can be made of it? What advantage can you gain from it?” She leaned across the table to confront Erik. “If you tell the truth to the world, they’ll be on your side.”

  “Erik, that hunting happened a long time ago,” Eileen suggested softly. “The world is a different place.”

  “It is less different from what you imagine,” he retorted. “Surely you do not take this view, as well?”

  Eileen also held his gaze without apology. Rafferty saw how much this shook Erik, and he recognized that his old friend was under tremendous duress.

  What else had occurred?

  “I have said I will tell Melissa about the darkfire,” Rafferty reminded Erik quietly. “I will keep my word.”

  “Regardless of the cost?”

  Rafferty nodded. Erik pivoted and leveled a look at Rafferty that was all-glittering dragon fury.

  “Because she might be right,” Rafferty added in old-speak.

  Erik’s nostrils flared ever so slightly, and Rafferty thought he saw a puff of smoke. Then the leader of the Pyr excused himself and left the kitchen, marching up the stairs to the bedroom he always occupied when he was visiting.

  “I will not participate in such folly,” Erik said in oldspeak just before slamming the door of that room.

  Rafferty knew that Erik would be able to hear their conversation even at that distance; he was merely making a point.

  “Well.” Eileen cleared her throat, her gaze falling on Zoë. “I don’t see any harm in answering your question about Zoë. There should be only one female Pyr at any given time, and she should be a prophetess.”

  “Among other things,” Rafferty added.

  “Should be?” Melissa asked, once again homing in on the most important words. Rafferty once again admired his mate’s intellect and perceptiveness.

  Eileen shrugged. “The thing is that Zoë is just a little girl.”

  “She hasn’t come into her powers yet?” Melissa asked.

  “Or maybe she doesn’t have any,” Eileen replied. “Maybe the prophecy is wrong, and she’s just a little girl.” She calmly ate her toast even as Rafferty stared at her in shock.

  Zoë had given him a dream before. Were those fledgling powers gone before they had fully blossomed? How could this be?

  He guessed the answer immediately.

  “Since she began to talk, she doesn’t respond to old-speak,” Erik confided in old-speak. “And I have sensed no dreams coming from her these past two months.” He sighed, and Rafferty heard his old friend’s exhaustion. “All goes awry, Rafferty. Mind you don’t join the tide.”

  Rafferty looked down at the toddler, who was on the verge of sleep. She leaned against him, snuggling close as her hand fell to the tabletop. The orange segment in her grasp dropped, and Rafferty let it fall to the floor rather than disturb her. Her lids were drooping, and Eileen held up a pair of crossed fingers.

  Zoë’s grip loosened on his ring, the ring she had always liked, and she put her fist in her mouth as she fell asleep. His hope died as she slumbered, and he knew she would provide no guidance to him in this moment.

  Worse, Rafferty had a terrible sense that Zoë’s burgeoning abilities were another sacrifice to the darkfire. That was the variable that made his choice. He had to stop the darkfire before the Pyr lost everything they held dear.

  And that meant confiding fully in Melissa, whatever the cost might ultimately be. The darkfire would accept no half measures until it was satisfied.

  Rafferty knew what he had to do.

  Eileen yawned and stood up. She smiled at Melissa. “I’m sorry, but I’m dead on my feet. I think Erik has the right idea. We’ll all make more sense after some sleep.” She came around the table, reaching to lift Zoë from Rafferty’s lap. The toddler yawned and fussed a bit at the transition, then nestled against Eileen’s shoulder and slept again. “You’re not getting any lighter, are you?” Eileen murmured, then waved her fingertips at Rafferty and Melissa.

  In a way, Rafferty was glad to be alone with his mate. He studied her, noting the curiosity and intelligence in her eyes, then acknowledged that it felt right to make this confidence. “Let me tell you a story,” he said, and was rewarded by her smile.

  Eileen pivoted in the doorway and stared at him. Rafferty saw her awareness that he was openly defying Erik, and he had no doubt that Erik, too, had heard as much.

  “Ooo, a story. I’m not missing this,” Eileen said, and abruptly sat down at the table again, Zoë in her lap. “Is there more coffee?”

  Chapter 12

  Erik stretched out on the bed without getting undressed. He closed his eyes and welcomed whatever vision the world would bring to him. It took a moment to still his thoughts and slow his pulse. He was exhausted. He was frazzled. He felt pulled in a hundred directions, and he didn’t know the right choice to make.

  He wasn’t sure there was a right choice.

  Erik reached out to the Pyr.

  He found Delaney, watchful at home in Ohio. That Pyr stood guard over his mate and son, vigilant at the farm he had chosen to make his home. Erik understood that Delaney would not come to the firestorm. He had a confidence that Rafferty would not need any aid in satisfactorily concluding his firestorm.

  Erik believed and feared the same thing. Rafferty, of all of them, would surrender the most to the lure of the firestorm. Would he betray them all in pursuit of his mate’s affection?

  That Delaney didn’t imagine his presence being necessary was a change. Did that strange blue-green firestorm give the Pyr unwarranted confidence?

  Did it threaten their chances of success? Erik was coming to fear as much, but he sought the other Pyr.

  He found Donovan, somewhere in the west of England. That he was traveling west surprised Erik, although Donovan’s purpose was hidden to him. He still could sense that Pyr’s resolve, knew that Alex and Nick were with him, and wondered at Donovan’s destination. At least Donovan was close. He could be summoned if Rafferty needed him.

  But would Donovan come? Erik wasn’t as sure as he once would have been.

  He found Quinn, still and determined. The fire burned bright on the hearth of the home in Michigan that Quinn and Sara shared, and Sara was curled in Quinn’s lap. Their fingers were knotted together over her belly as she dozed in Quinn’s embrace, and Erik felt her shiver despite the blaze of the fire.

  Erik understood. The Seer was pregnant and she was cold. Perhaps she felt the influence of the darkfire. The Smith, though, respected the darkfire enough to be wary of it, especially when his mate carried his second son. Again, Quinn had faith that Rafferty would not need his services to successfully navigate the challenge of the firestorm—and he was determined to not bring Sara close to the darkfire.

  Quinn had chosen, and he would not come to Rafferty’s firestorm. Erik was not reassured, although he understood what it was to be torn between one’s priorities. If Rafferty lost a scale over his mate, would it condemn him? The Smith would not be present to repair Rafferty’s armor, which was a troubling prospect.

  Erik found Niall, annoyed yet again with Thorolf. At least that was familiar. Erik could understand Niall’s reaction well enough, and he trusted Niall to both guard Rox, his mate, and shelter the inexperienced Pyr.

  Erik found Thorolf snoring in the spare bedroom of the apartment Niall and Rox shared. Erik was relieved not to have to worry about that member of his group. The firestorm could spare Niall and Thorolf, if Niall kept Thorolf hidden in the short term.

  Eri
k found Sloane and winced at the heat of the argument that had already erupted between Sloane and Brandt, his cousin. They had fought and injured each other; although both had bled, they had also survived. Erik knew he could have gone himself. He had thought it better to come to Rafferty.

  Now Erik wasn’t sure.

  At least he’d been right that Brandt wouldn’t injure Sloane.

  He felt Brandt’s progress, in his own direction, and he knew his vision of the future had had some merit.

  Erik could not find Lorenzo, which was undoubtedly exactly what the other Pyr wished. Irritation grew in Erik, but he dismissed it, trying to maintain the state in which he could see beyond his own circumstance. If ever he had needed his gift of foresight, this was the moment.

  Of Drake and the Dragon’s Tooth Warriors, there was no sign. Not so much as a shadow. Erik shivered, for he could not explain their disappearance.

  Darkfire burned, tickling at the edge of Erik’s thoughts, incessant and seemingly eternal. It unraveled everything, putting his convictions of how matters should be—and would be—in doubt. The Pyr were scattered and divided, torn between their obligations. They were revealed. They were in peril. Even loyal Rafferty was defying Erik’s council. Erik and Rafferty had disagreed before, but this went deeper.

  And it had only begun. Where would it stop?

  Why had it started? Erik feared that Lorenzo knew far more secrets than even Erik had imagined, just days before.

  That wasn’t good.

  Erik had failed as leader of the Pyr. He effectively led them no longer. With that realization, he guessed one more change the darkfire would make. He had believed he could defeat Brandt, if Brandt chose to fight over the broken blood oath, but now, now Erik gave credence to the vision he’d had in the desert.

  He’d seen himself in the company of the dead.

  In his mind’s eye, the ghost of Sigmund, his lost son, appeared. Erik grimaced at the reminder of yet another of his failures. He’d failed as a father the first time, for Sigmund had turned Slayer. Was Zoë losing her fledgling powers because he was failing her as a father, as well?

  He did not want to join his son in any kind of afterlife. He didn’t want to die. But Erik recalled that he had spoken to his dead son once before in a dream. He dared to hope that Sigmund brought him council.

  Or tidings.

  “The Sleeper stirs,” Sigmund murmured, his old-speak soft.

  “I never knew of him before Lorenzo. I thought it was another trick.”

  “Not a trick but a spell. The spell is the reason you need to find the crystals.” Sigmund had once collected old secrets and myths. He had an intimate understanding of the lore of the Pyr and had gathered more of it than any other.

  Erik trusted his son’s knowledge, but he wanted more. He sat up, casting old-speak at his son, hearing his own urgency. “What crystals?”

  “The Cantor’s crystals. Once there were three, a legacy passed from Cantor to Cantor. One created the Sleeper. One held the darkfire. Who has the third?”

  “But what power does the third crystal possess?”

  Sigmund smiled and shook his head. His figure began to fade away. “Old secrets are the best kind, don’t you think?”

  “No!” Erik cried aloud. “You can’t leave yet!”

  Sigmund continued to fade, quickly becoming no more substantial than a wisp of fog. “But who is the Sleeper?” Erik demanded, feeling that the rules had changed without warning.

  Sigmund didn’t answer.

  He simply disappeared.

  When Sigmund had completely vanished, Erik threw himself back on the bed in dismay. Then he overheard Rafferty’s words from the kitchen.

  “Let me tell you a story,” Rafferty said in the kitchen below, and Erik’s heart sank.

  “No,” he whispered to himself. “Don’t tell her more.”

  “Rafferty promised to keep the Sleeper’s secret,” Sigmund whispered. Erik couldn’t see him anymore, but his words could have been uttered against Erik’s ear. “But darkfire breaks all vows.”

  “But he’s never told me!”

  There was no reply. Erik opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, knowing that Sigmund had left him to his fate knowing that a sea change was in progress. He listened to Rafferty.

  There was little else he could do.

  Did Rafferty know about the three crystals, too?

  Where was the third one?

  And why did it matter?

  Melissa sat with pencil poised, waiting for Rafferty to begin. She hadn’t missed that Rafferty was breaking rank with Erik in telling her anything more. She was pleased and excited that he intended to confide in her.

  But Rafferty had fallen silent, a frown between his brows. “Well?” she prompted, fearing he was changing his mind.

  “I’m trying to decide where to start,” he said with a small smile.

  “At the beginning,” Eileen suggested. “And soon, before I fall asleep.” She grinned. “Not to be pushy or anything.”

  Rafferty nodded. “Yes. I need something to tell this best.” He left then, leaving the women blinking at each other. Melissa heard him go to the library.

  He returned a moment later, holding the same large quartz crystal he’d had in his hand when Melissa had first found him in the library. It was six inches long and a good three inches wide, precisely formed and clear. One end came to a point while the other was ragged, as if it had been broken free of a rocky mooring. It fit perfectly in Rafferty’s hand.

  When Rafferty displayed it on his palm, Melissa saw the blue light still flickering in its core.

  It looked like a spark, a crackling electrical fire, no more than half an inch across. Now, it burned steadily, never dying, and never flaring brighter.

  Why had it blazed so brightly before?

  “Is that darkfire, too?” Eileen breathed.

  Rafferty nodded. “As guardian of the Sleeper, I was entrusted not only with his defense, but with this stone that reflects his state,” he explained. “For centuries, it has shone only a single dot of blue light.” He inclined his head toward Melissa. “This flare first appeared this morning, while you were sleeping.”

  “That’s what you were worried about.”

  He stared at the crystal. “It’s even brighter now.”

  “Because the firestorm still burns?” Eileen asked.

  “I don’t know,” Rafferty admitted. “I do know that it means the Sleeper stirs. It means the rate of his pulse and his breath has changed.” He pursed his lips, pausing for a moment before continuing. “It means he is closer to wakefulness than he has been in centuries, if not wide awake.” His voice dropped low. “My grandfather called him Cysgwr.”

  “Is that his name?” Melissa asked.

  Rafferty shook his head. “It’s his state or maybe his role. It means Sleeper in Welsh, the only language my grandfather spoke.”

  He turned the crystal in his hands, frowning as if lost in memories. Melissa had seen that expression on his face before and guessed the direction of his thoughts. She’d glimpsed before that he was fond of his grandfather. Maybe that made the story hard to tell.

  “Your grandfather gave you the crystal, didn’t he? He entrusted you with the role of guardian of the Sleeper.”

  “No,” Rafferty said, to her surprise. “He tried to give me that task, but I refused him. It was the only argument we ever had, and those words of anger were the last words we exchanged.” He put the crystal down on the table, as if unable to hold it any longer.

  Melissa could understand the burden of having parted badly. She’d been there and done that. She stretched out a finger to touch the crystal and found its surface slightly warm. Eileen was thoughtful as she sipped her coffee and rocked Zoë.

  Rafferty swallowed. “I fear this is the root of everything. It is a keepsake of my pride and my error, and that argument is perhaps the reason the darkfire found me.”

  “What do you mean?” Melissa asked.

  Ra
fferty impaled her with a glance. “You cannot bear a son to me. The firestorm, which I have awaited for so long, is bereft of its purpose, which means that the dark-fire cannot be halted by conventional means. I have to wonder whether this is reparation for my mistake.”

  Melissa wasn’t going to let him blame himself. “Maybe it means you’re the one who can think outside of the box.”

  Eileen smiled. “Who better than the greatest romantic of the Pyr?”

  Melissa was startled by this bit of information about Rafferty. “Really? A romantic?” That Rafferty appeared to be discomfited just added credence to Eileen’s claim.

  Here she’d thought they had a lot in common.

  Including a very basic pragmatism.

  Was it possible that Rafferty wanted more than a sexual relationship? Melissa had assumed their interaction was all about instant gratification.

  But had she only assumed that he shared her view?

  “Absolutely.” Eileen put down her coffee mug. “Rafferty is the one who persuades each of the Pyr to make a permanent relationship with his mate, to go for the long term and to create a rewarding union. Rafferty is our forever Pyr.”

  Melissa pushed back from the table and tried to make a joke. She’d been here and done this, and she wasn’t planning to live it again. Strange to have something in common with Erik.

  She tried to keep her tone light. “Well, then it’s too bad I don’t believe in forever anymore.” She felt flustered beneath Rafferty’s warm gaze.

  “Why not?” he asked quietly.

  “There’s only now. The present is what counts. The future can be torn away in a heartbeat, leaving you with nothing at all.”

  “And the only legacy of merit is the truth?” Rafferty asked with a piercing gaze.

  Melissa nodded. “Absolutely.”

  Rafferty reached over and took Melissa’s hand in his. His grip was warm, his hand large enough to envelop hers. “Firestorms are often about healing,” he said with quiet intensity. “Maybe your view of the future is one more thing the darkfire intends to change.”