Serpent''s Kiss

  He was impressed.

  And more than a little spooked.

  * * *

  Rafferty didn’t expect Erik to be pleased that he’d been defiant. He was prepared for the annoyance of the leader of the Pyr when he returned to Chicago. Rafferty deliberately traveled in the form of a salamander, because he found the nausea less debilitating that way. His back hurt where Thorolf had burned his dragon scales and his chest was torn in a way that wouldn’t heal quickly. Worse, he was troubled by what he’d learned. He manifested in the middle of the glass coffee table, not really caring who saw him.

  He was among friends, after all.

  He immediately realized that he was among more friends than he had anticipated. Erik was pacing the floor of the loft, the strain of the past two years still clear on his features. It smelled as if his partner, Eileen, was making yet another pot of strong coffee in the kitchen. Rafferty’s mate, Melissa, was perched on the edge of one of the black leather sofas and gave a little gasp of relief when he appeared. He shifted shape and moved to sit wearily beside her on the couch. She took his hand in hers and squeezed his fingers tightly as he closed his eyes for a moment. Then she pressed a glass of water into his hands, knowing what he needed after such a journey.

  “You’re hurt!” Sloane said with dismay. The Apothecary of the Pyr had arrived during Rafferty’s absence.

  Melissa swore and pushed open his shirt.

  Sloane knelt before Rafferty to examine the wound. He looked careworn and older than he had before, but then the plague in Seattle showed no signs of abating. It was spreading slowly, thanks to the efforts of medical authorities and the help of the Dragon’s Tooth Warriors, but Seattle had been devastated by the illness, and it was still spreading.

  Worse, the Pyr knew the infection had been the result of the darkfire crystal sending the Dragon Legion into the past. Sloane had been working day and night to isolate the contagion and its source, but had only determined that it was both a resistant virus.

  An antidote was elusive.

  “I’ll heal,” Rafferty said. “You have more important riddles to solve.”

  “You’ll heal faster if I tend the wound,” Sloane replied. “Take off that shirt and let me see the whole thing.”

  Rafferty did as instructed, knowing there was no point in arguing, especially as Sloane was right. He heard the other Pyr’s sharp intake of breath when his wounds were revealed and could practically smell Erik’s disapproval. Melissa’s grip tightened on his hand, and she helped Sloane apply one of his salves.

  “Thorolf did this to you?” Erik demanded tightly.

  “He didn’t recognize me.”

  Erik swore and began to pace again.

  “It wasn’t his fault.” Rafferty expected argument, but instead there was only silence. Maybe Erik was giving him time to collect himself. Rafferty could almost feel his skin healing in real time, thanks to Sloane’s concoction, and he sighed in relief. He closed his eyes as the Apothecary and his mate rubbed the cream over his skin, glad to be safely within the dragonsmoke perimeter boundary of Erik’s lair. He smelled the cup of coffee Eileen brought him, as well as the pair of shortbread she’d put alongside.

  “Thank you,” he said with a smile, knowing the combination would revive him as much as the healing unguent. He thanked Sloane and tugged on his shirt again, then sat on the couch beside Melissa. He felt better already.

  If still troubled.

  “You need to rest,” Melissa scolded gently.

  “Not before I tell everyone what I’ve seen.” It was dark outside the windows, as it had been when he’d left. The eclipse had occurred just before two in the morning Chicago time and in the mid-afternoon in Bangkok. It appeared that Rafferty hadn’t been gone very much time at all, although he was exhausted. It was still snowing in Chicago, the relentless constant snow that had plagued the northern hemisphere for three winters now, and he could feel the cold pressing against the window. He was aware of the girls still sleeping soundly in Zoë’s bedroom. Zöe was Erik and Eileen’s daughter and should be the new Wyvern. Isabelle, the girl he and Melissa had adopted, was slightly older than Zöe but the girls got along well.

  Rafferty turned the black and white glass ring on his finger, needing the reassurance of touching it, as he so often did after such an ordeal. He supposed it was because the ring was the last thing remaining of Sophie, the former Wyvern, and Nikolas, the Dragon’s Tooth Warrior who had loved her. The ring had been made of a white dragon and a black one, twisted together for all eternity after they made the supreme sacrifice for their kind. Whenever he spontaneously manifested, Rafferty was reminded that this skill was usually reserved for the Wyvern among the Pyr and hoped he used the gift as responsibly as Sophie had used hers.

  Slayers like Chen had stolen this power of the Wyverns, with the Dragon’s Blood Elixir.

  Rafferty took a restorative sip of coffee then cleared his throat, intending to report. Erik was still glaring at him, which wasn’t a surprise. He respected that Erik had a heavy burden of responsibility, but also had learned more of the challenge before them while in Thorolf’s presence—even if he had been there in direct defiance of the leader of the Pyr’s command. He prepared to explain, but Erik gave him no chance to speak.

  “Save your breath,” Erik said sharply, then bent over his laptop computer. He tapped the keys and the widescreen television on the wall came to life. “We’ve seen it all already.”

  Rafferty’s heart sank to see that, once again, Thorolf had been captured on video while shifting shape. Yet again, the other Pyr was the star of a YouTube video that was gaining likes and views with record speed. He winced as Thorolf breathed a volley of dragonfire at him in the video and felt again his dismay when Thorolf threw the challenge coin. It was strange to see himself recorded, but that, too, had happened before.

  No wonder Erik looked so grim. Rafferty knew that the leader of the Pyr was haunted by the memory of their kind being hunted to near-extinction in the Middle Ages and always was troubled when humans saw any of the Pyr in dragon form. It was proof that they existed.

  That Thorolf had been filmed in the act of shifting the first time was the main reason Erik had been so disgusted with him. Rafferty remembered only too well that incident had been during his own firestorm, which only strengthened his determination to support Thorolf during his.

  “A challenge coin,” Sloane said, shaking his head. “An invitation to fight to the death.”

  “I thought my eyes were deceiving me the first time I saw it,” Eileen said.

  “He didn’t know what he was doing,” Rafferty protested again.

  “But he injured you all the same,” Erik pointed out.

  “He could have killed you all the same,” Melissa added.

  “It’s not his fault!” Rafferty insisted again, but Erik was launching on a tirade.

  “Even knowing the danger, you had to go to him,” the leader of the Pyr said. “I commanded you to stay here. I forbade you to go to Thorolf’s firestorm, but you went anyway.”

  “He came to my firestorm, even with the darkfire burning,” Rafferty felt obliged to remind him. “He stood by me.”

  “This isn’t the same!” Erik was pacing even more quickly than he usually did. “He’s been missing for almost two years, and it wasn’t just because he was indulging himself.” Erik flung out his hands. “Thorolf was completely gone.”

  “Even you couldn’t sense him?” Sloane asked in surprise and Erik shook his head.

  “Gone.” He snapped his fingers. “Like a snuffed candle.”

  “Hidden,” Sloane guessed, his manner thoughtful.

  “Captured,” Rafferty ventured.

  “By whom?” Erik demanded before Rafferty could continue. “I see all of you, no matter where you are.”

  “Can you sense Thorolf now?” Rafferty asked, curious.

  Erik started to say something, probably to reply in the affirmative, but he stopped. “No. What happened to him?”
/>
  Interesting. “He’s with his mate,” Rafferty mused, trying to make sense of it.

  That did put a new spin on the problem. Who exactly was Chandra—or what was she?

  “Do you know where he was?” Erik demanded.

  “He must have been abducted and enchanted,” Rafferty said. The others stared at him. “He doesn’t remember, but something has been done to him. He has a new tattoo, one that’s all over his body and burns.”

  “If he doesn’t remember, it was done against his will,” Sloane said.

  “Chen,” Melissa said with heat. “He’s after Thorolf again.”

  “He said he still needed a Pyr with an affinity for air,” Erik said.

  “He can disguise his scent,” Sloane agreed. “Maybe he can veil the scent of others in his captivity.”

  Rafferty shuddered at that prospect.

  “Look at Thorolf’s scales,” Sloane said as Erik started the video again. Thorolf’s scales in his dragon form, which were usually the color of moonstones mounted in silver, looked tarnished. Rafferty was reminded of clouded old mirrors, their silver peeling from behind the glass. He’d noticed it at the time, but appreciated being able to have a better look while not defending himself.

  “Chen’s turned him Slayer.” Sloane sounded defeated.

  Rafferty heaved a sigh. “He was fighting me because he smelled Slayer.”

  “He thought you were the Slayer?” Eileen demanded, her tone incredulous.

  Rafferty nodded.

  “Yet the Pyr are particularly perceptive. That’s really dark magic at work,” Melissa said softly.

  Erik sat down hard, sparing Eileen a thin smile for the cup of coffee she offered him.

  “It’s not your fault,” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

  “You’re wrong,” Erik said with some gentleness. “It’s completely my fault. I was frustrated with Thorolf and despaired of ever getting him to assume his legacy. I tried to push him by taking a hard stance and that was the wrong choice. In the end, I failed Thorolf and now he’s lost to us.”

  “Are you sure he’s lost?” Melissa asked. “Can’t we help him?”

  Erik fixed her with a glare and bit off his words. “He’s bait.” Rafferty winced at the term. “Chen has released him to lure the rest of us into a trap. He expects us to go to Thorolf, to try to help him, which was why I forbade Rafferty to go.” His eyes flashed. “You saw what came of that.”

  “Because Chen would only have released Thorolf if he couldn’t be saved,” Sloane concluded softly. “It is a trap.”

  “And we’re supposed to watch him be destroyed, without being able to do anything about it, unless we sacrifice ourselves,” Erik said. “It’s brilliant, if evil.” Their leader’s discouraged mood settled over all of them, the room falling into silence as the video looped again.

  Rafferty finished his coffee and put the cup aside. “But what about the firestorm?” he asked. “Thorolf can’t be Slayer if he’s having a firestorm.”

  “It could be a feint or a spell,” Sloane suggested.

  Rafferty shook his head. “I felt the heat and saw the sparks. I found him because of it. It’s as real as any firestorm.”

  “Maybe Chen wasn’t counting on the firestorm and its healing power,” Eileen said, looking hopeful. “Maybe he miscalculated.”

  “I’d like to believe that.” Erik got up to stare out the window. Rafferty thought he heard him mutter something but he didn’t understand it.

  What was “Fimbulvetr”? Or had he heard wrong?

  “But he’s with her and is lost to Erik again,” Rafferty said, unable to understand that.

  Erik sighed. “There will be four total eclipses over the next year and a half. The one in September 2015 marks the end of the Dragon’s Tail. You understand what that means, don’t you? Either the Slayers will finally and irrevocably be defeated and destroyed…”

  “Or we will be,” Sloane concluded.

  “In a year and a half,” Eileen said softly.

  “We’ve been winning!” Melissa insisted, but Erik shook his head.

  “Which is why Chen would make such a bold play. Capture a Pyr, enchant him, turn him Slayer and release him to draw us close in a futile effort to save him. For all we know, he faked the firestorm.”

  Rafferty winced.

  Erik’s disgust was clear. “Chen knows we’ll support a firestorm at any cost.” He shook his head. “I can’t let this tactic succeed. I failed Thorolf, but failing the rest of you won’t fix anything.”

  “Is he really Slayer?” Sloane demanded of Rafferty. “Has his scent changed?”

  “It’s not consistent,” Rafferty replied. “It was darker when I arrived, more necrotic, but it changed while I was with him.”

  “If Chen had Thorolf, could he have escaped?” Melissa asked.

  Rafferty was dismayed to find himself wondering if Erik was right about Thorolf being deliberately released by Chen. “Maybe he needs us to be healed,” he suggested.

  “Maybe we can’t risk that.” Erik shook his head wearily. “We’re besieged on every front,” he continued with quiet force. “These past two years, we have battled earthquakes, tsunamis, tornadoes and flooding. We have tried to avert disaster all over the planet as Gaia avenges herself on mankind.”

  “With the encouragement of Chen’s spells,” Eileen added.

  “Yet we can’t find him because his scent is hidden,” Erik continued. “We certainly can’t rout him from his sanctuary, and that means we can’t defeat him.” He frowned. “We don’t know the old magic Chen has mastered, and even in their diminished numbers, the Slayers are doing much to imperil the survival of humans. Even with the addition of the Dragon Legion and the power of the elemental witches, we can’t be everywhere and solve everything.”

  “I’ve got to find a way to stop that plague,” Sloane murmured. “If it’s the last thing I do and the only legacy of the Pyr.”

  Rafferty was startled to find any Pyr talking as if their demise was near.

  Melissa leaned forward. “Look, I’ve told you before that the door is open for another television special. That show with Rafferty had phenomenal ratings, so we’d have carte blanche. We could explain the Pyr’s role in society…”

  “We will not reveal ourselves any more than we have!” Erik said, interrupting her. “I refuse to repeat the past!”

  Rafferty cleared his throat and took Melissa’s hand in his own. “I think there’s merit in the idea.”

  Erik looked at each of them, his eyes snapping with irritation. “I don’t want to risk any more Pyr.”

  “Then what do we do for Thorolf?” Sloane asked.

  “We stay away,” Erik said.

  “We go to him,” Rafferty said simultaneously.

  “It’s a trap,” Erik snapped. “I won’t risk it.”

  “I will!” Rafferty retorted.

  A pale blue light began to shimmer around Erik’s body. “You won’t defy me again!”

  Rafferty wasn’t daunted. He was just as determined as Erik, and he, too, stood up. “I will serve the firestorm, as I always have served the firestorm.” He saw the blue shimmering light surrounding his own body, a hint that he was also hovering on the cusp of change. He knew this could devolve to a dragon fight but he didn’t care. He would even battle the leader of the Pyr over this, an issue he saw as fundamental, not only to Thorolf’s survival but to that of all the Pyr.

  If they divided forces now, it could only lead to disaster. The air crackled between the two old dragons, each as convinced of his view as the other—and equally determined to hold his ground.

  “It’s Thorolf’s only chance,” Rafferty insisted. “It might be ours.”

  Erik shook his head, his eyes snapping. “No firestorm could destroy magic like this. No mortal woman could bring enough power…”

  “She’s not a mortal woman,” Rafferty said, interrupting Erik in a breach of Pyr protocol. The others fell silent in astonishment. “I don’t
know what she is, but she’s not human.”

  “She could be a trick,” Erik said.

  “She could be his salvation,” Rafferty replied, choosing to believe.

  The two older Pyr eyed each other, then Erik’s lips tightened. Rafferty didn’t know whether to expect a command or a concession. Erik turned away and marched to the window, bracing his hands on the frame as he stared out into the flying snow.

  “So, we vote,” the leader of the Pyr declared.

  “No. It can’t be a binding vote,” Rafferty protested to the obvious surprise of the others. “I’ll go either way, even if I go to him alone.”

  Erik turned to consider him coolly, dragon in his gaze. “You would defy me again,” he said softly.

  “I believe that if we lose Thorolf, we will lose the Dragon’s Tail War,” Rafferty declared, his heart in his words. “And I’m not prepared to surrender everything as easily as that.”

  Erik bowed his head for a moment and Rafferty saw there was more silver mingled in his dark hair than ever before. He felt a bit sorry for his old friend, given this unwelcome burden of responsibility, but that didn’t change his mind.

  “So be it,” Erik said. “There will be no vote. The leadership is simply yours, Rafferty. Since my counsel and experience is not of interest, do as you will.”

  Then the former leader of the Pyr strode from the room, leaving them all in astonished silence as he retreated to the sanctuary of his hoard.

  Rafferty took a deep breath and squeezed Melissa’s hand. “Make the deal for the show,” he said softly. “We’re going public. I have a feeling we’re going to need all the positive publicity we can get.”

  Chapter Five

  Thorolf was surrounded by blood, bathing in blood, swimming in blood. He feared he would drown in blood. The scent of it filled his nostrils and blurred his vision. It was warm and wet, pulsing around him. He heard a sound like the beating of a drum, echoing all around him, pounding into his own body. He felt safe, which made no sense.

  He’d been flung off his feet and onto his back. His grip loosened on the skull and it rolled away, disappearing into the heaving red that surrounded him. He might have been in a satin bag or some kind of red-walled funhouse, one that shifted and changed constantly. He tried to stand up again even as his bloody world heaved. A ripple slid through the surface beneath him and he was shoved forward.