The Dragon Legion Collection 9 (2 page)

But the arrivals were in human form now, and he was struck by the similarity of their appearance. They were all dark-haired with dark eyes. They all carried themselves with the impassivity of warriors, and they were all fit. They might have been in uniform, so closely did each one’s choice of khaki garb resemble that of the others.

They could have been one of his own illusions, a single
Pyr
mirrored over and over again to look like a crowd.

One man stepped forward when Lorenzo opened the door to the courtyard, his gaze steely. That he alone moved was evidence that this was no illusion.

There was a bit of silver at this
Pyr’
s temples and determination in the line of his lips. “I am Drake, leader of the Dragon’s Tooth Warriors. We have come, as summoned.”

Lorenzo hadn’t summoned anyone. He spared a glance to the upper window and wasn’t certain whether he saw the blind move.

No. It was a trick of the light.

His father, Salvatore, slept. Hibernated really, his strength fading with every breath.

Aware that his glance might betray his secret, Lorenzo met Drake’s gaze steadily. “I didn’t summon anyone. You’ve made a mistake.” He moved to shut the door, but Drake stepped forward quickly, blocking its path with his booted foot.

“We will have what was promised.”

Annoyance rose within Lorenzo. “I promised you nothing.”

“We will have it.”

It? Lorenzo arched a brow, not troubling to hide his irritation. “You will leave.”

A ghost of a smile touched Drake’s lips. “Not until we have it.” He put out his empty hand, expectant.

Lorenzo knew that Erik was only moments away. He had an illusion to stage for the leader of the
Pyr
and it must go flawlessly. He hated to be distracted before a performance, particularly a challenging one.

He had beguiled Erik before, but wasn’t entirely certain that he could do it again. Erik might have learned something in the interim.

That uncertainty was part of what made the trick interesting.

He didn’t need this interruption.

“I can’t help you,” Lorenzo said flatly, pushing on the door again. “You’ll have to leave.”

Drake stepped across the threshold, his defiance tempting Lorenzo to shift. “We will not leave.” Drake spoke with resolve, and a faint ripple passed through his men. Lorenzo was aware of the glitter of their eyes, the way that they stood at the ready. He was outnumbered, in his own home, which did nothing to dispel his irritation. “We have been summoned and a promise has been made.” Drake stretched out his hand again. “Keep the vow.”

“It wasn’t mine.”

Drake didn’t move or blink. He waited.

Lorenzo heard Erik’s car at the gate. He heard the chime that echoed in the house whenever a vehicle was allowed to enter the compound. He saw the slight flare of Drake’s nostrils.

“Leave,” Lorenzo insisted.

“How timely,” Drake said instead. “I can appeal to the leader of the
Pyr
to take my side. Erik is fond of promises kept.”

“I made you no promise!”

“Promises must be kept.”

“It
wasn’t
my promise.”

Drake held Lorenzo’s gaze, his own unblinking. His warriors had moved when Lorenzo wasn’t looking. They stood at attention in rows just outside the door, their gazes as flinty as that of their leader, closer than they had been before. There was a slight shimmer in the air around them, that pale blue light warning that they hovered on the cusp of change.

Shit. The last thing Lorenzo needed was a fight over a promise he hadn’t made. As he did, Lorenzo was sure Drake heard Erik being ushered into the house, courtesy of his sharp
Pyr
hearing.

Drake didn’t move.

He seemed to smile slightly, as if anticipating triumph.

The sight infuriated Lorenzo. “I must see to my guest.” He gestured to the men in his courtyard, indicating that Drake should rejoin them. “You will wait together until I return.”

Drake held his gaze for a long moment, as if wanting to ascertain whether Lorenzo was lying. If Erik had not been waiting, if he had not needed every bit of his strength, Lorenzo might have tried to beguile the leader of the Dragon’s Tooth Warriors.

Just to find out whether it could be done.

But as it was, he was annoyed and surprised, precisely the way he did not want to be before a performance. Perhaps his irritation showed. Perhaps Drake knew that Lorenzo was more like Erik than he would have liked others to believe. Perhaps Drake recognized that Erik was close enough to aid his cause if necessary.

Because it took only a moment for Drake to incline his head and step back to join his men. He folded his arms across his chest and fixed his stare on the sliding glass door when Lorenzo locked it.

They both knew that Drake could rip it open if he so chose, that he could break into the house and take whatever the hell it was that he thought was owed to him. They were all dragon shape shifters and it was courtesy that made Drake step back, not fear.

Because he wanted something. What?

Who had summoned Drake?

If Lorenzo hadn’t known for a fact that his father was clinging to the last tendrils of life, he would have known where to find the answer.

As it was, he wondered who had set him up.

* * *

An hour later when Lorenzo returned to the courtyard, the angle of the sun had changed.

And the courtyard was empty.

He unlocked the door, just to check. There was no sign of Drake and his men, not even a faint whiff of their peculiar scent in the air.

Even though Drake had been determined to have whatever it was he believed he was owed, he’d left. Had he gotten whatever he’d been promised, or had he changed his mind? Lorenzo couldn’t imagine that Drake surrendered a fight easily. It made no sense.

Unless someone else had summoned Drake.

Unless someone else had given Drake what had been promised.

Lorenzo eyed the window blind on the second floor. He shut and locked the door, then raced up the stairs and strode to the apartment in that corner. It was dark in the luxuriously appointed rooms, dark and still. He stood in the shadows of the doorway and listened to the long slow rhythm of his father’s sleep.

No, Salvatore was still hibernating. Lorenzo’s suspicions melted. His father was only the ghost of what he had been, his vitality having faded abruptly this last century. It was a miracle, truly, that he was still alive. Salvatore couldn’t be roused that quickly these days, was often confused, and took a long time to settle back to sleep again.

Salvatore’s days of making mischief were over.

Lorenzo was honest enough to admit to himself that he missed them.

He left his father’s apartment, still thinking. Drake must have simply given up. It was long odds but not impossible. Even
Pyr
could be less than perfectly predictable.

Lorenzo returned to his plans for the massive spectacle he was planning, vaguely disquieted and distracted.

It hadn’t just been Erik’s visit. It wasn’t just the firestorm burning in the distance. It was the prickle of darkfire. He shook his head, pitying the unfortunate
Pyr
who had been saddled with this particular firestorm and its complications. There couldn’t be a woman alive who was worth as much trouble as darkfire could create.

But what Lorenzo didn’t realize was the extent to which the darkfire would change the world of the
Pyr
. The fact that he even sensed its blue-green flicker meant that it was changing him, as well.

It would be months before he realized that the third darkfire crystal, the one he had kept secured in his hoard for centuries, had vanished without a trace.

Chapter One

Alexander winced when he smelled the darkfire crystal heating.

As the Dragon’s Tooth Warrior with the keenest sense of smell, he always knew the stone was warming, even before the strange light within it began to flicker. Sure enough, his leader Drake lifted the crystal and held it aloft.

That blue-green light flashed within the stone, like lightning trapped in a bottle.

“Yet again,” Drake said beneath his breath. If Alexander hadn’t been
Pyr
, he would not have heard the softly uttered words. “It’s relentless.”

Alexander could only agree. He was exhausted, like all of the others, terrified to wander away or risk sleep so long as they kept guard over the unpredictable stone.

Drake gave Alexander, his second in command, a sharp look. “Find the others.” His eyes filled with a panic that Alexander shared. “
Now!
”

There was no telling how long it would take the stone to work its strange sorcery. Sometimes it shone for hours before anything changed. Sometimes it lit to brilliance in seconds.

But when it flared its most brilliant light, the one that nearly blinded them all, the Dragon’s Tooth Warriors were hurled through space and time.

They would feel the rushing of the wind and feel the sensation of being transported.

And when they opened their eyes, their location would be changed.

It was a strange and unsettling sorcery.

And these warriors had seen their share of sorcery. They’d been beguiled by an ancient viper, enchanted to take the form of dragon’s teeth, trapped for millennia until they’d been set free in a future that defied expectation. Their leader, Drake, had changed his name, perhaps to indicate that he was no longer the
Pyr
he once had been. It was so apt that Alexander didn’t even think of Drake as Stephanos any more.

In contrast, Alexander felt he continued to survive an ordeal, one that only made him yearn more strongly for the wife and son he’d left behind, one that made him more of what he had always been.

The first time the darkfire had worked its magic had been immediately after Drake closed his hand over the stone, at Lorenzo’s home. Since then, it had occurred three more times. Alexander was not even certain where they had been.

The group of
Pyr
had almost immediately realized that only those within some measure of proximity to the crystal were carried along with the company, and this was the cause of their concern. Who knew what had become of the others? Alexander doubted he was the only one haunted by the uncertainty.

With a single shout from Alexander, the other warriors raced closer. Alexander saw his own distrust of the crystal echoed in the wary expressions of his companions.

“Wonder where we’re going this time,” Peter muttered in his usual grim tone. Peter was the oldest of all of them, a ferocious warrior independent of his age. He tended to expect the worst, a perspective the darkfire crystal was unlikely to change.

His view, however, did little to bolster the confidence of the team and Alexander wished he would be more optimistic.

“It’s not as if we have time to look around,” Iggy complained.

“Just make sure everyone is here,” Alexander commanded tersely.

Drake was regarding the stone with undisguised horror. Alexander knew it was because they’d lost five men already, thanks to the darkfire’s unpredictability. It was shocking that there were only twelve of them left, when their original company had numbered in the hundreds. Each curse upon them had taken its toll, but with fewer men, each new loss sickened Alexander. He and Drake had concluded that those men who hadn’t been in the immediate vicinity of the crystal when the light flared had been left behind.

Wherever they had been.

Could they ever be retrieved? Would the stone continue to flash until they were all dispersed? The last transition they’d managed to remain together, but Alexander couldn’t help wondering how long that would last. They were tired and becoming irritable. It was only a matter of time until one fell asleep, or wandered away to relieve himself at the wrong moment.

Alexander swallowed as the light within the crystal pulsed with greater speed, growing brighter with every beat. He felt his pulse accelerate and sensed the heightened awareness of his fellows. He could hear hearts racing, feel perspiration gathering, feel breathing quicken. They all stared fixedly at the stone.

“Here we go again,” Damien muttered. The most handsome of all the soldiers spoke lightly, in his usual manner, but Alexander noted how he licked his lips with trepidation. It was unlike Damien to show any emotion, so Alexander knew he was terrified.

“You just want to find more hearts to break,” Iggy said in a teasing tone. Tall, young and lanky, Iggy was often underestimated in battle, but he was of a lean build with fierce power. Alexander always thought of Iggy as a finely honed steel blade. His manner was playful and he would even banter in battle, which also encouraged opponents to miscalculate his abilities.

“Not a lot of time to break hearts with this stone around,” Ashe said grimly, folding his arms across his chest. Ashe was stocky and practical, the son of a blacksmith.

“That’s why it has to be Damien to do it,” Tyrone retorted. “The rest of us don’t have a chance.” Tyrone was youngest of them all, an orphan who had virtually raised himself. He wasn’t one for emotion or undue optimism—and virtually any optimism was undeserved in his thinking.