Immortal Coil (21 page)

Grey frowned. The Handmaiden never wore shoes.
Unless she was leaving Court.
And she hadn’t done that since 1521 when Regis had taken the throne.

“You will need to deliver my book.”

“Your book?”
He glanced at the
grimoire
. He doubted she used it often, not since she’d created Court and had needed to conserve her earth magic by using power words instead of exhausting herself by willing spells into existence. But the incantations within the book, honed over the years, harnessed magic with extraordinary force and in the wrong hands could be used to subjugate dragon-kind completely. However, if she planned to leave Court and feared she wouldn’t return, someone needed to take over the rebirthing ceremonies. But no other dragon had that kind of power. Only a true sorcerer could cast that spell.

“What about the ceremonies? If the souls are left for more than a couple of days without a vessel, even in the medallion while at Court, they’ll lose cohesion and can’t be reborn.”

She raised an eyebrow and more energy flickered over her eyes. “Don’t worry about the ceremonies. They will be taken care of.”

“Yes, Handmaiden.”
Of course she knew the souls could be lost. She’d been the one to discover that, and he doubted she’d forget something so important. “To whom should I deliver the
grimoire
and how soon?”

A wicked smile pulled at her lips and she touched a finger to his forehead. “You’ll figure it out.”

“I— What?”

Energy tingled over his nose and cheeks as she set her spell.

“I see. When the time is right, your spell will activate and tell me who to give it to.”

“You have been reading my journals.”

“It’s the only thing you’ve asked of me.” If only she’d require more of him. Perhaps more purpose to his life could distract him. Flirting was fine, but it didn’t fill the void. Unfortunately, his aura sight couldn’t distinguish between dragons and mages so the
Asar
Nergal
wouldn’t take him. And while he suspected Tobias had a team that reported on the happenings in Court, Grey wasn’t interested in spying on his friends.

“And I ask it of you again,” the Handmaiden said, drawing Grey’s attention back to her. She held out her hands, palms up, and a journal from her secret library materialized on them. It was thick, bound in black leather with
a gold
‘1477’ inscribed on the spine.

“I’ve read that one.” He’d read them all, and because of his so-called magic, could remember the contents of every single one. So soon after her soothing spell, he wouldn’t even need to concentrate as he usually did to recall the details of the book and the risk of losing himself to his memories was slim.

She held out the book. “I know. It will be important soon.”

“How soon?”

A sly smile pulled at her lips. “Read it again.”

Right.
In her own good, mysterious time, just like delivering the
grimoire
.

“It’s the record of dragon involvement leading up to the Spanish Inquisition.” One of her more exciting reads, but having lived through that time and read the book five times already, not something he wanted to revisit any time soon. “My lady, if you require, I can tell you the twentieth letter of the twelfth line on every page.”

She pressed the book into his hands.
“Three hundred and nine.”

The image of the page flashed into his mind unbidden. “N.”

Her smile curled open in full, revealing her teeth in a sexual challenge.

“Would my lady like any of my other services?” She wouldn’t accept. It was just the game they played. But it was still fun to flirt, even if he wished it was
Capri
. Besides, the Handmaiden was still a female. Just because she represented everything that was sacred to dragon-kind didn’t mean she was without mundane desires.

“For now reread the journal and deliver my
grimoire
when the time comes.” She blew him a kiss and withdrew into her chamber.

He sighed.
Right.
Reread one of the many bad times of his life and wait for whatever spell the Handmaiden had put in his head to activate. Until then, he had a body-sharing Hunter to deal with, and the odds were bad the Handmaiden wouldn’t notice. Here was hoping she’d show the same compassion to Hunter she’d shown Grey.

Zenobia
strode up the last step of the sweeping staircase to the balcony overlooking the grove and squeezed the railing beneath her palm. This forgotten cavern on the edge of Court, magically able to sustain vegetation, was the perfect place to build and hide her strike force. Containing a large clearing encircled by shaggy pines and majestic oaks, she’d cut off the only entrance, making it accessible only by an unanchored gate so no one could accidentally stumble upon them. Most days she loved watching the twenty-seven trusted members of her inner circle train the fifty human mages they’d created, but not today. It was proving more difficult than anticipated to acquire the medallion, and now she’d lost
Pearl
and Welkin. Why wouldn’t Hunter just die?

The stone under her fingers cracked. Dust drifted down to the moss-covered floor below. She had to have the medallion. The coup was only days away and without that symbol of power more drakes would oppose her, threatening her success. And she’d seen what Regis did to drakes when their plots against him failed.

Her heart ached and she shoved the thought aside. Now was not the time to wallow. Her lover’s plan had been good. Abduct transients from around the world, particularly those from third world countries who wouldn’t be missed, and find a drake who could
enspell
them to obey commands. Done and done. Then came the risky bit, body-sharing with the humans until they connected with the earth’s magic, because well, she could scrounge the earth looking for a natural human mage, but one hadn’t been seen in two thousand years and body-sharing was faster. Her lover, however, had made the fatal error of body-hopping himself and getting caught before he could finalize his attack. She wouldn’t be so foolish. There was too much riding on this, and as much as the Handmaiden wanted all souls saved, a select few, like Hunter’s, were going to be sacrificed. It was just the cost of doing business.

Kijani
, her Second, and
Howel
gated onto the balcony a few feet from her, framed by the stone arch to the hall behind them.
They were a study in opposites,
Kijani’s
dark skin, short hair, and tall muscular stature, beside
Howel’s
diminutive build, messy brown hair and slightly tanned skin. And while
Howel
stood straight-backed he was missing the age and power that
Kijani
radiated. That, and the still oozing handprint Hunter had seared onto
Howel’s
flesh, eliminated any sense of the young drake’s competence. The fool couldn’t even follow her simple command to call a challenge, and then he had backed down. At least he’d stuck to the plan and looked at Nero instead of her, redirecting any suspicions Hunter might have. Obviously the youngling couldn’t be trusted with anything more complicated than creating human mages for her strike force.

She would never again welcome another unknown drake to her inner circle. Certainly not someone she hadn’t approached herself. She’d only invited two dozen young drakes, those who were the most discontented with
Regis’s
rule, but
Kijani
has vouched for
Howel
and she’d trusted her Second.

“It was rash to challenge Hunter in the feast hall.”

Howel
shifted from one foot to the other. “Yes, Doyen, but I—”

She jerked her chin and
Kijani
nudged
Howel
into the passage behind them. A lesson needed to be taught before he could screw up again.

“
Howel
, do you know where we are?”

The young drake shook his head.

She hissed her power word and with her earth magic drew a pebble from the ceiling. With a flick of her mind, she sent it skittering down the hall into darkness, drawing a moan from within the walls.

Howel’s
Adam’s apple bobbed and his eyes grew wide.

Kijani
had dubbed this passage the Hall of Lament, a place where she imprisoned those she could no longer trust in the granite walls. Since she didn’t have the medallion, she couldn’t have them reborn and while souls would be lost during the coup, they didn’t have to be lost now. Besides, this was so much more effective as an object lesson.

They stopped at an alcove, sarcophagus sized.

“I told you to challenge Hunter.”

“I did.”

“But not in the feast hall.” She hissed her power word again and whipped a tendril of granite around his legs. He squeaked. It echoed down the hall, drawing more moans and cries from those encased in the walls. “And then you rescinded.”

She surged the granite to his waist and shoved him into the alcove, the granite’s movement fluid under her control.

“Doyen, please. I—” He clawed at the rock encasing his lower body. “Please.”

The cries of those imprisoned turned to wails.

She pressed her palm to
Howel’s
sternum, forcing him to lean back. “If I leave you just a crack for air, I’m told you’ll survive for centuries.”

“No, Doyen.” He drew desperate gasps and his chest heaved under her palm. He clawed at her hand, digging rents in her flesh, but as fast as the pain flared, her soul magic healed her.

“Your human body will waste away but your dragon spirit will keep you alive, on the edge of death, in constant agony.” She inched the rock higher.

“No, please! I’m sorry!” Tears streamed down his cheeks.

Mother of All, he was disgusting. No true drake begged. And they certainly didn’t whimper and cry like
Howel
. She yanked the rock away and he collapsed at her feet. “Perhaps you’ll be more use to me making mages... if it doesn’t make you soul sick.”

Howel
babbled hysterically, but she didn’t wait for a response.
Kijani
would see it done if he didn’t want to take
Howel’s
place in the alcove. She strode back to her balcony, the wails grating on her nerves.

Kijani
followed.

Good puppy. She needed his abilities, even if he was a lousy judge of character. But for all of this to work, there was one thing she really needed. “Get me that medallion.”

“With Hunter in Court that will be more difficult,” he said.

She hissed her power word and with a flick of her thoughts jerked the rock under his feet, throwing him back into the Hall of Lament. “I don’t need you to state the
obvious,
I need you to get the medallion.”

“Yes, Doyen.”

“Make sure you use those drakes who’ve recently changed their allegiance so it’s not blatant we’re making a move.”

Kijani
scrambled to his feet and gave a curt nod.

She was so close. Soon she would have the throne and dragon-kind would once again take its rightful place at the top of the food chain.

Wind caressed
Anaea’s
face and the ground slid by far below her. She was flying, her body held aloft by large, leathery wings that caught and adjusted to the air currents. And while she was flesh and bone, weighted and solid, she felt buoyed, supple,
magical
.

In that moment, she realized she was dreaming. The current she’d been riding dissipated and she faltered, dipped, then glided into the next updraft and rose higher and higher until she skimmed the bottom of the clouds.

So what if it was just a dream. It was the most pleasant thing that had happened to her in days, perhaps even months. There was no appeal to waking up, either. Hunter’s people... dragons... whatever, were crazy.
Every single one of them.
No matter how hard Hunter had tried to intellectualize the situation for her, she couldn’t deny the terrifying truth about them. After that dinner she couldn’t get through the rebirth ceremony fast enough. Sure they looked human, but there was nothing human about them. They were predators. Even Hunter’s friend, while nice enough, still gave off the predator vibe.

Even Hunter had darkness about him. And
Anaea
had the feeling he was the most dangerous of them all.

There she went, making assumptions again. She didn’t know anything about Hunter, not really. As much as he’d been forthcoming about what he really was, she still felt he was giving her the watered-down reality of their situation. But perhaps that was a good thing.

Yet even with his memories swirling through her head like a montage of the world’s history of violence, she felt there was something more to him than just a predator. She felt it in her gut and at the back of her mind. It was like a glimmer seen from the corner of her eye that disappeared when she tried to get a better look. If only she could put her finger on what that was.