Love in the Time of Dragons (13 page)

I hesitated for a moment, remembering Gareth’s words. “They will kill you,” he had warned, but that didn’t make sense, not on an intellectual or an emotional level. The only vibe I was getting from May and Gabriel was one of sympathy and concern.

“Baltic,” I said, licking my lips, my thoughts finally stopping their endless spinning to coalesce into one solid thought. My voice was rough, my lips dry, as if I’d been exposed to the elements for a very long time.

May murmured something and moved over to pour me a drink. It was spicy, very spicy, redolent of cloves and ginger and cinnamon, and it burned as it went down my throat, but it was a good burn. It filled me with energy as it pooled in my belly, allowing me to focus my thoughts.

“What about him?” Gabriel asked.

I took another sip, enjoying the burn. “Is Baltic here? In London?”

Gabriel and May exchanged glances. He said, “He was here the day you collapsed. After that, we believe he returned to Russia.”

“To lick his wounds, most likely,” May added. “He was soundly defeated by Gabriel, Kostya, and Drake. Three of his guards died, and we captured his lieutenant, a woman named Thala.”

“Well, unless I really am going insane, I think he’s returned. I believe I saw him in Green Park.” I explained about seeing the two men, and the vision that followed, although I left out specific details. “There’s just one thing that confuses me—the man I saw in the park does not look like the man I’ve seen in my dreams. If it’s Baltic I’ve really been dreaming about, then he couldn’t be the man in the park.”

“Yes, he could,” Gabriel said slowly, getting to his feet. “I think something happened when Baltic was reborn. I think it changed his appearance, both dragon and human.”

“He was reborn?” I asked.

“Of course—you don’t know. Or rather, you don’t remember,” Gabriel said. “Baltic was killed three hundred years ago.”

Well, that was a bit of a kicker. “Who killed him?”

“His right-hand man. Kostya Fekete.”

“Kostya?” I gaped at him, truly gaped. “Tall, black hair and eyes, little cleft in his chin, square jaw—that Kostya?”

“Yes. You’ve seen him?”

“In my dreams, yes, but he is Baltic’s friend.”

“Was. He
was
Baltic’s friend,” Gabriel said. “The day came when Kostya realized that Baltic’s mad plan to rule the septs was destroying the black dragons, and he put an end to it by killing Baltic, but not before the damage was done. The black dragons were all but exterminated.”

“By who?” I asked, my voice a whisper.

“Constantine Norka, the wyvern of the silver dragons.”

I slumped back, my brain reeling. It was just too much to take in, especially since I realized with a shock that, cling as I might to the idea that I was insane, I was beginning to believe that they could all be right, and I really was a freak of nature, a dragon trapped in a human body.

How sad is it that insanity was preferable to that?

Three hours later I sat surrounded by dragons. Evidently a
sárkány
was a big deal, being held in a large conference room of a very chic hotel, and attended by a number of people who looked perfectly ordinary. A long center table that would seat about twenty dominated the room, while chairs lined the walls. A podium stood at one end of the room, and at the other end a huge white screen was lowered, indicating there was going to be some sort of visual display.

I let my gaze wander around the clumps of approximately thirty people standing and chatting. Without exception, the expressions turned toward me were hostile. Tired of that, I looked at my neighbor to the right. “How long do these things usually last?”

“Depends,” Jim said.

“On what?”

“Whether or not your boyfriend starts mowing everyone down like he did in Paris.”

I shook my head, not sure if I should goggle at him, blink my eyes in surprise, or do the “water on a duck’s back” thing and let it all roll off me. “I think I’ll go with ‘roll off me,’ ” I told Jim.

“Really? Like roll in the hay? With someone else, or with Baltic?”

“Baltic tried to kill people at a
sárkány
?” I asked, taking a firm grip on myself. I had decided that I would not go insane. Brom needed me, especially now that I knew what a bastard his father really was, and I couldn’t take care of him if I was locked away, drawing pictures on the padded walls using only my own drool.

“Yeah, a while back. I wasn’t there because Aisling was about to pop with the spawns, but I heard it was a real Wild West shoot-out. Until May exploded the dragon shard and blew up the top floor of the hotel.”

I let that, too, roll off. In fact, I would have just sat back and closed my eyes in an attempt to let everything and everyone roll off my back, but a woman was approaching us with a glint in her eye.

“Jim, so help me, if you’re bothering poor Ysolde—” the woman said as she stopped in front of us, her hands on her hips.

“Hey, I’m just sittin’ here partaking in polite chitchat, being my usual Mr. Helpful self. Right, Soldy?”

“The name is Ysolde,” I said stiffly, then realized what I’d said. “No, it’s Tully! Tully! My name is Tully, not Ysolde. Oh dear god, now you people have me doing it!”

“This is Aisling, my demon lord. She had twin spawns the day you keeled over in her house,” Jim told me as Aisling clucked her tongue sympathetically at my outburst.

“You’re a demon lord?” I asked, finding it hard to reconcile the image of the pretty woman with curly brown hair and hazel eyes, and a being who commanded demons.

“Yup. May says you don’t remember anything, not that we met, but still, that has to be a serious pain in the butt. I’m married to Drake. He’s the wyvern of the green dragons. That’s him, over there, the good-looking one.”

I looked to where she was pointing. Several men were clustered together at the far end of the room. I hated to say anything because they all looked pretty darn good to me, but a vague sense of recognition twinged in the back of my head when my gaze reached a tall man with dark hair. “And are you a dragon, too?” I asked Aisling.

May entered the room just as she laughed. “Oh, lord no. I was as human as they come before I met Drake. I was a courier, and we met when he stole the aquamanile I was taking to Paris. It was very romantic.”

Jim choked, coughing and hacking as if he’d swallowed a hairball. “Romantic!” it finally said. “Man, if you knew what sort of hell she put us through while she was deciding to hook up with Drake—”

“Silence, furry demon.” She smiled at May as she joined us. “It was almost as romantic as May and Gabriel’s courtship.”

May rolled her eyes. “What courtship? One minute I was myself, the next Gabriel was there demanding I be his mate. Not that I minded, but still. Oh, there’s Cy. That means Kostya won’t be very far away. Excuse me a minute.”

“I forgot for a minute she was a doppelganger,” I said as May crossed the room to join the woman who’d just entered. Although they were dressed differently, and the other woman’s hair was longer, it was clear they were identical twins.

“Cyrene is more or less the mate to Kostya,” Aisling said. “It’s kind of confusing, really, but basically, he’s accepted her as his mate, but she isn’t technically a wyvern’s mate, if you get my drift.”

“I don’t think I do, no.”

“Well, as I understand it, it means that she is his mate in the eyes of the weyr, but can’t be taken by another wyvern.”

“Kidnapped, you mean?” I asked, confused how that could have bearing on anything.

“No, taken as in challenged for. Say if Bastian—he’s the handsome blond on the right—if he wanted Cy as his mate, he couldn’t challenge Kostya for her, because she’s not technically a wyvern’s mate. Whereas he could challenge Drake for me, or Gabriel for May, because we are mates. Does that make sense?”

“Only if it means that there is some bizarre rule to this world that says one man can steal someone else’s wife. Er . . . mate.”

“Archaic, huh?” Aisling asked with a little shrug. “That’s the dragons for you—they look hip and modern and may have lusts for all things technological, like Drake, but deep down, they’re still in the fourteenth century.”

“You mates should unionize,” Jim suggested, wiping a tendril of drool on the empty chair next to it. “Mates Local 51. Make a new rule prohibiting mate swapping, and go on a sex strike if they refuse to negotiate.”

Aisling looked at her demon with a startled expression. “That’s not a bad idea,” she said.

“Really?” Jim sat up a little straighter. “Can I watch when you tell Drake that you’re not going to let him chase you naked through the house anymore?”

“You were supposed to be asleep!” Aisling said, leaning across me to pinch the demon on its shoulder. “You did not see us! You couldn’t have!”

“Let me tell you, the sight of nursing boobies flopping all around while you tear through the house isn’t something I’m going to forget anytime soon,” Jim added, leaning away from me so Aisling couldn’t reach it again.

“That’s it! From now on, I’m locking you into the bathroom at night!”

“You’re just lucky Drake didn’t put an eye out with his gigantic—”

“Silence!” Aisling roared, and all of the occupants of the room turned to look.

She smiled at everyone before turning a look on Jim that would have scared a couple of years off my life. “Ignore Jim, please,” she added. “It has moments of derangement. Oh, look, there’s Chuan Ren and Jian. Chuan Ren is the red wyvern. Those are her bodyguards with her, although I don’t see her mate, Li. Jian is her adopted son. I’ll take you over and introduce you. She hates me, so it’s always fun to say hi.”

Aisling spoke cheerfully enough as we strolled over to the newest arrivals, a group of four people, all Asian, three men and one woman. The woman had long, straight black hair, and a figure that belonged on a runway. Two of the men were rather short but powerfully built; the third was tall and also would have been perfectly at home as a model.

“Hello, Chuan Ren. Hi, Jian, nice to see you again. Hi, Sying and Shing. This is—”

“Ysolde de Bouchier,” the woman named Chuan Ren said, her gaze locked onto mine. “So, you are not dead as they said you were. Too bad.”

She turned on her heel and marched off, her two guards in tow.

“She’s in a good mood today, I see,” Aisling said to the remaining red dragon.

He made a face. “Chuan Ren has had a trying time the last few weeks. Her mate, Li, has disappeared.”

“Oh no! I’m sorry to hear that, although he obviously can’t be dead or we’d know it,” Aisling said, glancing at Chuan Ren.

“How would you know?” I asked.

“Wyverns can’t survive the loss of their mates,” she said simply before waving at the blond she’d called Bastian. “I’d better see what the latest gossip is about Fiat before things start. Ysolde, it was a pleasure to meet you at last. If you need any help with things, let me know. I know how hard it is trying to come to grips with some of the dragon lore.”

She left us, and after another moment of polite chat with Jian, I was about to return to my chair when I turned and saw a man standing in the doorway staring at me, his eyes burning with black heat.

“Kostya,” I said, the word a whisper on my lips.

He nodded slowly, stalking toward me. “It’s true. They said it was, but I didn’t see how it could be possible. I saw your body. I saw your severed head.”

I touched my neck, horror crawling up my skin at his words.

“I . . . I really don’t know what to say to someone who tells me he saw my severed head,” I admitted. “ ‘Hi’ seems a little bit of an anticlimax.”

I swore he was going to bare his teeth at me, but he managed to stop. “A miracle has happened, Ysolde de Bouchier.”

“Tully Sullivan. I’m thinking of having it tattooed on my forehead.”

“A miracle has happened, and now the time has come for you to pay in like coin for all the deaths, for all the suffering.”

“Punky! There you are!” May’s twin appeared at Kostya’s side, alternating glances between me and him. “Hi, I’m Cyrene. You must be Ysolde. May’s told me all about you. I don’t blame you one bit for losing your memory. I would have, too, if I’d had to be mated to Baltic.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” I said, unable to break Kostya’s gaze.

He leaned forward, his voice low. “If there is any justice in the world, you will suffer as long as the black dragons have suffered.”

“Kostya, I thought Drake said you weren’t supposed to scare Ysolde,” Cyrene scolded, taking his arm and tugging him toward the big table. “Ignore him. He’s a bit grumpy because we ran out of his favorite cereal for breakfast.”

He stopped glaring at me and transferred his glare to her. “You did not just tell her that! For the love of the saints, woman, I am a wyvern! You do not tell people I’m grumpy over breakfast foods!”

“If someone makes a fuss about not having Cap’n Crunch, then that someone is just going to have to take his lumps,” she said, blithely unaware of his furious gaze. “Come on, I think they’re waiting for us.”

Kostya turned without another word and stomped over to the table, Cyrene at his side. I returned to my chair and watched with interest as the wyverns gathered around the table. There were only five chairs there, and before they sat, Gabriel, Drake, and Kostya all made a point of retrieving a chair and placing it next to theirs. The guards and the other dragons in attendance all took up spots on the chairs lining the wall.

Jim gave me a poignant look, but bound to silence as it was, it said nothing. I was grateful for that, since it meant I could try to sort through my mental turmoil while the dragons went through the formalities of their meeting.

“Kostya Fekete,” the blue wyvern named Bastian said. “You have called this
sárkány
on behalf of the black dragons. State your business.”

I looked up from where I’d been sightlessly staring at my hands.