My Wild Irish Dragon (16 page)

Chloe sat across from him, just staring out the window. He couldn't help wondering what she was thinking. They'd never fought a high-rise fire like this before. Nineteenth floor? That meant they could be carrying heavy equipment up nineteen flights of stairs, and possibly carrying bodies down that many—or more, depending on how quickly they could extinguish the flames.

What seemed like a minute later, Lieutenant Streeter was announcing into his radio, “Engine 33 and Ladder 15 are on scene with heavy smoke showing from the upper floors of a high-rise.”

The District Chief took over and said, “Car 4 is on scene and assuming command.”

The dispatcher acknowledged the command info and ended their transmission with, “Ten-four.”

As the firefighters grabbed all the gear they'd need, they glanced up at the fully engulfed apartment on the nineteenth floor. Suddenly another explosion boomed and the windows of the apartment on the twentieth floor blew out.

“Shite!” Chloe yelled and ducked into the building's lobby. She grabbed Ryan's arm and yanked him inside as glass and debris rained down.

The captain barked out orders, but this time they were being told to use the elevator on the other side of the building. Chloe looked up at him with wide eyes.

Lieutenant Streeter announced, “We'll go to the sixteenth floor and walk up from there.” Focusing on Chloe, he continued, “Otherwise it's a long hike up nineteen floors with sixty pounds of gear on plus another fifty or more of equipment.”

Six of them crowded into an elevator with extra SCBA cylinders, and a high-rise pack—folded lengths of hose to attach to the standpipe system of the building. Ryan knew they'd find those in the stairwell. The trick was to get as close as possible to the fire, but not too close. Back drafts were a frighteningly real hazard.

As the doors were closing, Ryan saw people reaching the ground floor via the stairs and pouring out onto the sidewalk. It must have been a long climb down for some, but they didn't look the least bit tired. Most looked frightened, especially those carrying small children or pets in their arms.

When they reached the sixteenth floor and rushed to the stairs, a few stragglers were still descending.

“Is anyone else up there?” the lieutenant shouted to a long-haired guy carrying a guitar and a couple of framed gold records.

“Not as far as I know.”

A young woman in front of him said, “We're from the twenty-first floor. We don't know who's still on any of the other floors.”

“Arish, Fierro…see if the floors above nineteen are clear,” Streeter ordered.

“Firefighters coming up,” Chloe yelled. “Move to your right!” She had already begun charging skyward, and it was all Ryan could do to keep up with her.

Damn, she's fast.
If he didn't know better, he'd think she had some kind of paranormal abilities. It had to be the adrenaline making her almost fly.

They passed one group of people, probably slowed down by the elderly woman clutching a small suitcase.
Did people really stop to pack when their building blew up?
It looked like a maid and butler were with her, so they may not have felt it was “their place” to hurry her along.

“What floor are you from?” Ryan asked.

“Twenty-five. It's the penthouse, and no—there's no one else up there, I live alone,” the woman announced, as if she were miffed that he would have to ask.

The staff exchanged glances and the butler behind her rolled his eyes. Ryan imagined them thinking, “What are we? Chopped liver?”

Whatever.
They were there to save rich and poor alike.

* * *

“Shall we start with twenty-four?” Chloe asked. She could have just told him that's what she wanted to do. She hoped she wasn't turning into one of those women who deferred to the man all the time.

Ryan nodded. They reached the floor quickly and began pounding on doors. So far it seemed as if everyone had made it out. Of course, it was nine in the morning, so a lot of people had probably left for work.

The twenty-third floor produced the same result. Twenty-two followed suit. Twenty-one was next. They split at the center stairs and each took their half of the hallway. This time Ryan's pounding and yelling was followed by a weak sound. It may have been someone who was immobilized.

The place was one floor above the apartment they'd last seen catch fire. At this point their fellow firefighters were probably knocking down that blaze. Black smoke was filling the hallway, completely obliterating any light from the window at the end of the hall.

Chloe wouldn't have heard the sound if she didn't have supernatural hearing. She wouldn't have seen what was happening either. She was on the opposite side of the corridor. Ryan had heard the noise though. He tried the door handle, but it was locked.

He dropped to the floor and was just about to kick in the sheetrock beside the door when Chloe noticed the wall bulging, and the black smoke seemed to be puffing back and forth.

“Stop!”

But she was too late. His powerful kick introduced oxygen into a tightly closed space. An explosion of superheated smoke—a back draft—was imminent and Ryan lay in front of it.

“No!” Chloe charged toward him, hoping to yank him out of the way in time. She was fireproof and would survive, but Ryan…

In the blast that immediately followed, windows shattered, the floor collapsed, and a raging fire ensued. Chloe had to shift into her dragon form immediately. She didn't give a crap if anyone saw her alternate form or not. This was why she'd become a firefighter. She, Drake, and any other dragon willing to go through the rigorous training involved could do the impossible.

A ripping sound said her turnout gear may have torn when she didn't shimmer it off fast enough.
Feck it.
A millisecond later, she had spread her wings and was hovering over the inferno.

Chloe feared the absolute worst but prayed for a miracle. Peering through the smoke to the floor below, she located a foot poking out from a pile of debris. Ryan's faint groan was the most beautiful sound she'd ever heard.

She flew to his side and began tossing everything off his dirt-smudged face. His protective head gear had been knocked off and his eyes had narrowed to mere slits. He looked as if he would pass out any second, and if he did, she would consider it a blessing. Not only would he be spared any pain, but he wouldn't catch her in her dragon form.

Too late. His eyes rounded, and he stared at her moments before he lost consciousness. She grabbed him with her tiny but strong arms and tried yanking him out from under the debris, but he was stuck on something.

She burrowed beneath as much of the rubble as she could and came upon the problem. Ryan was impaled through the stomach on a shaft of rebar. And he was not just unconscious…he was dying.

Chloe yelped. She knew not to remove the rod. He'd bleed out in seconds. But what could she do?

She cried for help in her dragon voice. Her fellow firefighters were probably scrambling down the stairs to save their own lives, but at least they'd know someone was there. Who or whatever had made the noise in the apartment couldn't have survived the blast.

Chloe shook his shoulders. “Don't you feckin' die!” When he took his last breath, she covered his mouth with hers as best she could without biting his face or breathing fire and blew some oxygen into him. She didn't think CPR would save him, but she had to try.

She blew another breath in and started chest compressions. Blood gushed out of the wound in his stomach. It was no use and she knew it, but she continued anyway. The fire raged on and soon she was trying to fight it off and bring her only love back to life at the same time.

The fire won. She sobbed big dragon tears beside Ryan's lifeless body as they were engulfed in flames. She knew she should get out, but she couldn't leave him. She held his charred hand, told him over and over that she loved him in her croaking voice, and watched as his body turned to ash. She hung her head and said a prayer for his brave soul.

Suddenly the pile of ash began to shift. It wasn't the kind of movement caused by a swirling fire.

What was that?
After nothing happened for another second, she thought,
I must have imagined it.
Maybe her brains were fried. She rose and realized she'd have to find a way to shift back and explain why she wasn't dead.

The pile stirred again.

Feck. I did see something move!
As she grappled for a logical explanation, a bright-white object rose slowly. Soon the shape of a bird about the size of a hawk emerged from the pile of ash. She stood fixed in place, staring in awe.

Beneath the gray ash, yellow and orange feathers appeared as the bird flapped its wings and hovered in front of her. Its eyes glowed white hot and glittered—like
diamonds
.

Then the creature turned and flew out the giant hole in the side of the building.

Chloe lay on her bed at the fire station, her arm covering her eyes. Her mind was a whirl of depressing facts, but she was
not
going to cry.

The hospital staff had marveled at how well she'd survived the fire and released her. The only explanation she could think of to give the chief was that the blast had thrown her clear. Then she (conveniently) lost consciousness.

How does Drake do this?
As much as she'd wanted this job—more than she'd wanted anything her whole long life—she had to question if she shouldn't just forget it and go back to Ireland.

Chloe hated that idea, but she had to acknowledge Aiden was right about one thing. She was the only hope for preserving the Arish clan and possibly the whole species. She was to be queen
if
their parents were dead and
if
Rory abdicated to stay in America with Amber.

Conlan, the only Arish older than she, might try to usurp the Erin clan's claim to the castle…even though their branch had scuttled off to Ulster in disgrace. But he'd agreed not to if she returned as queen.

Like it or not, she was next in line, and
queens
did what was good for their people, not themselves. Even if their “people” consisted of a tiny handful of dragons.

Feck, feck, feck!

None of this made sense. She'd finally found her true love only to lose him…maybe. She guessed. Hell, she didn't know. Was he some kind of paranormal bird or had she seen his spirit fly off to Summerland? She didn't know anything anymore.

It was true that the cousins could cause trouble for Shannon, Chloe's softhearted sister and her mortal, human husband. Keeping the Ballyhoo castle with the Erin Arish clan was of paramount importance. Their father had sacrificed too much to just give it to their Ulster cousins.

She sighed. Maybe, even if Ryan was alive, she'd be doing him a favor by leaving. He wanted something she couldn't give him. Children. She had already accepted a childless lifestyle and was quite content with her lot. But now…

Why did this have to fall on my shoulders?

She was worried enough about having children with a first cousin. Would dragons be subjected to the same risks of inbreeding as humans were? No one seemed to know. Could a damaged dragon be worse than no heir at all?

“Jaysus. I'm gettin' a splittin' headache.”

Haggarty must have passed by her room just as she muttered those words. He poked his head in. “I'm sorry about your headache. After what happened to Fierro, it's no wonder. I know you two were…close.”

She sat up and snorted. A slight curl of smoke exited her nostril and she waved it away quickly so it dissipated and Haggarty didn't notice. He probably thought she was waving away his comment.

“Are you okay?”

Her shoulders slumped. “To be sure. Right as rain.”

Haggarty invited himself in and pulled the desk chair over. “Talk to me.”

She stared at him. How could she begin to tell him what was wrong? It was better to say nothing than to open a door that couldn't be slammed shut.

“Chloe, I know you're tough as nails, and I may not be the most sensitive guy in the world, but you need to talk to someone. If not me, then someone else. Otherwise, they'll probably send you to the department shrink.”

“Crap.”

“Yeah. And you could be suspended if they think you're not coping well,” Haggarty said.

She hung her head. In a low voice she admitted, “I've been thinkin' that mayhaps goin' home to Ireland could be in my future.”

“You mean for a visit?”

She couldn't get the words past the lump in her throat, so she just shook her head.

“Wait a minute…” Haggarty exclaimed. “You mean to tell me you're going to quit? Oh,
hell
no. I won't let you. You're one of the best firefighters I've ever seen. If I have to throw my body over yours until you come to your senses, I will.”

He would too. She had to smile.

The captain poked his head around the doorjamb. “Chloe, can I see you in my office, please?”

His tone sounded sympathetic, but she knew he'd want an explanation for her survival and every last detail about what happened to Ryan. Steeling herself to tell a fantastic lie if she had to, she stood up slowly.

* * *

“I'm worried,” Mr. Fierro whispered as his family fussed over the phoenix that was their Ryan.

Miguel nodded. “I know. He isn't responding the way he did the last time this happened.”

Jayce sat next to his brother on the rec room couch. “He wasn't a man in love last time. Hell, he was just a kid. He was about seven, right, Dad?”

“Yeah.” The Fierro elder reflected on the last time they'd “lost” this particular son. Ryan had used lighter fluid on a charcoal barbecue that was taking too long to catch. A stupid mistake. A smoking charcoal was actually masking the fire, not that a kid would know that. Even the kid of a firefighter.

The flame followed the stream of fluid back and exploded the entire can, resulting in serious burns over eighty percent of Ryan's body. He was put out by Jayce and Gabe, then Mr. Fierro had to make the tough call. Ryan was incinerated and allowed to reincarnate.

He'd stayed home, with the family looking after him as he healed. Mrs. Fierro home-schooled all the boys, which kept authorities from knowing too much. Had he only stayed in phoenix form a few weeks while he aged back to a seven-year-old human, it would have been easier. But, alas. They had to tell some fanciful stories to keep the neighbors from wondering where one kid went and the other baby came from.

None of the Fierros wanted to explain why the family could treat burns better than a modern hospital could, so they were careful, but thank goodness they'd survive if all were lost—like now.

“Do you think we'll have to act as if he's dead—go through the funeral and everything, and then help him start life over somewhere else?” Miguel asked.

Antonio Fierro dropped his head in his hands. “We'll have to. I can't think of any way he could have survived that back draft.”

Ryan squawked and flapped his wings.

“Hush, now,” Mrs. Fierro said as she offered him a bowl of mineral water. “Nothing has been decided yet.”

Ryan settled but didn't take his beady eyes off his father.

Riiinnng.
“Saved by the bell.” Their doorbell had been ringing all damn day. He rose. “I'll go tell the media, brotherhood, or whoever the hell is out there to leave us alone. We're grieving.”

“Luca's still up there. He can do it.”

“Nah. I think they need to hear it from me.” He strode to the stairs and jogged to the first floor, ready to give the curious and well-wishers alike a lecture.

* * *

Fortunately the captain had asked Chloe to take a couple of days off. Well, it wasn't exactly a request. “Go home. Get some rest,” were his exact words.

Ordinarily she'd protest and insist she was fit for duty, but to be honest she could use a couple of days to hide from the world and cry. Haggarty had said she was “tough as nails,” but right now she felt about as tough as boiled potatoes.

She slipped her key into her lock and was about to schlep into her apartment when the door across the hall opened. Drake stood there.

He strode over and grasped her in a secure, comforting hug.

He didn't have time to say a word. She burst into tears and her knees started shaking.

He just held her tighter. “Let's get you inside and sit down.”

She nodded. Her feet barely cooperated, but she made it to her couch with his strong hand under her elbow. Drake returned to her door and shut it gently.

Chloe grabbed a tissue from the box on the coffee table, dried her eyes, and blew her nose. “I—I just don't know what to say. How to feel. I've never… I've never…”

Drake must have understood despite her lack of vocabulary. He sat down beside her and nodded. “I know.”

“How?”

“Been there.”

She took a deep breath. “For some feckin' reason, I never thought about the possibility of losin' someone I loved to fire. I thought with our secret weapon—dragonhood—we'd be able to prevent any fire-related disasters.”

He shook his head. “It's true that we have special abilities, but we're still limited by the laws of physics.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“Like not being in two places at one time. Like gravity—not being able to hold up a building that's determined to collapse.” He softened his voice. “Like the mortality of humans. There's only so much we can do.”

She struggled against the tears and lost. He just wrapped an arm around her shoulder and let her cry.

When she could form words again, she said, “How do they do it? I mean, most of them have no special powers at all. They're risking their own lives to
maybe
save someone else's.”

He nodded. “I know. Pretty incredible, isn't it?”

Suddenly angry, she ground out between her teeth, “It's nuts, that's what it is. It's crazy.”

“So why do you do it?” an unfamiliar female voice said from behind her.

Chloe whipped around. The Goddess of All stood silhouetted in her bay window. Gaia's long, white hair hung loosely over her shoulders, and she wore her usual Grecian robe, belted with a vine.

Stunned, Chloe said, “I do it because I can.”

“You can do other things,” Mother Nature stated matter-of-factly.

Chloe stared at her a few moments. When no elaboration followed she asked, “Like what?”

Mother Nature shrugged. “It's not up to me to be your career counselor. Didn't you have dreams when you were a little girl?”

Chloe snorted. “Yeah. Like a lot of little girls, I wanted to be a princess. And that dream came true the day I was born.”

Mother Nature smiled. “There. You see?”

Chloe frowned. “I see nuthin'. My father's kingdom was in ruins and most of his men were dead before I was old enough to understand why.”

“So? What can you do about that now?”

“Not a bloody t'ing, Goddess. Not a bloody t'ing.” Her Irish accent came back in such force, she couldn't help realizing it.

“You're not thinking broadly enough.” Mother Nature spread her arms wide. “Don't stop at what looks like a dead end. Push through that. Follow your thoughts—but let them run free. No one is
trapped
in their situation. There are always options.”

“Oh, to be sure… I could go home to Ballyhoo and take the throne in a crumbling ruin, but my ‘subjects' wouldn't recognize my authority. They'd laugh at me if I tried to tell 'em what to do.”

“I didn't say they were all
good
options.” Mother Nature lowered herself gracefully onto the window seat and folded her arms. “You know…I didn't invent kingdoms and royalty and all that shit.
You
invented that. I mean, the collective you. In other words, everyone who isn't me.”

“So, what are you sayin'?”

Gaia shrugged. “I'm not saying anything.”

Chloe stared at the floor and muttered, “You got that right.”

The goddess's posture straightened and she began to lift up off the seat.

Drake looked over Chloe's head. “Gaia. Please don't take what she's saying right now as disrespect. She's grieving. She needs time.”

Mother Nature's posture seemed to relax and she floated back to the bench. “You're right. Very little I could say right now would help. In that case, I'll go.”

Neither she nor Drake had a chance to say yea, nay, or see you later. Gaia was gone.

Chloe felt a little better. Why she should was a mystery. Nothing had changed. Just being able to talk about it with an understanding friend was the only difference from earlier that day.

“Is there anything I can do?” Drake asked.

She thought about it for a few minutes. “No. You've already done more than anyone else could have. Actually, I don't know. Maybe you can explain something…”

“Explain what? Death?”

“No. I'm quite feckin' familiar with death. That's why I rarely get close to anyone. They just get to the point of interesting me more than they annoy me, and then they go and die. It sucks.”

“Yes it does.”

“Is that why you gave up your immortality for Bliss?”

He smiled. “Yes.”

He didn't have to say any more. If she'd had a chance to spend a normal life with Ryan and then give up living when he did, she might have to think about it for a millisecond.

“Well, I'm glad Bliss changed her mind and you both became immortal as a result. Was Gaia upset about it?”

Drake chuckled. “Oh, you could say that. But Bliss can dig her way out of trouble just as easily as she gets herself into it.”

“How so?”

“She recognizes her worth. She knew Gaia needed her to be a modern muse, and she hammered out an agreement with her until they were both satisfied.”

“I assume you were part of that agreement.”

Drake nodded. “I was to have my immortality back and she would become the muse of email. As a minor goddess, that gave Bliss immortality too. Gaia wanted her to be the muse of the entire Internet, but I don't think Mother Nature realized what an impossible task that was.”

Chloe sat silent for a while.

Drake narrowed his gaze. “Are you okay?”

“I'm just doing what Gaia suggested. Thinking of all the possibilities. I'm no good with the Internet. Is she looking for any other positions?”

Drake cleared his throat. “It's not as if she advertises. In fact, I'm pretty sure the offer has to come from her. If you want to work for her at some point, you'd be better off not insulting her.”

Chloe focused on the hardwood floor at her feet and mulled that over. “I don't think I insulted her—yet. Did I?”