Serpent's Kiss: A Dragonfire Novel (12 page)

“Isn’t everybody?”

Chandra shook her head. “Some of us are afraid of living.” Her confession seemed to startle her as much as it did him.

“Excuse me?”

“Comes with the territory,” she said quickly, as enigmatic as ever, then gestured to the skulls. “Trust me. They’ll tell us something.”

“How?”

Her eyes shone, as if she could read his thoughts. Certainly she had to sense his trepidation. His heart was racing, as if he’d run a couple of miles, and he felt it was practically echoing in this small space. It wasn’t just because of the firestorm, either. He could have done without the reminder that death comes as the end. He could almost taste death on his tongue, taste the ash of burning and the smell, that smell…

“Choose one and see,” Chandra invited, interrupting his thoughts.

She might have been suggesting he pick a sandwich from a tray. She must do this all the time. What was she and where was she from?

What exactly
was
her territory?

The last thing Thorolf wanted to do was touch a skull, no matter how long it had been without flesh. Still he sensed that Chandra didn’t think he’d do it. He wanted to surprise her.

“Bones don’t talk,” he protested.

“Ghosts do,” she retorted, so quickly he imagined someone had made that argument before.

So the ghosts and the skulls had a connection, and that had something to do with how she knew about the
Pyr
. Thorolf didn’t get it, but it was clear that Chandra intended to demonstrate rather than explain.

“Okay.” Thorolf looked around, trying to discern a difference between the skulls or at least something that would invite his choice. They all looked pretty much the same.

The falcon was sitting on one. If the bird was some kind of familiar for Chandra, or even if it just understood the rules of this sanctuary, its selection might matter. Maybe it wasn’t arbitrary.

It was as good a choice as any other.

Thorolf reached impulsively for the skull the falcon sat upon and the bird fluttered its wings, only taking flight enough to move to another skull. Thorolf lifted the skull in one hand, surprised to find it a little smaller than he’d expected and certainly lighter. He turned to offer it to Chandra, without knowing what she’d do with it, but she was gone.

In fact, the whole temple was gone. He was standing alone, a skull cradled in his hand, and it was raining blood.

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.