The Seven: Four tales of passion, danger and love (44 page)

Yeah, it had done that. Fire Walker. A man who could literally walk through fire and feel it like the touch of a lover’s caress.

A man who could spout wings and fly.

A man who just might live forever.

And a man who would always be alone because of the secret he had to protect.

Because he wasn’t just a man.

He was a dragon.

Chapter Three

Severin looked up a moment before the knock sounded at his door. This was not an uninvited guest, but someone he’d been expecting.

“Augustus.” Severin smiled upon opening the door.

“Good to see you, Severin.”

“And you. Come in.”

Augustus entered and at a gesture from Severin, took a seat. “In case you’ve not been told, we received a communication from Gabriel.”

Severin had heard the news. Gabriel and his beloved Nevaeh had returned through the portal to their own realm with Eldric Whitehorse in an effort to stop the dark forces from obliterating the light. It had been more than a year since they made the crossing, and in that time much had changed.

Despite all their vigilance, beings of the Darkness had crossed into this realm. One in particular had caused the Council a good deal of trouble. Nyah.

Even the thought of her brought a quick stab of pain to Severin, one he had no choice but to dismiss as best he could. Nyah was the enemy. Through her tattoos, she was creating an army of changelings.

“By your expression, I will assume you’ve heard the news,” Augustus commented.

“I have.”

Augustus leaned his head back, blew out a breath and looked away for a brief moment. When he looked at Severin again, there was a red sheen to his eyes, something Severin recognized. It signaled rage. Deep and possibly destructive.

Severin watched Augustus closely and with intense interest. It was near miraculous to see the red wash dissipate from Augustus eyes, feel the tension in the air around them abate. Few beings possessed the will power to force rage from themselves. Augustus was one of those few.

Lucky for Severin, his house, and probably half the neighborhood. When Augustus gave his rage free reign, destruction inevitably followed.

“Let us speak of the news from Gabriel,” Severin suggested and reclaimed his seat.

“Yes. Rather than me give you news you’ve already received, tell me what you know.”

“Of course. According to the report I was given—verbally, mind you—Gabriel has been officially crowned King of the Angels. He has successfully forged an alliance with the Daemon Lord of Light, Aharon and the Head of the League of White Wizards, Daelan. The others of our kind, Changelings and Weres have sworn allegiance to Gabriel. After many trials and testings, Eldric Whitehorse stepped into the shoes his father left empty and now rules the Light Fae. Attempts to establish a treaty with the Dark Fae have met with failure.”

Severin fell silent and waited for Augustus to speak. When the silence stretched on, his thoughts turned to Nyah and the army she was trying to build. It was, without doubt, an army sanctioned by the leaders of the Dark Path. She could not, even with her considerable powers, accomplish the type of transformations she had achieved on her own.

No, Severin knew better than anyone that in order to transform a human into a changeling, the ink must be created from more than  dyes.  It must containthe blood of a Daemon, a Changeling and a Fae, all of whom possessed the ability to shape-shift.

Additionally, it required the blood of a Fae who could control the process of genetic transposition through magic. Securing the required blood was a Herculean task. He knew because he’d taken on the task himself the moment he became aware of what Nyah was doing. To combat her army, he was creating his own, and trying to subvert hers.

As if reading his thoughts, Augustus spoke up. “I am aware of the abominations she is creating.”

“It shames you to refer to them as such, Augustus. They are merely humans who have been taken advantage of, seduced by Nyah into believing something wondrous is being bestowed upon them, unaware of how the tattoos bind them to her, relegate them as slaves to her desires.”

“You are correct, of course. Forgive me. I—I’m frustrated and infuriated, Severin. It seems that every step forward we take, we are forced two back. There are times I long to let loose the hound of war, to lay waste to everything and everyone the Dark Path has touched, owned, controlled or coerced.”

“And thereby become that which you hate.”

Augustus blew out a harsh breath. “Yes, damn it all to hell. But this—this genetic manipulation. Severin, we must put an end to it.
You
must put an end to it.”

“Why does it fall to me?” Severin asked. 

The look Augustus gave him brought a rush of shame. “Yes, of course, you’re correct. However, in the spirit of transparency between allies, you deserve to know that I am unsure I can undo all she has done. Her…creations number in the thousands. Some I’ve been able to neutralize, and some my own creations have destroyed because they could not be subdued. However, I have no confidence that the true number of her…
children
, let’s call them, are known or discoverable.”

“So what are you saying?” Augustus asked.

“That it will require calling upon the Council for help, upon the resources of the other tribes.”

“You do know that many of our people would see her destroyed.”

“I do.”

“And can you live with that, old friend?”  Augustus’ voice carried a note empathy.

Severin could no longer meet Augustus’ eyes because he could not give the answer Augustus wanted to hear.

He knew beyond all manner of doubt that he could never stand by and see Nyah destroyed, watch her life come to an end, knowing that what made her unique would no longer be of this realm of existence.

Severin didn’t know if he could live knowing that she didn’t. As much as he detested what she’d done and what she’d become, the love he had always had for her had never died or diminished.

She was the only one for him. When she died, love died with her, and he’d be relegated to a lifetime without love.

As much as he wanted to stop her, he would never allow her to be killed, and to protect her meant switching allegiance to the Darkness.

It left him, as humans would say, between a rock and a hard place. He had to find a way to stop her without harming her and he needed to do it quickly, for there would come a time when the Council of Seven would grow tired of waiting for him to put an end to her and take matters into his own hands.

He couldn’t let that happen.

*****

Grace turned from the ATM and smacked into the man standing entirely too close behind her.

“Excuse me.”

He grinned down at her, then sidestepped to block her as she tried to maneuver around him. “Where’s the fire, gorgeous?”

“Get out of my way.”

“Or what?”

His taunt was probably meant as some ill attempt at flirtation, but it lit a fire inside Grace. She was sick and tired of men thinking they had the right to harass women simply because they had a penis.

“I said move!”

The man’s eyes widened in shock liberally laced with fear. “What the fuck? Fucking freak!”

Grace felt the rage collapse in on itself at the look on his face and the way he glanced over his shoulder as he hurried away. Hadn’t he been there to use the ATM? And why was the woman in the white minivan parked at the curb looking at her as if she’d suddenly sprouted horns?

She hurried to her car. Over the last six months, since the night of the
incident
as she thought of it, her life had changed in a lot of ways.

Nyah, true to her word had started to ink her.

Grace had never felt such pain. The first session, she’d lasted ten minutes before she was screaming. Nyah had mixed up an herbal concoction for her the next time and it helped dull some of the pain during the inking process.

But not the pain that came afterwards.

It was as her blood was on fire. She suffered chills and fevers, sometimes went for days with a raging headache and often was unable to stomach more than tea and toast.

And yet she kept going back.

Even now, two weeks after the final session, she wondered why she’d persisted. Maybe it was because she felt safe when she was with Nyah. And despite the pain and sickness , the more complete the tattoo became, the more whole she felt. Whole and strong. Almost a new and improved Grace.

She chuckled at that thought. More than one person had commented on the change. Some not so favorably. By nature a meek person, she’d found herself being far more assertive and aggressive, willing to take risks she’d have shied away from before.

Walton Friendly, the closest thing she had to family, had mentioned her newfound sense of self-confidence several times.  Every time she gave credit to Nyah and the ink, he scoffed. She was more than the ink work that had been applied to her skin. It was Grace who deserved the credit for growing and becoming a strong, self-sufficient person.

She loved him for wanting to think it was all her, but she knew better. The ink had changed her. It might not make sense to anyone else, but she could feel it. It had given her the courage to try things she would have been too timid to attempt before.

Like the new job she was starting tonight. A very upscale men’s club had opened downtown and she’d been hired as a dancer. The pay was four times that which she’d ever earned, and with her tattoo she felt exotic and beautiful—more than equipped to earn some fat tips and thus stay solvent while she went to school.

Grace couldn’t wait to tell Nyah that she’d been accepted into the EMT, Emergency Medical Technician program at the Community College. She’d had to apply for financial aid and take out student loans, but what the hell? She’d been accepted.

Suddenly things were looking up   and she had Nyah to thank. The exquisite dragon that circled her body had provided her more than simply a work of art. It was almost as if Nyah had given her the strength of a dragon—the strength to meet life head on and face up to any challenge.

There was just enough time to swing by Nyah’s before her class . Within minutes, she was pulling into a parking space across the street from Nyah’s shop. She fairly ran across the street, eager to tell Nyah her news. She grabbed the old-fashioned door handle and pushed.

And collided with the door when it didn’t open.

It was then she noticed the shop was dark. The small window beside the door had cardboard covering it from inside. Even the lettering on the door announced
Nyah Ink
was gone.

“What the hell?”

Grace backed up, looked at the window then to the shops on either side. She tried the nail salon to the right.

“Hey,” she greeted the tiny Asian receptionist.

“You have appointment today?”

“No, not today. I just wondered if you’d seen Nyah? Her shop is locked and there’s cardboard over the window.”

“Huh?”

“Nyah, next door. The tattooist.”

“No tattoo next door. That place been empty three years.”

“Come on, I’ve been coming in here for six months talking about the tattoo she’s doing on me.”

“You crazy girl,” the receptionist said with a shrug. “We do you nails, listen to you tall tales.”

Grace couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Is this some kind of joke?”

“No joke. We do nails. You want touch-up today?”

“No. Thanks. No.” Grace backed up to the door, trying not to look at the curious faces of the technicians and clients. With tears threatening and fear making her stomach churn, she turned and fled.

Once on the sidewalk she stopped, looking one way, then the other. The woman in the nail salon had to be lying. Grace ran to the small cafe on the opposite side of Nyah’s. The elderly couple who ran it, Millie and Dean, were a nice old couple, very friendly. Grace had eaten there many times over the last six months, often with Nyah. Maybe they would know where she was.

Millie was sitting at the register when Grace entered, reading the latest novel by her favorite writer. “Hey Grace. You want a table or are you sitting at the counter today?”

“Actually neither. I have to get to work early tonight. I just wanted to know if you’d seen Nyah.”

“Who?”

“Nyah. From next door. You know, Nyah Ink?”

Millie’s smile faded. She put her book down and hurried around the counter to take Grace by the arm .  Millie cut a look around the café at the curious patrons and pulled Grace off to one side.. “Honey, what are you talking about?”

Grace felt like someone who’d just had a rug jerked out from under her feet. The world tilted crazily and she had to reach out and grab Millie’s arm to steady herself. “Millie, Nyah and I have eaten in here a hundred times. You know her.”

Millie shook her head, her expression one of worry.. “Honey, you’ve always come in alone. And the place next door has been empty since the man who ran the florist shop died three years ago.”

“No.” Grace backed away from her. “No. That’s not true. Nyah’s been there. She did my tattoo. We eat here. Why are you doing this? Why are you lying?”

“Grace, honey, are you okay? You haven’t—you haven’t taken any drugs, have you?”

“Drugs? I don’t do drugs.”