Up In Smoke (14 page)

“I'm going into the shadow world,” I whispered, leaning toward a dark shape that was Maata. “Go help Gabriel. I'll keep the phylactery safe that way.”

She didn't say anything as I slipped into the safety of the shadow world, that slightly altered version of our reality. Things always looked a bit different in the shadow world, and the instant I stood up, I saw what it was that had been hidden from my eyes in our world—behind the four men who continued to pump the room full of bullets, another man paced, a tall man in a long black duster, with a blue aura of power around him the likes of which I'd never seen.

Smoke still obscured my view, although it was lessened greatly in the shadow world. I walked toward the man, intent on getting a closer look at him. I was safe from bullets or other physical attacks, facts that drove my curiosity as I made my way around the struggle that was going on in the room. I passed Gabriel, Drake, and Kostya as they huddled together, Drake giving the other two orders. They split up, a group of dragons going with each wyvern as they skirted around the edges of the room, clearly intent on ambushing the men at the door. Bao and Bastian were on the other side of the room, obviously following a similar plan.

I walked down the middle of the room, trying to get a better look at the man who continued to pace back and forth behind the gunmen. Two dragons hauled another one to the side of the room, the injured member groaning piteously. I hesitated, wondering whether I should help, but a shout from another group of dragons as they ran for the door distracted me. The pacing man stopped, spinning around to peer into the room, but it wasn't the distracting rush that held his eyes. I took a step forward and was suddenly flung a good three yards back as his gaze locked onto me. He turned toward me, and I saw his face in the light: high cheekbones and deep-set black eyes lending him a faintly Slavic look. His hair was dark as well, pulled back from a pronounced widow's peak into a long ponytail.

I stumbled, shocked that he could see me in the shadow world. He was a dragon, of that I was sure, and dragons as a rule couldn't enter the shadow world. Gabriel was an exception due to his shaman mother, but I'd never heard of another dragon who could see someone in it, let alone enter. And yet as he strode forward toward me, he slipped as easily into my world as if he had been born to it.

I scrambled backwards at the same time I reached for my dagger. Dimly, I heard Gabriel shout my name. A spike of fear ripped through me as the man continued to approach. I glanced around quickly for an avenue of escape, not wanting to engage him in a battle until I was sure of who he was. He stopped suddenly, the quick intake of breath a hiss as his gaze narrowed on the object hanging outside my blouse.

“Lindorm Phylactery,” he said, and slowly reached out a hand as if he was going to take it. I scrambled backwards, falling over a table and a dragon who lay on the floor groaning, clutching the platinum case so hard it cut into the flesh of my palm.

To my horror, it didn't seem to want to be held. It slipped out of my hand and rose straight off my chest, the chain cutting sharply into the back of my neck as if it was answering his call. I grabbed at it again, using both hands to pull it back to me.

The man snarled something,

“Mayling!” Gabriel yelled, his voice coming through to the shadow world faint, as if he was a great distance away. It was hard to hear over the dull noise of everything going on around us, but I could pick out a few words. “. . . use it!” he shouted. Behind the mysterious man, the wyverns had commenced their attack on the gunmen, Drake's people swarming the one nearest them, a full-fledged battle going on as the other three gunmen were simultaneously attacked. I caught sight briefly of Gabriel as he and Tipene fought one of the shooters, Gabriel ripping the automatic weapon from the latter's grip, slamming the butt of it down onto his attacker's head. He turned back to me and yelled something, but it was impossible to make out the words. Three more men appeared in the doorway, throwing themselves on Gabriel as he called out again.

“Use it!”

The phylactery—he wanted me to use the phylactery. He must have seen the mysterious man as well, and he wanted me to use it in order to protect it from capture.

The man in front of me snarled again, making a sharp gesture. The platinum casing that held the phylactery exploded, small bits of metal piercing my hands and stomach.

I bit back an oath at the sudden pain, clutching the vaguely dragon-shaped lump of gold that was revealed. I studied it for a fraction of a second, unsure of how I was to use it. I wasn't a dragon; such things were not instinctual to me.

The man took a step toward me, lifting his head slightly as if he was scenting the air.

“Mate,” he said, the word holding equal measures of disbelief and anger. “Silver mate?”

“Who are you?” I asked, unable to keep from speaking.

He shook his head, and for a moment I thought he was going to turn and leave. But he launched himself at me, knocking me painfully backwards onto overturned chairs.

Gabriel shouted again, and time seemed for a few seconds to telescope. The doorway was black with bodies as reinforcements streamed in, attacking the dragons, who had managed to take three of the four gunmen down. There was no way we were going to be able to stand against those sorts of numbers, not when we had been taken by surprise.

Light was blotted out as the man rose above me, his eyes glittering with a bluish black light that scared me to death. Electricity gathered in the air around him, giving him a blue corona that made the air crackle.

The phylactery began to shake in my hand as it struggled to free itself from me. I had a momentary vision of me telling Gabriel I'd lost the phylactery, the horror that it instilled within me giving me the strength I needed.

“I may not be a dragon, but I am a dragon's mate,” I yelled, and gathered to myself not only the shadows that were so much a part of me, but Gabriel's fire. I let both build within me, clutching the phylactery tightly with both hands as I started to channel the shadows and fire through it.

The man hesitated for a moment, a curious expression passing over his face. “No,” he simply said, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

“Oh, yes,” I said, then released the phylactery.

It hung in the air in front of me for a moment, suspended in time and space, then exploded in a nova of fire that made the very earth tremble. The explosion knocked me back several feet, the room filling with a giant fireball that, in my last few seconds of consciousness, seemed to consume everything in it. I sank down into the conflagration, giving myself up to it, becoming one with the dragon fire.

Chapter Fourteen

“
A
re you sure this is the right road?”

Cyrene consulted the map we'd purchased in Faro before setting off west along the coastline to the small town of Sagres. “It's the only road, so it has to be the correct one.”

“I just hope we don't end up lost. I don't have a lot of time to deal with this situation of yours.” I slowed the car as the road shot around a hairpin curve, perched high on a rocky cliff overlooking the pounding surf. Judging by the intensity of the waves crashing into the cliff side, I wasn't surprised people came to Portugal for surfing.

Cyrene slid me a coy glance. “Are you going to tell me about that?”

“About what?” I asked, knowing perfectly well what she was talking about. I still hadn't decided what to tell her about the conversation Gabriel and I had had with Jian the previous day.

“You know perfectly well that you're hiding something from me. It's written all over your face.”

“Nonsense,” I said, wishing for something like the five thousandth time that I could see my reflection. “I have a perfect poker face.”

“If that's the case, then you've got a full house and you're trying to make me think you've only got a pair, so spill.”

I drove silently for a few minutes, trying to decide if I could trust her with the details. I'd never kept secrets from Cyrene, not big ones, and I was fairly uncomfortable with holding back information that I knew would interest her . . . and likely impact her, if she continued her fling with a certain black dragon. But I had promised to protect Gabriel and his dragons, and if that meant keeping things from my twin, then that's what I must do.

It was just all so confusing.

“It's something to do with Kostya, isn't it?” she asked, watching me avidly.

I schooled my face to the same blank expression I wore around Magoth. “Not really, no. It has to do with another dragon sept.”

“Oh? Which one?”

“Red,” I said reluctantly, torn with conflicting desires.

“Mayling, I'm your twin, your creator,” she said, patting me on the arm. “You can trust me.”

I slid her a quick glance, shifting the car into a lower gear as we tackled a long incline. “What about Kostya?”

“What about him?”

“You were pretty insistent at the
sárkány
that you were his mate. That implies you'd feel honor bound to tell him about anything related to dragon politics.”

She examined a perfectly buffed and polished fingernail. “He was just as insistent that I was not his mate.”

I pulled the car off the road into a narrow overlook intended for tourists, turning to face her in the small rental car. “What are you going to do about that?”

“About Kostya, you mean?”

I nodded.

She made a little face. “Nothing. He's just in denial right now, Mayling. I told you he was suffering from some emotional issues that had to do with him being held prisoner. He's confused about our relationship; that's all. Once he gets his feet back under him, he'll see that we were meant to be together.”

Her words struck a sore spot. Gabriel and I belonged together—even without the dragon shard prompting me to exhibit dragonish tendencies, I knew that we were fated to be together, to share our lives. Perhaps Cyrene felt the same thing about Kostya? Stranger things had happened.

“All right, then; let's say you are Kostya's mate. That doesn't give me a lot of confidence about revealing things that I'd rather not have him know right now.”

The look she gave me was filled with injured dignity. “If you told me something in confidence, I would never repeat it!”

“Cy, you've blabbed just about every secret I've ever told you, including a few that weren't even true.”

“Those were your own fault,” she said, ruffling up just a little. “Telling me you were a lesbian just so I'd stop trying to fix you up . . . Honestly, May!”

“We've moved past that misunderstanding,” I said, not wanting to open up that particular can of worms again. “What I want to know is whether or not you'll go running to Kostya with everything I tell you.”

Her nose wrinkled up as she thought about that for a moment. “Probably I will.”

I sighed and took the steering wheel again.

“Unless you tell me specifically not to, that is. Despite what you think, I
can
keep a secret. But I don't want to be in a position where I have to make a choice between you and Kostya. I love you, Mayling. You're my twin! But I love Kostya, too, and I don't want to have to pick one of you over the other.”

“Fair enough,” I said, pulling the car back onto the road, noting a sign that indicated that the small town where a local surfing competition was being held was only a few kilometers away. “What I have to say doesn't concern Kostya directly. However, I don't want you to repeat any of this to him.”

“Grace of the naiads,” she swore, drawing a symbol representative of water elementals over her heart.

I took a deep breath, relieved that we'd come to an understanding. Cyrene may not be the wisest or most savvy person on the earth, but I knew her heart was good, and if she swore by the grace of her kind not to tell, then she wouldn't. “You remember the red dragon named Jian?”

“The good-looking one?” She nodded. “Kostya said he was the son of the previous wyvern.”

“That's him. Well, he came to see us yesterday, asking for our help.”

“To overthrow that witchy wyvern? I don't blame him one bit. I didn't like her at all. But what do the silver dragons have to do with the red ones? I thought all of the septs were fairly insular.”

“It's a bit more complicated than that. It concerns me being the phylactery for the dragon shard.”

“Oh! Speaking of that, where is it?”

The road was particularly twisty as it followed the ragged coastline, but I chanced taking my eyes off the road for a moment to shoot a surprised look her way. “Where is the shard?”

“Yes. Is it inside you, like a tumor or something? Can you feel it? Does it hurt?”

“I believe it's inside me, yes. There's a small mark below my rib cage that wasn't there before the Lindorm Phylactery exploded. But it doesn't hurt.”

“So you don't even know it's there?” She blew out a relieved breath. “That's good.”

I didn't correct her. The fact that I was slowly losing myself to the dragon-heart shard would become apparent in time; until then, I wouldn't mention it.

“What do Jian and his mother have to do with the shard inside you?”

“A few months ago Aisling banished his mother, Chuan Ren, to Abaddon.”

She nodded. “I heard that. That's some kind of awesome, huh?”

“Impressive, yes. Jian wants us to get her back. Specifically, he wants me to get her back.”

“You?” Her forehead wrinkled. “But you didn't cast Chuan Ren into Abaddon, Aisling did. Why isn't he asking Aisling to bring her back?”