The Dragon of Sedona (The Treasure of Paragon Book 4)

by Genevieve Jack

  She looked up at him and shrugged. “I have no idea.”

  She reached into the flames to get a better look, but she’d barely gathered the young one into her arms before purple lightning sparked across the shell. “Ah!” The shock ran through her, and the egg flew from her hands despite her best efforts.

  Avery reached out and caught it.

  Maiara stood. “That happened before, when we delivered it. Tobias said it was the witch blood. Only Raven was able to touch it.”

  Rowan stared at Avery, who was having no problem handling her sister’s young.

  “Gabriel was right, the shell is cool to the touch, despite being in the flames.” The wonder in her voice was palpable.

  “Completely fireproof,” Rowan said. “It won’t retain the heat. That’s why you have to keep it warm.”

  Avery smiled at the egg, cradling it gently in her arms. “I must look enough like Raven. Or maybe it’s because we share the same blood. This little guy isn’t afraid of me.” She placed her hand over the silhouette of fingers inside the shell. “I’m your Aunt Avery. I’m going to take care of you.”

  Rowan threaded her fingers with Nick’s and moved closer. “Avery?”

  Avery lifted her face and smiled. “I’ll do it. I’ll care for my niece or nephew. I owe it to my sister. I promised her.”

  No one uttered a single word of protest.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  “A private jet. By the Mountain, being head of a vampire coven does have its advantages.” Alexander climbed the stairs and boarded the shiny black Cessna behind Maiara. Rowan, Nick, and Avery were already on board.

  “It’s a loaner,” Rowan said, slamming the door on an overhead bin. “Sabrina said the owner owed her a favor.”

  “Who’s the owner?” Alexander helped Maiara find a place for her bag and showed her how to buckle in. He could tell she was nervous. It was her first time on an airplane, and if there was one thing she wasn’t comfortable with yet about 2018, it was the technology.

  “She told me it was better if I didn’t know.” Rowan shrugged.

  Alexander moved past Avery, who was carefully stowing the egg under her seat. The portable incubator that housed her niece or nephew was Nick’s brainchild. He’d read about an inventor who had patented one to use in third-world countries and created his own version. It was basically a dog crate lined with an electric blanket and powered by a battery pack.

  “Hey, it fits,” Nick said from his seat beside Rowan.

  “Simple but ingenious,” she said.

  Alexander turned his full attention on his mate. Maiara shifted in her seat beside him and tightened her seat belt.

  “You say we will fly in this?”

  He threaded his fingers into hers. “People do it all the time now. You must have seen airplanes before while you were inside Nikan.”

  “From a distance.”

  “But you saw them fly, so you know it’s possible.” Alexander kissed her temple. “I wouldn’t think someone who had lived as a bird would be afraid to fly.”

  Maiara’s brow furrowed. “It’s different when they are your own wings.”

  “Now you’ll have to trust in mine.” Alexander gestured toward his back and the wings she knew were there. He’d never let her fall, and in her heart he was sure she realized that.

  Still, she squinted skeptically out the window at the wing.

  “So, where exactly are we off to?” Avery asked.

  Rowan answered. “Oxford. There’s a professor of history there who specializes in myth and folklore and agreed to assess a seventeenth-century manuscript my gallery recently acquired. It seems he has a special interest in dragons. Harriet thought he’d be a good place to start.”

  “As good as any,” Maiara said. Her palm was sweaty inside his own.

  “You know,” Alexander said to her, “you dove off a cliff with a homicidal fairy and didn’t even blink.”

  “Yes. That is true.”

  “But this scares you.”

  “It is very heavy, and I don’t understand how the wings work.” The corners of her mouth sagged.

  He was distracted when the pilot, a sophisticated woman in a blue uniform, exited the cockpit, raised the stairs, and sealed the door. She wore her dark hair coiled at the back of her head, and she faced away from them, but Alexander thought there was something acutely familiar about her. He couldn’t quite place where he’d seen her before, and he narrowed his eyes, willing her to turn around.

  Finally his wish was granted. She finished with the stairs and approached them, a bright, practiced smile spreading her lips. Alexander started. She was stunning, with skin that seemed lit from within and eyes the color of molten gold. Those had to be contacts. No one had eyes that color. It was like looking into the face of the sun itself. Alexander darted a glance at Rowan, who widened her eyes and shrugged.

  “You’ll have to excuse the lack of service on this flight. Your host made it clear that the confidentiality of your travels requires we limit your crew to pilot and copilot. Please help yourself to the snacks and drinks at the back of the plane if you need anything,” the pilot said, then turned and looked directly at Avery.

  Alexander’s breath hitched. That was where he’d seen her before. Aside from the gold eyes and the general glow, the pilot resembled Raven and Avery. Not exactly, but in the way of a distant relative. “Do you need anything?”

  Avery swallowed. “No. I’m fine.”

  “Very well. I’m Captain Dawn. We should have you in London in approximately twelve hours with one stop to refuel along the way.”

  She turned toward Maiara, who was still gripping Alexander’s hand for dear life.

  “I promise you,” Captain Dawn said. “You are in good hands. I’ll take you exactly where you need to be.”

  The pilot turned and retreated to the cockpit. The engine roared to life.

  Moments later, the plane barreled down the runway and lifted into the star-filled Arizona sky. Once the plane leveled out, Maiara’s grip loosened. “Better?” Alexander asked.

  She raised her chin. “The pilot lied.”

  “About what?”

  “She said she would take me where I need to be. I am already where I need to be.” Maiara kissed him tenderly and leaned her head against his shoulder.

  He wrapped an arm around her, beyond grateful for whatever life would bring now that they were together. “I couldn’t agree more.”

  I hope you’ve enjoyed THE DRAGON OF SEDONA. While Raven, Gabriel, and Tobias remain imprisoned in Paragon, the others are on their way to London to look for their missing siblings. Only Nathaniel doesn’t want to be found, not by them or his ex-lover, an American pop star named Clarissa who needs his help solving a sudden problem with her voice. Order THE DRAGON OF CECIL COURT now, or turn the page to read a free excerpt!

  The Dragon of Cecil Court

  The Treasure of Paragon Book 5

  Turn the page to read a free excerpt

  Chapter One

  Nathaniel Clarke lingered outside Relics and Runes occult bookstore, his pipe nestled in his palm. Not so long ago, he’d have fired the Turkish tobacco loosely tamped within its bent rosewood bowl in the comfort of his office, but smoking indoors was illegal these days in London. Bad for humans. He supposed when your lifespan was a mere hundred years or less, cutting it short by a decade or more for the sake of a smoke was reckless.

  As an immortal dragon, Nathaniel couldn’t get cancer or any other human disease, and considering her could breathe fire, a little smoke was completely harmless to his compositions. Humans, however, were important to Nathaniel, composing the majority of the occult book buying business. Plus, he enjoyed the company of a few of them. He’d prefer to keep them alive.

  No matter, it was early and Cecil Court was yet to suffer the trod of visitor’s footsteps, which gave him an opportunity to both enjoy his favorite smoke and make use of the enchanting properties of his particular tobacco blend. Specially developed by a
friend, warlock, and master tobacconist, the heady smoke served a number of purposes including warning of danger and making his storefront irresistible to shoppers.

  He flipped the top of his butane lighter and circled the flame over the tobacco, then let it burn out, a good false light. Ah yes, the scent was heavenly. Then he lit it again and took a ceremonious puff. The thick smock curled along his tongue before he blew it out in a perfect, cloud-like ring that floated toward the summer sky.

  “For crying out loud, Clarke, are you still sending good money up the spout on that dreadful habit?” Mr. Greene, owner of the neighboring bookshop specializing in rare editions, appeared beside him, broom in hand, and raised his bushy grey eyebrows. He stared pointedly at Nathaniel’s pipe. “You’re going to blow an artery if you keep that up.”

  “Not everyone can be the picture of health as you are, Greene.” Nathaniel pointed a knuckle at the man and winked. “I’m of the mind to enjoy what years I have with a good smoke.”

  “Because you’re a young chap. Wait until you’re old like me and regret comes to roost.” He straitened his sweater vest over his overlarge stomach.

  “I dare say Greene, I predict you’ll outlive us all.”

  The elderly man chuckled. “From your lips to God’s ears.” He gave his stoop a few half hearted sweeps. “Speaking of regrets of the past and all that, have you heard the news this morning?”

  “I haven’t had the pleasure.” He puffed his pipe and blew a smoke ring over Greene’s head. Nathaniel took no pleasure in current events. The world was in a constant state of wearing political angst. After three hundred years, he’d seen empires rise and fall. It didn’t matter to him which blowhard was in office or who was seen hobnobbing with whom. Nathaniel existed above it all. And if he didn’t like something, all he had to do was wait. Everything ended eventually, aside from him.

  Greene wagged his finger. “Oh dear. I would have thought you’d be the first to know.”

  “Hmm? What’s that?” He sent a tiny smoke ring through the center of a bigger one. The enchantment was taking hold. Already the brass around his door appeared shinier and the red paint gleamed as if he’d painted it yesterday.

  “That fling of yours from a few years ago, the songbird from the states, you know the pretty one.”

  Nathaniel released the smoke he was holding in an uncontrolled and unattractive exhale. “You don’t mean…”

  “The fish that got away, Clarke. You know the one. The woman with the one name. Ahh, I’ve lost my head.” He tapped the heal of his hand against his temple. “Can’t think of it. Something… Clarissa! That’s it.”

  “Clarissa is in London?” An uninvited tingle radiated from the back of Nathaniel’s neck down his arms and made his hands go numb. For the love of the Mountain, he did not need to hear Clarissa was in town today.

  “She is! But that’s not why everyone is talking about her. It seems she was performing for a corporate audience, the people who make those home gadgets. Tanaka corp. Anyhow, her voice gave out completely in the middle of her performance. She had to be escorted from the stage. The Tanaka people were cheesed off royally over it. And well, there are all sorts of rumors now going ‘round about why. Drugs or what not. People are suggesting she might have to cancel her concert at the Roundhouse later this month.”

  “Hmm.” Nathaniel ground his teeth. Clarissa was a witch, a powerful one, and if her voice had given out, there was a dark reason for it. He stared down into his pipe. Today might be a good day to close up shop and take a vacation. Bora Bora was nice this time of year.

  “So, you hadn’t heard. You two don’t keep in touch, then?”

  Nathaniel sighed. “No. It was a fleeting affair. She has her career and I have…” He gestured vaguely in the direction of Relics and Runes.

  “Right oh! Dodged a bullet I’d say. Bad luck to have a woman that beautiful if you don’t mind me saying so. My Minerva, rest her soul, wasn’t a looker but boy could she cook. That’s the type of woman you can rely on. Good cook. Loyal soul.”

  “If only there were more Minerva’s out there.” Nathaniel pictured the heavy-set woman with the wild gray hair who’d passed on a few years ago, and carefully kept his expression reverential.

  “God broke the mold when he made her.” Greene wiped a tear from his eye and glanced at his watch. “Is that the time? Oh dear. We’ll be opening soon. I better ready the store. Good day, Clarke.”

  “Good day.” Returning the man’s little wave, he watched him disappear inside his shop.

  Nathaniel leaned against the doorframe and closed his eyes. So, Clarissa was in town. It didn’t mean anything. And her voice giving out could have a number of causes, perhaps a virus or nodule on the vocal chords. She was probably visiting with a doctor even now. With any luck, she’d be on a plane back to America in no time.”

  He opened his eyes. Bringing his pipe to his mouth, he allowed the thick smoke to linger on his tongue before slowly and deliberately blowing a perfect ring… that morphed into heart as it floated toward the clear blue sky.

  “Fuck.”

  He whirled and fumbled with the door, setting his pipe on the counter and mumbling incoherently as he passed the books on witchcraft, Jungian theory, the tarot cards, the crystals, the grimoires and the yoga magazines to the small greenhouse of magical herbs at the back. He plucked two potted rosemary plants from the sill and hurried back to place them on either side of the frontdoor.

  “Rosemary by the garden gate…” he mumbled. Where were his cards? He needed to read his cards.

  The bell above the door rang. “Jesus Nathaniel, Rosemary? It only protects you against those who would do you harm. When have I ever wanted to hurt you?”

  Clarissa stepped across his threshold as if she’d been summoned by his earlier use of her name, like the devil or a demon. A real possibility now that he thought of it. Her blonde hair was covered in a rose-colored scarf and large dark glasses hid her blue eyes. But there was no mistaking her lithe figure and catlike grace. Or her scent. The electric hint of lilies and moss hit his noise. She reached up and removed her glasses.

  “I think I’m being followed,” she said.

  “Then you’d better be on your way. Where’s your security?”

  “Everyone wants to know what happened last night.” Her gaze roved over his face. His suit. “You look exactly the same. I mean I knew you didn’t age but my God. Is that the pocket square I bought you?”

  “I hear footsteps up the alley. You should go before the paparazzi get here.”

  She shuffled closer to him. “Hide me. Please!”

  The door opened. Cursing his own stupidity, he curled her into his arms and cloaked both of them in invisibility. He pressed a finger to his lips, although she of all people knew to remain silent.

  Two men entered the store, one tall and suave, the other looking like he’d slept on the floor of a pub the night before. Both had cameras ready. They swept through the rooms, searched behind the counter.

  “I know she came in here. I saw her.” The taller one said. He eyed the still smoking pipe. “Hello?” he called. “Anyone here?”

  The slovenly one squinted his eyes. “There’s a lower level.” The two jogged down the stairs to where Nathaniel shelved the books on fairies and druids among other things. He lowered his finger from his mouth but not the invisibility that cloaked them both.

  “You’ve got a lot of nerve coming back here after all this time,” he whispered to her.

  “I need your help.” Her lips were red. He had a strong desire to smear her lipstick.

  “No.”

  “Believe me, if I had any other choice, I would have made it. You’re the only one who can help me.”

  “No.” It was out of the question really. Not after how they’d left things.

  The two men jogged back up the stairs looking totally confused. “Gone. Just gone. The tall man said. Into thin air.”

  “Are you sure it was her?”

  Tall
man rubbed his chin. “Could’ve been a decoy, I suppose. It was odd she had no security.”

  “Look, there’s a back door,” the short man said. They rushed into the courtyard. Nathaniel waited until he could no longer hear their footsteps or their voices before he dropped the invisibility.

  “Next time I’ll let them find you,” he said, pushing her away.

  “That hurts, Nate. It really does. After all we’ve meant to each other.”

  “Ancient history.”

  “But a pleasant one. As pasts go, I’m happy with ours.”

  “Speak for yourself.” He straightened his jacket and moved behind the counter. Better. He’d prefer a lead wall between them, but the counter would have to do. “Enjoy the pleasant weather.” He gestured toward the door.

  “There’s something wrong with my voice,” she said.

  “See a doctor.”

  “It’s not that type of problem,” she whispered. The bell above the door dinged and the first customer of the day strolled in. Nathaniel greeted the man who beelined straight to the section on witchcraft.

  He shrugged. “I don’t know anything about vocal performance. But best of luck to you.” He gestured toward the door again.”

  She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, then approached the counter. “Please… Nathaniel… If you ever cared for me… If what we had ever meant anything to you… I need your help.”

  He narrowed his eyes on her. “You can do it yourself.”

  Slowly, she shook her head. “No. I. Can’t.”

  Realization dawned and he leaned forward to sniff her throat. As usual, she smelled of lilies and moss but the magical tang that always accompanied her scent was missing. Clarissa’s magical Bunsen burner was on the fritz. Interesting. Not interesting enough for him to feed his heart into the meatgrinder of allowing Clarissa back into his life, but interesting.

  Still, it was impossible not to remember the good times with her standing right in front of him. He met her gaze and held it.