Mercy Burns

by Keri Arthur

  I threw the backpacks into the car then jumped into the driver’s seat. The car started at the first turn of the key, and I reversed out with a squeal of tires.

  Luckily, Damon had stolen a car with a navigation system. I typed in my destination and settled in for a long, fast drive.

  Night still dominated the skyline by the time I neared my destination. Sunrise—and the power that came with it—was still a good few hours away. That was probably a good thing, because at least the dust being thrown up by the car on this godforsaken track wouldn’t be as noticeable. Had it been daylight, I might as well have waved a flag and said, “Come and get me.”

  According to the navigation unit, Red Rock was less than two miles away. I slowed the car, glad that a long slope divided me from the little township. I didn’t dare drive any closer, simply because I had no idea who—or what—might be waiting for me there. And even if they couldn’t see the dust, the sound of the car’s engine would surely carry in the stillness.

  Which meant, of course, that I had to walk the rest of the way. It might be only two miles, but after the long night of driving, I felt like hell. Not even the faint, buzzing promise of dawn could wipe the exhaustion from my system.

  I pulled off the road and drove the car as far as possible into a group of scrawny-looking trees. They wouldn’t hide it from anyone driving by, but a dragon flying overhead might just miss it.

  I opened the door and climbed out. The air swirled around me, warm and yet somehow stark. I reached back into the car and dragged out the backpacks, then squinted up through the scrubby branches of the trees and took a deep breath, trying to shake the cobwebs from my mind. I needed to be fully alert if I was to have any hope of getting through the next couple of hours.

  At least it was still dark. Dawn might energize me, but it would also expose me. There weren’t many places to hide out here. Besides, the warmth still hanging in the air suggested the coming day would probably be a scorcher, and while I might be draman—and therefore totally at home in heat—the human half of my soul insured I wasn’t immune to the effects of sunburn. And a plain brown dragon with sunburn was never a good look. I knew that from experience.

  Memories of the fun Rainey and I used to have at the beach as teenagers brought a smile to my lips, but it also sharpened the need to do right by her, to give her the future she so richly deserved. I closed the car door, pocketed the keys, and headed out through the trees. Once free of them, I pushed into a jog. Little clouds of dirt plumed around my shoes with every step, but I would have felt too exposed had I been running on the road.

  I was puffing by the time I neared the top of the hill. I slowed to a walk and kept my head below the ridge-line until I found another strand of trees. Only then did I step out to see what waited in the valley below.

  Red Rock was nothing but a small cluster of buildings, and looked more like a large ranch than an actual town. And maybe it was. None of the buildings were burned and I couldn’t see any bodies, but that didn’t mean we’d been successful in saving this place or the people in it. And I wasn’t about to trust the fact that it all looked deserted. For all I knew, the men behind this mad scheme were still down there, patiently waiting for an unwary draman to waltz right into their trap.

  Something I was desperate to avoid.

  As I stood there staring at the town, a frisson of awareness shot through me, and my silly heart rejoiced.

  Damon was here.

  The thought had me smiling, but the smile—and the stupid internal reaction—faded quickly into concern. Just because I sensed him didn’t mean that I could find him. And it certainly didn’t mean he was free. These men had caught him once before, and even Death could be overwhelmed by the sheer weight of numbers.

  I shifted my weight from one foot to the other and as I did so, another sensation swept over me.

  I was no longer alone on this hillside.

  And it wasn’t Damon who approached so stealthily.

  My stomach dropped and a sick sensation rose up my throat. I swallowed hard, concentrating on the approach of the stranger, my grip on the straps of the backpacks so hard my knuckles glowed white. The thick, musky heat of him got closer and closer, until his scent stained every breath and my muscles were trembling with the need to move, to react.

  But I didn’t, knowing I’d have only one chance at this.

  The hairs on the back of my neck rose and my skin burned with the awareness of danger. Just as it felt like his thick fingers were going to descend on my shoulder, I swung around, ripping a backpack away from my shoulder and swinging it at the stranger as hard as I could.

  He ducked, but not fast enough, and the pack caught him on the shoulder and sent him staggering. I had a brief glimpse of blond hair and a hawklike nose, then I dropped and swept with my leg, hitting the back of his knees hard and knocking him off his feet. He landed with a grunt that sounded more like a curse and tried to regroup and scramble to his feet, but I came at him fast, following with a punch to the face that flattened his nose and had him unconscious in an instant.

  For several seconds, I stayed low, my body trembling as I listened to the faint breeze, trying to discover whether there were any other draman trying to sneak up on me.

  But the night was free of any unusual noises, and the breeze was free from the taint of others.

  Which didn’t mean they weren’t out there.

  My gaze returned to the man at my feet. He was a big, rough-looking man, and more like the muscle than the brains. Besides, his face didn’t look familiar, and if the man I’d heard talking to Angus—the man whose voice reminded me of Seth—was the leader, then surely I would recognize him.

  The stranger had one of those small speaker microphones clipped around his ear, the talk switch clipped to the lapel of his jacket. Had he reported my presence? Surely not. The stillness of the night would carry sound too well, and I would have heard him speaking. Although I hadn’t heard him creeping up on me until it was almost too late.

  But then, some draman could move with the stealth of dragons.

  I ripped off the mike to insure he couldn’t use it, then searched through his pockets until I found a wallet. His name was Ralph Jenkins and, according to his license, he lived in Las Vegas. Given the extent of this operation, that might or might not be true. Further inspection revealed several credit cards—all in different names—and a large amount of cash. Payment for destroying a town, perhaps?

  I shoved everything back into his pocket then rose and took off his jacket, tearing it into long strips with which I tied his hands and feet. To make doubly sure he couldn’t escape, I took off his shoes and socks, then grabbed his shoelaces and tied the ends to form a long string. I roped his thumbs together then ran the laces around his neck. It might not be as deadly as Damon’s garrotes, but it wouldn’t be comfortable, either.

  With the stranger trussed as securely as possible, I touched his face and reached for his flame, sucking in the heat of him. It swirled through my body—a delicious burn of energy that replaced the reserves drained by the long night of driving. But unlike Damon, I left embers behind. I didn’t have the skill—or the desire—to completely annihilate what nature had given him.

  The stranger began to stir, his feet twitching against the ropes. I grabbed him under the armpits and, with a grunt of effort, dragged him into the shade. It wouldn’t stop him from energizing himself once dawn arrived, but hopefully I’d have my answers and be out of reach by then.

  But first, I had to find out who waited below.

  I stood back and toed his thigh. He jerked in reaction, then his eyes snapped open and his face contorted in an odd mix of anger and pain. His gaze briefly roamed the trees then fixed on me.

  “Scream and I’ll fry you.” My voice was flat and my fingers glowed in warning.

  “Who the fuck are you?” he spat, his voice a growl of low fury.

  “A question I was going to ask you,” I replied, “because I don’t for one minute trust the
name on your license.”

  “Well, that’s too bad, ain’t it, because that happens to be my real name.”

  I doubted it, but it wasn’t a point worth arguing. “Why are you here in Red Rock?”

  “Visiting kin.” He paused, and his features twisted again. This time, it was pure fury. “What the hell have you done to my flames?”

  “Doused them. And unless you answer my questions, I’ll make damn sure you never flame again.”

  His gaze met mine, his expression disbelieving and yet a touch fearful. “Draman haven’t got the skills to do that. Only dragons have.”

  “And many dragons still believe that draman can’t fly or flame.” I shrugged and reached forward, as if to touch his skin. He jerked away from me and I let my hand drop. “Answer my questions and I’ll leave you restrained but alive. Or would you rather risk your flames—and your life—in the belief I might be lying?”

  He swore under his breath, then said, “They don’t pay me enough for this sort of shit.”

  “Who doesn’t?”

  “Some fellow named Franco. That’s all I know, I swear.”

  “You contacted him through the Deca Dent nightclub?”

  Ralph grunted, which I took for a yes. “I never went there,” he added. “It was all done by phone.”

  “Is this the first town you’ve been sent to destroy?”

  He frowned. “I ain’t here to destroy no town.”

  “Then what are you here for?”

  “I’m here with the darting team.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Darting team?”

  “Yeah. They wanted to capture some muerte that was causing them trouble.” He paused and gave me the evil eye. “As well as his bitch draman. Someone obviously forgot to warn us the bitch could fight.”

  And suddenly Leon’s bravado made sense. He might have paid a hefty price, but he’d been setting us up all along. Red Rock was a trap, not a town slated for destruction. Which made me wonder if Leith’s people were okay. I had to hope so, because I couldn’t phone to find out—I didn’t have the time and there didn’t seem to be any reception in this valley.

  “And what happened to the muerte?”

  “No frigging sign of him.”

  Relief rolled through me. At least he wasn’t captured. Or dead. But it did beg the question—why was he hiding? “How many of you are there?”

  “Six.” He shrugged, the movement awkward. “I think it’s overkill. It’s only one dragon, after all.”

  Obviously, no one had ever explained to this man just what a muerte was capable of. But then, I shouldn’t have been surprised—he was draman, after all. And I hadn’t known about the muerte, either, until recently.

  “How long have you been here?”

  “We got here before eleven. Just as well I can flame, I tell you, because it gets damn cold here at night.”

  “So what did you do with all the people living here?”

  “Oh, they were eliminated weeks ago. This was one of the first places we did.”

  “What did you do with the bodies?”

  “Buried them, of course. We didn’t want their kin knowing they were dead—not that most of them had kin who would even care.” He stopped and gave a nasty grin. “Do you have kin who will care when you die, little draman?”

  I didn’t answer, but the sick feeling in my gut was growing. My gaze darted along the tree line. I couldn’t see or feel anyone approaching, but that didn’t mean they weren’t out there, getting a line on me with a rifle at this very moment.

  I licked my lips, torn between the urge to run and the need to stay and help out. Running wouldn’t stop these murderers, and it certainly wouldn’t save Rainey’s soul.

  And I had less than two days left.

  I closed my eyes against the brief surge of panic, then said, “Why did Franco have it marked as un-cleansed on his wall map?”

  “How else was he going to set the trap?” He shifted again. “Listen, lady, I’m being helpful here. You could at least make me more comfortable. Undo some ropes or something.”

  “Sorry, but I’m not that stupid.”

  He swore at me—long, loud, and inventively. I couldn’t help smiling. “An interesting combination of words, but it isn’t going to help. When did Franco contact you?”

  “He didn’t actually contact me. He contacted Tomi.”

  I rolled my eyes. No wonder no one knew who the head guy was—he was using too many intermediaries. “And Tomi is?”

  “The guy who hires the rest of us.”

  “So what time did this Tomi contact you?”

  “About six thirty. It took us a while to collect everything we needed.”

  Then it must have been Seth who’d contacted Tomi, not Leon, because by six thirty, Leon was well on his way to being dumped somewhere deep in the Pacific.

  My gaze darted around, and again I saw nothing but darkness. But my unease was growing.

  “So you’ve had no personal dealings with Franco—or anybody else?”

  He shrugged. This time, the movement jerked the shoelaces against his neck, leaving a red mark. He glared at me balefully. “I heard some guy speaking on the phone a couple of times, when I was with Tomi.”

  “Was it Franco?”

  “No. Franco’s accent falls in and out. This guy’s didn’t.”

  I had no idea what Hannish sounded like, but if he and Seth had known each other for a long time, it was possible that Seth was imitating Hannish’s accent. He’d always aspired to be more than he was.

  “Ralph, what the hell are you doing out there?”

  The voice was soft but clear. I jerked around, my heart racing and flames leaping across my fingertips before I realized the words were coming from the speaker at his ear. I glanced at my captive. “Who’s that?”

  “The boss. Tomi.”

  I picked up the speaker microphone. “I want you to answer him. Give me away—or even make me suspect you’ve given me away—and I will kill you.”

  His gaze met mine. Judging. Weighing. I have no idea what he saw in my expression, but after a moment, he nodded. I pressed the switch and held the mike near his mouth.

  “I’m investigating the engine noise, as ordered,” Ralph said.

  “And?”

  “Nothing. Must have been just the wind.”

  “Then get your ass back into position. The muerte is on his way, apparently.”

  “Will do.”

  I released the switch, ripped the speaker mike apart, then tossed the separate pieces as far away as I could.

  “How long will it be before he starts missing you?”

  I didn’t actually expect an honest answer, and I didn’t get one.

  “Twenty minutes. Maybe more,” he said, his lie practically staining the air.

  Meaning I probably had a few minutes rather than twenty.

  “You’ve been extremely helpful,” I said, and with no warning, hit him as hard as I could. His chin snapped back and he was out before he even realized what was happening.

  I checked his makeshift ropes a final time to insure they were still all tight, then sucked in the heat of his refueling flames, leaving him with embers and me with another few vital minutes.

  Then I rose and made my way down the hill, keeping it between myself and Red Rock. I ran quickly, leaping over rocks and fallen trees, my senses twitching with awareness but finding nothing. Only bugs and silence.

  I looped around to the back of the town then stopped, my breath rasping past my lips and sweat beginning to trickle down my spine.

  I raised my face to the sky for a moment, letting the distant energy of the dawn yet to come caress my skin.

  What the hell was I going to do now?

  There were five men out there, and I had no idea where Damon was. I knew he was here, but not much more than that. It was possible that Ralph had been lying, and that Damon was inside and captive—or even dead—and they were all waiting for my arrival. Hell, for all I knew, Ralph had sent
a coded message to his boss. His words had seemed innocent enough, but that didn’t mean they actually were.

  I blew out a breath, then shrugged the backpacks off my shoulder and tucked them securely into the broken remains of a tree trunk. It wouldn’t hold up to a concerted search, but at least it was hidden from a casual glance. The netbook and the stuff I’d stolen from Leon, were as safe as I could make them.

  I glanced toward the top of the hill, feeling like I was about to step into a dark void, then took a deep breath and moved forward. Once near the ridge, I dropped to my knees and crawled until I could once again see the valley below.

  Red Rock remained quiet.

  No smoke drifted from any of the chimneys, and there was no hint that anyone was down there at all. And for all I knew, there wasn’t. The other five men might have been in the hills like me, watching and waiting.

  But I had no choice. I had to go down there and see what was waiting for me, whether that was Damon or a trap.

  I scanned the hillside and spotted a line of scrubby trees sweeping most of the way downhill. I wriggled back down the slope and then ran across to those trees, darting from trunk to trunk, keeping to the shadows as much as possible. My heart was racing and my stomach churning, but I made it to the last of the trees without being caught.

  Whether I’d been seen was another matter entirely, and it wasn’t something I was going to know until someone actually jumped out at me.

  I peeked out from behind the tree trunk. A barren space of about twenty yards separated me from the back of one of the old wooden buildings and deep shadows. And yet it seemed as exposed as a field in bright sunshine.

  Nerves—who needed them?

  I licked my lips and drew in a breath that remained free of any taint of danger. After a silent count to three, I raced forward. Out of cover, into the open. And it suddenly felt as if the eyes of the world were on me.

  With fear giving my feet wings, I flew across the small strip of land separating me from the deeper shadows of the building.

  I was almost there, almost safe, when I felt the sting in my neck.