Dragon's Kiss (The DragonFate Novels Book 2)

by Deborah Cooke

  “Do you know for sure?”

  “No,” Bree made the admission with obvious reluctance. “I haven’t been back to Valhalla since. I reached him too late. I didn’t want to go to the hall and feast without him there.”

  “But he was there.”

  “Apparently.” Bree sighed. “I’m kind of glad I didn’t see that either, if she wasn’t lying. Maybe ignorance is bliss.”

  Kristofer didn’t reply to that. She’d never sounded very blissful about Siegfried.

  “You don’t trust her,” she said.

  “I tend not to trust Valkyries who try to claim my soul against my will.”

  “She was under a spell,” Bree insisted with heat. “She couldn’t help it.”

  “Maybe.” He couldn’t fault her loyalty, that was for sure.

  “We should go back for her...”

  Kristofer wasn’t going to even consider that. “Not on your life.”

  “Then you can put me down and I’ll go back alone.”

  “So she can finish you off? I don’t think so.”

  “You don’t get to decide!”

  “No, but I can protect you until you have all the information,” he said. “This whole situation with Kara reminds me of beguiling. If you want to go after her once I tell you that, then I’ll put you down.” He really hoped he could convince her to rethink her commitment to Kara.

  “Beguiling,” she mused. “That’s the flames-in-your-eyes hypnosis trick.”

  “That’s the one.” Kris chose his words with care. “What if Maeve’s spells are similar? What if she had to find a kernel of resentment in Kara to turn your sister against you? What if the spell wouldn’t have worked if your sister really was your ally?”

  “Or it might have taken more magick to work.”

  “Maybe. What if magick works like beguiling, in that it’s easier to cast a spell for a possibility that’s already more probable.”

  “You’re good at this.” Bree sounded impressed.

  “I like riddles.”

  “So, by your thinking, Kara already resented me but hid it, and Maeve’s spell amplified her secret.”

  “Exactly.” He paused as Bree considered that. “Who would be able to seize Maeve’s magick? Or did she give it away?”

  “I don’t know who could take it, but I’ll guarantee that she’d never ever give it away.”

  “Who else has magick?”

  “I didn’t think there was anyone other than Maeve anymore, but it seems like that’s suddenly changed.”

  “Who had it before? When it first appeared?”

  “Sorcerers and magicians. Sometimes witches.” Bree frowned. “They used to say that dragons had the most powerful magick of all.”

  “Like that one you hunted?”

  Bree nodded quickly. “Yes, you’re right. He had magick.” She seemed to think about it. “He might have had the only magick in those days, actually.”

  “You don’t remember?”

  “I’m not sure I knew. But there was a glow about his hoard, now that I think about it. I thought there was fire inside the mountain, or maybe a volcano vent, but it could have been magick...”

  “That red glow.”

  “Or sparks. Sometimes, it looks like red lightning.”

  Kristofer nodded. “That’s like darkfire.” He flew more quickly then, his wings beating the air with new purpose.

  “What’s darkfire?”

  “A force recognized by my kind. It brings unpredictability and chaos.”

  “Making unlikely possibilities happen,” Bree whispered.

  “It burns like blue-green lightning and was trapped in crystals, once upon a time.”

  “I see the similarities. Maybe darkfire is dragon magick.”

  “That’s what I’m thinking.”

  “Who commands it?”

  Kristofer heard his excitement echoed in her voice. “No one anymore. It was all used up in the Dragon’s Tail Wars. But if magick has anything in common with darkfire, there’s one Pyr we should talk to.”

  “Who?”

  “Rafferty Powell, the descendant of the Pyr who snared the darkfire in the first place. Try to remember everything you knew about that dragon you hunted. It might be useful in figuring this out. We’ll go to his lair.”

  “What’s so special about a lair?”

  “It’s a sanctuary and a haven, a place of privacy and comfort. Only the most trusted individuals enter a Pyr’s lair.” He knew his yearning for his own lair was in his voice.

  “I’m going to guess that your lair isn’t like my apartment,” Bree said.

  Kristofer laughed. “Not one bit,” he acknowledged.

  “And it’s on your land in Vermont.”

  “I like the clever women,” he mused and she laughed. That was progress. “Watch behind me for commercial aircraft,” he instructed. “I have to get us through the holding and approach patterns for Heathrow without anyone seeing us. There aren’t many flights at this hour, so we have a chance.”

  “And then?”

  “And then I have to find a place in London where no one is likely to see a dragon land, or be surprised by it.”

  “A cemetery?” Bree suggested. “It is near Halloween. Or a park.”

  “The park beside Highgate,” Kristofer said with satisfaction. “It’s close to Rafferty’s place, too. Great idea.”

  “I keep hearing that we’re a team,” Bree said with humor. “Just trying to do my part.”

  Kristofer chuckled then began to descend into the clouds.

  Rafferty Powell was enjoying his first cup of coffee and browsing through the news on his laptop. It was still dark outside the windows of his study—he could have said it was still night. It promised to be a windy and rainy autumn day in London. He’d lit a fire in the grate and left the drapes pulled, letting his mate Melissa sleep. She’d come home late from an assignment the night before. Their adopted daughter, Isabelle, was away at school. He heard the floors creak overhead as Melissa got up and went into the kitchen to put on a new pot of coffee for her.

  It was early for her, but traveling always messed with her body rhythms. He heard the water in the shower and was tempted to meet her there, but decided to wait for her instead. She was likely to still be tired.

  Melissa came into the kitchen moments later, her hair still wet, and stopped to give him a kiss. The coffee maker sputtered as it finished its cycle. “Perfect timing, as always,” she said. “I could get used to this.”

  “I thought you had by now,” he teased and she laughed as she wrapped her arms around him. They exchanged a kiss that was almost as potent as the first ones they’d shared in the light of the firestorm.

  “You’re right. I’m spoiled and I love it.”

  “Get the story?”

  “All in the can. We’ll have to edit today, but the main work is done.” She yawned and he started to rise. She touched his shoulder for him to stay seated. “I’ll get it and meet you in your library. I can smell the fire and I bet it’s cozy in there.”

  “A perfect haven.”

  “Sounds great.”

  Rafferty returned to the study and stoked up the fire, adding another log. A moment later, Melissa joined him, her hands wrapped around her big mug of coffee. She perched on the arm of his favorite chair and peered at his laptop. “What’s new in the world since I went to sleep?”

  “In four whole hours.”

  “Crazy times. Anything could have happened.”

  It was true enough. “Do you know Maeve O’Neill? She’s a reporter, too.”

  “Please,” Melissa said with a roll of her eyes. “She’s not anything of the sort.”

  He bit back a smile that his mate was starting to sound a bit British. “What do you mean?”

  “She works for that online tabloid. She’s not a journalist and she’s not even a reporter. A gossip columnist might be closer.” She took a long drink of coffee. “Why?”

  “It says she’s missing.”
<
br />   Melissa leaned down to read the article. “Wasn’t she the one trying to stir up the public against the Pyr during Sloane’s firestorm?”

  Rafferty frowned. “I think you’re right.”

  “No loss there, then.”

  “Melissa!”

  “Well, you can hardly count her as someone to be defended when she was trying to get you all killed.” She pointed at the screen. “What’s that? The story in the sidebar that just updated?”

  Rafferty clicked, then stared at a photograph of a dragon at night, breathing a plume of flames at the ground. His scales were peridot, edged in gold.

  Rafferty’s heart sank. He glanced at his phone, fully expecting to hear from Erik, even though it was six hours earlier in Chicago.

  Maybe the leader of the Pyr was busy calling the dragon shifter in question first.

  “Anyone you know?” Melissa asked, probably confident that he did know who it was.

  “It looks like Kristofer. One of the Dragon Legion.” Rafferty scrolled down to the article.

  “Oh right. You mentored him for a while. I’m not sure I saw his dragon form. Good-looking guy.” She sipped her coffee. “Tall.”

  Rafferty nodded. “I didn’t know he was in Ireland, though.”

  “Gorgeous scales,” Melissa noted with approval. “Really outstanding.”

  Rafferty gave her a look that spoke volumes and she smiled playfully.

  “It’s the gold. I’m more partial to opal than peridot, though.” Rafferty was opal and gold in his dragon form. “And look at his agility,” she continued. “That’s a terrific shot. He looks so powerful and vital, exactly as a dragon should be.”

  “He can’t be much more than four hundred years old,” Rafferty said gruffly.

  “So, he has agility but not wisdom,” Melissa said, kissing his cheek. “I know which is more sexy.”

  Rafferty’s phone buzzed, saving him from making an answer. It was a text message from Erik Sorensson, leader of the Pyr.

  “Erik should live in Manhattan, not Chicago,” Melissa said lightly. “The Pyr who never sleeps in the city that never sleeps.” She went back to refill her coffee, and he heard her open the fridge.

  Rafferty knew Erik was annoyed, so he called him back on the land line. Erik answered in the middle of the first ring. “I thought you might be asleep,” he said.

  “I had a bad feeling,” Erik said tersely. He had the gift of foresight, which sometimes must seem like more of a curse. Erik’s British accent was stronger, a sure sign of his level of irritation. “What on earth do you think Kristofer’s doing?”

  Rafferty studied the image and winced. “Scorching the earth.”

  “My thought exactly. How did he even get there from New York?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Are you aware that Hadrian, Rhys, and Theo are missing, too?”

  “No.” Rafferty sat straighter in concern. “Since when?”

  “Monday night. Alasdair called with some story about vampires and the Others, whoever they are, and some bar. He went on about Kristofer following the spark of his firestorm through a wall, and the other three Pyr following to back him up. None of them came back.”

  “Through a wall?” Rafferty echoed.

  “It makes no sense,” Erik said impatiently. “The connection was bad and Alasdair said he’d call back on a land line, but he didn’t. I was hoping it was because the others had returned, then I saw this image.”

  Rafferty was troubled. He knew Kristofer a little better than the other Dragon Legion Warriors because of that mentorship. They both shared an affinity for the element of earth and he was fond of Kristofer. He was honest and worked hard. “There must be a good explanation,” he said and Erik harrumphed. “At least he wasn’t photographed in both forms.”

  “So he’s not in violation of the Covenant. There’s that,” Erik agreed grudgingly. The Covenant was a promise the Pyr made to Erik that they wouldn’t let any human see them in both forms, or in the process of changing form. “But there’s no firestorm light. Where’s his mate?”

  “He’s carrying something or someone,” Rafferty said, peering at the screen. He increased the size of the image but the resolution wasn’t good enough to show him more. “Maybe the firestorm is consummated already.”

  “That would be one thing going right.” Erik’s voice rose with exasperation. “But where are the other three? I tried to call Kristofer but it just went to voice mail. I don’t like being in the dark.”

  “Can’t you sense his presence?” Rafferty knew that Erik could sometimes tell the relative location of the other Pyr.

  “It’s so strange,” Erik admitted. “After Alasdair called, I tried. Kristofer’s presence was shadowy, as if he was behind a veil of some kind. Part of what made me look at the news was a sudden awareness of his presence again. I can’t explain it better than that.”

  Behind a veil. Rafferty read the article again, wondering.

  “He might come to you,” Erik said. “That’s why I called. Could you let me know if he does, please?”

  “Why me?”

  “You’re comparatively close to Ireland, and he trusts you.”

  Rafferty nodded. “I’ll let you know.”

  “And there’s another thing,” Erik said. “I saw this verse in the Dragon’s Egg the other night. I’m still not sure what it means. Maybe you will have some ideas.”

  “A prophecy?”

  “I’m not sure. It doesn’t seem to predict anything, but it talks about darkfire. I’ll send it to you.”

  Rafferty agreed and they ended the call. He had time to tell Melissa what he’d learned before the doorbell rang. Rafferty inhaled deeply, then smiled with relief. He strode down the hall and opened the door, only to find Kristofer standing on the stoop. The younger Pyr was soaked to the skin and he was supporting a pretty young woman with long auburn hair. She was pale and there was strain in her expression. She took a step and looked like her knees were going to give out but Kristofer swept her into his arms. His expression was so impatient that Rafferty guessed he’d offered earlier and she’d declined.

  Nothing like a stubborn mate to add spice to a firestorm.

  “Need a haven?” Rafferty asked with a smile.

  Kristofer nodded. “Maybe some advice, too.” He nodded at the woman. “This is my friend, Rafferty Powell. Rafferty, this is Bree, my mate.”

  “I’m not,” she protested, but Kristofer gave her a hard look and she fell silent.

  Rafferty thought that was interesting. It was obvious that if there had been a firestorm, it had been satisfied since no light glowed between them. To his thinking, Bree’s protest made little sense but maybe Kristofer was still trying to win her heart.

  Rafferty knew a bit about reluctant mates.

  Maybe that was why Kristofer had brought her to London.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked, focusing on the critical details first.

  “Her wings were torn off,” Kristofer said as he carried her into the foyer. Rafferty locked the door even as he tried to make sense of that. “Her back is a wreck.”

  Wings?

  “Thank you for that,” Bree said, but Rafferty could see that she was in pain.

  “I thought some of Sloane’s preparations might work,” Kristofer said, referring to the Apothecary of the Pyr. He met Rafferty’s gaze and the older Pyr saw how worried he was.

  If Bree had shifting powers like the Pyr, Sloane’s healing salves might help.

  “She’s a Valkyrie,” Kristofer said, guessing Rafferty’s question before he asked it.

  Rafferty tried to hide his surprise and knew he probably failed.

  He waved Kristofer up the stairs. “Take the front bedroom. I hope you weren’t seen landing. Erik has already called about the pictures of you over Ireland.”

  Kristofer swore but didn’t slow down. “I landed in Waterlow Park. It’s pretty foggy this morning, so maybe no one saw.”

  “I’ll take a walk over there and
maybe do some beguiling,” Rafferty said.

  Melissa emerged from the study then and followed Kristofer, introducing herself to Bree. At the top of the stairs, she brushed past Kristofer to show the way. Rafferty went to get his small collection of Sloane’s unguents and salves from the small fridge in the kitchen.

  “Do I smell coffee?” Bree asked and Rafferty smiled.

  If Kristofer’s mate was interested in coffee, that had to be a good sign of her recovery.

  Just as Rafferty entered the kitchen, he spied a shadow in the doorway of the library. It was there for only a moment, but long enough for him to see it and catch his breath.

  His grandfather’s ghost.

  What had Pwyll come to tell him?

  His email chimed that he had a new message and he guessed that it was the prophecy from Erik.

  Once he read it, he looked for Pwyll again, wondering.

  Bree felt such relief in entering Rafferty’s lair. That impression of being safe and sheltered, of having found a sanctuary, was so intense that she wished she could weep happy tears. She couldn’t insist any longer to Kris that she could walk. He felt her waver and scooped her right up. That she could feel so strongly in the home of a Pyr she didn’t even know also increased her interest in visiting Kris’s lair.

  She might never leave.

  She was impressed not only that Kris had friends, but that he could show up unannounced with her and be welcomed. Bree was painfully aware that she had no friends, and she was far from certain that even Kara would have been so helpful as this Pyr and his mate.

  That made her wonder about vulnerability. She’d always thought it was a bad thing, but the interdependence that she saw between the Pyr made her yearn for something she’d never had. Was immortality worth the loneliness that accompanied it?

  Rafferty was broad-shouldered and a little more sturdy than Kris. Bree’s sense was that he was older, although she didn’t know for sure. His hair was dark and long, and his eyes were filled with understanding. He didn’t seem to be very talkative, but was even more watchful than Kris. When he did speak, his voice was deep and slow, and even the sound of it was reassuring. Melissa was slender and mortal, and appeared to be efficient, organized and friendly. She looked faintly familiar to Bree, but Bree couldn’t figure out why.