She didn’t want to see Kris die, because she knew this dragon would draw out the torment.
She spoke the charm a third time, hoping against hope.
Suddenly, the bottom of the ocean shook. Bubbles rose on all sides of her and the water became cloudy as well as dark.
Then an enormous eye opened in the rock right in front of her. It wasn’t rock. It was the dragon’s head. She saw his nostril open and a stream of bubbles rise to the surface. His lip curled back and she saw his great teeth.
She was pulled from the ocean as the dead dragon raised his head. It was dripping with shells and mollusks, with algae and sea plants. He tossed back his head, flinging debris in all directions, then gave a groan that shook the ground. The water crested in huge waves all around him and the wind seemed to scream.
“Where is the gem of the hoard?” demanded Bree’s captor.
“Stolen,” Blazion confessed, his voice even deeper than that of his brother. “Lost.”
“But the gem of the hoard commands the magick!” bellowed Embron. He flung Bree to the ground beside Kris and seized his brother.
Bree got to her feet, wary. There was nowhere to run on this rugged stretch of coast, and no chance of her escaping with Kris. She wasn’t going to leave him.
The gem of the hoard commands the magick. Bree wondered if she would know it if she saw it. She wondered if she had seen it, and was curious what else Blazion would say.
The spell was already fading, though, and Blazion’s eyes began to close. “Who stole it?” demanded Embron as he shook his brother. “Name the thief! Brother, tell me!”
But Blazion slid bonelessly from his brother’s grasp, slipping below the surface of the raging sea with what might have been a sigh of relief.
Embron hauled his brother to the surface and shook him but it was too late. The spell’s power was spent. He flung down the corpse of Blazion, then spun to snatch at Bree. “This is your fault,” he snarled. “Cast your spell again.”
“It only works once,” Bree said. “And he’s been dead a long time.”
“Do it!” he raged and Bree performed the spell again. It had no effect, just as she’d warned him, but Embron wasn’t used to being denied. He reached for Kris, apparently intending to convince her to try harder. Kris suddenly lunged into the air, evading Embron’s grasp, and breathed fire right in the ancient dragon’s face.
Bree wanted to cheer.
Kristofer was exhausted and sore, and he winced before he opened his eyes. He’d been ripped open and dragged through the sea, and he was far from being in his best fighting form. Salt water stung but he needed to know the worst. He opened his eyes cautiously.
The dragon prince perched on the coast as the elements raged around him. He was as dark as midnight, his scales like ancient rock, and looked more primitive than any dragon Kristofer had ever seen. His eyes burned bright yellow, as if lit by his inner fire, and the very sight of him was terrifying. Kristofer saw the dragon prince plunge Bree into the sea. Outrage that she should be so mistreated filled him with new strength.
Kristofer saw the dead dragon rise but couldn’t hear his words, because the wind whipped them away. The waves were lashing against the coast and the sky was in turmoil. The rain beat down like cold pellets and the dark clouds roiled overhead. The sea churned and the dead dragon collapsed back into the water, launching massive waves. The dragon prince roared, clearly unhappy with whatever reply he’d received, and Kristofer knew that Bree would be compelled to pay the price.
He watched her perform the charm again, and remembered her saying that it only worked once. He mustered his strength and was ready when the dragon prince snatched at him. He bounded into the air, making the most of having surprise on his side, and raged fire into the old dragon’s face.
Embron bellowed with fury and took flight, flinging Bree to the ground. He snatched at Kristofer and they locked talons in the traditional pre-amble to a dragon battle. They slashed their tails at each other and breathed fire, tumbling end over end as they grappled for supremacy.
“You have no right to defy me,” the old dragon snarled, and Kristofer managed to strike him with the full weight of his tail. His foe grunted and his eyes blazed. “You owe me your loyalty, minion,” he insisted and Kristofer laughed.
“Not when you attack my destined mate.” He ripped one claw free and managed to deck the old dragon.
“Mate,” the dragon repeated, his voice dropping lower as he mused. He pivoted quickly, inverting them so that Kristofer was upside down in the air, then dropped Kristofer into the sea. Kristofer sputtered and struggled, then kicked his opponent hard in the crotch. The old dragon grunted, then cast Kristofer into the sky.
The old dragon came after him like a missile, and snatched his claws. “I have missed a good dragon fight,” the old dragon said in old-speak. “First, we taunt and test each other’s merit.”
Kristofer remembered his father talking about this ritual. His father said that dragon warriors had exchanged riddles in the preamble to the fight, to test each other’s wits. He spoke first, seizing the opportunity.
“What always runs but never walks,
often murmurs, never talks,
has a bed but never sleeps,
has a mouth but never eats?”
The old dragon’s eyes glinted. He repeated the verse, then laughed aloud. “Water!” he cried and thumped Kristofer with his tail to punctuate his victory. Then his old-speak rang out.
“Voiceless it cries,
Wingless flutters,
Toothless bites,
Mouthless mutters!”
His tone was triumphant and his eyes shone with confidence, but Kristofer knew this riddle.
“Wind!” he shouted. He bent the old dragon’s claw back until something cracked, then his opponent twisted from his grasp like a serpent.
Kristofer then realized both riddles referred to items in Bree’s kit. She’d had a river rock, a feather, and she had a piece of amber. He decided to go with that.
“A prized gem that is not a stone,
Not a crystal or a bone.
With heat, it flows like molten gold
What’s snared inside will never grow old.”
It wasn’t a bad riddle, considering that he’d made it up on the spot, and it seemed to confuse his opponent. They battled back and forth over the sea, their strength evenly matched with their claws locked.
Suddenly the old dragon roared with fury. “Amber!” he shouted in old-speak, slashing across Kristofer’s open wound with a long talon. The pain stunned Kristofer but he leaped on the old dragon’s back as the fight began in earnest. He slashed with his claw at the root of one wing and the old dragon bellowed in pain. He seized Kristofer, ripped his wound wider, then hurled Kristofer through the air, casting him out to sea.
Kristofer struggled to change his course: not only was the old dragon strong, but the wind was against him. He saw his opponent head toward Bree, who stood defiantly on the shore, the wind whipping around her. She was counting on her Valkyrie invulnerability to defend her, because she had nothing else. Kristofer saw the old dragon take a deep breath and knew what his opponent would do.
He had to stop him, but he’d never reach Bree in time.
There was only one thing to do. His wings beating hard as he raced toward Bree, Kristofer traced the rune for Sowulo in the air. The symbol shone against the darkness for a moment. He might have written the rune in liquid fire, which was fitting given his intention. He flew hard toward the old dragon, reciting the Old Norse charm that Bree had taught him and hoping he got it right.
He snatched the wings of the old dragon just as that beast exhaled. If he had breathed dragonfire, Bree would have been caught in the flow of flames, but instead there was just the old dragon’s breath. It raged like a hurricane, leaving Bree staggering from its onslaught all the same. Kristofer felt his opponent’s surprise.
Bree laughed then, daring him to attack. “I’m a Valkyrie!” she
shouted with pride. “Bad breath won’t finish me.”
The old dragon raised his claws and dove toward her. Kristofer knew he’d been forgotten for the moment because Bree had deliberately distracted the old dragon. He dropped from above and latched onto the old dragon’s back. His opponent began to thrash but Kristofer sliced right through the tendons in one of his wings. Blood ran from the wound, the wing went limp, and the old dragon spun and struggled.
Once again, he and Kristofer locked their talons to fight, but this time, as they rolled end over end, his blood ran over them both. Kristofer shook it out of his eyes, and realized as the old dragon’s grip tightened like a vice on him, that he would still lose. The old dragon had more strength than him.
He had to trick the beast to save himself and Bree.
“Old dragon,” he said, his tone mocking. “You could never triumph over me. You’re nearly as dead as your brother.”
“I’ve nearly finished you already,” the dragon snarled, and punctuated his words with a slash of his tail that stole Kristofer’s breath away.
“And how smart would that be, since I’m the only one who knows where the gem of the hoard is?”
The old dragon hesitated. “How do you know this?”
“It was my family lore,” Kristofer lied. “My father told me and his father told him. I was born not far from here, where dragons told tales of the old times to their sons.”
“You lie,” the old dragon snarled.
“My father told of Siegfried coming to your brother’s lair with his companion and how the companion was a fool.”
“No one knows that tale any longer,” the old dragon whispered, but Kristofer heard his doubt.
“He told of the companion paying the price for his folly. He told of Siegfried learning the lore of Sigrdrifa to conquer your brother, and he told of Siegfried taking the gem of the hoard and hiding it.”
“This is why you talked of amber!” the old dragon roared aloud. “Where is it?” he demanded, giving Kristofer a shake.
The gem of the hoard was amber.
Was that why Bree had that piece in her pouch?
“I could tell you, with the right motivation,” he taunted in old-speak.
“Freedom for you and your mate,” the old dragon guessed and Kristofer smiled.
“Maybe you’re not so dumb after all.”
Then Bree whistled. She tossed something in the air, then caught it. It flashed and Kristofer guessed it was that piece of amber.
“Looking for something?” she shouted, taunting as well as a dragon ready to fight to the death. “I picked this up in Blazion’s hoard a long time ago.”
The old dragon roared, flung Kristofer aside and raced for Bree.
Kristofer lunged after his opponent, and tried to tear the other wing free. He made a good nick before the old dragon bellowed, spun, and ripped across Kristofer’s gut with all the talons on one hand. Kristofer’s wound was expanded and he was sure he’d been nearly sliced in half. He fell, unable to do anything else, dimly aware that Bree had hurled the piece of amber into the sea.
Her Valkyrie strength was impressive. The stone flew far, farther than even he could see. It was lost to sight in the wind, though he knew it must have splashed into the sea eventually.
The old dragon cursed and dove into the ocean after the gem, and Kristofer fell into the surf, his chin on the coast and his body in the shallows. The wind and water whipped around him, pummeling him when he had no ability to fight back. He didn’t have the strength to move at all, and when he saw the shimmer of blue, he knew it was over. He rotated between forms, unable to stop himself, and his eyes closed.
He’d learned from Storme to count his blessings and Kristofer had one big one: he’d known Bree.
The old dragon disappeared into the sea and the weather immediately began to change. The wind slowed and the rain wasn’t as cold. The waves didn’t beat against the shore anymore. The storm was easing, but Bree didn’t care.
She ran to Kris’s side, fearing it was too late. He’d shifted between forms and was on his belly in his human form, half in the sea. His eyes were closed and he’d stopped shimmering. His breath was so shallow that each inhalation might be his last.
She couldn’t bear to lose him forever.
She didn’t want to lose him at all.
She tugged him out of the water and rolled him to his back, hating that he was so unresponsive. She framed his face in her shaking hands, then whispered his name. “Hey, Kris,” she said, her voice hoarse, and to her relief, his eyes opened a little.
The blue of his eyes wasn’t as vehement as she wanted it to be.
He tried to smile, but his lip cracked and he winced instead. “Hey, Sigrdrifa,” he replied, his voice a shadow of its former volume. “We were a good team.”
Bree swallowed, knowing she had only one choice. She gave him a little shake. “Do you welcome me, warrior?” she asked and this time Kris did smile.
“Always, Sigrdrifa.” He forced his eyes open and met her gaze, his conviction clear. “I will welcome you forever.” His eyes closed then, as if he couldn’t stop them from doing so.
Bree feared that once again she might be too late. She bent and touched her lips to his, her heart pounding when she felt his mouth soften in welcome.
Then she held him close and kissed him with all her heart, using her powers to claim his soul.
Valhalla was a compromise, but it was better than nothing at all.
Sylvia thought Bones looked even more disreputable than it had the week before. It was really crowded, probably because Halloween was on a Thursday and people were inclined to party. Sebastian escorted her into the crowded bar, his grip firm on her elbow. He’d let her go home after he’d verified that the portals to Fae were sealed and Maeve was on the other side, but he was always around. She’d only missed two days of work while trapped at Reliquary, and had managed to convince her boss that she’d been too sick to even call in.
She didn’t even want to think about the night in the Intrepid with Sebastian, much less the two days and nights in the safe below the antique shop. She couldn’t remember events clearly, which was probably a good thing—if half of her dreams had any root in reality, she and Sebastian had had a really wild time.
Had she really been so uninhibited? Had he really made love to her exactly as in that dream? Or was it all an illusion, meant to keep her quiet? Sylvia hated that she didn’t know. She hated even more that she still felt so attracted to him.
He wouldn’t talk about it, much less explain his choices, so there’d been a charged silence between them ever since leaving Reliquary.
On the upside, she still had the book, and had spent a lot of time reading it while at work the past few days. No one had tried to steal it, either.
On the downside, her aunt Eithne was gone. She’d left a note that she was going away but it was very strange. Eithne never went anywhere so it seemed improbable that she would suddenly decide to take a vacation.
She’d heard Caleb’s dog Loki howling in the apartment on the first floor both nights that she’d slept at home on the sixth floor and been well aware of Sebastian’s annoyance at the dog as he loitered on her balcony, watching over her.
And now Bones again. It was noisy, both from shouted conversations and the dance music, but she could identify the Others by their auras. There was a group of them in the far corner, including Caleb. She headed toward them, Sebastian close behind her. There were some she didn’t recognize, whose auras were dragons, and they seemed to be the focus of the Others’ attention.
The one who looked ex-military, the grim one who might have been Greek, flicked a glance at the book in her hand and Sylvia gripped it more tightly.
Caleb ushered them into a back room, maybe used for private parties. It was marginally quieter there. The three dragon guys, Caleb and Murray, the short tattooed owner of the bar, joined them. When the door closed, Sylvia realized that Micah was there, having arrived silently, acc
ompanied by a pretty woman with blond hair. That she’d moved as silently and swiftly as Micah—and that Sebastian was apparently unhappy with her presence—hinted that she was a vampire, too.
“Why not tell everyone?” Sebastian murmured. “We could get some flashing lights for the book, maybe a siren or two, just to make sure no one misses it.”
Caleb shot Sebastian a chilling glance and the vampire fell silent, but he folded his arms across his chest. Sylvia was sure he was biting his tongue and figured it was good for him.
“I am Drake Stephanos,” said the dragon guy that Sylvia had noticed first. He indicated his two companions. “This is Balthasar Marino and Arach Knight. We come on behalf of our fellow Pyr.”
The ghost dragon over Drake’s head was grey and black, and looked more ancient than those of his fellow dragon shifters. Balthasar’s dragon was yellow and Arach’s was turquoise, and both glittered, as if made of faceted gems.
“Caleb Davison. I speak for my kind, the Lucans. As discussed, I believe the only way for us to triumph is to work together.”
“It’s the only way we’ll survive,” Murray added.
“We’ve lost four of our kind already,” Drake said, his tone grim. “We need to know the entire story.”
Caleb indicated Sylvia with a gesture. “You’ll want to see the book.”
Sylvia was reluctant to surrender the book to anyone but she knew the Pyr had to see it. She handed over the book to Drake, unable to keep herself from hovering beside him.
Drake seemed to understand. He gave her a tight smile. “I recognize that you are the guardian of this volume,” he said quietly. “I give you my word that I will return it, and if anyone intervenes with that, I will do my best to rectify the situation.”
He certainly sounded dependable. Sylvia nodded and relaxed just a little.
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