So, really, she wasn’t surprised to find a hacker hiding in suburban Taos.
Though “suburban” wasn’t the correct word. “Enclave” felt closer to what they drove into. Or at least this part of Taos felt like an enclave. Most of the homes they passed had been small and flat, all low to the ground and most the same color as the sand. They fit in, part of the land itself, like they’d always been here.
Some of them probably had—and were now the points of reality holding the ghosts to this world.
Rysa flicked the headlights down from bright to normal as they approached another mini-community within the sprawl of Taos County. Derek continued to look out the window and not at her. He’d said nothing since she commented that she knew what he was thinking. She could read it in his body language, even if her seers argued and gave her nothing. Absolutely nothing, like he wasn’t there. Still, she knew—he would hit his breaking point soon and all his accommodating and caring for her would stop.
She’d be on her own.
All the weirdness around him at the hospital and in Branson—the slipping irreality—had vanished, but her ability to see Derek in the what-was-is-will-be hadn’t returned, probably due to her fatigue.
Outside the car, the New Mexico brush rolled by. She’d never seen so many murals in her life. So much public art. This place burst with color—most of it muted, but still visible even under the street lights. And patterns. And shapes. It was as if the locals had a dragon of their own and spent their days drawing pictures of the beast.
A beast like her Dragon, not the other one. A beautiful beast.
Rysa’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. Derek missed his wife. It showed in his shoulders and cheeks whenever he talked to AnnaBelinda on the phone.
She, on the other hand, would be perfectly content to never see AnnaBelinda again.
Rysa turned up the next road. She followed the van, using her seers like a GPS. They worked just as well, she’d found, and it gave her an opportunity to practice. Plus her voices weren’t nearly as annoying as a GPS robo-voice.
She glanced over at Derek. He’d dropped his hat into the backseat and now ran one hand over his scalp. She should probably play nice with her soon-to-be brother-in-law. “We’ll stay here for a while. When she arrives, you can spend some time with your wife.” Ahead of them, the van slowed and turned left. Rysa hit the blinker and followed.
Derek snorted. “Her name is Anna.”
Rysa’s fingers stiffened. “And here I thought her name was Sister. Or Human.” Or Bitch, she thought. Derek hadn’t been around for the arguments. And for what Sister-Dragon did.
But Ladon told him. Right after they stole the sedan. She watched them argue, their heads close together, Derek’s body becoming more and more rigid and Ladon’s gestures more and more animated.
Derek reached for his hat. It lifted out of the backseat and he crunched the brim as he pulled it down on his forehead. This one was new, purchased at a roadside store in the panhandle of Texas, and it still looked it. “Genuine Stetson,” he said when he got back into the car. It hadn’t come off since.
The Tsar, with his American crown, chauffeured around by a dragon princess.
“She is sorry about what happened, Rysa.” His tone very clearly said he didn’t want to talk about it. Which was fine. Neither did Rysa.
Ladon pulled over to the side of the road, just off a long driveway snaking behind a high adobe wall. Rysa cut the engine and opened the window, to let in fresh air for Derek.
Part of her wanted to apologize for being such a burden. But part of her wanted to stand tall and point out exactly who almost died saving his goddamned skin. Saving it and fixing it and turning him into a freaking superhero. And it wasn’t his wife.
Rysa went with Vivicus because her seers told her she had to. To save his royal Russian ass. Not her own. Not anyone else’s. His.
And his wife better not forget it, either.
Derek pulled the handle on the door. “I will speak with Ladon.” He slammed the door and walked toward the driver’s side of the van before vanishing around the corner, into the shadows of the street.
Rysa tapped her finger on the steering wheel. This place smelled like the desert—but with flowers. Dirt, brush, heat, but also a sweetness that might or might not be native. If it wasn’t native, it’d been here long enough to fake it.
Her stomach growled. Whatever plant was filling the night air with its scent, its lovely tang made her hungry.
Dragon rolled out the back door of the van and climbed to the top, a big shadow moving over all the black. She watched, wondering if the beast was also hungry.
She rubbed her belly, wondering what the growling tummy—and the not sleeping—meant. Because, she knew, without her talisman, she couldn’t truly see.
Chapter Eleven
Ladon glanced over Derek’s shoulder at the sedan. His brother-in-law walked toward him as Rysa watched from the driver’s seat, her fingers tapping on the steering wheel and her face a flat mask of irritability.
“What did you say to her?” Ladon nodded toward the car. She didn’t need to be upset. They were about to get help from a credible source. A young, sometimes odd source, but one with honor and an addiction to solving puzzles.
Bernard’s hacking skills would find what they needed—addresses and phone records. Then Ladon would pry Dragon’s talon from the buyer’s clutching fingers.
If he needed to snap a bone or two in the process, so be it.
You must not be irritable when you greet Bernard. The van rocked as Dragon leaned over the side, sniffing at Derek’s head as he stopped about five feet from Ladon.
Ladon’s brother-in-law rubbed the beast’s snout, a deep ummmmm rolling from Derek’s throat. The sound was an unconscious response, a sort of coo-rumble Derek made when soothing the dragons.
It always reminded Ladon of his rumbling, though it sounded human, not dragon.
He glanced at the sedan again.
When he retrieved her talisman and hung it around her lovely throat, he would stroke her silky skin. He’d taste the delicate spot under her ear. A deep, joyful purr always vibrated up from her throat and across her skin when he kissed the nape of her neck. When it touched his lips he’d pull her around to face him.
And have his way with her.
Focus, Human. Dragon glared down at him from his perch on top of the van.
Derek’s lip curled. “You are more scattered than Rysa.” He pulled his hat down on his forehead. For a moment, he looked more a model playing cowboy than the real, working man he was.
Ladon shook his head rapidly, trying to clear the distractions, but his focus remained on the woman parked four dragon-lengths away. Annoyance popped from the sedan and into the energy he shared with the beast every time she tapped her finger on the steering wheel. Ladon could almost hear every hit: tap tap tap. “Why is she irritated?”
“All the obvious reasons, Brother.” Derek nodded toward the house. “Dmitri called Bernard.”
As had Ladon. The kid seemed both over-excited about guests and terrified of having so many people around at the same time.
People, and smells. How he’d managed to stay at The Land of Milk and Honey for as long as he had fascinated Ladon. Perhaps Dmitri’s management skills were better than anyone gave him credit for.
“He also said your Roman attitude will rub against Bernard’s now-sheltered life and ignite the world into something much more foul-smelling than a Burner, so you are to leave the bravado in the van.” Derek tapped the side panel.
Ladon’s sister showed more “bravado” than he did, and Derek knew it. As did Dmitri. “Do not make fun.”
Derek shook his head and walked around the front of the van toward the house. “Do not act the ass.”
The front light of the house flicked on. The entire area flooded with bright incandescent light. Bernard must have realized they had arrived.
So far, the other houses stayed dark.
D
ragon rolled on top of the van and the axles groaned. I have a good view of the neighborhood.
A voice came from the front door, along with rustling and the sounds of the two men slapping each other’s backs. “Ladon!”
He turned toward the house. Bernard loomed in front of the open door, his huge bulk as big—and handsome—as Andreas’s.
The last time Ladon had seen him, Bernard had been taller than him, but by only an inch or two. Now he towered over Derek with shoulders wide enough he had to turn to the side as he moved across the threshold.
He’d grown.
Which, Ladon thought, was to be expected. He’d turned eighteen a few days ago.
Ladon glanced back at the sedan. Bernard was only a few years younger than Rysa.
A new speck of jealousy flitted around Ladon’s head, buzzing like a damned mosquito. He mentally swatted at it, annoyed it had appeared in the first place, and glanced back at the huge kid beckoning him toward the house with wide gestures and a welcoming smile.
“Happy birthday,” Ladon said, and smiled back. Bernard couldn’t get anywhere near Rysa, anyway.
Chapter Twelve
The sweet scent of night-blooming plants wafted around Derek as he walked up the short concrete path to the door. Very little light filtered into the yard, but he made out stylized southwestern wolves, bears, and eagles painted along the inside of the fence. It all screamed “new money.”
Each time Derek’s boots hit the perfectly clean sidewalk a dull thump mixed with the humming from the insects hiding in the bushes. His stomach growled and he tasted the clean air, knowing they needed to stop and get food. But right now he had work to do.
The porch light burst on and flooded the front of the house with its glare. A rocking chair and a table sat off to one side. The chair creaked softly as a breeze moved through the open space. It worked its way under the brim of Derek’s hat and over his cheeks and nose, offering a hint of coolness to counter the unending annoyance making his skin prickle.
The irritation had been there since the Seraphim enthrallers made him do things he still deeply regretted, things involving bullets and dragon haunches, even though Brother-Dragon forgave him. The beast, thankfully, did not seem to be holding a grudge, for which Derek was thankful. No sense of withheld anger flicked to Derek, now that he could hear the beasts.
A new regret flickered into his mind, as bright as the overhead porch light. He had not told anyone he heard the dragons. The “keep quiet” whispering pushed aside the temptation to reveal all, the same way it pushed aside the temptation to talk about his new advantages, or his new role, or any of the changes.
Not now. Learn your new body first.
It did not make sense, but he listened. And stopped thinking about it. No good would come from dwelling.
Someone moved behind the door. The lock clicked, the tumbler rattling, and the handle rotated.
The huge young man staring at Derek smiled. Perfect teeth glowed in the light, framed by generic but model-perfect features—rich, mocha skin framed bright, almost black eyes, and the thick curls on his head matched the shape of his square jaw.
For a split second, Derek’s mind screamed that he was looking at a younger, darker version of Andreas, with Andreas’s all-encompassing physical presence and his all-destroying enthralling ability.
But Derek’s new sense of powers tapped at the inside of his skull like a crow tapping a window: Wrong thought! Wrong thought!
Bernard had been shaped by his family. They’d worked him hard as a kid and activated him early so he would grow huge. From what Dmitri told him, Bernard was exceptionally physically strong for a Shifter, but his enthralling ability was not.
Except the sniffing part. Bernard was probably the best bloodhound Shifter in several generations. Better than Andreas’s ex-wife, and Ladon’s ex-girlfriend, Penny Sisto.
The kid, though, had no interest in chasing Burners. Derek did not blame him. No one in their right mind wanted to chase Burners for a living.
Bernard looked over Derek’s shoulder—an easy movement for someone a good six inches taller—and his nose crinkled. But the kid’s head shook and his brow knitted as if an inner voice was telling him to behave like a good host.
He thrust out his chin at the same time he thrust out his hand. “Tsar!”
Derek grasped the offered palm and Bernard’s other hand slapped onto the back of his wrist. Derek’s hand vanished into the giant paws of this big Shifter.
“I am as American as you.”
Bernard blinked as if he had been admonished by a teacher.
Ladon’s attitude of Roman retribution was going to terrify this poor kid, even though they had spent time together at the bar.
But that had been almost a year ago, and Ladon was no longer the same man. Not by a long shot.
Derek smiled his best disarming smile and grasped Bernard’s hands with his own. “Call me Derek, please.”
The soothed Bernard nodded and looked over Derek’s shoulder again as they released hands. The kid waved. “Ladon!”
So, there was hope. But Derek suspected he would need his full diplomatic skills this evening, even if all he wanted was a nap.
Ladon walked up the concrete ribbon toward the door, his back straight and his gaze on Bernard as if the kid was about to storm out to the sedan and scoop up Rysa for himself.
Derek pinched the bridge of his nose.
The twenty-three-century-old man in front of him was acting like a hormonal teenager. They needed to retrieve Rysa’s talisman before her calling scents turned Ladon and his dragon into a pair of raging loons.
“Bernard.” Ladon shook hands with the kid. “You are well?”
Big nods accompanied Bernard’s wide-eyed response. “Ladon-Dragon is welcome inside.” The kid stared over Ladon’s shoulder with the same ease he stared over Derek’s. “I don’t have a lot of furniture yet, so there’s room.” He waved a big hand at the interior. “I went shopping as soon as Mr. Pavlovich called. Bought carrots, oranges, kale, and berries.” He smiled. “The co-op was about to close but they let me in and I got the best stuff because Mr. Pavlovich said Anna-Dragon was coming, too.” He looked to Derek. “Right?”
Derek nodded. His wife would appear shortly. Her last text admitted faster driving speeds than legally allowed.
“Great!” Bernard moved to the side. “Come in, come in.” But he stopped, looking through the wide gap in his front fence at the vehicles and leaned to the side for a second, obviously peering at the sedan. “Um, I put fresh linens out in the pool house. There’s a shower and a bed out there, too. So, um, Ms. Torres can sleep somewhere comfortable.” His nose crinkled again. “She’s welcome to use the pool. All of you are. It’s a clean system.”
Maybe if Brother-Dragon took a dip, it would calm down Ladon. “Great idea. The dragons love to swim, right, Ladon?” Derek glared at his brother-in-law, trying to force calm into the other man’s head.
Ladon’s face stayed perfectly flat. “Yes. Good idea.”
“Phones, right?” Bernard looked between the two other men. “You need calls traced, correct?”
Both Derek and Ladon nodded.
“Do you have them? The phones?” Bernard held out his hand.
“They’re in the van.” Ladon pointed over his shoulder and blinked as if he had caught some of Rysa’s ADHD. Derek was beginning to wonder if the effects of Rysa’s calling scents were cumulative.
“Oh.” Bernard motioned to Derek to enter.
“Give me your keys.” Derek wiggled his fingers at Ladon. “I will get the phones and move the van into the driveway, if that is okay with Bernard.”
The kid shrugged. “Please don’t block the garage.”
Ladon did not move.
“Go breathe the filtered, conditioned air inside,” Derek said, his voice low. “Both of you.”
After a beat, Ladon’s hand descended into his pocket. His keys appeared, but he did not say anything, only followed Bernard through t
he door.
“You, too,” Derek called.
Out front, the sedan started.
Ladon frowned and Derek heard a push between the man and his dragon. Was she listening?
A mental ping of exasperation preceded the answer from Brother-Dragon. She is a Fate. She knows what to do.
Derek would, beyond a doubt, need his full diplomatic skills tonight.
Seconds passed, and the air stirred. Two shadowy six-taloned hands appeared in the air. Rysa knows to back in the car. They vanished again, then reappeared closer to Derek. She knows to go around back. You will bring her food.
The beast twisted by and scrunched himself through the front door of Bernard’s expensive house, leaving Derek alone on the step.
Rysa’s calling scents did not affect him. Not directly. But the frayed nerves and faulty attitudes around him did. Derek pinched his nose again.
How long before their world began to crumble?
Chapter Thirteen
Rysa backed the sedan into Bernard’s long, circular driveway. The rear wheels bumped up the curb cut and she bumped forward with them, swaying a little in the driver’s seat. Slowly, she maneuvered the car’s back end toward the wide, stand-alone garage and the sweeping native-inspired horses painted over the door.
Her seers buzzed and she tried not to listen-listen to them, but to body-listen, and let her arms and fingers do what needed to be done to align the car with the property’s tall outside wall. She’d never been good with this kind of driveway—she couldn’t parallel park to save her life—and never really had opportunities to practice. But leaving a stolen vehicle on the street in front of Bernard’s house wasn’t a good idea. So she backed down the curvy, dark drive, hoping her seers would make up for her lack of skill.
The car’s rear end swept a little too close to some wild-looking landscaping. She stopped. She felt her seers all the time, and she should be doing a better job. When Vivicus stuck that thing in her throat, it over-stimulated her abilities. It clawed and chewed and made all her systems scream at the top of their lungs so it could get the loudest, clearest picture of what it had meant to copy.
Fifth of Blood Page 5
