Flashfire

by Deborah Cooke

  He was thinking of diving in anyway—how deep could it be?—when the kid suddenly came to the surface again, sputtering. Thorolf watched until he had hold of a fishing boat. He hung there, most of his body still in the water, and struggled to catch his breath. He stared up at Thorolf.

  Uncertain.

  On impulse, Thorolf pulled out his own wallet. He tugged out an American fifty dollar bill, folded it into a paper airplane, and launched it at the kid. The kid hauled himself out of the water in a hurry to catch it. He clearly hadn’t guessed what it was when he snatched it out of the air—after he unfolded it, he looked up at Thorolf in astonishment.

  Thorolf waved, then loped back to the bar.

  His Pyr sense of smell helped him out big-time, making it reasonably easy to follow their convoluted trail in reverse. Within moments, he was sauntering down the street toward the bar.

  The redhead was arguing with the bartender, and she looked shaken. Even though Thorolf still didn’t understand exactly what the bartender was saying, he could guess what the fight was about.

  She was unable to pay.

  She was trying to explain herself, showing a dexterity with language that Thorolf lacked, although the bartender wasn’t interested in excuses. Thorolf leaned on the bar beside her and she gave him a quick glance.

  Then a smile.

  Then she turned to argue her case again.

  “Lose something?” Thorolf asked, offering her wallet.

  “Oh!” Her features lit with relief and she really smiled at him this time. “Thank you!” She quickly opened the wallet and paid her bill, stopping the bartender’s tirade in midsentence.

  Then that man eyed Thorolf, a frown creasing his brow. He pointed at the half-empty beer glass and the shooter where Thorolf had been sitting, but before he could complain, Thorolf handed him some cash.

  Within moments, Thorolf was sitting with the redhead, fresh drinks in front of both of them.

  “Pickpockets,” Thorolf said, feeling quite the man of the world. “There are thousands of them here. You’ve got to be more careful.”

  “How did you know?”

  “I saw him behind you, knew you didn’t see him.”

  “And you chased him. Wow. Most people wouldn’t have bothered. I owe you big-time. Thanks so much.” Her eyes glowed with gratitude and Thorolf noticed they were a wonderful shade of green. Sexy. She smiled again and stuck out her hand. “I’m Viv Jason.”

  “Thorolf.” He shook her hand, liking how soft and finely boned it was. Delicate. Feminine. He wanted to pull her closer instead of releasing her hand, find out maybe just how soft those lips were.

  Her eyes twinkled as she looked up at him. “Thorolf what?”

  “Just Thorolf.”

  “All right, Just Thorolf, I need some advice, and since you seem to know your way around, you get to advise me.”

  “Ask away.” Thorolf treated himself to a long, cool sip of beer.

  “Know any good places to stay?”

  Viv was still looking at him as if he were a hero, so Thorolf took a chance. He was feeling pretty lucky. He grinned. “How about you stay with me?”

  She smiled. She blushed a little.

  Then she leaned against him, her voice dropping even lower than its usual husky tone. “Thanks. I’d like that.”

  “Me, too.”

  When Viv slipped her hand around his neck, the move pressing her breasts right against his side, Thorolf figured his evening couldn’t get a whole lot better.

  That was even before she kissed him.

  Chandra was soaked to the skin, but she didn’t care.

  She thought about the guy who had pursued her, and the way his eyes had changed. She had a pretty good idea not just what he was but who he was.

  She thought about the woman she’d been following in the first place, the woman whose aura told a thousand tales.

  Dark tales.

  Old tales.

  Twisted tales.

  One of the Liliot, Lilith’s Daughters. Parasites and vermin. Chandra spat, feeling dirty just for thinking of their name.

  Chandra had lifted the woman’s wallet to find out what name she was using this time. Upon reflection, though, she didn’t think it was a coincidence that the woman had been in the same place as the dragon shifter.

  She fingered the fifty, knew he could have done far worse to her.

  Which just meant that she owed him.

  Fortunately, a huge guy with tattoos and blond dreadlocks would be reasonably easy to follow in Bangkok.

  Chandra went home to change, then slipped back to the vicinity of the bar. The Pyr and the witch were still there, laughing together. Neither noticed her in her changed clothes, but she was used to that.

  Chandra sank back into the shadows to watch.

  She might have to save the dragon from his own mistake—and repay her debt to him—sooner than expected.

  Chapter 8

  Diavolo. How had Marco known that Lorenzo had been thinking that word? How much more did the Sleeper know? For the first time, Lorenzo cursed himself for not paying much attention to Pyr lore over the years. He didn’t know what the Sleeper could do, much less why—all he knew was that this Pyr had a claim on the darkfire crystal.

  Actually, Lorenzo didn’t even know what that stone could do or what its importance was. That had been before the blue-green flame of darkfire had rippled in the core of the stone, before Rafferty’s own firestorm had been touched by the challenging force of the mythic darkfire.

  Once upon a time, none of this had been Lorenzo’s business. It wasn’t unreasonable for him to yearn for that to be his situation once again.

  Saturday. He’d be done with all of them on Saturday.

  He didn’t dare even think about flashfire, much less the song the Cantor had given him.

  He slanted a sidelong glance at his passenger and wondered how much the other Pyr knew about him. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

  He hated that Marco smiled right then.

  Lorenzo didn’t make conversation. He drove. He wasn’t fooled by Marco’s calm demeanor. The Sleeper was a Pyr, which meant he was a dragon, which meant the fire burned hot within him. It might be banked, or he might simply be disguising its heat, but if cornered or vexed, Marco would fight.

  Just like all the Pyr. They were primitive creatures. Dangerous. Violent. Inclined to anger and destruction.

  He could only hope his companion didn’t do something absurd, like toss a challenge coin at him and demand a duel to the death over the crystal. Such practices were barbaric.

  Lorenzo drove and acknowledged that he loathed his dragon nature. He was good with the longevity and his control over the element of fire. He liked having the ability to beguile—mostly because those powers had ensured that he’d been able to live as luxuriously as he desired.

  But the ripping, tearing, fighting, and biting side of his nature he found vulgar. Ill mannered.

  That was why he never shifted shape.

  Except for the incident the day before—provoked by Cassie’s presence and her question—he couldn’t recall the last time he had let himself shift.

  It was a point of pride that he never lost control, but he had lost control in the theater.

  And he’d threatened JP in old-speak.

  Lorenzo frowned and accelerated, telling himself that it wouldn’t happen again.

  “Yes, it will,” Marco murmured beside him.

  Lorenzo glanced at his companion in wary surprise. Had he heard Lorenzo’s thoughts?

  “I did,” Marco supplied, with a serenity that annoyed Lorenzo. “Again. It’s the legacy of the darkfire, I think. I can hear the thoughts of all the Pyr.”

  “I am not on Erik’s team.”

>   “But you can’t deny your own nature,” Marco said, watching the scenery with apparent fascination. “You have tried to do so for enough time that you should know that.”

  “What I know is that I can deny it.”

  Marco’s smile broadened. “The way you denied the firestorm?”

  “I satisfied the firestorm, to rid myself of its inconvenience.”

  “Ah.” Marco was clearly not persuaded. “Then why did you pursue your mate to her hotel?”

  Mate. Lorenzo wanted to snarl at the choice of word. “I smelled Slayer,” he confessed through gritted teeth.

  “And isn’t it our nature to defend our mates from Slayers?”

  “Believe what you need to,” Lorenzo said. “I do not adhere to Erik’s philosophy and I will not be governed by base instincts.”

  “I see.” Marco nodded. “Why the second interlude, then? The firestorm was satisfied, so you should have had no need or desire for her—unless she really is your destiny.”

  “There is no such thing as destiny.”

  Marco smiled. “Perhaps your so-called base nature is more a part of you than you think.”

  Lorenzo felt his own banked fire begin to simmer. “I owe you no explanation.”

  “True.” That maddening smile curved Marco’s lips even wider. “I note only that you can’t deny what you are.” He gave Lorenzo a look. “You can’t run from it and you can’t hide from it.”

  Lorenzo turned savagely into his own driveway. “You were sent by Erik! You can tell him that I’m not signing up. I’m not joining the Pyr!”

  “Believe what you need to,” Marco said mildly.

  “Why can’t you leave me alone? Why can’t you all go and harass another Pyr, one who actually wants to be involved with you?”

  Marco smiled. “Because you need us, Lorenzo, whether you realize it or not.”

  “I don’t need anyone!”

  Marco chuckled.

  Lorenzo fumed. He didn’t slow down as he approached the closed gates, knowing the timing perfectly. If he’d thought to spook his companion, he was doomed to be disappointed. He saw a slight glitter in Marco’s eyes, no more than that; then the gates swung open in the nick of time. He squealed to a halt before his own front door, just as the gates clanged shut.

  “You’re wrong,” Marco said. “But the good thing is that when you ask for the help of the Pyr, we will come—despite your attitude.”

  “I will never ask for the help of the Pyr.”

  Marco smiled that infuriating smile. “We’ll see.”

  Before Lorenzo could argue with him, the Sleeper got out of the car. He stood staring at the house, his eyes narrowed as he scanned its height and breadth.

  It was magnificent. Lorenzo looked at it with admiration and knew he would miss it, as well.

  On the other hand, the one he was going to occupy had its own charm, and its own challenges. He knew he would love living there, as well.

  Life was to be savored in the moment.

  But Marco wasn’t impressed by the house. He flicked a glance toward Lorenzo, and smiled again. “It is gone, after all,” he murmured. This time, humor danced in his eyes. “I should have known it would choose its own destination.”

  “Who took it?” Lorenzo demanded. “And how?”

  Marco smiled again. “Ask your father.” Before Lorenzo could ask, the other Pyr inclined his head slightly. “I thank you for your assistance.” Marco shimmered blue, shifted shape, then took flight in Lorenzo’s courtyard.

  In broad daylight.

  Right in front of the new housekeeper, who had opened the door to greet Lorenzo and stood there, astonished.

  Lorenzo could have spit sparks in frustration.

  Not again.

  But the housekeeper’s mouth fell open and her eyes went round and Lorenzo knew he had more beguiling to do.

  At least Marco hadn’t demanded the flashfire song. Lorenzo could still remember it, much to his relief.

  Something was going right.

  “So?” Stacy was bouncing on Cassie’s bed, an activity guaranteed to ensure that Cassie woke up.

  She did. She sat up, noted that it was almost lunchtime, and was surprised that she felt as good as she did.

  “So what?” she asked, noting that her friend was showered, dressed, and pretty in purple on this particular day.

  Stacy’s eyes shone. “Soooooo, you never told me and I couldn’t ask because JP was there and later I was too tired to grill you for details. Tell me! Did you have fun yesterday afternoon?”

  Cassie blushed. She tried to hide it by heading for the bathroom, but no luck—Stacy followed her. “You’ve already guessed.”

  “But I want all the details!”

  “Well, you’re not getting any.” Cassie met her friend’s gaze. “Look. I feel really bad about leaving you at the show.”

  Stacy waved this off. “I’m a big girl. And you were past due for some fun. Now, dish!”

  “No!”

  “Come on. Was it fun? Was he amazing?” Stacy’s eyes shone. “Is it true love forever?”

  “Okay.” Cassie froze in the act of brushing her teeth. “Yes. And yes. And no, absolutely not. Satisfied?”

  Stacy laughed. “No!” She leaned in the doorway and grinned. “Enough fun that you had to go back for more?”

  Cassie continued brushing, ignoring Stacy’s pointed remark. A person couldn’t be too careful with good dental hygiene.

  Stacy laughed again. “Good. I’m glad. When you can’t get enough, it’s a good sign, you know. Kismet.” Cassie rolled her eyes and Stacy sobered. “Is sex with Lorenzo fixing whatever’s been bothering you?”

  Cassie was going to deny that anything had been bothering her, but she met her own gaze in the mirror, surprised by Stacy’s intuitive response. She turned to Stacy. “You know, it is.”

  “Great! Then I don’t mind that you’ve been too busy to tell me all your secrets. We can catch up later.”

  Cassie felt guilty at that. “Let’s grab some lunch together. . . .”

  “Not today. I have a date and he’s good for what ails me. I told you years ago that you needed a vacation. I’ve been telling you for months that a little fun would set you straight. Maybe you’ll believe me from now on.” Stacy left the doorway, and Cassie heard her rummaging in the closet. She reappeared, posing with a pair of metallic purple sandals with stiletto heels. “What about these shoes?”

  “Who’s the lucky guy?”

  “JP.” Stacy inhaled and closed her eyes, as if she were giddy at the prospect. “Gorgeous man with gorgeous taste.”

  Cassie recalled what JP had said about temptation, and decided not to tell Stacy what he’d said. It sounded as if he was serious about her friend, and she liked that he was thinking of the longer term.

  Stacy made an appreciative purr in her throat. “I could just pack him in my suitcase and take him home.”

  “You might get the chance.”

  Stacy grinned. “Don’t tempt me. Your Jeep could be full of yummy men when we head home. We’ll grab Lorenzo on our way past his show.”

  Cassie laughed at the very idea of getting Lorenzo out of Vegas. She laughed harder at the idea of JP and Lorenzo jammed into the back of her Jeep for the long drive back to L.A. Which illusionist would make the other disappear?

  “What’s so funny?”

  “I don’t think they like each other. I was imagining them both locked in the back of the Jeep together.”

  Stacy laughed then too. “Don’t worry. Lorenzo can ride in the front with you and I’ll hop in the back with JP.” She winked and grabbed her purse.

  Cassie supposed her interludes with Lorenzo had served their purpose. She felt more invigorated. Still not ready to rush back to work, bu
t happier.

  She indicated Stacy’s choice of shoes. “Those look good, especially if you don’t have to walk far.” Cassie knew better than to expect that Stacy’s interrogation was done. She turned on the shower and pretended not to notice that her pal was hovering.

  “So, are you seeing him today?”

  “I don’t think so.” Cassie tried to sound casual. “It was fun, you know, and that’s that.”

  “It was kismet. I saw you two together,” Stacy said, and Cassie tried to not roll her eyes at Stacy’s favorite word. Or maybe it was her favorite idea. “Did he tell you about your dragon dudes?”

  “No, actually, he didn’t. There was just that illusion.”

  “See? He wants you to come after him.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Do you think he did that illusion again at last night’s show?”

  “He didn’t. I guess it was a one-off.”

  “He didn’t? How do you know?” Stacy grinned. “You went back!”

  Cassie felt herself blushing. “I wanted to know.”

  “Uh-huh. Don’t go getting married while I’m having lunch. I get to be a bridesmaid.”

  “Not a chance of that happening.”

  “So maybe Lorenzo knows more about the Pyr than he’s admitting.” Stacy grinned. “Maybe he is one. How else would he have done that trick?”

  “He’s an illusionist,” Cassie insisted. “It’s his job to make people believe things that aren’t true.”

  Stacy smiled. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes! The Pyr don’t exist.”

  “Lots of people think they do. Remember YouTube.”

  Rather than keep arguing, Cassie shut the door, peeled down, and got into the shower instead. She realized that Stacy had followed her when her friend abruptly pulled back the edge of the curtain. “Maybe you should find out for sure,” Stacy whispered.

  “I don’t think Lorenzo’s going to play Twenty Questions with me.”

  “Maybe Truth or Dare,” Stacy teased. “Or Spin the Bottle.” She primped in front of the mirror. “Maybe you just need an excuse to see him again.”

  “Maybe I don’t.”