Rise of the Dragon: an Urban Fantasy (Moonlight Dragon Book 5)

by Tricia Owens

  Once I was back in my own body, I ran to where he lay on the ground, coughing and groaning.

  "Stay down for a moment," I told him as I gently pressed down on his chest to keep him still. "It takes some getting used to."

  His laugh sounded pained. "Getting used to it…I'm not sure that's my intention."

  I grinned. "You never know." I stroked his sternum. "Just rest. There's no hurry. Everyone's safe, thanks to you."

  "No." He turned his head to blink up at me. His glasses were skewed. I carefully righted them on his face, but he caught my wrist. "I didn't want to do it." I flinched, but he went on. "I've always thought of it as wrong. History has taught me that our dragon natures are demons inside us that we need to suppress."

  I settled on my knees, my shoulders curling inwards. "Maybe they are. Demons, I mean. Everything that's happened might have been avoided if our family wasn't descended from dragons. All the pain. All the suffering…It was because of who we are."

  "No," he said sternly. He squeezed my wrist. "That was someone attempting to abuse us. To use us for their own gain. You chose to trust yourself, Anne, and I was not happy with your decision. It felt like defiance. Foolishness." He eased his grip. His thumb stroked my skin. "But when I heard that awful sound—a banshee's was it?—I knew in my heart that you'd found us even though I'd believed it impossible. I couldn't continue to arrogantly blindfold myself. We'd been labeled monsters for so long that I'd convinced myself that it was true. But you've shown me that we aren't monsters. We're dragons. We're terribly powerful, but we're not dangerous. We're guardians. We have a responsibility to keep safe those who are weaker than us."

  I rubbed at my eyes, which were burning.

  "I came to this realization only because of you, my bright spark. You're exactly what your parents always hoped you'd be: brave and intelligent and willing to stand up for what's right no matter the cost to you personally."

  "It's cost a lot," I whispered.

  He searched my expression, and I could tell the moment he understood about Vale.

  "Anne," was all he said. It was more than enough.

  I sat with him until he recovered, though in truth I think we both needed the time out. Sometime later, with the sun dipping to the horizon, the two of us rejoined the others beside Kusahara's Jeep. The man in black himself was at the edge of the hole that Uncle James' dragon had blasted open in the desert floor, peering down into it, maybe trying to figure out how to conceal it.

  "Anne, can you believe it!" Melanie said after nearly squeezing the life from me with her hug. "We all thought we were gonna be buried alive. We were so scared! Then we heard that awful noise and Uncle James stood up straight and said, 'Anne is here. I have to do my part to help her.' And then bam! He just did it! Big red dragon! It was super awesome!"

  "And extremely difficult for this old man," he said with a soft laugh. "If you girls don't mind, I'm going to take a seat in the Jeep."

  I watched from the corner of my eye as he paused at the passenger side of the car and looked down at the pieces of Vale's statue. His shoulders rose and fell with a deep sigh before he moved back to open the door for the backseat.

  "What's happened?" Celestina asked me in an urgent whisper as she looked uneasily at Kusahara by the hole. "Where's Vale?"

  "The Oddsmakers are done," I told her. "I guess dead. Whatever. They'll never hurt anyone else again." I summoned an honest smile for her. "Lev is alive and Orlaton's helping him."

  She began to cry and I could only hug her, trying to use osmosis to experience her joy and relief. It didn't work. Melanie wanted to join in, so the three of us squeezed each other and dampened each other's shoulders with tears. In my mind rang the question, Where's Vale?

  I wanted never to answer it.

  EPILOGUE

  Uncle James wasn't old, but he'd been through a lot. His snores of exhaustion filtered through the beaded curtain and into the shop. The sound relaxed me, nearly sending me into a trance.

  But sleep was for the innocent, they say. Or in this case, for those who weren't crucified by grief. My eyelids refused to lower and grant me relief. That was fine. I wasn't ready yet. Instead, I lowered the wards on the yard and unlocked the front door. Then I sat on the stool in the dark, and I waited.

  Just after three a.m., the front door opened.

  "Hello, Xaran," I said quietly.

  Vale's brother seemed larger than I remembered him, or maybe I was intimidated. He filled the shop, the same shop that I had tentatively agreed to continue running with Uncle James.

  "I heard what happened," he said in his low, growly voice.

  I gripped the edges of the stool seat. "Did you?"

  "You defeated the Oddsmakers."

  "With help," I said clearly. "With Vale."

  He'd been standing there fairly passively, but at the mention of his brother's name Xaran went rigid and he took a threatening step toward me. Instinct said to call up Lucky. But I didn't. I sat there and held his burning gaze. I missed the harping of the cameos, which now only Uncle James could hear. I had to sit there and listen to the roaring of the blood in my ears and Xaran's heavy breathing.

  "You didn't ask yourself how a gargoyle could curse Evadne into such a condition?" he demanded.

  I had expected him to say something else, something about Vale. I stared back at him, afraid that my ignorance had made Vale's death even worse.

  "You never asked Vale why our bloodline was cursed to become gargoyles in the first place?"

  "No," I said, at last, my reticence was beaten down by Xaran's intensity.

  His growl rolled up from somewhere deep in his chest. "It's because we're powerful, Anne. Our blood has shaped the magickal world in a hundred different ways. Nations have fallen because of us. And that's why we were targeted."

  "What are you capable of doing?" I asked, confused that he felt the need to give me this history lesson when two pieces of stone sat on the glass counter beside me, and they meant everything to both of us.

  "Once, we were supremely powerful. Too powerful." He sneered slightly. "We were cursed in an attempt to chain us. Even as gargoyles, though, we were strong. However, blood powers weaken with each generation. Our father was the last to truly hold vast power. Vale can't do much at all." He curled his big hands into hefty fists. "But that's not true of me. You should have asked me for help, Anne."

  A lesson for the ages, and one I'd learned too late.

  "I've always thought it should be me," I admitted in a whisper. "My dragon was so much stronger than everyone else's magick. It made sense to me that I needed to be the one to take care of everything."

  "You're not wrong, but Vale should have told you not to fight alone."

  "He did." I closed my eyes for a moment. "He told me, but I refused to listen. I didn't want anyone to be hurt because I couldn't do it alone." I trembled. "But in the end, the one I hurt was him."

  Xaran snorted. It irritated me because the sound was sort of flippant and we were talking about the death of his brother. I snapped, "So why are you here? If you've come to make me pay, then just do it already."

  "I didn't come here for that," he muttered dismissively. He moved to the counter, his eyes latching onto the sight of the broken statue. Any flippancy I thought I'd sensed from him was nowhere to be found as he delicately ran his fingers over the pieces. "Vale," I heard him murmur.

  I forced myself to watch. I didn't deserve to be spared the sight of his grief. But Xaran turned his dark gaze to me and said, "This isn't permanent."

  I didn't know how to respond. Was I delusional and hearing only what I wanted to hear? Had I actually fallen asleep and I was dreaming this?

  "You should have asked me for help," he repeated. He placed both hands on the two halves of the statue. "He may not possess the power to do this, but…maybe I do."

  He didn't sound confident, though, and I resented him for daring to raise my hopes. I slid off the stool and stood behind his shoulder as a purple glow seeped from
beneath his palms.

  Don't hope. Don't hope. I repeated it obsessively, like a mantra, trying with all my heart and soul not to succumb. I was aware more than anyone that this wasn't a Disney movie. People had already died. They weren't coming back.

  When I felt power build in the shop was when I began to breathe faster. Magick always felt the same: a swell of pressure, a static sensation, an odd buzzing along your nerves that occurred everywhere at once. But this felt different, deeper in a way I couldn't explain. I guessed that this was ancient stuff I was feeling, the sort of sorcery that Azima and Echinacious could produce. The kind that was tied to the heart of the universe.

  The light beneath Xaran's hands grew brighter until I had to squint my eyes, until I couldn't see the pieces of statue any longer. I thought I felt the floor tremble gently beneath my feet. But that could have been all in my mind, just me hoping that Xaran was moving Heaven and Earth to save his brother.

  The pressure in the room increased. I heard a familiar rustling sound and turned my head to see Uncle James paused in the doorway, his naked eyes round and fixed on the counter. I thought to go to him. To hold his hand, maybe. Only…I took a step and all the air was sucked out of the shop and out of my lungs. It caught me at a bad time—right after I'd exhaled a breath—so I had nothing to go on. I swung my arms blindly as I gasped for breath. Blackness swept over my vision. My lungs heaved and burned, absorbing nothing.

  I heard Xaran speak my name several times, but I was suffocating to death. Besides my name I didn't understand anything he said. I clawed at my throat. My mouth opened and closed as I attempted to suck in air that didn't exist.

  Just as I was about to pass out, air rushed into my lungs.

  "Jesus!" I gasped. I took huge gulps of air. It didn't feel like I'd ever get enough. I reached out to brace myself against the corner of the counter. My fingers touched naked skin instead. I recoiled.

  It wasn't disgust that tried to stop my heart, though. I probably screamed, or at least let out a cry. Later, Xaran and Uncle James would kindly describe my reaction as "elated." I'd call it over the moon. Vale lay on the counter, whole and appearing to be healthy, and it was the most beautiful thing I'd seen in my life.

  I elbowed Xaran aside. It was testament to how drained he was from his sorcery that he didn't grunt or make a remark about my rudeness. He merely stepped back, allowing me to curl protectively over Vale's upper body, my hands framing his face as though it were a precious Fabergé egg.

  He blinked up at me tiredly, dazed, clearly out of it. He perked up a bit, though, when my tears rained down on his face.

  "Moody?" he reached up to my cheek and traced a tear track with his fingertip. "Why are you crying?"

  "You stupid idiot," I choked out. "It's because you were dead a second ago!"

  Returning from the dead had clearly fried his mind slightly because he only looked at me, not fully comprehending what I'd said. I touched my lips to his, something I didn't think I'd ever get to do again, and whispered, "You died, Vale. Xaran brought you back."

  I kissed all over his face, giving him time to come up to speed, but mostly just indulging my obsessive need to touch every inch of him that I could. It was unabashed sexual harassment, but I didn't think he'd mind.

  "Xaran?" he eventually croaked.

  I should have been a good girlfriend and backed away to allow his brother to come up, but I was apparently selfish because I refused to move. Xaran ended up having to come around the other side of the counter to see him.

  "Vale," he rumbled. He didn't look happy, which made no sense to me. "I'm sorry for what I've done."

  Vale went still. I didn't get what was going on between them. They both acted like Xaran had done something terrible by bringing Vale back to life.

  "You broke the curse," Vale said quietly, his eyes steady on his brother.

  "That's good!" I exclaimed. But my excitement dimmed when they didn't reflect it. "Right? I mean, it's a curse. Curses are bad."

  "Curse are bad," Xaran agreed, still staring down at Vale, "and they're difficult, often impossible, to break. As Vale knows, there were consequences to breaking this one."

  I clutched Vale's shoulder protectively as I confronted Xaran. "Let me get this straight: you bring him back from the dead, and I'm supposed to feel bad about it? He's alive!"

  "And no longer a gargoyle," Vale murmured.

  I sucked in my breath. "But—that's even better!" I warmed up to the idea with lightning speed. "You can move around during the day now. You won't turn to stone."

  Xaran shook his head. "He's now a man, but a chained one."

  Despite the miracle he'd just performed, I couldn't help glaring at him. "What are you talking about? How could there possibly be a downside to this?"

  "The gargoyle curse was meant as a punishment," he growled at me as though I were a pesky gnat. "It could be broken, yes, but there was a punishment in the breaking. The act itself requires immense power, and it comes with consequences: the loss of all magickal ability, the loss of an extended lifespan, and the loss of freedom. In other words, live long and free as a gargoyle, or die as a human slave."

  I ran it all through my head quickly, and then once more to make sure I got the gist of it.

  "You said my name while you were breaking the curse," I pointed out. "You tied me into this."

  Xaran nodded. His look was weighted. Oh.

  "The curse prohibits the Morgan family from assuming the role of master over another," he told me. "That would have been too convenient."

  "Right. Otherwise you would have uncursed each other long ago." I licked my lips. "So what you're saying is that from now on, Vale is my slave, forced to do my bidding?" I couldn't help the lecherous tone of my voice, nor the possessive look I cast over him.

  Vale looked from me to Xaran, surprised by my reaction. And then, much to my enduring delight, he blushed bright red. "Moody…"

  Xaran coughed, caught aback by our reactions. He quickly recovered and smirked. "So perhaps I have nothing to apologize for after all."

  Smug bastard. But he wasn't wrong.

  "Get out of here," I muttered. "You can visit with him when it's your turn."

  Laughing, he literally sauntered out of Moonlight. I could hear him whistling as he headed for the sidewalk. I started to speak but then remembered that Vale and I still weren't alone. Uncle James remained standing beside the beaded curtain. At my look, he covered his mouth with his hand, but I could see that he was smiling.

  "I'd shut the door and grant you privacy," he said sheepishly, "except there isn't one."

  It was my turn to blush. "We aren't going to do anything, Uncle James. You can go back to sleep. We'll be quiet."

  "I'm sure there are hotels within walking distance that are open."

  "Uncle Jaaames," I groaned.

  Chuckling, he backed up through the curtain. He paused, though, to smile at Vale. "Welcome back."

  "Thank you," Vale said quietly. He said nothing more until we heard Uncle James climb back into bed. "Would you…help me to sit up?"

  He was so weak he could barely manage to swing his legs over the side of the counter. I moved between his knees and laced my fingers behind his back to help keep him upright.

  "This must be how a newborn feels," he said ruefully.

  "Fortunately for you, there's no hurry for you to get better." I smiled up at him, proudly. It was a new feeling for me. "The Oddsmakers are no more. Melanie, Celestina, and Lev—everyone's okay. We did it, Vale."

  "I have the feeling that you did it."

  "No," I said emphatically. "I'm not taking credit for anything. It was all of us—you, the Rebellion, Uncle James, Orlaton, and even Kusahara. We all worked together. It was the only way to do it, and I should have realized it from the beginning."

  "So it's really done." He seemed amazed by that, as though it was a dream he'd never truly believed would come true. He raised a shaking hand to cup my cheek. "And you're still as beautiful as ever, Moody
."

  It was my turn for the weak knees.

  "What Xaran did," he began slowly, with a divot between his eyebrows, "is not an obligation. I don't want you to be burdened by me if you don't—"

  "Shut up," I said without heat.

  His teeth clicked together so sharply it startled both of us.

  "Oh," I said as realization set in. "So it's pretty literal. I'd better be careful, then."

  He looked embarrassed as he nodded. "Whatever you say goes."

  That had some sexy possibilities, but first and foremost, I loved Vale. This wasn't about fulfilling my fantasies.

  "While I was joking about wanting you as my slave, I meant what I said about there not being any downsides to this. For me, at least." I dropped my gaze. It was my turn to be embarrassed. "I'd get it, though, if you feel uncomfortable. You didn't ask for this."

  "I'm fine with it as long as you don't make me wear a collar," he said. I jerked my head up, but he grinned at me. "Gotcha."

  I laughed. "More like I've got you. Seems to me I'm going to be the one calling the shots from now on."

  His grin softened into something sexy and very masculine. "I guess we'll see about that, won't we?"

  I shivered in a pleasant way. Vale might technically be under my command, but I didn't believe for a second that he would be my plaything. Well, not all the time, anyway.

  "I'm going to have to call up Kusahara again and ask about him setting you up with new identification now that you're a real boy," I said.

  "I'm sure he'll be thrilled."

  "Hey, he might. He could probably use the diversion since he's been working his butt off setting up Merry and the Rebellion as an overseer group for the city. Apparently, they're not as keen as the Society of Shapeshifters was to agree to a bunch of rules."

  Vale's eyebrows rose. "The S.O.S.? The ones who've been hounding my brother and me?"

  "I agree that they've been pretty overbearing in the past, but they only did that to keep shapeshifters safe. Their heart's in the right place, and that's what we need to replace the Oddsmakers." When Vale gave me a dubious look, I added, "It's not ideal, but they're definitely necessary. We need them to keep the Rebellion in line and vice versa. It's a perfect check and balance, really."