Kiss of Fate

by Deborah Cooke

  Sophie awakened in a beam of sunlight. Nikolas slept beside her, the sunlight touching the tanned strength of him. The sand was warm and golden beneath them, the sun just slipping over the horizon again. She smiled as she remembered what they had done, and ran her fingertips over Nikolas’s shoulder.

  She felt so good, so languid and satisfied, that it took her a moment to realize that something was deeply wrong.

  Sophie couldn’t hear the earth.

  Once she realized as much, she couldn’t think about anything else. She sat up and strained her senses.

  Nothing.

  She couldn’t hear the anguish of the planet, couldn’t sense the earth’s frustration finding expression in the four elements. She couldn’t see the wind’s intention or feel the distant ocean or hear the earth moving deep beneath her. Sophie put her palms flat on the ground but felt only soil.

  She eyed Nikolas and guessed what she had sacrificed. What would become of her? How could she aid the Pyr without her powers?

  Sophie tried to cast her thoughts into the future and found nothing. She tried to hear the echo of prophecy, that little voice that always babbled in the corner of her thoughts, but found only silence.

  Her breath came quickly as she tried to shift shape to a salamander, her favorite guise, and failed. She let her body do what it would and she became a dragon, just as the other Pyr could.

  But she couldn’t become a salamander.

  She couldn’t move through space, disappearing and manifesting at will. She doubted that she could move through smoke or dispatch dreams or hear thoughts.

  She had lost what it was that made her the Wyvern.

  The revelation sent terror through her. She shifted back to human form, relieved that she could still control that. How would the Pyr win their war against the Slayers without a Wyvern to help them? How badly had she betrayed those who relied upon her?

  She understood the full price she had paid in breaking the old taboo against intimacy. She was no longer the Wyvern.

  But maybe it hadn’t been her choice that was responsible. The sense that Sophie had had for months of a deadline approaching could have meant that her time as Wyvern was ending. Perhaps her own choices had brought her more quickly to the transition. Perhaps she couldn’t have chosen anything other than Nikolas.

  The fact remained that it was for another Wyvern to aid the Pyr.

  She watched Nikolas and wondered whether there was good in this change. She and Nikolas could have no future, both being Pyr, unless they chose to be outcasts. It was bad enough that she had allowed herself to be drawn into events and to become emotionally involved with the Pyr. But in mating with Nikolas, she had willingly sacrificed her abilities. She had no place among their fellows, not anymore. They would know that she had chosen her own desires over their needs, an outright violation of her obligation to them.

  Plus Pyr did not have congress with other Pyr. It was so forbidden as to be unthinkable. Nikolas would be unwelcome among the Pyr warriors, tainted by his choice, his presence considered unlucky by the others no matter how much they sympathized with him. Homage to the Wyvern should not be tainted by base desire.

  But Nikolas was a fighter to his core, and a life in seclusion with her, ignoring the needs of the Pyr in their time of conflict, would be worse than death to him.

  It would destroy him to be compelled to stand aside.

  She would not ask such a concession of him. If her time as Wyvern was ended, though, she and Nikolas might have another chance, much as Erik and Eileen had had.

  The prospect made her dizzy.

  Nikolas stirred, as if he sensed her agitation. He spared her a sleepy smile, one that made her heart somersault.

  And she remembered her thought when she had first glimpsed him.

  He was the one.

  She thought again of his destiny, the strong sense she had had of his mission. Nikolas wouldn’t go to the dark academy of his own volition, even to overthrow it. He wouldn’t leave her defenseless. He wouldn’t fulfill his destiny so long as she was with him.

  Sophie didn’t have a single regret, but now she understood the Great Wyvern’s desire. Nikolas patted the sand beside himself in invitation, but Sophie knew she couldn’t go back.

  Time was too precious.

  She shook her head. “I love you,” she said, and her voice was hoarse. “I think I have always loved you, or at least, I’ve always known that I would love you.”

  Nikolas’s smile broadened and his voice was husky. “Then come back and do something about it.”

  “It is written that the Pyr should honor the Wyvern, worship the Wyvern, even pay tribute to the Wyvern, but never touch the Wyvern. Now I know why.”

  He sat up and pushed his hand through his hair, impatient with talk. “But I love you, Sophie. How is love not the greatest tribute of all?”

  “Yes.” She frowned as she looked across the hills, assessing the pace of the sun. What time was it? What day was it? How would she choose the best moment to act, now that her powers were gone? “I see that now,” she said, and heard the wistfulness in her own voice. “But I am no longer the Wyvern.”

  “I don’t care, Sophie. I still love you.”

  “I know.”

  Nikolas stood up then, his expression wary. “You’re going to do something. What’s going on?”

  “You have a destiny. . . .”

  “I don’t believe in destiny.” His eyes flashed. “I believe in choice and I believe in choosing to be with the one I love—”

  “It doesn’t matter what you believe!” Sophie shouted, both irritated and touched by his single-mindedness. Her tears broke free and he moved to comfort her. “There is something you must do, something you are fated to do, something that must be done to ensure the future of the Pyr.”

  His expression set and his eyes flashed with anger. “Don’t start talking about that dark academy again. My obligation is to you and only to you. I choose to defend you, at any price, and I will do that so long as I draw breath.”

  “I understand,” Sophie said, her words thick as she backed away from him. “But I don’t think you do.” She swallowed and shifted shape right before his eyes. “Yet.”

  Nikolas’s consternation was clear. “Sophie? What are you doing? Where are you going?”

  “Next time, Nikolas,” she whispered in old-speak. “Next time the Great Wyvern will smile upon us, even reward us.”

  She saw the moment that Nikolas understood. She saw the flash of his eyes. She felt his anger swell as she took flight. She leapt into the sky with all her might and didn’t look back.

  She didn’t dare risk changing her mind.

  She knew what had to be done. She was going to die, and she would die for a good reason.

  She would lead Nikolas to fulfill his destiny so they could be together in the future.

  They would be the prophesied sacrifice.

  “Sophie!” Nikolas roared from behind her, but Sophie flew faster than she had ever flown before. “No!”

  Sophie heard Nikolas pursue her. Nikolas was larger, he was faster, but she was determined.

  And maybe, just maybe, the Great Wyvern was on her side.

  Sophie found a tendril of hate that wound out of the dark academy founded by Magnus and she latched on to it. She followed it like a fish on a lure, plummeting toward a heart of evil and her own destruction.

  If Nikolas saved the Pyr, it would be worth it.

  It might have been the strangest sight Eileen had ever seen.

  She had a feeling that if she spent her future in the company of Erik Sorensson, she’d see stranger ones, but for the moment, this one took the prize.

  She was on the roof of the building that housed his loft. Eileen was glad of the thickness of her sheepskin coat. She’d slung her satchel over her shoulder before they came up to the roof, not wanting to lose her notebook or her knitting.

  The old warehouse building was about six stories high, with a flat asphalt roof, a
nd Erik’s home took all of the top floor. It was a gray morning, clear, although the overcast skies threatened snow. The wind was damp enough off the lake to make Eileen shiver. Chicago was bustling with morning traffic.

  None of this was strange.

  That she was in the company of two other women wasn’t particularly strange, either, even though the choice of location for a chat was unusual.

  The dragons were definitely out of the ordinary.

  The Pyr had emerged onto the flat roof as men, but had changed shape with remarkable speed. Quinn had become a dragon scaled in sapphire and steel. Donovan was brilliantly hued, scaled in lapis lazuli and gold. Sloane was like a rainbow in comparison to the others, his gold-edged scales shaded in all the various hues of tourmaline. From nostril to tail, his color slipped from gold through green to purple and back again.

  The sound of thunder was something Eileen was getting used to. She folded her arms across her chest as the Pyr conferred, disliking that she didn’t know everything that was going on.

  “We’ve got to figure out how to listen to that,” Alex muttered, and Eileen smiled that they were thinking the same way.

  “It’s usually stuff they don’t want us to know,” Sara agreed.

  Alex tapped her toe. “We need something to modulate the frequency and move it into a range we can hear.”

  “Resident genius and scientist,” Sara said to Eileen, indicating Alex. “She’ll have it figured out in no time.”

  Alex rolled her eyes. “Not with any help from them, that’s for sure.”

  “Maybe they like having a few secrets,” Eileen suggested. “Although, I have to admit, they’ve got some big ones.”

  The women exchanged smiles; then Sara nudged Eileen. Quinn was off to one side, breathing dragonfire that burned white and hot. “This is your cue,” Sara said.

  “But I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

  “Just come to me,” Erik said.

  Eileen realized that he hadn’t changed shape yet. He stood watching her, the wind in his hair. She walked toward him and halted in front of him while the Pyr and their mates watched. “What are we doing?” she asked in an undertone.

  His eyes glimmered, making her very aware of her femininity and teasing her with the recollection of all they had done. “Do you still want to see the change?”

  Once again, she had the sense that she was making a wager without knowing all of the conditions. But she knew Erik better now, and she trusted him. She smiled. “Yes!”

  “Tell me if it troubles you at all,” he said, and she nodded her agreement.

  He offered his hand and she put her hand on his. She watched as he began to shimmer. He was consumed in a flickering blue light, like that of static electricity, but it brightened and moved more quickly with every passing moment. She had a hard time discerning precisely where the man ended and the sky began; then the shimmer grew brighter.

  And in the blink of an eye, he had changed from a man to a dragon. Her hand was still on his, except his hand had become a claw, his nail a long silver talon. His posture was the same, though, as was his gentleness and intensity.

  As was the green gleam of his eyes.

  Eileen looked. Erik seemed larger in the open air, even though it wasn’t a small space. His black wings arched high and his tail covered a large section of the roof. His scales were black, as black as ebony, and they gleamed like jet.

  They could have been edged in silver, made by a jeweler for all the precision of their shaping and color. His chest could have been made of rows of chain mail in hammered pewter. Eileen thought of her first glimpse of him, livid in the vault of the foundation, and much preferred his current mood.

  She flattened her hand and slid it across his scales, surprised again to find them warm and dry. She kept expecting them to be cold, like armor, or slippery like a fish. They felt solid under her hand, but not repulsive. Powerful. Eileen surveyed Erik, sensing that there was something special she was supposed to notice.

  The way the Pyr held their collective breath and waited was a big clue.

  Then Eileen found it. Where Erik had the wound in human form, he also had one in dragon form. Of course. The red scab on his forehead was larger than it was in human form, and looked like a jewel. It shone like the ruby that the alchemists believed was buried in the dragon’s forehead. Eileen shivered at the unwitting connection, then reached for it.

  It was a bit funny that she felt protective of a man who could become a dragon at will, and that she kept feeling the urge to scold him for not taking better care of himself. She couldn’t help it, though. She wanted him to be strong and healthy, not to push himself too far.

  “Let me see that,” Eileen said sternly, and Erik inclined his head, closing his eyes. She ran her fingertips over his brow, awed that he was both powerful and gentle with her. There was no infection, so far as she could tell, but the flesh was open beneath the scab.

  “There’s a scale missing,” she said with sudden realization. “Will it grow back?”

  “No.” Erik spoke with resolve. He opened one eye to consider her. “When a Pyr loses a scale, it can be repaired only with the assistance of his mate, using a talisman given by her to him.”

  Eileen understood immediately. She held up the rune stone. “This.”

  “That,” Erik agreed.

  “I gave it to you already.”

  “Unwittingly. You volunteered it, which is critical element in its effectiveness.”

  Eileen smiled. “I thought the dragon was supposed to save the damsel in distress, not the other way around.”

  Erik snorted a puff of smoke and declined to comment on that. “It is the labor of the Smith to repair our armor,” he said softly. “Will you aid Quinn in this task?”

  There was no question in Eileen’s mind. Erik had saved her a number of times, not expecting reciprocation. She wanted him to be fully armored, to improve the chances of their having a future together. “Of course. Just tell me what I have to do.”

  Sara stepped forward then, lifting the rune stone from Eileen’s hand. She closed her hand over it and lifted it to her ear, as if listening to it, then nodded. “The proper union requires all four elements to be present and accounted for. The Pyr generally have fire covered and an affinity for one other element. The mate brings the other two to the equation.”

  “Eileen brings water,” Erik said with conviction.

  Eileen couldn’t deny that she had a strong link to that element, for better or for worse.

  “Compassion and understanding,” he added, and she was sure he smiled at her with affection. “Sensitivity and intuition.”

  Eileen thought about the Wyvern’s comments beside the pond. It seemed as if Eileen had gotten her water back this weekend.

  “Erik must be air, as well,” Sara mused. “He’s the thinker of the Pyr, the one most concerned with abstractions and ideas.”

  “And plans,” Donovan interjected.

  “Logic,” Quinn added.

  “Doesn’t air govern the gift of foresight?” Sloane asked.

  “Yes,” Erik said. “And the ability to conjure visions.”

  Eileen stared at him and remembered how he brought the past to life in the ocean’s dark mirror. “That leaves earth, then,” she said. “What’s its association?”

  “Practicality, determination, resilience,” Sara said.

  “Gold,” Alex said with a smile, touching the ends of Eileen’s hair.

  “Treasure,” Erik said with approval. “Where no one has had the wits to seek it before.”

  “Dross into gold?” Eileen teased, and he laughed.

  “No.” His eyes shone as he regarded her, the intensity of his attention making her heart skip. “The extraordinary discerned where others have overlooked it.”

  They stared at each other, a new kind of heat kindling between them, and Eileen half wished the other Pyr would disappear.

  Instead, Quinn took the rune stone from Sara in his talons,
beat his wings, and reared high. He exhaled flames at the rune stone and it heated in his grasp until the stone turned white. The Helm of Awe was etched in black against the blinding white, the stone seeming to radiate strength and power.

  Erik bowed his head before Eileen, and Quinn placed the hot stone over the missing scale. Erik winced and bared his teeth as the stone seared the raw skin. He caught Eileen close and beat his wings, creating a tempest around them.

  It began to snow, the white flakes dancing out of the sky and swirling around them. Erik’s wings turned the snow into a maelstrom, shielding the two of them from those whose surrounded them.

  Eileen stared into Erik’s eyes and recalled Sigmund’s death in the snow, Louisa’s death in the swirling waters of the Severn, Erik’s father’s death in the smoke-filled haze of the alchemist’s shop. She thought of how the past had shaped the future and hoped desperately that their current choices shaped a better future.

  She hoped that Erik wouldn’t be sacrificed, and hoped it with all her heart.

  She looked at the bloodred wound of the embedded rune stone and believed that Erik’s father’s talisman, which had wound its way back to him against all expectation, would help him in the days and nights ahead. She wished he hadn’t had to endure such pain, but she was honored to be in the company of the man he had become.

  So she bent, touched her lips to the rune stone, and her falling tears sizzled as they eased the heat of his wound.

  When she opened her eyes, Erik was back in human form. She was standing in the circle of his arms; he had a small mark on his forehead, and he was lowering his head to kiss her.

  His possessive kiss was all she wanted and more.

  Chapter 26

  In Hampstead Heath, Rafferty Powell planted a strange crop in his garden. He had planted many mysterious seeds in his time, but these were the oddest of all.

  He planted ninety-nine enormous teeth.

  Niall and Thorolf had appeared after the departure of Lynne Williams, and Rafferty put them to work. The soil in his neglected garden wasn’t easily worked, but the younger Pyr were strong and determined.