Darkfire Kiss

by Deborah Cooke

  “So, it was Magnus who started that,” Eileen said, her disapproval clear.

  “I asked him about it, one night when he had been drinking of the wine stock,” Rafferty admitted. “He was quite proud of himself, and informed me that it was not only a profitable trade in itself but an excellent way to be rid of one’s enemies. That Magnus had enough enemies to have built a business in their body parts told me there was much I did not know about him.”

  “He was a Slayer, though, right?” Melissa asked.

  “No,” Rafferty said. “The distinction was not clear at that point. It came later when those who turned against the Great Wyvern found their blood black instead of red.”

  “But there was always evil within the Pyr,” Eileen supplied. “As there is in all kinds.” Melissa nodded in agreement.

  “And there appears to have been a gradual progression,” Rafferty said. “Although Magnus’s blood did not run black at that time, and he was not technically a Slayer, he had lived for centuries and had never had a firestorm. He was undeniably self-motivated, and his brother, Maximilian, repeatedly warned him that his choices were the reason he was without a firestorm. His brother wanted Magnus to change.”

  “Montmorency will never change,” Melissa said, her tone grim.

  “But he has a charm about him. On dark nights, in solitude, I feared for my own future. What if Magnus decided I knew too much? Or that he took a dislike to me, like the one he had to his own brother—a Pyr I found quite pleasant company and above any criticism. In daylight, though, I was well aware of the benefits of my situation and dismissed my fears. I reasoned that it was the brother who was deceptive—neither of them had had a firestorm, after all, despite their ages, and both were charming when they so chose.”

  “I’ll guess that you learned your mistake,” Melissa said.

  Rafferty smiled at her perceptiveness. “Magnus’s true nature was revealed when his brother had his firestorm. Both Magnus and I felt the firestorm, of course, for it was potent and close at hand. His brother was exultant at his good fortune, and apparently the woman was amenable to his attentions. He came to the shop to share his good news. Magnus said Maximilian had come to gloat, and he brooded that night, then declared he had to go to Spain.” Rafferty paused. “I never saw Maximilian again. But a fortnight after his visit, Magnus returned early from Spain with a fresh vial of dragon bone powder.”

  “It wasn’t,” Melissa protested.

  Rafferty nodded. “It was. I smelled Maximilian’s scent within it.”

  The women looked as sickened by this as Rafferty felt.

  “Did he know that you guessed its source?” Melissa asked.

  Rafferty shook his head. “No. He was jubilant and in a celebratory mood. I pretended to drink with him, to welcome him home. Then, when he was besotted, I sought Maximilian’s mate.”

  “Did you find her?” Eileen asked, leaning forward.

  Rafferty nodded and saw Melissa’s relief. Was it his imagination that the darkfire flames were leaping higher? He was keenly aware of the charms of his mate, sitting so close beside him, and recalling Maximilian’s demise made him feel fiercely protective of Melissa.

  “How did you find her?” Melissa asked.

  “I went to Maximilian’s home, but there was no trail to follow. Much had been destroyed, burned, and broken. But I recalled that he had a faithful manservant. Magnus had never been much interested in servants, but I had spoken several times to this man—while the brothers were cloistered with their business. It took me days to find him, for his scent had been well disguised, but when I found him and persuaded him of my goodwill, he took me to her.”

  Rafferty frowned. “She had just realized that she was pregnant and was fighting her family’s conclusion that her lover had abandoned her,” he said. “I told her the truth and vowed to defend her. She was devastated by the loss of Maximilian, and I realized that she had loved him truly. It was the first time I had witnessed the feelings of any mate, and I wondered then what might have happened if Maximilian had survived.”

  “Your grandmother must have loved your grandfather,” Melissa pointed out.

  Rafferty smiled, appreciating her observation. “Indeed. You are right.” He took her free hand in his, savoring the feminine softness of her skin, thinking of challenging the firestorm’s flames once again.

  Then he continued. “At any rate, her safety had to be assured. I hid her in a secure location while I made my plans, and the manservant kept vigil over her. I asked Magnus once about his brother and the firestorm, as if I had no idea what had happened, and he said his brother had abandoned his mate. He said she was incapable of conceiving a son, that the firestorm was a lie, and that his brother had been so distraught that he had left the city. I knew then that Maximilian’s last act had been to protect his lover and unborn son by refusing to reveal her name or location.”

  “And you assumed that role,” Melissa said, her approval clear.

  “I also knew Magnus had a hoard in England and that it had been left undefended for centuries. He had accumulated it during the Roman domination of London and had been forced to abandon it. He was intent upon reclaiming what he declared was his own, but he had as yet not managed to do so. After several months, I commented that I wanted to visit my grandfather, and I offered to fetch it for him. Magnus, complacent in what he perceived to be a complete victory over his brother, agreed.”

  “And you took the mate with you,” Eileen guessed.

  “I did. And I entrusted her to my grandfather’s care, in his remote cave in Wales. He was delighted by the company, for she was a new audience for all his tales. She was less happy, for she mourned the loss of Maximilian, but she was safe there, especially with Maximilian’s manservant. I returned to Venice, knowing that Magnus would be counting the days, and took part of his English hoard to him.”

  “Was he fooled?” Melissa asked.

  “Not entirely. He suspected something, although he didn’t know what. He had never asked after the identity of Maximilian’s mate, and without the heat of the firestorm, he couldn’t find her. Perhaps deception has a scent to one who traffics in it so regularly, for by the time I returned, he was certain I had betrayed him. He counted the silver from the English hoard obsessively, accusing me of taking some for myself. He became increasingly volatile, and I truly feared for my life.”

  “Why didn’t you leave?” Eileen demanded.

  “I didn’t want him to find the mate and the child.”

  “He had to stay undercover until the story was in the can,” Melissa said.

  Rafferty nodded. “I wanted her pregnancy to proceed normally, and I feared that if I returned to Wales, he would follow me and destroy them both, just as he had destroyed his brother. I didn’t count upon our refined senses.”

  “What do you mean?” Melissa asked.

  “We feel when another of our kind is born, like hearing a distant cry in the night. We don’t smell the child or hear it, per se, but we are aware of its arrival. I heard Maximilian’s son in the same instant that Magnus did. He came to me in a rage, in dragon form. He said he would have my hide for my deception, and we fought fiercely that night. Only when he was wounded and fallen, only when I thought him dead, did I dare to go to her.”

  “He tricked you,” Eileen guessed.

  Rafferty nodded. “He was fast on my tail, so much more wily than I could ever have been.”

  Melissa put her hand on his arm. “It’s liars who know instinctively how to deceive. It’s a learned skill for the rest of us.” She smiled at him, but Rafferty still dreaded telling the rest of the story. He was ashamed of his own role in it.

  “Of course, I led him to my grandfather’s cave, unwittingly, but still I did it. My grandfather sat by his peat fire, breathing smoke rings into the night. The woman had died, her corpse was still there, and she looked more at rest than she had when I had met her earlier.”

  “And the child?” Eileen asked.

  “Ther
e was a dead baby in her arms. Magnus arrived and slaughtered the manservant ‘for his deception.’ I was horrified that my grandfather acted as if he were more ancient than he was; that he offered the dead child to Magnus, as if that old dragon had come to honorably claim his kin. I protested, but my grandfather put me in my place.”

  Melissa watched Rafferty with obvious horror, but he continued.

  “Pwyll spoke more harshly to me than ever he had, and Magnus, Magnus was sated by the offering. He was even magnanimous, reminding me only of my inability to deceive him as his price from me. He surrendered me to my grandfather for discipline, and they acted like old allies. Magnus then incinerated the child and claimed the ashes, abandoned the woman there, and returned to Venice.” Rafferty fell silent, remembering the darkness of that night and his own disappointment at the time.

  “But I don’t understand,” Melissa said. “What does this have to do with the Sleeper?”

  “The Sleeper is Maximilian’s child,” Rafferty said.

  Melissa frowned. “But he died.”

  Rafferty shook his head. “It was not Maximilian’s child who died that night. It was another human child, one my grandfather substituted for Maximilian’s son. Marcus had already been hidden away by the time Magnus and I arrived.”

  “But how did the child die?” Melissa asked, still confused.

  Rafferty drummed his fingers on the table, and she saw that this story was difficult for him to tell. “Pwyll had killed it. He had anticipated Magnus’s arrival and intent. He explained that he would have preferred to have found a dead child, but it had to have the right scent of death about it. Time and location had limited his choices. We argued about his choice. He insisted it had been for the greater good, the defense of the Pyr and Maximilian’s son, but I was outraged by his deed.”

  Melissa was outraged, too. She made notes, appalled by what had occurred. Were humans merely useful to the Pyr?

  “What happened to Maximilian’s son?” Eileen asked.

  “My grandfather was the last Cantor of our kind. He could spin a spell with his song. He enchanted the child and disguised him from Magnus.”

  “He could even hide his scent?” Eileen asked.

  “He could,” Rafferty said. “He could enchant anything. He could turn anything to his will. His song was so powerful.” He sighed. “He called it the mystery of the crystals.”

  “Crystals again,” Eileen said.

  “Did he teach you how to do that?” Melissa asked, not entirely certain she wanted to know the answer. “Did he teach you the mystery?”

  Rafferty met her gaze, and she saw his resolve. “I refused to learn. I refused to have any part in his chant. He offered to mentor me again and again, but I have never had a taste for deception.”

  “Then I’m guessing you don’t know where the third crystal is, either,” Eileen said.

  Rafferty shook his head. “Nor should I know about this sorcery! Things must proceed as they must, not be tricked into serving the will of another. It is not right to put one’s own desires above all else.”

  Eileen pursed her lips. “There is the question of the greater good.”

  “The greater good?” Rafferty said, his voice rising in challenge. “How was that choice good for the human child? Who is to say which life was more important? Who among us should decide who lives and who dies?”

  “Maybe Pwyll knew,” Eileen suggested. “Erik has foresight.”

  “Maybe Pwyll chose Pyr over human, independent of the cost,” Rafferty said with disgust. “Maybe Pwyll saw himself as an arbiter. I refused to learn his powers and take that legacy.”

  “Amen,” Melissa said under her breath.

  “But you could use the power of the Cantor for good,” Eileen argued.

  Rafferty shook his head. “I fear it is seductive to turn others to one’s will. I fear that Pwyll began in goodness, but that the power was heady and turned him to his own intent.”

  Melissa made a note. There was something to be said for that perspective.

  Rafferty sighed. “That night, I saw only wickedness in his choice and his powers. I even accused him of killing the mate for the sake of convenience. He was enraged by the suggestion, and we fought for the first and last time. It was vicious, though we battled only with words.”

  He picked up the crystal and turned it in his fingers. His voice dropped, as if he were speaking to himself. “He begged me to be the guardian of the Sleeper, to become heir of his crystals, but I was too angry to do anything he asked of me. I refused him. I refused his council. I refused his knowledge. I refused even this stone. He vowed to mentor another, but I didn’t care about his threats. I left and I never saw him again.”

  Eileen grimaced. “So the knowledge of the Cantor was lost forever.”

  “I have principles,” Rafferty said, biting out the words. “And I am not ashamed of them.”

  Melissa frowned at her notes. “But wait a minute. Isn’t that the crystal linked to the Sleeper?” Rafferty nodded, and Melissa noted that its light was more brilliantly blue. Zoë was watching it so avidly that she didn’t seem to blink. “If you refused to take it, then how did you get it?”

  “He was the Cantor,” Rafferty said, tears rising in his eyes. “I felt him die. I heard his last song, a hundred years later. It haunted me in his attempt to draw me back to his side, to see us reconciled. I heard his despair that his knowledge would be lost.”

  “You didn’t go to him,” Melissa guessed, her words soft.

  Rafferty shook his head. “Not even at the end.”

  She turned their hands so that her fingers held his, then gave his hand a squeeze.

  “I refused to go. I was still young and proud and angry.” He paused and swallowed. “At least I was angry until I heard the last note of the song fade to nothing, until there was no more. I knew he was gone from this world. I was certain of it when I found this crystal in my hoard, as surely as if he had placed it there with his own hand.”

  “He did it with his song,” Eileen murmured.

  Rafferty nodded, looking sick. “I could have met him halfway. I could have consoled him at the last, not left him in solitude, without learning his talent. But I didn’t, and now the rift between us will never be healed.”

  His words hung in the library for a long moment, filled with his regret.

  “What a touching story,” Montmorency drawled at sudden proximity. “Or is it just a rationalization for a failure?”

  The three gasped and stood up as one, turning in place as they surveyed the room. Melissa held the toddler close, her heart pounding in fear. Rafferty shimmered blue around his perimeter, his gaze sharp as he sought the intruder.

  Where was Montmorency? What would he do? He was injured, so Melissa guessed he would make a daring play.

  Zoë pointed one finger at the ceiling. “Orge,” she said matter-of-factly.

  But the salamander perched on the light fixture was jade green, not orange. Its eyes glinted like beads and its tongue flicked, the sway of its tail setting the pendulum light to swinging.

  “So many choices,” Magnus murmured. “The mate, the new Wyvern, or that old blood duel. How shall I choose?”

  “The duel,” Rafferty said flatly. “Finish what has begun.” He put himself between Melissa and the salamander, and Melissa felt as if sparks were flying from his flesh. She put her free hand on his shoulder, making the darkfire crackle and leap.

  Magnus sighed with satisfaction. “How kind you are to feed my strength.” And he laughed.

  Melissa retreated, holding Zoë with both hands and leaving a space between herself and Rafferty. Eileen came to her side. Rafferty snatched for the salamander, but it disappeared suddenly.

  “Where did he go?” Melissa asked.

  “There!” Eileen cried just as Montmorency manifested right in front of Rafferty. The jade salamander latched on to Rafferty’s throat and bit deeply.

  Right in the jugular.

  Rafferty cried out in pain
as red blood seeped from the wound. He shifted shape in a heartbeat, filling the library with his powerful presence, and roared. He slashed at the salamander, his talons gleaming against the carpets. For an instant, he held Montmorency in his grip. He began to squeeze, and the green salamander disappeared again. The blood flowed more vigorously from Rafferty’s throat, brilliant red against the opal splendor of his scales, as he scanned the room.

  “You’re hurt!” Melissa cried, and stepped toward him.

  “Oh no, darling,” Montmorency murmured in her ear. The salamander appeared on her shoulder, his tail sliding back and forth with apparent glee. “You’re coming with me.”

  “No!” Melissa tried to brush off the salamander, but it dug its nails into her flesh. She cried out in pain, shoving at it in desperation and revulsion. Eileen snatched Zoë from Melissa’s arms and the toddler screamed. Rafferty roared and lunged toward Melissa, his teeth bared and his eyes flashing.

  This time, when Montmorency disappeared, Melissa disappeared with him. She was suddenly surrounded by swirling mist, caught in a kind of limbo.

  “Bye-bye,” Zoë said from some distant point, then started to cry.

  “Something of mine for something of yours,” Montmorency taunted Rafferty. “Tell me the location of the Sleeper and I’ll return your mate. Seems a fair trade, don’t you think?”

  “You can’t ask him to betray the Sleeper!” Melissa protested. She feared that Rafferty would pay the ransom and she’d still be sacrificed. There was nothing to be gained in negotiating with mercenaries like Montmorency, but she feared Rafferty might have too much faith.

  “No? I’m feeling rather persuasive.” Montmorency laughed. “And if there is some collateral damage, well, justice may be served.”

  The mists swirled whiter, abruptly clearing to reveal a storage room made of concrete blocks. It had a steel door, which was clearly secured. There was no window and no other opening, and the floor was fitted stones. Melissa could tell by the damp smell that she was trapped somewhere in the earth, and she sensed weight over them. There were wooden boxes stacked in the corner and several coils of jute rope. It looked like a forgotten space.