“What do you mean?”
“The subway tunnel has collapsed in four places on the Northern line,” he said, clearly torn between his responsibilities. “Humans have been put in peril.”
“Just as he threatened.” Melissa eyed Rafferty, knowing he was worried about her, too. She had an idea how she could solve his problem of wanting to be in two places at once. “Do you have your cell phone?”
He blinked, then tugged it from the pocket of his jeans. He handed it to her, clearly trusting her instinct, whatever it was. “What are you going to do?”
“No one ever dies on the air,” she informed him with a smile, using Bill’s favorite logic for getting on with the broadcast, whatever current conditions might be. “Too many witnesses. Sometimes the safest place to be is reporting live from the scene.”
“Call Doug,” Rafferty said, understanding immediately. “You can be the reporter on the scene for the earthquake.”
“Exactly,” Melissa agreed as she punched in the familiar number. She continued before he asked. “And don’t worry. I’ll make no mention of the Pyr. We have a deal.” She met his gaze. “Although I can’t be responsible for whatever anyone else records.”
“I can’t ask for more,” Rafferty said, then caught her close. The darkfire burned with new vigor as he kissed her, and Melissa closed her eyes against its vivid sapphire radiance. Rafferty kissed her as if they had all the time in the world, but he still left her yearning for what they might do afterward.
Melissa hoped they would have the chance.
“You are healing,” he said, his words both gruff and cautious. “That may be the point of the firestorm.”
Melissa wanted so much to give him his desire. “We could adopt. It wouldn’t be the same, but…” she began, but he put one finger over her lips to silence her.
“You must trust in the goodness of the universe,” he murmured, his words low and melodic. “You must believe there is a purpose, even if you cannot see it from where you stand. You must recognize that everything that came before has brought us here, and that what follows will be right.” He smiled. “That’s one lesson I did take from Pwyll.”
Melissa smiled beneath his fingertips. “And you must know that sometimes we have to choose. Sometimes we have to make our choices and shape our futures, instead of waiting passively for whatever comes along. The future belongs to those who claim it.”
“Spoken like a true survivor,” Rafferty mused, his eyes glowing. “Note how our views complement and complete each other. We could be a powerful pair.”
She caught her breath, hearing his uncertainty. What if Rafferty didn’t come back?
What if Magnus won?
Melissa couldn’t imagine her life without this man with his penetrating gaze, his patience, and his romantic perspective. She didn’t want to tell him to be careful; she didn’t want to sound worried or lacking confidence in him.
Even though she was worried.
“Kick his ass,” she whispered. “For both of us.”
Rafferty nodded. He shimmered for a heartbeat, then shifted shape. He stretched a talon to her, his dragon eyes glittering with resolve. “Let’s go.” Melissa nodded and Rafferty scooped her up, leaping into the sky.
She would never get tired of this.
Melissa got through to Doug immediately. She explained quickly that she was in London and that there was an earthquake. Just as she anticipated, he was quick to agree to her impromptu reporting. She heard the familiar scurry of the newsroom in the background as they discussed the setup. Doug put her on hold for a minute, and Melissa scanned the damage as Rafferty flew closer. People were too busy with the emergency on the ground to notice a dragon overhead.
For the moment.
Rafferty chose a spot to land, near the subway station entrance.
The entrance had crumbled in on itself.
“Do what you do,” Rafferty murmured, “and I’ll do what I must.”
It was the only way to go forward. Melissa hoped it was enough. “Where will he be?”
“At the epicenter.”
And then he was gone, disappearing into thin air. Melissa’s heart skipped a beat as the line clicked and she heard the familiar music that preceded a special report.
“I’m trying to get you a camera crew, but do what you can in the interim,” Doug said crisply. “You’re on in fifteen.”
“Right. Thanks.” Melissa checked the second hand sweep on her watch. She scanned the area, noting details she could use in her report. She heard the anchor introduce her, took a deep breath, and began.
“Thank you, Juliane. This is Melissa Smith, on the scene in London. The city is being shaken by an earthquake, one that continues even now. I’m in Hampstead, where massive fissures have appeared in the ground. The cemetery on the other side of the heath has been badly affected, but it’s the living who are of greater concern.”
Melissa took a breath. She loved doing this, and the rhythm came back to her as if she’d never been away. “There is dust everywhere, and the earth continues to rumble as screams rise from beneath the street. The Northern subway line runs beneath this area, and there are fears that tunnels have collapsed, trapping unknown numbers of victims within the earth.”
“Are there any damage reports, Melissa?” the anchor asked.
“It’s too early for any official response, Juliane, but I can see there has been considerable damage already. I’m standing at the entrance to the Highgate station of the Underground or the Tube, as the subway is called here. The entire entrance has fallen in on itself. Whoa! There’s another big shake. I can hear people screaming far below, and smoke is emanating from what used to be the stairs to the subway. Emergency vehicles are arriving on the scene, as you can probably hear.”
“I understand that you have only a cell phone, Melissa,” the anchor said, her tone urgent, “but can you send us some images?”
Melissa remembered Doug’s e-mail address. “Absolutely, Juliane.”
“We’ll give Melissa a second to send those images. We’re live on the scene in London, where an earthquake is occurring, with a special report from Melissa Smith.”
The anchor moved to another report, giving Melissa an interval of time to send the shots. Melissa was used to this rhythm and knew she had only seconds to give the anchor the tools she needed to build a compelling dialogue.
“We have a short video from a bystander to show you while Melissa sends us some images, as we bring you more on-the-spot news from the earthquake currently hitting London,” Juliane said. Melissa could envision her turning in her chair and the camera moving to another screen. “This was the scene in Highgate Cemetery, less than two miles from Melissa’s location, just moments ago….”
Melissa had just snapped the last shot and sent it to Doug’s e-mail account when the mobile camera unit from the affiliate station came rocketing around the corner. She waved them down and introduced herself, then pointed up the street.
“I think there must be an emergency exit up there, for the subway. There are people coming out, and the ambulances have gone straight there.”
“Hop in,” the tech said. “I’ll get you wired up by the time we’re there, so you’ll be able to hear them at the desk.”
“Perfect! Thanks.” Melissa was excited to be back at work, but she was worried about Rafferty all the same.
She realized suddenly that she could still feel the tingle of the darkfire. There weren’t any blue flames; she supposed Rafferty was too far away from her for that.
But she could feel that sparkle of desire, that seductive heat that made her mouth go dry.
It was reassuring in several ways. Melissa figured she could feel the firestorm only because Rafferty was alive. And she knew she’d be able to find him, no matter what happened, by following that alluring heat.
She wasn’t going to lose him on a technicality.
Rafferty raced after Magnus. He couldn’t smell the old Slayer, so he headed directly for th
e epicenter of the damage. He followed the vibrations to the heart of the damage.
He found himself deep in the earth, in a subway train that was almost broken in half. The debris had fallen on top of the car, crushing it beneath the weight of brick and stone and concrete. A live wire hissed and sparked to one side, outside the car.
Inside the train, there was no power. There were bodies strewn through the car, and blood flowing where the car had been crushed. He heard a woman saying her prayers softly, and several people were crying.
A man was hammering on the end door of the car with his fists in desperation, a small crowd of perhaps twenty people gathered behind him. Most were quietly panicking, their gazes flicking to the bodies broken beneath the collapsed debris.
There were more people trapped in the next car.
“Where did you come from?” the man demanded, staring at Rafferty.
The earth shuddered again, and the trapped passengers screamed as one.
Rafferty chose for the moment to help humans and spoke with authority. As was so often the case, his calm manner soothed those around him.
“We have to go out through the cars,” he instructed. “We must avoid the live electrical wires.”
“But they’re locked!” the man said, his voice rising. “Only the ones to the tracks are opening.”
Rafferty broke the door open with his fist, kicking it into the space between the cars. The man stepped back with awe. Rafferty did the same with the entrance to the next car, then led the group there. “Hurry!” he said. He kicked out the door at the end of this car, which was the last, and stared into the darkness. “Stay away from the tracks. There’s an emergency exit just ahead on the right, and you can climb to the street.”
People began to file past him, moving quickly now that they had been given a plan. They supported one another and stayed on the side of the tunnel as Rafferty had instructed.
“How’d you do that?” the man asked, his gaze assessing.
Rafferty chose not to answer, confirming instead that all who had been left behind were dead. He realized that the woman he had heard praying was still doing so, her voice rising and falling softly as she recited her prayer. One of her legs was trapped under the wreckage, and there was blood on her skin from her efforts to free herself. She was pale and her eyes were closed, only her lips moving.
At the sound of his tread on the floor, her eyes flew open. “Don’t leave me!” she begged, stretching out a hand to him. The earth shook once more, vibrating with such enthusiasm that Rafferty feared they would both be trapped.
He bent down and spoke to her as he looked at the damage. He supposed the leg would be broken and perhaps beyond repair no matter what he did.
“We should be able to do it together,” said the man who had tried to open the door. Rafferty was surprised that he had lingered behind.
“I will do it, but you must look away.”
“Why? I already saw you bust down those doors.” The man smiled a little. “Afraid I’ll find out you’re Superman in disguise?”
“Avert your gaze, now!” Rafferty roared, and the man stepped away, even as he did as he was told. “Both of you!” No sooner had their eyes closed than Rafferty shifted shape.
In his dragon form, Rafferty easily tore away the stone and metal that were trapping the woman. After shifting back, he pulled her from the wreckage with care, then eyed the man. “Can you help her?”
The man’s eyes were round. Rafferty feared he had looked instead of keeping his eyes closed, but there was nothing to be done about it for the moment.
“You bet,” he said, putting his arm around the woman’s waist and urging her toward the exit. She winced as she limped, her one leg obviously broken.
But she gritted her teeth and held on to the man. “I can do it,” she said. “Just please don’t let go.”
“I won’t,” he vowed. Rafferty watched as the pair made steady progress toward the next car. The man glanced back at the end of the car. “Aren’t you coming?” he asked Rafferty.
“I have another quest to pursue,” Rafferty said.
“And here I thought you’d forgotten about me,” Magnus taunted in old-speak. Rafferty caught a glimpse of jade green, that salamander diving into the rubble.
He lunged after it, snatching at the salamander. He had Magnus in his grip long enough to see that his tail was gone and that he was oozing black blood from the broken stump; then Magnus disappeared.
It took him longer, and his scent was no longer disguised. It might be a feint, but Rafferty believed his opponent was fading.
He followed him immediately, just barely hearing the man’s muttered oath of wonder as he disappeared.
“We’re back with Melissa Smith, live from London,” Juliane said. “Melissa, can you give us any kind of an update?”
Melissa gripped her microphone and nodded to the cameraman. One man had led the others out of the exit, his clothes covered in dust and his expression revealing that he was shaken. He’d helped a woman with a damaged leg to the ambulance but didn’t appear to be otherwise injured himself. Melissa knew a hero when she saw one, and the cameraman had caught video of the man leading the others to safety.
“Hello, Juliane,” she said. “Survivors are emerging from an emergency exit to the subway system, and we have several who are willing to talk to us. Sir, can you tell us what happened down there?”
“There was an earthquake, and the tunnel started to fall in,” the man explained. He shook his head. “It was terrifying. We could hear the concrete and bricks of the tunnel falling on top of the car. It happened so quickly. The train stopped and the lights went out. I guess that was when the power failed.” He shoved a hand through his hair and licked his lips, disturbed even by the memory. “Then this avalanche of rock fell, crushing the car in the middle.”
“It was broken in half, then, sir?”
“We couldn’t see the other end of the car. Most people managed to get out of the way, but some…” His throat worked, and Melissa put a hand on his shoulder, hoping to comfort him.
“But I understand you organized the others and led them out. These people now getting help from the emergency crews have you to thank.” She heard Doug giving instruction to run the video they’d already fed to the station.
“Not just me,” the man said, his tone firm. “There was another guy who helped.”
“And who was that?” Melissa said, scanning those being given assistance.
“He’s not here anymore. He just appeared there, right after the worst of it. He kind of took charge, helped us regain our senses, and reminded us what to do.”
“And he’s not with you anymore? Is he still down there?”
The man’s lips set. “You’ll say I’m mad, but he just disappeared. He appeared and helped, and then he disappeared.”
“Like a guardian angel, then?”
“Not quite,” the man said with a smile. “He turned into a dragon. He moved the rubble in the middle of the car, to get that lady’s leg free, and when I looked back to thank him, he was gone.”
“He saved my life, that dragon!” the woman shouted from the end of the ambulance. “He can be my guardian angel anytime.”
“Here we go again,” Doug murmured in Melissa’s ear.
“Can you tell me anything about this dragon?” Melissa asked the man. “What did he look like?”
“He was huge, but beautiful. Like one of those reliquaries you see at the museum, made of jewels and gold. Just the way you’d imagine a dragon to look, really, powerful and beautiful.” The man shrugged even as Melissa’s mouth went dry. “His scales looked like opals, with gold edging on them, you know?”
“Yes,” Melissa said quietly. “Yes, I know.”
“As some of you may know,” Juliane said, “Melissa Smith was the reporter to first bring us pictures of dragons in action. We’re going to split the screen here to show you some of those images, in case you haven’t seen them yet, as well as a YouTube vi
deo that has been enormously popular in recent days….”
“You got a story for me?” Doug said in Melissa’s ear.
She thanked the man for his time, shook his hand, and turned away from the camera. “I’m not at liberty to talk about that,” she said to Doug, and heard his dissatisfaction.
“You could get scooped,” he warned.
“I made a promise,” Melissa said. “Keeping my word is the most important thing of all.”
There was nothing Doug could say to that. Melissa knew that she and he lived by the same code. She knew he recognized it, as well.
Because she heard him as he swore softly under his breath.
Chapter 17
Jorge halted behind a shed, eying a cottage. He was utterly still, except for his nostrils. Donovan’s scent led to this cottage on this remote island, and went no farther.
He was in there.
Was the Sleeper there, too?
Jorge didn’t know. He had followed Donovan on impulse, his attention caught by the Warrior’s sudden departure from Minneapolis. Donovan seemed to be on a mission, and a Pyr on a mission could be an interesting source of information.
Now Magnus wanted someone called the Sleeper, undoubtedly connected to Rafferty and the blood duel. Jorge believed he might once again be in the right place at the right time. Everyone knew that Donovan and Rafferty had an old bond. The story he’d heard from the locals, that Donovan had inherited this cottage, was suspect, as well. Jorge sensed a fabricated explanation.
But was the Sleeper here? He stood and he sniffed and he knew there was only one way to be sure.
Behind the house and to the left, the land rose. The spine of the island was slightly elevated, more like hills than mountains, but the land was rocky.
Could there be a cave there?
Jorge considered the house again, his eyes narrowing.
Then he moved suddenly and silently. He stopped about six feet from the door to the cottage and raised his right talon. He slashed downward, slicing through the dragonsmoke barrier woven by Donovan. The mate and child were with the Warrior, but Jorge had no interest in them.
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