She had recognized him on sight and knew his name.
Sophie.
“There are procedures,” he told the intent little girl, “and there are people who must agree to this, but I will try. You must remember everything and answer all the questions.”
“You can’t leave me, not now.”
“I will do my best.” Rafferty offered his hand to her, and she put her small hand trustingly into his. They climbed down the pile of rubble together, and she turned to look back at the shattered apartment.
“Good-bye,” she said, waving at the window. “Goodbye and thank you, Isabelle.” She smiled up at him. “She’s happy now. She wanted to go with her parents.”
Rafferty wasn’t sure what to say. His thoughts swirling, he led the little girl toward the ambulance where Melissa was helping the injured. He watched Melissa’s care and compassion, watched how she made every person feel so special, and knew she had done the same for him. He was honored to have her as his mate, and he knew their partnership would stand the test of time.
“That’s the television lady,” Isabelle said, awe in her voice. “I saw her on the television today.”
“That’s my lady,” Rafferty said. “I’m hoping she’ll be my wife.”
“She’s the television lady,” Isabelle said sternly. “You can’t make up stories about people, not ones that aren’t true.”
Rafferty smiled, enjoying that the child thought he was lying. “I’ll ask her. You’ll see.” He extended his hand and she gripped his fingers, her trust tearing at his heart.
Could this truly be Sophie, in a new skin?
Could he manage to adopt her? Rafferty wouldn’t beguile anyone. He wouldn’t use his powers to manipulate others, even to get what he wanted. He’d follow the official protocol and hope that all would come right.
He had to believe he wasn’t the only one who wanted Sophie to have another chance at love.
Melissa was both exhausted and invigorated by the time the crew called it a day. The damage reports had slowed, and the victims seemed to be mostly under care. She thanked the anchor and removed her wiring, thanking the crew for their help. The cameraman gave her a thumbs-up as they packed everything away. When they drove away, her shoulders sagged.
But she felt the shimmer of the darkfire, the heat of the firestorm growing at her back. Knowing exactly who was there, she turned to find Rafferty standing about twenty feet away. He looked tired and dusty, that wound scabbed on his throat. But his eyes glowed, and his smile gave her new strength.
The darkfire had been a gift on this day, telling her that he was alive even when they were apart. She realized it had been her real anchor in the earthquake that had consumed London; Rafferty’s presence in her life was not something she wanted to lose.
She noticed then that a little girl stood beside him. She was solemn, her chestnut hair long and wavy, her eyes as dark as Rafferty’s. She must have been about five years old, and she was dusty, as well.
“This is Isabelle,” Rafferty said. “She has suggested that we adopt her.”
Melissa’s heart skipped at the implications in that sentence. Isabelle would never be a son, much less a dragon shape shifter. Would her presence in their lives satisfy the firestorm, though? Would it satisfy Rafferty’s desire for a child? Melissa dared to hope that adoption could be a solution for her and Rafferty, just as it was for so many people.
Plus the notion of raising a child with Rafferty and making a life with him was very, very appealing. She liked that he was prepared to compromise. He wanted her enough to accommodate her reality.
And she was more than ready to accommodate his.
Melissa cleared her throat. “We should talk about this later.”
“You’re on,” Rafferty said with a smile, and extended his hand to her. Melissa went to his side, more than glad to feel his hand close protectively over hers. He kissed her fingertips, his eyes shining.
“You do know the television lady!” Isabelle said, then considered Melissa. “He says you’re his lady.”
Melissa smiled at Rafferty, then at Isabelle. Her heart was pounding. “I’d like to be.” Rafferty’s grip tightened, and she hoped he never would let her go. He felt good—strong and loyal and reliable. “Did you find the Sleeper? Is he awake?”
Rafferty frowned. “Not quite.”
“What about Magnus?”
“Dead,” Rafferty said with a satisfaction that echoed Melissa’s. The darkfire flames leapt between them, turning her thoughts in a predictable direction. She was so relieved that Rafferty had survived his challenge. She wanted to celebrate that fact, and she smiled as the heat of desire slid through her body. Her gaze met his, and she knew their thoughts were as one.
“Not yet,” he whispered, pressing a hard kiss to her temple. Melissa closed her eyes as his touch weakened her knees. “We’ll talk shortly, but not yet.”
“I’ll wait,” Melissa whispered, and her reward was the flash of his smile. He held fast to her hand and to Isabelle’s as they headed toward his house.
Something was wrong.
It wasn’t just that the darkfire hadn’t been as divisive as Chen had planned. It wasn’t that he hadn’t been aware of the Sleeper, or that the Pyr had added that lost member to their ranks.
Something else—someone—had been awakened by the darkfire.
A woman.
And Chen didn’t know who she was.
Chen didn’t like surprises. He didn’t like the sense that he had missed something, or that there was anything he didn’t know. The woman’s presence troubled him.
He sensed her come closer. He heard her come all the way from North America, moving steadily. He heard her footsteps on the mountainside; he heard her seeking his refuge.
He knew she tracked him.
This could only mean that she could feel the power of his spell casting. How? Chen was intrigued, even as he worried about her steady approach. She crossed his dragonsmoke. She evaded his traps. She came steadily onward, no small scent of sorcery about her.
He heard her trudge through the tunnel that led to his cave, smelled her human form, and felt his lip curl in disdain.
He might have slaughtered her, if not for his curiosity.
He might have captured her, if not for his surprise.
For it was not a human who ultimately entered his cave. He was ready for that, guarding the portal in dragon form, dragonfire ready to be loosed.
It was a snake of vibrant green that slithered over the threshold. No natural creature, it was a serpent with poisonous fangs and glittering eyes. It exuded malice and gave Chen the sense that it was not what it appeared to be.
How could she take this form?
He was so shocked that he remained still as she slithered close, coiled, and reared back to strike.
Then she shifted shape, becoming a slender young woman with short red hair. Her lip curled in similar disdain as she surveyed him, and her eyes glittered as coldly as the serpent’s had.
“I’m Viv Jason. You’re the one who loosed the darkfire.”
Chen ceded nothing. He shifted to his shape of an old man, noting how she straightened. He chose to let her believe in her superiority—at least until he knew the fullness of her powers. “What do you want?”
She smiled a mercenary smile that Chen could respect. “To destroy the Pyr, one dragon at a time.”
“I have no need of a traitor at my door. You have come to betray me, to steal from me.”
“Wrong. I’ve come to ally with you.” Viv didn’t flinch from his hard look. “I owe you a debt for loosing the darkfire.”
“I have no need of your aid.”
“Think again,” she said. She muttered a word Chen could not hear clearly, and all the flames burning in the cavern leapt high simultaneously. She spread her hands, and they were extinguished.
The cavern smelled of smoke, but Chen could still see her. So, she had mastery over fire.
Interesting.
&nbs
p; What else could she do?
Could he humor her to learn her skills?
He used his own command of the element of fire to relight the lantern flames in his sanctuary, one wick at a time. When the cavern glowed with their light, she inclined her head slightly, acknowledging his skill.
“Why would you eliminate the Pyr?” he asked softly.
Her eyes narrowed, her old-speak resonating in his thoughts like a toxin. “Because they owe me.”
Chen considered the intruder. She was attractive. She was mercenary. She wanted something he also desired.
And he wondered whether she could be the one to bring him the Pyr with the affinity for air.
Chen smiled, prepared to consider an alliance.
Whatever she was.
Eileen was holding Zoë close, uncertain what to expect. The earth finally stilled, and she heard sirens. She turned on the news, only to find Melissa providing special reports. She listened and watched, sighing with relief at the eyewitness report of an ebony dragon being among the three that had closed the Thames Barrier.
Did she dare to hope that Erik had been wrong?
Zoë squirmed as the news became less dire. “Dada,” she insisted, and Eileen decided to trust her daughter. Whether this was a Wyvern instinct or simply sharp Pyr hearing, Zoë might know better. Eileen put the toddler down, and Zoë scampered toward the stairs. She began to climb them on her hands and knees, heading with determination toward the summit.
Eileen scooped up Zoë and carried her upstairs, her heart pounding with anticipation. On the upper landing, Zoë gestured to one of the bedrooms, her fingers outstretched. Eileen went to the closed door and listened.
Her eyes widened as she heard someone breathing inside. She’d been sure they were alone in the house.
She turned the knob silently and eased the door open. The room was in half darkness, the blinds closed. The house had been shaken by the earthquake but not damaged, and a few books had fallen onto the floor.
But what snared Eileen’s attention was the man sleeping there on the daybed. He looked to be young, but with long hair and a long flowing dark beard. He was naked and pale, and he slept deeply, his lashes dark on his cheeks.
And she had no idea who he was.
How had he gotten into the house? What kind of intruder would break into a house, only to go to sleep? Nude? What should she do? Where was Rafferty?
Zoë pointed to the roof with one chubby finger. “Dada,” she said, and sure enough Eileen heard the sound of dragon talons on the roof one instant after her daughter spoke. Knowledge or a guess? Eileen didn’t know.
She also heard the kitchen door opening downstairs and the low rumble of Rafferty’s voice. She sagged against the doorframe in relief. The Pyr were back.
Was Erik truly with them?
Alive?
The access to the attic opened, and Eileen caught her breath. Sloane came down the stairs first, giving her a tight smile that did nothing to reassure her. A tanned man with auburn hair descended next, and she assumed that this must be the Brandt who had vowed to kill her partner.
Eileen didn’t smile at him.
She gasped when Erik descended. He looked tired and not appreciably less grim than he had when he’d left. Zoë crowed for him, and he caught her up. He met Eileen’s gaze, and she saw that he was still uncertain.
Then his gaze slid past her, and his eyes lit with surprise.
“Pwyll!” he murmured, then frowned. “But how can this be?”
Eileen assumed the intruder had woken up and that Erik knew him, but when she turned, there was no one behind her. And the angle dictated that Erik couldn’t see the man who still slept on the daybed.
“Who’s Pwyll?” she asked.
“My dead grandfather,” Rafferty said, appearing on the stairs.
“Dead?” Erik echoed. “But he’s standing here before us, as alive as can be.”
Pyr and Eileen all looked to the place Erik indicated. There was no one visible there. Eileen saw doubt in the expressions of Brandt and Sloane, and guessed what they were thinking. She took a deep breath and dared to make a suggestion.
It was a far more appealing notion than that her partner was either losing his marbles or going to die.
“Maybe your vision of walking among the dead just means that you’ll be able to see them,” she suggested. “Not that you’re destined to join them anytime soon.”
Erik blinked, then looked back at the specter only he could see. He seemed to listen, then nodded slowly. “Pwyll agrees with you. He says it’s a new facet to my abilities.” Erik smiled at her, his relief clear. “Pwyll also says that it takes the clear vision of a mate to show a Pyr the truth.”
Eileen almost collapsed in her relief. “But there’s still one last question,” she said, indicating the sleeping intruder. “Who’s this guy?”
And the Pyr crowded into the doorway to see.
Melissa followed Rafferty to the upstairs bedroom, the doorway already crowded with the other Pyr. She heard the rumble of their discussion and wondered what they were talking about.
Then she peered into the room and knew.
So this was the Sleeper.
He certainly was soundly asleep. The Pyr gathered around him, staring down at his relaxed form. Zoë even touched him, but he didn’t move. Isabelle hung back, holding fast to Rafferty’s hand. Melissa noticed that she had a fascination with that black and white ring on Rafferty’s hand—unlike Zoë, Isabelle didn’t touch the ring.
Melissa had called the authorities en route to Rafferty’s house, and—given the situation and her visibility—had been granted permission to keep the child with them until the morning.
Rafferty made quick introductions in the spare bedroom, keeping his voice low. Melissa was awed to be standing among the dragons she’d been reporting on all day, the ones that had worked to save the city. They, however, were intent upon the Sleeper.
They certainly took their prophecies seriously. Melissa pulled out her notebook and read the verse again.
“Shouldn’t he be waking up?” Sloane asked. “That’s what’s foretold, after all.”
“But the darkfire still burns,” Rafferty said, reaching for Melissa to show the truth. Those flames leapt and danced. If anything, they were burning brighter and hotter.
They made it hard for Melissa to think about anything other than getting Rafferty naked.
“Was he here all along?” Sloane asked.
Eileen and Melissa shook their heads, along with Rafferty. “He was in a sanctuary, in Wales, until less than an hour ago,” Rafferty said. “He was stirring there, and I left him with Donovan.”
“Then how did he get here?” Erik asked.
No one answered.
“Same way you got here?” Melissa asked Rafferty, and he shrugged. She flipped back through her notes, sensing that she was missing something.
“What happened to Magnus?” Erik asked.
“Dead,” Rafferty confirmed. “Donovan is fine. We left Jorge with Magnus, sealed into the Sleeper’s former sanctuary.” He grimaced. “He was intent upon eating Magnus, to get the last of the Elixir.”
Sloane grimaced.
“Magnus was in dragon form,” Rafferty said. “That feast will take a while.”
“Then he’ll have to get free,” Erik said with satisfaction. “Good work.”
“Excellent work,” Sloane agreed, nodding at the Sleeper. “Which leaves us with the sleepyhead.”
“And the darkfire,” Eileen added.
“Wait a minute,” Melissa said, noticing something in the verse. Maybe she had the solution. She indicated Erik. “You’re seeing Pwyll, Rafferty’s grandfather, right?”
Erik nodded.
“And Pwyll’s the one who enchanted the Sleeper in the first place, right?”
Rafferty nodded. “He could enchant anyone or anything. The Cantor’s song was potent.”
“And you refused to learn it. And Pwyll refused to teach anyone else, be
cause he was determined to teach only a Pyr with a pure heart about his skill, so it wouldn’t be used for ill.”
The Pyr looked at her in amazement.
Melissa nodded. “Magnus told me that he tried to learn Pwyll’s gift. He said he befriended Rafferty in the first place to try to learn the Cantor’s song.” She saw that they hadn’t guessed this.
“Could he have targeted you?” Erik asked.
Rafferty nodded thoughtfully. “I was not that suspicious in those days. And he always collected arcane knowledge.”
“Until the Sleeper wakes to his fate; until the Cantor’s legacy is claimed,” Melissa said, repeating the verse.
“Someone has to learn Pwyll’s skill to end the dark-fire,” Eileen guessed.
“I’ll bet that you have to use what you know of Pwyll’s abilities, in order to awaken the Sleeper,” Melissa said to Rafferty.
Rafferty frowned. “But it is a complicated art, and I never learned much of it from him. It is not something with which one would err….”
“I’ll bet you remember more than you think you do,” Melissa insisted, sensing that she was right. “Who watched Pwyll sing the most? Who saw him at work most often? Who heard the most of his stories?”
Rafferty looked shocked by the notion, but he rubbed his chin. “I always believed it to be wrong to use enchantment….”
“What if you chose to use it for good? To end the darkfire?” Melissa demanded. He eyed her, and she saw that he was becoming convinced.
“Pwyll says his craft wasn’t his sole legacy,” Erik said.
“He left you the stone!” Melissa said with sudden realization.
“Sigmund said there were three stones; that the Cantor and his kind were the custodians of them,” Erik said.
“And of the Sleeper,” Sloane said. “My father was fascinated by the potential power of darkfire. He spent his whole life wanting to see it for himself.” He sighed and shook his head. “You have no idea how many crystals he collected, or how many expeditions we took, in search of one with darkfire locked within it.”
“Pwyll knows,” Erik said softly.
Melissa didn’t need any more assurance than that. She bolted down the stairs and retrieved the crystal. It was still lit with the darkfire’s blue light, and the spark inside it became brighter when she picked it up. Melissa raced back up the stairs, even as she heard the rumble of thunder overhead. She skidded into the room and smiled at Rafferty.
Darkfire Kiss Page 31
