by Lili Zander
Think of this as just another job.
Okay. I’m walking into the castle of the most dangerous dragon mage in the world. What do I need?
Speed. Strength. Protection.
Pieter Van Den Berg. Of course. The tattoo artist had been working on a Do-Not-Notice rune. It hadn’t worked on my mates, but maybe it’ll work on Zyrian. If I can sneak into his castle and free Silas without a confrontation with the Dark Dragon…
It’s two in the morning in Manhattan. I dial Pieter’s number anyway, and he picks up the phone after a couple of rings. “Hello?” he mumbles sleepily.
“Pieter, it’s Aria.”
“Aria?” His voice sharpens. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m going to steal from the dragons once again,” I reply. “Well, one dragon in particular.” I cross my fingers, hoping Pieter has something good cooking up in his workshop. “You got anything that’ll help me?”
He sighs. “Listen, if you need money, Aria, I’ll find you a job. You seemed on good terms with the dragons, but don’t push your luck. There’s no need to tempt fate.”
Tempt fate? My fate was determined five hundred years ago by Maija Essen and Halla Northridottir. I’m doing what has been prophesied.
There’s one thing I’ve been wondering about ever since I learned that I could free the magic in the Bloodstone. If I was to die, why make me the mate of the dragon princes? Why cause their hearts to break?
But now, the answer becomes clear. The Silver Mage knew that the surest way to draw me into this fight was to make me care about the dragons. It would be too easy for me to give Zyrian the Bloodstone in exchange for Silas’ freedom, but I can’t do that. If Zyrian wins, my mates will die. I am ready to sacrifice myself to prevent that from happening.
“Aria?” Pieter sounds tentative. “Are you okay?”
No. “I’m fine. I’ve got to do this job. If you have anything, can you FedEx it to Alaska?” I flip open my laptop—Bastian’s plane has internet access—and search for a tattoo parlor in Nome. “Someone else can apply the ink, right?”
He exhales. “I guess so. Where in Alaska?”
I frown. I don’t trust some random person to tattoo me some magical protection. It’s too risky. It’ll have to be Pieter himself. The South African tattoo artist and I have an often-contentious relationship, but I know he won’t sell me out to Zyrian.
“On second thought, can you get to Nome, Alaska tomorrow?” Goodbye, bank balance. “I’ll pay for a charter flight.”
“Where the fuck is Nome?”
I roll my eyes. “Look on a fucking map, Pieter. Money’s no object. I’ll pay you a hundred grand if you can meet me by…” My voice trails off as I do some calculations in my head. It’s a fourteen-hour flight. If I’m doing the math correctly, I’ll land in Alaska at one in the afternoon, Alaska-time. “Tomorrow at one.”
“I can’t get to Alaska in eleven hours.”
Closer to fifteen, actually, because of the time zone differences, but I let it go. He’ll figure it out on his own. “One hundred thousand dollars, Pieter.”
He sighs heavily. “Fine. I’ll do my best. But not for the money, Aria. Because you’re my friend, and I have a very bad feeling that you’re in over your head.”
100
Bastian
I look at Erik’s white face, and I know that something is badly wrong. “What happened?”
“Aria just called me,” he says, his voice dead. “She’s gone. She said that Zyrian has Silas Archer.”
My heart plunges into darkness. “How?” I demand, reaching for my phone and noticing that it’s been switched off. Fuck. I turn it back on and dial Tomas’ number. “Vallin had at least five panthers watching Archer. Zyrian shouldn’t have been able to get close.”
The line keeps ringing, and my blood turns to ice. Tomas always picks up his calls. “Where is Aria now, did she say?”
Before he can answer, my phone beeps, signaling an incoming text message. I read it grimly. “Wake the others. Aria took my private plane and is en-route to Alaska. We need to go after her.”
Erik nods tightly and leaves. I scroll through my messages and see one from Lukus Hyde, Alpha of Eclipse Pack. Call me.
I dial his number as Casius, Rhys, Mateo, and Erik hurry into my bedroom. “What’s the plan?” Rhys says, his hands clenched into fists.
Hyde answers on the first ring. “Lord Jaeger. Thank heavens. I’ve been trying to reach you for the last hour.”
I put him on speaker phone. “Did Zyrian take Archer?”
He exhales. “It appears to be the case,” he says unhappily. “Last night was a full moon night. Silas was supposed to run with the pack. An initiation rite. When he didn’t show, I went to his apartment to see what was keeping him.”
“And?” Erik breaks in impatiently.
“The guards were dead or dying. Silas was missing. Raedwulf and his friend did this, Lord Valder. I can smell their scent.”
I close my eyes. Tomas Vallin has been at my side for twelve years. Calm, competent, unflappable in a crisis, and fiercely loyal. May he live forever in the halls of Valhalla.
“How did two wolves overcome five panthers?” Casius asks from his corner.
“Vallin’s in the ER right now,” the Alpha responds. “He regained consciousness long enough to tell me what happened. Raedwulf had some kind of magic weapon. It prevented Vallin and the others from shifting.”
Tomas is alive. Pure relief runs through me for a second, and then my fear for my mate comes rushing back.
“The alchemists,” Rhys says flatly. “The poison that was stolen from Kioko Yone. Zyrian strikes again.”
“My Lord Jaeger,” Lukus Hyde says, his words formal. “The Dark Dragon has taken Archer. I cannot allow this. Eclipse will fight to the death to rescue one of our own. We’re on our way to Alaska right now. I ask for your assistance in this matter.”
Mausezähnchen, why didn’t you come to us? Why didn’t you ask for our help?
“You have it.”
I hang up. Casius is already typing something on his laptop. “Listen,” he says. “This is a recording of Zyrian’s call to Aria.”
He hacked into River Comm that easily? Any other day, I’d be annoyed at my data security team. Today, I’m profoundly glad for their incompetence.
We hear Zyrian issue his threat. Bring me the Bloodstone, and your father lives. Fail, and he dies. You have twenty-four hours to get to my castle.
“She’s going to her death,” Mateo says, speaking for the first time. “We have to stop her. Bastian, call the pilot and get him to turn the plane around.”
“No,” Rhys cuts in. “Imagine how Aria would feel if we stopped her from getting to Zyrian. If Silas dies because of our actions, do you think she’ll ever be able to forgive us?” He fixes us with a piercing look. “Do you think we’ll be able to forgive ourselves?”
Mateo nods reluctantly. “You’re right.”
I look up at Mateo. “You translocated us to Paris,” I start. “Can you take us to Alaska?”
He exhales. “I could,” he says, his tone hesitant. “But it will drain my strength. If there’s a battle on the other end…”
He’ll need to conserve his energy. Damn it. The clock is ticking, and while I might have a hangar filled with cars, I don’t own more than one private plane. It’ll take too long for Carl Rohrbach to locate another plane and crew. Time we don’t have.
My phone rings again. Everyone wants to talk to Bastian Jaeger today. Suppressing my urge to bark, I answer. “Yes?”
“Lord Jaeger, it’s Pieter Van Den Berg.” The voice on the other end of the line sounds distinctly shaky. “You asked me to call if I ever needed your help.”
“You heard from Aria?”
“Yes. She’s taking on a dragon. She wants protection.”
Why are you doing this without us, little thief? We’re your mates. Don’t you know we’d die for you?
“Give her whatever she needs. Money’s not i
mportant.”
“She wants me to get to Nome in twelve hours.”
It’s two in the morning for him. The tattoo artist wouldn’t know where to begin. “You’re in Manhattan?”
“Yes.”
“Get to LaGuardia. Call this number when you get there.” I rattle off my assistant Tracy’s phone number. “She’ll get you to a charter plane that’ll take you where you need.”
“Thank you.”
I mutter something in reply and hang up. I call Tracy and tell her to arrange transportation for Pieter, and then stare at the others.
Aria’s preparing for battle. She’ll need us. We cannot allow her to face the Dark Dragon alone. We must get to Zyrian’s castle as soon as possible.
Flying’s out of the question; it’s too far. Magic will drain Mateo. I won’t be able to find a charter in time. I look at the others. “We need transportation,” I say grimly. “Any ideas?”
Casius is already on his phone. “Kioko?” he says into the line. “Your missing vials just turned up in New York. Zyrian’s minions used them to kidnap a wolf under our protection.” His voice turns to steel. “The way I see it, if the alchemists want to avoid all-out war with the five of us, I need a favor. We need to get to Nome.”
He listens to something the alchemist says on the phone and then hangs up. “What are we waiting for?” he demands. “Let’s go. The plane will be ready by the time we get to the airfield.”
I stare at him, open-mouthed. Casius is not typically the threatening sort.
Then again, Aria’s in danger. We’re throwing all the rules out of the window.
This time, it’s personal.
101
Aria
After the longest flight in my life, I finally get to Alaska. I’ve arranged for a car and driver to meet me at the airfield—thank you, black Amex—and I make my way to the motel on the outskirts of town, where I’m supposed to meet Pieter.
Seven hours to go.
I’m running on fumes. I forced myself to sleep on the plane, knowing that I needed to be rested for my confrontation with Zyrian, but I’m still exhausted, the ever-present fear in my heart sapping my energy.
The car pulls up in the parking lot. I get out, thanking the driver. Once he leaves, I dial Pieter’s phone. “Are you here?”
“Room 12.” Pieter’s tone is strained.
I stride toward it. The door swings open as I near. My mind is blanketed with worry for Silas. Because I’m so distracted, I don’t sense the danger until it’s too late.
“Aria Archer, I’ve been waiting for you.”
Drakkar Raedwulf grabs my arm and pulls me into the room, shutting the door behind him. I move to break his hold but freeze when he holds up a vial. “You know what this is?”
Kioko Yone’s magic suppressant. Damn it. “You took Silas, didn’t you?” My voice is bitter, and my blood boils with rage.
“I had no other choice,” he replies. There’s a note of regret in his voice, one that sends a jolt of shock through me. I remember what Raedwulf wants with the Bloodstone. To free the magic trapped inside his kid so that he’ll be able to shift.
Then I harden my heart. This wolf killed Uncle Pete. He delivered Silas to Gideon Zyrian. He doesn’t deserve my sympathy.
I look around the room. Pieter’s sitting on a chair, his legs shackled, his hands tied behind his back. Thankfully, he appears unharmed. “Where’s Tall, Dark, and Deadly?”
“Dead,” Raedwulf replies flatly. “I killed him.”
No honor among thieves for this wolf. “Why?” I ask. If I keep him talking, maybe I’ll be able to figure a way out of this mess.
“He went too far. He killed the Norm. He had to die.”
I look up. “Uncle Pete?”
He nods tightly.
I don’t quite understand what’s going on here. “What do you want, Raedwulf?”
“What I’ve always wanted,” he says quietly. “My son can’t shift. I want you to free the magic trapped inside him.”
What did Casius say a long time ago, back at Preston Memorial? “It can’t be done. The gift is passed at birth. If your son can’t shift…” My voice trails away. The magic can’t be restored.
“You could try.” There’s a desperate edge to Raedwulf’s voice. “Please…”
“Why would I help you?” I throw at him. Silas is in Zyrian’s grip because of this wolf.
He holds up the vial. “Nothing this tattoo artist can do will give you an edge over the Dark Dragon,” he says. “But this will hold him for five minutes. It’s the last vial. Help my son, and I’ll give it to you.”
Pieter clears his throat. “What’s in the vial?”
“Something he stole from the alchemists,” I reply, not taking my eyes off the small glass container in Raedwulf’s hand. “From Kioko Yone’s personal stores.”
Pieter inhales sharply. “He’s right,” he admits. “There’s nothing I can give you that’s as powerful as that potion. Take the deal, Aria.”
I close my eyes. I remember what it feels like to be an outsider. To never belong. Raedwulf isn’t an innocent, but his child is. And if I can help…
I’m running out of time. “Fine.” I stare at Raedwulf. “I’m making no guarantees, but I’ll do my best. You give me the vial whether I succeed or fail.”
“You have a deal.”
Raedwulf leads me to a waiting van. The drive is short. The house we pull up at is tiny and dilapidated. The blue paint is chipping off, and the porch is warped. The inside smells musky and unlived in. At the kitchen table, a small boy is coloring with an older woman.
When she sees us, she quickly leaves the room. The little boy looks up, a toothy smile on his face. “Papa!” he says excitedly. Jumping from his chair, he runs to Drakkar, who bends down to catch his small son and swing him in the air. The menacing cruelty that I’ve come to associate with the wolf melts away and is replaced by a loving father.
“Have you been a good boy for Matilda?”
“Yes, papa.” He wraps his arms around his father’s neck and stares at me. “Who are you?”
My lips twitch. “My name is Aria.” Drakkar puts his son down, and the little boy approaches me. I kneel down to his level. “What’s your name?”
“Twistan,” he says with an adorable smile.
“Tristan, it’s very nice to meet you.” I look around the small room and realize the only place to sit is at the table. Seeing the crayons spread out, I decide that it’s probably best to distract the kid. “Would you like to color?”
Without a word, he bounces to the table and immediately resumes coloring.
I take a deep breath and reach for the Bloodstone. What I’m trying to do is impossible. Mateo, who is hundreds of years old and vastly more powerful and experienced than I am, said it couldn’t be done.
I need a miracle.
No pressure.
I reach inside me for my magic. No longer a tightly coiled ball, the strands are pliant. With a little coaxing, they willingly bend to my will.
I focus on Tristan, reaching out to him like I would Mateo, hoping against hope that there is magic inside the boy. If there is even a tiny spark, then maybe I can use my own power to bolster it and make it stronger.
There. The faintest flicker of fire. Just one tiny ember. One small thread of hope.
Concentrating, I push my magic at that small spark. For a second, it seems to flare, but then it fizzles out. I try again with no luck.
Ah. I see what’s going on. There’s a wall around Tristan’s faint magic, one that I can’t break through. I batter against it over and over, but all I’m doing is draining my energy.
I’m not strong enough.
The Bloodstone is hot against my skin. It seems to call me. But I am, it whispers. Use me.
I tug the ruby from around my neck. Squeezing it, I make a split-second decision. I’m going to have to free the magic in Zyrian’s castle. Might as well discover how much control I’ll have.
I pul
l my small pocket knife out. Drakkar instantly starts toward me, his expression threatening, but I wave him away. “I’m not going to hurt your child.”
Tristan is coloring with rapt concentration. He looks up for a second, and Raedwulf smiles reassuringly. “What are you drawing?”
“A lion.” The little boy holds up his book, and I bite back my grin. Tristan’s lion is gloriously multi-colored, and he’s added a set of blue and purple wings. I like this kid.
Back to work. I make a small cut on my finger. “This might get out of control,” I force through dry lips. I can’t believe I’m putting my trust in Drakkar Raedwulf. “Be prepared to take the Bloodstone from me by force.”
He nods tightly.
Gathering my courage, I let my blood drip onto the stone. Instantly it responds, flaring to life. The same dark pull from before is there, but this time I’m expecting it. Knowing I won’t be able to restrain the magic for long, I plunge in.
Ah! I can see the wall more clearly now. I try to ram against it again, pushing with the Bloodstone’s strength, but nothing.
Think, Aria.
Don’t break the wall. Look for a gate.
I circle the barrier that surrounds Tristan’s magic, looking for an opening. Ah, there it is. A small gate, overgrown with creepers, rusty from disuse. I’m making progress.
I feed the stone more blood and focus my attention on the gate. A wave of magic from the Bloodstone surges over me, and I almost go under. My stomach churns at the wrongness of it, and I have to fight the instinct to push it away. Remember Mateo’s lesson with the crystals, I imagine the pure strands of my magic surrounding the taint, cleansing it.
I know I’ve succeeded when the magic flares bright and ruby-red.
Hurry, Aria. You can’t control the Bloodstone much longer.
Using the newly cleansed magic, I push the gate, and it yields with a creak. I’m in. Now to fan Tristan’s magic back to life.
I direct my attention to the small ember I sense within Raedwulf’s cub. This time, when I feed it my strength, the spark grows and doesn’t fizzle out. Excitement courses through me. This is working.
