Chen nodded wearily. “Yes, yes. All power must remain in its place.”
“Exactly. But I have a problem.”
Chen coughed again, apparently disinterested. “We know this, my friend, but you have worked hard…”
“No, Chen, it got stronger. A lot stronger. It had something to do with the eclipse, maybe, or—” Brandon fell silent.
“Or?” Chen prompted.
“I had my firestorm,” the young Pyr whispered.
“I do not know this term,” Chen lied. “Should I understand?”
Brandon grimaced. “I met a girl and sparks flew, and my dad told me once that this was the mark of the firestorm. I thought it would make everything better and put the dragon in its place.”
“But?” Chen pretended to be confused. What a moron this Pyr was! Of course his dragon had been empowered by the firestorm! But it had been the powder that had pushed that power beyond Brandon’s control.
And the scales in Chen’s possession had shifted that control to Chen. He nearly snarled aloud at Jorge’s audacity.
“You okay?” Brandon asked. He’d leaned back and his expression was wary.
“I am sorry,” Chen said. “I am tired today. Please tell me of your fire, fire…”
“Firestorm. It must have made the dragon stronger. I changed shape without meaning to do it, and it was really hard to change back.”
Chen nodded thoughtfully. He frowned, letting Brandon worry about this a bit longer. “You must strike at the dragon’s heart,” he said finally. “You must weaken it so that it surrenders to your will.”
“Well, how do I do that?”
Chen smiled. “You know. We have done this before.” He sipped his juice, holding Brandon’s gaze.
The young Pyr’s horror was clear. “Another scale? You want me to rip another scale free?”
Chen’s eyes narrowed. This reaction was new and unwelcome. His resistance was the mate’s fault. “Perhaps two would be better,” he suggested, keeping his tone level with an effort.
“No way!”
Chen stifled his irritation. No? Brandon dared to deny Chen’s will? It was outrageous that he should now become defiant.
It was the Firedaughter. She was the one turning Brandon against him. Chen could afford to play this game no longer. He had to seize what he wanted and complete his scheme immediately.
While the mate was gone.
He forced himself to keep a philosophical tone. “It will weaken your adversary.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I think I should keep the rest. Liz thinks it’s wrong that I gave them up, and I agree with her.”
Chen snarled at the acknowledgment of the mate’s influence.
“After all, they’re not growing back the way I’d expected them to.”
Chen wanted to breathe fire.
“Perhaps your Liz knows less of dragons than I do,” he said, keeping his tone mild.
Brandon drummed his fingers on the table, discontented. “What do you do with them, anyway?”
“I admire them. All of nature is beautiful, even that which is dangerous.” Chen gestured to the beach. “Think of the waves you ride, which look so beautiful but maim and kill. They are not unlike your dragon. They must be respected. They must be controlled.”
“No,” Brandon said with finality. “That plan’s not working. I need to find another way.” He leaned closer. “Liz thinks it might be a binding spell. Have you ever heard of that?”
Chen was livid. This was the darkfire’s influence. First Jorge stole from him; then the mate bolstered Brandon’s defiance. Did they not understand that he was destined to rule all? Did they not understand that resistance was futile?
Brandon’s eyes narrowed as he watched Chen. At his expression, Chen looked down at his hands and glimpsed the pale blue shimmer of the light that flashed before the shift to dragon form. There was just the barest flicker of it showing, enough that a person might doubt his own eyes. He quenched it immediately, extinguishing the light that could reveal him for what he truly was.
And he created a distraction. He turned his thoughts to the lightbulb in the fixture hanging over the next table. He murmured to its electric flame and coaxed it to burn too brightly. Using his affinity with fire and his ability to turn that element to his will, he urged the current to a surge of power.
The bulb shattered with a pop, creating both a flash of light and a shower of broken glass. The people seated there leapt up in dismay, the bartender called out, and someone came to sweep up the mess. The bar erupted in noisy chatter.
Brandon looked at the light, then back at Chen’s hands, then inhaled deeply.
Chen almost smiled. The young dragon would detect no scent from Chen, for he had his scent completely disguised. That ability was the gift of the Elixir. Brandon was still suspicious, though, and Chen knew he was trying to reconcile that glimpse of blue shimmer with Chen having no Pyr or Slayer scent.
He’d have to work quickly to secure this prize, before the mate cheated him of it.
Chen sighed. “As you say, we must find another way. I am too tired right now, my old friend. Let me think about this.” He started to push himself to his feet, leaning heavily on the table as if he were too feeble to stand. “You said you must go.”
Brandon immediately reached over and grabbed his elbow. “Let me help you first.”
“No, no. I am just a feeble old man. Your girlfriend will be looking for you.”
Indecision warred in the young dragon’s eyes; then duty won him over. “It’ll just take a minute.”
Chen nearly chortled in delight. The young Pyr was such a fool.
Reckless of the danger before him, Brandon held Chen’s elbow as the Slayer pretended to waver on his feet. “Maybe you should go back to your place and crash for a while. Get some sleep.”
Chen nodded. “Yes, yes. This is very wise advice.” He took a step and deliberately let his knee buckle.
Brandon caught him, and the Slayer smothered his delight with an effort. So gullible! It would almost be too easy to take this one down.
And, really, he deserved no less for daring to refuse Chen’s request.
“Here. I’ll help you. Lean on my arm. It can’t be that far to your place.”
“You know where I stay?”
“Not exactly, but I know it’s in town,” Brandon said with a smile. “You always walk. You can make it back if I help you.”
Chen passed a hand over his forehead. “Ah yes. I forget so much now. You are kind.” He leaned heavily on Brandon and let the young Pyr lead him out to the street.
“You don’t have any more of that powder, do you, Chen?” Brandon asked. “Just a little?”
Chen smiled, feigning ignorance. “You wish to charm your girlfriend?”
“No, um, not really.” The young Pyr smiled. “But maybe it wouldn’t hurt.”
Chen patted Brandon’s arm. “I have a little, not much, but I will share it with you. It is in my room.”
“Excellent. Thanks, Chen. I knew you were a good friend.”
Chen nearly chortled to himself in anticipation. He had been content to stalk his prey before, and had enjoyed persuading Brandon to cooperate in his own destruction. But Chen couldn’t afford to wait any longer.
Especially if his prey was going to become willful.
The house Chen had bought was set back from the others in town, approached by a winding path that was very private. Chen now saw its usefulness as he had never before. The restaurants and shops were busy, and people who were home were inside, preparing for their evening meals. There would be no witnesses when he shifted, attacked, and dragged his victim into his lair. The dragonsmoke barrier was thick and deep, and it would burn like fiery ice if the young Pyr tried to escape, weakening him even more.
Chen would enslave Brandon before dark and double his power besides. Jorge would get a surprise when he returned.
For Chen had no doubt that the Slayer intended to try to bargai
n with him.
Chen chuckled to himself, hiding his anticipation with a cough.
In New York, the Pyr Niall Talbot hung up the phone with a frown. He was in the office of his ecotourism company, alone on a Saturday to catch up on his filing. He’d just talked to Sloane and was intrigued by what his old friend had told him about this firestorm. Of course, he’d felt it spark earlier and had known it was far away. It had a funny feeling to it, though, one that reminded him of the tingle of darkfire.
He shared Sloane’s sense that this young dragon might need the help of the Pyr to see his way clearly through the storm. Not everyone would go to the firestorm, as the darkfire had fed dissent within the ranks of the Pyr. But Niall and Sloane went way back, and Niall trusted his friend’s assessment of the situation.
If Rox agreed, they would go.
Niall had already pulled up the Web site for the Billabong Pipeline Masters when his partner Rox came up the stairs from her tattoo shop. He smiled when she peeked around the corner of his door.
“Am I interrupting serious work?”
“No. Check this out.” Niall clicked through to the brief résumé of one of the wild-card contestants, Brandon Merrick. One glance at the young Pyr and he knew his mate would be up for the trip.
“Nice tribals,” Rox said, peering at the screen. Niall wasn’t surprised that she was most interested in the surfer’s tattoos. Tribal tattoos were more graphic in design than Rox’s own designs and usually rendered in black only. Rox worked with a veritable rainbow of colors. “That one’s unusual,” she said, pointing to the design on his arm.
“Is it? I thought they were just different designs.”
“No, no.” Rox was looking intently at the shot. She pushed Niall’s hand aside and took control of the laptop, zooming in on the tattoo of choice. It was a spiral. “They’re symbolic, deeply so. In a lot of South Pacific cultures a tattoo artist is a kind of shaman. He chooses the tattoo design for the customer on the basis of his understanding of that person’s needs.”
She focused on one of the other tattoos. “This one is a protection symbol, usually used for someone who tends to be targeted by others. This one is for a warrior, someone who fights, usually someone idealistic and driven by principle.” Rox returned to the spiral tattoo that had initially intrigued her. “This spiral, though, is shamanistic in itself.”
“For a shaman?”
“Or a seer. Someone who ventures into uncharted turf. Physical or psychic.”
“Like a Dreamwalker,” Niall suggested. “You could give me one.”
Rox smiled at him and shook her head. “No. It’s more than copyright or intellectual property. It’s not my area of expertise and I’m not going to trespass. This is the work of a shaman, chosen by him for this guy, and it’s powerful stuff.”
“Powerful enough to protect him from Slayers?”
Rox looked at Niall in astonishment. “He’s Pyr? This surfer is a Pyr?”
“He had his firestorm this weekend.”
Rox looked back at the screen. “That’s not the only reason you’re looking at this, is it? You think he’s in trouble.”
“I have a bad feeling. Sloane, too.”
“So do I.” Rox shook her head. “Someone gave him these designs for a reason, and knowing how you guys are, his big fight is going to be now, during his firestorm.”
“Because he has something to lose.” Niall took Rox’s hand in his and squeezed her fingers.
He watched her swallow; then she nodded. “My sister will take the boys, if you want to go.”
Niall got to his feet. “I want to go, but we’ll all go. I can feel the darkfire, and I don’t trust it. I want us all together.” He smiled for Rox. “Erik and Quinn are going tonight. If we hurry, we can get to Chicago and be on the same flight.”
Rox rolled her eyes and grinned. “No dragon flights? That’s the best part of travelling with you!”
“Not all the way to Hawai‘i, when we’re not sure what we’ll find when we get there.”
“Hawai‘i!” Rox cried in delight. She looked back at the Web site displayed on the laptop, then slapped her forehead. “Of course. I’m packing my tattoo guns, then I’ll be ready to go. We can buy sunscreen and bathing suits on the beach.”
Niall caught her close and gave her a searing kiss. “I love how decisive you are.”
“That’s not all you love about me,” Rox teased, her eyes dancing. “But we’ll review that later. Let’s go!”
Chapter 9
There was something weird going on.
Brandon felt as if his senses were on full alert, the way they had been when he’d sensed the earthquake that morning well before it had started. He felt edgy and on the cusp of violence, as if his dragon was going to break free once again.
It must be because Liz had left. She would be halfway down the island by now, and sheer distance from her was giving his dragon more power.
He was disconcerted by the shimmer of blue that he thought he had seen around Chen. Had he imagined it? Because even he, with his rudimentary dragon powers, could smell a Pyr when he paid attention, and Chen smelled completely human. Were his eyes playing tricks on him? Was that part of the dragon gaining the upper hand?
One thing Brandon knew was that he had to solve this and get to Liz.
All he had to do was get a bit of that powder at Chen’s. Maybe there was some residue trapped in the container he had, enough that Liz could test it. He wasn’t going to open the container and risk losing whatever remained inside. Liz could do it.
The man leaning on his arm was almost a ghost of what Chen had been when Brandon had first met him. He really must be dying. He certainly didn’t have a lot of strength. Brandon was practically carrying him. He felt sorry for his old friend, just fading away without any family or friends beside him.
Well, except Brandon.
How could Sloane suggest that Chen was a Slayer? It was the same as his father making pronouncements about his human friends, wanting control of Brandon’s life. And Sloane was acting like Brandon’s dad, too—just popping up unexpectedly with ideas and demands and plans. Brandon resented that Sloane had tried to influence Liz, and he could have done without Sloane telling her about the baby.
Brandon had wanted to do that himself.
He didn’t blame Liz for believing Sloane’s suspicions. She didn’t know Chen. She didn’t know anything much about the Pyr. And she was understandably angry with him for not telling her the whole truth.
Brandon wished he had. At least she knew some of it, and it had been only a day. He was doing better than his own father.
And he was going to do even better than he had so far.
He slanted a glance at the frail man hanging on to his arm. He must have imagined the blue shimmer that had seemed to dance around the perimeter of Chen’s body. Brandon had caught only the barest glimpse of it, so little that he didn’t trust his eyes. Chen couldn’t be a Slayer, not without smelling like a dragon shifter. That shimmer must have had something to do with that lightbulb exploding. Like the light in it had gone crazy or something.
Still, Brandon couldn’t dismiss his uneasiness.
What was Liz refusing to tell him? Why did she get all sparky when she was angry with him? What was she afraid of?
It took a thousand years for them to get across the street, a thousand anxious years as cars swerved around them and Brandon thought about the time passing. Chen seemed to move more and more slowly, as if he were going to run out of steam in the middle of the road. Brandon again felt uneasy at the idea of leaving him alone.
“Chen, do you have any family or close friends I should call for you? It seems like maybe you should have some company tonight.”
Chen coughed. “No family. All dead. No friends.” He gave Brandon a weak smile. “Just one good friend. It is enough.”
Brandon felt a twinge of guilt. Should he stay with Chen tonight? It would be awful to leave him to die alone, but Brandon really had to pursue
Liz.
“You know that powder, Chen?”
“I know it well.”
“What is it, really?”
Chen gave him a surprisingly sly smile. “Ancient Chinese secret,” he said, and Brandon was startled by his sense that Chen was messing with him. His manner had suddenly changed so much. Chen never made jokes, and he’d spoken both quickly and clearly.
Without an accent.
The look in his eyes had almost been predatory.
And his eyes had shone as they never did.
Brandon’s dragon snarled with new vigor.
“I beg your pardon?” Brandon asked. They stepped onto a path that twisted away from the main road and headed toward the mountains. It wound from one side to the other, making a course that reminded Brandon of a snake.
His dragon disliked that their destination was hidden by foliage.
In fact, the vegetation grew surprisingly dense on either side of the path, blocking the views of the surrounding houses. The hair prickled on the back of his neck, and he found himself agreeing with his dragon’s distrust of the situation.
He felt threatened. That’s what was the same as earlier that morning. His dragon had responded exactly like this right before the earthquake—right before the ceiling had fallen and could have killed Liz.
There was a risk or a danger lurking on this path. Did someone intend to mug Chen because he was a weak old man? Were they going to get jumped by some kid? Brandon scanned the shadows on either side, looking for trouble.
Chen shuffled his feet as they walked, nodding. “It is an old secret remedy,” he said, sounding more like his usual self. “The grandfather of my grandfather made it first and he taught me.”
“Your grandfather’s grandfather?” Brandon asked, thinking that Chen was getting confused. No human could live that long. “But what’s in it?”
Chen chuckled, and it was a surprisingly dark sound. “It is secret.”
“Can’t you tell me? One friend to another?” Brandon smiled when Chen glanced up, trying to look friendly and trustworthy.
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