Poking that live fire, he coaxed a portion of it to spread through him, gathering at the sites of his wounds. The sons of bitches had got him in three places. If he’d had any doubts they’d been targeted for death, this realization banished them once and for all.
Warmth spread in the affected area, as though a high-wattage lightbulb had been switched on there. The fire traveled around and around, getting more intense and more localized, honing in on the source of the pain until it pushed the first bullet out of him. The remaining two followed, ejecting the poison and sealing the wound with the precision of an experienced surgeon. When it was over and the fire had fulfilled its purpose, it died down, leaving him drained. He did his damnedest to prevent from putting all his weight on her, but he could feel himself slipping.
“Let go,” she said. “I got you.”
“I love you,” he replied before the darkness claimed him.
Drat, that dragon must weigh a gazillion tons. Literally! She might be impressive in her beast form, but the laws of nature followed here, as well—she was still considered skinny even in this guise.
A quick glance around as she ducked under the cover of clouds showed her they were close to land. Closing her eyes for a brief moment, she pinpointed her senses on the beacon of the Shadow Bridge veil—a low, pulsing beat that would thrum in the blood of any supernatural creature within a hundred-mile radius.
Honing in on this, she steeled her dragon with ice power and soared ahead. She wouldn’t think of Djibril lying unconscious on her back. She wouldn’t—
Wait, why did she suddenly feel so light? She turned her head around even as her wings flapped and took her forward. What she saw made horror crystalize in every cell of her being. Because a naked human male lay on her back. He had shifted, which meant his power was leaving him. And in these ice-cold temperatures, he’d contract hypothermia within a few beats.
It was imperative she get to Shadow Bridge as soon as possible, so she pushed herself, looked for everything she had in her, even taking sustenance from the dwindling fire energy inside her to channel her through.
She flew and flew and flew. It could’ve been hours, but she hoped it had just been minutes as the shimmery dome over the magical county erased itself to let her pass. Making straight for the castle, she aimed for the lake and crash-landed on the grassy bank with a loud thud. As she’d fallen, her tail had wrapped itself across her body to keep Djibril in place, like a seat belt to prevent him from being ejected upon impact.
The second she could grab her breath, she conjured the glamor of clothes as she shifted into her human shape. Her feet took her to Djibril’s side where he lay on the humid grass. With quick fumbles, she managed to find a pulse on his neck. Weak, but there.
“Hold on, Gabe. Please hold on,” she sent out to him.
“What happened?” a male voice asked.
Kseniya’s throat closed with surprise when she looked up into a face she recognized from the vision Vadim had shared with her. A tall, blond man, too beautiful for words.
The same angel …
“Dieu du ciel, Kiki! Are you all right?” Adri asked as she sailed down the steps to the ground.
“What happened?” the angel asked again.
“Des, we have to get him inside. He will freeze out here like this. Fire dragons cannot tolerate this kind of weather without any cover,” Adri exclaimed.
Yes, at least someone was being sane enough to be proactive.
“They … they tried to kill us, over the Atlantic as we were flying in. He took a few bullets, but managed to use some of the Phoenix power to get the poison out. But it took too much out of him, and he lost consciousness, morphing back to human as we were still airborne …”
It all spewed from her mouth as if the barrier had been removed, but she couldn’t stop the word vomit. The panic was getting hold of her, and—
A soft, warming energy spread out through her whole being, radiating in from her shoulder where the angel had placed his hand. It seemed to her a glowing white light blurred the edges of his palm and her skin. Peace and calm descended over her mind, blanketing her in a cocoon of comfort.
She glanced up into his blue eyes, seeing kindness and honor there. Yes, definitely the same angel who had saved Vadim and Danira’s baby. When he removed his hand, she reeled softly, unsure of her footing, her mind cloudy, almost like being stoned. With a slow blink, she saw the angel stand tall and open his wings, the span of the white, feathery mass wide enough to shelter a hundred humans on each side. He bent and picked Djibril’s prone body, and in a blink, he was gone.
Kseniya opened her mouth to speak, but no word came out. Delicate hands settled on her shoulders, prompting her to take steps toward the stairs leading to the castle. She turned her head to find Adri leading her.
“Come,” the woman said, and she went along as if in a daze.
The maze of corridors went round and round, and twists and turns happened until she grew dizzy. Adri seemed to know her way around, so she let her lead the way. Finally, they came to a door which her host opened, and as she glanced into the room, she could see a big four-poster bed on which lay Djibril.
Strength infused her legs all of a sudden, and she rushed to the bedside, having to hold on to the posts to keep herself upright.
The angel had his glowing right hand over Djibril’s heart. The usually golden-brown skin looked pale, washed out, a tinge of gray creeping into it. No, he couldn’t die.
“He won’t,” the angel said. “Ah, Isaiah.”
She blinked up into the face of a massive black man who now stood in the room with them. His quicksilver eyes roamed over Djibril on the bed, and he exchanged a silent nod with the blond man. As the dark-skinned guy placed both his hands on Djibril’s shoulders, the blond angel removed his touch. White wings spread from Isaiah’s back, not as impressive as the other one’s, and then the glowing light—blinding, this time—poured from his palms to wrap Djibril in its radiance.
What were they doing? That energy had made her feel so sluggish; they’d kill him if it did the same to him.
More cloudiness clogged her brain, and she shrugged away from the blond man who had his hand on her shoulder once again.
“Hush,” he said, seeming nonplussed that she had just removed herself from his energy. “Isaiah is a Healer. Your Djibril will be fine.”
“I …” She wanted to say thank you, but something else fell from her lips. “Who are you?”
He smiled at her. “My name is Desmond. Call me Des, though.”
She blinked. Desmond. She’d heard that name before, and in association with the angels … A gasp tore from her when she put two and two together. This was the ethereal Gideon’s brother, the General of Heaven’s Army, and also the one who was supposed to go get Vadim in London.
“We couldn’t save him,” she blurted out.
He gave a solemn nod. “And that is my fault. If I had been here to bring him back as planned …” He shook his head. “If that idiot hadn’t fucked up so royally—”
Adri had placed a hand on his arm, which had shut him up. His face grew tense, a small muscle ticking along his clamped jawline, but he seemed to hear the silent message the immortal woman was sending him.
And if she paid this heed … They seemed to be communicating in their minds.
They were mated! Adri’s mate was a high-ranking angel, one who had saved baby Séraphine over a century earlier and had also been entrusted with the power to lead the Heavenly armies.
If she’d doubted before the importance of this now-comatose creature, she would no longer do so. So much seemed at stake, they really had to wake her up as soon as possible, and save her unborn baby in the process, too.
But it would all hinge on Djibril giving her the Phoenix power. He had to wake up.
She turned to look at him, still encased in the white light pouring from the Healer’s hands. Then, suddenly, he sat up with a start. Isaiah removed himself from the bed, and after a silent
nod with his general, walked out of the room.
Djibril stared around with wide eyes. When they landed on her, he scrambled on the mattress to reach out to her.
“Easy,” Des said as he placed a hand on Djibril’s chest and pushed him back against the pillows. “I’ve been told the effects of a healing feel a lot like having the worst hangover ever.”
There’d been a hint of humor in his tone, and Adri chuckled. “Very true, indeed.”
Djibril shook his head. “Kiki … You’re okay?”
“She is now,” Des added. “Seeing you wake up has done her a world of good.”
She blushed under his comment. Lore said that angels could read the minds of people—so could demons, apparently. Des seemed to have gotten her number down to the last digit.
“We should leave you to talk and sort things out,” Adri said as she took Des’ hand and started them out of the room.
“Wait, what? No!” Kseniya exclaimed. “Séraphine. We—”
“In good time,” Des said. “You both need to rest.”
“Actually, she’s right,” Djibril said from the bed. He scooted to the edge and swung his legs down. When he appeared to realize he was naked under the counterpane, he glamored some clothes onto him and then stood.
When he reeled and reached for a bed post, she started to rush to him, but stopped at the last minute.
Their mission was almost done, and after that, there would be nothing between them. He’d seen her for the lies she had told, and he hadn’t forgiven her. Shameful enough that her dragon had paid no heed to this state of affairs and had engaged in heavy flirting with his beast on their way over. Mortification filled her when she recalled how she had playfully nipped at his neck before rushing off, giggling. In dragon speak, that was foreplay. If he’d caught her in mid-air, he would’ve been fully in his right to take her in flight as she’d already delivered the invite on a platter.
Thank goodness it hadn’t come to that. Well, yes, it had been through yet another attempt on their lives, but she’d take small comforts where she could.
“Let’s go,” he told Adri and Des, taking her arm as he went along.
“Wait, it’s you who has the power—” she started.
He turned those emerald eyes on her, and the intense stare shut her up.
“You have the memories Vadim wanted you to give to her.”
On a gulp, she nodded and allowed him to pull her along as they followed Adri and Des to Séraphine’s room.
The closed confines smelled even more dank and musty now, a reek of raw, humid earth pungent in the air. Well, pungent to them dragons. Djibril exchanged a glance with her, and she nodded softly. This wasn’t good. They’d gotten here in the nick of time.
He went to her right side, sitting down on the mattress. Kseniya marched to him, knowing without being told what she needed to do. She was as much part of this endeavor as he was.
Lifting Sera’s limp arm, she gently tilted her hand upright. On a glance with Djibril, they both glamored daggers in their hands. He slit his right palm open while she made a gash on the sleeping woman’s hand. He then joined the wounds, mumbling the words of the spell that would use The Power Of The Blood to transfer Vadim’s Phoenix energy into his daughter’s body.
The monitor next to the bed started screeching, an erratic beat that signaled havoc.
Adri left her mate’s side and rushed to the bed where she placed her hand on her daughter’s chest and spoke the words of The Kindling spell to activate the latent power in her system. The staccato words of Enochian—the language of the angels—seemed familiar to Kseniya, but the barrage of spells the witch in the library had put on her had made her forget the actual wording after she’d uttered it that one time. Just as well, really, because no one should have access to this kind of power. Not even the Good side.
The monitor beeps grew in crescendo as Adri was done, and they all stood back and waited to see what would happen next.
“Fight, ma fille,” she heard Adri mutter as she burrowed into Des’ side, his arms around her.
Then a loud sound filled the room. The screen’s lines had gone flat, and only the beat of the baby’s heart monitor, previously at such a low volume it could hardly be heard, echoed in the space. It, too, was growing weak, and weaker …
No, they couldn’t have failed! To do all this, to lose such precious souls as Vadim and Séraphine? It couldn’t happen.
Everyone froze in the bedroom, and time seemed to stand still.
As the baby’s monitor all but dwindled down to nothing, something happened. A burst of light—no, of fire. It seemed to gather from Séraphine’s chest to then explode out of her. Kseniya could clearly see the outline of a Phoenix as the power soared out. She’d seen the same thing in her mind when Vadim had shared the memory of his death with her.
Hushed silence fell over the room, the draping over the bed scorched, flecks of cinders flying in the air.
Both monitors picked up, the beeps and beats now loud and strong.
On the bed, a soft moan sounded, and Sera Dionysios, daughter of Vadim and Danira, opened blue-grey eyes identical to her father’s and blinked at them.
“Mummy?” she croaked.
Adri rushed to hug her, tears pouring down her face as she clung to her daughter as if she’d never let her go.
“Mummy … Mom! Where’s Rafe?”
Her mate, right. Kseniya frowned. Strange how the man wasn’t here when his mate and unborn child had been at death’s door.
Adri exchanged a glance with Des, and his face grew tense once more, that little nerve ticking harder this time.
“He … We couldn’t delay saving your life, mon cœur,” she said as she tucked a flaming red curl behind the girl’s ear.
“Mom, I’m tired.”
“Rest, mon trésor. You are safe here.” She dropped a lingering kiss to her daughter’s forehead, then let her go gently as Sera fell asleep once again.
Looking at her then, Kseniya could see so much of both her biological parents in her. As soon as possible, she would share those cherished memories with her, as Vadim had requested of her.
Silent, they all made it out of the room, Adri stopping in the doorway to gaze with tender longing at her child.
Des placed his hands on their shoulders and herded them away from the corridor, down another intricate series of hallways, until they reached the grand study where they had first met the other two angels, Gideon and Elijah.
The sight that greeted her there stopped her dead in her tracks, as it did Djibril. But he recovered fast, sailing away on rushed steps to get to the unexpected visitor and hug him hard.
Of course, he’d almost died. He would be relieved and happy to be seeing his father standing there next to goal-post-sized Elijah.
“What are you doing here?” he asked when he finally pulled away from the king.
King Anton’s gaze met hers across the room, and she inclined her head and dropped into a curtsy before stepping back up again. “Your Majesty.”
“My dearest Kseniya Dmitriievich. I have heard sad news concerning you. I trust you will accept all my deepest apologies.”
She took hesitant steps into the room, her feet almost skidding on the glistening marble floor. “No apologies necessary, Your Majesty. The …” She faltered on the next words. He must know, to be here now and speaking this way. “The fault lies in my own camp.”
The king nodded. “Djibril had informed me of Elena Sokolova’s treason.”
Silence descended over the room, before Djibril thumped his father on the shoulder.
“But what are you doing here? How and when did you come? We only arrived about an hour ago.”
Not even close to what a dragon could achieve flight-wise. It had taken them five hours to make the trip from Fire Island to Shadow Bridge, and they’d been on their A-flying-game as time had been of the essence.
“I sent an envoy to bring the king here,” Des said. “His son had come so very clo
se to death …”
Again, angels could read minds. He would know all about the Elena plot if he’d so much as probed as their minds. Not to mention that Adri had probably also told him about things as she was being informed.
“Yes,” the king said as he chuckled. “I must admit I’d never thought to experience this kind of travel.”
And this would explain the presence of Elijah, who had probably been the one dispatched to bring the king here almost in the blink of an eye.
“But you are all right now, son, aren’t you? Your mother, I didn’t tell her anything.”
No one could mistake the sheer emotion in his tone as anything but shaky concern for the life of his offspring.
Djibril nodded and squeezed his father’s shoulder. “As good as new.”
King Anton’s face grew somber. “There is that other matter … Are you absolutely certain?”
Djibril turned to her, then, and his father followed suit.
Steel flew along her spine. This was something she had to do, loath as she might. Her cousin had gone too far. Not only had she tried to kill her, but she’d also spear-headed an attempt on the Crown Prince’s life. That was treason, punishable by death after a millennium of imprisonment and abject torture if the prisoner hadn’t died yet.
So she took a deep breath and nodded. “Everything will be forwarded to your head of security once I give the go-ahead.”
“Good. And the people who did this?”
“Taken care of,” she replied.
“The ones who came after my son in that jet?”
“Dead. I made sure of that personally.”
The king seemed startled at those words, but he recovered quickly enough after blanching a little.
“Would you please, Kseniya Dmitriievich, have that information delivered as soon as you can to the Minister of Justice?”
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
“Kseniya and I will stand as witnesses,” Djibril said.
Her stomach clenched. She’d known that was a possibility, that she’d have to publicly go against her family while condemning her cousin. But she couldn’t take the side of her kin here. Not where the royals were concerned.
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