Kya summoned her magic, a fog of Bloodstone power. In the center of the dense fog, Kya shifted into her human form. She held an exhausted Armstrong in her arms. Floating over the roof and down to Armstrong’s apartment window, Kya whispered a command and his window opened.
With precision, she managed to get them both inside his bedroom. Dispersing her magic fog, Kya placed Armstrong on his bed and went about removing his outer garments.
His sleeping face was peaceful and innocent. Sitting on the bed beside him, she gazed at him through the eyes of a human but with the heart and soul of a dragon. Kya yearned to touch Armstrong the way he touched her. The desire to do so was so strong Kya’s hand raised to his face.
She stilled. What if he awoke? How would she explain? Worse, did she want Armstrong to awaken and see her in this human form? Naked and curious about his body and hers.
Kya’s hand dropped to her lap. Coward. Her eyes fell closed, and she breathed him in, his natural spice scent and sweat from a long night of sightseeing.
The bed shifted, and Kya’s eyes flew open. Armstrong Knight stared up at her, his eyes glassy from sleep.
“Beautiful,” he whispered as if speaking to himself instead of Kya.
She wondered whether he was awake but was too afraid to find out.
Kya didn’t move.
“So damn beautiful. I wish you were real. I wish you could be like this all the time. A human. Or me like you. A dragon.”
Without thinking, Kya pressed the palm of her hand to the side of Armstrong’s cheek. Soft yet hard with a thin layer of whiskers.
He turned toward her palm and kissed it.
Kya had no words for how her body responded to that single action. The way her stomach clenched and heart raced. The way her body heated and ached.
He kissed her palm again, giving it a soft bite before withdrawing and closing his eyes again, a smile on his contented face.
Asleep.
Kya rose, surprised her unsteady legs held her. This could not happen again. Armstrong could never know her secret. If he did, he would ask, in that deceptively benign way of his, for Kya to be the human female of his dreams. Dragons could turn into a human, which didn’t make them human. Magic, that’s all it was. But Armstrong wouldn’t understand. He’d view it as a rejection instead of the sacrifice it would be for Kya to make such a life-changing decision.
She wouldn’t do it. Ever. Not even for the human she loved but shouldn’t.
Calling her magic to her again, Kya refused to take a final look at Armstrong before she escaped through his window.
6
Captain Rudolph just had his ass handed to him by the Circle of Drayke. Did they think it was easy tracking a damn dragon? Did those pompous assholes think they could do a better job than Rudolph and his men? They could try to find another group of mercenaries who were willing to go up against magical monsters. They wouldn’t find any better, and they damn well knew it.
He slammed down the phone receiver he still held in his hand. He’d taken the call in his study, away from his wife. He paid the bills. His wife didn’t need to know exactly how.
They’d had him on speakerphone, which he hated. Real men did their business up close and personal, not behind faceless technology. That’s what separated men like Rudolph from men like the Circle of Drayke. Rudolph understood that real power could never be stolen. It had to be earned through hard work, grit, and sacrifice.
The Circle of Drayke wanted everything easy and fast, with no more effort on their part than writing a big fat check. Well, the real world didn’t work like that. Capturing a dragon wasn’t a simple task. It was damn near impossible.
He sighed, leaned back in his desk chair, and lit a cigar. For the last four years, he and his men had chased their tails. The gold dragon hadn’t been as easy prey as he’d originally thought. After his men had almost captured the dragon, it had vanished. There’d been no sightings of the smallest dragon for months. In the days and weeks after the attack on the gold and green dragons, skies around the world had gone quiet with the absence of all dragons.
For him, this confirmed what Rudolph had suspected about the beasts. The creatures were intelligent, strategic even. At the first sign of danger, they’d gone to ground. They may not have known who was after them and why, but the dragons had taken precautions. Slowly, they’d returned from their hiding hole and taken to the skies, once again healing and helping.
The gold dragon, however, had taken much longer to return. When it did, to Rudolph’s surprise, the dragon, still small compared to the others, was solo. The Circle of Drayke thought it the perfect opportunity for a quick snatch and grab. He’d disagreed. They’d argued.
He was overruled, and his men headed out. Mistake.
Flicking ashes in the tray, Rudolph swallowed the anger the memory evoked.
“All right, Turner, tell me what you see.”
“The gold dragon is flying toward DC, Captain Rudolph. What’s your order?”
“Is it alone?”
“Yes, sir.”
Rudolph didn’t like this plan. It felt wrong. Even with the new and improved dragon net, this op had the hairs on his arms sticking up. What bothered him was the fact that no other dragon flew with it. The big green dragon had downed, with frightening ease, two armored helicopters when the smallest dragon was in danger. If nothing else, Rudolph would’ve thought that dragon would be glued to the smaller dragon’s side. Instead, the gold dragon flew the skies alone.
He hadn’t survived this long without a backup plan. He may not have been up there with his men, but Rudolph was with them in spirit. From his basement, he had all the equipment he needed, care of the Circle of Drayke, to run a high-level secret operation. The US government didn’t officially support the op, but the Circle of Drayke lined the right pockets and filled the right political coffers. American military forces wouldn’t intervene, no matter how many bleeding-heart politicians sided with the so-called civil rights of dragons.
They were monsters, for Christ’s sake, not people. They didn’t have any damn civil rights to protect.
“Okay, listen up. I want that dragon reeled in tonight. We’ve been paid a lot of money, so let’s earn every penny of it. Turner, you still got eyes on goldie?”
“Affirmative.”
Captain Rudolph trusted every man under his command. They were military grade tough. But they were also flesh and blood and men with wives and children to get home to. He wouldn’t have another incident like he did a year ago, which was why he’d talked the big ten into hiring more mercs for this mission.
“Smyth, Wilson, Hein converge on Turner’s location now. The Golden Fleece is ours boys. Bring it down.”
Rudolph listened, safe in his basement bunker, as his men went on the offensive. He smiled. This time tomorrow, he’d be a rich man. Not as wealthy as the Circle of Drayke, but few men were.
Men yelled over the radio as they pursued their prey. From the sound of things, the Golden Fleece wouldn’t be taken easily. Rudolph expected as much, which was why he’d called in reinforcements. The dragon wouldn’t be able to outmaneuver four state-of-the-art ‘copters.
“What did you say, Turner? You’re breaking up.” He sat up in his chair. Was that a roar he heard? “Turner, come in. Do you hear me?”
Static crackled over the line but no Davis Turner.
“Smyth, do you have eyes on Turner’s ‘copter?”
“Shit. Where in the hell did that big fucker come from?”
“Smyth, what’s going on? Somebody answer me.”
On his feet, hand clutched around the radio, Rudolph could only listen and wait.
“Not alone.”
“Two of them.”
“Oh, god. Where did the other three come from?”
“Shoot ‘em. Keep shooting.”
Screams. All Rudolph heard were screams and nonsensical rambling.
“Wilson, Hein, come in. Tell me what’s going on. Turner. Smyth.”
&
nbsp; “Fire, fire.”
“Bullets useless. Bouncin’ off. Damn, it’s coming right us. R-right at—”
He’d once heard someone say that hearing was worse than seeing because the mind’s ability to conjure images was worse than anything the eyes could ever see. As Rudolph stood in his basement, safe and miles away from the aerial battle, he had no problem believing that hearing was far worse than seeing.
What he heard, on the other line of the radio, were his men being slaughtered. Not simply dying but crushed by superior numbers and overwhelming power. Rudolph had known the op was a mistake. He’d told the rich bastards that it stunk.
Dragons weren’t stupid. He knew that. But he’d moved against his better judgment and twenty good soldiers had lost their lives. There would be no rescue. The sounds of burning, roaring, and hissing assured him of that sad fact.
Slumping to the floor, the captain still held onto the radio. He’d failed. Again.
The gold dragon hadn’t been prey but bait. And he’d swallowed the worm and line whole. Damn him and damn the Circle of Drayke.
Three years later, Rudolph hadn’t gotten over the loss of so many men. More, the Circle of Drayke hadn’t let him forget how much he owed them. They’d hired other men, more expensive than Captain Rudolph. But their track records were no better.
Sitting in his study, he knew they’d taken the wrong tact from the beginning. Dragons wouldn’t be outmuscled, at least not without more firepower than Rudolph had at his disposal. Which meant they had to defeat them with brains instead of brawn. Meet their calculating minds with shrewd machinations.
The Circle of Drayke still wanted the gold dragon. At this point, stubbornness and pride fueled their decisions. They didn’t care that the dragon had gotten stronger and larger since their first encounter three years ago. They also didn’t care that public opinion polls favored the dragon. The beast was on every damn American magazine cover because it, unlike other dragons, focused on healing children.
Cigar smoke filled the air, the scent comforting and familiar. Randolph knew he was missing something. If he could only figure it out, everything would change.
Propping his feet on his desk, Rudolph considered what he knew about the gold dragon. One, it traveled between the United States, Canada and Mexico. Two, it healed children, although not exclusively. Three, it had no discernible route or favorite locales.
Wait, that wasn’t true. His feet thudded to the floor. There was a pattern with the gold dragon. The one place it was spotted the most was DC. He’d forgotten. When the dragon finally returned to wherever it went after escaping his men, and their nets, witnesses from a bank robbery had told police that a gold dragon had killed the bank robbers.
By the time DCPD had arrived on the scene, there was no dragon. But witnesses swore one had been there and helped them. For a while, Rudolph had investigated the event, hoping to find anything that would help him catch the elusive dragon. He’d hit a dead end. He couldn’t figure out why a healing dragon would suddenly play a superhero. That wasn’t their MO, so he’d let it drop.
Now, he wondered if he’d given up too soon. Maybe there was something there he’d missed. Getting to his feet, Rudolph moved to his file cabinet in the corner of the room. His wife complained he was a pack rat. He supposed she was right, his study and basement were overflowing with boxes and file cabinets.
He found the folder and notes on the bank robbery, employees, including the murdered ones, and the bank customers all of whom survived thanks to the gold dragon. Why would a dragon care about foiling a robbery? That’s what he’d never understood about the case.
They healed. That was it. Except, for the gold dragon, that wasn’t it. There was more, and Rudolph was going to find out what.
“Calling it a night?”
Armstrong returned his six-month-old niece to her proud father. Isaiah, hands big yet gentle, cradled Isabelle to his chest, her head on his shoulder and she fast asleep.
They sat in Isaiah and Nicole’s living room on a Monday night, watching football and drinking beer. Well, Armstrong had a beer while his brother quenched his thirst on nothing stronger than iced tea. Since he’d become a father, Isabelle, the youngest of three girls, the bar owner had given up a lot of “vices,” alcohol among them.
Armstrong didn’t get it. It wasn’t like Isaiah was a drunk. He rarely drank in excess or acted out the few times he did get drunk. But Isaiah, the oldest of the Knight children, had always taken his responsibilities seriously. Fatherhood was no different.
“You’re a good dad.”
“Where did that come from?”
“Just saying. You and Nicole are lucky. You got a good life and family. I’m happy for you.”
With care to not wake the baby, Isaiah pushed off the couch and whispered, “Give me a sec. I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”
Armstrong followed his brother to the steps that led to the upstairs. It was near the front door, the coat closet, and freedom. He loved his siblings and tried to visit them as often as he could. They were all married, even his youngest sister, who was as big as a house and expecting her second child. He, on the other hand, was still depressingly single.
He grabbed his coat from the closet and yanked it on.
“Don’t you dare sneak out.”
Armstrong’s hand fell away from the doorknob. He thought he could slip out while his brother put the baby down to bed. Apparently not.
“You’re fast for an old man.”
“Old, huh? Just for that, I’m not going to step in the next time Nicole tries to set you up with one of her girlfriends.”
Isaiah, three inches taller than Armstrong but not as muscular, was thirty-nine to his thirty-two. Glasses and a goatee had the man resembling their father. Isaiah had always looked more like their dad than any of the Knight kids. Except for his dark complexion, Armstrong favored his mother, who was two shades lighter than him and stunning at sixty-three. His father, like Isaiah, had chosen well.
Isaiah opened the front door, and they stepped outside. His brother left the door slightly ajar, adding illumination to a porch that already glowed from a security light.
“I guess you want to talk.” It wasn’t a question. Armstrong knew his brother.
“I’m worried about you.”
“The job’s fine. That thing with the terrorist the other day was—”
“You know that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m used to your dangerous job. I want to know what’s going on with you personally.”
“You mean why haven’t I settled down?”
Armstrong zipped up his heavy-duty coat. The only thing Isaiah had to keep him warm was his burgundy, gold, and white Washington Redskins sweatshirt.
“Yeah, that’s what I mean. I know you want a family. I can see it every time you play with one of the kids. They all love Uncle Armstrong. You spoil them rotten.”
“They’re great kids.”
He wanted a half dozen just like them.
“Tell me.”
“I can’t. Sorry.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“I’m a man of my word, Isaiah. I promised I’d keep her secret.”
“The infamous and invisible Kya from a decade ago?”
More like seven years, but it felt much longer. He didn’t answer his brother.
“Really? Come on, Armstrong. If she were the woman for you, you would’ve brought her around to meet all of us. You can’t put your life on hold for a woman who doesn’t make time for you and your family.”
That wasn’t true. Kya always made time for him. Isaiah was right, though; he had put his life on hold, which made no sense. He and Kya had no future. Armstrong knew that. He’d known from the start, and so had Kya. Yet they persisted in a friendship that was more intimate than any physical relationship he’d ever had with a human woman.
They told each other everything. He knew her and she knew him—his fears and insecurities as well as his mistakes and regrets.
His left hand in his pocket found his hat and Armstrong put it on. DC in December was damn cold.
“You must be freezing your balls off. Stop worrying about me and get inside.”
“I’ll stop worrying when you find a nice girl who’ll take care of you.”
“You sound like Mom.”
Isaiah laughed. “Damn, I do, and I am freezing my balls off out here.” Retreating to the threshold of his front door and the warmth of the house, Armstrong knew Isaiah watched him as he made his way off the porch and down the four steps to the walkway. “Do you love her?”
He answered without turning around. “I shouldn’t, but I do.”
“Does she love you?”
“She shouldn’t, but I think she does.”
He stopped and turned around, back to the street and front to his brother.
“If the two of you can’t be together, which it seems you can’t, for whatever reason, then you need to make a clean break. She moves on, and you move on. Drive safely, and I’ll see you next Sunday at church.”
Isaiah waved, then closed the door.
For several minutes, Armstrong remained on the sidewalk, staring at the white door and empty porch. Isaiah had gotten to the heart of the matter. It wasn’t as if Armstrong hadn’t known what needed doing. Hell, years ago Kya had made the same point as Isaiah. He’d been the one to ignore the obvious. If their friendship meant they’d never seek a suitable life partner, then maybe they needed to reevaluate their relationship.
He slid behind the wheel of his car, pulled into traffic, and began the short drive to Capitol Hill. He’d bought the house with hopes of having a wife and brood of children. Parking in front of it, Armstrong forced himself to admit that he’d envisioned his dream Kya sharing the home with him.
Stupid. He’d wasted seven years on a fantasy.
“Kya, where are you?”
Getting out of the car, instinctively, Armstrong’s eyes raised to the night sky. Quiet and still, he didn’t see or sense the dragon.
“What’s the matter, diata? You sound upset.”
“We need to talk.”
Sirens and Scales Page 310
