When he’d stared at the picture of the castle, the irony of dragon stories, medieval warriors and castles weren’t lost on him. He’d known, with the same bone-deep certainty that he’d always love Kya, that they would find their stolen child at Cafferty Castle.
By the time he’d returned to his brother’s home, Kya had appeared nothing short of a woman who’d survived a hurricane. Besides his mother and Isaiah’s family, his sisters and their husbands and children were also there. Kya may have possessed a photographic memory, but dragons didn’t track day, months and years the way humans did. So she wouldn’t have known that her reentry into his life coincided with Helen Knight’s seventy-seventh birthday. His mother, a woman of deep faith, had viewed Kya’s presence as a “sign from God.”
As Armstrong watched Kya and thought about the great possibility of finding a child he’d considered lost to him, he couldn’t help but agree with his mother. What he’d yet to figure out was what kind of sign from God it was.
“Do you have my guns?”
He knew she did. They’d argued about those too, with Armstrong claiming he needed to ride on her back because he wouldn’t be allowed to carry firearms onto the plane. Kya, in dragon form, had taken one look at the arsenal of weapons he had in his trunk, snorted, and then said something about her being the Bloodstone Dragon and him not needing guns.
He’d disagreed.
“Why do you insist on asking such annoying questions? You insult us both when you do.”
“That was the compromise. I’d take a plane, and you’d carry my guns.”
“You know I have your weapons, Knight. Perhaps you should ponder the irony of your name and our intended location.”
“I have, that’s why I want my guns.”
“A sword and shield make more sense.”
“I’m a modern knight. Guns are better.”
“Guns will not kill a crazed Kesin.”
“I know. But bullets will do the job just fine for a human.”
Kya’s head turned to him. Green jasper eyes with slashes of red took him in.
“True.”
For the rest of the flight, they didn’t speak. He’d once spared the life of Rudolph and the men under his command. It felt like the right decision at the time, and perhaps it was. After all that had happened, though, Armstrong found it difficult to not think of that choice as a mistake.
As a Secret Service agent he’d never killed anyone, for which he’d been grateful. Now, as a father hellbent on rescuing his child and finally stopping the threat to his family, Armstrong was prepared to put an end to Hugh Cafferty and Dr. Kenneth Westmore.
“What do you hear and smell?”
From this height and at night, Armstrong couldn’t see much. After landing, he’d made it to his hotel and checked in. Despite wanting to set out right away for the castle, he’d agreed with Kya. After a long flight, he wasn’t at his best. He needed a decent meal and rest. While he’d slept, Kya had flown out to the castle and did a bit of reconnaissance.
Now, they were either minutes away from freeing their child or having their hopes crushed because they’d been wrong.
Wrong about their child being alive.
Wrong about this location.
Wrong about the source of the Kesins.
I smell several humans.
Kya’s angry hiss let Armstrong know she not only smelled humans but the one who’d tried to steal her Bloodstone and subjected her to a non-consensual C-section.
I also smell Kesins.
“How many?”
From this distance, it’s difficult to know for sure. Ten, perhaps more.
Ten mind-controlled dragons were a hell of a lot. He didn’t doubt the Bloodstone Dragon could defeat them, but she couldn’t just destroy the castle with no thought to the one Kesin they wanted alive and unharmed.
Are you certain your plan will work?
“Not certain. We need to get the Kesins out of the castle, and your presence will make that happen. We also need someone who can slip inside and find our child. I can do that.”
He also needed to find the Dracontias stone. That wasn’t part of the plan. Kya wouldn’t want him endangering his life further. The lack of a healing stone, according to Kya, posed no health risk to their Kesin. The dragon could live fine without it. For Armstrong, that wasn’t the point. The stone was a birthright, a genetic gift from the Bloodstone Dragon to her progeny. Armstrong would be damned if he didn’t at least try to recover the gemstone for their child.
Kya flew closer to the estate, an ancient warlike structure on sprawling acres of grassland surrounded by high, full trees. Gliding on silent currents, the Bloodstone Dragon circled the castle until she reached the tower house.
The scent of Kesins is strongest here. The dungeon you seek should be beneath the tower house.
Landing then withdrawing her magic binds, Kya lowered her tail so Armstrong could jump off.
He sported a chestnut steel hide double gun shoulder holster with leather harness straps. Two loaded Rugers fit perfectly in each holster. The thumb-break snap and tension screw would allow for a quick draw.
I’m going to bring this castle down. I’ll begin at the far end and make as much noise as possible. That should be enough distraction to bring the humans and Kesins out.
Armstrong looked from the castle, ten feet thick walls and forty-foot high, and then back to Kya.
I’m insulted.
“I didn’t say anything,” he whispered.
That look of yours says much. I’m the Bloodstone Dragon, Armstrong Knight, do not doubt my might.
“Actually, I thought you may bring these stones down on my head before I had a chance to find our child.”
I’ll destroy the structure and the Kesins slowly. Remember, once you’ve found our Kesin, send me the image telepathically. When I have a visual of the dungeon, I’ll be able to transport the two of you out of there.
Kya had explained how her power to transport worked. She either had to have been to the location before, like when she’d transported Isaiah’s children to a home she’d visited many times, or if she had an accurate visual. The second method was less precise and more dangerous. Dragons also didn’t transport themselves because that kind of magic worked only on others, which was why Kya hadn’t joined his nieces in her fog that fateful day.
Armstrong would prefer to bring their Kesin out himself, but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to without Kya’s help. Their baby dragon may not trust any human after being held captive by Westmore and Cafferty for eight long years. The dragon may even try to kill him if he got too close.
The formidable door to the tower house was built for defensive purposes. He tried the knob. Locked, of course.
“A little help before you lay siege to the castle, Bloodstone Dragon.”
Not that Kya had ever rolled her eyes when she was in human form, but the way she snorted red magic in his face felt equivalent to a DC girl’s eye roll.
Armstrong backed up.
With a flick of her gold tail, the door crumbled.
Make haste. I can prolong the battle but so long. Eventually, I’ll have to put the Kesins out of their misery.
He should’ve climbed over the broken door and entered the dark tower house. Instead, he watched the Bloodstone Dragon soar high above the castle, take a deep breath, open her mouth wide and release a stream of raging fire.
He’d never witnessed anything like it outside of a fantasy movie. The Dracontias never displayed this kind of deadly power in public, so moviemakers took liberty with their interpretation. But this, the real thing, was more frightening and majestic than any human manufactured pyrotechnic display.
He saw, for the first time, why the Aragonite Star Dragon had entrusted North America to his youngest Dracontias. The Bloodstone Dragon may have a heart and body of gold, but she also possessed a soul and belly of fire.
Bright red and longer than the dragon, fire shot from her mouth in an intense spray of heat an
d magic.
Go. Now!
He went, racing into the empty tower house and finding the stairs that led to the underground dungeon. He clicked on his waist-worn flashlight so he wouldn’t fall and break his neck on the winding stairs. When he reached the lit wall torches, he turned off the flashlight.
Armstrong heard voices coming from the tower house by the time he reached the last step. He couldn’t make out their words, but the sound of footsteps on the stairs had him finding a nook in a wall and hiding down.
“I thought you said she wouldn’t be able to track your dragons back here.”
“She shouldn’t have been able to.”
“Well, the goddamn Bloodstone Dragon is here. You saw what she did to the tower house door. It’s in pieces.”
The voices drew nearer.
“It’s fine. She’s not down here, which means she still doesn’t know where to find her son.”
A son? He and Kya had a son. Armstrong’s throat tightened at the news, and his heart raced with happiness and fury. These assholes had denied him and Kya their son, and their child the love of his parents. The bastards would pay. But not until they led them to his child.
“Westmore and Cafferty are in the dungeon. Your fire forced the snakes from their hole. Keep up your attack. They should be sending the Kesins your way soon.”
“I hope there’s enough of your monsters to stop the Bloodstone Dragon. We didn’t plan for this.”
“I have enough of them, so stop worrying. They’ll bring her down, and we’ll capture her in dragon form this time. I won’t even have to break a saw on her thick skull. Once she sees I control the life of her son, she’ll cut the stone out herself and hand it over. As long as we have her hybrid, we control the Bloodstone Dragon.”
The voices faded as the men walked away from Armstrong and down the hallway. He could still hear echoes of male voices as he rose from his hiding spot and followed the men.
Armstrong prayed the Kesins’s senses weren’t as acute as Kya’s or that, if they smelled him, they’d lump his scent in with the last two members of the Circle of Drayke.
Keys jangled and then he detected the sound of a heavy door.
He kept to the shadows. Thankfully, the men were familiar with the dungeon, and few torches were lit to guide them.
Pressing himself against a wall, Armstrong held his breath and didn’t move when a Kesin bolted past him. Claws scratched stones as the reptile ran past, headed in the direction of the stairs and the exit to the tower house.
The creature roared as it ran farther down the hall and away from its prison.
Armstrong didn’t dare move, but he did need air. He let out the breath he’d been holding.
“The first Kesin is on its way.”
“Good. I was beginning to bore of knocking down stones younger than my father. I was kind enough to wait until two humans, one male and one female, fled. Servants, I believe. I spared them. They smelled of fear but not guilt. Ah, I see the Kesin. Yellow-and-red and flying at me.”
More Kesins ran past him. He tried to count, but it was damn near impossible to make out one set of footsteps from another. If even one stopped, he would be done for. Luckily, their singular focus sent them down the hall and into the Bloodstone Dragon’s snare.
Another time, another place, Kesins may have ruled the ground. But the sky belonged to Afiya dragons.
“I counted fifteen.”
“There are twenty, and not all can fly. Wait a few minutes more before pursuing the humans. I do not wish for you to meet one of these beasts in close quarters.”
Neither did he.
The sound of roaring, battling dragons shook the tower house above him. Kya said she would give him time, but with twenty dragons attacking her, the longer it took to kill them the more danger she put herself in. Hearing no more claws coming his way, Armstrong crept in the direction where the men had gone.
He rounded a corner and stopped. This corridor was better lit. A row of doors was open. When he reached the first open door, he peered inside. It was as he expected. Empty. He didn’t bother inspecting the other cells as he jogged past them. He knew they’d reveal the same.
They’d kept the Kesins in individual cells, which probably meant his son was in a cell, too. The bitter thought had Armstrong pulling the right gun from its holster.
The next corridor, lit as brightly as the last, contained more cells with open doors. Slowing his pace, then stopping when he heard voices again, Armstrong peeked around the corner.
Cafferty leaned against a wall opposite a cell. The door was closed, but it wouldn’t be for long. Westmore held a ring with keys in his right hand. He jammed a key into the lock and twisted. The door hissed open and in went the sadistic doctor.
Hugh Cafferty, dressed in nightclothes, a robe and boots, crossed his arms over his chest and pouted like a spoiled brat. “Do you hear that? Her roars are loud and angry enough to topple this castle.”
“Be quiet. I need to focus on the stone and the magic within. I’ve never tried to control this many of them at once, which is why I’m in here with the hybrid. Having him close to the stone makes my job easier.”
“Easier?” Cafferty huffed. “He’s whining like he’s never done before and if he keeps yanking on his shackle, he’ll either break his damn neck or pull the chain from the wall. Either result will end with us dead.”
No, Kya or his son wouldn’t kill them. Armstrong stepped around the corner, raised his gun hand and waited for Cafferty to sense his presence. It didn’t take long. The bastard’s arms fell to his sides when he spotted him.
Armstrong grinned, showing lots of white teeth. Then shot the bastard in his left shoulder, spinning him around. A bullet to his back. Armstrong closed in on the downed Cafferty. He could’ve killed him with the first shot. But he wanted the asshole to suffer if only for a few minutes.
A bullet to each leg. No one held his son in shackles as if he were a goddamn slave. Well, if they wanted to treat his son as a slave, then this was a slave uprising.
Armstrong waited for Westmore to come running out of the cell. The man didn’t disappoint. He dropped to the ground next to Cafferty, his hands searching for a pulse.
“He’s not dead.” Westmore, dressed in black slacks and a gray button-down sweater, swung his gaze to Armstrong. “Yet. I’ll let him bleed out slowly.”
A desperate little roar came from the cell, which had Armstrong clutching his gun and pointing it at the doctor.
“Get your sorry ass up.”
Hands covered in Cafferty’s blood, Westmore pushed to his feet.
The sound came again. Armstrong wondered if Kya could hear their son’s cries. If she could, Cafferty and Westmore would die like Rudolph.
Armstrong walked closer to the men, his body now parallel to the cell. He didn’t want to look inside, although he knew he had no other choice if he were to get Kya her visual and help emancipate their son.
“Move.” He waved the gun in the direction of the cell.
“Listen, I—”
“Shut the hell up and get your ass in the cell.”
Armstrong followed the doctor into the stone prison. The chilly room, about two hundred fifty feet, was bare except for matted hay in a corner. A ring with a thick chain hung from the back wall. At the other end of the chain was a seething red dragon. The end of his tail looked as if it had been dipped in gold.
Metallic gold, like the Bloodstone Dragon.
As wide as a Mastiff but not as thick as one, he weighed about seventy-five pounds and stood twenty-eight inches at the shoulder. The scales at his neck had been rubbed raw from the thick shackle that confined him.
He’d wanted answers from Westmore, such as how he’d made the fake Kesins, were there more of them and did anyone else know. Now, he only wanted the cruel doctor dead.
“Where’s the stone you stole from my son?”
Westmore dug into his pants pocket and pulled out a red oval-shaped gemstone. He tossed it to A
rmstrong, who caught the precious jewel and stowed it in his back pocket.
“I found our son.”
For long seconds, the sound of battle intensified before silence befell the cold night.
“Do the humans still live?”
“Not for long.” For the first time, Armstrong feared the Bloodstone Dragon’s wrath. But he had to tell her. “He’s scared, hurt, and chained to a wall. I’m afraid what he’ll do if I shoot the chains and free him.”
“He’ll attack. Do nothing. I’m on my way.”
Kya always spoke with a relaxed, confident cadence, her voice rarely betraying her emotions. It didn’t now. But her voice had taken on an extra stillness that didn’t bode well for Westmore.
As much as Armstrong itched to put a bullet through the man’s nonexistent heart, he would do nothing to deny Kya her revenge.
Armstrong snatched the keyring from Westmore’s hip. “Where’s your office and which key will let me in?”
“The next to the largest key and the last cell at the end of the hall.”
He shot Westmore in the kneecap before taking off and smiled when the man screamed. He wouldn’t be going anywhere, and the scent of blood would lead Kya straight to the bastard.
Finding the cell, Armstrong let himself inside. This cell was furnished like a doctor’s office on one side and a biomedical lab on the other.
Not having time to go through the files and find what he wanted, Armstrong dumped out the contents of a brown moving box and filled it with anything that looked important. Folders. Pictures. Syringes and vials. Medical reports.
Box in hand, he ran back the way he came. Halfway there, the stone ceiling was replaced with crisp night air and the stench of burning bodies. Glancing up, Armstrong watched the entire tower house swirl in a mist of red dragon magic. The structure whipped around like a house caught in a fierce tornado. With each rotation, the tower house crushed in on itself, a rapidly decreasing ball of crumpled stone.
Within mere seconds, little of the huge building remained.
Clutching the box, Armstrong rushed to where he’d left his son and a bleeding Westmore.
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