Ember (Rulers of the Sky Book 2)

by Paula Quinn

  One of the disadvantages of living so far up in the mountains was no phone service. He used solar energy for most of his electrical needs. But if he wanted to call anyone, he had to go to town.

  He blended his smoothie, guzzled it, and then swam a few laps in his heated pool. After that, he did what he did most other mornings. He spent two hours in his gym lifting weights and doing various workouts, all while Carina watched through curious eyes, as if she couldn’t figure out what he was. She was an animal. He guessed she knew him better than most.

  He showered, leaving the golden bristles dusting his jaw and upper lip unshaved for the second day. He switched on his plasma television and watched the news while he dressed in black jeans, Ferragamo boots and a black sweater. He ran his fingers through his damp hair, slicking it back before he pulled a black, cashmere beanie over his head. Slipping on his leather jacket, he snatched up his keys, kissed the top of Carina’s head, and left.

  The weather outside was crisp. The ride down the fell was bumpy in his Arctic Truck but he finally reached even ground and drove toward the town of Bodø. He looked at his phone on the seat beside him. It was already charged. He just needed to pick up service so he could check in on his family. Then he’d get some food for Carina and some necessities for himself. He might stop in to Hedda’s Steak House for lunch and then he’d head back. He rode for a few more miles until he reached the town.

  His text alert went off and he pulled over. A missed call from Jeremy Redmond, his oldest friend. Jeremy was a third generation Drakkon, whose single goal in life was to convince Garion to turn him. Jeremy wanted to fly and Garion hated himself for refusing. He was also a mutual shareholder of several of Garion’s business ventures.

  Two missed calls and a message from his sister. His heart raced when he put the phone on speaker and listened to her voice.

  “Garion, call me. I have news about The Bane. “

  The truck went silent. Her message ended.

  Garion stared at the phone. Was she serious? What the hell was she doing finding out anything about The Bane? They knew all they needed to know. The Bane was the enemy. They’d killed Thomas and two of Garion’s young friends and pledged to destroy him. He didn’t want them anywhere near his sister. What else mattered more than that?

  Cursing under his breath, he tapped her contact and waited while her phone rang. They were too far apart for Garion to probe her thoughts, but he was tempted to try.

  She picked up on the third ring. “It’s about time, Brother.”

  Her irritation relieved him. If she were being held captive, she wouldn’t have an attitude.

  “I texted you over a week ago, Garion. Don’t you ever come down from that mountain?”

  “Ellie, please tell me you’re not in any way involved with The Bane.”

  “Garion, hear me out.”

  “Shit.” He leaned his forehead on the steering wheel. His worst fears awakened, he clenched his teeth and punched the dashboard. They’d found her. If they hurt her…He should have known they’d been quiet for so long because they were up to something. How far would they go to catch him?

  “Ellie, listen to me,” he said, leaning up and trying to remain calm, an impossible endeavor when he imagined ways they might torture her. “Right now, I want you to go to my place on Seventy-second. You’ll be safe there.”

  “I’m not going to your penthouse, Garion. They don’t know who I am. “

  They? He was going to be sick. What had she gotten herself into? “When I hang up, I’m calling Dad.”

  “Stop being an idiot and listen to me,” came her stubborn reply. “I met two Whites at my club last week. Helena and Jacob. Ever hear of them?”

  He groaned. “No.”

  “I wasn’t sure if they were Bane at first, so I looked at a copy of the scrolls—”

  “What scrolls?”

  “Oh, yes. Well, you’d know about them if you called me more often.”

  He growled into the phone.

  “It’s a secret list kept by the Elders,” she said impatiently. “I have a copy of it.”

  “How the hell did you procure a copy of the Elders’ scrolls?”

  “That’s not important. What’s important is what it’s a list of.”

  “What’s it a list of?”

  “Names, Garion. The scrolls are a record of every Drakkon transformed by the Phoenix Amber, and every one of their offspring, every descendant including me.”

  Garion didn’t breathe as fire coursed through his blood and hardened his muscles. She had the names of every human born with a trace of Drakkon essence. Every human he could turn. The desire to return to the sky was strong in him. He resisted it. But if they hurt Ellie—

  “Helena and Jacob are the children of—Are you ready for this? The famous Patrick White. The guy Dad killed.”

  Garion had never met Patrick White but he knew why and how his foster father had killed him. White wanted Garion’s blood so that he could possess the greatest Drakkon power ever known. He’d transformed Marcus into a man against his will and then he’d taken Marcus’ treasure as ransom in exchange for Garion’s life. Now Patrick’s children had his sister in their grasp.

  What was the fastest flight he could catch to New York? He stepped down on the accelerator and turned the truck around. But he couldn’t go anywhere yet or he’d lose the signal. “Even more reason to get your ass to the penthouse. I’ll be there tomorrow morning.”

  “Are you serious? Don’t you come here, Garion! That’s my news. They still don’t know anything about you! They have nothing. They don’t even know what you look like. We’re safe. You’re safe. You want to stay that way, don’t you?”

  Yes. Yes, he did. He’d done his best to stay out of the limelight, even avoiding charity benefits, and refusing to be interviewed about his generous donations. Had he slipped up somewhere? Left a trail behind that led them to his sister?

  “They know about Marcus and Samantha’s connection to me,” he reminded her. “They know what happened the night Thomas was killed. They know more than you think. Were they asking you questions?”

  “No. I told you they don’t know I’m your sister—or if you’re alive or dead. I know because someone had left a copy of one of those trashy tabloids at the table in the restaurant where Helena and I had lunch.”

  His sister was too confident, maddeningly brave and reckless. Garion wanted to shake her. “You and Helena had lunch?”

  “Yes. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.” She paused while he cursed. “Anyway, you were on the cover. A crappy shot—you were blurry—but it was you attending The Princess Trust. She commented that you appeared handsome. I agreed and she discarded the paper. She didn’t give it a second look. If she knew who you were, she would have shown some kind of interest.”

  “Ellie, I didn’t go to The Princess Trust.”

  “But I’m sure that’s what it said. “

  He had to go to New York and protect his sister. He couldn’t leave Carina with no food or anyone to care for her for that amount of time. He had her pet passport, so bringing her was no problem.

  “I didn’t attend,” he told her again. “The only picture that could be out there, where anyone knew who I was, is of me attending the opening of Gaels.” The trail. “Funny how someone just happens to leave a tabloid with a fake story about me, of all people, where you’re meeting with Patrick White’s daughter. She might not know for sure, but she suspects who you are.”

  “Garion…” she sounded less sure of herself. He didn’t want to frighten her, but he wanted her to be safe.

  “The Whites have lots of connections, Ellie. They inherently know how to make friends and keep peace. Equally important is that they have a lot of money, and money can buy almost anyone off. Even the editor of a tabloid.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying it was a test, which means they suspect you.”

  “I think you’re overreacting—”

>   “You said she didn’t give the paper a second glance, right?” When she agreed, he continued. “Where was she looking?”

  The phone went silent for a moment. She finally spoke in a soft voice, “At me.” She laughed and then she cursed. “She was watching my reaction.”

  “Yes.” He ran his hand down his face. They knew, or they suspected who El was. “You’ve got the key and the concierge and doorman know you. But I’ll call the building now so they won’t give you a problem going up. Go now, El. I’m coming to get you.”

  “Get me? I can’t leave the club—”

  “You should have thought of that before you made friends with The Bane.”

  He ended the call and pressed his foot down on the accelerator. He could get to New York a little faster if he used his wings. But he couldn’t turn. Carina was too small and might slip through his claws. Hell, he couldn’t believe he was even thinking of flying. If anyone snapped a good photo and any kind of word of it spread, not only would he have The Bane on his tail, but probably thousands of the names on Ellie’s scrolls with them, wanting him to give them wings. How many times could he refuse?

  He reached the mountain and drove up to get his cat.

  #

  Garion landed at LaGuardia Airport at 2am the next day. In the taxi, he kept the back of his hand in front of the soft mesh doorway of Carina’s carrier and his eyes on the view outside his window. Rain splattered on the windshield and painted the city in smears of red and pale gold. It was different than what he saw every night from his glass fortress in Norway. Wind and sky gave life to the world on the mountain. Here, the pulse beat came from the swell of people living, laughing, fighting, drinking, and dancing behind her walls and on her streets. What was such freedom like, he wondered?

  If it weren’t for The Bane, he might know. He hated them for taking Thomas from him. For making him see the horrible part of being Drakkon and never wanting to be it again. Now, Ellie…He shook his head. He’d keep her safe, even if it meant burning more Whites to ashes.

  He reached Seventy-second and West End, paid the fare and gathered Carina and his bag. The doorman helped him in, despite his protests, but he managed to hold off Charles, the concierge, from rushing to his side.

  “I’m good,” Garion assured him with a quick smile and an outstretched palm. “Did my sister arrive?”

  “She’s all settled in, Mr. Gold,” Charles assured.

  Thanking him, Garion reached the elevator, stepped inside and held his key to the small console on the wall. He let himself breathe as the elevator went up, bringing him closer to her. Ellie was the first and only child born to Marcus and Samantha. Though they were not related by blood, Garion had always considered Ellie his sister. At first, he thought she was a toy. He’d been six, after all. But he’d learned to love her the way an older brother loves his baby sister, the way a Drakkon loves its hoard. He missed giving her rides on his back— thirty feet above the ground. That was as high as his foster parents would let him take her. She’d trusted him not to drop her and he never did.

  The door opened with a ding and Garion clenched his shoulders around his ears. He’d forgotten about the damn ding.

  “Garion?” Ellie called out from one of the guest bedrooms in the west wing.

  “Yes,” he called back, setting down his bag and freeing Carina from her carrier.

  He heard his sister coming as soon as she left the room and turned toward the softly lit hallway. He held his arms out to catch her when she hurried into them. “I hope you don’t mind that I left some of the lights on. You freaked me out on the phone.”

  “I’m sorry.” He planted a kiss in her inky curls and then stepped back to look at her. “You’re safe now that I’m here.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You’re just like Dad.”

  “Has anyone tried to contact you?”

  “It’s good to see you, too, Garion,” she said blandly and shook her head at him. “It’s been two months.”

  He smiled and pulled her back in for another embrace. “It’s good to see you, Ellie. It always is.”

  Refusing to be ignored, Carina meowed and set Ellie to squealing. He hung up his coat while his sister and his cat got reacquainted.

  “So, have they?” he asked Ellie again while she followed him to the master bedroom.

  “Jacob called but I didn’t answer,” she told him, falling into the overstuffed leather chair by the dark, oversized window.

  “Good.” He entered his spacious walk-in closet and unzipped his bag.

  “And Jeremy called,” she informed him when he reappeared. “He said he could never reach you. I agreed and told him you were coming. He’s going to call you.” She kissed Carina’s fluffy head and whispered something in the cat’s ear, then lifted her gaze back to him. “You packed light.”

  “You’re not staying.”

  She put the cat down and sat up. “Oh, and you are?”

  Garion could tell by the crossing of her arms over her chest and the vivid sea-blue of her eyes that she was ready for a fight. She wouldn’t get one. He wouldn’t be swayed about this. Not this. “I booked you an 11am flight to London. You’re going to Dad’s.”

  “Garion—”

  “Don’t argue, El,” he said firmly, hoping she’d listen. “You’re involved with dangerous people. I’m not going to let them hurt you.” He meant it. Once his sister was safely home, he was going to do some hunting of his own. If all this wasn’t a coincidence, then The Bane had found his sister.

  “I want to know everything about them.” He wasn’t too far away to read her thoughts now, but it was a Drakkon skill he didn’t enjoy. He rarely heard anything good when he listened in and, according to his foster mother, humans didn’t like such an invasion on their privacy. Garion agreed. Sharing thoughts was the highest form of intimacy. He didn’t take it lightly and stayed out of people’s heads.

  “Why?” she asked. “What are you going to do?”

  “Just tell me, Ellie.”

  “It’s almost 2am,” she pointed out. “Aren’t you tired?”

  “No. Are you?”

  She shook her head. “But I didn’t just fly in from across the world.” She cocked a dark brow at him from beneath her inky curls. “You did come by plane, didn’t you?”

  “Would you like to see my ticket?”

  “No,” she answered and then drew out a fateful sigh. “I don’t see why you won’t use your power, Garion. If I could fly…”

  If she could fly. It was the deepest desire of everyone of Drakkon descent. Not fire, or treasure, or telepathy. He understood that desire. He resisted it with every ounce of control he possessed. If he didn’t—if he lost control, he could turn in an instant.

  “If you could fly,” he countered, “your friends, the Whites, would find opportunities to shoot you down with their golden arrows, like they did to Thomas.” He motioned for her to follow him out of the room.

  “I’m not Thomas,” she said, coming up behind him in the hallway.

  He stopped and turned around to face her. What was that he heard in her voice, saw in the spark of her eyes? Ellie had always been strong-willed but she’d spoken with a strength of purpose he’d never heard in her before. What had she been doing looking up scrolls? How had she become involved with The Bane? What would he do if they hurt her or anyone else in his family? He didn’t want to think about it. “Forget it. I’m not turning you.” He cupped the back of her curls and drew her forehead in for a kiss.

  “Garion, we can stop this threat.”

  He would, but not as a Drakkon. Not if he didn’t have to.

  “I know you miss it,” she went on. “That’s why you have a wraparound terrace and surround yourself with all these windows and skylights and different ways out. You miss the sky.”

  “No more talk of this,” he stopped her. He didn’t want to talk about his deepest yearning. If he flew, he’d be seen. Once he was seen, Elders and descendants would seek him out to transform them into
what they, too, yearned for. How much longer could he keep denying others their ability to fly? Every time he refused Ellie, or Jeremy, or anyone who knew what he was capable of doing, it chipped away at his resolve to do what both his sister and his best friend wanted him to do—take back the sky with them. Turn everyone. And now, with the scrolls, they could. But mankind was no match for Drakkon. They would never survive. He knew firsthand what Drakkon fire could do to over forty men, women, and children in three long breaths.

  “I’ll make us some hot chocolate,” he told her, entering the open kitchen and turning on the lights. “And you’ll tell me what you’ve been doing in your spare time and how you met the Whites.”

  “Jacob White’s manager booked a date in the club,” she said, taking a seat at the marble island. She told him the manager’s name and that she’d checked him out. His name wasn’t on the scroll. While Garion served the cocoa, she described how she met Jacob and his sister, Helena. He listened to her confession of having lunch with the sister twice.

  “How do you know they’re Bane?” he asked, sitting next to her. “Just because they’re Whites doesn’t mean—”

  “While they were apparently checking me out, I did some investigating of my own,” she told him, blowing into her cup. “Jacob’s the lead singer of an alternative rock band. Lots of fans. Helena is a violinist with the New York Philharmonic. Both single. The last two offspring of Padgora of the Sixth, better known to us as Patrick White and his wife, Amanda. And here’s something you didn’t know, big brother. According to some, sometime before he died, Patrick wrote a letter to the Elders and to all his children, asking them to hunt and kill you. The Bane was created by the Elders because of Patrick White. All his children are part of it, but I don’t know how active they are.”

  “Active enough to find you,” he pointed out.

  “Yes,” she agreed and sipped her cocoa. “And clever enough to make me think I was being the smart one.” She set down her cup and reached her hand out to Carina when the cat leaped to the marble surface.

  “Judging by your cat, you would like the look of Helena White—if you ever meet her, that is.” She looked away from Carina and set her gaze on him, unfazed by his frown.