by Paula Quinn
His gaze returned to her when she slipped out of her parka and into a booth against the windowed wall. She pulled off her woolen cap and his eyes fell over her wintry crown, her hair plaited down over her breasts like two thick ropes.
“You should order the French Toast,” she said, setting her violin case aside with her purse. “You’re probably the only person ever to walk in here who could polish off that plate.” She looked around at the walls. “There’s a prize I think. But you—” Her words paused when she finally looked up at him taking off his coat. “—don’t look like you eat too many carbs.”
“I’m more of a pancake man,” he confided, sitting on the other side of her. The sun from the window felt good on his skin and he took off his hat to bask for a moment.
When he looked at Helena, her gaze washed over his hair, spilling over his eyes. He should have left his hat on. His hair picked up certain colors from any source of light. Ambers and yellows were most common, but streaks of it had been known to glow like molten lava when splashed in sunlight. He raked his fingers through it, clearing his vision and then covered it back under his hat.
“I didn’t mean to embarrass you by staring,” she said, lowering her gaze to her hands on the table.
“You didn’t,” he said. “It’s a reflex, I guess. I don’t like to draw attention to myself.”
She looked up and gave him an incredulous smirk. “Sorry, but that ship has sailed.”
The arrival of a waiter, whom she addressed as Hal, prevented Garion from responding. He had always been careful to blend in, become a shadow, dark and unassuming. He disagreed with her about the sailing ship.
“May I ask you a question, Mr. Gold?” she asked after the waiter took their orders and poured coffee.
“I assume that’s why we’re here,” he replied, wondering how she was going to fit the spinach omelet with bacon, a buttered bagel, and an order of fries into her delicately-formed body. “And please call me Garion.”
She tipped her pearly-white head like a deity graciously accepting his offer. “Garion,” she said on a soft breath, her eyes wide. “I never imagined sitting with you, talking with you over pancakes and coffee. It doesn’t seem real.”
He’d never imagined giving her the opportunity, yet here they were. A Drakkon and a hunter. Could they come to some sort of agreement? A promise in writing? With no one to hunt, would The Bane agree to disband and live out their lives as ordinary men and women? Was it a possibility?
“Exactly how old are you?”
Garion regarded her with curiosity over her choice of questions. “Twenty-six.”
“I mean in Drakkon years.”
“Drakkon years?” He wanted to laugh, but she was serious. “Twenty-six.”
“Oh,” she said. “Aren’t you immortal like the Elders?”
He sipped his coffee. He didn’t like coffee. “I don’t know yet.”
She sat, waiting for more from him. How was he supposed to know if he was immortal when he’d only been alive for a short time? He assumed he was since all full-blooded Drakkon were. But admitting to The Bane that he was immortal and, unless they killed him, he’d outlive every one of them was foolish.
“Is that it?” he asked. “Is that all you want to know?”
He’d answer her questions without giving her anything solid and wait for her next move.
“Are you married?”
He smiled. He couldn’t stop himself. He’d expected a myriad of questions pertaining to his Drakkon heritage and power. Not this.
“No, I’m not,” he answered and thanked the waiter for bringing his food. “No girlfriend, either.”
“How is that possible?” She looked up briefly from her food. “Have you seen you?”
“Unfortunately, I have,” he quipped, thinking of his Drakkon form. His Drakkon teeth. “Pancakes taste better.” He pierced his fork in the stack of syrupy goodness and shoved it into his mouth.
She stopped chewing her French fry. “Better than what?”
He looked up at her from his plate. “I’ve never eaten anyone if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Good to know.” She used her fork to play with her spinach omelet then she stopped and narrowed her eyes on him. “Do you know what I’m thinking?”
He could, if he chose to. But he wouldn’t tell her that. The less The Bane and the Elders knew about him, the better. “No,” he answered.
“My turn,” he said, setting down his fork and taking a sip from his cup. “What does your brother want with Ellie?”
She blinked. He didn’t need to read her thoughts to sense them shifting to Jacob White. “What?”
“Your brother,” Garion repeated. He’d been tracking Patrick White’s son, who turned out to be more of a threat to women than to him. Women like his sister. “What are…or were his plans with my sister? I know yours were to draw me out, but what was he up to?”
She stared at him, fear mixed with anger brewing in her eyes. “Why are you bringing up my brother after we were discussing you eating people?”
“We weren’t discussing it,” he corrected and returned to eating. “I said I’ve never eaten anyone and you thought that was good to know.” He slipped a slice of bacon into his mouth and sighed, closing his eyes.
“Is that why you’ve been following him?” she demanded in a perfectly serene voice. “To discover a motive? Let me save you some time. My brother is motivated by one thing, and it doesn’t involve hunting you.”
Exactly what, he didn’t want to think about.
“But you needn’t worry, “ she tried to assure him. “Jacob barely knows El.”
“He called her cell two nights ago.”
Her expression went cold and angry. She hadn’t known.
“I’ll bring it up with him,” she promised. “I’ll take care of it. You can leave him alone.”
Garion shook his head. “He didn’t heed your advice the first time. What makes you think you can take care of it now?”
“Because, this time—” She quirked her brow at him. “—How do you know what advice I gave him?”
“You’re angry that he called her. You must have warned him against it.”
“I did.”
He looked up briefly from his plate. “But he still called her. You can’t stop him.” And Garion would see him stopped. “I’m afraid the warning must come from me.”
Her gaze darkened like a storm rolling in from the sea. “I’ll arrange a meeting and you can speak to him.”
“No.”
Her body tightened in her seat. “No?”
“Your assistance isn’t necessary,” he told her, finishing his breakfast and wiping his lips with a napkin. “I know where to find him.” He dropped his gaze to her plate of fries. “Are you going to eat those?”
The storm rushed in and her sweet, agreeable façade was swept away in a deluge of frost and fire. “Yes, I am,” she said through clenched teeth and tight lips. She curled her arm around her plate and moved it closer to her.
Possessive. Garion looked deeper into her sparkling, blue eyes. She was Drakkon, all right. If he got close enough, he was certain he’d be able to smell the Drakkon blood rushing through her veins.
“I’m not afraid of you,” she promised in a tone that was cooler than a Norse winter night.
He believed her.
“If you lay a finger on Jacob, I’ll hunt you and send you back to the stars.”
He liked her boldness to threaten him to his face. He understood the fury of revenge. But the choice wasn’t up to him. “Whether I lay a finger on him or not depends on him and your family.”
“Tony!” she called out. “Can I have this stuff to go?”
She was leaving. It was good. They shouldn’t have shared breakfast in the first place. It was ridiculous to think any sort of agreement could be reached with The Bane. Still, Garion was reluctant to end the morning. She piqued his interest and, living alone for seven years, few things had. “So that’s it?�
� he asked, swiping his fingers across his mouth, as if trying to get it to stop speaking. “No more questions?”
She stared at him while the waiter returned and retrieved her food. The only sign of her struggle to summon her calm composure and confidence was a slight crook of her brow. “Just one,” she said, succeeding. “Do you want my number—In case you change your mind about speaking to my brother alone?”
He should have been prepared for her less conventional manner, but he wasn’t. For a moment, he didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t going to change his mind. He’d handle Jacob White alone. There was no reason to give in to her request. “Sure.” He pulled his cell from his back pocket, unlocked it, and slid it across the table to her.
She picked it up and studied the image on his home screen. She cut her gaze to him and offered him her slightest smile. “Is this your cat?”
“Yes.”
She was already too involved in his life. Was he going to tell her about Carina now? He said nothing else but waited for her to add her number. What the hell was he going to do with her number? He wouldn’t call her. She was Bane. The sooner he got away from her, the better.
“There’s no one else here.” She held the phone up to him. “I’m your only contact?”
He looked at it and nodded. He remembered the important numbers, of which there weren’t many, in his head not on his cell. “That’s what it looks like to me.”
She stared at him with her luminously large eyes going a bit softer for just an instant before returning to the phone. She added her information and then handed him back his cell.
“Thanks for breakfast,” she said, slipping out of the booth. “Oh, and one more thing. Why did you kill my father?”
He looked up at her, still unfazed. “I didn’t. But I would have had good reason if I had. He was trying to kill me.”
“In an effort to keep Drakkon from the sky,” she defended.
He shook his head and clarified, “He was trying to kill me for my essence.”
She quirked her mouth at him, clearly not believing him. “Why would he want your essence?”
She didn’t know the truth of it then. He shrugged. It wasn’t his duty to tell her. “Ask the Elders.”
“I’m asking you.”
He stared at her for another moment. She met his gaze with strength and determination he would like to have on his side. She wasn’t going to quit. All right then. “Because he wanted to be Drakkon again. The Phoenix Amber was too limiting. My essence is not.”
She smiled at him but there was no humor in it. “You’re telling me that my father, who spent his life ridding the world of Drakkon, wanted to become one?”
“He was already Drakkon, just not in form,” Garion pointed out. “He knew about my power to transform others and he wanted it for himself. He wanted an army and he wanted to be king.”
“You’re a liar.”
“He re-altered Simion the Red, a Drakkon warlord in an effort to kidnap me. Ask the Elders, though I doubt they’ll tell you the truth.”
“I already know the truth.”
Garion didn’t watch her leave. He looked at his phone. At the only name on the screen.
Helena.
He wasn’t going to change his mind. Keeping her number was just inviting trouble. Seeing her again would be worse.
He remembered the music from William Hutton’s window and shut down his phone. He paid the bill with a hundred dollar tip, picked up his coat and left.
Chapter Four
He left the diner and pulled a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket. Helena snapped pictures of him looking around. Even from half a block away, he made the backs of her knees warm.
She shouldn’t have stormed out on him, but it was either that or dump his coffee in his lap. He was a fool to expect her to believe that garbage about her father re-altering a Drakkon. She didn’t remember Patrick White or her mother, Amanda, who died the same year, but she agreed with her father’s views on the deadly Drakkon. She believed the Elders when they told her there were no other Drakkon around when her father was killed. She would go on believing it until it was proven otherwise.
She shouldn’t have allowed her emotions to rule her when Gold spoke of Jacob. This could be the last time she’d see him. After all these years, she’d had the chance to get enough information to set the trap and all she’d learned was that he was single, definitely a recluse, and he loved his cat. True, those were good things to learn about a guy. But this wasn’t just any guy. This was a man who could turn himself into Drakkon and turn Jacob to cinder. What were his plans for her brother? She’d given him her number. But it wasn’t enough. She couldn’t lose him again, so she’d waited, hiding and hoping to follow him.
Was he going to see her brother right now?
Would he call her before he did?
She watched him hail a cab and lift his phone to his ear. Her heart pumped hard in her ears for a moment while she waited for her cell to ring. It didn’t.
She held out her arm and hailed a cab of her own. “Follow that taxi!”
Unlike the movies, the driver didn’t take off in a speeding frenzy to catch up. Instead, he turned in his seat and gave her an incredulous stare. “Look lady—”
“There’s a fifty dollar tip in it for you if you stop talking, turn around and catch up.” She reached into her bag and flapped a fifty she really couldn’t afford to throw around in front of him. “Go.”
Thankfully, there was traffic ahead and finding his cab wasn’t difficult. She kept her eye on Garion’s cab and called her brother while they headed uptown.
“He’s coming to see you.”
“Who?” came Jacob’s voice on the other end.
“Garion Gold. I just had breakfast with him.”
“What?” he shouted into the phone.
“He wants us to leave him and his sister alone or he’s going to transform an army. You called El’s phone two nights ago. Why?” she demanded then shouted at the driver. “Turn left!”
“Where the hell are you, Helena?”
“Jacob, why did you call her? I told you to stay away from her. Now, Gold intends to warn you in person.”
“Back up,” her brother insisted. “Why and when did you have breakfast with him?”
“He made himself available and…do you even realize how long I’ve been looking for him?”
“No, I guess I don’t. But Helena—”
“It’s okay. I’m okay. He was nice, considering.”
“Considering what? That he’s mankind’s greatest enemy?”
She nodded, angry that she’d let herself forget that important fact because of a couple of dimples and the rugged cut of a jaw. “Yes. And that he mentioned eating people just before he mentioned you.”
“Shit,” Jacob whispered, perhaps finally taking in the seriousness of this. “When’s he coming? Should I call Jarakan?”
“Are you home?”
“Yes.”
Jacob lived on Fourteenth. Garion’s cab was traveling uptown.
“He’s not coming now. But just be prepared to talk to him. No fighting. Let’s not get the Elders involved just yet,” she said. “If they make one wrong move, we lose him and possibly start a war. Though he threatened it, I don’t think Gold wants a fight. I’m doing what I can on this end to be there when you meet. But if he meets you without me, just agree to what he wants. Swear to leave his sister alone. Keep your mind clear. I think he’s telepathic.”
“Anyone who ever lived as Drakkon is telepathic,” he reminded her. Her mind wandered off and she tried desperately to remember her thoughts since meeting Garion. Her brother’s voice drew her back. “I’ll be okay. Nothing happened between El and me.”
“Good,” she breathed then lowered her voice so the cabbie wouldn’t hear. “Jacob?”
“Yeah?”
“He said our father wanted his Drakkon life back and that he wanted an army and to be king. He said Father re-altered a Drakkon warlord called Sim
ion the Red to kidnap him. Have you ever heard of him? I mean, if there was a Drakkon warlord in existence, the Elders would have told us about him, right?”
“Where are you?”
Her heart thumped hard in her chest. “You know something, Jacob. What is it?”
He muttered a curse and something about her knowing him too well. “I’d heard stories about a Red Drakkon.”
“Tell me you’re joking.” She shook her head. She wasn’t hearing this. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“Because what I heard were stories, Helena. They were never proven and our father had nothing to do with them.”
She was going to punch him in the face when she saw him. “What stories, Jake?”
“That a Red had used the Amber to transform. There was only one sighting in the north of England, I think. The Elders insist the stories are false.”
“The north of England?” she asked, her heart sinking. “Where Marcus Aquara lives?” Had Garion told her the truth about the Red? And if he had, did that mean the rest was true? “Jacob, are you telling me that there was another Drakkon around besides Gold who could have killed our father and you never told me?”
“There was hardly anything to tell you, Helena.”
“If Garion is telling the truth, it could have been something important to know.”
“Why?” her brother asked. “Would it have changed how you felt seeing Garion for the first time?”
“I have to go,” she told him, looking out the taxi window. “I’m here.”
“Where?”
She didn’t reply but hung up. Let him worry. He deserved it for not telling her about the Red. The Red. Was he real? What did it mean if he was?
She waited until the cab slowed on Seventy-second and West End; a nice neighborhood with the Hudson in view. Did Garion live here? Had he been living in New York all these years and she’d never known? What kind of pathetic Drakkon hunter was she?
She remained in the car and watched Garion head for the polished wood entry of a luxury apartment building. What did he know about her father, the Council, and Simion the Red? She’d thought he was lying. Surely, he had to be. She’d never expected that her brother had heard of the Drakkon! Stories he hadn’t considered important enough to tell her. Why was the only known sighting of the Red where Garion was raised? Garion knew things. She wanted to find out what they were.
