Hunted (Book 2)

by Megg Jensen

  "We failed." Tressa words were spat out in disgust. "I refuse to just leave the rest behind."

  "Then fight, daughter."

  The five spun around. Tressa's father, Fenn, stood in front of them. With a cackle he transformed into a dragon, taller, wider, stronger than Connor had been moments ago.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  "Oh shit," Bastian mumbled under his breath.

  The red dragon spread a vast pair of black wings and snorted at the group. The fetid cloud enveloped them. Everyone but Elinor coughed. She'd been smart enough to draw her arm over her mouth and nose.

  "Connor?" Bastian asked.

  He didn't answer. Naked, he ran off to the side, changing faster than Bastian had ever seen him transform before.

  The cobalt dragon faced the red, his jaws open, saliva dripping from between his teeth. Connor was ready for blood.

  Tressa's sword whizzed as she brandished it in the air. "I'll ride Connor again." Before she could run toward him, Bastian grabbed her arm.

  "You'll stay right here," he said.

  Jarrett grabbed her other arm. "Bastian is right. You're not going anywhere. Getting in between these two would only lead to your death."

  "I did it before," she insisted between gritted teeth. "I can do it again."

  "You got lucky," Jarrett said. "Stacia was half the size of this dragon. She was weak, arrogant."

  "And you think he isn't?" Tressa spat on the ground. "My father will die, and I want to be the one to run him through."

  Jarrett dropped his grip on her. "Your father?" He gazed up at the dragon that was circling Connor, his claws bared, aggressive jaws snapping.

  "Yes. At least he was. Once upon a time. I don't know what happened to him. Why he's turned into..." her lips snarled, "this thing."

  "Bastian! Oh, Bastian!" Bastian spun around. A woman came running through the now deserted square.

  "Mother!" He let go of Tressa and took off running. He caught his mother's hand in his and pulled her to the safety of their group by the monument. "Are you okay? I've been worried about you." After he realized Fenn had been lying to him, he worried for her safety. She collapsed into his arms, her chest heaving.

  "Bastian?" He heard Elinor talking to him, but he ignored her. His mother's safety was most important.

  "Fenn is – "

  Jayne placed a finger over his lips. "I know. Fenn is the dragon. He's changed."

  "Are you okay?" Bastian asked. He ran his hands over her hair. She was so small compared to him. Such a tiny wisp of a woman, but she was his mother and he would forever be her little boy.

  "Bastian!" This time it was Tressa. What was their problem?

  A tug on his shirt interrupted his next question. He shrugged it off. Then a strange sensation bit into his arms. Like claws tearing at flesh. Blood gushing from an open wound. Eyes wide, he looked down at his mother.

  Her eyes glowed a bright red. A slash of obsidian ran marred the red glow.

  "No," he said. He tried to step backward. To get away, but her claws were embedded in his skin.

  "I would suggest staying right where you are," she said, a forked tongue sticking out between her lips. "If you move, you'll bleed out. I wouldn't want that to happen. Would you?"

  Bastian shook his head. He'd come here, expecting to play the hero just like he had in the misty forest. Just like he had when he'd saved Elinor from the kilrothgi and when he'd challenged Connor. Not once had he really thought he'd die.

  Now his mother, the woman who'd brought him into this world, held his life in her talons.

  He heard footsteps coming behind him. "Stay back," he shouted over his shoulder. The footsteps stopped abruptly.

  "He's right," Jayne said in a sweet voice. "I'll kill him if any of you get closer. Now, where is Connor? He is the beekeeper, is he not? I know he's not the dark one.” She pointed at Jarrett. “There were no dark-skinned people in Hutton's Bridge. Those filthy buggers are from the Sands. I see no other men with you. Now where is he?"

  Bastian glanced up at Connor, still in a stalemate with Fenn. Neither willing to strike first. Neither willing to back down.

  "Tell me where your little beekeeper friend is. We know he’s not dead, despite his wife’s pathetic pleas to the contrary, and I'll let you go so that girl in the black robe can heal you." She winked, her fat cheeks dimpling. "The healers here wear black too. It's their symbol of control over death. Hopefully she can do her duty for you. Just tell me where you are hiding Connor."

  "If I tell you, will you call Fenn back from his dragon form?" Bastian asked through gritted teeth. The pain was getting to him. If she didn't release him soon, he might not be able to avoid passing out. His head was already spinning.

  Jayne sighed. "I suppose." She pursed her lips, making a hooting noise.

  "That sounds just like the noise Narek used to make," Tressa said.

  Jayne's lips spread, baring her teeth. "Ah yes, the little owl you brought to us. Thank you. She was a very tasty meal. There's nothing like owl wings roasted over an open fire."

  "You bitch," Tressa screamed. "You killed my owl!"

  The scuffle of feet over brick told Bastian that Tressa was trying to get to his mother. The whizzing in the air indicated a sword. Her lack of appearance meant Jarrett was holding her back. Bastian smiled. He wasn't woozy enough yet to not understand what was happening behind him.

  "It's just a little signal we developed. The owl had a quite a unique little trill to it. No one ever suspects it's us." Jayne looked up at Fenn. "I suggest you call off your dragon, too," she said, "or this is likely to end with a lot of blood."

  "He does as he pleases," Jarrett called. "We have little control over him."

  It was true. Bastian knew better than anyone else how precarious Connor's control was. How Jarrett knew was beyond his understanding. He looked down at the blood dripping from his arms. He wanted to shake his head, clear out the fog, but he couldn't. He was weak, so weak.

  "Then Fenn will remain. He will kill your friend, and I will kill my son. Then we'll kill you, dark man. Then these two helpless little girls. We'll burn your bodies in the town square as an example. Traitors die. They burn. No one defies us. No one."

  "Wanna bet?" It was Tressa's voice. Bastian would know it anywhere. But he didn't know where she was.

  His mother didn't answer. There was only a strange gurgling sound. Like water bubbling over a brook. But it wasn't water. It was thicker. Smelled of copper. Everything swam in front of Bastian as she dug in deeper. His eyes rolled, and he fell to the ground.

  "Get her claws out of him, quick."

  A pause.

  Pain.

  Searing, burning pain unlike anything he'd ever felt before. A wave of nausea started in his stomach, riding up, and catching in his throat. His lips parted. A bubble popped. Warm liquid spilled over his cheeks.

  "He's going into shock. Help me pull him over here. Hurry!" It was a frantic voice. "I can't heal him if we don't move faster. It hasn't been a full moon yet. Help me!" The last one was a screech. One filled with fear. Panic. Affection.

  Bastian felt his body move. Not of his own volition. He was being dragged. His head rested on a rock. Small hands moved over his arms. Water washed over his wounds. Soft linen hugged his lacerations.

  He smiled. She was helping him. Again.

  Then everything went black.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  "Bastian's being taken care of by that woman. Let's end this." Tressa withdrew her sword from Jayne’s back. The woman thumped onto the ground, blood leaking from the wound Tressa had inflicted. Tressa spun the sword from side to side, the blood flinging off the blade. It was a little trick she'd learned from her mentor, Leo. She nudged Jarrett. "Are you with me?"

  "Do I have a choice? If I said no, would you sheath your sword and walk away with me? Let the dragons fight it out?" He placed a hand on her arm. "Your people are dead."

  Tressa forced her eyes away from the charred bodies. "Just the a
dults. The children are here. Somewhere."

  "Then let's fight," Jarrett said. "We didn't start this, but we might as well do our best to finish it."

  A smile spread across her face. He was brave. So handsome. She might even allow herself to truly love him someday. "Let's take down the red dragon."

  "That's your father." Jarrett pulled out his sword. "Are you sure?"

  "That was my father," she said. "I don't know what he is anymore. Connor changed, but he still fights for us. My father," she snorted, hating even calling him that, "fights for death."

  Tressa didn't look at Jarrett to see if he was following. She ran toward the dragons, still circling and feigning attacks. Raising her sword over her head, Tressa struck the red dragon's foot. She twisted the sword. The dragon screeched in pain as Tressa tugged her sword out of his scales. A sticky green substance covered the blade. It wouldn't come off as easily as the blood. Tressa ran to the side, hoping the dragon would follow her. She wanted him to turn his back on Connor. Her friend could strike, and it would all be over.

  But he didn't. The red dragon kept an eye on Connor, ignoring the girl under him. Tressa cursed. "Do something to distract him," she shouted to Jarrett, who had stuck his sword into the dragon's other foot. Nothing seemed to bother him enough to draw his attention.

  "It's not working," Jarrett said, running to her side.

  They watched as Connor's right claw slashed at her father, who sidestepped the attack. Neither had drawn first blood, or green goo, yet.

  "They could do this for forever," Jarrett said. He looked up to the night sky, taking in the stars. He grabbed Tressa's arm, starting. "Did you see that?"

  "See what?" She looked up at the heavens above. "Now isn't a good time for star watching, Jarrett." Then she gasped. For just a moment the stars blinked out of existence. Then they reappeared again as if nothing had happened. "What was that?"

  "I don't know," Jarrett said. "I've never seen the stars simply wink out for a few breaths."

  A keening rang through the sky. Low and ominous.

  "Oh no," Jarrett said.

  "What is it?" Tressa asked.

  "Run!" Jarrett grabbed his sword, then grasped her hand with his free hand. Tugging, he urged her to follow.

  She didn't hesitate. If Jarrett told her to jump off a cliff with him, she'd do it. Her trust in him had no bounds after everything they'd been though. The scream grew in intensity and pitch.

  Jarrett stumbled, pulling Tressa down with him. They cowered on the ground, their hands over their ears. "What is that?" Tressa shouted.

  Jarrett didn't answer. Not with words. He pointed upward, his finger trembling.

  Tressa looked up and finally saw what had made the stars disappear.

  Dragons. A horde of black dragons flying through the night sky, completely undetected by those on the ground. It was their natural camouflage. No one had seen them coming. Least of all Tressa's father who had changed back into a human. He took off in a run, heading for the old building. Against her better judgment, she hopped up and took off after him. Her legs ached. She'd traveled hard and far to get here. All in an effort to save a town full of people who'd just been killed.

  All that remained were the children, and she wouldn't leave them behind. She would find them.

  Her father disappeared into the doorway. Tressa took a deep breath and followed him in. Her heart pounded in her chest as the darkness overtook her vision. With her arms out in front of her, Tressa walked carefully, listening for any sound. A kicked pebble. The scrape of an arm against a rock wall. Anything that would alert her to her father's presence.

  The silence overwhelmed her. Only the sound of her breathing tickled at her ears. Tressa stood still and closed her eyes. She'd traversed the darkness once before. She'd survived beasts, evil queens, and being dumped in the ocean to drift. She would survive this.

  "My daughter." The voice, tinged with anger, echoing. "You can choose to join me. Your love lies dying outside. You have nothing left."

  So he thought she was still in love with Bastian. Someone might have been watching her, prepared for her to come to this city, but they didn't know everything.

  Tressa forced a wet sniffle. "I think he's already dead."

  "As my Jayne lays dead at your hands. It was a stroke of genius, you know. Attacking her from behind. It wouldn't have worked on me, but Jayne never thought far enough ahead. She was more of a follower than a leader. Not like us. You and I are of the same blood. We come from a long line of leaders." He stopped, taking a loud, deep breath. "If you come with me, if you work with me, you will reap rewards beyond any you can imagine."

  Tressa remained quiet. He was a tool, guided by a strong hand. But whose? Who wanted Connor and his honey so badly that they would kidnap an entire town of people?

  "Your offer intrigues me," Tressa said, allowing her voice to shake. Let him think she was still nervous. "But who would we be working for? Who do you report to?"

  There was no answer. Only silence.

  She cursed herself. She'd gone too far. He'd see through her ruse. Sweat dripped from her palms.

  "If you join me, you will meet my masters. But only if you drink all of this. Every last drop." He snarled just in front of her face.

  Tressa leapt backward. How could he move so quickly without a sound?

  He snapped, the braziers coming to life again. Her father stood in front of her, dressed in a robe, holding out a cup carved from a bone. Grotesque figures writhed across the body of the cup, their mouths open in agony, eyes bugged out and fearful. "Drink this, and be my daughter again in every way."

  She took the cup in shaking hands. A liquid splashed in the cup. She took a sniff, recognizing the coppery scent. Blood.

  Her father smiled, his teeth filed into points. He hadn't looked like that when she'd met him in the forest. He hadn't seemed so evil then either. Now, though, he was beyond her help.

  She thought of Connor. He was out there somewhere. He'd become a dragon, yet he still fought for good. The madness she'd seen in her father, Stacia, and Jacinda hadn't swallowed him. Maybe it wouldn't swallow her either.

  "Drink from the cup of life, my daughter." Fenn’s voiced dripped with malevolence.

  Tressa looked up. Her eyes met his. Red and slitted, bloodshot and angry. If giving in would save the children, she’d take the risk.

  "If I drink from this cup, will you take me to whoever controls you?"

  He laughed. "No one controls me. I fight for what I believe in. The power here is beyond anything you can imagine. You've only seen a bit of what I can offer you."

  Tressa stood still, feeling her heart thud in her chest. The cup touched her bottom lip. She tilted it, a droplet of blood washing over her lips as they parted. The thick liquid ran down her throat like silk over her naked body. Luscious. Sexy. Perfection.

  The cup flew out of her hand at the same time a sword cut into her father's abdomen.

  Jarrett kicked her father, pushing him off his sword. He crumpled to the floor. "Did you drink any of that?" Jarrett asked. He stabbed Fenn another time in the chest, just over the heart. Fenn didn’t even have a chance to fight back.

  Tressa shook her head no. It had only been a little. Not enough to matter. Not enough to make her feel any different. No one needed to know.

  “How did you —"

  "I followed you and snuck in a window. Let's go," Jarrett said, grabbing her hand. "Connor, Elinor, Bastian, and Avital have already flown off toward the Drowned Country. The black dragons are still here. One has agreed to fly us there too."

  Three women emerged from the back of the building, holding hands with the children of Hutton’s Bridge. Hazel held onto a fourth woman, shuffling past Tressa and Jarrett. She offered Tressa a small smile.

  Tressa followed Jarrett blindly, stumbling through the building. They emerged into the night, a black dragon with blue eyes waiting, down on one knee. Jarrett lifted Tressa on its back and mounted behind her.

  “The
children,” she gasped, pointing to the huddled mass of dirty orphans. Hazel sat on the ground, her two boys in her lap and Bastian’s daughter sleeping in front of her.

  Jarrett waved to a woman with black hair, black eyes, and porcelain skin. She nodded, waving to the other dragons. They were hissing at the townspeople who cowered in fear at the edges of the square.

  "Fi will make sure they’re brought back with us.” Jarrett said.

  Fi? Who was Fi? The world swam in front of her eyes.

  Hang on to its scales," he whispered in her ear. "I've got you from behind."

  She nodded. She felt so strange. Maybe she’d swallowed more blood than she thought. Tressa leaned her head back, resting it on Jarrett's chest. Her heart danced in the cold night as they ascended into the sky.

  "We have to thank the gods that the black dragons showed up. I don't know how they knew or why they chose to help us now." Tressa could feel Jarrett shake his head behind her. "We thought the Black had died out. Now rest. Sleep if you can. I have you."

  Tressa agreed. She needed sleep. She was suddenly and overwhelmingly exhausted.

  Epilogue

  Jarrett laid Tressa down on the fluffy bed in the room Elinor had shown him to. He'd carried Tressa in his arms after the black dragons left them and the children of Hutton’s Bridge at the castle at Ashoom. They’d flown into the dark of the night, leaving behind only one of their kind.

  Elinor had greeted them with a whisper, telling Jarrett the rest of the castle was asleep. She snuck them through the hallways to an expansive chamber.

  She didn't ask if Jarrett wanted a separate room. He didn't request one. It would take an army to pull him away from Tressa now.

  Tressa had slept the whole flight back. The sun was nearly rising when he finally laid her in the bed in her shift. He stretched out next to her, stroking her hair.

  Tressa was beautiful. The most exquisite woman he'd ever known. Her beauty lay in the simple lines of her face. In the lofty standards she expected from people. Jarrett didn't need, nor want, obvious beauty. He didn't crave a title or a throne. He wanted the woman sleeping in front of him, but only if she would have him too.