by Susan Arden
Scratching a set of razor sharp talons down his neck, Drake curled the other talons on the tips of his hind paws into the ground, and produced a sound similar to human nails being scraped across a chalkboard.
The Jinni raised an inky eyebrow in question. “Am I boring you?”
“Of course not,” Drake returned, attempting to flatten the sarcasm out of his voice. After all, the genie held his challenge and could, at the last moment, change it into something that would tax his abilities. He didn’t fear failure, but he didn’t want to walk away and require a period of recuperation. Not when Shay needed him full throttle.
“Leave us,” the Jinni said to the female serving him.
“Your liege,” his concubine replied.
Oh brother. Drake kept his eyes half-lidded, fighting a yawn.
“Get up, Noah,” the Jinni commanded in an irked voice. “So the impossible has occurred. You’ve found a mate.”
It was the signal that Drake was free to approach him. Hot damn. “Surprise.”
“More like taken aback. What’s she like?” the Jinni asked, tilting his head.
“You’d like her. She’s full of spit and vinegar.”
“She’d have to be to put up with you, but more than your union prompts you to return to us. Makes me wonder why the prodigal son has returned to the rage.” The Jinni whipped the long braid he wore over his shoulder and picked up a pair of reading glasses. He dusted off a leather-covered volume that sat on a table beside his throne. Drake remembered the book. It contained the names of each of his family, his entire rage’s history and now, his name and Shay’s would be entered on a page, along with their children, and their children’s children for as long as their line existed.
With his spectacles on, the Jinni appeared studious as he licked his finger and thumbed his way through the book. “Ah. Here we are,” he said, peering over the rim of his glasses to Drake, and squinted. “Herensuge bloodline. Powerful. Loyal. But pigheaded as I’ve ever witnessed. Did you bring the seal?”
“Yes,” he said curtly and removed the Herensuge seal. He handed it over to the Jinni and watched the genie study the inscription.
“Family. Faith. Fire.” The Jinni then murmured, “Paloma O’Connor de la casa Draco Herensuge. Eternal light. Your mother was a rare beauty in these parts.” The genie clucked his tongue and shook his head, blinking his almond-shaped eyes, then exhaled so forcefully the flames from the torches on the wall flickered wildly. “She exists on other planes. Far, far away from here. Thank the goddesses.”
He nodded, not sure what to make of the Jinni’s words. Of course she existed in another plane, all dragons did whose life forms had been extinguished. Drake stood at attention, feeling more on edge and unsure what the Jinni might reveal next.
The Jinni fingered the book and crossed his legs, rubbing a hand over his face. “Drake, I won’t lie. I’ve waited for this day for a long time. Your ego and your pride function as a double-edged sword at times in your life and the lives of others. You’re aware of the rules of the game. Twenty-four hours. Not a second longer. If you fail, you will perish and your mate will go unclaimed. Dangerous for the mother of dragons. Are you prepared to receive your quest this day?”
“I am,” he bowed, the over-indulged kind as was required, extending his foreleg with a flourish and deeply bending at the waist.
“Rise and receive your challenge Drake O’Connor de la casa Draco Herensuge.”
Drake stood upright, his senses pulled taut, his muscles constricted into bands of steel. “Your grace,” he replied.
“You are charged with bringing back the clutch of elemental eggs belonging to the flame throwing salamander.”
“Hah, you almost had me.” Drake cracked a smile. “Seriously, what’s my quest?”
The Jinni turned his eyes to him, flashing rainbow colors outward. His steepled his tattooed fingers, flexing his arms in a gesture that made his bronze-colored skin ripple in response. “I’m very serious. Six eggs delivered to me by tomorrow. Free of the ranavirus. I want a pristine specimen. Get my drift?”
“Let me get this straight. I’m being asked to go on some sort of egg hunt.” As Drake spoke, flames erupted from mouth and nostrils. “You’re serious?”
“I’m not one to play games last time I checked,” the Jinni replied, cocking his head.
Drake stood before the Jinni and growled, “My brother before me was sent out on a quest to bring back the treasure of the Voltan. He traveled to the Yucatan. And you send me out to go searching for the eggs … of a salamander?”
The genie nodded and dipped an elaborate candle into the flame of the eternal torch to his side, then he lit the wick of a stick of blood red wax, dripping several drops of magickal globules onto the page in Drake’s family history book. On the page inscribed with his name and symbol, the Jinni wrote in an ancient scrolling text, signifying the quest had been given and received.
Closing his eyes, Drake clamped his jaws tight, unable to speak for a moment. Slowly, he peeled open his eyes, and forced himself to shut the fuck up.
The Jinni picked up and pressed the Herensuge seal into the wax. It effectively was a done deal.
Drake scrubbed his hand over his face, snagging his talons on his snout, uncaring that he scraped his chin. “Are we done?” he barked, baring his teeth, consumed by his foul mood.
The Jinni stood and held out the seal to him. When he reached for the seal, the Jinni pulled back and quickly changed hands and caught his foreleg. “This quest is very important to the survival of your family. Make no mistake: if I do not receive those eggs, your family will die out within a decade. The salamander is an elemental—keeper of the flame and only a handful exist. When they go extinct, so do you.”
The Jinni whispered the last part and the entire cavern went dark. Mere seconds later, the wind howled and Drake felt a cold run through his bones, through his whole being, and he understood. Without the flame, the dragon lost his power. He had been charged with bringing back the fuel that kept his family alive.
Fuck! “Are we free to leave?”
“As you will,” the Jinni’s voice reverberated off the walls.
Noah nodded, his face hidden in shadows except for his feral red eyes. “Dude, let’s make like the wind and book.”
CHAPTER 21
Gustov threw back his head and howled. Literally. “Funny. But I’m not afraid of you or that scaled mongrel fiancé of yours. He didn’t do a thing back in Louisiana to me, now did he?”
This jerk didn’t realize how close he’d come to being charred well-done by Drake. The irony that she’d begged Drake not to go after this idiot played upon her. She could barely contain the urge to kick him in the shin. Her canines sprung free and in seconds it would be this gypsy jerk’s turn to run and hide. Did he really want to tango with a woman who’d spent the last five months reeling in her rage?
Glancing around, she needed to get her hands on something like a tire iron to smack him so hard, his Fae head would spin. In frustration she roared, hoping that someone from the Den would notice business as usual was not going down on this side of the parking lot. She waited, but the staff scurrying about didn’t break stride. No one looked up or over. A little help would be nice!
“Gustov, don’t touch her,” a hoarse voice whispered.
Shay glanced around and saw no one, only a flicker. And then Dimitri materialized. “Ta-dah,” he jeered, snapping his fingers. His two children and the other men he’d had at his table materialized as well. “Now we’re ready to roll, as you Americans like to say.”
How did he shield himself as well as this tribe of morons? Had to be the gypsy’s doing. Before she could shift into her primal form, Dimitri reached out and grabbed her hair, showing her the curved dagger before he pressed it into her neck. “I’ll gut you without thinking twice. Those pups you’re carrying are worth just as much dead as alive. Stem cell transplant mean anything to you? Because, to me, it’s a highly lucrative endeavor.”
Really needed to bone up on spell options in the future. No time to feel guilty on that one. Hindsight—blah-blah. She imagined that no matter what Dimitri spouted off, live dragons were worth a helluva lot more than cells and she pressed her hand to her belly. Don’t listen to this mean and nasty man, she mentally whispered to her sweet babies.
A valet walked right by her and nodded. “You out for a smoke?”
She had to try something and replied, “I’m being held against my will. Tell Drake—”
Dimitri yanked a handful of her hair and she screeched. “I’ll kill the kid. His blood will be on your hands, bitch.”
“You an actress?” the young man shot back. “That was pretty good. And funny.” He must have thought her a nutcase, not an actress, and took off in a sprint towards a car.
Dammit. They approached a large black Hummer wagon. An unusual version. “You were downtown yesterday. Weren’t you?”
Necrodemas laughed. “I wanted to see with my own eyes your betrayal.”
“Dad, enough with the drama. She’s nothing but a cash cow. Jeez,” his daughter Morgan whined. The young woman trudged up to the side of the Hummer, rolling her eyes. “Someone unlock the doors already.”
“Shut up, Morg,” Dimitri’s son replied in low voice. His golden eyes flickered over to her, lingering longer than necessary. She couldn’t recall his name, but he had the same creeper qualities as his dad—especially with his gaze glued to her chest. He opened the back door to the Hummer and motioned to her.
“Deal with her, Duncan!” Dimitri shoved her in his son’s direction.
For a second anger flared in Duncan’s eyes but just quickly dissolved. Hmmm, maybe he could be used. He reached for her, clasping her by the elbow, and for a millisecond, their gazes fused, and he stared back at her. Assuredly she didn’t find the anger he’d disclosed when looking at his father. Morgan and Duncan were probably offspring from Dimitri’s mate number six or seven. She hadn’t memorized any information on his wives other than he’d married a dozen—at least. Some of the marriages lasted for years, but the more recent ones lasted months and were a red flag to anyone with functioning brain cells. These Necrodemas offspring’s mom had passed away and might be cause for Duncan to be willing to work against his father.
Pestrolii got in and took the wheel. Christ, this was going to be a wild and dangerous ride if the gypsy was driving. Necrodemas took shotgun and the other men climbed into the rear, taking the jump seat of the Hummer.
More eye rolling from Morgan who whined under her breath about being cramped but Shay would be damned if she’d get into a juvenile high school snipping match with this woman. She had to be older than Shay, but she acted insolently. No brainer—she was Necrodemas’s kid.
Shay sat there, digesting the severity of the situation and made the decision to call on Drake. This was 9-1-1 material and he was the only one who could rescue her. Oh God! She’d have hell to pay for this fiasco she’d gotten herself into.
“What are you waiting for, Duncan?” The gypsy stared from the rearview mirror.
What the crap was he talking about? She peered over at Duncan and he grimaced, slipping his hand into his jacket pocket.
“You made this all too easy, Miss Barclay and for that I thank you,” Pestrolii snarled.
Before she could reply or link minds with Drake, Duncan jabbed her with a syringe. “Holy hell! What’s in … ” She shivered at the sudden cloudy feeling of cold rolling over her body. Then everything went to black.
• • •
Drake landed outside the mouth of the ice cave and forcibly blew out a plume of fire, lighting up the sky. Not smart, but he couldn’t help himself. He was two clicks past angry as the phoenixes gathered around him.
Noah touched down next to him, shaking his head. “Plan?”
He barked, “Hell if I know. I’m not a goddamn biologist!”
“No, you aren’t but Evan’s wife is,” Noah replied, cocking his head toward his crewmate.
“Dude, what kind of challenge did you get?” Evan asked.
“Need to find half-dozen … eggs.”
Grant whistled. “What kind requires a biologist?”
“Salamander. Not just any. Some virus is wiping them out. We need eggs from a healthy flamethrower that just happens to reside somewhere down there,” Drake growled, straining to make out the valley below. With his dragon infrared sight, he zoned in on creatures and cold-blooded were harder to detect than mammals. Harder but not impossible.
“We’re going to need nets, gloves, containers. That’s what Fiona uses when she treks through the creeks and rivers. The forest has loads of critters.”
“Even in January?” Drake asked, less confident as he turned back to Evan. “Not a lot of movement.”
“‘Cause dude, you gotta know where to look,” Evan said with the utmost confidence. “I got this.”
“Fly back to your place, load up, and meet us down off from Dead Man’s Landing.”
“You’re going to be splashing around the Columbia River?”
“Ideas?” Noah snarled.
“Leaf litter. Think smaller bodies of water. Creeks or ponds.”
“Where?” Drake asked.
“Spirit Lake. Panther Creek.”
His ears pricked, and his heart squeezed. “Good idea. Meet us at Panther Creek,” he murmured, thinking of his wayward feline mate. He hunched down without further address, and took to the night sky. Grant and Noah flew, drafting off him. They were fast, but he was much faster with a mission, less than a day to complete. Eggs, he muttered to himself. Yeah, he got their importance, but he’d never live this down. Fucking Christ!
• • •
By the first light of day, they’d scoured miles along the banks of Spirit Lake, and had followed the Lewis River into Panther Creek. They walked a grid, sweeping back the leaf litter, gingerly picking up rocks, and still every blasted salamander they’d encountered either tested positive for some fucking fungus or had signs of the ranavirus—missing limbs and red mouths.
A squiggly rust-spotted flamethrower ran over Drake’s foot. He scooped up the bloated salamander in his fingers, and squinted. “Evan,” he hollered.
“You got something?”
“Naw, I wanted to ask your opinion if my ass looks big.”
Evan ambled over and peered down at his palm. “That one looks pregnant…like she’s ready to lay her eggs. Man, don’t drop her.”
They were all out here, naked with the exception of wearing blue latex gloves. No place to tuck the plastic baggie except by holding it between his teeth. Drake!
He blew out a lungful of smoke at the sound of Shay’s voice. He’d avoided mind linking with her, not wanting her to get wind of this snafu, and fully expected he’d have to explain why he’d gone mute from yesterday, but she sounded stressed.
Baby! What’s up?
Mouthing to Evan, he said, “Test this one.”
The phoenix pulled out a small field test kit from the pack his wife had loaded for them. Luckily for him, Evan’s wife held a PhD in biology and was a professor at the University of Oregon—or maybe this was all feeding the Jinni’s wry sense of humor. The genie had always enjoyed these types of chessboard moves, already had known Drake’s personal phoenixes had the skill set to accomplish this task.
Oh Drake, I’ve made a mess of things.
His brows scrunched together.
Shay, what are you talking about?
She coughed. Wait a second. I need to pretend that I’m still asleep. It’s hard when I’m
trying to mind link.
“Good on this one. You found a healthy specimen,” Evan stated, and whistled loud, waving his arms for the other phoenixes to group up.
“Whistle over there,” Drake snarled, pressing his hands over his ears.
Baby, what the hell is going on?
Shit. He didn’t have his cell phone and their only form of communication was a satellite phone that Evan had in his pack. Nothing but static noise filled his mind. Shay, who had called out to him, had now gone silent!
“Let’s get back to the Jinni, check in and I need to rock-n-roll back to Denver.” During the flight to the ice cave, Shay moaned once and his patience eroded.
He bellowed molten flames at which Noah yelled. “Watch it, dude!”
Landing in the outer chambers of the Jinni, he clenched his jaw. That was it. No more Mr. Nice Guy. As he tore off his blue latex gloves, off came all the other proverbial gloves as well.
SHAY, FUCKING TELL ME WHAT IS GOING DOWN!
He stormed into the Jinni’s receiving room and signaled to Noah to go through the motions of bowing and scraping. “Your noble servant returns,” Noah murmured.
“So soon. You’ve still hours before you were due back.”
“We didn’t kill the mother salamander,” Drake said sharply, in need of dispensing this formality and getting his ass back to Denver. “My guard confirmed she’s ready to lay her eggs.”
“You brought me the mother as well as the eggs?” the Jinni looked over the top of his glasses as he sat by the fire, reading.
“Don’t tell me that’s a problem,” he retorted, ready to blow his top.
“On the contrary,” the Jinni said softly, laying down his book and rising. He came over to Drake and took the specimen box, observing the salamander that now glowed bright orange. “You’ve done very well for yourself.”
The Jinni snapped his fingers and a woman fully clothed, wearing a lab coat and dark-framed glasses came forward. She looked around nervously and he nodded. “Dr. Matthew, your new project. This is the correct species, am I right?”
