by ML Guida
“I’m kneeling down now.”
The dragon twisted its head, gold eyes narrowing. She gulped back pure terror and ignored it’s stare. Mariah studied the arrow. “I am not sure if you understand me, but I have to pull the arrow out.”
She placed her hand on the creature’s sleek scales, and closed her eyes, waiting for the beast to strike. The scales were smooth and not prickly. She was surprised she could feel the beast’s breathing and a beating heart. Opening her eyes, she met his steely gaze, but it wasn’t hostile. Perhaps it was more fear or understanding.
“I know it hurts,” she whispered. “Will you trust me?”
The scaled devil nodded. She sucked in a breath, and her eyes widened. “You understand me, oui?”
The dragon turned away and flopped its head onto its legs.
“I don’t know if that is an oui or no, but I am going to take it as oui.”
She gripped the arrow and pressed her hand around the wound. “I’m going to count to three. Please don’t kill me.” Her voice was stronger than the fear buried inside her. “One.”
The dragon tensed beneath her.
“Two.”
It trembled.
Not saying the word three, she yanked out the arrow, and blood spurted into the air. The dragon howled. Fire shot out of the cave, across the small ledge, and burst into the night sky. Rocks glowed and faded. Ashen stains blackened the opening of the cave.
Heat flushed over her body, and she wiped the sweat from her brow. The arrow clutched in her shaking hand, she waited to be burned or ripped to pieces. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“What the hell are you doing to my brother, lass?” A hard male voice turned her blood cold.
Mariah glanced up. A red-eyed vampire peeled back his lips and flashed his fangs. She was dead.
Three bats appeared behind the vampire and shifted into men. She bit the inside of her cheek and winced. A wounded dragon and four vampires blocked her escape.
Merde. Merde. Merde.
The first vampire stormed into the cave. “If you hurt him again, I’ll kill you.”
The dragon roared; fire shot out of his mouth, cave walls blackened. Mariah grimaced. The heat from his breath singed her sweaty skin.
The vampire skidded to a stop. “William?”
She glanced at the beast. “His name is William?”
“Aye.” The vampire folded his arms across his chest. “William O’Brien. I’m Kane O’Brien, captain of the Soaring Phoenix.”
Mariah slowly put the arrow onto the ground. “My Grand-mère said you would come.”
Kane frowned and gripped his sword. “Explain how you know this. Your life depends upon it.”
The vampires pulled out their weapons. Mariah shook, and her heart threatened to burst. She refused to cry or beg for mercy. She was a witch and wouldn’t let these vampires stop her from fulfilling her destiny to convince William to help her save her brother.
William growled, but he faced them, not her. Was he trying to protect her?
Squaring her shoulders, she met Kane’s piercing gaze. “Je suis Mariah Fey.”
“Mariah?” A black-haired vampire slid his sword back into its sheath. He grabbed Kane’s arm. “Cap’n, ’tis her. Lark’s sister. We found her.” His excited voice made her heart skip a beat.
Uneasiness skimmed over her. Not good. “You have been looking for me, oui?”
“Aye.” He put his hand on his chest. “I’m Ronan Macmillan.” He smiled. “We’re not gonna hurt you, I promise. Your brother and I were kidnapped and taken aboard the Fiery Damsel. Lark told us to look for you. Swore you were the only one who could break the spell.” Ronan rushed to her. “You must help us.”
She edged backward, away from the vampire, and tripped. Ronan clasped her hand and pulled her to his broad chest. Strength emitted from him. She was inches from his face and inhaled his warm breath. He was a handsome man with a strong square chin and high cheekbones. Desire burned inside her. She couldn’t tear her gaze from his lips, and an urge to kiss him brushed over her. Had he cast a spell on her?
Her breath caught, and she needed distance before she gave into the compulsion. “Monsieur, what is wrong with you? Please let go of me.”
He released her. “I’m sorry,” His voice was sad and lonely. Redness stained his cheeks.
She immediately missed the warmth of his touch.
“Your brother,” Ronan said, “told me stories about you, your power and your beauty.” He pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Those stories kept me alive in the bowels of the Fiery Damsel. You’re even more of bonnie lass than I imagined.”
Heat warmed Mariah’s cheeks. “Merci, monsieur. You are too kind.” She must get a hold of her wits. These were vampire pirates and she was alone. She shook off her fear and ignored Ronan’s woodsy scent, a scent that reminded her of the forest after a fallen rain.
She swallowed back her temptation to hold his hand again. “You have seen Lark, oui? Is he well?”
Ronan lowered his head. “Not since he was fitted with an accursed choker around his neck. Straight from hell.” His eyes darkened. “He…” His voice cracked. “He sacrificed himself to save us.”
She blinked back tears. Lark. Like their proud father, his honor would demand that he’d save others, even if at his own risk. “He did? Who else did he save?”
“Myself, Cap’n Knight and Knight’s daughter Hannah.” He braced his shoulders. “I dinna want to leave him. I’d have died tryin’ to free him.”
“Where is he?”
Ronan avoided her gaze. “Aboard the Fiery Damsel. He is Palmer’s slave.”
Fear welled inside Mariah. “Do they…” She swallowed hard. “Torture…him?” Her voice faltered as if she said torture too loud, it would be true.
He nodded. “Aye.” His eyes darkened. “He always tried to anger Palmer to get him not to hurt me.”
No, she didn’t want it to be true, but she read their grim faces. Brows knotted, mouths tight and eyes hard. Lark was trapped aboard a ship of horrors. Ronan had left him there, his supposed friend. Her desire for Ronan withered. Mariah wiped a single tear. “You claimed to be his friend and left him there to save yourself, no?”
Ronan hung his head. “I dinna want to leave him.”
“I don’t believe you, monsieur. My brother is imprisoned on a pirate ship while you are all free, oui? How could you all leave him there?”
Mariah wanted to beat her fists on Ronan’s chest and cast a spell that threw him and the others off the cliff onto the jagged rocks below. But if she tried to utter an incantation, the vampires would attack. She would never finish the words in time. Bitterness burned her in stomach. Lark had been left behind while the vampire pirates were all free. And now they wanted her help.
William turned to look at her, and sorrow glistened in his eyes.
“You donna understand, lass. He’s forced to do the cap’n’s biddin’.” Ronan’s slow voice brought back horrors she’d tried to forget.
She shuddered, remembering how her parents had been murdered in France. Some witches had been forced to do the bidding of unscrupulous men, such as casting spells to make them powerful. If they disobeyed, they’d been burnt or compelled to watch a loved one be tortured. What they’d done to the women—rape, brutality, disfigurement—gave her nightmares. What had Lark endured?
Tears pushed on the back of her eyelids. “Forced?” Her voice cracked.
William edged closer to her. He wrapped his tail behind her lower back. Was he trying to comfort her?
Kane approached. “You don’t want to know.” He nodded toward William. “What happened to him?”
A black-skinned vampire hurried past Kane. Concern filled his red eyes.
William hissed.
“Hush, William,” the black vampire said. “I’m not goin’ to hurt da lass.” He bowed slightly at Mariah. “I’m Doc, da ship’s surgeon.” He knelt next to William. “We done got to stitch da w
ound. Sean?”
“Aye?” A blond pirate came forward. He was tall, a beautiful man with long locks and a perfectly sculpted face. An angel of darkness.
“Go back to da ship an’ retrieve my bag.”
The angel folded his arms across his wide chest. “You want me to carry the bloody bag as a bat?”
“Sean.” Kane glanced over his shoulder.
“Aye, Cap’n,” he grumbled.
“No, wait.” Mariah held up her palm. “I have a thread and needle in my satchel. Grand-mère said the dragon would be wounded.”
Kane’s eyes burned darker. “Sean, we’ve met this grand-mère before, in Tortuga.”
Sean shook his head. “The old crone?”
“Aye.”
Mariah jerked open her satchel. “She’s not an old crone.” She produced her needle and thread. “Oui, she’s a witch. We’re not evil. We don’t practice the dark arts.”
They smirked and flashed each other a sideways glance. She bristled at that look—half turned up smiles and twinkling eyes that friends gave each other when they both realized they’d caught someone in a lie. Her.
But she was telling the truth. She’d lecture them on the difference between the white and dark arts if she thought it would do any good. But one thing she’d learned back in France was that people clung to their ideas, wrong or right, and nothing could change their suspicious minds.
Doc examined William’s wound. “’Tis deep. We need to stop da bleedin’. I need somethun to clean da wound.”
Kane took off his white shirt and handed it to Doc. “Here.”
Doc grabbed the shirt and ripped it into strips. “Ronan, da ground is damp. Go into da cave an’ see if there’s water.”
Ronan took a strip of the shirt and disappeared into the darkness.
Mariah stroked William’s scales, bloodying her hands again, but she didn’t care. The poor winged devil was in pain. “You’re going to heal. Grand-mère has foreseen it.”
Kane and Sean exchanged wary glances as if Grand-mère was a charlatan, and Mariah wanted to scream.
Doc wiped the sweat glistening off his brow. “He’ll be well. He’s done had worse injuries than this.”
William snorted.
Ronan reappeared with a wet calico. “There’s a small stream just around the corner.”
“Good.” Doc took the cloth and patted William’s wound. Blood drenched the fabric. He glanced at Mariah. “Thread da needle.”
Mariah nodded and followed his order, then wrapped her arms around William’s thick neck and leaned her head against his cheek. “They’re going to help you.”
William sighed and nuzzled against her throat.
“Go ahead, Doc.” Her strong voice hid the doubt clumped in her throat.
Doc frowned. “I’m not sure this needle can pierce his hide.”
Mariah met his leery gaze. “It will, Doc. ’Tis enchanted.”
Doc pushed the needle into the beast’s tough hide. William jerked, and Mariah hung onto him tight. He trembled beneath her as Doc stitched his wound. Her heart hurt for him. “I have you, William,” she whispered.
The tightness around Doc’s eyes lifted and he smiled. “There, all done.”
Mariah slowly released William. He laid his head in her lap, and she stroked the ridges of his brow bone. His eyes closed.
Kane clasped Doc’s shoulder. “He’ll heal?”
“Aye, he should.” He shrugged. “I done never worked on a giant lizard before. Mornin’ will tell.”
Ronan frowned. “Lass, you’re a bloody mess. Go yonder to the stream where you can have some privacy.”
She glanced at her white dress, now soaked in blood with splatters of red drenching her sleeves. She was a walking corpse.
Doc nodded. “He’s asleep. Go ahead and wash up, lass. I’ll stay with him an’ see that nothin’ happens.”
She shook her head. “Je vais bien, merci. I don’t want to wake him.”
Kane stared at her. “He trusts you.”
“Quoi? How do you know this?”
“I’m his brother, and he wouldn’t let me near him, but you…He even allowed you to rip out the arrow.” His eyes glowed, casting a red glare onto his features. “Did you put a spell on him before we got here?” His harsh voice made the hairs on the back of her neck quiver.
She stopped petting William and stiffened. “No, I didn’t, Capitaine.”
“Ah,” he said. But his doubtful expression sent shivers down her spine.
“Believe what you want.” She lowered her head, her hair blocking Kane’s pinched face. She returned to stroking William. He nuzzled into her lap, and she was surprised that he no longer terrified her. ’Twas like petting her dog, Solstice, a spaniel. Except William was ten times the size of her dog. What was it about petting him that soothed her? She liked the feel of his smooth scales, his warm breath on her lap and his charred scent. She yawned and leaned back against the cave wall.
“Lass,” Doc said.
“Oui?”
Doc shuffled his feet. “We’ve got to feed.”
His soft voice sent her heart galloping in fear. She sat upright and covered her throat. “Quoi?”
Kane narrowed his eyes. “Not on you.” He nodded to his crewmen. “You three go.”
Sean frowned. “But Cap’n…”
“I won’t leave my brother alone.”
Mariah trembled. He didn’t have to say it. He wouldn’t leave his brother alone with a witch. The other three nodded, changed into bats, and flew out of the cave. How could she rest with a sleeping dragon’s head in her lap and an angry, hungry vampire ready to kill her if she made one false move against his brother.
Chapter 3
Coaybay’s volcanoes erupted and a constant black fog swirled into the sky. The flowing lava river twisted in the canyon below and made it hotter than an inferno. Nothing ever changed in Maketabori’s Coaybay. The God of Coaybay didn’t understand beauty and love. Just destruction, fear, and hate.
Zuto’s eyes burned, and he tasted smoke on his lips. Vapor, heat, and death permeated down to his very core. He loathed it here. Sweat trickled down his body, and he wished he was back on his island. He wanted to jump into the ocean and wash off the filth from this place.
Angry black clouds masked the sun. Maketabori’s mountain temple was empty. His lord didn’t like to have walls imprisoning him.
The only movement inside was the gray smoke swirling from a smothered fire pit. Dying red coals revealed bits of bone and wood. No doubt, the remains of Maketabori’s latest victims. Zuto’s gut clenched. He hoped he wasn’t next. His lord didn’t tolerate failure and allowing the crew of the Soaring Phoenix to escape with Knight and his daughter fell into that category.
Lightning cracked and hit a solid gold chair nestled between two obelisks of ebony marble. Maketabori materialized. He drummed his fingers on the arms of his chair and glared at Zuto. His ruby eyes darkened to glowing embers. “You failed me yet again, slave.”
Fear cut into Zuto’s racing heart, but he put on a brave face and met his god’s angry stare. “I’m sorry, my lord.”
“Sorry?” Maketabori flicked long black hair behind his shoulder. “Is that all you have to say?”
“I have the witch. He’s slowly turning into a warlock.”
“And the Soaring Phoenix?”
He shuddered. No sense denying his failure. His lord would know, and lies were dealt with swiftly. “O’Brien escaped.”
Maketabori strolled over to him and Zuto stood still. He refused to move even a finger and give Maketabori the satisfaction of the fear percolating inside him. His master towered over him, a sneer spread across his lips. He yanked Zuto’s hair, forcing Zuto to stare up at him. “You shall be punished.”
Zuto waited for the unbearable pain of bones broken, torn muscles, torched skin.
Maketabori released him and sauntered back to his chair. Zuto held his breath. Why hadn’t Maketabori beaten him? Something wasn’t right.
>
“I believe you need help.” His master’s soft made the hairs on the back of Zuto’s neck stand up.
“Help?”
“Yes.” Maketabori grinned, a condemning smile that curled Zuto’s toes.
His lord snapped his fingers. “She’ll know how to insure the job is done.”
Zuto’s throat thickened, and he groaned. Not again.
Long, red-tipped fingernails gripped the back of Maketabori’s golden throne, followed by a movement of rustled skirts. Zuto’s heart pounded, and every muscle tensed. He’d rather be beaten and burned.
“Hello, Zuto.” A tall, curvaceous redhead sashayed out from behind Maketabori. Her red bodice pushed up her large breasts. Red slippers peered out from beneath a long, velvet gown of crimson. “I’ve missed you.”
He hadn’t missed her. If he didn’t see her or hear her overly sweet voice for another millennium, it would be one day too soon. “Natasa.”
Natasa pouted. “Ah, why the long face, handsome?”
Maketabori tilted his head. “He’s disappointed me. See that he does not do so again.”
Natasa smiled. Zuto’s gut twisted. He couldn’t get stuck with her at his side. Not again. She’d spoil everything, and he’d never get free from his perverted master.
“My Lord, I’ve cursed O’Brien’s brother. The spirit of Drakon will possess him during every full moon. I don’t need any help.” Zuto’s word spilled out of his mouth.
Maketabori frowned. “I don’t recall giving you permission to resurrect the dragon. He’s not to be trusted.”
Zuto cleared his dry throat. “He will do what is asked, my lord. I’ve told him that if he brings Hannah and her father to me then I’ll give him back his life.”
Maketabori raised an eyebrow. “You’ll give him back his life? You’ve not the power to do this.”
Zuto bowed his head. “Yes, my lord, but you do.”
“You made a bargain without consulting me? I’ll decide if a bargain will be made. I don’t trust you, Zuto, and believe you need to be under closer scrutiny.”
