Ember's Kiss

by Deborah Cooke

  Garrett. The older boy was named Garrett. He lifted his hands as if he were a dragon and clawed at the air, baring his teeth and pretending to fight. Sara tousled his hair.

  “Tails coiled inside the circle,” Liz instructed, and the Pyr slid their tails across the sand. They each had their tails unfurled to the left, which gave the circle a scaled perimeter.

  She smiled approval, then beckoned to Brandon. “Stay in human form,” she said. “It will make you look weaker.”

  “He’ll probably make me change forms, anyway, to show his power.”

  “Maybe he can’t, since his spell is weakened and so is he,” Sloane said.

  Liz gave Brandon a look. “You could pretend that he’s making you change. Give him a false sense of power.”

  Brandon nodded agreement with that plan. “That puts surprise on our side. I like it.” She indicated the very center of the circle, positioning him to face the north. He met the steely gaze of Erik and knew that everyone understood how high the stakes were. “Is this going to work?” he asked Liz in an undertone.

  “It should work,” she said. “I will summon him. He will come for the bait, which is you. The Pyr can surprise him, and everyone else will be safe within the circle.” She bit her lip. “Recognize that I’m trying to make him appear inside the circle. He won’t be able to leave it, if everything goes according to plan, but he might be able to manifest elsewhere, since that’s one of his powers.”

  “He’d leave the same way he comes in,” Brandon said.

  Liz nodded. “The idea is that you will all injure him badly enough that he can’t do that.”

  “He will have to be killed,” Erik said with resolve.

  “No injury will be sufficient,” Sloane agreed.

  “So we take him hard and fast,” Quinn said, then nodded. “I’m ready.”

  “Use dragonsmoke,” Niall said. “If we can establish a conduit, we can sap him of his energy.”

  “I say we build a dragonsmoke barrier as Liz casts her circle,” Erik said. “It takes time to build a fortified barrier.” At Liz’s nod, the four older Pyr began to breathe slowly and steadily. Brandon knew Liz wouldn’t be able to see the dragonsmoke they breathed, but she’d certainly feel how the air chilled.

  “Stay inside the circle,” Liz reminded the women again. “Do not break the perimeter, no matter what happens.”

  They nodded agreement, but Liz looked each one in the eye. Brandon understood that this was the vulnerability of the plan.

  But there was no other choice. They had to try to defeat Chen while he was weak. Brandon watched Liz raise her hands to the sky and hoped this wasn’t the way they parted forever.

  She began to chant something in a language he didn’t understand; then she picked up the bucket of salt she’d brought and began to cast the protective circle around them all.

  One thing about rituals was that they were reassuring. Liz calmed down as she began to cast the circle. It was routine work, something she’d done a thousand times, and the familiar gestures and words built her confidence.

  There was so much that was unpredictable about this spell. She didn’t know this area well or have the familiarity with its vibrations she would have preferred. She didn’t know nearly enough about dragons, either Pyr or Slayer, to be sure that she was covering the important possibilities. She wasn’t sure that Chen was weakened enough that he could be defeated, and she feared that Brandon could be not just bait but also prey.

  It didn’t hurt to have five dragons with her, much less their own understanding of their nature. She hoped they could make decisions on the fly, and expected that Erik would be good at that.

  She’d assigned each Pyr to a cardinal point on instinct, her choices based on the colors of their scales and any sense of conviction. She remembered Sloane saying that each Pyr had affinities to two elements and kept that in her mind as she chose.

  Erik had been an obvious choice for the north, which was associated with both the colors black and silver. In Wiccan thinking, north was governed by earth. As leader of the Pyr, she guessed that Erik had a firm interest in the physical welfare of the other dragon shifters—his paternal tendency, after all, had brought him to Brandon and was manifesting in his protectiveness.

  Sloane, as Apothecary of the Pyr, belonged in the west. She’d been uncertain of that for a moment, since west was governed by blue and Quinn was sapphire in dragon form. But Sloane had empathy and sympathy. He’d need that to heal others, and that association with water was more important to Liz in making the assignment than the color of his scales.

  Niall was an easier choice. East was associated with the element of air and the color white in Wiccan symbolism. Although Niall was amethyst and silver, there was something ethereal about him, something electric about his presence. Liz went with her gut and assumed he had a connection to the element of air.

  And Quinn was in the south, the cardinal point governing fire, passion, and the color red. Although his scales were not red, he worked with fire routinely and there would be a lot of glowing red coals and iron in his life. That the Aztecs associated the southern direction with the color blue just gave more credence to Liz’s choice.

  The Pyr felt right to her in those places. She looked around at them, noting the vivid hue of their auras and the way the light crackled against the sky. The circle was already lit with flickering light.

  Once the circle was cast, Liz welcomed the elements at each cardinal point of the compass. She noticed that the wind was gusting more with every passing moment. Erik was watching the sky, his dragon eyes glittering. The ocean was becoming choppier, too, the waves growing in size. She saw Brandon watching the surf, a frown on his brow. Liz could feel the power she was summoning and assumed the elements were responding to her call.

  Once the perimeter was secured, she began the beckoning chant. Brandon held the silver vial that Chen had given him days before, the one that had held the Dragon Bone Powder. At her nod, he held it in front of himself, the anchor to the spell she was casting. It had been Chen’s possession, so it also had a link to the Slayer. Liz kept it fixed in her thoughts.

  She began at the north and shuffled her feet in the sand, creating a trough that wound in a counterclockwise direction. She repeated the spell, and Eileen followed her, adding her voice to the chant and deepening the trough of the spiral. She guided Zoë to stay between the two of them.

  Liz was reminded of the spiral dance she had done once at a Wiccan gathering. She reached back with her right hand and took Zoë’s left hand, never breaking her chant. Eileen watched and ensured that the link was made the same way. Each of them would have their right hand back and their left hand forward.

  Give with the left and receive with the right. Liz heard her mother’s instruction as if that woman was directly behind her. Liz would be the terminus of the energy they built—and she might need every scrap of it. Her heart skipped with trepidation.

  At the western point, Sloane bowed his head as they passed, as if paying homage to the power Liz could already feel building.

  When they passed the southern point, Sara stepped into the trough behind Eileen. Liz felt the tips of her hair illuminate as Sara’s power was added to the line, and she felt seared by the connection to their son Garrett. The boy was remarkably powerful, even at his young age. Quinn’s eyes narrowed as if he understood what she was feeling, and Liz realized that he knew his son had an affinity to fire, too.

  There were sparks dancing over Liz’s skin by the time they passed the east and Rox joined their conga line. She, too, joined hands, and Liz caught her breath at the surge of energy she felt added to their line. These were powerful women, each in their own right, and Liz supposed she should have expected as much from the mates of dragon shifters.

  The power was growing exponentially, making the hairs on her arms stand up. The auras of the Pyr were becoming brighter and radiating more broadly. The women chanted together, completing the first round of the circle, and Liz s
aw the approval in Erik’s eyes. She turned inward, making the circle into a spiral, and raised her voice. The women became louder, too.

  Black clouds were gathering overhead and the wind swirled around the outside of the circle. She was reminded of wind sprites that could dance in whirlwinds and hoped there were other spirits gathering to help them.

  The women sang together with force, the Pyr joining the chorus. Liz felt the crackle of energy in the circle and she saw the flicker of flames around the perimeter. She felt the power continue to increase. The mark on her chest from her mother’s pendant tingled. Her blood sizzled. Her skin shone. The Firedaughter flame rolled over her and illuminated her, charging her every gesture with the element of fire. The inside of the circle was filled with a golden glow, a radiant orb of fire power.

  Liz reached the middle of the circle and raised her left hand. The power the women had gathered ran through her body like an electrical current. Liz finished the chorus, then shouted the command to complete the spell, even as she lifted Brandon’s hand and that silver vial toward the sky.

  There was a crack of lightning, its jagged light slicing through the air. The lightning touched the end of the vial. She saw the silver vial light with white fire. She gaped at the image of her mother within the flame’s dancing lights; then the auras of the Pyr were extinguished.

  And everything happened very fast.

  Thorolf was in bed in a flat in Bangkok. It was late, really late, and the city beyond the window was coming as close to silence as it ever did. He rolled over, reaching for Viv’s warmth.

  He was exhausted.

  He was a bit drunk.

  He’d had more sex since meeting Viv than ever in his life—which was saying something. Thorolf loved women and he loved sex.

  Yet he just couldn’t get enough of Viv. She nestled against him and he was instantly ready, all over again. He had just closed his eyes and touched his lips to her nape, had just heard her sigh of satisfaction, when someone jumped him from behind.

  He felt the talons lock into his shoulder.

  He smelled Slayer, way too late.

  He roared and spun, intent on defending Viv.

  Gold talons dug deeply into his skin, holding him captive. Thorolf glanced back and Chen chuckled, murmuring something that disoriented Thorolf. He was breathing dragonsmoke, weaving it around Thorolf with dizzying speed and sucking him dry. He was also bleeding, his black Slayer blood running from a wound in one eye. It scorched the floor when it dripped onto it, but the injury didn’t seem to weaken him.

  Thorolf struggled. He fought. He tried to shift shape but couldn’t. It just didn’t work.

  Chen laughed softly, unsurprised.

  That was when Thorolf panicked.

  It made absolutely no difference. He was completely powerless, as he had never been in his life. Chen held him down, his ferocious strength keeping Thorolf captive. He rolled Thorolf to his back and bared his teeth, closing in to eat Thorolf’s guts.

  Yet Viv slept, oblivious to his struggle, rubbing her feet against him like a cat. He had the biggest erection of his life, which just made the moment more surreal.

  There was nothing sexy about being devoured by Chen.

  It was his worst nightmare come true.

  Thorolf heard himself moan as he felt Chen’s breath on his belly.

  He thrashed, and the dragonsmoke net burned him all over. He bellowed, hoping that this was a nightmare and he’d wake up. A tempest swirled in the room, an unnatural wind that ripped at the blinds and cast the dishes to the floor. It seemed to echo Thorolf’s anguish, and he wondered whether he had created it somehow.

  Niall could control the wind.

  Could he?

  Thorolf tried to feed the wind’s frenzy, tried to make it blow harder and colder. He tried to make it disperse the dragonsmoke, and, to his delight, it worked. He wished for sand in the wind and he laughed when Chen roared in pain beneath a volley of fine gravel. That roar broke the line of dragonsmoke and was the only opportunity Thorolf needed.

  He lunged through the remaining net of dragonsmoke, ignoring the way it scathed him. He pounded Chen in the face, jabbing his fist into that damaged eye. Chen roared in pain and thrashed his tail. One blow sent Thorolf sprawling into the far wall.

  He still couldn’t shift, and now he’d hit his head. He waited on the floor, feigning unconsciousness, waiting for his moment. Viv, incredibly, remained asleep. Chen bared his teeth and breathed dragonfire as he stalked closer.

  Suddenly he pounced.

  Thorolf lunged straight at his opponent and drove his head into the Slayer’s gut. He slammed a stool hard into the Slayer’s genitals. Chen choked. He staggered backward, his plume of dragonfire scorching the air. Thorolf kicked him in the face and tried again to shift shape.

  No luck.

  He glanced out the window and thought he saw a person dressed in black on the street below, looking up at his flat’s windows. The blinds were open and the dragonfire would make the fight clear to anyone who was looking.

  Thorolf saw the pale oval of the observer’s face and guessed that the thief he’d once let escape was still following him.

  Why?

  Then Chen’s plume of flames erupted behind him, turning the window into a mirror. Thorolf saw the reflection of a snake in the window glass, wide-awake and watching. There was a green viper coiled in the bed where Viv had been, its eyes sparkling like jewels. It opened its mouth and he saw its sharp fangs, the hungry flick of its tongue.

  “We had a deal,” the viper cried, and launched itself at Chen. Its fangs sank deeply into the Slayer’s hide, and Thorolf wondered what toxin was in its bite.

  Because Chen wavered, like a reflection on the surface of a lake, and abruptly disappeared.

  The flames vanished, as well, turning the window to an inky square of night once more.

  Thorolf spun in horror, fearing for Viv, but Chen really was gone. The flames were gone. The viper was gone. And Viv was reaching for him, concern in her expression.

  He was sweating.

  He was naked.

  He sank to the floor, trembling, feeling as though he was going to be sick.

  “Bad dream, baby?” Viv murmured, pulling him into her arms and kissing him gently. “You gotta take it easy with that firewater,” she teased gently, wiping the perspiration from his face. “That shit will kill you.”

  Thorolf looked at her, and she smiled. He exhaled shakily. It must have been a nightmare. He looked back out the window, but there was no sign of the thief.

  If that person had ever even been there.

  “You okay, baby?” Viv murmured. She kissed his cheek, her lips lingering against his skin. A glow lit her eyes as she smiled. “Don’t worry. I know how to make the bad dreams go away,” she whispered, rubbing herself against him. Thorolf grinned and caught her close.

  Just a dream.

  Nothing more than that.

  Thorolf just wasn’t as young as he used to be.

  Yeah. That was it. He carried Viv back to bed, and it was a long time before either of them tried to sleep again.

  Chen cursed as he was snatched from Bangkok and flung through time against his will. He was being hauled back to Hawai‘i, unable to resist the spell cast by the witch who carried Brandon’s child.

  At least he understood why Viv Jason hadn’t delivered Thorolf to him as agreed: she wanted him for herself. She was out of luck. Chen had already decided the Pyr would be his due.

  That bite of hers meant war.

  His blinded eye meant war, even if the Elixir would ultimately heal it.

  He’d take out Brandon’s mate and Brandon, then return for Viv and Thorolf.

  They’d all learn their lesson for daring to wrest control from him.

  On the beach on O‘ahu, Brandon was transfixed by the sight of Liz. She was radiant with the fire within her, so filled with power that she looked like she might explode into a flurry of sparks. Her eyes were lit with an inner flame and
there were sparks flying from her fingertips, as before. This time, though, her body was so bright with orange light that she could have been made of fire.

  She lifted their entwined hands and burned even brighter. He felt his dragon roar with pleasure and a spark shoot through his own body, electrifying him. She was his mate and he loved her.

  Then the lightning bolt hit, and his dragon bellowed.

  His dragon didn’t hesitate and it didn’t wait for Brandon’s agreement. The shift rocketed through Brandon’s body, compelling him to change forms. He beat his wings against the sky and raged in frustration. He tipped his head back and breathed fire at the sky.

  His dragon was in control again!

  He saw immediately that Liz thought he had shifted on purpose, as discussed. She didn’t realize that his dragon was ascendant again. His dragon shouldn’t have been in charge of his body, not when he stood so close to Liz, but he guessed that Chen had some other means on his side.

  He looked around and saw the twinkle of Dragon Bone Powder around the lip of the vial. His body was reacting to even that trace of the powder that buttressed Chen’s control over him. He felt an odd sensation on his chest, like a prickling, but when he looked down, he saw a red salamander running across the spiral in the sand.

  With a gold salamander fast behind him.

  It was Chen who had compelled him to change!

  Neither salamander had been there a moment before and Brandon knew it. He dove and snatched at the pair, seizing one in each claw, but Jorge slipped through his fingers. Chen shifted shape, becoming a young Chinese man in jeans and leather. There was a cut on his cheek, and he favored one leg. One of his eyes was a mess, too. The element of surprise was on Chen’s side, and Brandon’s grip faltered when he found this stranger in his grasp. The young man punched Brandon in the face, his lip curling as Chen’s had. Sure of his identity, Brandon breathed fire at him.

  Chen became a dragon with scales of lacquer red that were edged in gold. His eyes flashed and he leapt at Brandon, biting into his shoulder. Brandon struck him with his tail, digging his own claws into the wound on Chen’s face. Black Slayer blood fell, burning Brandon’s scales wherever it touched. Brandon grabbed the Slayer and shoved his head into the beach, compelling him to breathe sand.