Dragon Storm

by Katie MacAlister

  “That answers the question of what we should do, then, doesn’t it?” I asked him.

  “Yes.” He gave me a long look. “I just wanted to be sure you were happy with the decision, since you must break the curse.”

  I sensed the pain within him, dampening his fire until it was almost cold, and leaving him pale and drained of energy. I hated to see him like that, since he was so warm and vital, like a personification of his dragon fire. I wanted the feisty, sexy Constantine back, not the man who bore the guilt of a father’s sins.

  I leaned into him and bit his lower lip before sucking it into my mouth. There was a flash of surprise and pleasure in his eyes before I closed in for a kiss, my tongue demanding entrance, delighting in the spicy, sweet taste of him. He was like an intoxicating honey wine, going instantly to my head, and making the rest of me warm with anticipation.

  “Hoo boy, that’s what I’m talking about,” I heard Jim say. “Where’s my camera? He’s going to claim her right here in front of us.”

  “Golly,” Gary said, his voice filled with wonder. “I thought you were wrong before, Jim, but gracious me alive! That is quite the kiss, isn’t it?”

  “Jim! Get out of my purse. No, you may not use my cell phone. Drop it! Bad demon!”

  “Aw, Ash, you never let me have any phone. Just a couple of pictures. One or two for my Facebook page. Bet I’d get a ton of likes for it.”

  “No.”

  “I hope Constantine does claim Bee. That would mean I could stay with them both, rather than having to be just Connie’s sidekick. Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” Gary said. “But you know, it’s better to have a mom and dad rather than just one, although Connie does tend to hang out at some cool places that I don’t think Bee would like. But you have to take the good with the bad, right?”

  I managed to pull myself off Constantine, who had his hands on my hips, and was kissing me back for all he was worth. It took me a good minute or two to collect my scattered wits. Dear gods, the man had a mouth that could tempt a nun. But pull back I did, and as soon as I could speak, I turned a gimlet eye on Gary.

  “If you refer to me as your mom again, I’ll see to it that your RC car privileges are revoked for a week.”

  “Ouch,” Jim said.

  Gary’s eyes widened. “I was just trying to explain that I felt like we were a family.”

  “Uh huh. Don’t call me mom again.” I avoided looking at Constantine, and kept my gaze on Drake. “If you would be so kind as to find a talisman, we would be grateful. Just remember that it has to be something of personal importance to Bael.”

  “I will start immediately,” Drake said with a nod and got up from the table. “I’ll call for help from local green dragons.”

  “I think I’ll contact my mentor,” Aisling said, “and just warn her that her talents will be needed shortly.”

  “We are leaving,” Constantine said, his hand on my back. He tucked Gary under his arm, and gave me a little push toward the door. “We have much to do, and little time to do it in. Drake, do not dally raising sept members to help you. We must have the talisman before dawn.”

  “Why then?” I asked, allowing him to herd me toward the door.

  The look he gave me was enigmatic, which just irritated me. “It won’t take Bael long to find the sword, if he hasn’t already.”

  I waved at Aisling, who lifted a hand in response before Constantine hustled us out of the house. I waited until I was on the motorcycle, tucking my hair into the helmet to say, “You sound like you know where the sword is.”

  “I do.”

  He started the engine of the bike, making it difficult to hold a conversation, but that didn’t stop me from yelling in his ear, “You do not!”

  “I do,” he bellowed, and the bike lurched forward just as he added, “As do you.”

  I waited until we were stopped at a traffic light to speak again. “Are you crazy? I don’t know where the light sword is. I don’t have any idea where it could be, or Thala, or for that matter, Bael. I’m just a Charmer, Constantine, just a simple Charmer.”

  “You’re anything but simple,” came the muffled comment from the region around my stomach, where Gary was wedged between Constantine and me. “Don’t be afraid to blow your own horn, Bee. If you don’t do it, who will?”

  Constantine said something, but it was lost when the motorcycle bucked and we zoomed off into the night again. At first I thought he was returning us to his accommodations, but when he passed the street the brothel was on, and turned down a familiar block, I realized what he was doing.

  “How do you expect to get inside?” I asked some three minutes later when Constantine left his motorcycle in a small area containing trash bins, and walked us around the perimeter of the building that was Goety and Theurgy. “You know full well that the Venediger is likely to be angry with us, and probably all dragons. She won’t let us in. And speaking of that, why are we here?”

  We were about to round the corner of the building to the front when Constantine held out his hand and stopped me from proceeding forward. I peered around him and gasped silently at the sight of a handful of people guarding the front entrance.

  “Who are they?” I asked in a whisper.

  Constantine tipped his head back and sniffed a couple of times. “Demons.”

  “Hellbeans,” I swore.

  “Abaddonbeans, I think, would be more apropos,” Gary said softly, whistling as he did so. “Those are Asmodeus’s wrath demons. I recognize three of them.”

  “What are Asmodeus’s demons doing here?” I asked, obediently turning and following Constantine when he retraced our steps to the rear of the building. “They can’t get in, can they? I thought the Venediger had the building protected from demons unless they are summoned there.”

  Constantine slid me a look, stopping next to a window. Due to the light from the building next to us, half his face was in shadow, giving him a dangerous appearance that sent a little jolt of adrenaline through my body. What did I really know about him? my brain demanded to know. He was a dangerous being, a wyvern, a man who was used to fighting and killing for what he wanted. His eyes glowed with an inner light that, for a moment, had me fighting the urge to flee into the night, but then the smart part of my mind, the part that remembered how gentle he was with Gary kicked in, and I stood where I was.

  “You have answered your own question” was all he said before pulling off his jacket and shirt, and wrapping the latter around his hand.

  “He’s not going to do what I think he’s going to do, is he?” Gary asked, his voice high with excitement.

  I moved back a few feet. “I think he is. Close your eyes in case any shards go flying and crack the hamster ball.”

  “All right, but I don’t want to miss anything good. This is the most exciting thing I’ve seen since the behemoth ate my body!”

  The tinkle of glass that followed Constantine punching a hole in the window seemed inordinately loud to my ears, but there was no reaction to it from within. Judging by the placement of the window, I guessed that Constantine had chosen a small storeroom, a guess that was validated when he brushed off the glass, raised the broken window, and climbed inside before offering me his hand.

  “Keep quiet,” I told Gary when I gave Constantine the ball, then hoisted myself up and over the window into the room. The door to the room was closed, although large, bulky, black shapes could be made out from the light coming in through the alley. I caught my breath, standing still next to Constantine as we both listened intently. A distant rumble of voices warned that we were not alone in the building.

  Constantine waved at me in what I assumed was a silent warning to stay put. I made a face at his back when he opened the door and peered out into the lit hallway, moving up immediately behind him.

  “Hey!” Gary whispered loudly. I shushed him. “What about me? Don’t leave me behind.”

  “Keep quiet, then,” I said, and tucked him under my arm before hurrying o
ut of the door that Constantine had left barely open.

  Blood splattered the walls, dribbled on the floor, and even arced onto the ceiling. It was empty of people, however. I covered my mouth to keep an audible gag from being heard, as I tiptoed to where Constantine stood peering around a corner to a second hallway that crossed the first. It must have run parallel to the main body of the club, with a small garden space in the center.

  A long, gruesome smear of blood led to a closed door at the end of the hallway, the room that had held the Venediger’s safe.

  “I don’t think I want to know what’s in there,” I whispered to the back of Constantine’s head.

  “Stay back,” he growled softly.

  “No, sir. We’re safer with you.”

  “You are nothing of the sort, not so long as you bear the ring.”

  I curled my fingers into a fist and said nothing, but stuck close to the back of Constantine as he walked quietly down the hallway, avoiding the blood smears. He paused at the door, listened for a moment, then made an almost noiseless exclamation, and opened the door.

  There were four people in the room, two men, two women, and… I slapped a hand over my mouth to keep from screaming at the sight of the fifth person. It was Guillaume, clearly dead.

  “Don’t look,” Constantine said gruffly, standing in such a way as to block me from the rest of the room. “There is nothing we can do for him now.”

  “Poor Guillaume,” I whispered, and hoped fervently that he hadn’t suffered. He had been an officious little man, but certainly didn’t deserve to be killed.

  Of the other four people in the room, I only recognized one: the Venediger. She stood facing us, her expression as black as night, her fingers twitching as if she wanted to strangle someone. A woman with long blond hair and a man with shoulder-length dark hair stood facing the fourth person, the man clearly in a defensive pose.

  “Do you know these people?” I asked Constantine in a whisper.

  “Yes. They are Baltic and Ysolde.”

  So that was the Ysolde he kept talking about. I made a mental note to have a chat with her another time. Right now, it was the man they were facing who worried me most.

  As soon as I looked at him I felt as if I’d been punched in the gut. He wasn’t even looking our way; he had clearly been speaking to the Venediger, and didn’t bother to see who’d entered the room. He was a demon lord, that was clear enough from the blackish-blue aura that seemed to shimmer in and out of view, and there could only be one person who made Constantine’s fire suddenly roar to life with a vengeance.

  I touched the back of his shoulder, saying almost soundlessly, “Is that—”

  “Yes. Keep yourself to yourself,” he whispered back.

  The words sounded like rock grinding on rock, and for an instant, irritation flared to life within me. Keep myself to myself? What sort of chauvinistic, micro-managing sort of comment was that? And as soon as I found myself bristling with ire, I realized what he meant.

  We were in the presence of Bael, a demigod so ruthless, he thought nothing of destroying countless people, including Constantine’s own mother.

  I set Gary down on a chair and folded my right hand over the left, concealing the black ring from view.

  “I wondered when we would see you,” the dark-haired man said casually, giving Constantine a little nod. His gaze brushed over me without interest, paused at Gary for a few long seconds, then returned to Bael, who sat on the corner of the Venediger’s desk, casually fingering a dagger that had most likely been used as a letter opener.

  “What are you doing here?” Constantine asked, addressing Baltic. “He should never have let you come here, Ysolde. It is not safe in Paris.”

  Baltic gave a short, humorless bark of laughter at the same time Ysolde made a little face. “You know nothing of women if you think you can control their actions. My mate does as she wishes.”

  “That said, I sort of wish I wasn’t here right now,” Ysolde said, casting a pained glance at the body of Guillaume. She scooted closer to Baltic before turning her worried gaze back on Bael.

  The Venediger made an inarticulate noise, her face now red with fury. She snarled something very rude at Constantine, adding, “I should have known it would be folly to get involved with dragons. The blame for Guillaume’s death goes squarely on your shoulders, and for that, I will see to it that you never have another day’s peace so long as you live!”

  “That’s hardly fair,” Ysolde said, glancing at the Venediger. “Considering that Constantine and his friend weren’t even here when Bael forced his way in and slaughtered your secretary.” She shuddered, which caused Baltic to shift slightly so that he was more than half blocking her.

  “One moment,” Bael said, pulling out his cell phone when it burbled at him. “I have a text I must answer. Instructions regarding the princes of Abaddon, you understand. Feel free to talk amongst yourselves until I can once again give you my full attention.”

  “Talk amongst…” I shook my head and stopped speaking. It wouldn’t do to point out to a demon lord just how annoying he was.

  “None of this would have happened if that one had not attempted to Charm the curse.” The Venediger made an awkward, abrupt gesture toward us. I was filled with sympathy for her, and didn’t even dispute the unjust claim. She was no doubt grieving heavily for poor Guillaume.

  Slowly, with studied indifference that I didn’t for a moment buy, Bael looked up from his phone and turned his head to consider us. I took a long look at him, and immediately wished I hadn’t.

  He was of medium height, with pale blond hair and washed-out blue eyes. If you discounted the black aura of power surrounding him, he looked perfectly normal, even attractive, although I had heard that he could change his appearance at will.

  “Constantine,” he drawled, his face a mask devoid of emotion. Even his eyes were flat and uninterested. His gaze crawled over me for a few seconds, causing little bits of my soul to tear off with cries of anguish, and then suddenly I was free, and he had turned his attention back to Constantine. “So you have come crawling out of oblivion. You will not be surprised if I say that your presence is not needed or welcome.”

  I had my hand on Constantine’s back, and thus felt when he reeled backward into me, just as if he’d been dealt a physical blow. It took every ounce of restraint that I had to keep from yelling at Bael to leave his son alone, but the pressure of my fingers around the ring reminded me that in this situation, the lowest profile possible was going to be the best for all of us.

  “You know Constantine?” Ysolde asked, looking confused and suspicious at the same time. “What’s going on, Baltic? Why is Bael here?”

  “He is here for the light sword of Antonia von Endres,” the Venediger said, her voice choked and rough. Behind her, I could see the safe, its door blasted off the hinges. On the shelves I could make out a fertility statue, a cerise crystal, and the glint of silver metal.

  The sword! Of course, that’s why Constantine brought us here—he remembered seeing the sword in the safe and must have realized what it was.

  “How did you come by the sword?” Constantine asked, getting a nod of approval from me. I very much wanted to know the answer to that question, too. “It was stolen by Baltic’s guard, Thala.”

  “I would be a very poor mage if I left something so valuable as the light blade in the possession of a half-dragon,” she replied with a little scornful curl of her lip. “Naturally, I did what was necessary to find her and took the sword into my possession.”

  “Well, that solves one problem,” I murmured to Constantine. He gave a barely perceptible nod. “The big elephant in the room is how to keep Bael from taking the sword.”

  The Venediger must have had very good hearing, because she gave a disgusted snort, her gaze holding Bael’s (something that gave me the willies just thinking about it). “He is mistaken if he thinks there is any way I would give the sword up to him. All mages swear an oath to protect it with their l
ives, and I will use every ounce of my powers to ensure its safety.”

  Bael’s head snapped around to pierce her with his horrifying gaze. “If you desire it, then so shall it be.”

  The Venediger didn’t even have time to scream—one minute she was standing there, bristling with anger, and the next, there was nothing but a pile of ash and a few bits of tattered yellow material.

  “You monster!” I yelled, anger bursting to life within me. I had been sickened and saddened by the sight of Guillaume’s body, but to see a living, breathing human being suddenly and very literally turned to ash right before our eyes—my brain couldn’t cope with it. I started forward, no idea in my brain other than that I had to tell Bael what I thought of him, but I was stopped almost immediately.

  Constantine grabbed my arm in a grip that I feared would leave a bruise, and shoved me toward Baltic and Ysolde. “Stay with them,” he ordered, not taking his eyes off of Bael.

  “Oh?” Ysolde asked, her expression shifting momentarily from horror to speculation, but the hideousness of the moment quickly regained her attention.

  Baltic raised one eyebrow, gave me a long look, and then flickered a glance at Constantine.

  I desperately wanted to tell Constantine that we had to do something; we couldn’t allow the Venediger to be wiped out without so much as a second thought, but the weight of the ring on my finger reminded me that I had to think beyond my own desires.

  With my gaze on the ashy remains of the Venediger, I scooped up Gary and moved over to stand next to Ysolde.

  “You had no right to take her life,” Constantine said, his voice colder than the Arctic wind.

  Bael looked mildly bored. “She threatened me. You all witnessed that.”

  “She was defending herself,” Constantine snapped, his fire hot within us both. I swear his eyes were just about glowing. “You came here and slaughtered her minion, then stated your intention to take a relic important to mages, which you cannot even use. Of course she threatened you—anyone would, given that circumstance.”