Hoarding Secrets

by C. I. Black

  The woman blinked again, making the calm within Grey shudder as if her gaze was the link, the anchor, to his inner stillness.

  His focus sharpened even more. The cold bit his hands and cheeks with a gloriously crisp sting, the ice sculpture reflected the night sky, pinpricks of stars captured in a crystalline moment, and the drake under his arm trembled.

  Another blink, a mere few quick pounds of his heart between first capturing her and now, and the ferocity in her gaze bled into fear.

  His heart skipped a beat, and the clarity froze in horrific reality. She feared him.

  He jerked back. What the hell was he thinking? It didn’t matter that she could somehow strip his consuming memories with just her presence. He couldn’t keep her like the movies in his hoard. She was a drake. A living, breathing person. And one who belonged to the Royal Coterie. She was Tobias’s agent.

  Shit.

  Shit shit shit.

  “What are you doing here?” he growled, even though the logical explanation was that Tobias had sent her.

  “The chamberlain told me to follow up.” She wrenched around and faced him. A shiver shuddered through her, and she wrapped her arms tight across her chest. “But the door is locked so I’ll be on my way.”

  “Fine.” Common sense told him to step back, let her leave, but he couldn’t turn the thought into action and stayed, as frozen as the garden around them, too close, trapping her against the rock wall.

  Another shiver slid over her and the muscles in her jaw clenched. She didn’t want to be near him. She feared him. Why couldn’t he just step away?

  But he knew why. If she left, if she just stepped out of range, the gloom of too many memories would come flooding back. This calm, this crystalline clarity, would vanish, and the resonance of his soul, the core part of himself that he hadn’t realized had been off kilter, would return to its trembling uncertainty.

  “Tobias needs a report,” she said, her voice wavering and her breath trembling between them—

  With fear. Of him. Not anything else.

  “Right.” He wrenched back. Murky memory crackled at the edge of his vision, filled with ghostly screams and sobs. He forced himself still, fighting the urge to return to her aura of calm. She was Tobias’s agent. A member of the Royal Coterie.

  Jeez. For a drake who couldn’t forget, he was having a hard time keeping those details in mind.

  Something clicked.

  He ground his teeth, determined to stay in the present. She might be afraid of him, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t try to attack him again.

  Except another click came. She jumped and her attention jerked to the door as it opened. In present time.

  Someone was leaving the Handmaiden’s private residence, and while Grey could hope it was Hunter or the Handmaiden, he had a terrible suspicion it was whoever had ransacked the Handmaiden’s chamber at Court.

  Grey swept his sword toward the door and shifted his stance as Jet emerged, stepping into the entrance. A black drake in a lithe East Indian body dressed head to toe in black, she was the last person he would have expected to see caught up in dragon politics. She was young by Grey’s standards, only 450 years old — although much older than Tobias’s agent — and last time he’d checked, Jet had disavowed all things dragon. Of course, that had been before 1946 and Grey’s self-imposed exile from the human realm. A lot could have changed in those few years… a lot had changed within the last month.

  Jet’s large dark eyes widened for a heartbeat, the mere second it took for her to process that Grey had found her and was armed, then her hand on the door tightened and the other dropped to the hilt of the curved saber at her hip.

  Ivy squeaked, her reaction a split-second behind Jet’s, and Grey lunged forward, jabbing at the black drake’s chest.

  Jet yanked the door against Grey’s sword, parrying the strike, and he wedged his shoulder against the gray wood and stone frame before she could lock him out. Not that there was anywhere for Jet to go. There was only one entrance to the Handmaiden’s private residence, and with the magical gatelock on the area, Jet wouldn’t be able to free gate and escape. Except losing her now would make finding her in the maze inside the mountain that much more difficult. Not to mention, if he lost sight of her, she could use her earth magic to camouflage herself and be even harder to find.

  He shoved the door aside, keeping his gaze locked on her. Fog billowed at the edge of his vision, and he fought to stay in the present. She could still use her magic to hide, but if he could stay focused on her when it took effect, it would make it easier to see the telltale shimmer of her power enveloping her when she moved.

  With a growl, Jet drew her saber and slashed at Grey, the movement fluid from centuries of experience. About three hundred years ago, Jet had become a mercenary. Last he’d heard, she’d become a bounty hunter working solely in the human world.

  Grey parried her attack and sidestepped, sliding past the doorframe and fully entering the Handmaiden’s small fifteen-by-fifteen antechamber with its rack for coats, mat for boots, and eleventh-century settee for sitting.

  Jet swept forward with a wide strike to Grey’s ribs, an obvious attempt to force him another step from the door so she could make her escape. He stepped into the attack, catching her wrist- to-wrist, and shoved her to the settee. She leapt onto it then flipped sideways over the edge. She was fast and skilled, but he had size and strength on his side. If he was going to win, though, he had to use that. Now. Anything prolonged increased the risk she’d get in a lucky blow, and with his slow healing, he’d be dead. He had to finish her first.

  Except if he killed her, he wouldn’t know who had hired her or what she was trying to steal. And without a doubt, Jet wasn’t acting alone. There was no way she just happened to know about the Handmaiden’s private residence.

  He surged forward. If he wanted to subdue her, he needed to get hands on her and not let go.

  How the hell had he managed to get into this mess again?

  Jet swept her saber up. Grey slid his blade around and under her guard — a move better suited for a narrower sword, but he managed to make it work.

  She twisted, and his blade slid against her ribs. With a hiss, she jerked around him and lunged for the door, where Tobias’s agent stood. The young drake gasped and leapt back but wasn’t going to be fast enough to get out of Jet’s way.

  Jet’s saber slashed in a wicked arc toward Tobias’s agent.

  Grey’s heart skipped a beat, and he dove at them. His shoulder slammed into Jet’s back and he shoved her into the wall beside the door. She rammed her elbow into his ribs and knocked him back before he could gain his balance. Memory fog flooded his vision and he blinked, fighting to clear it.

  He jabbed where he’d last seen her, but her saber materialized out of the gloom, batted his sword to the side, and her foot slammed into his chest, knocking him into Tobias’s agent and in front of the exit. The fog vanished and the room snapped into crystal clarity. He could see every vein in the rock, the whorls of grain in the wooden coat rack, and the pills in the settee’s fabric, indicating use.

  Jet’s gaze jumped over his shoulder to Tobias’s agent. She flashed her teeth — a clear sign of aggression — and bolted across the antechamber. With a growl, she opened the ornamented glass and wrought iron door on the other side and raced into the maze of the Handmaiden’s residence.

  CHAPTER 10

  “Shit.” Grey raced after Jet, but the sudden distance from Tobias’s agent made memories shudder around him and blur his vision. He grabbed the knob of the ornamented glass door leading into the Handmaiden’s residence. Maybe Jet hadn’t had enough time to activate her earth magic and disappear.

  And maybe he was a crazy drake too deep into this mess.

  He wrenched the door open but didn’t rush through.

  The landing inside was empty. As expected. But no saber came slashing toward his head — which suggested the fight hadn’t been the complete disaster he’d thought it
had been and Jet was now wary of him.

  Beyond lay a great hall, the main floor one story down and filled with a twisting maze of eight-foot tall bookcases, creating passages, nooks, and dead ends. A few feet away on either side stood wide spiral wrought iron staircases, leading down to the hall and up to the third- and fourth-story balconies. Lined with shelves packed with more books and knickknacks, the balconies curled along the edge of the great hall on both sides and disappeared into the darkness at the back.

  “We have to catch up to her,” Tobias’s agent said.

  “She could be anywhere. She can camouflage herself.” Which meant all she had to do was wait for them to rush into the maze beyond then escape out the door. “We have to wait her out.”

  “You mean sit here and wait for her to try to get past us?” Her voice jumped in pitch.

  Guess she didn’t like the thought of waiting. Yeah, well, neither did he.

  “That could take forever,” she said.

  “Yep.” Grey studied shelves beside her, hoping for the telltale shimmer to give Jet away. If he trusted his memories not to overwhelm him, he’d summon his most recent memory of the Handmaiden’s residence and look for anything that wasn’t the same. His past experience with another drake who’d had camouflaging earth magic meant he knew it wasn’t exact. There’d be discrepancies that, if he had time to concentrate, he could pick out. And if he were Jet, he’d stick close to the door. Of course, not close enough to be accidentally spotted by a cursory glance, but, hey, he could hope.

  “I don’t have forever,” Tobias’s agent said.

  “No one says you have to stay.” Even though everything within him screamed she should. If she left, there was a risk his memories would overwhelm him and Jet would get by or kill him.

  And that was the only reason he wanted her to stay. Really.

  Her attention jumped to the door behind her.

  His heart skipped a beat.

  Because her leaving meant memory problems for him.

  Except that wasn’t the entire truth. Yes, her presence righted his equilibrium and swept away the fog, but there was something else about her, something he couldn’t explain but wanted to.

  He ground his teeth and wrenched his thoughts to the mess at hand. Find Jet. Capture her and figure out who the hell was making a play for the dragon throne this time — because without a doubt ransacking the Handmaiden’s chambers and invading her private residence was part of another drake’s ambition to endanger the lives of more dragons.

  Tobias’s agent swore and her gaze jumped back to the great hall. “If I leave, I have no idea how I’m going to explain this to Tobias.”

  “Say you lost her.”

  “He’d never believe me.”

  “He’s seen the great hall. He’d believe you.”

  Her expression darkened. “No, because I can tell you where she went.” She hissed a word, too quiet for Grey to make it out, and her aura flared, a brilliant green.

  The fog undulating at the edge of his vision vanished and the great hall snapped into sharp clarity, with no memories overlying his vision as if he were seeing the swirling wrought iron railing and the leather-bound books and everything else for the first time.

  Tobias’s agent’s gaze jerked up and she gasped. “Halfway up the steps.”

  The crystal-clear railing shimmered — light reflecting in water — and Jet materialized. She swung over the railing and hurtled toward him, her saber raised to take his head—

  No, the angle was wrong. She was after Tobias’s agent.

  Grey shoved Tobias’s agent aside and swept his short sword up to block Jet’s strike. The black drake’s blade slid off his, and she twisted, bringing her saber around with a quick counter. Grey yanked his blade down but knew if he didn’t jump out of the way, he wouldn’t be fast enough to avoid getting cut.

  He leapt back and Jet’s blade sliced a mere breath past him. She was quick with her agile and powerful body. And Grey wasn’t. He had strength and reach on her, but he couldn’t risk her getting in a strike he couldn’t quickly heal from. An aggressive, strong blitz attack was his best bet, except that technique was meant to kill, not capture. Shit.

  She lunged in again. Grey sidestepped, letting her blade skim his coat — thankfully not slicing skin — and captured her sword arm and sword against his body. She wrenched against his grip, but he held tight and snapped her elbow. She’d heal soon enough but hopefully the pain would be sufficient distraction for him to gain full control of the fight.

  With a howl, she reached into her black leather jacket, pulled out a modern handgun, like the ones carried by cops in the movies he had in his hoard, and shot him in the chest. Agony exploded through him, and fog flooded his vision. The bang roared around him, over and over again, caught in a sudden memory loop, and he fought to stay in the present. The next shot could be at his head, which would completely incapacitate him. He had to hold on, just a little bit longer.

  He tightened his grip on her broken arm and slammed his fist into her face. She jerked back, but couldn’t break free, and yanked the gun up to his face. He grabbed it. She heaved against his grip, but he twisted her hand and gun back, drawing another scream.

  The gun clattered to the floor, and Jet rammed her fist into the wound in his chest. Lightning shot through him and his knees buckled. His grip on her arm loosened and she broke free. With a roar, she swept around with a wicked kick toward his head. He fought to bring his short sword up, but he couldn’t concentrate past the agony and the inability to catch his breath.

  Another gunshot roared around him and Jet staggered, her foot sweeping an inch from his face. Another bang, and Jet jerked, blood spurting from her neck.

  Tobias’s agent stood by the steps, the gun gripped in shaking hands. “I don’t know if a bullet to the brain will kill a drake, but I’m willing to find out.”

  Jet growled and flashed her teeth.

  Tobias’s agent tensed and her hands stopped trembling, as if concentrating on the shot somehow gave her confidence. “I’ve shot twice and hit twice. Heart and neck. Wanna bet I won’t make the headshot?”

  Grey grabbed at the wall behind him to keep standing. He still held his sword, but all he could manage was to gasp for air. “We need her alive. Need—” Blood bubbled in his throat and he coughed.

  Tobias’s agent’s gaze jumped to him, and Jet lunged toward her. She leapt out of the way, hit the railing behind her, and fired again. The shot slammed into Jet’s shoulder. The black drake rammed into Tobias’s agent and shoved her over the railing. Tobias’s agent screamed and grabbed for the railing, dropping the gun to the great hall below.

  Grey jerked toward them, but Jet kicked him in the head, knocked him to the ground, then bolted out the door. The great hall spun around him and darkness swept over and through him. The Handmaiden’s musical laughter rang through the hall, followed by the roar of gunfire. All the while everything within him screamed to get up and help Tobias’s agent. Mother of All, he didn’t even know her name, but he couldn’t let her fall. He had no idea if she was a slow healer like he was, but the fall would likely break something and then they’d be stuck there until at least one of them was healed enough to drag the other back to the gate anchor outside.

  He fought to see past the darkness and the pain. Tobias’s agent clutched the railing, her eyes wide and locked on him. No, on the floor beside him and the growing pool of his blood.

  CHAPTER 11

  Ivy clutched the railing, her heart pounding. He wasn’t healing. Mother of All, he wasn’t healing! Except he was a drake. The magic in his soul had to be healing his human body. But the blood staining the front of his light gray coat and pooling around him just kept growing, oozing from the wound in his chest, while his back heaved with desperate gurgling gasps. The memory fire around him — still impossibly engulfing him and not just radiating from a few items on his person — flared, consuming his dragon aura, and if he didn’t impossibly glow like a miniature sun with
at least centuries worth of memories, she would have thought him human.

  He lifted his gaze to hers, his sharp blue eyes capturing her, and the fire around him snapped with a sudden, vicious flare, then dimmed.

  Her pulse stuttered. She hadn’t even read his memories — God, to read those memories, or even just feel the kiss of that fire again! But his fire shouldn’t have dimmed, not without activating her magic. It shouldn’t have—

  Her grip slipped. Icy panic swept through her and she scrambled to regain her hold on the railing, the instinct to avoid falling stronger than her faith in her soul’s magic to heal her.

  Grey lunged for her, reached through the wrought iron railing, and seized her wrist in a crushing grip. Memory fire licked over her skin and down her arm, drawing a shiver. His expression twisted with pain, but he hauled her up until her fingers were tight around the top bar and her feet were on the edge of the balcony.

  Panting, he released her, leaving her wrist cold, and clutched the railing as if that was the only thing holding him up. Blood shimmered over the entire front of his coat and oozed down his pant leg. Sweat beaded at his temples and his complexion was too pale, verging on an unhealthy gray. The fire of his memories shuddered around him but didn’t fully manifest as it had before, and his piercing gaze never left hers.

  Her pulse fluttered, but she couldn’t tell if it was from adrenaline from the fight, the almost-fall, or something else, something to do with this man who, even in agony, had saved her.

  “The fall wouldn’t have killed me,” she said, unable to tear her gaze from his, yearning for him to come closer and just let his fire brush against her.

  “Neither will the gunshot.” He frowned. “Unless you also plan on taking my head.”

  “Why would I do that?” Mother, why couldn’t she look away?

  “You work for Regis and I think I just made it onto his most wanted list.”

  “I work for Tobias.” But Regis had made it clear that he owned her and now wanted face-to-face reports. Would he ask her to kill the Handmaiden’s man? She doubted she’d be able to take Grey’s head unless he was as injured as he was now, and after her pathetic attack on him in the ice garden, she knew she didn’t have any fighting skills—