Hoarding Secrets

by C. I. Black

  The words rolled through his panicked thoughts, bleeding through the fear of being discovered and filling him with certainty. This was the way it was supposed to be. Anyone looking at Regis could guess he was soul sick and rumor at Court said that Constantine was missing, likely murdered. Someone sane had to be in control.

  The muscle in Servius’s arm quivered, reminding him he still had to knock and face Regis before he was ready to take the throne.

  If Regis even suspected anything, Odyne’s magic would be tearing into your soul already. Running would only give you away.

  He made himself knock before he could change his mind.

  Mother help me.

  A guard opened it, revealing Regis sitting in the Handmaiden’s chair at the bare room’s center.

  “Took you long enough,” Regis said, his voice low, dangerous. “I thought you’d gotten lost.”

  He knows. He has to know and he’s toying with me. “I was in prayer to the Mother when your page arrived.”

  Regis’s eyes narrowed. “Didn’t the messenger mention it was important?”

  The young dragon had, but confessing that endangered Servius’s plan, and taking the throne was everything. The page was just going to have to be sacrificed for the greater good. “I don’t think so.”

  “Send the hatchling to Odyne. Maybe that will help her remember.” Regis jerked his chin at a guard and the dragon rushed out of the room, leaving three others. Too many for Servius to fight if he was crazy enough to make a move on Regis right now, unless he wanted to reveal his sorcerer’s power.

  The prince’s gaze jumped back to Servius and for a second the look in his eyes wasn’t sane. Servius didn’t know how to explain it. It wasn’t that Regis’s expression had changed any, more that the sense of the soul staring back at him was suddenly feral.

  Regis blinked and the feralness vanished. “I need your connections.”

  “My connections?”

  “Yes. Those connections that knew Grey had gone to Seville.” Regis leaned back, making the wooden chair groan under his weight. “Who are they?”

  “Your Highness—” Panic squeezed Servius’s chest. He didn’t have connections and couldn’t give any names, but he couldn’t refuse Regis, not without risking his ire. Everything would fall apart if Servius was imprisoned. “We’ve been chatting recently— again— today. Perhaps I can help and you don’t need to wait on their summons.”

  “Have they been talking about Grey again?”

  “Grey?”

  “Yes. Grey. He’s after a rebirth coin.”

  Servius’s heart skipped a beat. “A rebirth coin?”

  “Bolo heard Grey and Ivy mention something about that before they gated away.” The hint of feral beast returned to Regis’s eyes. “Grey’s been keeping secrets. I didn’t know he could rapid free gate, but according to Bolo, he gated away before the hatchling could apprehend him in Seville.”

  “In Seville?” Servius asked, then realized all he was doing was repeating everything Regis said in the form of a question. “Was this near the ekas?” Shit, another question. “Like my contacts said?”

  “You mean the ekas that burst into flames? The royal property they destroyed?” Regis asked, his tone dark. “Bolo caught them running out of the building after they’d lit it up.”

  That meant Jet was wrong and Grey and Tobias’s agent were still alive.

  The panic in Servius’s chest squeezed tighter. Grey had known to go to the ekas. Servius had to assume, even if the chances were slim, Grey knew about the coins and was going to go after the pieces. Servius had to call Jet, get her to hurry up in Arrapha, and get to Vancouver in case that was where Grey went first.

  But that wasn’t the worst of it. Regis knew about the coin.

  “What do your contacts know about this coin?” Regis asked.

  “I’ll have to ask them. What does this rebirth coin do?”

  Regis glared at him. “My guess would be it casts a rebirth spell.”

  “Right, yes—” Crap. He needed to buy time, figure out what to do. “I meant, how does it work?”

  “I don’t know. And the drake who would know, Ivy, just received a permanent transfer request from the dugga himself.” Regis slammed his meaty fists against the chair’s arms. “I want to know how the hell the dugga learned that Ivy can read the memories from objects and rooms.”

  Maybe because you mentioned it? Servius bit the inside of his cheek before the words spilled out. Tobias’s agent was a dragon whose earth magic was reading the memories stored within objects and rooms. That explained how she’d known where Jet was in the Handmaiden’s residence. She’d used her magic and watched Jet hide. It wasn’t a surprise Regis wanted to keep her, and it was less of a surprise the dugga wanted her, too.

  “I’ll go talk to my contacts right now.” Servius dropped into a deep bow but stopped himself before getting up and leaving. He had to protect against the chance that Grey would get to the coin piece in Vancouver first. He couldn’t count on Grey going to Arrapha. “My contacts did mention they’d heard Grey was in Vancouver, Canada. At the museum that’s restoring the dragon statue from Chang’an.”

  “Vancouver, huh?” Regis flashed his teeth, all aggression with the feral monster flickering again in his gaze. He glanced at a guard. “Tell Bolo he gets one more chance.”

  * * *

  Grey checked the wide front steps of the museum, searching for Jet, as he and Ivy approached. Lights glittered on damp, empty concrete planter boxes and turned the large windows of the modern addition to the historical building into luminous eyes, allowing them to see all the people inside the front foyer, dressed in their finest for the early evening reception.

  “I don’t see Jet inside, but there are a lot of people here,” Ivy said, her voice low.

  He didn’t see Jet hanging around outside, either, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t there — the drake could camouflage herself and they wouldn’t know she was there until it was too late.

  “If our math is correct, she should still be hiking out of the gatelocked perimeter of the Arrapha temple,” Grey said, praying he was right as he shifted his knife’s shoulder holster, hidden by his suit jacket and tucked under his left arm. He’d liked the knife even less than the short sword he’d been forced to take to the Handmaiden’s secret residence, but any sword would be even harder to hide under his suit jacket than a knife, so a hunting knife it was. Thank the Mother, the museum was small and the security specks indicated it didn’t have metal detectors at the doors.

  A part of him squirmed with unease that they’d taken so long to rest and grab a quick meal. Even just a few hours could make the difference between getting this coin and not. But those few hours of rest could also make the difference between winning or losing a fight with Jet.

  Not to mention sharing his memory with Ivy, or maybe sealing their soul bond… or whatever had happened that had settled the writhing gloom within him. He’d felt the difference the moment he’d woken. At first, a flash of panic had raced through him. She wasn’t in bed or the room and that meant her aura had been out of range, but his memories hadn’t flooded around him. They were still there, pushing at the edge of his senses, but his magic had seemed content to just be, as if the Handmaiden had eased her soothing power into his mind.

  The panic had exploded into fear when he’d seen Diablo attack Ivy and she’d confronted him about knowing Nero’s plans for her. And he was drake enough to admit he was still confused about how lucky he’d gotten. Ivy didn’t want to return to Court, Nero had figured out how to get her away from Regis, and—

  And Mother of All, things might actually work out.

  He was afraid to let in too much hope, but it was hard to keep it back.

  He’d found his inamorata. Diablo wasn’t going to kill her, and Regis no longer had his talons in her. She’d even confirmed that the constant ache within her where her memories should have been was gone. The experiment had been a success. Neither of them knew
how long the effect would last, but that was okay. They’d get the coin piece, return to the hotel, and have the rest of eternity to figure everything out.

  “If we want a good cushion of time, we still need to be in and out of the restoration room in half an hour.” Ivy flashed her teeth at him, looking sexy as hell. He knew it was supposed to be a look of determination — there wasn’t any indication she meant the look otherwise — but he couldn’t help seeing a dragon’s challenge and sexual invitation.

  He flashed his teeth back at her, unable to keep the heat from his expression. “And we want a good cushion.”

  Her grip on his arm tightened and she shuddered, making his desire harden even more. “If we’re going to get through this, you need to stop looking at me like that.”

  He was tempted to ask, “Like what?” But she was right. It was hard enough for him to think past finding a nook and making her purr again, like she had in the shower and then again in the bed. Teasing her really only teased him, and they had a job to do. “In half an hour, we’ll be back at the hotel.”

  “And then I really hope you don’t like that suit because I’m ripping it off.”

  He fought back a groan. “Now who’s teasing?”

  “Sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize.” He squared his shoulders and they headed up the museum’s wide steps. “But I expect you to keep your promises.”

  “Don’t you worry about that.” A hint of a purr escaped her lips.

  He wrenched his attention away from her and scanned the foyer again, hoping it would drag his mind back to the job at hand.

  Still no sign of Jet. Also, thankfully, no sign of any other dragons. It would be a complete disaster if they came across someone who recognized Grey and knew Regis wanted to arrest him. Even worse was the weight and tingle of the gatelock spell embedded in the Chang’an dragon statue. The spell had shivered over Grey’s skin the moment the taxi had drawn within two blocks of the museum, and the feeling had continued to grow as they got closer. This was a powerful spell and fully in effect, not like the diminishing one on the ekas in Seville. If they got into any kind of trouble, there was no way he’d be able to summon a gate for them to escape. No matter how desperate he was.

  Of course, that meant no other dragon could surprise them or escape, either. Grey just didn’t know how much of an advantage that really was.

  He pulled open one of the heavy glass doors and let Ivy enter first. Inside, heat and the roar of many voices engulfed him. Somewhere, barely on the edge of his hearing, someone played classical music. The musicians, a string quartet, sat on a small stage on the far left, while waiters in their black and white uniforms wove with dancer-like precision between guests, their trays laden with hors d’oeuvres and champagne flutes, flashes of light among the black suits and gowns.

  To their right stood a makeshift coat check, and beyond that, behind free-standing white panels, was the caterer’s staging grounds.

  “You started the app on my phone?” he asked as they headed to the coat check. They’d decided he’d keep an eye on their surroundings while she kept an eye on the cameras, and had given her his phone along with a quick lesson on how to use it. She’d slid it into her purse — a medium sized black bag with a thin strap long enough to cross her chest — along with the gun she’d taken from Jet in the Handmaiden’s secret residence that had been reloaded thanks to Diablo and his delivery of clothes and supplies.

  “Yep, and I’m already running the program to hack the security feed.”

  “Good.” Diablo had said the program was created by Capri’s computer whiz Clean Team member, Gig, which meant it was fifty-fifty computer code and magic. It hacked a building’s security system and gained control, so they could put the video on a loop. Diablo claimed the best way to work the program was to change each camera to a loop as they approached it, but Grey and Ivy had agreed — after Diablo had left, of course — that they’d set all the cameras in the secure areas on loop and not worry about getting fancy.

  Ivy shrugged out of her borrowed coat and handed it to Grey. It was a rich wool with sleek lines that accentuated Ivy’s curves. It had been Raven’s — like the low-cut dress that showed off Ivy’s precious gold locket, with all her memories, and the heels — and unfortunately, the plan meant they were abandoning it here.

  A twinge of guilt tightened Grey’s throat. Raven had known what would happen to it, and she’d offered it anyway. All of Nero’s puzur had been like that. Sure, Grey had come with Anaea, who’d desperately needed training in her sorcerer abilities so she didn’t kill everyone around her, but they’d been just as welcoming to Grey, assuming he’d be around for meals, giving him a room so he could stay close to Anaea, sharing conversations and jokes and all the warmth he hadn’t had in almost two thousand years. His own coterie had never been that warm, even before he’d forged his friendship— no, his brotherhood with Hunter.

  Now here they were, sacrificing their clothes and possibly their safety for him and Ivy. Yes, Nero asking for Ivy to be transferred to the Asar Nergal was a brilliant move to get her out of Court, but too many moves like that and Regis would grow suspicious — if he wasn’t becoming suspicious already.

  When this was done, Grey was going to owe Nero and Raven and even Diablo more than he could repay. And he would happily try to pay the debt if it meant he could live worry-free with his inamorata.

  A ding from Ivy’s phone cut through his thoughts.

  “I should take this.” She stepped to the side and looked at the screen.

  Grey handed over their coats to the young man minding the coat check, took the offered ticket stubs, and drew up beside Ivy.

  “The app has control,” she said, her voice low.

  “Good.” He glanced at the white partitions where the caterers were working. At least half a dozen people stood at long tables, preparing food and opening champagne bottles, while a dozen more came and went, dropping off empty trays and dirty glasses and picking up new ones. No sign of Jet and, thankfully, no sign of any other dragon. “The first door to the secure areas is back there.”

  “But the other door is past that.” Ivy jerked her chin toward the other side of the room, past all the people where the closed main doors to the museum stood.

  They’d studied the blueprints of the museum and agreed the security door off the foyer was their first choice, while their second choice was the security door inside the museum proper. There was also another good access point at the back, where large museum pieces were loaded in and out, but that door didn’t have a keypad and required lockpicking skills.

  “How much do you want to bet the museum’s front doors are locked?” Ivy asked.

  “Not a bet I’m willing to take.” He’d never learned to pick a lock. Hunter had always been by his side in those infrequent moments when he’d needed to break and enter, and after that, his job with the Handmaiden hadn’t required much of anything—

  Although now that he thought about it, working for the Handmaiden had apparently required his God-damned inability to forget, since he was certain he was the only drake who’d have been able to figure out the Handmaiden’s clues to stopping Jet.

  “I guess it’s still plan A.” Meaning the first security door with its keypad lock. “And I hope your magic is fast enough that no one notices us standing by the security door.”

  Ivy frowned and chewed her bottom lip. “If we get a little closer— Maybe right beside those partitions there, I might be able to get the door to tell me its code.”

  “You can read an object’s memories from that far away?” The partition was easily a good seventy-five feet from the door.

  “The door is connected to the wall. I’m hoping I can send my magic through the wall to the door.” She met his gaze, her eyes filled with worry and hope and determination.

  Warmth swelled in his chest and lower. The urge to hold her, tell her she was amazing, convince her she would be— no, was a powerful drake filled him. He wanted to worship her
body and soul and, Mother of All, he had to keep her safe. Except nothing about this situation was safe. Even if Jet wasn’t there, there was still a chance she already had this coin piece, and with the coin joined with a medallion, no dragon soul was safe.

  He wrapped an arm around her back and drew her close, savoring her scent and the feel of her body pressed against his. “Give it a try.”

  Her breath feathered across his cheeks and the pulse at her throat sped up. “I need to touch the wall.”

  “Yeah.” He stepped them back, pressed her to the wall, and brushed his lips across hers. Just a whisper of a kiss, nothing more, or he’d lose what little control he had.

  Her eyes fluttered shut and she melted against him, a tension he hadn’t realized had been there seeping from her body. Then her aura pulsed, she opened her eyes, capturing his soul again, but her gaze focused inward. A line formed between her delicate brows and her lips pursed.

  Mother, to kiss those lips in full, feel her flesh slide against his and their auras crackling against each other, heightened with passion.

  A purr curled in his throat.

  He wrenched his attention from her and scanned the foyer. There’d be plenty of time to indulge later.

  Jeez, how had Hunter or Capri managed to keep themselves together once they’d realized they were inamorated? Being this close to Ivy— Heck, being anywhere near Ivy made it hard to think straight.

  Ivy gasped and tensed in his grip. With a growl, her aura pulsed again then pulled tighter to her body and dimmed. “I can’t believe I’ve got it, and with you standing right here.”

  “I can. You’re amazing.”

  “Yeah, well.” She kissed his cheek and slipped from his grip. “You’re biased.”

  “Guilty.” He entwined his fingers with hers and headed toward the partition, determined to look confident. “Hunter says if you look like you know what you’re doing, no one will stop you.” God, he hoped that was true.