by Ophelia Bell
“I’ll appear as no more than a cloud if someone looks up. We’ll be well camouflaged in this weather.”
I couldn’t help but let out a yelp of surprised elation as his haunches bunched beneath him, and we hurtled up into the air. We climbed higher and higher, his wings flapping and the muscles of his shoulders flexing beneath my thighs. Sweet fuck, I was riding a dragon!
The higher we went, the more wispy clouds flowed past until the world was nothing but gray darkness. Every so often, he dropped beneath the cloud cover, and I caught a glimpse of the sprawling metropolis beneath us, with the Space Needle glowing in the misty night. Everything gradually faded into blackness as we continued past the edge of the Sound and out over the water. Then it was just the sparse lights of the islands.
“Which island?”
His voice thrummed through my head, and I stopped gawking at the view to focus. It had been more than twenty years since I’d been home. It felt strange to still think of the place that way, but I did. It was where some of my best memories lived, and it still belonged to me even though the side of the family who had originally owned it had seemingly fallen off the face of the planet. Memories of my mother were hazy, dream-like things, as if they belonged to another person who lived in an idyllic fantasy world.
My parents had met when Dad was in his early twenties. To hear him tell it, their relationship wasn’t much more than an extended one-night stand. An impulsive affair that ended as spontaneously as it had begun, but left behind a damaged man and daughter with an overdeveloped independent streak. We’d never heard from Mom or her family again. Then when I turned twenty-one, I received a call from an attorney who gave me the only confirmation I’d ever get that my mother had remembered me before she died.
The trust still sat untouched because accessing it would have felt like a betrayal of all that Dad had done for me growing up. The deed to the estate was shoved in the back of a box of files somewhere in my house. I never bothered visiting again. It wouldn’t feel right to go without Dad, and learning of Mom’s death had sent him into a bad enough spiral that I knew better than to risk a repeat.
But the place was so far in my past, I doubted anyone would connect it to me. Even the deed had the wrong name on it, though it was still me: “April St. George” was what it said, not April Vincent. I’d been given Mom’s family name when I was born, but Dad had it legally changed when I was ready to start school, so there would be no question that I was his daughter.
As for the estate, I had no idea what to expect. The paperwork I’d signed included monthly payments from the trust to a property management company for upkeep to ensure the place didn’t fall to pieces, so I pretty much avoided thinking about it.
But the most important detail was that Dad had explicitly told me to go there the last time I saw him, and I had no reason to doubt that it was the right call.
I barely remembered where it was, much less ever flown to it before, so it took a few minutes of hunting for visible landmarks before I grew frustrated. “I don’t know! It’s been too long.”
“Open your eyes, April. You have dragon blood, which leaves a mark you should be able to follow. Any location where you’ve spent time will be easy to find if you’re looking. If I were your mate, I’d be able to see it too, but right now, it’s mixed with all the other dragon trails up here.”
All the other dragon trails? How many was he talking? At his urging, I concentrated and shifted my vision the way I’d learned. I let out a gasp of awe when the night sky grew brilliant with a webwork of crisscrossing lines like colorful contrails of small jets had been flying over these waters all night.
“How many dragons are there out tonight?”
“These aren’t all from one night. The trails linger for months for others to see, but your own should be visible to you indefinitely. Find your path.”
I wasn’t sure where to start, but as we flew on, one brighter trail stood out with more solidity than the others. While most of them faded in and out, this one remained a steady, pale green.
“That green one, do you see it?”
“Yes. I’ve got it.” Gray banked slightly, changing his heading so he was aimed on the exact path the trail led us.
What would normally have been a long boat ride turned into less than an hour in the air. My heartbeat sped up when dawn began to break, turning the darkness into gray light. Gray’s big body tilted lower, and a long dock came into view with a row of lights atop tall poles along one side. Then the boathouse and the trees beyond. Only the gray peaks of the main house were visible through the foliage of trees.
“There’s no one here. I’m going to land on the dock.”
His feet clattered against the weathered wooden planks before he came to rest, folding his wings against his sides. I slid off, and he shifted back into the tall, gorgeous man whose appearance in the gallery the day before was definitely starting to feel like destiny.
With a breath, he clothed himself, then shot a wary look up in the direction of the house.
“What is it?”
“This place is too well-groomed to be abandoned, yet there’s no one here.”
“You can tell from this far?”
“Auras are visible at a distance and through walls. I don’t trust how empty this place is.”
I rested a hand on his arm, sliding it down to squeeze his hand. “It’s okay. The estate doesn’t have a live-in staff. Just a maintenance staff who comes once a week.”
“You keep paying them even though you don’t live here?” He gave me a surprised look, though some of his tension eased.
“I don’t pay them. There’s a trust that maintains the grounds. My mother’s side of the family was rich and left enough to take care of the place.”
Gray’s brows lifted. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you really were a dragon.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’d know if that was true,” I said and tugged him up the dock toward the stone steps that led up the hill into the trees. After few more steps up a flagstone path, the house came into view farther up the hill. A swath of glass windows stretched across the landscape, reflecting the gray light that was building on the horizon across the Sound. Nervous energy built in my belly at the old memories that rose unbidden. For the first time in more than a decade, I could picture my mother’s face, the image accompanied by the most acute sense of bittersweet longing.
We reached the terraced flagstone patio that skirted the house, and I followed it around to the front entrance. The sturdy wooden door rested in a recess flanked by lush beds filled with green plants that were just beginning to flower. Standing up on my toes, I fished the spare key out from behind the still-lit porch light. I unlocked the door and led Gray inside, inhaling the familiar scent of the pungent cleaning products the housekeepers used.
“This feels like a dragon’s home, even though the only energy I sense here is yours. You’re certain you or your dad can’t be linked to it in human records, right?”
I shrugged out of the coat Gray had magicked up for me and hung it on a peg inside the door, followed by the scarf and hat.
“The Vincents—Dad’s family, that is—aren’t tied to it at all. I guess I straddle both sides since I’m a Vincent on paper but a St. George by blood.” I swept my arms around the whitewashed foyer with its indigenous artwork hanging on the walls, mentally fighting back the encroaching ghosts that bombarded me with memories. “I’m the last living member of the St. George bloodline, so it’s all mine.”
Saying the words out loud helped dissolve some of the conflicting emotions. After Dad had moved us back to the city, I’d pestered him regularly, asking when we would go home. He’d eventually gotten frustrated and yelled at me that it wasn’t ours, and would never be ours again. Yet here I was, reclaiming my heritage, though I found it nearly impossible to venture farther in beyond the foyer.
I gritted my teeth and peered into the pale dawn light coming through the windows that overlooked the Sound. The fo
rmal living room ahead of us was still fully furnished, but everything in it was draped in white sheets, as was all the furniture in the large study just off the foyer. I expected all the rooms in the big house would look the same, and I wasn’t quite ready to blast through staking a claim on the place if it was only a temporary refuge. It was mine, but it felt strange coming back here without Dad, as if it wouldn’t feel right to reclaim it without his blessing.
Gray stepped close and took my hand, squeezing gently. “I just want to make sure you’re safe, and it sounds like this is as safe a place as any for the moment. Do we have a phone here? I’d like to make a couple calls if it’s okay.”
I grimaced. “I should too. The gallery manager is going to freak out if she takes a peek in the studio. And Renee and Josh…shit.”
“You should avoid contact,” Gray said. “I know it’ll look bad, but your safety is more important right now. I’ll find a way to get them a message that doesn’t involve calling them and potentially giving away our location, okay? Do any of them know this place is yours?”
I shook my head, but any other response I might have had faded from my mind, replaced by a buzz of panic that rose up over the realization that my show was pretty much tanked. Even if this craziness blew over in a couple days, all my progress from the last day had shattered. Even the base of my sculpture had been twisted into a contorted mess. There was no catching up.
“April?”
Gray’s voice broke through my thoughts, his warm hand a comforting sensation against my cheek. “My show is pretty much screwed.” My voice sounded far more reasonable than I felt, but the concerned look in his eyes made my lip start to quiver, and before I knew it, the tears were falling. I fell into his arms, sobbing as the crazy events of the past day all caught up with me.
9
Tate
The remnants of a late snow crunched under three pairs of booted feet as Eddie, Chayton, and I made our way along the shores of the small mountain lake. Dawn broke over the Rocky Mountains to the east, turning the light in the forest pink. Budding trees lined our path, and scattered wildflowers worked their way out of the snow, growing more plentiful the closer we got to our destination. Gaia’s magic was always stronger this close to a Sanctuary portal.
It was the perfect morning for a homecoming, but my insides were a mess of uncertainty. None of us had been home to the Sanctuary since the end of the war. The place had been too filled with bad memories to stay, but we had no other choice left if we wanted a mate the three of us could share. We had to try.
“The stones are up ahead.” Chayton tilted his bearded chin and sped up his pace. I peered through the pines, spying the nondescript formation that made up the Sanctuary’s Southwestern portal. It had been a full day’s drive from Malibu, followed by half a day of hiking to find the tiny Bear Lake in the middle of the wilderness outside Taos, New Mexico, but we were finally here. Yet despite being this close to returning to my birthplace after so long, the dread in my belly only got worse.
A warning roar echoed through the valley just as we drew close to the stones, and a huge brown bear loped through the trees toward us. He was unfamiliar, so I stopped, adopting an open stance but watching warily as the portal guardian closed the distance. About six feet from us, he shifted, his bulky, fur-covered shape elongating as he stood to his full height, the heavy limbs and belly smoothing and hardening into a tall man with smooth, light brown skin and long black hair. Chayton broke into a delighted laugh and stepped forward, hand outstretched.
“Elden!”
The man’s all-business expression turned to pleased surprise, and he met Chayton, grabbed his hand, then pulled my friend into a full-body embrace.
“I wondered if that was you,” Elden said, scanning Eddie and me when he stepped back. His smile disappeared, and he took a long breath, propping his hands on his naked hips. “I’ve been sent with a message.”
“From the Sanctuary?” I asked, irrationally hoping that the Sundance clan leader had miraculously caught wind of our trip and sent back an assignment to remain out here.
“No. And this portal is closed until Midsummer. Ever since the war ended, the only entry into the Sanctuary between Solstice and Equinox is the Stonetree portal in North Carolina, so I’d have to turn you away anyway. But the message was sent from someone named Leonardo, by way of turul messenger. Follow me, and you can speak to the messenger directly.”
“Leonardo…” Eddie said, glancing at me with a perplexed expression. We didn’t know anyone named Leonardo. But then it clicked, and my heart leaped into my throat.
“It has to be from Gray. He’s the one who studied alongside da Vinci, remember?”
Eddie’s expression wavered between concern and cautious optimism. “Gray sent a message? Why the hell would he do that?”
I had the same question. When the six of us parted, the three dragons all headed in different directions, and I’d been positive our paths wouldn’t cross again for a while. But if he was reaching out only a few days later, something wasn’t right. I probably shouldn’t have been excited—chances were this turul messenger didn’t have good news—but if it gave us an excuse to put off this trip, I’d take it.
Elden’s bare feet crunched over the thin layer of snow until we reached a small adobe hut hidden within a grove of birch trees not far from the stone circle. Smoke curled up from a chimney that jutted out from the mud wall, and the scent of fresh stew wafted out, making my stomach rumble.
The inside of the guardian’s hut was barely big enough for the three of us, plus a wiry turul man in a linen robe who stood from his seat by the window when we entered.
“You have a message?” I asked, not bothering with introductions.
The man gave a grave nod. “I’m to speak with Tate, Eddie, or Chayton. No one else.”
“That’s us. What’s the message?” Eddie said, leaning on the table so he was at eye level with the smaller man. The messenger shot a look toward Elden, who’d paused to stir a pot on the little potbelly stove. Elden caught his silent message and nodded, then disappeared back out the door, shutting it behind him.
“You’re needed in the Pacific Northwest. Your friend has found a powerful convergence of earth and fire, but Chaos seeks to steal it. He requests your help defending this convergence, and says if the six of you succeed, it could become your new home.”
I frowned. “Is that some kind of code?”
The turul shrugged. “That’s for you to decide. I’m only the messenger. I delivered the message exactly as it was given to me and two other messengers sent to find your other friends. But I didn’t speak directly with the person who wrote it. It was sent via Magnus to avoid being traced. Wherever he or she is, they need it kept a secret. The only other information I have is coordinates.” He held out a small wooden tube, which Eddie snatched and opened up, pulling out a scroll of paper and unrolling it. I peered over his shoulder at the small printed map he held.
“It’s north of Seattle. We should go right away,” I said.
Eddie shook his head. “We should get back to the nearest city and call Kol Magnus first. If he was Gray’s first contact, Stuart and Murdoc are likely to head to him too.”
Chayton crossed his arms. “Perhaps we should speak to Chaos first? See if we can find out what he wants with this…convergence. More information is always better.”
The turul raised his hands. “Ball’s in your court, guys. I need to fly. Good luck.”
He shed his robe, then headed out the door naked without a look back, shifting into a large falcon and flying away before the door closed behind him. We were left debating the meaning of the message and our best course of action.
I was all for leaving right away and driving straight through to Seattle. If Gray went to the trouble of summoning us, there was no time to waste, and if there were two other messengers, Stuart and Murdoc had likely received the same message already.
Eddie and Chayton had different ideas, which we circled ar
ound and around, barely noticing when Elden returned and shoved steaming bowls of delicious stew in our faces along with slabs of flatbread.
With the turul gone, we had no issue discussing the message in front of Elden. Ursa portal guardians were chosen for their loyalty to our race and would never betray something told in confidence. He listened in silence for a few minutes while he ate, then shoved his empty bowl to the center of the table and leaned in.
“It’s a woman,” he said.
All three of us stopped eating to stare at him. He sat back, looking around the table at us.
“What makes you say that?” I asked.
“The three of you need a mate. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be ending your pilgrimage to head home. How long has it been, Chay? Ten years now? Except for the war, you’ve avoided returning. You and those three dragons had something good. You’re close. Close enough that Gray knows how important finding the right mate is to a trio of bonded ursa males. He wouldn’t pull you away from that path if he didn’t believe he had an answer to that problem.”
“How in the world did you deduce woman out of that message?” Chayton asked, incredulous.
Elden shrugged. “It’s the simplest answer. A convergence of earth and fire… She’s probably Bloodline and has a mix of higher races blood. Ursa and dragon. Earth and fire. Sounds like the perfect woman for you guys.”
He cleared our empty bowls without another word, leaving us staring at each other as the suggestion sank in. But he was right. Gray wouldn’t pull us away from the possibility of finding a mate unless he had a better option. And if that option was at risk of being taken by Chaos, no matter the reason, he would need our help to protect her.
“We’re going straight to Seattle,” Chayton said. “Fuck Chaos.”
10
April
By an amazing stroke of luck, the place had power and a landline. Once I got over myself enough to venture as far as the kitchen, we found not only a full pantry, but a fridge stocked with bottled water, beer, and wine, along with an enormous chest freezer filled with food. The full pantry was odd, but welcome enough that I chose not to spend energy wondering why. It was going to take enough work for me to ignore the memories that flitted from every shadow. In an effort to do just that, I took the initiative and volunteered to cook us a meal while Gray made a few calls.
