Immortal Coil (A Dragon Spirit Novel, Book 1)

by Black, C. I.

  He really wished he had the time to wait for this body to connect to the earth’s magic. But that would cool any possible leads and continue to endanger Anaea. He wondered what magic he’d develop this time. More fire would be nice. He could practically feel it rolling over his tongue like it had in the old days.

  Which was neither here nor there. The odds of him getting fire were slim. The odds of finding two bodies in a row that could were practically impossible. There was no guarantee this form could even connect to the earth’s magic. Many dragons couldn’t.

  There was nothing he could do about that. All he could do was focus on making Anaea safe. First thing first. A change of appearance. There wasn’t a whole lot he could do in a short time save shave his head. He’d prefer a buzz cut, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. And hopefully a haircut would make him feel more like himself.

  After shaving his head, he dragged on a clean T-shirt and strode through the bedroom into the sitting room. Anaea sat on the couch watching the local news. She stared at him, her mouth drawn into a tight line, her disapproval palpable even from across the room.

  His heart flip-flopped. Damn it. It was his body now. He could cut his hair any way he liked.

  “I’m not into the solidarity thing. Now we won’t be able to stand beside each other in public for a good couple of weeks,” she said.

  “What?” Not the response he’d expected.

  “We’ll look like the Bobbsey Twins.” She ran a hand over her stubble. It seemed longer than before.

  Nah, he was imagining things. He was seeing her as he’d envisioned in her dream because that was what she wanted him to see.

  “Yours’ll grow back in no time.”

  She opened her mouth but closed it without speaking and turned back to the television. “There’s nothing in the news about...” She glanced back at him, her gaze sweeping over his body, sending heat washing through him. “Mark.”

  “There was a lot of blood. The police might be holding details from the press.”

  She swallowed. “He has—had a family.”

  “Everyone does.” This wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have. He didn’t know what to say and couldn’t begin to imagine how she felt to look at her friend and know he was dead. Hunter had never regretted taking a deceased human’s body before. But then, the last time he had, he’d known nothing about the man. “I need to go out for a bit.”

  She jerked up. “What for?”

  “To find out what’s going on. I’m tired of running.”

  “Well, so am I.”

  So brave, he could hug her. But dragons were dangerous and he didn’t know what he’d do if anything happened to her. Man, he really was in trouble. He’d fallen down the rabbit hole of inamoratas and didn’t want out. “This isn’t your fight.”

  “I beg to differ.”

  Okay. Fine. She had him there. If no one realized he’d switched bodies then they were still looking for her. And now she didn’t have rapid healing.

  “I’m just going to talk to a few drakes. Find out some information. That’s all.” But from her pursed lips he could tell she saw right through the lie.

  “I’m not going to sit here while you go out and fix everything.”

  “Of course you are.” Every cell in his stolen body screamed for him to do this for her, get his hands bloody so she wouldn’t have to. He wanted to give her everything, including every piece of sky he cherished.

  “No. I’m not.” She stood and strode to the door.

  “They’ll know you’re human.” He seized her arm and jerked her close. Her hands pressed against his chest, drawing an inferno within him. The odds were slim that any drakes would be able to tell the difference between a dragon and a mage. Only a lucky few could see the difference in their auras. But Hunter wasn’t going to tell Anaea that and wasn’t willing to take that risk. “I’ll not permit you to go.”

  Damn, he shouldn’t have said that, but now that he had, he didn’t want to take it back.

  “You’ll not permit?” She shoved him back. “Not permit? Been there, done that. No man tells me what to do any more.”

  “I’m not just any man.” A growl rumbled with him.

  “You’re acting like one.”

  The rumble grew and the room was washed in red. Mother of All. She really was a drake in spirit. “We can argue about this later. Besides, I’m not going to fix anything right now, just speak with a few younger drakes at Baltu. I want—” He sucked in a ragged breath. “I need you to stay here, safe, so I can focus on the hunt.”

  He grabbed his coat and stormed out the door. It was either that or take her there on the floor. When this was done he’d court her properly with shinies and meat and—

  Shit. Human women might like shiny things, but did they appreciate whole cows? He couldn’t just kill something, present it to her, and expect her to fall in love.

  He ground his teeth. He hadn’t integrated well into the human realm at all.

  * * *

  Anaea hugged herself, unable to tear her gaze from the door. It was her life, too. How dare he proclaim he would fix everything and she should just sit around and wait. She’d never sat around and waited for anyone. The fact that her life had somehow spiraled out of her control just made her want to do something even more.

  And now every time she looked at him she saw Mark. She supposed she saw more of Hunter now that he’d shaved his head. Mark’s head. She’d loved those curls. Every woman she knew was jealous of them. Now they were gone. Probably a mess on the floor for housekeeping to sweep up.

  Her eyes burned. That wasn’t fair. She knew Hunter better than that. He wouldn’t purposefully leave a mess for someone else to clean up. Their whole fight had been about that. The mess was his and he had to deal with it alone. The problem was that she knew everyone after him was also after her, since they’d have no way of knowing Hunter had changed bodies. Which meant, damn it, it was her problem, too, and she was going to do something about it. She could gather information just as well as Hunter could.

  Besides, she felt better, felt alive. It was a misconception, she knew that. Nothing could heal cancer. But she’d spent so long being weak and insignificant in her own life. She had to do something now. If Hunter had shown her anything in the last couple of days, it was that she, too, could face her death fighting.

  And damn it, bad idea or not—and she was sure going after Hunter to get information from other dragons was a bad idea—she wanted... no, needed to do this.

  Hunter had said he was going to talk to the younger drakes at Baltu. She had no idea what that meant, but Hunter did, and she could still feel the memories he’d infused into her brain hiding at the back of her consciousness.

  She concentrated on those memories. Images of a medieval battlefield filled her mind.

  Not what she wanted.

  She clamped down on the vision, drawing her sight back to black. She needed his modern memories. Something about Baltu. Perhaps concentrating on how their connection had felt when he’d been in her head would help her tap into something more recent.

  The sensual dream flashed to the forefront and her body heated. At least the memory was of this century. She reveled in it for just a moment, then clamped down on it. But the glow of Hunter’s presence wrapped around her and remained. It almost felt as if he was in her head again, a strong, sexy presence.

  Boy, she missed him. But that was just her fantasy imposed on the situation. Not anything true. Although maybe the memory of his presence would help her better connect with the thoughts he’d left behind.

  She focused on the desire he inspired, how he’d made her feel and how she wanted to continue feeling. What was Baltu? And why would he talk to dragons there? Who would he go to for information on their current situation?

  The image of a steel and glass high-rise flashed across her mind’s eye and information flooded her. Baltu. A private spa. A place where drakes likely wouldn’t recognize him and would gossip. He’d mentio
ned younger drakes, which made sense. Most wouldn’t have been at the pahar so they wouldn’t know Hunter had been in her.

  The address popped into her head along with the sense that it was hidden inside the building.

  What were the odds that Hunter would be pissed when she showed up? Too good to take that bet. But she needed to reclaim her life, stop being scared and reacting. She was tired of being a passenger. It was time, ready or not, for her to do something.

  CHAPTER 26

  Hunter’s taxi pulled up to the sleek glass high-rise at the corner of 5th and 6th Avenues. Barna, the doyen of the Major Brown Coterie, owned it along with large chunks of the city. It would have been nice if the easiest portal to Court had been someplace with more temperate weather. California would have been great. Australia, Bermuda. Any place that wasn’t freezing close to six months of the year. Even the climate in Bath, although less than fabulous, was still better.

  But Newgate was the most unstable place between dimensions, making it the easiest location to open a gate into Court, so this was where the majority of young and weaker drakes resided. And Barna, ever the entrepreneur, had established all manner of entertainment for his fellow dragons to squander their amassed fortunes—or, if they had been reborn, their coterie’s fortune, since a reborn drake’s hoard, if it was of any value, went to the coterie’s doyen.

  Baltu, for dragons only, was a preferred hangout for the younger dragons, regardless of coterie affiliation. To the average human observer the building was a regular office tower, but in the back and basement was a private spa.

  Hunter entered the lobby, while searching within himself for his body’s connection to the earth’s magic. In reality it was still too early, but it was worth a look. It would have been nice to arrive in the spa’s gateroom and not have to slink in like a weak, lesser drake. If they thought him too weak, they might not talk to him. Of course, if they thought he was too strong they wouldn’t talk to him either. It was always a balancing act with the young dragons, many of whom were young because of him. The other risk was the chance that whoever had killed Mark would recognize him, shaved head and all. But he’d already decided the risk was worth taking. If he found evidence that Zenobia was trying to kill him to get the medallion and making human mages to do it, he could focus on Anaea.

  The memory of his hands... her hands... on her naked body in the shower back in his suite at Court rushed through him, drawing heat. What a complete mess. He would fix this. It didn’t matter how impossible the odds, he owed it to her. Mother of All. He would fix this.

  He strode through the expansive lobby to the back and pressed his palm against the keyhole for the cargo elevator. A tingle swept up his arm as the magic guarding the spa recognized his dragon soul. The bell dinged and the doors slid open. He entered and waited. There was no need to press a button. He’d already indicated where he wanted to go by activating the magical lock.

  The doors closed and the one behind him opened. Beyond lay a modern reception area, all chrome and glass and white paneling, with soft lighting. Large plants clustered in a corner beside a small glass reception desk. Save for monitor, keyboard, and telephone, the desk was empty. A young female drake emerged from a doorway behind the desk, dressed all in black, her blond hair pulled back in a tight chignon. Minimalistic like the spa.

  “Afternoon.” She spared him a quick look then dropped her gaze before it could be interpreted as a challenge.

  “I’m here for lunch.” He presented his new credit card.

  She swiped it along the top of the keyboard and handed it back, still keeping her gaze lowered. “The lounge is to your right.” She indicated a pair of smoky-glass doors then retreated back through the doorway behind the desk.

  Here went a whole lot of nothing. He usually had stronger leads when chasing down a warrant. And he’d always known who he was after.

  He pulled open the door, squaring his unfamiliar shoulders. The lounge had a tent-like feel, in drastic contrast to the reception area and the building behind him. Miniature trees, large ferns, and planter boxes bursting with exotic yellow, red, and orange flowers made the room feel like a tropical summer garden, while gossamer silks were draped from the ceiling, creating the suggestion of privacy. It made it difficult to see everyone in the room, but it also made it difficult for everyone to see him.

  Please no one recognize his new body.

  White panels on the walls and ceiling, lit with a soft glow, created a sense of natural sunlight. Matching palm trees framed the entrance to the gateroom. A possible exit, if he somehow connected to the earth’s magic while here, but more likely a place for an attack. Most tables were booths with benches, ranging from two-seaters up to ten or more. There were about a hundred drakes in the room.

  A man in a nearby booth leaned forward, catching Hunter’s eye. Nero. Hunter inched back. The black drake would surely recognize him by his aura, but it was interesting that he was in Baltu. While not against a Traditionalist’s beliefs, it was still uncommon to see one here. Unless, of course, Hunter had been wrong about Zenobia. Why else would Nero be in the spa surrounded by young dragons?

  The person across from Nero, a man by the tenor of his voice, said something in Italian.

  Hunter swallowed a curse. It was no good eavesdropping on someone if he couldn’t understand the language. He should have brought Anaea with him. He bet she spoke Italian.

  No. Really bad idea. If Nero saw them together he’d know Hunter had body-shared and then it would be impossible to keep her hidden from Regis. It was almost impossible now, without anyone else knowing.

  Better to stay focused, pick up whatever gossip he could, and return to Anaea. They could come up with a plan together.

  Hunter turned his back to Nero, looking for someone to chat up. No one looked familiar. Good. That meant they didn’t hang out at Court and wouldn’t recognize his aura. Laughter at the back drew his attention, a mixture of male and female voices all nervously excited. Hunter rounded a topiary shaped like a dragon to find half a dozen drakes, two men, four women, in an enormous booth.

  “And I heard the great and mighty Hunter has been reduced to a woman,” the larger of the two men said. He was built like a linebacker with a swarthy complexion and dark hair. Not a threat. Or he wouldn’t have been if Hunter had been in his old body. Probably still not in this new one.

  The group tittered with laughter. Even the other man seemed to titter.

  Hunter snorted and the swarthy drake’s gaze jumped to Hunter, challenging for dominance. The man’s size made him an obvious choice as leader of the group. Hunter held his gaze long enough to make the drake ever-so-slightly uncertain of his position in the unspoken dragon hierarchy, but not enough for an outright challenge.

  “I heard he’s practically a skeleton,” a full-figured blond woman said.

  “And bald.” Hunter forced a smirk. It stung to make fun of Anaea’s ailment, but he had no choice. Her hair would grow back, she’d regain a healthy weight, and her beautiful soul would be matched by her magnificent body.

  The swarthy drake barked another laugh, sending the rest of the group into more giggles. Hunter laughed with them. It didn’t matter what they thought about the Prince’s Assassin, only that they trusted him enough to gossip. Besides, he didn’t have that much of an ego. Okay, who was he fooling? Ego was the only thing keeping him going these days.

  Except now he had Anaea and a new purpose.

  “I’m not sure I’d laugh so hard,” another muscular drake said as he approached. “Even as a woman Hunter still killed Welkin. And I heard he played with the idiot first and then lit him on fire. Not a pleasant way to die.”

  Hunter didn’t recognize this guy, either. Jeez, he’d really fallen out of touch with the younger generation.

  The swarthy drake frowned, but the others nodded, their expressions suddenly solemn.

  Great. How was he going to get them to talk now?

  * * *

  Anaea stood at the back of the
shiny office tower by the elevators with no idea how Hunter managed to get the damned thing to open. Somewhere, in the flashes of the murky memories he’d shoved into her head, she knew it would recognize her and let her in, yet no matter how many times she pressed her palm across the button nothing happened. If she didn’t do something soon, someone would notice. And getting noticed wasn’t on her list of things to accomplish.

  Just a few more moments and she was sure she’d figure it out. But if the building had security those moments could create trouble and anyone from Court would still recognize her as Hunter. She should have put on a disguise in the very least. But in her haste to take control of the remains of her life, she hadn’t thought of that. Twenty-twenty hindsight at its finest.

  She pressed the call button for the regular elevators.

  Then she remembered Grey. Last time she’d seen him was just before she’d gated away from Jade and the thugs. He probably thought Hunter was still in trouble.

  Damn, she should at least call him and tell him everything was all right... more or less.

  The door slid open and she pressed the first button she saw. Fifth floor. It was as good a choice as any.

  First problem first: getting into the spa. She’d give it another shot, and if she couldn’t figure out how to get in then she might as well leave. Then she could call Grey once she got back to the hotel.

  She thought back on the door to Hunter’s suite in the Dragon Court. Something magical had tingled up her arm and recognized Hunter, permitting her to enter. The door to the spa was probably something similar. Perhaps not attuned to a specific spirit, maybe just to dragons. And since she no longer had Hunter’s spirit in her, the door didn’t recognize her.