Immortal Coil (A Dragon Spirit Novel, Book 1)

by Black, C. I.

  Grey shoved Hunter back and sunk low into a fighting stance. “You and I both know you killed her the moment you transferred into her body. The only way to prevent being reborn is if she’s dead.”

  Hunter hissed and bared his teeth, but didn’t attack. Emotions flashed through her. Regret and fear.

  “Say I’m wrong.”

  Need. Desperation. Yearning.

  “Say it.”

  Resignation.

  He knew what Grey said was true.

  “You can’t say it ‘cause you know I’m right.”

  “I’ll find a way,” Hunter said, his voice low.

  Hunter’s emotions quieted. Only a hint of his presence simmered within her.

  “If you hide her, he’ll find her. If you let her go, he’ll find her.” Grey inched closer to Hunter, reaching a hand out to his friend. “The only kindness you can offer her is how she dies. Your hand would be the gentlest.”

  Hunter wrenched away from Grey. “We are not having this conversation.”

  “Yes, we are. If not now then with certainty later.”

  “Grey, I can’t.” Hunter’s voice hitched in his throat and Anaea’s stomach churned. Grey was right and Hunter knew it.

  “Yes, you can.”

  Hunter shook his head. He couldn’t and Grey couldn’t see it. She wasn’t ready to die again either, but she couldn’t bear to know the truth and feel Hunter’s grief. She would not be responsible for his death.

  * * *

  Like a coward, Hunter had Grey gate him to the edge of Nero’s estate while Anaea was in the shower. He’d wanted to say goodbye, join her in the shower with long kisses and a whole lot more, and forget about the truth Grey wanted him to acknowledge. But that would lead to another glorious round of lovemaking and delay his departure... by a lot.

  That and if Anaea knew what he planned they’d argue. And rightly so. She had the right to determine her life. To having a life in the first place. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t fix this. He had to fix this.

  He sucked in a steadying breath.

  Getting killed wouldn’t help her. He needed to focus for the next forty-five minutes until Grey returned to gate him back to her.

  He shifted the asru bead in his boot to the toe and continued heading to Nero’s mansion. While he didn’t anticipate Grey would need to use the mini-anchor enspelled into the bead to find him, nothing about the last couple of days had gone as anticipated. And he wasn’t going to take any more risks than necessary. Nero’s estate sat in the middle of a hundred acres of forest and farmland northeast of Newgate, containing a sprawling house built by Nero in the mid-eighteen hundreds when it was discovered that the main gate into Court was in the area.

  Hunter wasn’t sure what he was looking for but rummaging through Nero’s office seemed like the place to start. What Anaea had overheard at the spa could have referred to anything, but it was the best he had. If he didn’t have her to worry about, he’d probably walk up to the front door and start asking questions, with a liberal dose of violence to encourage looser lips. But he did have Anaea and if something happened it would be up to Grey to protect her—regardless of the fact that Grey knew her existence meant trouble. He was sure Grey would keep her safe, but he didn’t want to burden either of them with that.

  Besides, it always helped to be armed to the teeth when bashing down someone’s door and Hunter hadn’t had the time, nor the access, to obtain his full supply of weapons. All he had was the long sword and hunting knife Grey had brought him. So with stealth being his only available option, he’d just have to pray something conveniently, and quickly, showed up.

  Mother of All, he just wanted to get back to the hotel and wrap himself in Anaea and everything she was. His insides twitched with the effort to concentrate on the task at hand instead of running back to her.

  Soon. Soon. He’d figure out how to keep her safe from Regis and... No. They would figure it out. Together. He owed her at least that much.

  He inched to the edge of the tree line and scanned the vast, empty lawn leading up a slope to a sprawling patio complete with pool and hot tub and beyond that a massive, three-story manor house. Floor-to-ceiling windows on this side of the building revealed a sunroom with white wicker furniture. So far he hadn’t noticed much of a security system, but with the ground open to wildlife big and small, it was probably a hassle to have much of anything. The mansion, however, was likely a different story. Nero was a smart drake and without a doubt had the best technology could offer.

  Which meant even if Hunter bypassed the systems he found, there were probably more lurking in the background. Bashing down the door, even without all of his weapons, was looking more and more appealing by the minute. He couldn’t believe he’d rushed off without a plan, or research, or anything. He knew better.

  Well, shit. He’d have to consider tonight research. Do a little skulking around, try to determine the layout of the mansion, pinpoint some of the security systems. He didn’t really want to have to come back, but he didn’t see any other option.

  He inched along the tree line to a side of the mansion with fewer windows, and dashed across the lawn. Pressing his body to the rough brick, he held his breath, listening for any indication that someone had seen him.

  Everything remained quiet.

  Good.

  He glanced in the closest window. A boardroom, by the looks of it. In the center sat a large table, surrounded by chairs. A whiteboard hung against one wall and opposite it, floor-to-ceiling bookcases crammed with thick, hard-covered books. It looked like a boardroom, which didn’t fit at all with what he knew about Nero. Most of the drake’s business was overseas in Rome—established before Columbus and all that—and from everything Hunter had heard Nero kept his business life and personal life separate.

  A chatter of voices rose on the sunroom side of the house and Hunter peered around the corner of the building. About a dozen people had poured out onto the patio, talking ad laughing. Their auras flickered in and out of focus.

  Good news at last. His new body was starting to connect to the earth’s magic already. Although some of the auras didn’t look right. But that could be the tentativeness of his connection.

  The young dragon he’d seen with Nero at the feast made her way to the front of the group and led them onto the lawn. Her hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, the ends brushing her waist. She called two youths forward. Both of them had those strange auras. The first, a girl of about eighteen, raised her hand and a ball of light formed in front of her.

  The woman nodded and the ball shot across the lawn. The second youth, a lanky teen, dropped to his knees and pressed both hands to the ground. Clumps of sod rocketed from the lawn, inches from the light as if trying to hit it. The ball danced and the geysers of dirt blasted faster and faster.

  If Hunter didn’t know any better, he’d say he was watching earth magic training. But drakes didn’t teach other drakes. It could mean loss of power within the coterie and Court if the student surpassed the teacher. And there was something really wrong with the auras of the two students. That and their bodies seemed awfully young. Usually the Handmaiden preferred to rebirth into fully grown humans.

  Ponytail Woman’s aura, however, was strong, radiating wide and dark, promising powerful earth magic.

  Another woman, probably in her mid-thirties, with wild red hair, took the place of the boy, and the ball of light stilled, waiting to resume the exercise. The redhead’s aura was like Ponytail Woman’s. But most in the group had the strange wavering auras and seemed too young.

  Hunter’s stomach churned. His aura sight wasn’t screwed up. He’d gained a rare gift when he took Mark’s body. He could see the aura differences between human mages and drakes, something only one percent of dragons could do. Nero was training mages. Depending on how many he had, he could try to take the throne. All he really needed was to kill Hunter and take the medallion.

  Regis needed to be warned.

&
nbsp; Hunter inched back from the patio, but a man in the back of the group spun around and stared at him. Damn, he had to have enhanced hearing.

  Ponytail Woman yelled something he couldn’t quite decipher. The ball of light shot toward him, drawing the gazes of the rest of the group.

  Oh, shit.

  CHAPTER 31

  Anaea fought the urge to squirm in her seat as she sat in one of the stiff wing-backed chairs. She knew what she had to do, knew the only way Hunter would be safe was if she was out of the picture.

  It was so cruel. The moment she realized she wanted every minute, every second allowed her, was the moment she had to give it all up. Her presence endangered Hunter. If anyone caught a glimpse of her, anywhere, they’d rebirth him, and from his infusion of memories she knew without a doubt that the spell would strip him of everything that made him who he was. She would not allow herself to be responsible for that.

  Perhaps it was a good thing. They’d had an amazing night—if not a couple of troubled days. If they spent the next few months together it would be so much harder to say goodbye. And she’d still be forced to say goodbye in the end.

  “Movie not doing it for you?” Grey slid a sideways glance in her direction.

  “No— I mean—” She didn’t care what they watched, although Grey seemed particularly excited about watching anything, so long as it was a movie, and he no longer seemed so uncomfortable. No, she couldn’t just sit there anymore. Not when she knew what needed to be done. If she did it now, would Grey stop her?

  Probably. Hunter had told him to keep an eye on her and Grey struck her as a friend so loyal he’d go against his better judgment to keep his word. “I’m just a little hungry.”

  “Oh, right. Movies need food.” He leapt over the back of the couch and grabbed the phone off the desk. “Good call. What do you want?”

  She shrugged. “Whatever.” She needed to do it now before she lost her nerve, and that meant getting away from Grey long enough to do it. Pills weren’t an option. She didn’t have any. Neither was jumping out a window. The ones in the suite didn’t open.

  She eyed Grey’s sword, leaning against the side of the couch. Too awkward.

  That left her with Hunter’s razor in the bathroom.

  Grey’s expression softened and she felt like she was suddenly on display.

  She prayed he wouldn’t figure out what she was planning. “I’ll think of something,” he said.

  She offered a weak smile and turned back to the television, watching Danny Kaye switch from fool to suave lover with the snap of Angela Lansbury’s fingers. Now she knew what Hunter had meant when he said Gray called the Dragon King’s jester Giacomo. The king of jesters and the jester of kings. And like the Court in the movie, Hunter’s Court was filled with dangers for the unwary. She needed to get up, excuse herself, and do it. But against all desire, she didn’t move.

  Come on, she could do this. Hunter needed this sacrifice. And really, she’d pretty much already made the choice when she’d stood on the Queen Street Bridge—it had just been delayed.

  Grey said something into the receiver and she dragged her attention from the Technicolor images.

  “I told them to send up their two most popular dinners and desserts.” Grey flopped back onto the sofa.

  “Thanks. Why don’t I get some ice.” Maybe if she got up for a different reason she could force herself into the bathroom.

  Grey hopped back up. “No. You just sit there. I don’t want Hunter thinking I didn’t treat you right.”

  She swallowed hard. “Why, thank you, sir,” she said in a weak imitation of a Southern belle.

  “Anything for a pretty lady.” He left with the ice bucket.

  She ground her teeth. Come on. Do it. It had to be done. For Hunter.

  His presence glowed within her. Everything that he was would be lost if he was reborn. She was on death’s door anyway. Life had proven she really was worthy of love and as much as she wanted more, she just wasn’t going to get it.

  I love you.

  His presence pulsed.

  She clutched the reaction tight to her heart and shoved out of the chair.

  Do it now. Before Grey returned.

  She forced one foot in front of the other until she was in the bathroom.

  Lock the door.

  She locked it and broke Hunter’s plastic razor in the sink.

  Don’t think. Just do it.

  She shoved the sleeves of her sweater far up her arms, baring her skin.

  Seizing the blade, she yanked it down the length of her forearm, elbow to wrist, so fast she didn’t feel anything. Her skin looked perfect and she feared she’d missed. Then fire blossomed over her. The wound spread, revealing a long, deep incision. Blood filled it and spilled over her arm.

  Now the other, fast.

  Her fingers were numbing already. She ran the blade along the other arm.

  Blood seeped down both arms drawing thick, bright lines against the white sink. The pain wasn’t nearly as excruciating as she expected. But then in the last couple of days, she’d been shot and stabbed. Maybe she was getting used to it. What a horrible thought. Or maybe the blood loss and acceptance of her situation blunted the sensation.

  Black specks flickered through her vision and she leaned over the sink to brace herself. She’d get dizzy soon. She should have done this in the tub to contain the mess. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that, logical or not, she loved Hunter, he loved her, and she was saving his life.

  She concentrated on him, wrapping his presence around her, savoring the memory of making love and the fervor of his emotion. Thank you, my ferocious love.

  Her vision blurred. The black specks disappeared. Something was wrong. She was supposed to be lightheaded and dizzy. What the hell was going on? She wiped the blood from the first incision, revealing a thick red line and no wound.

  Her stomach churned.

  She wiped the blood from the other arm. Same thing.

  No.

  No, no, no. She couldn’t have healed. Hunter wasn’t in her any more. How was she going to save him if she couldn’t kill herself? She was supposed to die so he could live.

  Her throat tightened and she swallowed hard against it. It wasn’t fair. Her death could have meant something and now she couldn’t even kill herself.

  With a growl, she threw the glass from the counter across the room. It hit the tiled shower stall and shattered.

  Footsteps pounded through the suite. “Anaea?” called Grey through the bathroom door. “You okay?”

  Her eyes burned. No, she wasn’t okay. She couldn’t even kill herself.

  “Anaea.” He knocked on the door.

  God, she was going to have to face the slow, painful cancer death, and Hunter would be reborn.

  The knocking increased and the handle clicked back and forth against the lock.

  Except if she could heal her gash, did that mean she could heal her cancer?

  The door crashed inward. Grey stood on the threshold, his gaze locked on the blood in the sink.

  She’d been too afraid to ask Hunter, too afraid to have any hope. But cancer or no, her presence still endangered him.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Trying to save Hunter.”

  “Mother of All, not like this.” He yanked a towel from the rack and grabbed Anaea’s wrist.

  “Apparently not,” she said, revealing the healed wounds.

  Grey jerked back. “You—” His mouth opened and closed but no words came out.

  “You have to do it,” she said.

  “I what?”

  “You made it clear if I’m alive Hunter will be reborn.” She shoved past him, going into the sitting room. This had to be done now, before Hunter returned.

  “When did you—?” Grey rushed after her.

  She grabbed his sword and held it out to him. “You have to take my head.”

  “Are you crazy?”

  “Please.” She wasn’t going to be re
sponsible for any more deaths, particularly not Hunter’s.

  “I’m not going to kill you.”

  She shoved the sword into his hands. “I can’t do it by myself.”

  CHAPTER 32

  Hunter dashed across the lawn for the trees. He had to get to cover. A gale slammed into his back, whistling around his head, tugging at his clothes. He stumbled, caught his balance, and lengthened his stride. He could not get caught.

  Sudden grief and desperation washed over him. His knees buckled. Anaea was in trouble. Something was wrong. Every instinct within him knew the emotions were hers. His throat constricted. No. Hers did.

  The wind slammed into his side, knocking him down.

  He scrambled to his feet and pushed his connection with Anaea aside. He had to get out of here first. Then he could comfort her.

  Massive chunks of earth shot from the ground. He twisted out of the way, his sheathed sword banging against his thigh. Just a few feet more and he’d reach cover.

  The wind slammed him into the closest tree. Light danced across his vision and he staggered forward. Whoever controlled the wind was powerful.

  The ball of light zinged around his head. Earth shot up beside him, slicing up his calf and thigh. The wind captured him again, bashing him into another tree.

  Pain raced through Hunter’s chest. He gasped for breath. The wind released him and he lurched into the cover of the trees. Anaea’s despair burned through him. She didn’t want him to know something. She loved him; it was for the best. But she needed help.

  He rushed deeper into the brush, his chest aching. He had to get back to her. With her state of mind, it felt as though she planned something desperate.

  Two men crashed through the underbrush, both dragons by their strong auras. The first, a big man with a buzz cut, dove for Hunter. He sidestepped and rammed his fist into the man’s temple, but the other man—also enormous, they could have been twins—was on Hunter fast, punching him in the face.

  Pain exploded across Hunter’s forehead and his vision went black. Sight popping in and out of focus, he elbowed Twin Number Two in the gut. Twin One stood and Hunter kicked out his legs, toppling him back to the ground. Hunter drew his sword and sliced open Twin Two’s neck. It wouldn’t kill the drake, just hopefully slow him down long enough for an escape.