Kings of the Fire Box Set

by Lily Cahill

  Odd. And sure, it was possible that he was overtired and stressed and seeing things, but now he had an earworm burrowing into his brain, whispering sabotage, sabotage as it went.

  There was no need to tell Joy, though. It would only make her upset, and that would be counterproductive.

  “My phone is dead,” he said, hoping he sounded more neutral than he felt. His emotions were so much more present, so much more obnoxious as a human than as a dragon. He wished he could shift. “Can I use yours?”

  Joy shook her head. “It broke to pieces in the accident. You don’t happen to remember their numbers off the top of your head, do you?”

  He didn’t.

  Officer Wells stood to his full height. “Look, I understand that you need to contact your families, but I really need to ask you a few questions, Ms. Valdez.”

  If Joy was at all impressed by what he said, she hid it masterfully. She looked as bored as a person who was hooked up to various beeping machines in a hospital bed could possibly look.

  “Vincent didn’t hit anything. We weren’t on drugs, and we weren’t drinking.” She sighed. “They already took some blood from me to do some testing since I’m on some prescription potions, and they can confirm the drugs and drinking part if you don’t believe me.”

  “I am glad to hear that, and I will be speaking to them, but that was not what I need to confer with you about. I’m developing a theory that this is the work of someone who may be seeking some sort of retribution on you, and I—“

  “Retribution?”

  For the first time since she had started her non-stop chattering that day, Vincent heard an uncertain wobble enter Joy’s voice.

  “It’s just a theory, Joy,” Vincent cut in. He moved between the officer and Joy. Her eyes went to his face, and he could feel the need there—she was frightened, hanging on his every word. He picked up one of her hands and squeezed it between his own. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

  She nodded, never taking her eyes away from his. He felt a flare of something—heat, certainly, but more than that, something ancient and inexplicable—stir inside him.

  “Well, we’ll see what the warlock says when he’s done looking over the crime scene. If we find any trace magic, as I suspect we will, we’ll need to take action. Protective custody, maybe, or—“

  “Suddenly, I’m feeling very faint and definitely need to be left alone,” Joy said. She leaned back into the pillows. “Except for Vincent, I mean.”

  Officer Wells gave a long suffering sigh. “I’ll need to talk to you eventually, you know.”

  “We know, and we understand the gravity, but it’s been a trying day, and Joy needs to rest.”

  “All right, fine. But I need some way of reaching you two, and I already know both of your phones don’t work.”

  Joy lit up. “Google Pandora Investigations. The woman who runs it is dating Vincent’s brother, Blayze. We’ll be with her for most of the weekend, and I’m sure she won’t mind if you contact us through her line until we get our cells sorted out.”

  “Blayze has a girlfriend, huh? My daughter is going to be heartbroken.” He nodded, but then left the room. Finally, they were alone again.

  Chapter Five

  Joy

  JOY WASN’T SURE WHAT SHE’D been expecting when Vincent had burst into her room, but this outward affection was not it.

  Not that she was complaining. He hadn’t let go over her hand since he’d grasped it, had taken to stroking his thumb over her palm every few seconds. He leaned in close to her to speak even though the room was quiet. It was like he just wanted the extra proximity.

  It was what she wanted, too.

  When they’d closed the ambulance doors on him and driven away, Joy had started crying, and she hadn’t stopped until they’d reached the hospital and given her something to calm down.

  The pain was overwhelming. Fresh out of rehab, they couldn’t give her anything stronger than ibuprofen to deal with her residual aches. There was a bruise across her chest and waist in the exact shape of the seatbelt. It was going to be totally noticeable in her bridesmaid dress.

  She glanced at the clock above her bed. The rehearsal dinner was well underway by now. It’d be lucky if they made the wedding.

  It was all too much: the accident, the wedding. And now to find out that there might be someone behind this?

  Another person trying to kill her?

  Joy was honest with herself: she knew she wasn’t the world’s most stellar person. But neither were a lot of people, and crazies weren’t regularly coming out of the woodwork to murder them. Sure, she had made mistakes in the past. A lot of them, admittedly. And her family was—well, Felicity was working on making them honest again, and didn’t that count for anything?

  She was trying to be better. She’d gotten clean. She’d gone through rehab. Why didn’t it matter to anyone?

  “You should get out of here,” she said, her voice too loud in the quiet of the room.

  Vincent looked up from where he’d been staring off into the distance. “What?”

  “Don’t miss the wedding. Get out of here. Go. I’m stuck waiting for the all clear from the doctor because someone won’t let me leave against medical advice.”

  “I won’t apologize for being concerned for your wellbeing,” he said, stubbornly.

  God, but she wanted him.

  She’d been thinking it all day, since he’d rolled down the window and directed that smile at her. She’d thought it when he’d done that incredibly stupid dare, when he’d listened to her talk about her issues with her daily medicinal potions.

  She’d chalked it up to hormones: Vincent was a handsome guy. Tan, dark, tousled hair. A bit of a beard growing in along his jaw and cheeks. And God—she wanted to go back in time and personally thank whoever invented push-ups because his arms were glorious.

  He was sitting next to her hospital bed, holding her hand and glaring at her for daring to suggest he not miss his own brother’s wedding. There was no sense in pretending she wasn’t in to him. In fact, she was way more than in to him—she was gone over him, so gone. There was no coming back from this. Vincent Dragomir had completely won her in the course of a single day. She wanted him—every single bit of him, inside and out.

  “You should google Ramona, too, you know. Let her know where we are, and that we won’t be there until late tonight.” She pretended to glare, but there was no real heat to it. “At the earliest. Maybe not until tomorrow, if I’m forced to listen to Nurse Vincent.”

  He sighed. “You’re right. I’m going to go see if I can use the phone at the front desk, let everyone in New York know where we are. I’m sure your sister is tearing apart the world looking for you.”

  It was hard to call Felicity overprotective when she had been right so many times lately. Dammit.

  “I’ll be fine here,” she said.

  He gave her hand one final squeeze and hesitated, hovering over her like he was considering doing something more. Kiss me, she thought.

  He didn’t. As if she needed any more proof that she had no powers.

  She watched as Vincent disappeared out the door and heaved a sigh.

  Maybe this was just—wedding fever. She’d never before gone to an event like this without a date. But it didn’t feel like that. It felt like…fate.

  “I’m being ridiculous,” she muttered aloud to herself.

  “Usually, yes,” said a voice in the doorway. Joy’s heart ricocheted in her chest. “Right now, however, is one of those rare exceptions that proves the rule.”

  Standing just inside the door was a small, plump woman. Her gray hair was a crazy mess, tangled and standing on end. She wore a dark dress, but it did nothing to disguise the energy she conveyed. There was something to her, something that made Joy want to sit up and pay attention.

  Was this person here to hurt her, too?

  “Who are you?” she asked, trying not to let her fear bleed into her voice.

&nbs
p; Without moving her eyes away from the woman, she slide her hand ever so slowly toward the call button on her bed. She pushed it soundly, but nothing happened.

  “That won’t work, dear,” the mysterious woman said. She walked further into the room and sat herself on the chair that Vincent had abandoned. Her legs didn’t even touch the floor. “I’m a bit too smart for that old trick.”

  Magic held weight, held power. Joy may not have had the ability to use that power, but she’d grown up in a household of witches. She could sense it in the atmosphere, smell it, like ozone, the scent of the air after a lightning strike. Felicity radiated that kind power; it came off her in waves.

  Sitting next to this woman was like drowning in the ocean.

  She opened her mouth to scream, but found that no sound could pass through her vocal chords.

  “Come now, if I wanted to hurt you, I wouldn’t have taken the time to pop in and have a chat, would I?” The witch, or at least the woman Joy assumed was a witch, crossed her feet at the ankles and swung them back and forth. “No, my dear. I’ve come to warn you.”

  “Warn me? About what?”

  “That car crash was not natural. You’ll be informed of that soon enough. But they will not find the woman who cast the spell.”

  Joy felt ice form in her chest. “How do you know?”

  “Because I know who cast it. Her heart is winter itself, and her intent is deadly.” A kind of strange quality came over the woman’s voice. She no longer seemed as dotty as she did earlier. It was disquieting. “This time, however, yours was not the life she intended to end.”

  The room was quiet as Joy let the words sink in. So she had been—collateral damage? And if she wasn’t the intended target, then—

  Her stomach flipped, and she felt bile rise up her throat.

  “Vincent.”

  The witch nodded. “She works against the will of the prophecy. She will see you separated.”

  “What does that even mean?” Joy knew her heartrate was spiking—she could hear it in the quick screech of the monitors hooked to her body. But she couldn’t calm down; there was no reason to be calm. “Stop talking in riddles!”

  “Keep him safe. Fulfill the prophecy. Only its magic can protect you now.”

  “I don’t understand—“

  “You will.”

  And then she was gone. Joy blinked and rubbed at her eyes, but it didn’t make the woman appear. It was if she had never been there at all.

  A nurse rushed into the room, then frowned when she saw that Joy was sitting up in her bed. . “Miss Valdez, your machines are going crazy. Are you all right?”

  Joy was many things, but all right was not one of them. She took in a deep, shaky breath, letting it flow throughout her body before releasing it. Now was not the time to panic, even if she really wanted to.

  Think, you idiot, she told herself. What would Felicity do?

  She already knew the answer.

  Joy looked up at the nurse, her jaw set determinedly. “I would like to check out AMA. And as soon as possible.”

  The nurse frowned. “I will get the doctor for you, see if they can help you figure out. If you don’t mind holding on just a few more minutes—“

  “No. No more holding on. I want to leave.”

  She went to grab for the IV in her arm, and the nurse rushed forward, holding it in place.

  “No, stop. Let me do that.” Her quick hands worked methodically through the process. “Are you sure I can’t convince you to wait for the doctor just a few more minutes? What about that young man of yours? If I go get him, do you think he’ll talk some sense into you?”

  People had been trying to “talk some sense into her” for as long as Joy could remember. None of those lessons had stuck yet, except for rehab.

  “I’ve made up my mind.”

  And she had. The hospital wasn’t safe. If that witch—the one who had reached out to her to help, presumably—had been able to waltz inside without anyone raising any sort of alarm, she had to assume that the other one would be able to, as well.

  Could this possibly be the same benevolent witch who had helped Felicity and Damien, and Blayze and Ramona? She’d heard stories about the woman, but that was all.

  There were only two real options: trust the crazy witch, or not. Either way, Vincent had a target on his back. If she did this, then at least they had a chance.

  Free of all the wires and contraptions, Joy swung her legs out of bed. Her entire body ached from the accident. She could still feel the impact with the barrier in her bones. It didn’t matter, though. All that mattered was making sure that Vincent e got out of this hospital where he was nothing more than a sitting duck.

  Her clothes were in a pile on a nearby chair, neatly folded. They weren’t clean—in fact, there was some blood on the shoulder of her shirt, which was disconcerting. She started to pull off her dressing gown, and the nurse turned to give her a modicum of privacy. Not that it really mattered to Joy one way or another; she’d been in the hospital so much lately that her sense of modesty was pretty much non-existent.

  Joy pulled on the bloody shirt and stepped into her jeans. She forced her feet into her shoes, grimacing all the while. The nurse stuck close by, slinging an arm around her and helping her to walk forward one step at a time.

  It was like waking up from the potion all over again. She closed her eyes and fought back a wave of nausea at that thought.

  After a few steps, her body seemed to catch up to her needs. Moving became easier. She was still stiff and sore, but it was nothing that wouldn’t be healed by time. And, well, preferably some kind of prescription painkiller, but that was no longer an option.

  She shuffled out into the hallway and glimpsed the nurse’s station, a few doors down. Vincent was leaned over the counter, a phone pressed to his ear. The cord stretched across the front desk, where a girl sat, smiling at him. Joy could only see a girl a bit—she was mostly turned toward Vincent. But there was something in her posture that made jealousy flare up inside of Joy. She tamped it down.

  This is not the time, she told herself. Get him to safety first, be jealous about absolutely nothing later.

  Quickening her pace was difficult, but not impossible. The nurse was hot on her heels, talking all the while.

  “Miss, you really need to be wheeled out of the hospital, for insurance reasons.” Joy ignored her, but that was not as much of a deterrent as she might have hoped. “Miss, please, we have some exit paperwork that must be finished, and—“

  Vincent looked up. Surprise turned quickly to a frown as he saw her up and about, but he was still tethered to the phone. Good. She didn’t need two people lecturing her.

  Now that she was closer, she could hear what he was saying.

  “—is fine. I’m with her right now, in fact.” He glowered at her, but she couldn’t find it within herself to feel very sorry. “Yes, of course. Hold on.”

  Vincent stretched the cord so he could hand her the phone. “It’s Felicity.”

  She gulped. This was not going to be a fun conversation.

  She gripped the phone and brought it to her ear, inwardly fortifying herself. “Hey, Lis.”

  “Thank God you’re okay,” Felicity said, her voice shaking. She sounded so worried, and a wave of guilt hit Joy. She was supposed to stop making Felicity worry so much, not do the exact opposite. Even though this wasn’t her fault, she couldn’t help but feel bad. “And thank God you thought to look up Ramona, and that she had her phone on her, and just—are you okay? I’ll postpone the wedding. Damien and I can be there in a few hours, and we’ll sort this out.”

  “Lis, can you do a spell for me?”

  “What? What does that have to do with anything?”

  Joy took a deep breath and glanced around her. Both Vincent and that nosy nurse were too close. She shooed them away. It was somewhat effective; they took a few steps back, if anything. The girl at the desk had put her earbuds in as soon as Vincent had handed the phone away, s
o she figured she was at least safe on that front.

  “I need protection. There was—this weird woman, she came into my room. I think it was that witch that helped you save me.”

  “You’re not making any sense, Joy. You need to go back to your room, relax, and recuperate.”

  “Listen to me!” The sense of urgency flowed in Joy’s veins, and she wished she had some sort of power—magic, or the gift of persuasion, or just—anything. Anything that would make her more equipped to handle this moment. “I’m not making this up. She was short, and kind of round, and she had this wild and crazy gray hair. She talked in riddles, and—“

  Felicity sucked in a breath. “Okay. Okay, that sounds pretty similar.”

  “I know! And she told me that the accident wasn’t an accident, and that Vincent was the target. I’m going to make him stay in a hotel tonight. Whoever is after him had to have known that he was on his way to your wedding, so it isn’t safe for him there. And probably not for you, either.”

  “Right. I can redo the wards here, make them stronger. But I’ll need some time.” She sounded strong, assured, and resolute. Every inch the girl made out of steel that Joy had always known existed. “You should stay on the road tonight, if that’s safer. Call me when you get someplace—if I do a locator spell and combine it with a protection spell—well, it won’t be perfect, but it will be more than you have now. Take down my number.”

  Felicity rattled off the digits.

  “If I don’t hear from you within an hour, I’m calling the police.”

  “Right.” Having Felicity in her corner calmed Joy’s nerves. Already, she felt more capable of handling this. Mostly because Felicity was handling it.

  She leaned over the desk and hung up the phone, but the girl there never turned around. A moment later, Vincent was next to her, his eyes scanning up and down her body.

  She wished they were doing that in a less clinical way.

  So not the time, she reminded herself.

  The nurse was already there, mouth open as she prepared to start another lecture. There wasn’t time for that.

  “I’m about to do something I hate doing,” Joy said, interrupting the nurse. “And I don’t expect you to believe that’s true, but I swear to you, it totally is. Okay?”