Hoarding Secrets (A Dragon Spirit Novel Book 3)

by C. I. Black

  Grey heaved off Servius’s corpse, grabbed the knife by Ivy’s hand, and rammed the tip into the disk. Light sparked from it and the glowing magical spiderweb vanished. The stone around the medallion froze, locking it in place, now half revealed. Regular stone magic wouldn’t be able to pull it out — it hadn’t before — and as far as Grey knew, there weren’t any other drakes with enough sorcerer’s ability to finish the job. Not without many, many years of concentration.

  Beside him, Ivy lay unconscious. Her brown locks veiled her face but didn’t hide the torn shoulder strap of her dress. A tear in the fabric at the back of her dress and the blood crusted around it told him Servius or Jet had run her through with a sword.

  A flicker of heat rage flared in his chest, but couldn’t move past the agony pulsing through him. Ivy had suffered because the dragon Court was a mess. But for now, she was safe.

  He shoved Hunter’s medallion into his pocket, drew Ivy into his lap, and cradled her against his chest. Blood already splattered her face and arms, and even if holding her added his to the mix, he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself if he’d wanted to. He had to touch her, had to ensure she was all right. He belonged to her and had no idea what he’d do without her.

  Quick footsteps pounded on the floor behind him, but not the dozen or so he’d expect if Tobias was bringing a squadron. Grey dragged his attention from Ivy toward the steps.

  Tobias and Ophelia rushed into the arena, swords drawn.

  “Just the two of you? Didn’t Capri stress the importance of the situation?”

  Tobias’s eyes narrowed, his gaze sliding over Ivy in Grey’s lap. “I was hoping you’d take care of it and I wouldn’t have to arrest you.”

  “How kind.” Grey coughed, choked on the blood in his throat, and fought to breathe. More blood rushed down his chest with the sudden contraction of his muscles and pooled around him. “Yep, everything is taken care of.”

  Tobias sheathed his sword and strode to Grey’s side. “Let me take Ivy.”

  Grey tightened his grip on her. He’d just gotten her back. No way was he handing her over.

  Tobias crouched and reached for her.

  “I’ve got her,” Grey growled.

  “She’s my agent,” Tobias said.

  Ophelia stepped close, her sword still drawn. “Where’s her locket?”

  “I have to get it.” Grey tightened his grip. If she didn’t have her locket when she woke, she wasn’t going to remember anything. It was in a sewer in Vancouver, but he had no idea if he could gate there and find it before she woke. And he had to be there when she woke.

  “She won’t remember you,” Ophelia said, as if she could read his thoughts.

  “I don’t care.” He couldn’t do anything else but be there. “She can’t stay here and continue being Regis’s pawn. She’s exposed to other drakes who could abduct her like Servius did.” Grey staggered to his feet, agony burning through him. It didn’t matter if she never remembered him or if she was no longer inamorated with him. She’d said she wanted to be free, to stop being used by Regis and Tobias, and he would God-damned do everything in his power to ensure that happened.

  “That’s not for you to decide,” Tobias said, taking a step toward him, his eyes narrowed.

  Grey jerked away from him, his legs trembling with the effort to stay standing. “It’s not for you, either.”

  Tobias drew his sword. “She can’t make that choice.”

  “Because she won’t remember?” God, how long had Tobias been using that line on Ivy?

  “Yes,” Tobias growled.

  “She remembers enough.”

  “Not without her locket,” Ophelia said.

  “And I’ll find it.” He glanced at Ophelia. Both she and Tobias had their swords drawn. He’d never be able to win a fight, not as injured as he was. He would have to make a deal and pray it was good enough for them to let him leave.

  Grey dropped to one knee, balancing Ivy against his chest, and pulled Hunter’s medallion from his pocket. “Take the royal coterie’s medallion and take the rebirth coin probably in Servius’s pocket.” If this wasn’t a good enough deal, he’d fight. Mother of All, he’d fight to his last breath to honor Ivy’s wishes. Grey bared his teeth in full and growled. “You will not take Ivy.”

  Tobias growled back. “What the hell is wrong with you? She can’t leave with you. Even if it’s best to get her out of Court, you’re a wanted drake. I’ve had to issue a warrant for your arrest. You’re—”

  Ophelia sighed. “Inamorated.”

  Tobias glared at her. “He’s what?”

  “Inamorated. The only way you’ll get Ivy from him is to kill him. Or she renounces him and returns to you willingly.” Ophelia slid her narrow sword into the sheath at her hip. “Tobias, this is good for her. This is what we wanted for her, a new coterie.”

  “I wouldn’t say Grey has a coterie.”

  Ophelia quirked a half smile. “He does.” She turned to Grey. “When the dugga starts demanding why he can’t have Ivy in his employ, I’ll have to send him your way.”

  Grey hissed. “You just do that.”

  Her smile deepened, as if she knew some inside joke.

  “We’re leaving.” He dropped the medallion and stepped back.

  “Oh, for the love of—” Tobias rolled his eyes at Grey. “Pick that up, and here—” He rifled through Servius’s pockets and found the coin. “You need to take this, too, before I have to summon the guard.”

  His mind stuttered. Take this, too? That didn’t make any sense.

  Ophelia chuckled. “I think you’ve broken him.”

  “I thought we had an understanding,” Tobias said, his voice low. “When I first called you to look into this, I thought you knew where I stood.”

  “I thought I did, too.” Except Grey wasn’t certain any more if he did or not. Very few drakes would risk their lives by disobeying their doyen and prince.

  “I’m the Court’s man, and stability and peace between coteries are my primary goals,” Tobias said. He glanced at the dark entrance on the far side of the arena, then looked back at Grey. “We both know I can’t let Regis have the medallion even if it does belong to him.”

  Ophelia took the coin from Tobias, grabbed the medallion from the floor, and held them out to Grey.

  “As for the coin… Regis knows about it,” Tobias said. “But I’ll tell him the magic to join the pieces was destroyed and the spell on the coin doesn’t work.”

  Grey stared at the medallion and coin in Ophelia’s hand. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

  “I’m not playing anything.” Tobias’s expression darkened. “I just need to hold Court together long enough for the Handmaiden to get back and fix this.”

  “You think she will?” A hint of fog fluttered at the edge of Grey’s vision. He couldn’t keep standing here. He needed to sit and let his body heal.

  “She has to.” Tobias jerked his chin at Ophelia. “Gate him wherever he wants to go.”

  He wanted to go home, but he wasn’t sure where that was. No, it was wherever Ivy was. Next best choice was Nero’s mansion, but telling Ophelia that would endanger his puzur. “There’s a hotel in Vancouver. The Sutton Court.”

  “I’m familiar with it.” Ophelia drew close and slid the medallion and coin into his pocket. “Keep her safe.”

  “With my life.”

  She hissed her power word and a black vortex burst to life against the floor beside him. “Her power word is si.”

  “Thank you.” He stepped into the gate. Darkness enveloped him, his sense of the world tilted, then his foot hit the floor and he stepped into the living room of the hotel room in Vancouver.

  Grey’s knees buckled and he fought to stay standing. He wasn’t going to worry about how Ophelia knew exactly where to send her gate. All he could focus on now was getting Ivy to the bedroom where they’d made love and pray being there was enough for her to remember who she really was. It didn’t matter if she remembered
him or how he felt about her. All that mattered was that she didn’t wake terrified and knew there was someone with her who she could trust.

  CHAPTER 41

  Nero hung up on Tobias and shoved his phone back into his pocket, stared at the bottle of scotch at the edge of his desk, and contemplated pouring another drink. God, his head hurt, and light now constantly flashed across his vision.

  But it had nothing to do with Tobias’s news, which had been that Nero’s cousin, Servius, was dead and had been the one behind ransacking the Handmaiden’s chambers at Court. As well, the chamberlain’s agent, Ivy, was no longer in the prince’s employ and not available to be transferred to work for the Asar Nergal. Tobias implied she’d come to the same end as Servius, but didn’t outright lie, while making it clear that mentioning Ivy to Regis would upset and enrage the prince.

  Nero didn’t doubt Ivy would be a sore topic but knew from Diablo that while the green drake was no longer a member of the royal coterie, she wasn’t dead. Neither was Grey, and it seemed the Court’s chamberlain was willing to disobey his prince to let the inamorated drakes be free — or as free as they could get with an arrest warrant hanging over Grey’s head.

  Light flickered across his sight and pain snapped in his skull, a warning from the magic that made him dugga of the Asar Nergal that there were active human mages in the world. Mages he hadn’t added to his puzur and by doing so somehow changed how the dugga’s magic perceived them.

  According to Diablo, who’d called a few minutes earlier, Grey had barely survived the fight with Servius and had only managed to defeat the ancient black drake a matter of seconds before Diablo would have jumped in and helped.

  Another flicker and snap, but Nero’s vision didn’t change. He remained in his office and the dugga’s magic didn’t reveal anything about this new threat.

  He poured himself another two ounces of scotch and downed it in one gulp. A part of him was grateful Diablo had managed to stay hidden, but a bigger part raged that they’d been forced to let Grey face Servius alone. Whether it had been anyone’s intention or not, Grey had become a member of his puzur just like Anaea and Ryan and even Capri. And now, he supposed, Ivy.

  Crack. More lightning and pain, and still no change of location.

  “For the love of—” He jerked to his feet, frustration and rage demanding he take action, even if the only thing he could do was stand. “Show it to me or shut the fuck up.”

  The world vanished with a lightning strike that blinded and burned him, searing every cell in his body. Everything was white… and cold… and at the edge of his vision came a faint, steady beep.

  He fought to breathe past the agony. The seam between a white wall and a white ceiling materialized, and the acrid bite of an antiseptic filled his nostrils.

  The beeping grew louder and faster. He tried to turn his head, get a better look at the room, but it was as if he were trapped inside the mage, not an outside observer like he usually was.

  “It’s not real,” a raspy, broken alto whispered. “This is not happening. It’s not real.”

  Something creaked and a soft slow thud — footsteps? — drew closer.

  A woman leaned into view, wearing dark-rimmed glasses and a white coat. “Your pulse has spiked. What do you hear?”

  “I don’t hear anything,” the alto said.

  “I can’t help you if you’re not honest.”

  “I don’t hear anything.” Nothing. Nothing. Please.

  Another blast of pain swept through Nero and he ground his teeth against it, embracing the sudden rage boiling through the agony and staying with this human mage. He’d missed someone and she’d fallen into the human’s medical system. He had to find her. If he got to her soon enough, she might not go insane and he wouldn’t have to issue the order to kill her.

  He’d need more information before sending Diablo, but given how unpredictable his dugga’s magic had become, it was best to get the conversation started.

  Diablo. He focused on his mental connection with the black drake.

  The beeping grew faster.

  “Tell me what you hear,” the doctor said.

  “Nothing.” Please, nothing.

  Diablo, Nero called again, concentrating on the connection in case Diablo’s lack of response was a fault in Nero’s magic and not the black drake ignoring him.

  The alto groaned. “I hear—”

  “Tell me.” The doctor’s eyes narrowed, and panic shot through Nero.

  Diablo!

  “Oh, God. I hear—” The alto gasped as if she couldn’t catch her breath. I don’t hear anything. It’s not real. It’s. Not. Real.

  What? Diablo barked.

  Heads up. I’ve got another one, and we might have to move quickly on this. The pain flared, roaring through Nero’s head. He had to hold on and figure out where this mage was.

  Where is he? Diablo asked.

  She. And I’m working on it. He needed a location and then more information before he sent Diablo into any human facility.

  The doctor’s hand flew into sight and grabbed the alto’s face, forcing the woman to look at her. A strange aura flared about the doctor’s face and Nero’s pulse skipped a beat. He had no idea what he was looking at or if what he saw was his ability to see an aura or the alto’s.

  She’s in a hospital, Nero said. The location was there, at the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t draw it forward like he used to be able to do with his dugga power.

  That narrows it down. Got a continent?

  “What do you hear?” the doctor hissed. “Who is he talking to?”

  “No one.”

  He needed more information, but the beeping kept getting louder and faster and the pain now consumed his body. The alto’s panic filled him… or was this his panic? He didn’t know any more. The only thing that mattered was finding her.

  Come on, Diablo growled. I could use a fight.

  “Who?” The doctor jerked the alto’s head forward.

  “The devil.” The beeping became wild. “The devil.” And God help me, he’s sending the devil after me.

  Everything within Nero froze. You can hear me?

  No. I can’t hear anything. Nothing. This isn’t real.

  You can hear me?

  No, I can’t. “Get out of my head!”

  The connection exploded into blinding, searing agony that consumed him, body, mind, and soul, and dropped him to his knees back in his office.

  He had no idea what had just happened, but he had a horrible feeling he’d just discovered the leak in the Asar Nergal, and the leak was him.

  * * *

  Pain snapped through Diablo’s head. Agony had burst through the telepathic connection with Nero and they’d been cut off. The beast within him roared, screaming for the fight Nero had just promised, and Diablo summoned a gate before the thought was fully formed in his mind.

  The black vortex swept around him and tossed him into Nero’s office. The doyen was on his knees, clutching the edge of his desk as if hoping it would help him stand, but the pain in his expression and the fear radiating from him in giant consuming waves said he wasn’t sure even the desk could help. That only made the beast’s rage stronger — and it had nothing to do with Nero looking weak.

  His doyen was in agony, and even if Nero wanted to denounce the dugga’s power, the Handmaiden needed to be around to take it from him. But Nero would never give up the dugga’s position, no matter how painful the magic. As dugga, he could control which human mages were killed in the name of protecting dragonkind. The kids he’d saved, those innocents, were as much a part of his life as his dragon coterie, and he would never endanger them or risk someone else discovering them.

  Which only made the beast howl even more for a fight. To hurt something like Nero was hurting. Break something like Nero was breaking. Feel something other than Nero’s pain and fear and determination.

  Nero groaned and his grip on the desk slipped, dropping him back to the floor.

  Dia
blo rushed to his side and helped him sit in his desk chair. “What the hell happened?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Where is the mage? Is she a danger?” God, just one little brawl. The fight with Jet had been satisfying — grenade and all — but having to watch the fight with Servius, praying he wouldn’t have to endanger his puzur by stepping in and helping at the last minute while clawing back the beast howling to participate, had worn his nerves thin.

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know or you won’t tell me?” Don’t bench me. Not now. He didn’t care if he had to storm into a high-security prison. He needed to hit something.

  “I don’t know.” Pain snapped through Nero, tightening his expression and slicing across Diablo’s empathic link. “I said it was a heads-up. When I have actionable intelligence, you can pick her up or kill her.”

  “You think she’s one of Zenobia’s?” A crazy mage could make the situation dangerous… and more satisfying.

  “I don’t know what I think,” Nero barked and another blast of pain slammed into Diablo.

  His beast writhed against what little mental control he had over it. Fight. Hurt. Feel. “Whatever.”

  He couldn’t stay there. If the beast broke free, he could hurt one of the kids. It was bad enough that after Andy’s death they’d started keeping their distance from him as if they knew he was barely holding himself together. He’d tried to concentrate on one of the relaxing mental exercises Andy had taught him, but that only made him think of Andy and infuriated the beast.

  Nero’s pain surged, and it took Diablo everything he had not to reveal that he could feel it, too. Get the hell out of there. It was his only option. With a growl, he summoned a gate on the floor in front of him.

  Nero’s eyes narrowed, tightening, and Diablo could sense he was willing himself to concentrate past the pain. A calm shuddered around him, and his emotions hardened to a focused determination. There was business to take care of and his pain and everything else needed to be set aside. That was why Nero was doyen and dugga. Even with almost four hundred years of life, Diablo had never been able to control himself like that.