“Alexa, no! I can’t let you!” Peter shouted behind her.
“You can’t stop me!” she shouted back. She halted at the door of the hangar. “He didn’t mean to kill Mom. He was trying to impress me, to win me over. Even though he remembered, even though he was a strong mage, he was still a kid, and he lost control. I laughed at him.” God, she had laughed at him. She remembered the embarrassment of having this twelve-year-old flirt with her, doing what she thought were parlor tricks. The utter ridiculousness of his claims. Maybe if she’d gone with him then…
“It may not have been possible to change,” she told Peter, “but it was my fault Mom was killed. I won’t let it happen to the rest of you. I won’t let it happen to Cyrgyn.” That would be the worst, she knew. To watch her friend die because of her failure, or to die herself, knowing as she did that his eternal suffering lay on her shoulders.
“He won’t let you.”
“How the hell do you know?” She scowled at her brother. “You don’t know him.”
“I—”
“Enough!” She turned and yanked open the hangar door. Cyrgyn rose from his spot at the back of the hangar. Surprise was evident in the loft of his eyebrows when he saw Peter.
“Hello.” He inclined his head. “You are Alexa’s brother,” he said with no query in his voice.
“She’s going to him,” Peter said. “She thinks that will end it.”
Alexa stopped walking and let her shoulders slump. She’d hoped Peter would care enough about her not to betray her to the dragon. She closed her eyes in an anticipatory wince and waited for the roar.
It came, but not from Cyrgyn. There was no warning groan, not even a creak, before the roof was ripped off the building.
Alexa steeled herself for a vortex, a storm, some rush of wind and sound. She was vaguely aware of Peter standing next to her, head tilted back, mouth open in astonishment.
The portion of roof that had been torn away clanged to the ground outside. No rush of wind followed, natural or manmade. There was dead silence.
“What happened?” Peter whispered.
“Shh.” Alexa didn’t move. Still nothing.
Cyrgyn’s legs bunched as if to launch. Alexa stopped him. “Let the enemy show his hand,” she said quietly. They waited some more.
Finally, there was a whump and something fell into the hangar. Alexa threw up her arm in a useless attempt to protect her face from a blast that didn’t come. Instead of a fireball, Tars had sent them a rock.
They circled closer, but the rock was only a rock, albeit a large one. A rubber band around it held a piece of cream vellum in place.
“What is this guy, twelve?” Peter asked, reaching for the note.
“Wait. Let me.” Alexa hefted the rock and turned it over, to make sure it wasn’t anything more than granite. Satisfied, she inspected the rubber band and paper to make sure neither harbored a triggering device. Not that Tars needed anything so mundane, but her training wouldn’t allow less caution.
Satisfied, she slid the paper from under the rubber band and unfolded it.
My dear Alexa, it began, as if she were an old friend. Our skirmishing strikes me as tiresome and silly. We are mature adults, accomplished mages—surely we can come to an agreement that benefits all involved. I propose a meeting on neutral ground, just you and me. No magic, no weapons apart from our minds. No tricks, no betrayal. We can end this.
He’d named a location outside the city and invited her to meet him there late that night.
Alexa hadn’t read the letter aloud but didn’t do more than fold it in half before Peter and Cyrgyn pounced on her.
“You can’t go,” Peter said.
“I have to.”
“Alexa.”
She turned to the dragon, who seemed to examine her mind through her eyes. Finally, his big head nodded. “I do not wish it, but I understand you must.” His warm breath wafted over the floor when he sighed. “We will have to trust him.”
“Trust him?” Incredulous, Peter stepped between them. “He killed our mother. He destroyed my father’s house.” He flung a hand in the air. “He ripped the roof off the goddamned building, and you think we can trust him?”
The only betrayal of Cyrgyn’s emotions came from the slight snort and wisp of smoke through his nostrils. “I believe I have known him a fair bit longer than you, young Peter. He does not truly wish Alexa dead. He wishes her his. He will not harm her.”
“Can you be sure of that? Besides, that’s what she plans to do.” He paced toward the dragon, following him as he moved back to his corner. “She thinks she needs to give herself to him to end this.”
Cyrgyn settled into a curve of glinting gold and lowered his head to the mattress beside him. “Alexa will do as she must.” His eyelids lowered. A casual observer would think him exhausted. Alexa recognized defeat.
Chapter Nineteen
Leaving the dragon to his slumber, Peter and Alexa went up into the loft. Peter sat at the table while Alexa began to prepare a meal.
“How can you eat?”
“Easily.” She pulled a bag of salad and a grilled chicken breast out of the refrigerator. At least Ryc had taken care of the food. “When you have the job I do, you eat when you can, as well as you can, because you never know what or when you’ll be eating again.”
“How can you do this to him, Alexa?”
She dumped salad into two bowls and began to slice the chicken. “You don’t understand, Peter.”
“I understand more than you think.” He took a deep breath and she sensed his urgency ebbing. When he spoke again the shrillness of panic had left his voice. “I told you I saw him.”
Denial was a reflex that jumped into Alexa’s throat. She turned with the salads and caught Peter’s grin, as if he’d known what she wanted to say. She smiled back, and absorbed the rush of affection that spread from her heart.
She set the bowls on the table and wrapped her arms around Peter’s head. “I love you, kid.”
“I love you, too.” He pulled back and grabbed her hand, tugging until she sat next to him. “You are meant for him. Not Tars. You can’t allow him to suffer.”
She pulled her hand away. “I’m doing this so he won’t suffer.” She snatched up the fork and stabbed some lettuce.
He shook his head. “No, you’re not. You’re doing it because it’s the easy way.”
She stared at him. “When have I ever done things the easy way?”
Peter laughed and dug into his own salad. “We don’t have time to get into that. But you have to admit, this is it.”
They ate in silence after that. Alexa usually avoided self-delusion. Was she taking the easy way out, instead of finding a true solution?
Easy would be escaping with Ryc. Leaving the whole problem behind. Making a life with the man who stirred her blood, swelled her heart. That would be the easy way.
Or maybe the easier way, she acknowledged, because she couldn’t turn her back on the loose ends. Tars would not give up just because she did. Nor would Cyrgyn.
Cyrgyn.
Alexa finished eating and convinced Peter they should sleep for a while before she had to go meet Tars. After he’d disappeared into the guest room, she poured a cup of tea and went downstairs to her ancient friend.
He lay as they had left him an hour before. Alexa lowered herself to the ground and leaned into the crook of his foreleg. His warmth surrounded her. It was the closest they’d ever come to a true embrace.
Cyrgyn lifted one eyelid and watched her. She smiled, cradling the mug against her updrawn knees. “Did you know Peter could see you?”
He shifted his head so he could speak. “I suspected he watched for me when you were children. He often sat in his window, gazing at the stars, but lowered his head when I neared. That was partly why I stopped visiting.”
“Except in my dreams.”
“Except in your dreams.”
Alexa drank some tea, wondering which of the jumble of words in her hea
d she wanted to say. “What is your dream, Cyrgyn? Tell me what you want when this is over.”
His head sank back to the floor but his eyes looked upward, as if to access his storage unit in the realm of dreams, somewhere in the sky.
“I dream of a home, and all that comes with it.” He wove a verbal tapestry of a life, with trappings and children and love and laughter. At the heart was Alexa, and every thread he wove was connected to her. As his voice rumbled on, Alexa closed her eyes and joined him. In his dream.
* * *
She awakened suddenly, not disturbed but prepared. Her internal alarm clock had booted her system, and she was ready to go.
Almost. Grimacing at her stiff muscles, she unfolded herself from Cyrgyn’s leg and popped her joints. The dragon didn’t move, but his voice echoed in her head.
Stay safe.
Alexa began to strap on her holster, but remembered Tars’ condition that neither of them bring weapons or employ magic. She checked the safety on the gun, then set the weapon back into its box in the cabinet. She grabbed a short jacket and pulled it on, then turned.
Peter stood at the loft rail. “I want to go with you,” he said softly.
“You can’t.”
“I know. Stay safe.”
Alexa left the car this time, opting for the power and flexibility of her cycle. She strapped on her helmet and wheeled the bike out of the hangar. She didn’t start it until she was well away.
Suddenly uneasy, she paused. The letter could be a trick. Tars could be waiting for her to go so he could enter and attack the dragon. Though she had never tried it before, she closed her eyes and cast out feelers for the mage. If he could sense her, she should be able to sense him. She tried for several minutes, but though she could pinpoint Cyrgyn and even her brother, she got nothing on Tars.
“He doesn’t want the dragon dead,” she reassured herself. If he had, he’d have tried already. He only wanted Alexa.
She swung her leg over the bike and kicked it into action. She had no clue what would happen at this meeting, but whatever it was, she was ready.
* * *
Tars waited, as he had promised. For the first time he could remember, he was nervous. He had no clue what was going to happen at this meeting. He had prepared nothing, no speech, no proposal, no attack. He was completely vulnerable.
But so was Alexa. She, too, had no inkling what would happen in this secluded, magical place. Tars rose from his perch on a fallen tree and moved closer to the water’s edge. The little Minnesota lake was surrounded by trees, but the short beach he had found allowed the minimal moonlight to push back shadows. The water lapped at the pebbles marking the meeting of water and earth and air. Three of the essential elements.
The fourth would not make an appearance this eve.
Tars felt Alexa before he heard the wheels of her motorcycle as she pushed it through the woods. Relief, joy, and sorrow warred within him. If he could not convince her now, they were all doomed. He saw no other way out of his damned curse.
Chapter Twenty
Alexa propped the cycle a few hundred yards from the lake Tars had directed her to. It was secluded but not deserted, near enough to St. Paul to be dotted with weekend homes. There was a clear path to the beach where he waited.
She paused in the shadows at the edge of the woods to survey the scene. The spot was very different from the location she and Cyrgyn had escaped to, the spot where Ryc had kissed her with near desperation.
She blanked out the memory and focused on the meeting at hand. The beach was small, as was the lake, and both were visible to the homes surrounding it. Across the water a party seemed to be in full swing, judging by the music and laughter on the air. All of it was insurance, she figured, against either of them attempting to use magic. They wouldn’t want to attract attention. She did a quick inventory of the energy supply anyway. Lots of water energy, as expected, but even more thermal energy. The patterns of thermal energy did not seem random, but carefully placed. Tars wasn’t taking any chances.
The mage stood by the water, his back to her, but she had no doubt he knew she was there. He cut a striking figure, his blond hair glowing platinum in the moonlight. He was dressed casually—surprisingly—in jeans and a light-colored shirt that showed off his physique. A physique she hadn’t been aware of until now.
She took one step onto the beach, then stopped.
“Good evening.”
She almost giggled as his words inspired the image of a vampire, but stopped herself in time. “Hi.” She didn’t move, and he didn’t turn.
“Thanks for coming,” he added, then he did turn. His ice blue eyes reflected the light and almost glowed. Alexa fought a shiver.
“I have to agree we weren’t going to get anywhere the way we were going.” She stepped forward and faced him. “So?”
After several moments of staring at each other, Tars spread his hands. “I don’t know.”
Interesting. “I thought you had a plan.”
He tucked his hands into his pockets and looked absurdly normal when he shrugged. “To talk. See if we can come to an agreement. A resolution. I don’t want more unhappiness,” he admitted. “More death.”
The last was said softly, almost apologetically.
“You mean me.”
“That, too, I suppose. I was referring to your mother, however.”
He began to pace around her. Alexa didn’t bother to turn, but kept her senses in tune as he circled. He stopped behind her.
“It was not intentional, Alexa.” His voice sounded very close to her ear.
“I know.”
“I never wanted it to happen, but once it did, I didn’t know how to rectify it.”
“Is that why you disappeared?”
He started moving again. “Yes. I frightened myself. Despite my memory of the past. Or maybe because of it,” he admitted, “I was arrogant even then. I knew you had no knowledge, and hoped to win you before your perspective was perverted by Cyrgyn.”
Alexa didn’t want to get into an argument about the past. She wanted this over. “Let’s talk about the future,” she said. “You want me. I want Cyrgyn to be human. Cyrgyn wants his human form and me. I don’t see how we can reconcile all of those.”
Tars sighed. “Nor do I. But we must be able to make a compromise.” He sank onto the ground and motioned for Alexa to join him.
“What’s your dream, Tars?” she asked him, making sure to keep her distance but willing to meet him halfway. She knelt on one knee, bracing the other foot in front of her and leaning toward him a little. “What would you do if you got me?”
If she’d expected him to look surprised, she was disappointed. His face looked remarkably like Peter’s when she’d asked about his dream.
“I’ve had nearly a thousand years to ponder that, haven’t I? It’s very simple, Alexa. I only want your love. Anything else is gravy.”
Alexa studied him. “What if I can’t give it? Even if I commit to you, even if we get married, I can’t promise to love you. And you can’t make me.”
Sadness flickered over his features, banished instantly by resolve. “It matters not. You asked, I told you.” He studied her a moment. “What about you? What is your definition of success?”
She thought of Ryc. She could feel his phantom lips on hers, the burn of his hands on her back. The filling of her soul when they touched.
“Cyrgyn,” she said, not quite lying. He’d rephrased the question, hadn’t asked about her dream, but about success. “The man, restored, and my life with him resumed the way it was meant to be.” Based on what she saw in Tars’ eyes, she knew the answer but asked anyway. “Will you do that?”
His reply was a snort of disdain.
Alexa sighed and turned to look out over the water. The party seemed more subdued, breaking up or settling down, now that they’d passed one in the morning.
She’d come here hoping Tars would compromise, that they’d be able to do something that would solve the en
tire dilemma. But it was clear there was only one thing to do.
“Break the curse, Tarsuinn.” She could hear the defeat in her own voice. When she looked at Tars, the hope on his face was heartbreaking.
“Please mean it, Alexa. Please don’t be tricking me again.”
Alexa felt despair sweep through her and ignored it. She thought of Cyrgyn’s lethargy, her brother’s anger. Ryc’s intense conflict as he kissed her and pushed her away at the same time.
But the strongest image of all those was Cyrgyn lying on the floor, certain his life was over.
She didn’t have a choice. She knew she’d never be able to convince Tars to let them win.
“I’m not tricking you. Do it.”
“Alexa.” He rose to his knees and pulled her closer. “I can’t believe…” He lowered his head and pressed his mouth to hers. She could feel his emotions in the crush of his lips, the pressure of his hands on her shoulders, but felt detached and alone.
“Oh, Alexa,” he murmured. “I have waited so long to make you mine. Thank you. Thank you.”
Alexa tried to resign herself to a lifetime of the deadness that had taken up residence inside her. She opened her eyes as Tars devoured her neck. It was a clear night, though not that bright. She heard a faint whoosh overhead, watched the stars blink, and knew Cyrgyn flew above. His anguish screamed through her and opened up a flood of emotions, none hers.
She could feel Cyrgyn’s fury and pain, but she could also feel Ryc’s despair and hatred toward the mage. Peter was there, too, filled with sadness and loss.
Alexa, no! Peter’s voice, in her head. She didn’t know where he was or how he’d suddenly become telepathic, but his words were clear. Trust me, this isn’t the way.
Then Ryc. You may not be mine, but I cannot let you be his. Stop, Alexa. Don’t let him take you.
Tars’ hands were under her shirt now, and Alexa knew if he continued, it would soon be over. She would be his—symbolically, even if never completely—and Cyrgyn would turn back into a man.
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