Flight of Dragons

by Elianne Adams, Sadie Haller, Zoe York, Shelley Munro, Zara Keane, LC Alleyne, Skye Jones, Evanne Lorraine, Ann Gimpel

  “Get in line, baby. Get in line.” I remove the key from the ignition and angle my body toward her. “Whatever Langley is to you, now is the time to come clean. It’s just you and me out here. No Tor, no Shadow Warriors. Are you sure you know nothing about the bombs. Because if you’re leading me into a trap—”

  “For the last time, I had nothing to do—oh, fuck this.” She shoves open the door of the truck and jumps out into the snow, slamming the door behind her.

  I slam my palms against the wheel. Damn, that woman tries my patience. I reach behind and grab our packs from the backseat. Outside the truck, the wind is ferocious and I’m blinded by the snow.

  I battle my way to the passenger side. “Lia? Where are you?” My words are whipped away by the wind.

  Then I spot her. She’s fallen face first into the snow and is struggling to get to her knees. I pull her up. “Rescuing you is getting to be a habit.”

  She glares at me. “I told you we should have left earlier.”

  “I didn’t conjure up the storm, baby,” I shout over the roaring wind. “Aren’t you at least going to thank me for remembering your backpack?”

  I shove it at her and she takes it, biting her lip. “Thanks,” she mutters, “but if I catch you calling me ‘baby’ again, you’ll have sore nuts for the night.”

  “Slip of the tongue.” More like memories and my hormones screwing with me. “Now lean on me and we’ll make for the house.”

  I loop my arm around her waist and we trudge through the heavy snow to the entrance of the lodge. I can’t feel much through the material of her coat but I know the curves it conceals. Lia might be skinnier than she used to be but she is still a sexy woman.

  When we reach the covered porch, she lets down her hood and stomps snow from her boots. “I hope they answer.”

  “They will,” I say and press the bell. I can already hear movement from inside.

  The door is opened by a small round woman with iron-gray hair and gold-rimmed spectacles. Her nametag proclaims her to be a Mrs. Trent. “Come inside. Quickly before the snow gets in.”

  The reception area of the lodge is small and cozy with patterned rugs draped across the wooden floorboards and amateur landscapes adorning the whitewashed walls. At the center of the room is a circular table with a large leather-bound guest register.

  Our hostess bustles behind the reception desk and opens the register. “You don’t have a reservation.” This is delivered as a statement, not a question.

  “No, but we’re kind of hoping you can find beds for us.” I slide a Fianna ID with a fake name across the desk and treat her to my most gracious smile. “If’s there’s somewhere we can shelter our truck for the night, all the better.”

  Mrs. Trent remains impervious to my charms. She peers at my ID over the rim of her glasses, and then points to a framed photograph of a pimpled youth in uniform. “My son, Joe. He fell in the last war.”

  Joe doesn’t look old enough to shave. I’ve never approved of the Fianna’s decision to conscript boys as young as fourteen. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  She sniffs and fixes her raisin eyes upon me. “It’s hunting season and we’re booked to capacity. Thankfully for you, one of our guests had to cancel due to the bad weather.”

  “One of your guests?” Lia leans over the desk to get a better look at the ink-filled pages of the open register. “Does that mean only one bed?”

  Mrs. Trent slides the register out of Lia’s reach. “Yes, but it’s a double. Will that pose a problem?”

  Lia and I stare at one another for a long beat. She’s unbuttoned her coat, revealing the form-fitting pullover underneath. Her nipples have pebbled from the cold, turning me hard in an instant. Holy mother, she is smoking hot.

  She addresses Mrs. Trent but her eyes never leave my face. “We’ll take the room.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  SETH

  Twenty minutes later, we have a keycard for our room and the truck is safe in the guest lodge’s heated garage.

  “Mrs. Trent wasn’t exaggerating when she said they were full,” I say as we maneuver our way up the crowded staircase.

  Lia’s only response is a glare. She’s been in a foul mood since I rescued her from the prison cell and it’s grown worse since we reached the lodge.

  I sigh. “Continuing to drive in this weather would have been suicidal.”

  “I know that. Although I’m not thrilled about the delay, it’s not what’s bothering me.”

  I throw her a glance over my shoulder. “So what is bothering you?”

  “Your uncle is a fucking animal. Did you see how young that boy in the photograph was? Torin MacNeil sent children into battle.”

  Two middle-aged men passing us on the stairs exchange a loaded glance, presumably at the mention of my uncle’s name.

  I grab Lia’s arm. “Crying out loud. Can you keep it down? We’re supposed to be traveling incognito. If you want to discuss this further, save it for our room.”

  “Like hell I will,” she snaps when we reach the second floor landing. “The Fianna are monsters.”

  An elderly man is polishing the brass knobs at the top of the staircase. He turns large eyes on us as we pass.

  Un-fricking-believable. Lia said nada for the eight hours we crawled toward Pylia and now she wants to tell the entire lodge our business. I need her to stop shooting her mouth off. Doesn’t she know that stability in the Provinces is precarious? Or is she trying to provoke me?

  “How do you even know Adrian is responsible for the bombings?” she continues in a loud voice.

  The cleaner isn’t even pretending not to eavesdrop. I swear beneath my breath and search for our room number.

  “Aren’t you going to answer me? What evidence—”

  “Fuck this.” I grab her and silence her with a crushing kiss. Her lips are soft, warm, inviting. I pull her closer and deepen the kiss. How can she still taste of strawberries and cream? My memories must be screwing with me.

  Although I haven’t been intimate with Lia in years, I still remember how she made me feel. Holding her in my arms today brings it flooding back. The scent of her skin, her silky soft hair…she was my first lover and I was hers. In all my thirty-four years, she’s the only woman who’s ever gotten underneath my protective armor. I loved her with an intensity that frightens me even now.

  She runs her fingertips over the nape of my neck, making me growl with pleasure. I shove her up against the wall and press my body against hers. I’m rock hard and I hear her intake of breath when she registers that fact. My heart takes on a new beat once our mouths mesh, bringing back all the heady memories of that long ago summer when we’d been in love.

  “Excuse me.”

  A harassed woman carrying a suitcase and a small child squeezes past us, severing the moment.

  Lia and I break apart, both breathing hard.

  “I’m sorry,” I say hoarsely. “I needed you to shut up.”

  “It was…effective.”

  “Uh, yeah.” I rub the back of my neck. What the fuck was I thinking? Judging by her stunned expression, Lia is as shocked as I feel.

  She shoves a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Let’s find our room.”

  “Oh. Sure.” I fumble in my pocket for the keycard. “It’s Number Thirty-Two.”

  When we find the correct door, I jam the keycard into its slot and pull Lia inside.

  “Public displays of affection aside, are you totally nuts?” I ask when I’ve shut the door. “Don’t you get the meaning of incognito?”

  She tugs out of my grasp. “Why are you whispering? Are you worried about bugs? If there are any, they’ll have been put here by the Fianna. You’re the ones obsessed with surveillance. Do you really think any of the rebel groups can afford to waste fancy tech by leaving it in a remote guest lodge?”

  “I—” My nails bite into my palms. The woman needs a muzzle, but if I use the silence-by-kissing method on her again, I’ll be distracted from carrying out a
check for bugs. “Just keep quiet for a sec, okay?”

  “I’m just looking out for myself, Seth. The more people who know I’ve been here, the better. I only have your word that you’ll help me find Ash, and you’ve already made it abundantly clear that you suspect me of being in league with a terrorist.”

  I suck air through my teeth. “You slipped Mrs. Trent a note, didn’t you? When you were pretending to paw her precious register?”

  Her half-shrug speaks volumes.

  “Crying out loud. How fucking stupid can you be? This far north, the place is swarming with rebel factions. Newsflash: they aren’t the good guys. They don’t give a fuck about you or your daughter. It’s bad enough that Langley can track our every move courtesy of that damn mobile phone.”

  Glaring at her, I drop to my knees and begin the search for creepy crawlies of the electronic variety. Even if Lia has blown our cover, I won’t sleep until I’ve checked every possible location. Taking precautions is what I do.

  I check the tiny bathroom first and come up empty. The room is next. It’s plain but serviceable with an overstuffed sofa and glass-topped coffee table on one side, and an enormous wardrobe on the other. A four-poster bed dominates the center of the room. I check underneath the bed and shake out its curtains. Then I search the wardrobe, the sofa, behind the pictures on the walls, and the light fixtures.

  After I’ve done a thorough sweep, I jump to my feet and brush carpet fluff from the front of my utility pants. “It’s clean.”

  I don’t dare look at Lia. I know she’s trying not to laugh and I’m not in the mood to deal with her.

  She throws herself onto the bed and props her head up with an elbow. Seeing her in this position reminds me of the last day we slept together. Right before the civil war broke out and I was captured by the opposition…No, I can’t go there. Not now. Maybe not ever. I quash the memory with a mental sledgehammer and force myself to focus on the present.

  Lia gives me an eye roll. “Fine. I’ll stop screwing with you. I did not slide the receptionist a note. I was trying to get a peek at her guest list.”

  I exhale in a whoosh. “That was not nice of you.”

  Her laugh tickles me in unmentionable places. “After the prison cell experience, you deserved it. I wanted to see if Adrian passed this way last night with Ash. If snowstorms are the norm up here, they might have stayed under assumed names.”

  “I’d imagine Langley has plenty of rebel cohorts willing to shelter him for the night. If he’s been living in the north all these years, he knows his way around better than we do. And speaking of which—” I unbuckle my pack and extract a tightly rolled sheet of leather, “—we need to plan our route for tomorrow.”

  “And I need to check my mobile phone for a message from Adrian.” She rolls off the bed and retrieves the mobile phone from the side pocket of her backpack. “Think how much easier this would be if we had the technology of the twenty-first century.”

  “Easier, maybe. Better for society? I’m not convinced.” I unfurl the map and spread it across the coffee table. “Here’s the deal. We need to collect supplies from a guy called Smyde. He runs a sporting goods store that should be a ten-minute drive from here, depending on the weather. He’ll give us climbing equipment and proper winter clothes for you.”

  Lia fingers her faded pullover and raises a sardonic eyebrow. “Not going to cut it for a hike?”

  “Nope.”

  She holds up the display of her phone. “Adrian has sent me another message. Mean anything to you?”

  The initials S.B. flash on the screen and my stomach cramps. This is not good news.

  “Well?” she prompts. “Who’s S.B.?”

  “It’s not a who but a where. Slieve Binnian is one of the Mournes. I’m guessing that’s where he’ll meet us.”

  Lia scrunches up her nose. “Dare I hope our rendezvous will take place at the base of the mountain?”

  “Somehow, I doubt we’ll get that lucky, but don’t panic. The mountain isn’t high by international standards. Now look here.” I jab my index finger at a point on the map, ignoring the effect her close proximity is having on my libido. “After we’re done with Smyde, we’ll drive another couple of kilometers until we reach the edge of Snow Forest. We’ll hide the vehicle and trek through the trees until we reach the river. There’s a stepping stone bridge we can summon to cross it. Then we’ll hike until we reach the base of Slieve Binnian.”

  “Whoa…did you say ‘summon’? As in conjure?”

  “Yes. The Fianna haven’t eradicated all of the Druids’ spells. Some prove useful.”

  “Any way you can magic us up to the top of the mountain?”

  “No can do. The fastest way to the mountain caves where I think Langley might be hiding is to climb over the mountain. But you’re an amateur so that’s out of the question.”

  Her brow furrows. “How much time will we lose by not climbing up to the top?”

  “About half a day.”

  She shakes her head. “We can’t afford that. We’re tight on time as it is.”

  “Climbing directly over the mountain with a novice is too risky, especially in this weather.”

  “And the alternative route?”

  “Yeah…” I look at her and her gloomy expression makes me want to laugh. “I don’t think you’re going to like it. The alternative is to climb to first base, then cut through the Cave of Shadows.”

  Her expression of horror would have done a mime artist proud. “Please tell me that doesn’t have anything to do with the Shadow Warriors.”

  “It does.” I reach out a hand and tweak her nose. “Don’t worry, Lia. They’ve sided with the Fianna. Otherwise my uncle wouldn’t employ them as his sentries.”

  She gives an emphatic shake of her head. “They’re deceitful by nature. Doesn’t it bother Torin to have them near at hand?”

  “That’s why he keeps them close.”

  “Shit.” She fiddles with the rings on her fingers, twisting them back and forth. “What comes after the Cave of Shadows?”

  “We climb until we come to a wooden bridge.”

  “Have I mentioned I have vertigo?”

  “Have I mentioned I don’t give a fuck?”

  “Sadist,” she mutters. “Okay. A wooden bridge. And then?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know. I’ve never been there before.”

  She blows out her cheeks. “So it’s a case of the blind leading the blind?”

  “No, it’s a case of the man with the map leading the woman without a clue.” I roll up the leather sheet and return it to my pack. “Let’s eat a sandwich and get some sleep. Tomorrow’s going be a tough day.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  LIA

  Tomorrow’s going be a tough day. Seth MacNeil, King of the Understatement. I shove my backpack off the bed, peel back the covers, and climb into the softest bed I’ve ever had the opportunity to spend the night in. If only the circumstances were different….

  “Comfy?” Seth’s long limbs dangle over the ends of the two-seater sofa.

  I prop myself up with my elbow. “This is ridiculous. It’s a big bed and we’re both adults. Surely we can each keep to our own side?”

  He snorts with laughter. “After that kiss in the hallway? Not a chance.”

  “I’m serious. I need you to be in top form tomorrow. Sleep in the damn bed.”

  He hesitates but only for a moment. “You sure?”

  “Yes. We can fight about politics. That should keep us well away from one another.”

  “A topic guaranteed to sour both our moods.” He flashes me a sardonic smile and pads across the room to the other side of the four-poster.

  “Why don’t I take the first shot?” I say after he’s settled in the bed. “Why do you think the Fianna are better than the Druids? The latter ruled by mind control. You rule by force. I’m no more free today than I was back then.”

  “Bullshit. The Druids’ mind control experiments got you hooked on drugs. T
he Fianna’s zero tolerance policy got you clean.”

  “I’d like to give myself at least a little credit for turning my life around,” I say dryly. “Despite what you think, installing a telephone without a license is the closest I’ve come to consorting with the underworld in recent years.”

  “All I’m saying is that if the Druids hadn’t decided to try out their potions on innocent children, your life might have turned out very different, and our relationship might have stood a chance. You have to see that life is a lot better since my uncle took control.”

  This makes me laugh. “Do you seriously believe the bullshit you spout? What do you think is in the vitamin supplements your beloved Fianna distribute to the masses?”

  “Do you mean the ones distributed by the Council of Healers?” He sounds genuinely perplexed. “They’re just vitamins. We don’t want to drug anyone.”

  “Surely you aren’t that naive.”

  He sighs and rubs the back of his neck. “I’ve never claimed the Fianna are perfect, but we are doing our best. Thanks to our magic, we were less susceptible to the Druids’ drugs. It was our duty to step up when they turned the population into docile sheep. The people are weak and need guidance.”

  I fold my arms across my chest. “We’re not all weak.”

  “I’m speaking in generalities, but you know I’m right. You might have bounced back to full mental health but not everyone has been as lucky. It will take at least another generation to repair the damage done by those potions. We have to teach people to think and act for themselves before we stand a chance of establishing a democracy.”

  “And in the meantime, the Fianna will rule with an iron hand because the people are too weak to make decisions.” My voice is laced with derision. “All you’ve established over the last five years is a dictatorship. If you seriously believe Torin MacNeil will loosen the chains and form a democracy in a few years, you are delusional.”

  Seth stares at me for moment, then squeezes his eyes shut. “Nothing I say will convince you we’re not monsters, so what’s the point of this conversation? You can hate me all you like—and believe me, I’m not too fond of you at the moment—but we have to work together over the next couple of days.”