A Dragon Speaks Her Name: A Nocturne Falls Universe story

by Kira Nyte

  The woman eyed Kaylae in a way that made her feel like some unseen air around her mind had been invaded and scanned. She caught a peculiar glimmer of silver in the woman’s otherwise chocolate-colored eyes that disappeared as quickly as it came.

  The woman’s brief mental summary floated along Kaylae’s thoughts, startling her. She had to be mistaken about what she’d heard.

  You need some serious sleep, girl, she thought. You’re on the verge of delirium.

  Kaylae ducked past the teller to the doors, making her escape as she hurriedly said, “Thanks for your help.”

  She didn’t dare look back at the building until she was safely locked in her car, engine humming and the gearshift in reverse. Her hands shook and her thoughts rolled like rocks in a tumbler.

  She was so distracted she almost didn’t see the pickup truck in time. She stamped down on the brake, barely stopping her car as the truck passed behind her. The driver honked but kept going. Kaylae took a deep breath, tried to steady her nerves, and backed out of the spot fender-bender free. At the first Stop sign, she located and programmed Pinehurst Inn into her phone’s GPS, and started toward the promise of a bed.

  Her drive did not prove peaceful. The teller’s parting thoughts taunted her the entire trip to the hotel.

  “A Keeper, are you? Where is your dragon?”

  Kaylae had a feeling Nocturne Falls was either going to help her make sense of everything that had happened, or she would be checking herself into the closest insane asylum for a mental evaluation.

  Chapter Two

  The laidback atmosphere of Howler’s was the exact opposite of how Zareh Lutherone felt as he walked into the local bar. Tension rode along his back and his neck in a faint, relentless throb that dimmed his vision. Not even the joint’s owner could muster a grin from him today. Bridget Merrow flashed him a smile and waved from her position at the bar. Her auburn hair was barely tamed in a ponytail as she pulled a beer from the tap and dropped the mug on the counter at his approach.

  “Zar, looks like you need it.”

  “Thanks, cuteness.” He dug out his wallet and laid a ten on the bar top. “How’s that wolf of yours?”

  “Working hard. You know, adjusting.” She winked one of her golden eyes, and tossed the bar rag she had balled up in her fist over her shoulder. “Still having trouble with some loose ends in Tennessee, but otherwise, he’s loving it here.”

  “Sure he’s not loving who is here?”

  Bridget laughed. “That’s a given.” She motioned to the room at the back of Howler’s where the pool tables were set up. “Alazar is about six games in and, if I’ve heard the whining correctly, a few hundred dollars lighter in the wallet. Better go save him before you lose your house.”

  Zareh saluted her with his mug, took a sip, and headed to the debacle that was his friend’s lack of control over all things shiny. A quick observation of the playing field told Zareh why.

  “One more round. Another hundred for that gold chain,” Alazar said. Zareh put up a hand, stopping the contender from agreeing. Alazar groaned. “Zar, I’ve got this.”

  “That’s not what I’ve heard.” He took a deep drink of his beer and placed it on the shelf next to the pool sticks. “You’d bet your car for that chain if I didn’t come when I did.”

  Zareh pulled a stick from the rack, rested the tip on the felted table, and rolled it back and forth. Straight, solid, and surely a winner.

  “I wouldn’t go that far.”

  Zareh lifted a brow. “Really? Need I remind you of the time…”

  “Hey, hey.” Alazar tossed up his hands. “I was plastered.”

  “You were foolish and I had the pleasure of listening to you complain about that loss for a month.” Zareh removed his wallet again and looked up at the shifter waiting for him to state his bet. The man’s eyes gleamed with the prospect of a new gain and a new win. “How much has he lost to you?”

  “Three hundred.”

  Zareh pulled out four crisp hundred-dollar bills and laid them on the edge of the table. The shifter’s lips curled up in a greedy smile.

  “One game of eight-ball. The three he lost and the gold chain if I win. Otherwise, you’ll be four hundred dollars richer than you are now.”

  “I like you.” The shifter unfastened the thick gold chain around his neck and placed it on top of the bills. He dug out the cash he’d won from Alazar and tucked it under the chain. “Let’s rack ’em and sack ’em.”

  Zareh hadn’t come to Howler’s to win back Alazar’s pitiful losses, but it would be a great outlet to prepare him to face the full impact of the dreadful news that had driven him to the comfort of the bar. He racked the balls and rolled the cue ball across the felt to the shifter at the other end of the table.

  “Good luck, my friend,” the shifter said, positioning the ball and taking his first shot. Zareh leaned on his stick as he watched three balls fall into pockets, two stripes, one solid. “Ah, stripes it is.”

  Zareh cast Alazar a relaxed glance, one that didn’t match his friend’s apprehension as he watched the shifter set up for another successful shot. That was the difference between them. Zareh knew when to fret over things. This was nothing to fret over.

  His discovery? That was something to fret over. No, it was panic-worthy.

  His challenger groaned as his third shot missed the pocket by a hair. Zareh snickered, half tempted to offer the guy another go. Unfortunately, he really couldn’t waste time toying with him. He surveyed the set-up, picked his first hit, and played.

  A few minutes later, he lined up the cue with the eight ball and pocketed his win.

  “What just happened, man? How’d you do that?”

  Zareh collected his winnings, handing the three hundreds and the chain to Alazar. His friend’s eyes widened in glee as he nuzzled the gold.

  “I’m not at liberty to share my secrets. Otherwise, you might win next time.” Zareh held out his hand and the shifter shook, despite his dismal frown. “Sorry I arrived when I did, but that chain made my friend a very happy fire-breather.”

  Alazar nodded. “Oh, yes, it did. Can’t wait to add it to my collection.”

  “We’ll play again,” the shifter promised. He hung up his stick and disappeared into the front of Howler’s, shoulders slumped.

  Zareh turned to his friend and snorted, a thin curl of smoke escaping his nostrils. “Al, you really need to get your hoarding obsession under control. I don’t like digging into my accounts to pay for your frivolous losses.”

  His friend purred like a cat on a dryer.

  He sounds like a big cat with a sore throat.

  Zareh grabbed his beer and motioned to a booth situated away from the growing lunch crowd. Alazar settled on the bench seat across from him, took a deep breath of the gold, and tucked it into a pocket of his jacket. His goofy grin remained.

  “The only thing in this world that can make you look and act like a child is gold.” Zareh chugged back the rest of his beer and slid the empty mug to the end of the table. “Emeralds would be better. They’re not as accessible. Might save you a few grand a year.”

  “You need to get a hobby.”

  “Shooting pool to win back your losses is my hobby.” Zareh tried to lighten his sullen mood with the familiar friendly argument, but not even the weak jabs could bring him out of his funk. “And not by choice.”

  A server came by with a new mug of beer for Zareh. He shot Bridget a glance of thanks and earned a wink before she turned her attention to wolf-shifter Sam Kincaid—boyfriend extraordinaire, and a man with a story that could turn a listener on his or her head. He placed his order for a high-octane grease meal with a side of fries. He would be breathing plenty of fire in the near future. Might as well fuel up.

  “I’ll take the cheeseburger, one-pounder with all the fixings, and a bourbon and soda,” Alazar chimed in, his childish demeanor finally dripping away. When the server left to place their orders, Alazar leaned his elbows on the table and hunched for
ward. “I know you’ve been itching to deliver some news. What’s going on?”

  “You know Cade sent me to check up on Talius.” Cade Fenryn oversaw their dwindling Firestorm tatsu clan, or dragon clan. “Well, worst fears confirmed—Talius was attacked.”

  “Don’t tell me…”

  Zareh cupped his mug with both hands. A dangerous burn began to rise from deep in his chest. He took a swig of the cool drink to extinguish the flame created by his dragon.

  “Trust me, Al. I really don’t want to tell anyone what I learned.” Or saw, for that matter. Speaking of the scene would make the nightmare real. “Talius and Herald are dead. The only evidence left behind was this.”

  He reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a twisted round medallion etched with a fire-laced sword.

  “The Baroqueth slayers,” Alazar hissed. A flash of fire erupted in his amber eyes. A hint of deep red scales traced along his hairline before fading again.

  Zareh had experienced the same fury, but his dragon had made a fierce showing before he regained control. It had left half of Talius’s house in ashes.

  “Zar, I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine what you’re going through. I know you’ve missed him since we’ve been forced to separate from our Keepers.”

  Zareh sighed. He found a slight comfort in a gulp of beer.

  “The Baroqueth haven’t surfaced in over three decades. What do you suspect would bring them out of hiding now?”

  Zareh shrugged. He’d been turning that question over in his mind since finding the medallion. “I’ve no idea.”

  “What about your jewel?”

  “I couldn’t locate it. I checked in both hiding spots and it was nowhere to be found.”

  “You don’t suspect they found it, do you? That wouldn’t be good for you, or any of us.”

  “No.”

  That much, he was certain of. If the Baroqueth had his jewel, he’d have felt the draw of power from the jewel by now. It contained a drop of his blood, a binding between the powers of the jewel and loyalty to his Keeper. Talius’s death tore into him deeper than he cared to acknowledge. The last massive hunt for Keepers and their dragons brought devastating loss to their tatsu clan and nearly wiped out the Keepers. It had driven Cade and the leader of the Firestorm breed’s Keepers to agree to the drastic measure of splitting up dragons and Keepers in hopes of bringing less attention to themselves. The separation allowed the Keepers to hide among the humans and skirt attack from the Baroqueth.

  The Keepers weren’t the only ones in hiding. The clan dispersed across the country. Zareh and Alazar moved from city to city until finally landing in Nocturne Falls a little over a year ago. Despite their taste for all things expensive, Zareh and Alazar decided on a small four-bedroom house on Crossbones Drive. It was not what the Baroqueth would expect, since it lacked the luster dragons usually went for. A plus with this house? Their neighbor was a gargoyle, and his fiancée a woman of fae descent with a knack for jewelry.

  She became Alazar’s secret best friend. Secret, because the “best” was a one-way road on Alazar’s part. He didn’t care to butt heads with the gargoyle, and Zareh was pleased about that. He rather liked Nick and Willa.

  “The jewel is still sleeping. My Keeper was murdered a little over a week ago. The Baroqueth wouldn’t wait that long to tap into the jewel’s powers and track me down if they had it.”

  “Well, where do you think it is?”

  “If I knew, I’d have the darn thing already.” Zareh quieted as the server delivered their meals. Zareh picked a fry up off his plate and chomped on the greasy deliciousness. His stomach grumbled. “If anything happened to Talius, we agreed on two places where the jewel would be, and it was in neither. Herald is dead, too, so he can’t tell me where it might be. I don’t know where else Talius would’ve hidden the jewel.”

  “Did Herald have a kid?”

  “Nope.” He picked up the massive cheesesteak sandwich and bit off a sizable piece. His dragon grumbled with delight. He hadn’t eaten a good meal since Cade asked him to follow up on Talius. This was downright sinful. With his mouth still partially full, he added, “Gotta find my jewel.”

  “I’m sure Cade is looking. If that jewel falls into Baroqueth possession, we’re all screwed.”

  “And I’m at the front of the line.”

  “We need you. Losing you would be like losing the support beam keeping the eight of us standing. You’re second oldest, next to Cade.”

  “Don’t remind me. I like to think that my age doesn’t matter in respect for my life. Besides”—he popped another fry into his mouth—“I’m not ready to die.”

  “That’s reassuring. At least I won’t be tracking you to some bridge and begging you to rethink the jump. Do you have a plan to locate your jewel?”

  Zareh had pondered that a few times over the last couple of days. The logical answer would be to enlist Willa. With her fae affinity for stones and jewels, surely she could aid his cause. Or he could beg a favor from one of the witches in Nocturne Falls. However, the more he talked about himself to others outside the clan, the greater the chance of the Baroqueth honing in on him and Alazar.

  As it stood, their limited circle of friends in Nocturne Falls didn’t know the truth of their lineage. Sure, they knew he and Alazar were fire dragons, but the actual breed? No. That was a secret held close to their hearts. He and Al picked up random handyman jobs to keep themselves busy. Neither could dare to hold down a permanent position without questions arising about their background. They lived off their hoards and their personal inheritances. Firestorm dragons never suffered from monetary want.

  Few dragons wanted for anything.

  The gypsy life was wearing on Zareh. He missed The Hollow. He missed the freedom of their magical world, where he could soar into the sky and stretch his wings without fear of being seen by humans. Summer months in the human world brought storms to the mountains, and with those storms, the freedom to play with his fire without drawing unwanted attention from mortals.

  He missed the calm of that old life before the war. He missed the promise of a possible future and younglings.

  Alazar snapped his fingers in front of Zareh’s face. “Zar. Heel, boy.”

  Zareh grunted. “Wrong animal.”

  “Worked, didn’t it?”

  “I’m lacking a wagging tail, a hanging tongue, and lots of fur.” He preferred his scales and armor over a cuddly puppy coat any day. He went back to devouring his meal. “I’ll talk to Nick. See if Willa can’t help in some way without letting word get out about us.”

  “They know we’re dragons.”

  Zareh turned narrowed eyes on Alazar. His friend stirred the ice in his bourbon with his pinky, his deep-brown dragon talon partially extended.

  “The tatsu name is not known, nor will it be. With eight of us left, most paranormals think we’re a thing of fairytales and fire-pit stories. Let’s keep the spotlight away from us until we find the Baroqueth and deal with them appropriately.”

  Until I retrieve my jewel and secure my clan’s safety.

  Chapter Three

  Kaylae shrieked, leaping onto the bed to avoid the mammoth roach that scurried across the carpet. Her stomach jolted in disgust and her arms took on an unfashionable bumpy look. She shuddered, her eyes glued to the mutant bug until it disappeared into the bathroom.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  At least she had already taken a shower in the less-than-desirable stall. One of the provided towels had acted as a mat on the stall floor. The other barely dried her hair, leaving her to pull on a fresh set of clothes over damp skin.

  Not fun. Next time a place was not recommended, she’d heed the warning.

  “This is not New York. You roaches shouldn’t be as big as sewer rats.”

  She didn’t want to turn away from the bathroom in case her unwanted roomie decided to come back out and be friendly. Her car was looking better by the minute, bed be damned. If it meant she’d wake
up with her eyelashes intact and not nibbled down to the quick, she’d sacrifice the bumpy mattress.

  “Maybe I should check into one of those B-and-Bs in town. I have enough cash to enjoy one night in comfort.”

  Kaylae shook her head and frowned. Talking to herself was not unusual, but she certainly had taken to self-discussions more since this nightmare started.

  “And you’re talking to a roach. Sweet heavens.” She moved to the head of the bed and tested the rickety nightstand with one foot. “How many of your friends are here with you?”

  Finding the questionable piece of furniture sturdy enough to hold her weight, she climbed up, shifting the lamp onto the mattress and trying not to kick the bedside phone onto the floor. Her purse was on the plain round table tucked in a little alcove beside the nightstand, but hell if she was putting her bare feet on that carpet after seeing that creature.

  She had no intention of losing toenails to hungry roaches any more than she was willing to sacrifice her eyelashes.

  With a little dexterity, she managed to get her purse off the table and return to the bed without a fall. Her duffel bag was easier to reach off the old dresser at the foot of the bed. Keeping an eye on the bathroom door, she ran a brush through her wet hair and tied it back in a ponytail. She had no makeup, not that she wore much even when she had the leisure to use it, but if she was going to explore this town, she was hoping to do so looking a little more presentable than she had at the bank.

  Her stonewashed dark blue jeans and asymmetrical winged shirt would have to do. Maybe she could pick up a few outfits at one of the boutiques. The sense of dread that pulled at her mind since her escape from the bank refused to leave her. She was willing to take anything positive and distracting enough to buffer the impending blow.

  Tugging on a pair of ankle booties and her jacket, she sighed and slid off the bed.

  “I don’t expect to see you when I return,” she said loudly in the direction of the bathroom. “I enjoy sleeping alone.”