Please. Please, whatever dragon gods there are, don’t let her die.
I won’t. I love you.
I love you too.
And she was gone.
Chapter 26
While Tristan and Thorne were writing down what little he’d seen of the complex so far, and planning what to ask Mayah about next, Emon and Flynn were assembling their teams.
Flynn brought Kira, Xander, Sloan, Caitlyn and Tank.
Emon went back to his domain and returned with Trish and the three red dragons. They trailed into the Wild Dragons’ control room behind him—Mikah and Cazbek looking a little bit awed by their surroundings, and Zakerek being an asshole as usual.
“I can’t believe Princess Crazy got herself in trouble again,” he grumbled. “Somebody needs to get her knocked up or something, so she’ll stay put.”
Tristan moved to smash him against the wall and rip him a new one, but Emon blocked his way.
“Don’t pay any attention to him,” he said quietly. “When I went in there and told them Mayah was in trouble, he was the first one out of his chair. He cares, but he doesn’t know how to show it, so he acts like a dick.”
Xander looked up from the side table where he was chowing down on ribs. “Being a dick is a time-honored way of showing affection,” he said. “I do it all the time.”
Sloan smacked him on the back of the head. “We noticed. Mayah doesn’t need a dead squirrel covered in glitter right now, though.”
“Shit,” Xander said. “And I brought a really nice one with me. Are you saying I got the inside of my backpack all glittery for nothing?”
Emon put his hand on Tristan’s shoulder. They’re all behind you, he said in Tristan’s mind. They just show it in bizarre ways. His dragon added hopefully,
Tristan took a deep breath. Keep it together, he told himself. Keep it together just a little while longer. Thanks, he said to Emon and his dragon. I know everybody’s nervous.
And most of them are assholes, Kira put in. But they have good hearts.
Tristan knew that better than most. The red dragons had come to their rescue once before. And if he had to pick anyone to back him up in a bad situation, it was the Bad Blood Crew. His brothers and sisters.
“We’ve got your back,” Tank said, echoing his thoughts.
“Well, duh,” Xander said. “Always.”
“The whole damn crew wanted to come,” Flynn said. “But we had to draw the line.”
Tristan nodded. They had to keep the number of non-flying participants to a minimum. They needed all the dragons to transport the wolves out of there. As it was, Flynn and his team would have to get far enough away from the compound and its magical wards to make a dimensional doorway out, and travel back through the spirit world.
So aside from Kira, he’d had to be selective. Sloan was ex-Shifter Special Forces, trained in sharpshooting and explosives. Caitlyn had Shifter Intelligence training, Tank had the special powers of a Protector Bear, and Xander wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.
Tristan loved them all, and owed them more than he could ever say.
Tyr came in carrying a small vial. “It’s time to try Mayah again,” he said. “See if she has anything else for us.”
It had been four hours since the last time they talked to her, and in the intervening time Tyr had concocted a potion he thought would make reaching her easier. Tristan took it without arguing, though it tasted horrible.
At least it worked. Tristan reached Mayah without his brain threatening to explode.
She’d managed to talk to some of the wolves that had been there the longest. She’d been sifting through their memories, comparing what they told her, and now she repeated it all back to Tristan, including mental images.
Thorne and Rebel were in charge of collating the intel and turning it into a mission plan, assisted by Sloan, Kira and Flynn.
Through Tristan, they gave Mayah more questions to ask, more information to look for.
They tried again four hours later. They couldn’t reach her.
Tristan paced and growled for the next four hours, until they thought it was safe to try again. This time she was there.
She wouldn’t say what exactly had been going on when she didn’t answer. Just that there were people around.
Tristan wanted to bleed whoever was nearby.
We’re coming for you, he told her, as he had a dozen times already. Nothing’s going to happen to you.
I know, she said. I’ve told the wolves you’re coming—that the “dragonwolf” is finally coming for them. Did you know you’re the White Wolf Savior?
Seriously? You actually set me up as a savior?
Is that any way to say ‘thank you’ for me making you a superhero legend? I can make you a costume, too. One touch from me, and you’ll be Spandex from head to toe. You’re welcome.
She was so damn brave. All alone in captivity, and still making jokes.
He asked, Can you make me that Batman body armor, that makes me look super-buff? Like, more buff than Flynn or Tank?
Flynn, still lending his power along with Kira and Emon, gave an amused snort.
Sure, Mayah said. And a codpiece. You know. That thing that goes over your dick and makes it look like you have a giant boner all the time.
I do have a giant boner all the time. At least, I do when you’re with me.
Emon said, You know we can hear you, right?
Mayah ignored him. I’ll make your superhero outfit so it fits over the python in your pants.
Tristan clenched his jaw. He couldn’t make any more jokes. Not even to make her feel better.
I love you, he said.
Hey. Don’t worry. They won’t kill me. I’m too valuable.
He couldn’t stand it, that she was the one in prison, and she was comforting him.
I can’t lose you, he said. I can’t handle the thought of you getting hurt.
You’ll come for me, she said. And if I’m hurt, you’ll heal me. Together, we can do anything.
But they weren’t together. Not yet. He tried not to project that thought to her, but she seemed to hear it anyway.
We will be soon. I’ll be waiting. She paused. In the meantime, can you talk to my dragon? I don’t know if she can see what’s going on. I can’t feel her.
I’ll try. I love you. Stay strong.
I love you too.
Chapter 27
After some loud and near-violent discussion, they decided that Mayah’s intel was more important than talking to her dragon. Tristan was getting nosebleeds again, despite Tyr’s potions, and the headaches had stopped going away when he and Mayah weren’t connected. They just receded to a dull throb.
“We can’t risk missing vital intelligence because you’re passed out on the floor with your skull split like a dropped melon,” Thorne said. “After we get everything we can from Mayah, you can try reaching the beast.”
By that time, Tristan was past arguing. He was too busy trying to keep his head from falling off. And Thorne was right. Not only was the intel vital to saving Mayah, but all the “ghosts” as well.
Maybe even his parents.
He still wasn’t sure if he’d seen his mother, or if it was wishful thinking. All these years he’d been sure his parents were dead, had given their lives buying time for him and Terin to escape.
It was too much to think about. Too much to hope for.
And too much could still go wrong.
They talked to Mayah twice more, until she’d given them everything she could. Each time, she asked him if he’d talked to her dragon.
Soon, he promised.
You have to, she said. Please.
Why?
I don’t know. You just do.
So Tristan, head feeling like that melon Thorne talked about, lay down on the table one more time. This time to talk to the dragon—if he could find her.
For what seem
ed like forever, he wandered through dark stone caves and passages, where things rustled in the shadows, and he kept thinking he saw the gleam of eyes out of his peripheral vision.
His brain felt like mush—he couldn’t even call out.
Then, suddenly, he heard other voices calling out, through his mind. Deep, bell-like dragon voices.
Kira and Emon, reaching out with the Al-Maddeiri magic. Calling their sister’s dragon back from her hiding place.
Their voices picked him up, carried him along, refreshed some of the weariness in his soul.
And suddenly he was there.
The cavern was brighter now, dim blue-white globes floating through the air like bubbles. He could see Mayah’s dragon, as gorgeous and deadly as ever, her scales gleaming as the light passed over them. Her eyes were fixed on him, bright and green, with lightning in their depths.
All around the cavern were the same bulky shadows. Ghosts and memories.
“Hey, there,” he said. “How are you doing? Are you okay?”
The dragon seemed surprised at his question, and pleased.
Despite himself, Tristan grinned at the nickname. She added,
He nodded. “That’s pretty much how I feel. Do you know what’s been going on?”
The dragon dipped her huge head in acknowledgement.
Good to know. “Is she really okay, do you think?”
Tristan’s stomach unknotted just a tiny bit. “She told me to come speak to you. That it was important.”
The dragon said,
Um. What? “Excuse me?” he said, as politely as he could.
The dragon moved her head again, gesturing to encompass the room and the shadows it contained.
Suddenly, the cavern seemed to fill with smoke. All the shadows, the whole room full, swirled around until Tristan could hardly see. Then they gathered together in front of the dragon, condensing into a tighter and tighter ball, inky dark with just the hint of a bright light in the center.
The dragon blew on it, and it became encased in a translucent shield, like a tiny glass bubble about an inch in diameter. It floated over to Tristan, hovering in front of him.
The dragon sang one long, low note, and Tristan felt a metal chain materialize around his neck. The ball floated over and fastened itself to the chain.
“I thought that’s what we were doing.”
The dragon continued as if he hadn’t spoken.
Then her eyes widened, the lightning flashing more strongly.
Gray fog filled the cavern, and Tristan lost sight of the dragon. A wind took him, rushing him away, and he heard faintly,
And then he was back in the room, with half a dozen shifters staring down at him.
Tristan sat up, his hand going automatically to his chest. Around his neck was the chain and the glass ball, inky shadows still captured inside it, along with that elusive spark of light that might be real, or just a reflection.
“What the fuck is that?” Flynn asked.
“A gift from Mayah’s dragon. And no, I don’t know what it does. Apparently, I’m supposed to break it at some vital but unspecified moment.”
Flynn just shook his head. “Fucking dragons,” he muttered.
“Hey,” Cazbek said. “I resemble that remark.” He and Xander bumped fists.
“Anything else?” Thorne asked. “Anything useful?”
“Yeah,” Tristan said, getting off the table and wishing his head didn’t hurt quite so much. “They’ve drugged Mayah, and her dragon can’t sense her anymore. We have to do this thing now.”
Chapter 28
Mayah lay on the mattress in her cell, watching the walls go in and out, in and out, bulging and receding like the cell was breathing.
Maybe it was. Maybe she was in the belly of a monster. Maybe it was breathing, not her, and if it stopped, she’d stop too and die.
Or maybe this is just a very, very bad trip, she told herself. A little tiny unicorn came prancing out of the wall. It lifted its tail and pooped a rainbow of sparkles all over her.
She could feel them tickling her skin, and she kept trying to brush them off but they wouldn’t go, and she was all sparkly forever. She hoped Tristan liked sparkly girls.
The unicorn turned to an evil elf who gave her the finger, and then turned into a dancing one-eyed dick wearing an elf hat.
“I like Tristan’s dick better,” she told it, and it lost its erection and went limp. That made her laugh, and then she couldn’t stop.
She wished she could talk to Tristan again, but she couldn’t. She tried and tried, but she couldn’t reach him at all.
At least he knew where she was. And he was coming. Ha. Coming.
The door to her cell opened, and a man walked in. No, a dragon. That asshole dragon who’d trapped her here.
He stood over her and looked down at her. “You’re pathetic,” he said.
“You’re fucked up,” she answered, still lying back on her mattress. “You work for the bad guys. And I’m totally covered in poop sparkles. They tickle.”
He rolled his eyes.
He would have been sexy except for that permanent look on his face that said he wanted to bite someone’s head off. Like literally. But he had short tousled chestnut-brown hair and muscles and stuff, and maybe he wouldn’t have to bite anyone’s head to make it come off. He could probably just squeeze it against his bicep and pop it like a grape.
She held her hand up and looked at his head in between the thumb and forefinger. She squeezed them together to squish his head. It was fun so she did it again, and again.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he growled.
“I’m popping your head like a grape.” Mayah giggled.
He tapped the headset he was wearing. “Dr. Lin,” he said. “Your dosage is screwed up. She’s tripping her ass off. And I don’t sense her dragon.”
He waited while someone spoke to him, and then said, “Roger that.”
He sat down cross-legged next to her, and took her hand.
“You’re gonna get sparkled,” she warned.
He ignored her. “Come on,” he murmured. “Your dragon must be in there somewhere.”
“Nope,” she said. “All gone. Because of bad people. Like you. Bad dragon.”
“I’m not bad,” he murmured. “I’m trying to help you. Just relax and let me in.”
Uh-huh. Suuuure, buddy. This guy must have flunked Prisoner Coercion Basic Training if he thought she’d fall for that shit. Ragnor told her the same thing, and look how that worked out.
But she didn’t have Al-Maddeiri magic then. Now she did, because of Kira giving it all back to her. She might not be able to get out of here, but she could teach his evil traitor ass a lesson.
Mayah pretended to open the doors to her mind. When he took the bait and came in, looking cautiously around, she enticed him with a vision of Tristan riding in to rescue her with an army of pink shifter lions, shooting laser beams out of their eyes.
He followed the vision, looking for the truth underneath her hallucinations. Mayah waited for him behind a mental door, with a thought-sword made of laser-light and unicorn sparkles, and when she’d lured him in far enough she stabbed him in the head with it.
“Ow! Fuck!”
He dropped her hand and put both hands to his head, rocking back and forth. His nose
was bleeding from her brain-stab. Yesss.
“What the freaking hell was that?”
Mayah gazed up at him, eyes wide. “I told you to watch out for the unicorn sparkles.”
The bad dragon left, wiping his bloody nose and muttering into his headset about dosages and compliance. Mayah stared at the ceiling, trying to conjure up a real picture of Tristan.
To remember every single detail of his face, his hands, his lips. The way it felt when he touched her. How comforting it was to hear his voice in her mind.
But the images kept slipping away, and there was no one to talk to. She couldn’t reach Tristan, or even the other wolves.
And the next person who ever drugged her without her consent was going to get a lightning bolt right up their ass.
Some time later—maybe a long time, maybe not, time was weird here where the drugs were—the door opened again and a man came in.
A human. The most boring-looking human she’d ever seen. He was so nondescript that if she looked away and looked back, she probably wouldn’t be able to remember she’d seen him before.
She tried it. Look away. Look back. Nope, she could tell it was the same guy. Experiment fail.
“I’m sure you remember me,” he said. “I’m Mr. Johnson. We met in your brother’s castle.”
Shit. Experiment not a total fail. Because she had seen him only a few weeks ago, when he and his minions attacked the castle. And she hadn’t recognized him.
Drugs would do that. Or being boring-looking.
“You,” she told him, “are the boringest dude ever. You should try some of these drugs. Maybe they’d make you interesting.”
He gave her a thin smile. “I’ll pass, thank you. And you won’t be bored long. Get up.”
Mayah groaned theatrically. “Why?”
“Because your life is about to get a bit more interesting.”
Four guards came in, all armed with stun guns. They marched her down a hall and then outside, across a courtyard and into another building.
Mayah, before the drugs, had spent a lot of time building a plan of the complex in her mind. This was the central core that housed the power generators, the server room, and the artifact that powered the magical defenses.
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