Charred Tears (#2, Heart of Fire) (9 page)

Its attention went to the other tiger, which was rapidly expanding in size.

“I’m going down the hall and will be right back,” she continued, easing towards the doorway. “No more messes.”

The tiger bared its teeth at her but didn’t otherwise object.

Skylar didn’t release her breath until she was in the hallway, halfway to the front door. She tucked the tiger in her hand into her pocket for later and shook out her shoulders.

Shifters really stress me out.

With a deep breath, she glanced towards the door leading to the waiting SUV and then turned her back on it to follow the blood trail.

Heart fluttering hard, she paused in front of the door where the maroon droplets led and pushed it open. A fan was on in the ornate ceiling of the private study, the only movement. There were no books in Caleb’s private office, just more figurines. They were lined up on shelves that ran along the walls. There was even one on his desk, separated from the rest in a round, glass container.

There were dozens.
Hundreds
of shifters in here.

She stared around her, overwhelmed by the idea that each of the figurines was alive. Dormant and tiny but living.

What was Caleb doing with all of them?

She went farther into the study, almost reaching the desk on the far side before spotting the first sign of what happened there earlier. Blood pooled under one side of the desk. Suspecting what she’d find, Skylar circled the desk with growing dread and stopped.

“Oh, Caleb.” If the amount of blood wasn’t a giveaway of Caleb’s condition, then his ashen skin and blue lips were.

Skylar knelt beside his body, struggling to determine what exactly happened. She and Mason hadn’t been separated that long, maybe ten minutes. She hadn’t heard any raised voices or sounds of furniture crashing around while in the library.

They’d all been trained to kill and fight. The sight of blood disturbed her only because it belonged to someone she’d know for years. She looked over his wounds expertly.

There were five neat, long slashes down his chest and his throat was torn out. Whatever knife Mason used had sliced easily through Caleb’s ribcage; the bones jutting out were smooth with no signs of sawing or chopping or hacking. She frowned.

“It looks like an animal attack,” she said to herself, thoughts on the figurine in her pocket. The tiger in the library was huge – but its claws weren’t large enough to inflict the damage in front of her.

A little queasy with the amount of blood, she rose in time to see someone enter.

“Dillon!” she exclaimed.

He seemed just as surprised, his dark eyes settling on her face.

“Skylar?” he asked. “I thought some shifter grabbed you.”

By the normal resentment in his tone, she guessed he didn’t yet know she was standing over the body of his dead father.

“Yeah. Listen, Dillon, I need to tell you something,” she said, pitying her ex. He was an ass, but Caleb was still his father.

“What’re you doing here?” he demanded. “Where’s my father?”

“Well … he’s kind of dead.”

Dillon stopped midstride and stared at her.

“I mean, he
is
dead.”
Way to be sensitive, Sky!
She cursed at herself silently, uncertain what to do.

His look turned to one of disbelief. He started forward again.

“I’m so sorry, Dillon,” she said. “We came hear earlier, and I didn’t realize …”

His gaze was riveted to the puddle of blood near her feet. He grew pale beneath his olive skin, his breath catching audibly.

Skylar’s heart hurt for him. She didn’t fault him for pushing her aside and watched him drop to the ground beside Caleb. Dillon rested his ear to his father’s chest.

“Why are you just standing there?” he yelled. “Call 911.”

“Dillon … um, it’s too late for that.”

He looked at her blankly. Skylar felt tears form at the sight of her bewildered friend. Yes, they’d broken up and had a rocky friendship since then, but there was a part of her that still cared for the man she’d dated for several months and trained with for a few years.

He sat back.

“I am so sorry, Dylan,” she said, resting a hand on his shoulder.

He pushed her hand away. For a moment, he was so still, she wondered if he’d passed out in place.

“This is my fault.” His voice was hoarse.

“No, Dillon!” she exclaimed and dropped to her knees beside him. “I don’t know what happened, but I can promise you, we’ll figure it out.”

“If I hadn’t killed Chace, you wouldn’t have killed my father,” Dillon continued, not hearing her in his state.

“Wait, what?” she asked. “I thought …”
Gavin claimed to kill Chace.
“You, uh, couldn’t have killed Chace.”

“Why? Because I wasn’t good enough for you to stay with and he was?” Dillon turned his accusing gaze to her. “Why did you do this, Sky? Why couldn’t you leave my father out of this?”

Oh, shit.
A flare of madness was in Dillon’s gaze, and she had the sense that the man she knew was at least temporarily too emotional to be present.

“I didn’t do this, Dillon,” she said in a calm, quiet voice. “I wouldn’t do this. Not to get back at you for … whatever. Not for any reason.”

“That’s exactly why you did it!”

“You didn’t kill Chace, Dillon. Okay. Let’s start there. And I didn’t –“

“I slashed his head open and left him for dead in a place where he couldn’t have survived the night.”

She stopped, a tremor of uncertainty piercing her confidence. Whereas her father had been vague in his claim about killing Chace, Dillon was the opposite.

She didn’t want to feel anything for the man who betrayed her, and yet fear shot through her at the thought of losing him for good. She realized what it was about the dragons she’d freed that engaged her the most: the idea that maybe, just maybe, one of them was going to be Chace.

It was a foolish, stupid thought, one that left her frustrated and yearning.

“Chace isn’t dead,” she whispered. “I know it.”

“He’s as dead as my father.” Dillon stood and leaned over the body to reach the drawers in the desk. He fumbled to open one, shaking. “As dead as you’ll be soon, too, Sky!”

“Let’s not be hasty,” she said and stood. She reached into her pocket to grab the figurine and started counting silently.

Dillon straightened. He waved a pistol around.

Skylar backed away, towards the door.

“Come on, Dillon, you know I’m not capable of killing your father!” she said. “Just like I know you didn’t kill Chace.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” he replied. “It was a pleasure to kill that dragon shifting asshole.”

“You’re right about asshole. But you wouldn’t do that. You
couldn’t.
I mean, he’s a dragon!”

“Not anymore. He was human when I saw him last.” Dillon took aim with the gun.

The fear in her gut was growing. It was cold, and she was close to panicking. The tiger was twisting and turning in her hand. She tossed it behind a chair nearby.

“I stabbed him in the side then smashed his head in and left.”

Anger spiked within her at the idea of someone hurting her dragon.

“I don’t believe you,” she said firmly.

“Do you believe I’ve had surveillance on you since you met him? That I didn’t know you were fucking him?”

“Yeah, so? I fucked you, too.”

“You left me. Dad told me not to get involved with someone like you. He had no idea you were strong enough to kill him!”

“Where did you leave Chace?” she asked. The tiger she’d woken up was growing fast enough, it’d catch his attention, if she didn’t keep him focused on her.

“Somewhere where you’ll never find his body.” By the look of triumph on his face, he was telling the truth.

Skylar swallowed hard, unable to calm the clamoring instincts and panic inside her. If Chace died then …

… what? It wasn’t like they were even really dating.

I’m the other half of his heart.
Her mother had said as much in a dream, claimed she had to protect the dragon that was hers.

Loud gunfire jarred her from her emotions. The bullet whizzed by her ear and made the wall behind her explode in a small puff of drywall.

“Look, Dillon. I’m sorry about us and sorry about your father. But I didn’t –“

Another shot grazed by her other ear. She looked quickly to the tiger growing on one side of the room. It had just reached the size of the settee she’d thrown the figurine behind.

“- I came to find Mason. I think he and your father got into an argument of some sort and this is what happened.”

“I know Mason wouldn’t hurt my father.”

“And I would?” she asked, exasperated. “Listen to reason, Dillon!”

A third shot went just over her head. It was followed by a roar.

Dillon whirled to face the massive tiger shaking off its long sleep on one side of the study. It focused on her first then on Dillon. The hair at the back of its neck stood up. A growl much more threatening than the one she’d heard from the other tigers filled the study.

“Okay, just calm down, Dillon, kitty,” she said.

The tiger responded by crouching, ready to pounce, while Dillon’s arm wavered between pointing the gun at her and the creature.

“We can be civilized here. No need for –”

“Fuck you, Skylar!” Dillon’s aim returned to her, and he fired.

Skylar didn’t have time to move. Fire pierced her shoulder, followed by a flash of hot agony as the bullet grazed her.

The tiger launched at Dillon.

Skylar turned and ran. She was a few steps down the hallway when she realized the study had gone utterly silent. No sounds of desperate gunfire from Dillon, no gnashing of tiger teeth as it ripped him a part.

She gripped her wounded shoulder, listening hard.

Nothing.

Easing back, Skylar peered around the corner into the study. Her mouth dropped open.

The tiger was in two pieces. Dillon, however, stood over his father, unscathed. As she watched, he knelt to Caleb’s side again.

What could tear a cat that size in half?

Skylar didn’t want to find out.

Something bizarre is going on here
. She tiptoed away then ran when she reached the hallway leading to the library.

The two tigers were prowling around the library. They’d gathered up the figurines into one pile and were yanking books off the shelves and tossing them across the room.

“You all need to leave. Fast,” she hissed at them. “Something bigger than both of you is in the house. So … go.” She waved them towards the door.

After a pause, the two tigers strolled through the doorway into the hall.

“Straight down the hall then to your right,” she told them.

They at least started down the hallway, and she ducked back into the library to the pile they’d created.

She didn’t have enough room in her pockets for all the figurines. After a brief hesitation, Skylar yanked off her long-sleeved shirt. She straightened the T-shirt she’d worn beneath it and then quickly pushed or dropped figurines into her makeshift satchel.

One of the tigers roared down the hallway, and she froze. The sound that came in response to the challenge was just as unexpected: a combination of a bellow and a squawk. It rattled the windows of the library.

“I need someone who can fly,” she said, sorting through the figurines. She recognized many of the creatures but some she didn’t at all. With no time to explore the unusual creatures, she plucked up one. “Pegasus. Awesome.”

The sounds of battle between the tigers and whatever was down the hall made her want to avoid it. She carefully gathered her shifters and wrapped them securely in the shirt. Skylar scooped up the ones that fell out of her makeshift carrier and put them into her pocket. She’d grabbed as many as she had time and room for then quickly shoved the rest under a couch, praying it was enough protection for the statues.

With the winged horse in her hand, she crossed to the window and opened it, stepping over the sill to the ground outside.

“Skylar!” Dillon shouted.

Quickly closing the window, Skylar ran down the length of the house and slid around a corner, squeezing the Pegasus in her hand.

“Come on,” she whispered, impatiently counting to ten. “Grow fast!”

It wriggled in her hand. She set it down, holding her breath and listening for sounds of pursuit. A peek around the corner eased some of her concern. The two tigers were racing down the driveway, towards the road.

“Look both ways before crossing, kitties,” she whispered. “Don’t eat anyone.”

Dillon and whatever creature was in the house were nowhere in sight.

Skylar returned her attention to the Pegasus. It came up to her knee, and she waited expectantly for it to grow.

It didn’t. The white foal with cream wings bucked and kicked playfully, spinning in circles, hovering briefly on long wings, then collapsing to the ground only to pick itself up again.

“Why aren’t you growing?” she hissed at it.

Its ears flickered back and forth, its large eyes on her.

“You’re a baby Pegasus, aren’t you?” Skylar sighed. “Dammit! I need a ride.”

The animal sat on its haunches, wings out on either side. It was far too small to carry her.

The strange squawking sound came again, this time outside the house. It sounded like it was around back.

Hunting her.

Skylar shifted the t-shirt full of figurines to one hip, grimacing at the pain that shot through her injured shoulder in response. She strode forward, snatching up the playful Pegasus and holding it on her other hip. She bolted around the front of the house to the waiting SUV, going as fast as she could with the foal in one arm and bulging shirt in the other.

Her ride was unlocked, and she yanked the driver’s door open, tossing first the t-shirt then the foal into the passenger seat. She slid into the driver’s seat and locked the doors immediately before fishing out the keys.

The Pegasus was tugging on the seatbelt, intrigued by the way it snapped back into place when it let go.

“Stop it!” Skylar snapped. “Sit down and get ready for a rough ride.” She pulled her seatbelt on and started the truck, putting it into gear fast and tearing out of the driveway.