Dragon Storm (Dawn of the Dragon Queen Book 2) (8 page)

He said nothing as he shriveled beneath her glare like a delicate flower beneath the heat of the Texas sun. The quivering of his limbs confirmed her worst fears.

He knew this would happen. He knew!

Fiona fell to her knees, stretching a hand toward the distant shoreline as she let out a mournful wail. “Oh, my child. My sweet daughter. Where are you?” She buried her face in her hands, sobbing as the realization hit her. Her only reason for living was lost to her.

Why hadn’t Josef told her this would happen? Flames of rage shot through her skull, and she fought the urge to transform and burn him to a crisp.

She sprang to her feet, screaming as she rushed the old man and shoved him into a rocking chair. “How could you?!”

He grabbed the sides of the chair with whitened knuckles, but much to Fiona’s surprise, he did not flinch. “I warned you it was dangerous magic.”

She punched the air with her fist. “Why didn’t you tell me I’d lose my daughter, too?”

Josef heaved a long sigh, coursing bony fingers through thinning hair. “You were going to lose her either way, mi reina. You plan to kill my grandson. The only way you can kill him is if you kill Safina first.”

Fiona jerked back. Where had Josef conjured such a foolish notion? “I would never harm my child.”

“His immortality is tethered to his mate. How else would he know your wrath unless you killed your daughter?”

Josef could have struck her chest with a mallet, and it would have had the same effect. “I wouldn’t have harmed Safina. I would have brought her back to our shell, or I would have made you sever their bond.”

“You would subject her to an eternity of sorrow and force her to part from her mate?” Josef shook his head as he fell back in his chair. “I know you find this hard to believe, but my grandson has a kind, compassionate soul. I can promise you, he wouldn’t have run away with your daughter if he didn’t love her, and I know Safina loves my Gabriel, too.”

The barb of Josef’s words sank deep, piercing Fiona’s heart with cruel clarity. She hadn’t counted on Gabriel loving Safina or of Safina returning his love. Safina was just an infatuated child, giving her heart carelessly to the first mortal who showed her attention, and Gabriel, well, he was a man, and men weren’t to be trusted.

But what if Josef’s words were true? What if Gabriel did have a compassionate soul? What if they loved each other? Would Fiona have been cruel enough to separate them? To force her daughter to play out the same heartbreak she’d suffered for the past five hundred years.

Fiona recalled the last night she’d seen Safina. She had dismissed Safina’s affection for Gabriel and threatened to send her back to the cocoon. She’d even gone so far as to strike her child. Why? Was she truly afraid Safina would lose her heart to an underserving mortal? Or was Fiona more afraid of losing her daughter’s love and attention? The thought of Safina nestling in the arms of a loving embrace other than hers soured Fiona’s stomach.

Fiona fell into a chair beside Josef, burying her face in her hands. It was not Safina’s heart Fiona had been trying to protect but her own. She’d let her jealousy and hatred of a man come between her and her daughter, and now she may have lost Safina forever.

Oh, great goddess! I am a selfish monster.

“I have made a mess of things,” she cried, her chest rising and falling with convulsions. “I have no mother, no mate, and no child. I have nothing left to live for.”

“Have faith, mi reina.” Josef placed a comforting hand on her back, a kindness she did not deserve. “I know they will come back. Gabriel loves his family, and your daughter loves you.”

Fiona looked at him through a sheen of tears. “Of that, I’m not so sure.”

Fiona could not forget how she’d so foolishly slapped Safina or the pained look in her daughter’s eyes as her pale cheek swelled with the angry imprint of her hand. And Fiona remembered with heartbreaking clarity the words that had followed. “I hate you,” Safina had said before running away.

Looking back at the way Fiona had treated her child, she knew with every fiber in her being Safina had spoken the truth.

A dragon’s word is her honor.

D
uncan jumped from the train, putting as much distance between himself and the steaming locomotive as possible. He had enough reasons to sweat in this stifling Galveston air. He did not need another. Heat flamed his face and chest. He was angry with himself for foolishly missing the earlier departure. It was nearly nightfall—too late to form a search party for his daughter. She would be all alone in the open sea until morning unless she transformed into a dragon and flew to land. But then what would happen to her if she was spotted?

He checked his pocket watch. The hour was late. He’d need to find accommodations and start his search in the morning. He grumbled when he knocked over a piece of luggage. The pain jarred his leg, forcing him to limp toward a bench as his knee swelled. He was still not accustomed to such pain. And with this new pain came a new fear—if his wounds wouldn’t heal, he was no longer immortal. For centuries he’d defied death. He’d been shot in the chest, scalped, and even beheaded. Each time his injuries magically healed. And now a simple piece of luggage had the power to cripple him. He was in a sad state, and Duncan feared his predicament would only get worse.

He jolted upright at the piercing sound of a feminine scream. “Help! Help me, please!”

Instinctively, Duncan ignored his throbbing knee as he raced toward the sound. He knew he put his life at risk, but fool that he was, he was unable to ignore a cry for help.

He came upon them in an alley behind a noisy saloon. A tall, reedy man with a crooked hat and a tapered moustache used a cane to press a woman against a wall. She flailed and gagged while he held the cane against her neck, cutting off her air.

“Let her go!” Duncan bellowed.

The woman crumpled to the ground as the man released her and spun around.

“Leave us be.” He eyed Duncan with a sneer. “This isn’t your fight.”

“A brute attacking a defenseless woman?” Duncan took a step forward, balling his hands. “I’d say it just became my fight.”

“Defenseless woman?” He tossed back his head and laughed, heedless of the hat that slipped off his head. “You mean a two-penny, thieving whore?” He waved at the woman, whose chest heaved while she gasped for air. “She ransacked my apartment.”

The woman’s brown hair was disheveled, and her dark, smeared face paint made her look part raccoon. Already, the welts across her neck were starting to darken. She couldn’t have been older than twenty-five, yet the lines around her mouth and eyes indicated a life of hardship. She kept a stony gaze focused on her assailant as she slowly rose to her feet. “You owed me money.”

She stepped away from him, but he blocked her with the cane and jerked her to his side.

He eyed her coolly. “You didn’t finish the job.”

Duncan cautiously closed the distance between them. “Sir, unhand that woman, and we will get to the bottom of this misunderstanding as gentlemen.”

The man looked at Duncan with a predatory gleam in his eyes. Duncan had lived long enough to recognize this man was calculating the risks of an attack.

“Come now,” the man said as he dug into her arm, causing her to cry out. “You really don’t want to lose your life over a gutter slut.”

Duncan slowly slipped a hand beneath his belt, fingering the hilt of his blade. Though he hadn’t needed its protection since the last gold rush, he was glad to have it now. “I’m not going to tell you again to let her go.”

The woman turned up her chin, putting on a brave face, though her lower lip trembled. “You heard the man, Dr. Straw. Do as he says.”

Dr. Straw? This brute was a healer? Most doctors Duncan had known were respectable and genuinely concerned over the welfare of others. Over the past five centuries, Duncan had gotten pretty good at discerning the measure of a man, but this man, despite his position, had no more scruples than a common crook.

After he released his grip on the woman, she cursed him while rubbing her arm.

“Very well.” The doctor flashed a wide grin, one that didn’t match the cold void in his emotionless eyes. “Perhaps we can discuss this as gentlemen.” He stepped forward, holding out a hand.

Suspecting this was a ruse, Duncan warily eyed the doctor, keeping a grip on the blade.

The doctor whipped his cane so fast, Duncan had no time to react. Duncan’s blade went flying across the alley, landing with a
clank
against the brick wall. He cursed as blood spewed from his wrist, then blocked the cane as the doctor tried to strike him a second time.

He yanked the cane hard enough that Dr. Straw lost his grip, nearly falling on his face as he tried to retrieve it. The doctor swore when Duncan spun it around and whacked him across the nose. Dr. Straw held his bloody nose and backed up before taking off at a run in the other direction. Duncan thought about chasing him down, but a pain in his gut prevented him from moving. He looked down at the widening bulls-eye of crimson that seeped into his white shirt and then he looked at the cane in his grip. Why had he not noticed before that a blade protruded from one end?

Duncan placed a hand on his gut and winced at the pain. More blood seeped between his fingers, and it felt as if the hole in his body was widening. His vision tunneled as he stared at his bloody hand. Somewhere in the distance, he thought he heard a woman screaming. He cursed himself for a fool. He’d come so close, and now he’d die before he was able to save Safina.

His knees weakened, his vision blackened, and he fell to the ground with Safina’s name on his lips.

* * *

Fiona did not how she found her way back to Mrs. Jenkens’s home, for she walked as if in a daze. How could she have been so careless, so blinded by her heartbreak, while completely ignoring her daughter’s needs? Now her sweet child was lost to her, possibly forever. What kind of a heartless mother was Fiona, that she’d driven Safina to seek solace in the arms of a man she hardly knew?

Fiona clutched the banister at the bottom of the stairs leading to the front porch, buckling as if she’d been punched in the gut. What if Josef was wrong? What if Gabriel didn’t love her daughter? Where had they gone? What if the mortals there discovered Safina’s secret? How would she protect herself from guns and cannons?

Fiona was so consumed in misery and worry, she didn’t see Dr. Straw approach her until it was too late to avoid him.

“Good evening, Miss Fiona.” He held a bloody cloth to his nose as he bowed before her with a regal, almost comical, sweep of his arm. “Forgive me, but I do not know you by any other name, and I have heard so much about you, I feel as if we should be on a first-name basis.” Despite the wheezing coming from his nose, his words slid off his tongue with the slippery ease of a skilled liar.

Fiona was no fool. She knew his sugary sweetness was laced with poison. “What do you want?” she growled, amazed her fingers didn’t itch to heal this man, but her fists did long to punch him. She wasn’t sure why the sight of him made her so angry. Call it dragoness intuition, but she suspected his injured nose had resulted from cowardice or aggression.

His eyes sharpened, but he broke into a wide smile, blood dripping down his cleft. “I suffered a slight misfortune tonight, and I am in need of a skilled healer.”

She crossed her arms with a sneer. “You should go to your hospital. They have modern medicine there.”

He appeared unfazed by her insult. “But I have heard your gift is far superior to that of modern medicine.”

“I’m sorry. I’m not healing anyone today.” She pushed past him. After the heartbreak she’d suffered, she was in no mood to deal with a snake oil charlatan. Bloody nose or not, she knew the real reason he’d come calling—to discover her healing secret, a secret she’d never divulge to the likes of him.

Much to Fiona’s surprise, he grabbed her elbow, jerking her toward him. “Please,” he pleaded with wide eyes. “I’m in so much pain. I can pay you handsomely.”

She shook free his grip, which was surprisingly strong for a man so thin. “I said no.”

He arched a brow. “I have fifty dollars that says you’ll change your mind.” He jingled coins in his pocket, coins which probably amounted to no more than a few cents. Fiona hadn’t yet learned how to read Galveston currency, but she could tell when she was being lied to; the man was unable to hold her gaze for more than a few seconds.

Fiona glared at him from beneath her lashes. “Please step away from me before I hurt you.”

A look of shock crossed his features, his cheeks turning as red as a crimson sunrise. “You hurt me?” He slapped his chest, laughing. “Believe me, madam, it is
you
who should be afraid of
me
.” He sneered as if she were no more significant than the grime beneath his boots. “You have no idea what I’m capable of. I’ve heard rumors you’ve been practicing witchcraft.” He said this loud enough to command the attention of passersby, who looked back at him with slackened jaws. He snapped his fingers. “I could have you thrown out of this town in a heartbeat.”

Fiona stepped up to him, flashing a coy smile. “Your nose is bruised, not broken, but your organs are failing, no doubt due to your penchant for drink.” She clucked her tongue while shaking her head. “You will not live another year.”

Despite the balmy Galveston air, which caused sweat to drip down her back and make her heavy dress cling to her like a second skin, Fiona shivered as a chill swept through her. The look of cold malice in his eyes was enough to turn her limbs to ice. “Witch,” he said on a low growl and latched onto her wrist with bruising strength, “you’ve just sealed your fate.”

Just then, Mrs. Jenkens’s hulk of a servant, Moses, pounded down the stairs with heavy boots. “Miss Fiona. My missus has been worried sick over you.” He waved her over to him. “Let’s get you inside.”

Fiona was not surprised when Dr. Straw released her. He was the sort to pick on defenseless women when alone but cower in the presence of other men. Unfortunately, she feared he was also the sort to hold a grudge, and to let that grudge fester while planning revenge. She didn’t need dragoness intuition to know this would not be her last encounter with Dr. Straw.