Firestorm Forever: A Dragonfire Novel (24 page)

“Of course not,”
he murmured.
“It is the way of the viper to use our own natures against us.”
His eyes opened then, and Theo was surprised to find them filled with more resolve than he could have expected.
“Fear not, Theo. This battle has only begun.”

* * *

Ronnie found herself in a cave, with burning torches on the walls. Unfortunately, her companions were Jorge and the triplets. One of them was dripping black blood and Ronnie hoped he died a painful death.

Maybe he could take the others with him.

It was dark enough when they arrived that Ronnie had a moment to hide her prize from view. She’d examine it later. The flames in the torches flickered at their arrival, then settled to burn brightly again. By then, whatever she’d taken from Drake was safely tucked beneath her sweatshirt.

That Jorge released her from his grip was a clear sign that there was no way to escape, but Ronnie studied her surroundings with care all the same. There was a lot of rubble underfoot and the ceiling of the one cavern was cracked. Ronnie thought that someone had cleared this space after some kind of collapse.

The wounded dragon was flung down hard by his fellows. The injured
Slayer
was shimmering blue, shifting from human to dragon repeatedly, and his breathing was shallow.

No wonder, given how torn up his body was.

“A sign of distress,” Jorge said, noting the direction of Ronnie’s gaze. “And an indication that he is near death. He
could
still heal, though, if given the chance.”

The dying dragon’s eyes opened for a moment, his lids flickering and his claw lifting as if he would appeal to Jorge for mercy. Ronnie had to think that was a long shot, and Jorge turned away, as if he hadn’t even seen the gesture.

Jorge was clearly indifferent to the fate of his minion and more interested in the other dragons for the moment. Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum were scratched up, but not shifting compulsively in the same way. They dropped their gazes when Jorge approached them. Ronnie assumed it was a submissive gesture, but then wondered when Jorge seized one
Slayer
’s chin and compelled him to meet his gaze.

Ronnie heard rumbling as if there was an earthquake. She scanned the cavern again, fearing she’d be buried alive, but the dragons showed no similar concern. As she watched, Jorge bent his attention upon the
Slayer
whose chin he held. His grip was tight enough that the tips of his claws pricked the
Slayer
’s chin—Ronnie could see black blood leaking from those points. The
Slayer
thrashed a little in Jorge’s grip, struggling to keep from looking up at Jorge, but Jorge was relentless.

And he triumphed. Once the ruby and brass dragon stared up at him, it seemed he couldn’t look away. He was apparently transfixed, his eyes wide. Ronnie wondered what was happening. After a lot of low murmuring, Jorge released that dragon and seized the third. This
Slayer
twitched and struggled, but went limp when he looked into Jorge’s eyes.

What was Jorge doing?

It wasn’t anything good. Ronnie could see that. She didn’t trust how Jorge relinquished his grip then stood back to watch, his anticipation clear.

The first
Slayer
he’d spoken to was fumbling beneath his scales and Ronnie saw him flicker quickly between forms. When he was in dragon form again, there was something small and gold in his talons.

A coin.

“We call it a challenge coin,” Jorge said, his manner unctuous.

The
Slayer
clumsily tossed the gold coin at the second
Slayer
, as if he would have rather not but was compelled to do so. With shaking talons and some resignation, the second
Slayer
picked up the coin from the floor of the cavern. He stood then, unsteady on his claws. The pair eyed each other, then there was a rumble of thunder again. They leaped at each other with talons bared. They locked claws and struggled for ascendancy, then took flight in the cavern. In a heartbeat, the dragonfight was on, as they bit and breathed fire at each other with increasing fury.

Jorge turned away from the erupting battle with satisfaction. His gold and topaz form seemed to slither as he returned to Ronnie.

“A blood duel,” Jorge informed her amiably. “It’s traditional that with the exchange of challenge coin, we dragons will fight to the death.” He shrugged as he settled beside her, clearly indifferent to the result of the fight behind him. Jorge smiled. “Not their idea, of course, but I only need one of them now. It might as well be the stronger one.”

He considered the injured
Slayer
for only a moment, before he bent and bit into his guts, tearing the flesh from the bones and consuming it. Ronnie knew she shouldn’t have been surprised, much less disgusted, but she was both.

She averted her gaze.

Jorge chuckled. “One can’t be too particular about new sources of the Elixir,” he murmured. He watched the fight almost absently, gnawing the fallen
Slayer
’s flesh with such vigor that the black blood dripped from his chin and down his scales. He chewed with gusto.

The stench was disgusting.

Ronnie supposed her revulsion showed.

“Care for a bite?”

She shook her head and backed up, finding only the stone wall behind her.

“Probably wise on your part. There’s no telling what the Elixir might do to a human, let alone to the child.”

“What if I’m not pregnant?” Ronnie had to ask.

“You are,” Jorge said with confidence. “I can smell it on you.”

“That’s impossible!”

Jorge shook his head as he chewed. “Not for a dragon shifter. Our senses are keener than those of humans. We discern more of the physical world, which is a sign of our superiority.”

“I don’t think it’s superior to cannibalize your dead,” Ronnie said.

Jorge laughed. “We don’t usually. This is a necessary adjustment.” He grimaced. “And really, there’s little to recommend a meal of fallen
Slayer
. Dragon meat is tough and sinewy, by and large. I had hoped that this one might be more tender, given his age, but alas, that’s not the case.” He took another bite, his manner philosophical. “It must be our nature to make poor eating.”

“Why is it necessary to eat him? Isn’t there anything else to eat?”

Jorge’s cool gaze landed upon Ronnie again and she was afraid she’d given him an idea of an alternative. “We don’t eat humans,” he said, and she wondered why he confessed anything that might reassure her. “There is a pungency about your kind that I find distasteful.” He returned to his meal. The battling dragons thrashed and struggled for supremacy, one slamming the other into the rock wall so that the whole cavern vibrated. Ronnie wasn’t surprised when black blood flowed down the wall, or when the battered dragon went limp.

She’d learned to expect the victor to eat his kill, but averted her gaze when he did.

Ronnie found Jorge watching her with undisguised amusement. She knew enough about him to understand that he was lingering—and chatty—for a reason. There had to be a point to this display, never mind his smug manner.

Maybe she could find out something. If he wasn’t going to eat her, then it didn’t look as if she had a lot to lose. If Niall dreamwalked to her again, she could confide what she’d learned and that might help the
Pyr
.

“So? Why eat this one?”

“It’s the Elixir,” Jorge repeated, his voice dropping to a hiss. “The Elixir confers something close to immortality upon those who consume it and makes us more vigorous.” He flicked his tail and she saw to her horror that it was already growing back. “It’s a substance that needs to be replenished in one’s system, however, and there is no longer a source, thanks to the
Pyr
.”

“They claimed it?”

Jorge’s eyes glittered. “They destroyed it, and so I have been compelled to find Elixir wherever I can.” His gaze remained fixed upon her as he ate another bite, and Ronnie realized the implication of his words.

“Those
Slayers
had taken the Elixir, too! That’s why you eat the corpses.”

“Waste not, want not,” Jorge said easily. “The
Pyr
, of course, will honor their dead,” he continued, his disdain clear. “But then, warriors like Reed and Drake are no good to anyone once they’re dead.” And he smiled, his satisfaction so clear that Ronnie wanted to kick him. “Of course, this one didn’t exactly choose to take the Elixir as I did. He was given it, before he was hatched.”

“Hatched?” Ronnie asked. “Is that how
Slayers
are made?”

Jorge smiled, showing all those teeth, a sight made less appealing by the bits of flesh and black blood adorning them. “It could become so, certainly.”

“That’s enigmatic.”

“Yes, I apologize. There is an old saying that
Pyr
are born but
Slayers
are made, a reference to the fact that we choose our path.” Jorge chewed steadily. “But matters are in flux, since the darkfire was released.” He looked around, then nodded. “In this very cave, actually.”

“I don’t understand.” Why was Jorge so confident that he needed only one
Slayer
to guard his back? There seemed to be a lot more
Pyr
in the world and Jorge didn’t strike her as a dragon who liked to have odds stacked against him.

Ronnie had a bad feeling about that.

Hatched.

“Where are
Slayers
hatched?”

“You don’t need to understand that,” Jorge said, his tone turning harsh. Apparently the time for confidences was coming to an end. He fixed a glittering stare upon her. “What you need to understand is that Drake is dead, and that he died because you appealed to him to save the humans.” Jorge shook his head with amusement. “I really couldn’t have planned it any better. Sometimes humans do inadvertently improve upon the best scheme.”

“You planned for them to come.” Ronnie was disappointed to realize that Drake had been right. Jorge had baited a trap.

“They wouldn’t have found you otherwise.” He wagged a talon at her, his confidence supreme. “They won’t find you here. I’ve ensured as much. There will be no more dreamwalking.” He said the word with scorn. “We will simply wait in cozy, if isolated, comfort.” He heaved a sigh and considered the shredded corpse. “Perhaps after my meal, I’ll hibernate until the spring. You’ll believe me about the baby by then.”

She spun away from him and his disgusting meal, her tears rising even though she would have preferred otherwise. He’d killed Drake. She’d seen her dragon injured and falling from the sky.

Worse, Drake had died because she had urged him to protect those humans from the contents of the vial. It was her fault, just as Jorge had gloated.

The
Slayer
had planned it all so well. Had they ever had a chance?

But then Ronnie remembered Drake’s last words to her.
Appearances are not always what they seem.
Was it possible that Drake was alive? Or that he had tricked Jorge? She could only hope as much and cling to that hope to get her through this ordeal.

It wasn’t much, but it was all that Ronnie had.

It was only then that she realized she didn’t know what had happened to the vial of blood. She sensed that she had missed a critical detail in that. And there was another dragon missing. “What about Leftie?” she asked. “Did you eat him already?”

Jorge snarled, his eyes flashing, and waved a talon as if to dismiss her from his presence.

Ronnie found herself abruptly alone in a cavern with no visible exit.

She thought about Jorge’s reaction to her question and had to think that Leftie had somehow gotten away. She wished that she could vanish into thin air herself.

Otherwise it seemed unlikely she’d be leaving this new prison any time soon.

* * *

The
Pyr
carried Reed’s broken body out over the Atlantic. Drake watched from the beach at Great Kills Park with Theo standing guard over him. In other circumstance, Drake might have protested that he didn’t need a sitter. On this particular night, he was glad Theo had assisted him and welcomed a
Pyr
at his back. He’d watched as Theo sent a summons to Sloane earlier, and once again, felt a grudging admiration for technology.

There was no doubt that he had need of the Apothecary’s aid. Drake’s back was bleeding and sore, and the dragonsmoke had left him weakened.

He needed his strength to save Veronica.

The beach was deserted at this hour of the night. The rain and the chilly air of October no doubt also contributed to the solitude. Drake waited in his human form where Theo had placed him, not having the energy to move.

He watched Kristofer and Arach in flight, their figures dark against the overcast skies. At least the falling rain made them slightly less visible. Drake didn’t doubt that there were half a dozen humans filming the progress of the dragons from somewhere on the island, but he didn’t care. He had failed Veronica again.

At least, the
Pyr
would not fail their dead.

It was important to ensure that Reed couldn’t be raised from the grave by the Elixir. Drake watched as the
Pyr
released Reed’s body, then breathed dragonfire upon it as the warrior fell toward the sea.