Firestorm Forever: A Dragonfire Novel (58 page)

“So close and yet a world away,” Jorge murmured. “They’re all oblivious. This place has been secure for hundreds of years. They’ve never even found the ventilation shafts, which truly is a sign of the inferiority of humans.”

“Where
are
we?”

“In the lost library of Ivan the Terrible.”

Jac had heard of that library and its treasures. “Isn’t it supposed to be under the Kremlin?”

“It is,” Jorge agreed. “Far beneath both the documented and the undocumented subway systems. Though its existence is rumored, no one knows where it is.” He leaned closer. “Even the
Pyr
don’t know this place is here, much less that the greatest prize of all has been safely kept within it.”

Jac glanced to the display of treasures and her gaze was drawn to that green stone. “The stone,” she said. “Was it here?”

“An aristocrat’s prize,” Jorge said, picking it up with obvious admiration. “A Dracontias. Perhaps
the
Dracontias.”

Jac had read about the Dracontias but neither she nor the sources had believed it was real. “I thought that stone was a myth.”

Jorge gestured to himself. “You stand in the company of a myth come to life.”

That was true enough. Jac’s gaze lingered on his jaw, which looked exactly as it had before. “There was supposed to have been a Dracontias cut from the brow of a fallen dragon in the Middle Ages.”

“Chevalier de Gonzo, Grand Master of the Order of St. John of Jerusalem, slew a dragon on the island of Rhodes, successfully extracting the Dracontias from its brow before it died.”

Jac recalled all of the story now. It was in Sigmund’s book. “But the dragon had lost his ability to taint the power of the stone at the point of his death, presumably because the knight had enchanted him.”

“Beguiled, I would guess.”

“I didn’t think humans could beguile dragons,” Jac said. “I thought only worked the other way around.”

“Perhaps the knight learned a new trick.” Jac sensed that Jorge knew more of this than he was telling and wondered why he’d told her anything at all.

Was he just bragging about his treasure?

Meanwhile Jorge turned the stone in his hand. “The gem became a family heirloom.”

“And was used to both cure illness and to detect illness.”

“Put the Dracontias in water and it will cause the water to boil. When the water cools and the stone is removed, the antidote to any illness is in the cup.” Jorge put the stone back down on the table with elaborate care. “Although I’m somewhat skeptical that there truly is a universal cure. The second version of the tale, that putting the Dracontias into a cup of poison will turn that poison to water, is more compelling to me.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I want something that you may be able to get.”

“And if I do get it for you, you’ll let me live.”

Jorge inclined his head in agreement.

“Why don’t I believe that?” Jac asked and he smiled.

“Maybe we share a certain skepticism of the claims of others.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Marco said he wanted the Elixir. He indicated that he wished to turn
Slayer
.” Jorge gestured toward the fallen
Pyr
and Jac tried to appear indifferent to Marco’s fate. “But
Pyr
don’t change their alliances that readily.” Jorge shook his head. “I’m afraid he meant to trick me.”

And what would Jorge do about that? It was easy to see that the
Slayer
was quickly recovering from his wounds, while Marco was still badly hurt. Jac was sure Marco would lose any dragon fight started now.

“Maybe now that he’s had his firestorm, he sees the appeal of turning
Slayer
. Of being immortal with the Elixir.”

“Maybe.” Jorge reached into his shirt and removed something that made Jac’s heart still. It was a scale, a dragon scale, of deepest black that looked as if it had been lit by an inner fire. He placed it on the table, and Jac knew whose scale it was even before the firestorm sparks lit between it and her. “But I think he lied to me,” Jorge said softly. “I think Marco said he wanted the Elixir so that I’d bring him here with you.”

Jac didn’t know what to say to that. Had Marco known that Jorge would take her to a sealed lair? Could any of the
Pyr
spontaneously manifest in other places, like these
Slayers
? Or had this ploy been the only way to ensure he knew where she was and could defend her? She felt keenly aware of her vulnerability.

Marco didn’t even seem to be breathing.

Jac had to hope that was because he was paying close attention. “You’re pretty suspicious of someone who wants to join forces with you,” she managed to say.

“I am,” Jorge admitted. “It’s a learned response.” His eyes lit with inner fire and he placed the scale alongside the other one on the table with a reverence that made Jac wonder why it was important. She couldn’t remember reading anything about that in the book, just that the Smith repaired the armor of the
Pyr
.

“Is this the part where you make me an offer I can’t refuse?”

“Not you,” Jorge murmured, his eyes glowing. “Not you.” Before her eyes, his right hand shimmered blue then changed to a massive dragon claw. His talons glinted as he made a fist, then he smashed Marco’s lost scale so hard that the table cracked in the middle.

The scale broke into pieces as Jac jumped back, and Marco howled in pain.

“Sorry to disturb your slumber,” Jorge had time to laugh, then Marco reared back and breathed a plume of dragonfire. His eyes blazed and the firestorm brightened to a blinding light.

In a heartbeat, Jorge had changed shape and the two of them had locked claws. Marco lunged toward Jorge and slammed the
Slayer
into the wall, showing a fortitude Jac hadn’t expected, given his injuries. The firestorm blazed with brilliant light, which maybe gave him new strength.

She guessed then that he meant to use what power he had to get her out of this prison.

Just in case, she grabbed the book that Jorge had given back to her. Then she snatched up the Dracontias. As Jorge and Marco collided with the opposite wall, cracking glass panels and making books fall to the floor, Jac closed her grip over the stone and hoped for the best.

Surviving this day was a long shot, no matter how she looked at it.

* * *

“I’ve got one.”

Sloane looked up at the sound of Thorolf’s old-speak, understanding what he meant. They’d captured one of the identical versions of Boris Vassily. Sloane felt both excitement and trepidation.
“Alive?”

“He was barely so. But the Elixir is working fast.”

He was going to have a live
Slayer
captive in his home. Even though Sloane had made preparations, the prospect still frightened him. He guessed that refrigerating the
Slayer
would slow his metabolic processes, including the regenerative power of the Elixir, but he had no idea how quickly the
Slayer
would recover.

Although he could guess what would happen when the
Slayer
could spontaneously manifest elsewhere again.

The logistical realities were no less daunting. It was the middle of the day and there were customers arriving at the shop, not to mention the ones on the road outside. Lee had taken charge of the store while Sloane worked in his lab. If Thorolf landed in dragon form, carrying a wounded dragon, lots of people would notice. Fortunately, the other
Pyr
were still at his home.

“I’ll meet you,”
Erik interjected. He’d obviously heard Thorolf’s old-speak and Sloane was glad.

“
We’ll take the truck and trailer,”
Quinn added.
“That way, it doesn’t matter what shape he takes.”

“He’s in human form now,”
Thorolf said.
“Thank the Great Wyvern.”

“Thorolf has to be exhausted,” Sloane said aloud.

“Thorolf is coming?” Eileen asked, having lifted her head at the sound of old-speak. When Erik nodded, she now stood up with purpose. “I’ll cook,” she said and stepped into the kitchen. “He’ll be starving.”

“He’ll want to go back for Chandra,” Sara contributed.

“He’ll need to eat first,” Eileen countered.

“We need to meet somewhere remote,” Quinn said.

“But not too far,” Erik added and Sloane nodded agreement.

“Lassen Volcanic National Park,” he suggested. “It’s closed to visitors this time of year.”

“We’ll park at the perimeter and fly in,” Erik said with a nod, and Sloane gave Thorolf directions in old-speak.

“It’s farther inland for him to fly,” Eileen said with concern. “He must be exhausted.”

“He is stronger than he knows,” Erik said. “The son of champions.”

“We’ll pick up some roast chickens and a couple of pies to hold him until your meal is done,” Quinn said with a wink. “Let’s go, before that
Slayer
recovers enough to fight. Thorolf won’t be in any state to subdue him again.”

“What are you going to do with him?” Eileen asked worriedly.

“Won’t the Elixir allow him to recover?” Sara asked.

Sloane was well aware of Drake listening to their conversation. “There’s a balance to be struck. If he dies and is exposed to the four elements, he’ll disintegrate to dust and I need his blood. If he’s kept under normal conditions, the Elixir will ensure that he heals and can escape.”

“So?” Eileen asked.

Sloane smiled. “I’m going to refrigerate him. It’ll slow down his metabolism but not kill him.”

“We’ll save that task for later,” Erik said grimly.

“After we’ve learned all we can from him,” Quinn agreed, and Erik lifted a finger.

“I would remind you that Boris Vassily and I have exchanged challenge coins. No matter how many of him there are, the pleasure of exterminating this one will be all mine.”

* * *

Ronnie awakened, feeling less sick than she had in the hospital. She touched her own forehead and it was cooler than it had been. She had no idea how long she’d slept and braced herself on her elbows to look around.

She didn’t remember much of the flight with Drake. She knew he’d rescued her from the hospital but as soon as she’d been safely in his embrace, she’d fallen asleep. She’d awakened when they arrived wherever they were, but her fever had been building. She had a vague recollection of an intense dark-haired man giving her an injection, then of Drake helping her into bed. She remembered telling Timmy that she loved him.

After that, there was only the blissful oblivion of sleep.

It turned out she was in a solarium that was lush with plants. The sun was shining through the shades on the glass ceiling and water splashed somewhere close by. She could smell the humid peaty scent of damp earth and the perfume of more than one flower. She was lying on a normal bed in a regular nightgown, which was a welcome change from the hospital. It was as if she’d slept in an enchanted garden. She felt refreshed and a little bit hungry.

She heard a step and saw Drake coming toward her, carrying a tray. She smelled coffee and her stomach growled in demand.

“There is a good sign,” Drake said and set down the tray on a table beside the pool and fountain. He came to her and knelt in front of her, sliding sandals on to her bare feet.

“I can do that,” she protested, but Drake gave her a look.

“Sloane says you have need of rest and relaxation to recuperate. I am to take your temperature.” He produced a thermometer, and Ronnie slipped the end under her tongue.

Drake stood with folded arms, watching her, like a guardian angel. “It has been forty-eight hours since he gave you the antidote. Tomorrow, he wishes to take a blood sample to monitor your progress. Sloane has midwifery skills and would like to check on the baby, as well.” Ronnie nodded agreement, relieved to have her concerns about the baby’s arrival so easily addressed. When the thermometer beeped, she gave it to Drake who nodded crisp approval. “Much diminished. And your hunger is, as I said, a good sign.”

“I had no idea you were a nursemaid,” Ronnie teased.

“I learn new skills each day,” he replied, and she saw the twinkle in his eye.

“Is his cure working then? I feel better.”

“He is optimistic for the first time in a long while. If his antidote does work, Sloane will be glad to share it to ensure that humans are healed, too.”

“So, I’m the test group?”

“A volunteer,” Drake said with a smile. “I am glad that you agreed, and that the results are so good already.”

The way he looked at her made Ronnie feel cherished, which was a wonderful sensation. She gestured to her rounded stomach. “I should have believed you.”

Drake sobered. “I should not have been so determined to have privacy. I underestimated the power of the
Slayers
, and you suffered as a result of my error. I am sorry, Veronica.”

“Should I demand that you make it up to me?” She used a teasing tone because he looked so contrite.

A gleam of determination lit Drake’s eye. “I intend to do just that.”

He put his hand beneath her elbow and helped her to rise to her feet. Ronnie was weaker than she’d realized and was glad of Drake’s support as he escorted her to the table. It was pure heaven to feel the skin of another against her own again. Drake’s hand was warm, his touch both gentle and strong, and she leaned on him with gratitude.