Firestorm Forever: A Dragonfire Novel (72 page)

Of course.

Lee spread his wings high, creating a protective canopy over Drake, and began his father’s favorite chant. He felt the wind blow and the first drops of rain fall on his wings, but he chanted on. He kept his gaze fixed on his patient, though he heard the other
Pyr
gather around the perimeter of the spiral. Sloane’s voice was the first to take up the chant, the first
Pyr
to lend his power to the ancient song. Lee smiled at the Apothecary’s power, feeling that the tremor of pain within Drake was diminishing. Erik and Quinn lent their voices, as well, and Lee heard a fifth voice, one he couldn’t identify. Who else aided their quest? It didn’t matter—they would all help Rafferty.

The
Pyr
sang together and time became difficult to measure. Lee’s father’s chant blurred the minutes and seconds, even the hours. It was only when Drake stirred and opened his eyes that Lee realized pearls had been falling from his lips all the while.

Drake looked about himself with wonder, scooping up a handful of the lustrous gems, and they shimmered as they slipped through his fingers. They turned to drops of rain and rolled into the garden around them, disappearing into the soil to nourish the plants.

Lee smiled at this gift.

The other
Pyr
shifted back to their human forms and Sloane applauded Lee’s efforts. “Wow,” he said. “I’d love to learn more of that chant.”

“It’ll be my honor to teach you,” Lee said.

“Thank you,” Drake said, then exhaled in a shuddering breath. “I have to tell Veronica that all is well.” He shook Lee’s claw and held his gaze. “Thank you,” he said again, his words heartfelt, then strode back toward the house. Lee smiled to note that Drake stepped over the young plants with care.

He considered the spiral of flowers, pleased with what he had done. That was when Lee saw the opal and gold salamander, watching from between the plants. If a salamander could smile, this one did.

Then he shifted shape in a shimmer of pale blue, and Rafferty appeared in his human form. Lee shifted, as well, so the two of them stood in the middle of the floral spiral as fat drops of rain fell around them.

“Well done,” Rafferty said with satisfaction and shook Lee’s hand heartily.

While the other
Pyr
welcomed Rafferty’s return and expressed their relief, Lee looked down and saw the strange ring that Rafferty wore. It looked like it was made of spun glass, of black and white swirled together, and it seemed to spin on the other
Pyr
’s finger as he eyed it. He lifted his gaze to find Rafferty watching him and felt a commonality with the
Pyr
beyond anything he’d felt before.

He’d lost his blood kin, but Lee had found a new family with the
Pyr
.

His father would have advised him to do whatever was necessary to defend this unexpected prize, and Lee would do just that.

* * *

The
Pyr
conferred quickly, for Erik and Quinn were both determined to leave as soon as possible. Erik had doubts about Lorenzo’s intentions and seemed to think he could stop that
Pyr
from doing something foolish.

Sloane doubted that anyone could stop Lorenzo from doing anything once that dragon made up his mind, except maybe Cassie.

He didn’t want to argue with Erik again, though.

Rafferty insisted that Marco wasn’t turning
Slayer
, although Erik was unconvinced. Quinn suggested that the Sleeper might simply want to savor his firestorm in private, a notion that Erik didn’t find compelling but one that made Sloane recall that Quinn had once felt the same way.

The mood was far from harmonious between them all when they parted ways, but Sloane was simply glad they were finally leaving. Maybe they’d been in close quarters too long.

Besides, he had work to do. He had to get his conservatory repaired, and he still hadn’t had five minutes to himself to examine that
Slayer
. He’d been working too hard and sleeping too little, and he was unhappy about his lack of triumph. Lee suggested he’d take care of the broken glass, and Sloane dispatched Drake to sleep in Veronica’s company, then headed back to his lab.

He didn’t even wave farewell to all of his departing guests.

Sam couldn’t arrive soon enough.

* * *

Samantha Wilcox returned to California with all the fury of a tropical storm. She raged through the airport and seized the keys from the car rental clerk. She squealed the tires as she backed the rental out of its spot, then made at least six traffic violations in her haste to get to Sloane’s residence. She turned into his driveway and gunned the engine, zooming up the driveway far too quickly. She braked to a halt so hard that plumes of dust rose behind her.

The car was parked crooked and blocking the drive, but Sam didn’t care. She flung herself out of it, left the door open and marched up to Sloane’s front door. She was going to lean on the bell, but didn’t have a chance.

The door was hauled open, as if someone had been watching for her. Sloane stood there, looking haggard and sexy as hell. “What took you so long?” he demanded before she could say anything, then pivoted and strode into the house, leaving the door open behind him.

If she’d been in a less murderous mood, Sam might have laughed. All those times she’d wanted to see into his home and he’d avoided the situation. Now he left the door standing open for anyone who cared to come in.

Even her.

“Where’s Veronica Maitland?” she demanded, even as she followed him. “What did they do with her?” Her gaze flew over the comfortable interior, then she caught her breath at the light spilling into the space beyond the kitchen. There was a greenhouse back there, and Sloane gestured to it with one hand.

Veronica was there. She was dressed in street clothes, a casual dress and sandals, and sitting on the rocks that edged a pool and fountain. A man with salt-and-pepper hair cut very short sat with her, and they were deep in conversation.

Sam turned on Sloane with outrage. “What the hell are you doing? This is a violation of every possible safety protocol, not to mention a public health hazard…”

“I don’t see a lot of public around here,” Sloane said tightly.

“But
him
! He’s with her without any protection. She’s
infectious
!”

Sloane shook his head with resolve. “Not to him.”

Sam felt her mouth drop open, then she understood. She looked at the couple again and noted Veronica’s smile. The other woman’s hand curved over her belly as the man clearly tried to make her laugh.

And succeeded.

“That’s the elusive Drake,” Sam whispered.

“Yes, it is. You want something to eat?”

The question restored Sam’s anger. “Eat? Are you crazy? She’s getting to the end of the progression. We can’t just sit back while she dies right in front of us.”

“Dies?” Sloane echoed. He arched a dark brow, then looked pointedly toward the greenhouse.

Wait a minute. “The progression from the first spike of the fever to death takes a week,” Sam murmured. She knew the symptoms by heart. “If she’s alive, she should be in the second phase.”

“The third one, actually, if you count the latent phase.”

“She should be confused. There should be red lesions on her body,” Sam murmured, unable to account for her former patient’s apparent good health. She walked closer to the glass barrier, amazed by the evidence before her own eyes. “She should have diarrhea.”

“But she doesn’t,” Sloane observed.

“Dr. Wilcox!” Veronica said, obviously noticing her presence. She stood up and Drake supported her elbow as she came to the glass wall. She was clearly weakened by her illness, but recovering. Her color was excellent and her spirits obviously good. Her partner was more somber, and Sam wondered what he knew.

Probably Sloane had confided in Drake.

Veronica waved but made no effort to open the barrier. She was still too thin but there was a sparkle in her eye and a slight flush to her cheeks.

“You look well,” Sam said, astonished by the truth of it. “I’m so glad.”

“I feel so much better,” Veronica confessed. She laid her hand against the glass. “I’m sorry I had to deceive you. I knew what was going to happen, but I was afraid you wouldn’t agree.”

“I wouldn’t have,” Sam admitted. “But it’s wonderful to see you recovering.”

Drake bent to murmur to Veronica and she nodded, holding his elbow as he took her back to sit in the sun.

Sam watched, then sat down hard in Sloane’s kitchen. “What did you do to her?”

“I gave her an antidote,” Sloane admitted, putting a cup of hot tea in front of her. Sam hadn’t even realized that he’d brewed it. He poured another cup and sat down beside her at the breakfast bar, his arm almost brushing against hers. She could see the bottom of the caduceus tattoo protruding from beneath the hem of the sleeve of his T-shirt, just the point of the staff and the two coiled dragon tails.

Sam recoiled from the reminder of that quote about necromancers. On the other hand he effectively had brought Veronica back from the dead. “And you tested it on her? Like she was a guinea pig?”

“I had a sample and tested it first. She agreed to give it a try,” Sloane replied, a slight edge in his tone. “She volunteered, for the sake of medical research.” He touched his mug to hers and took a sip of tea.

“How did she volunteer? When?” Sam demanded. “When? I was her primary caregiver. I saw all of her correspondence and her visitors.”

“I guess you missed one,” Sloane said, his voice hard.

Sam thought of that little smile of anticipation that had curved Veronica’s lips when she’d been pushing the gurney. She’d known. “But how did you do it?”

“I guess we have a few resources at our disposal that can’t be easily explained.”

Sam thought of Jac’s stone and frowned, shaking her head. “How did you find an antidote? We’ve had no real success.”

“I found it the same way you would have, if you’d had the chance. I identified and isolated a component in Drake’s blood that countered the virus.”

“Because he didn’t contract it.” Sam drummed her fingers on the counter. “He didn’t respond to my appeal and I thought that was because he didn’t care. The truth, I’ll guess, is that he had a secret to keep, one that we’d uncover with more tests.”

“He’s
Pyr
.”

Sam had already guessed that. He was probably one of the dragons who had abducted Veronica. “And that’s why he didn’t get infected.”

“No,” Sloane said and Sam looked at him.

“No?”

“Drake has been exposed to this virus before.”

“He had antibodies,” Sam repeated, then shook her head. “But what is the virus? Why can’t we identify it now, if he’s been exposed to it before? Where was he exposed? It should be documented.”

“It was.” Sloane crossed the room and picked up a book, cracking it open in front of Sam. It was
The Peloponnesian War
by Thucydides. “‘The plague originated, so they say, in Ethiopia in upper Egypt and spread from there into Egypt itself and Libya and much of the territory of the King of Persia.’ Thucydides goes on to describe its symptoms and development, and how it killed so many in Athens.”

Sam stared at the book. “But that was over thousands of years ago.”

“Drake is thousands of years old.” Sloane held her gaze when she stared at him in astonishment. “This virus is an ancient scourge, but Drake was alive when it struck before. Jorge brought that arm into our time from an infected individual in the past, from roughly the same era as Drake.”

Sam opened her mouth and closed it again. She deliberately chose to ignore Drake’s age and its apparent impossibility. She’d thought until recently that it was impossible for a man to change shape and become a dragon, too. Her gaze trailed to Sloane’s tattoo as she wondered just what other supposed impossibilities were realities.

Jac’s stone.

Sam shook her head. She stuck to the science. “But viruses mutate over time. Even if Drake was exposed several thousand years ago, over that time period, the virus would have mutated. He might not be immune to it any more—just as humans aren’t immune to each new strain of influenza, even if they’ve had flu before.”

“It didn’t have time to mutate,” Sloane said. “The infected arm and the topaz yellow dragon that is Jorge traveled through time, passing centuries in the blink of an eye.” He spoke with confidence, as if such a feat were completely reasonable. Sam decided to use the descriptor “impossible” less readily. “Drake was enchanted for the better part of those centuries, so he essentially was frozen as time passed. Neither he nor the virus had a chance to mutate.”

Sam took a gulp of hot tea. “Next you’re going to tell me about the healing power of the Dracontias.”

Sloane snorted. “That’s a myth,” he said with a disparagement that relieved Sam. “
Pyr
don’t have healing stones in their foreheads. If they did, my job would be a lot easier.”

“Why do you help them?” she asked, not bothering to hide her bitterness. “Why do you serve them and tend them, helping them to heal? They’re abominations…”

“Why do you
think
I do?” Sloane said, interrupting her with a severity she knew was out of character. His eyes were very dark and he seemed to be glittering right in front of her.