Kiss of Fire (34 page)

Sara could hear the Wyvern chanting something low and deep, something Sara couldn't quite hear, but even she could feel Erik respond to the song. He was unconscious and his breathing was shallow. The wounds he had sustained cut deep and he was burned on one side.

“There is something greater broken within him, Seer,” the Wyvern murmured. “The spirit must heal before the body can be repaired.”

That made sense to Sara in general, even if she didn't understand the specifics. Sophie continued her chant, though, effectively ignoring Sara as she concentrated on Erik.

To Sara's dismay, Rafferty and Donovan left Quinn to battle alone with Ambrose. The pair flew toward her just as Niall and Sloane came back over the forest. The amethyst and tourmaline dragons carried the charred body of the garnet red
Slayer
that had been Xavier. They tossed his carcass into the burning remains of the cabin, glanced toward Quinn, then also flew toward Sara.

“Sneaky,” Niall said with disgust.

“They all are,” Donovan agreed, his eyes narrowing as Boris and the green
Slayer
streaked toward the
Pyr
. “Here they come.”

Niall murmured something low, his brow furrowing. “Heads up,” Sloane warned, watching the churning sky overhead as well as the other
Pyr
. “This is unpredictable stuff.”

Even as he spoke, a funnel cloud emanated from one dark cloud, then retreated. Niall continued to murmur, then another larger one spun toward the earth with fearsome speed.

It fell upon Boris and the green
Slayer
. They never saw it coming and Sara heard the roar of Boris's shock as the two disappeared into the churning air.

“Easy, Niall,” Sloane said when the burgeoning tornado veered closer.

The
Pyr
's eyes narrowed as he fought to turn the unruly clouds to his will.

They all breathed a sigh of relief when the funnel cloud pulled back into the dark clouds above and the dark thundercloud seemed to boil while it was incorporated.

“Can you control storms?” Sara asked and an exhausted Niall shook his head.

“They're unpredictable, especially violent ones, and often have intent of their own. I'd never invite one like this, because you just don't know what it will choose to do.” He exhaled mightily, spent from his efforts, and the other
Pyr
quietly congratulated him.

Sara was trying to wrap her mind about the idea of a storm having an intention.

Meanwhile, Quinn and Ambrose fought vigorously.

The
Pyr
, to Sara's surprise, landed in a circle around Erik. “Why don't you help Quinn?” she demanded.

Rafferty bowed his head. “Because he asked us to protect you instead.”

“But that's not right! That's not fair,” Sara argued. “I thought you needed the Smith to save the earth….”

“They need the product of the union between the Smith and the Seer,” the Wyvern interjected calmly.

Sara turned to meet her steady gaze as she understood. She put her hand on her belly. “You said it wouldn't be a child.”

“I said it wasn't necessarily going to be a child. The possibility was always present.” Sophie smiled serenely at Sara's shock, then returned to her healing song. She beckoned to Sloane who knelt beside her to learn her chant.

“But I'm not ready to trade Quinn for his child,” Sara said, even though no one was listening.

Rafferty settled beside her, his manner calm and thoughtful. “It is our way, Sara. The blood duel is a challenge to fight to the death. Once it is accepted, no other
Pyr
or
Slayer
can intervene.”

“So you just watch?”

“There've been times when dragon fighting has been a spectator sport,” Donovan said, his gaze fixed on the battle.

“Right. I'll bet the
Slayer
s play by those rules all the time,” Sara said bitterly. “Couldn't you at least keep tabs on Boris and Sigmund? It would be like them to double back.” She turned to Niall. “I mean, if you aren't sure about controlling storms, maybe it was Boris who made it look like you controlled it.”

She again had the sense that the
Pyr
consulted each other. Niall took flight, his expression that of someone who listened intently, albeit to something Sara couldn't hear. The storm was passing; the rain had settled into a more steady downpour. The clouds were still dark, but that uncertain energy was dissipating. “They've turned south,” he murmured, peering into the distance.

“I'll go with you and intercept them,” Donovan said. “Sara's right that the
Slayer
s don't play by the rules.”

Some other comment was passed between them; Sara felt it more than heard it. Then Rafferty eased closer to her. He was her guardian; she understood as much without words.

But there was another guardian she would have preferred. She watched Quinn battle Ambrose, wishing there was something she could do to help.

“You can stay out of it,” Rafferty said. “The conviction that you are safe is his bedrock.”

“How did you know what I was thinking?”

Rafferty smiled. “Humans are enchantingly transparent.” He sighed and pulled his tail around, then patted it in invitation. Sara sighed in her turn and sat down on the opalescent scales, telling herself to be patient.

It wasn't her best trick.

Especially when it became apparent that Quinn was losing.

“I don't like spectator sports,” she grumbled, unable to keep herself from watching.

“Neither do I,” Rafferty agreed. “Blood sports are worse.”

Sara couldn't argue with that.

Q
uinn knew that he had to use Ambrose's pride against him to triumph. It was the only weak spot the
Slayer
had. The hole in Quinn's chest ached as he ascended to meet Ambrose over the woods that encircled the burning cabin. Rain beat down, turning their scales slick, and the wind swirled around the pair as they locked claws.

They thrashed their tails at each other, clawed, bit, and parted when Quinn exhaled dragonfire on the
Slayer
.

“I won't be breathing fire on you,” Ambrose muttered. “No matter how much you tempt me.”

“An old dragon like you should be easy to beat, anyway.”

“Age gives experience!”

“Age gives weakness and infirmity. Look at you, for example.”

“I'm stronger than ever!” Ambrose raged.

“I don't think so. Erik sent you from the tower with your tail between your legs the other night,” Quinn taunted, knowing that Ambrose didn't like reminders of failure. “Maybe you're getting old, Ambrose, too old to fight.”

The other
Pyr
launched himself at Quinn with fearsome fury. Quinn was startled by how quickly he moved. They grappled with each other, claws locked, and fell from the sky as they fought for advantage. Quinn could see the hatred in his opponent's eyes and feel the heat of his breath as he snapped at Quinn's chest.

Quinn thought they would crash into the trees, but he wasn't going to be the one to let go first. He lashed at Ambrose with his back claws, but the
Slayer
struck Quinn with his tail first.

Quinn tumbled toward the treetops, stunned by the force of the blow.

“I let Erik defeat me that night,” Ambrose bellowed, loosing a stream of fire. He ensured that it didn't come near Quinn. “I
chose
to leave.”

Ambrose was furious and Quinn decided to prod him more. He pretended to be more injured than he was, taking his time recovering his balance and flying upward to engage again. “What about the night before in the arcade? You ran like a little boy who didn't know how to shift shape.”

“Like the one you used to be?” Ambrose sneered. “I chose to leave your mate that first night and let you think it was a mugging.”

“I wasn't fooled,” Quinn scoffed. “You left the coin.”

Ambrose smiled, his teeth gleaming yellow. “A nice touch, wasn't it? A little reminder of our past.”

“And evidence of who threatened my mate.” Quinn said. “Not very clever, Ambrose. I would have been at a greater disadvantage if I still believed you were dead. The element of surprise is powerful.”

Ambrose flew straight for Quinn, four sets of claws extended. “I don't need another advantage to finish what I started in Béziers,” he snarled.

“It's taken you long enough to get around to it.”

“I waited!”

“You
hid.
You're nothing but a big coward.”

Ambrose breathed fire all over the treetops in his frustration, setting most of their branches alight. “Look at your mate. My marks are all over her. She might as well be mine.”

“But she's not yours and never will be.” The
Slayer
hissed and Quinn knew he'd found a sore point. The pair locked claws and tumbled above the burning trees, their tails pummeling each other. The flames hissed as the rain fell on them, but the forest continued to burn as the fire spread down from the crown.

Ambrose tried to bite Quinn's chest. Quinn shoved him into a deadened tree bough and knocked the wind from him for a moment.

“Is that the problem, Ambrose? Are you lonely? Afraid no woman will ever love you?” Quinn saw the flash of anger in the
Slayer
's eyes and pushed him further. “Maybe that you'll never have your own firestorm? What a loss that would be, to see your strain erased from the world.” Quinn flipped Ambrose and tossed him toward the burning trees.

Ambrose spun and came up fighting. “It
would
be a loss! I should have had a firestorm!”

“I have to trust the wisdom of the Great Wyvern on this one.”

“Audacity!” He swung his tail at Quinn, who ducked. They gained altitude together, slashing at each other and circling. “You never used to be so impertinent.”

“Live and learn.”

“I had hope for you.”

“I wouldn't call it hope.”

Ambrose feinted and dove at Quinn. He caught the end of Quinn's tail in his grasp, his talons digging deeply. Quinn turned and spouted fire at Ambrose's belly, then slashed his claws across the other
Pyr
's back. Ambrose swung his tail with force.

Quinn saw the blow coming, though. He snatched at Ambrose's tail, breathed fire to make Ambrose release his grip, then flung the
Slayer
across the sky. Ambrose came raging back, his fury tangible. He fell on Quinn in a torrent of claws and snapping jaws. Quinn pretended to falter beneath Ambrose's blows and let himself lose altitude.

He had an idea.

Ambrose snorted as Quinn's wings beat out of rhythm. “Your skills are nonexistent,” he sneered.

They locked claws again, Ambrose's tail knotting around Quinn's to hold it down. His eyes gleamed and he exhaled smoke toward Quinn's chest. The smoke burned and Quinn fought to release himself from the
Slayer
's grip.

Ambrose held tighter and exhaled more smoke. “You have your mother's eyes,” he hissed. “It will make it so much more pleasurable to kill you.”

Quinn was surprised. “You knew my mother?”

“I knew Margaux
first
,” Ambrose insisted, his eyes flashing. “She was ripe and luscious, a virgin well worth stealing and claiming. I took her for my own. I took her to be my mate.”

Quinn was beginning to understand what the
Slayer
had against his family. “She must not have liked you,” he said. “Or you would have been my father.”

“The Smith saved her—or that was what he told everyone,” Ambrose spoke with bitterness, but it kept him from breathing more smoke. Quinn wondered whether he could provoke the
Slayer
into forgetting himself and breathing dragonfire. He let himself go slack and moaned as if he was almost finished. “The truth is that Thierry stole Margaux from me. He took what should have been mine and made it his own.”

“Was she a partner or a possession?” Quinn pretended to be breathing hard, pretended to be having difficulty in flying as high as Ambrose.

He lunged at the other
Pyr
as if making his last effort and Ambrose locked claws with him again. They struggled against each other, Quinn being careful to hide his full strength from his opponent.

“Does it matter?” Ambrose laughed. “He bred with her, bred as abundantly as a human. He had the sons with her who should have been mine. He filled her head with the lie of the firestorm….”

“It's not a lie!”

Ambrose spat into the trees and the flames hissed. “Margaux loved the notion of being a destined lover more than she could possibly have loved Thierry. She loved
me
, but he took her. I vowed that he would pay.”

Quinn let his voice fade, left it to Ambrose to keep the weight of both of them airborne. “You waited, until he had a lot to lose.”

Ambrose smiled even as he gritted his teeth at the burden of Quinn. “He had everything. I gave him time to gather it. Material success. The respect of friends and neighbors. Prowess in his craft. Five sons from that faithless bitch's womb, all
Pyr
.”

“Who knew you had such patience?”

“I waited many years for my due, and the prize was all the sweeter for having ripened. I let Thierry think he was safe and secure. He was cocky then: he didn't think he needed any other
Pyr
to protect what was his own.” Ambrose chuckled. “I enjoyed teaching him just how wrong he was.”

“And the people who died along with him?”

“Vermin.” Ambrose snorted. “Collateral damage, as they say these days. They will all be exterminated sooner or later.”

“But you missed me,” Quinn taunted. “Maybe you're not as powerful as you think you are.”

“I let you go!” Ambrose bellowed and the dragonfire slipped from his mouth. Quinn gave no sign of how it invigorated him; he just hoped for more. “I let you run and I tracked you. I waited until you were reduced to nothing more than a dog, and then I tempted you.”

Quinn was shocked. “You meant to make me a
Slayer
.”

“
Pyr
are born:
Slayer
s are made. You would have made a good one, if you'd had the heart for it. I even slaughtered your mate, thinking that would turn you against the world.”

“You couldn't make me evil. Ever.”

“Why not? What do you get from these
Pyr
? They argue that they're noble, that they're true
Pyr
, that they fight for the greater good.” Ambrose sneered. “But here you are, the Smith they've waited centuries to find, and they abandon you to me. You're dragon fodder, Quinn Tyrrell, while they cluster around your mate. What does that tell you about your valiant friends?”

Quinn had no chance to concoct a reply before Ambrose caught his breath.

“They're protecting your mate instead of you,” Ambrose said slowly as understanding clearly dawned. “Your seed has taken fruit and she will bear the new Smith. Your days are numbered, Smith, and they know it.”

“No, no, that's not it,” Quinn argued in desperation.

Ambrose laughed then, taking a deep breath to finish Quinn with his smoke. “I'll claim your mate as the spoils of this challenge,” he hissed, the first tendrils of smoke emanating from his nostrils. “I'll take your Smith son and turn him to my purposes. The fruit that can save the world can surely be used to condemn it. That will be true justice against Thierry the Smith!”

The prospect so horrified Quinn that he didn't need dragonfire for more strength.

This was the moment he'd waited for.

Quinn cried out as if dying.

Ambrose laughed and let him fall.

Quinn crashed into the crown canopy of the forest, praying the trees would hold his weight. They did, although he broke a number of branches on impact. He lay as if stunned, a dozen feet down from the summit of the forest. He kept one eye open a slit to watch for Ambrose, and moaned.

Quinn was certain that Ambrose wouldn't be able to deny himself a killing blow. And he was right. The other
Pyr
descended in a glorious swoop of gold and yellow, completely confident.

Ambrose raged against Quinn, thrashing the younger
Pyr
with his tail and breathing smoke. He walloped Quinn on one side and Quinn let himself fall through the branches even farther. Ambrose incinerated trees to make way for himself, and Quinn stifled a smile as he felt the surge of dragonfire.

The trees were burning with dragonfire. The source of the flame was the same, whether it directly landed on Quinn or was passed via the burning trees. The flames touched him, caressed him, built the strength within him to a fever pitch.

And Ambrose thrashed with his tail. Quinn let himself be assaulted as his strength built. He moaned and pretended to crumble beneath the
Slayer
's blows.

“You fooled me before,” Ambrose declared, his breathing labored. “I'll be sure you're dead this time, Smith.”

Ambrose breathed smoke with vigor, letting its tendrils wind around Quinn. It would have weakened Quinn further, if not for the presence of the dragonfire, but Quinn played along.

“So close to dead. Let's see it done.” Ambrose gave a laugh and lunged for Quinn, his claws bared. Quinn realized that Ambrose was aiming for the missing scale on Quinn's chest. Quinn waited, feigning unconsciousness, letting his assailant come close.

This was for his mother, and his father, and his brothers.

This was for Elizabeth.

This was for the future; the future he and Sara would share.

Ambrose's talons touched Quinn's chest. The tips just barely tore into Quinn's flesh and Ambrose chuckled in anticipation.

Then Ambrose had the last surprise of his life.

Sara saw Quinn fall into the burning forest and feared for his survival. She bounced to her feet.

“You're not going anywhere,” Rafferty said with authority, putting one heavy claw on Sara's shoulder.

“You could go breathe fire on Quinn,” she charged but Rafferty shook his head.

“You need me. You have no other defender now,” he said, drawing himself taller. She could feel him gathering his strength and knew things were turning bad. “We must keep our gaze fixed on the prize.”