Vampire Dragon (28 page)
Outside, Killian appeared to him as a young woman,
hiding her malevolent inner crone, but he could still see her black heart. Something of a soulless specter, but with more substance than a ghost, she projected an eerie confidence. Toyed with him to keep him from shifting, her smile enough to make him, a grown dragon, shiver.
hiding her malevolent inner crone, but he could still see her black heart. Something of a soulless specter, but with more substance than a ghost, she projected an eerie confidence. Toyed with him to keep him from shifting, her smile enough to make him, a grown dragon, shiver.
He ignored her but she lingered as he took forever to shift, and she screamed her fury when she faced a dragon once more, strong and bold.
In her rage, she aimed bolts of lightning his way, shots of concentrated destruction straight from her fingertips.
Focusing on the force of his connection to Bronte, Darkwyn raised his dragon hands, and bounced ten glowing streaks of live energy back the evil one’s way.
With the thermogenic cocktail made by blending her negative energy with his magick and defensive aggression, ultra potent given his heart connection to Bronte, Killian went up like a power plant on steroids.
She disappeared in a black funnel cloud that exploded, a reaction that would make the weather service trying to name and track this particular electrical storm short-circuit.
Yes, he’d slowed Killian down, but he hadn’t stopped her. He’d delayed their journey as well. At this rate, it would be dusk before they left, which might be best, flying under cover of darkness.
The sooner they took wing, the safer for all of them. Darkwyn roared to call his family and lowered a wing so Zachary could get on his back. Bronte, Darkwyn would cradle in his arms, the way he brought her here. At least he could limit his fear this trip to Killian.
Not a small worry.
With any luck, he would get Bronte safely home before Killian could strengthen her energy source. Her power fed on her hate for Andra and her determination for revenge against the Sorceress of Hope. Why? Because Andra dared care for the legion of dragons Killian struck down.
Andra, their guardian not only kept their legion alive as dragons, she’d poured acid on Killian’s oozing hatewounds by sending him and his brothers back to earth as men.
That sin, Killian the Crone of Chaos would hold against Andra for longer than his legion could live as men or dragons.
He took Bronte in his arms, close against his body, to protect her from the elements, and turned his thoughts to the positive and enticing, rather than the vengeful and negative.
Comfortable
? he asked her, using telepathy.
You don’t hurt anywhere, especially your chest?
? he asked her, using telepathy.
You don’t hurt anywhere, especially your chest?
“I told you. The wound seems ancient.” She stroked several of his scales. “Beautiful sheen, but Darkwyn, you look scary as a dragon.”
I am deadly, make no mistake. But,
you
are safe.
you
are safe.
“If it weren’t for the violet of your eyes, I wouldn’t know you,” she added, examining his face thoroughly, making him feel like his big ugly lumbering self. “Your lids turn your eyes into slits,” she said. “Did you know?”
Limit your words
, he snapped.
We fly.
, he snapped.
We fly.
“Guess that means shut up?”
He did fly, roaring and shooting his fire upward to keep Bronte warm, but not too warm. The clouds were nearer than he expected and before long they rose above and cleared the blinding sheet of snow.
Puck could not take the altitude for long, nor could Bronte, so as soon as they escaped the Mount Washington blizzard, Darkwyn regularly dipped below the clouds.
The world is dark but beautiful from here
, Bronte communicated.
, Bronte communicated.
He looked straight at her.
It is, this trip.
It is, this trip.
Sooner than he expected, following Puck, they approached the fairgrounds, which meant he had taken a terribly circuitous route getting there.
Drak’s is dark hours too early
, Bronte said.
, Bronte said.
Wait for me to shift back before you go in. I do not like this dark.
He set her and Zachary down near the carousel where Bronte could sit, rest, and wait for him.
Zachary headed for the water’s edge while Darkwyn ambled into the trees beside the cemetery to shift.
It took becoming a man again to realize . . . “Bronte,” he called.
“Yes, naked man?”
“You knew.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t anticipate the problem. Want a utility crew jumpsuit?”
“You have a jumpsuit?”
“Zachary stuffed several into his backpack, in case of a naked dragon.”
“I love that brilliant boy.”
“Don’t tell him. He’ll punch out your lights. Here it comes.” She tossed the backpack and got him square in the gut. He wondered if she’d slugged him on purpose, but no way could she see him in here.
When he met her, she chuckled. “I would have liked you better without the jumpsuit.”
“I
wouldn’t
have,” Zachary said, falling into step beside them on their way to the Phoenix. “Watch what you say, will ya? I’m an
impressionable
kid.”
wouldn’t
have,” Zachary said, falling into step beside them on their way to the Phoenix. “Watch what you say, will ya? I’m an
impressionable
kid.”
“Right, and I’m a big lizard.”
Bronte elbowed him, and Zachary actually cracked a smile.
“Seriously,” Darkwyn told Zachary. “I did not see you over there. Thank you for the jumpsuit, by the way.”
“In case of customers, I thought you should arrive dressed,” Zachary said.
“Ya think?” Bronte mocked them both, but in moonlight, Darkwyn saw concern replace her playful expression.
“Maybe Vivica and Ogden only kept Drak’s open the night we left?” Bronte speculated. “And couldn’t come back today. I mean, the place is utterly deserted. Then again, why would the manager close Bite Me early, even if Ogden and Vivica didn’t show?”
“Stay behind me,” Darkwyn said, going up the porch steps.
The creak of every door echoed in the empty building, or it seemed empty to him. They heard a yowl, likely Lila or Scorch, and followed the sound.
Darkwyn almost wished he still had claws as he climbed upward, except he’d crush the stairs with his dragon weight.
The yowl led them to the Crimson Room where tapestries hung crooked from dislodged rods on red damask walls, and copies of
Vampire Daily
and the
New York Times
had been left scattered about. Casket sofas sat near casket coffee tables, several on their sides.
Vampire Daily
and the
New York Times
had been left scattered about. Casket sofas sat near casket coffee tables, several on their sides.
Lila scratched at the top of a salmon coffee table, her claws bloody. Yowling when she saw them, she jumped down, stood on her hind legs, and pawed at a coffin latch.
Darkwyn unhooked it, and raised the cover.
Vivica lay inside, gagged and bound, hands and legs, eyes closed, body still as death.
Darkwyn lifted her from the coffin, her skin cold and clammy, and disliked her gasp of pain. He laid her on a sofa to take off her gag.
“I know CPR,” Bronte said, pushing him aside. “You call 911. My cell phone works here.”
Bronte feared she was too late, but Vivica finally began to sputter and cough, at which point Darkwyn tried, without Vivica’s cooperation, to sit her up.
“Leave her the way she’s most comfortable until the paramedics arrive,” Bronte said. “At this rate, they’re gonna program the Phoenix into their GPS.” She got Vivica a glass of water. “Drink,” she said, “though I can get whiskey, if you’d prefer?”
“Water,” Vivica said, unable to grasp the glass with her stiff fingers, so Bronte held it to her lips.
“Ogden?” Darkwyn asked.
“Home. He hadn’t fully recovered. I asked Jaydun to come tonight.”
“Where’s Jay, then?”
Vivica’s eyes filled. “They shot him, and you know, Darkwyn, what happens when a shape-shifter is wounded.”
“He shifts.”
Vivica nodded, tears slipping down her face. “The more dragonlike he became, the more he towered over them, the more rounds they fired into him. From the air, he kept looking back but I screamed for him to save himself.”
“Don’t worry about him. He’s probably hiding in some cave healing himself. I’d know if something happened to him. For that matter, I think you would, too.”
She bit her lip with a half nod. “I guess I would.”
She’d as much as admitted with those words that Jaydun was her heart mate, but he’d leave it alone until she said it outright. “How about you, Vivica? What happened to you?”
“Two thugs dragged me up here and gagged me. As they put me in the coffin, Bronte, they said if I lived, I should give you a message: ‘Sanguedolce says your time is up.’ ”
FORTY
Darkwyn kept an arm around Bronte as they stood on
the sidewalk watching another ambulance leave the Phoenix, this one with the owner of Works Like Magick inside. Since his acclimator had no visible wounds, he thought it best for her to see a doctor.
the sidewalk watching another ambulance leave the Phoenix, this one with the owner of Works Like Magick inside. Since his acclimator had no visible wounds, he thought it best for her to see a doctor.
Vivica insisted Bronte stay with her building and talk to the police, who were now doing a room-to-room, floor-by-floor search, from basement to attic.
He and Bronte made their way toward the fairgrounds.
Zachary, his hands in his pockets, stood waiting, miffed at them both for making him stay near the carousel and out of harm’s way.
“He hates being treated like a twelve-year-old, the more so because of his unique wisdom. He figures he could outsmart Sanguedolce, if I let him. Let him get killed, more like. I promised my sister I’d raise him, vowed I’d get him to adulthood, hale and whole. And despite Zachary fighting me all the way, I intend to keep that promise.”
Darkwyn agreed, head and heart. “You’re right. He’s where he should be.”
Before the three of them went back inside, Darkwyn walked the grounds. First the porch, to peek into Bite Me, but the pub and café was empty. When he turned to speak to Bronte, she was gone. Damn, they should have coordinated their search. She must have taken a different direction, but not outside. Darkwyn made Zachary stay by the woods near the cemetery on the opposite side of the fairgrounds until he declared the building safe and free of Sanguedolce’s thugs.
He took the tourist route through Fangs for the Memories, fanning out to the storage area for Bite Me. Also empty.
Time to head for Drak’s second-floor rooms, but before Darkwyn got halfway up the stairs, he heard several consecutive pops.
Gunshots?
Gunshots?
He ran toward the sounds, fully aware that the cops had guns, too, so either good or evil could be wielding them.
He found a wounded officer in the Green Room, dialed 911, and fielded the usual questions. While he talked, he recognized Bastian’s art on the walls. Skinny Christmas pines, tall and pointy, hiding colorful mushrooms, and faeries beneath. An eco-friendly background for the “green” room . . . and death.
With help on the way, he bent to the cop. “Who did this to you?”
“Big bruisers,” the cop said, and passed out.
Sanguedolce’s men were still here? “Bronte!” Darkwyn shouted. “Bronte?”
In the Crimson Room, two men aimed big guns his way while night air blew in through a gaping hole in the back wall. A dragon-sized hole. Jaydun’s escape route, perhaps?
Darkwyn did as he was told and tried to stay positive. Jaydun could have healed, come back, and taken Bronte to safety. If so, he hoped they picked up the boy as well.
Darkwyn wanted to peek out the side window to see if Zachary was still beside the cemetery, but he dared not. The mobsters, if that’s who they were, should not suspect anyone could be out there.
He sent a telepathic warning in hopes that Bronte or Zachary would at the least
sense
danger.
Hide. The mob is here.
sense
danger.
Hide. The mob is here.
“What happened to . . . the girl?” Darkwyn asked the gunmen as he inched toward the opening in the back wall.
“Dead,” one spat, the words a literal knife to Darkwyn’s chest. And though he knew logically, as a dragon man, that he would have felt Bronte’s pain and the snuffing of her life force, his inner dragon was less easy to control. He fought rage, but his beast became stronger, grew claws, scales, and it fed on fury.
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