Darkfire Kiss (18 page)

He could imagine where that discussion would lead. Still, he wondered. Was Melissa as rootless as that? Was she disinterested in having a refuge or a home? He could barely imagine being without the comfort of his lair, even when he wasn’t in it.

Melissa looked away, then back to him. “You could say you were sorry.” Her tone was accusatory, and rightly so.

Whether her home had been decorated to his taste or not, it had been her property. He looked down at her, knowing his appearance was formidable. She didn’t flinch.

“I am sorry for the destruction of your home,” he said tightly. She sniffed, unimpressed. Rafferty continued, because he couldn’t regret his choice. “Are you sorry I pursued you?”

She swallowed and blinked. “Okay, I’m not. It was good that you came after the helicopter, and I didn’t thank you for that. Thanks.”

“You need not thank me. It was my duty.”

“Why?”

“Because you are my mate, and I am pledged to your defense.” Rafferty concentrated on charting his course.

“I’d like to know more about this mate business, and what it entails,” she said, her tone making it clear that she had already made up her mind.

And not in Rafferty’s favor.

He didn’t have it in him to battle verbally at the moment, so he changed the subject—even if it did feel like a trick. “Actually, I am committed to the defense of the entire human species. We all are.”

“Be serious. How did summoning an earthquake do that?” Melissa certainly wasn’t one to avoid the tough questions. At least she’d accepted his redirection of the conversation. “I mean,
somebody
must have gotten hurt. There are a lot of people living around there.”

Rafferty felt his anger rise. The firestorm tickled at him, and he had a long flight ahead of him. He could have done without a challenge from his mate. “I made a choice, one in your favor. I would not expect you to be the one to question its merit.”

“There you go, talking like a history book again. You sound as if you’re a thousand years old or something.”

“Somewhat more than that.”

“What?”

But Rafferty had had enough. “I would appreciate your cooperation at this time. We have a long flight, and I must be wary of human observance.”

Melissa laughed. “I think that one’s out of the bag.”

Rafferty declined to answer, his entire gut tightening at his responsibility for that.

And hers. As much as he didn’t want to argue with her, he resented that she had posted those pictures. What would it mean for the
Pyr
to be revealed?

Nothing good.

Just as nothing good would come of a discussion on that subject in this moment. He was tired and would likely lose his temper.

Rafferty gritted his teeth and said nothing. They were over the Atlantic now, the coast fading behind them. The snow had settled into a pounding icy rhythm, one that didn’t please Rafferty; he would be more sore for flying in its chill. On the other hand, the weather did diminish visibility, and he could do without needing to perform any beguiling of observers.

He hated beguiling anyone.

“So, who was the gold dragon? And how did he turn up so fast?” Melissa’s voice was slightly higher than it had been, and Rafferty wondered whether she was afraid of heights. Or water.

“His name is Jorge. He’s a
Slayer
—”

“A what?”

Rafferty saw no reason to be coy about such basics. And, maybe, his talking to Melissa would distract her from her fears. “We are of two kinds,” he said, and felt her relax slightly at his calm tone. “The true
Pyr
, of which I am one, are the guardians of the earth. We defend the treasure that is the planet, and we include humans among those treasures.
Slayers
, in contrast, declare that they would defend the earth and that humans must be eradicated in order to protect the planet.”

“I’m sensing some skepticism with the official explanation.”

“In reality,
Slayers
act in their own interests, with indifference to anything else.”

“So, they’re the ones who bleed black?”

“Because of this selfishness, the Great Wyvern extinguishes Her spark within each of them. Their blood runs black, indicative of their turning away from the light, and they do not have firestorms.”

“Seems you wouldn’t mind being without one yourself.”

“I don’t see much to be gained in discussing the matter right now.” Rafferty felt her expectant gaze upon him but continued with his original point. “Magnus is a
Slayer
and has led them at times. Jorge is one of his more loyal followers.”

“So, that’s why he saved him? Honor among thieves?”

“Maybe. It’s also possible that Jorge sees something to his own advantage in saving Magnus.”

“Like what?”

“Magnus had control of something called the Dragon’s Blood Elixir. It conferred immortality but was addictive, like a drug, requiring a constant supply. He shared it with his favored
Slayers
, omitting the detail that they would have to come to him for more.”

“A prince among dragons,” Melissa said, her opinion of that strategy clear. “It’s the classic ploy used by drug pushers to build their customer base. Free samples.”

Rafferty nodded, relieved to find them in agreement in their disgust. “The source of the Elixir is destroyed, and most of those who drank of it have been destroyed, as well. I wasn’t sure what had happened to Jorge—he disappeared quite suddenly and has been quiet for a long time.”

“Maybe he was looking for a hit.” Melissa snapped her fingers. “Hey, maybe he thinks Montmorency has a stash. Capturing him in a weak moment might let him persuade Montmorency to part with it.”

“Maybe. At any rate, Magnus will be harder to hunt while he’s in Jorge’s company.”

“Jorge didn’t look like a nice guy.”

“He is completely immoral, even among
Slayers
.”

Rafferty could almost hear the gears of Melissa’s mind turning before she spoke. “He’s not blond in his human form, is he? Kind of an iceman look? Pale eyes, brush cut, super buff? Like a homicidal Viking?”

Rafferty was startled. “How do you know this?”

She nodded matter-of-factly. “I was watching Montmorency in the Middle East. He was suspected of being an arms dealer, a big one, but no one could ever get anything on him. It drove me crazy.”

“It was a story you intended to get,” Rafferty said.

“It was a truth I wanted more than any other.”

“To ensure justice,” Rafferty guessed.

Melissa nodded with that familiar resolve, and he felt some satisfaction at understanding her. “I tried. But the thing is, Montmorency had this bodyguard, who was scary-mercenary. Blond. I called him the Homicidal Viking.”

“That would be Jorge.”

“The phrase started out as a joke, but one day I was trailing Montmorency to a meeting. It ended fast, and I saw the blond guy take out the man he’d met. He was rumored to have cheated Montmorency.” She swallowed. “This Jorge pulled a knife on the guy, right in the market, slit him from gullet to groin. And then he looked around with those cold blue eyes, as if daring anyone to challenge him. Every witness melted away, and Montmorency was long gone.” She shivered, and Rafferty was amazed that she had lived in such an environment by choice.

“And yet you watched?”

“He didn’t see me. I made sure of that.”

Rafferty wasn’t as certain as Melissa. She hadn’t known then about the heightened senses of
Pyr
and
Slayers
. His gut tightened at the prospect of Jorge’s hunting her.

“That was the day I knew I had to nail Montmorency.”

Rafferty said nothing.

Melissa clearly thought his silence was a condemnation, because she continued with resolve. “Listen, evil happens in the dark. It happens in the corners, when no one is looking, when no one is brave enough to look. And that’s how it spreads, by all of us collectively pretending we don’t see it.”

“You think people should have challenged him?”

“If everyone had turned on him, he wouldn’t have had a chance. He couldn’t have single-handedly killed everyone. If I’d had a camera, I would have shown the evidence right then and there.”

“Are you so sure he couldn’t have killed everyone in the marketplace?” Rafferty asked softly. “Now that you know his abilities?”

Melissa frowned. “Okay. If he’d been a man, he couldn’t have taken out everyone, no matter how homicidal he was.” She tapped on his chest. “My point is that people are cynical about journalism, viewing it as a kind of ambulance chasing. But what news does, what news can do, is shine a light on evil. News can show it, can spread the word about it, can empower justice systems, and fuel public outrage. News makes change.”

“So, we’re back to justice.”

“You’d better believe it.” Melissa’s voice was hard, filled with conviction. “And being part of that process, being key to it, is worth any price. If I had the evidence against Montmorency and I took it public, it wouldn’t matter what he did to me or what he said. Justice would prevail because of the record I had made.”

Rafferty was awed, both by the vigor of her argument and her impassioned sense of justice. “You’re an idealist,” he said, amazed by the realization.

“No. Idealists are dreamers. I’m a realist.” She grinned up at him. “I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty, not if it makes the world a better place.”

“You’re not afraid to break the law.”

She grimaced. “I had a hard time with that one—still do.” Her lashes closed. “If I hadn’t seen Daphne in the morgue, I don’t think I could have done it.”

“Why? I don’t understand the connection.”

She looked up, her gaze filled with vulnerability. “Because I asked her, years ago, to get evidence against Montmorency. She died because she tried to do what I asked of her. I owe her for that.”

“You owe her justice.”

“If not a whole lot more.”

Rafferty felt relieved to understand his mate’s motivation. “So you’re not afraid to die, if you get a story that stops evil in its tracks.”

Her smile was brilliant. “Guilty as charged. Now you know the secret of my life.” She cast a glance over him, her eyes dancing with unexpected mischief. “And I’m thinking I know yours.”

Rafferty eyed the distance ahead, fighting his inclination to be charmed by his mate. It occurred to him that she might be trying to manipulate him to get her story on the
Pyr
. The leaping blue flames of darkfire didn’t do much to clarify his thinking. He said nothing, admitted nothing more, and kept flying.

He was well aware that she was watching him avidly.

He thought she might have fallen asleep, when she finally spoke again. “So, where exactly is it that we’re going?”

“My lair. It is the only place we’ll be safe.”

“Safe being a relative term.” That thread of humor was in her tone again, a hint of how she dealt with stressful situations.

“You don’t like not being in control.”

“Not one bit,” she admitted easily. “My house is trashed. I don’t have my cell phone. I’ve lost my chance at a job. A dragon is carrying me across the ocean to points unknown. Bad dragons apparently abound, and there’s something weird going on called darkfire. The combination of all of the above is not really working for me.”

“Knowing your destination won’t change much.”

“What can I say? I like information. Maybe knowledge is power.” She laughed, then sobered. “Or maybe I really,
really
hate uncertainty.”

Rafferty fought against an answering smile. “You must know by now that I won’t injure you.”

“I know that. You’re pledged to the defense of your mate.” She repeated his words with care, quoting him perfectly. “Which brings up another uncertainty. What does this
mate
business mean?”

“What do you think it means?”

“Don’t be coy. If I knew, I wouldn’t be asking,” she replied, an edge to her tone. Then she sighed. “Okay, look. We don’t need to fight. I’m already involved here. We’re in this together, whatever it is. You, me, and the firestorm against the bad dragons, however many there are. I have that much, so I guess I’ll have to go with it. How long will this flight take?”

“Hours,” Rafferty admitted.

She surveyed their surroundings, her expression telling him all he needed to know. It was less than hospitable this far out to sea, especially with the snow falling heavily against them. In every direction, there were only dark skies, dark seas, or snow.

She nestled closer to him, curling into his embrace, and Rafferty felt a warm glow in the vicinity of his heart. It wasn’t entirely due to the firestorm. No, he was giving shelter to a human, to his mate, protecting her from these particular elements. It was a step back to where he belonged, and it felt good.

“You know, in my biz, in the field, you catch your z’s when you can. It’s not as if I can actually do anything useful right now, anyway. You have any problem with my grabbing a few right now?”

“None whatsoever,” Rafferty said, liking that she was such a practical and pragmatic person. She might have cried. She might have complained. Instead, she demanded information, and she made her peace with what he told her. Rafferty admired her resilience. “In fact, it would be preferable to me.”

“How so?”

“I expect that when you sleep, the darkfire flames will ebb slightly.”

“And it’ll be easier for you to concentrate,” she concluded. “It
is
distracting, isn’t it? I can’t remember when I’ve thought so obsessively about sex before.”

Rafferty found himself smiling. “It’s the firestorm.”

“I don’t know,” she said lightly. “It could be you. You’ll be hard to forget, you know.”

Rafferty’s gut tightened. He had never anticipated that his destined mate would be interested in forgetting him—but then, Melissa had seen him at his worst. He couldn’t find it within himself to argue for the side of permanence.