Darkfire Kiss (28 page)

He even found an entry that appeared to refer to Jorge killing that man in the market in Baghdad. The timing was roughly right, and Jorge was to meet this man.

She not only had his name, but she recognized it. Interpol had a huge file on the dead man, who was in the same dirty business as Montmorency.

Melissa decided to give that incident its own post. As before, she queued them up to appear hourly and was gratified to see the first one gathering hits and links even as she wrote the subsequent ones.

On the Trail of the Truth—4

posted 12:23:10 08:00 EST on MelsNewsBlog

Melissa uploaded a trio of images—one of the book itself and two of the pages showing dates and times of meetings. She was in the midst of compiling another post explaining those meetings and names when a comment appeared on her blog in caps.

It was Doug, demanding that she call him.

Rafferty handed her the phone.

“But it has your name on the call display,” Melissa protested, well aware of her promise to him.

“I have no issues with your producer knowing my name,” Rafferty said easily. “I doubt he’s in the habit of telling all he knows, and what is there to tell? That I’m your host here?”

Melissa smiled and took the phone. She called Doug’s cell phone, and he answered immediately.

“Whose book is it?” he demanded by way of greeting.

“His name is Magnus Montmorency….”

“And where is he now? In custody?”

“No. Possibly somewhere in England.”

Doug swore. “Melissa, you’re taking too much of a risk!”

Before he could launch into a tirade—and really, he couldn’t begin to imagine how much of a danger Montmorency posed—Melissa interrupted him. “No, Doug, I’m giving this story the attention it needs. And I’m not stupid. I can send the full album of the images of the book’s contents to your e-mail account right now.”

He hesitated for a moment. “Not even negotiating for a job in exchange?”

Melissa glanced at Rafferty, well aware that he was listening. She smiled at him, noting the intensity of his gaze. “Whatever will be, will be. What’s most important to me is the truth, Doug.”

And the whole truth was a thousand times stranger than Doug imagined. Melissa knew the story wouldn’t be complete without mention of Montmorency’s role as a
Slayer
, but she had promised not to mention the
Pyr
. Without a job, she had no commitment to the news team and wouldn’t have a conflict of interest.

“All right.” Doug gave her an e-mail address. “And you’re in England, right? Can I reach you at this number?”

Rafferty handed Melissa his cell phone, its number displayed. She met his gaze and he nodded once; then she read the number to Doug as an alternate.

Then she sent him the album of images.

“Insurance,” Rafferty said softly as the file loaded.

“Such as it is,” Melissa agreed, and he took her hand in his.

She breathed a sigh of relief when the transmission was done.

The file had just been dispatched when they heard footsteps running on the stairs. Eileen charged into the library, her hair loose and her expression concerned. Her black skirt was rumpled and she looked as if she had been crying. She braced her hands on the doorframe and fixed a stern glance on Rafferty. “Okay, that’s it. You have to tell me the story of the Sleeper and you have to tell me now. What’s this about crystals?”

Rafferty straightened, caution in every line of his body. “Why?” Melissa heard the wariness in his tone.

“Erik thinks he has to die. He thinks he’s going to fight Brandt and lose, and he thinks it’s because the Sleeper is awakening.” She exhaled shakily and spoke with ferocity. “He has to be wrong, but I need to know the story to figure it out.”

Rafferty moved to her side. “Let me talk to him.”

“He’s gone,” Eileen said, her tone savage. “Didn’t you hear him leave?”

Rafferty looked startled. He glanced back at Melissa, and she knew that either her quest or her presence had distracted him. She stood up, not wanting him to blame himself for whatever happened. They needed to focus on the facts and on what they could do to help. “I don’t understand. Who’s Brandt and why would he kill Erik?”

Eileen sighed. “He’s another
Pyr
, one who evidently Sloane and Erik promised to leave alone. They took a blood oath with him….”

“I remember this,” Rafferty said softly. “It was perhaps fifteen years ago.”

“You know Brandt, too?” Eileen asked. “Do you know where he is? Can you talk to him?”

Rafferty shook his head and urged her toward a chair. “He is Sloane’s cousin. A most passionate
Pyr
. Impetuous, and never more so than when his firestorm went awry. It was against Erik’s inclination to leave him alone, but Sloane knew him best and felt that only solitude would allow Brandt to heal. He had a son to raise, as well.”

“What happened to his mate?” Melissa asked.

Rafferty winced. “She spurned him, once she knew the truth of what he was. It was a bitter parting. I have wondered often about the son.” He looked careworn.

“But why would Brandt target Erik?” Melissa asked.

“Because Erik compelled Sloane to break his blood oath,” Eileen said. “He sent Sloane to warn Brandt and is convinced that Brandt will take vengeance upon Erik.” She frowned. “He had a vision of his own death. No, of himself walking among the dead.”

Rafferty inhaled sharply.

“But why did Erik do that?” Melissa asked. “You guys are all about tradition and protocol. He must have guessed the repercussions.”

“He thought he would win, at least until he had his vision,” Rafferty guessed, turning to pace.

“He had to warn Brandt, because Lorenzo had persuaded Erik to reveal Brandt. Erik didn’t know what Lorenzo would do with that information.”

Rafferty glanced up. “Because Lorenzo has beguiled Erik.”

Eileen nodded. “He sees that he has failed in every way. I’ve never seen him so defeatist.”

Silence fell in the library, a silence abruptly broken by a wail from upstairs. “Mamamamamamamamaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa,” Zoë cried.

“The stairs!” Eileen cried, and ran for her daughter.

It said something about her state of mind that she had left the toddler sleeping unsupervised. She returned a moment later, carrying the dark-haired girl, who smiled sunnily at them all.

Then Zoë extended her arms to Melissa in silent demand.

Melissa hesitated. She didn’t hold children as a rule. She didn’t need the reminder of what she’d never have. Her brother and his wife respected that. Melissa did better with older children, ones she could talk to.

“She won’t bite,” Eileen said with a smile. “At least she doesn’t very often.”

Well aware of Rafferty’s watchful gaze, Melissa accepted the weight of the toddler. She took a deep breath, reminding herself that this wasn’t a gesture fraught with meaning. Rafferty knew of her medical history and still hadn’t stepped away from her. She was simply holding a child. No more than that.

She could do this.

Zoë nestled against Melissa immediately, clearly right where she wanted to be. She smelled of baby shampoo and baby powder, soft clean smells, and she was warm. She took a fascination with Melissa’s earrings, reaching up to poke one with a chubby finger. “Pretty,” she pronounced, then smiled. Her eyes shone.

And something thawed within Melissa. She held Eileen’s child, the product of a firestorm, and let herself
feel
the reactions she’d locked safely away. She hadn’t allowed herself to weep for what she had lost. She had been so focused on remaining strong, on becoming better, on surviving and getting back into the rhythm of life, that she had never mourned her loss.

Maybe she’d never thought she’d miss it.

But now, now she stood with a child in her arms, and she wished with all her heart that she could have been the one to give Rafferty the child he so desired.

She wished she could be the destined mate he wanted her to be.

Instead of the human who was wreaking havoc in his world.

A tear slipped from her lashes, and Zoë sobered as she watched. Melissa would have wiped it away, but her arms were full of the toddler she didn’t want to drop.

It was Rafferty who came to her side and eased that tear away with his thumb. It was Rafferty who kissed her temple and slid his arm around her shoulders. It was Rafferty who brought those blue flames to leap and dance against her skin. Zoë laughed with delight, trying to catch the darkfire with her fingers.

Melissa glanced up and lost herself in Rafferty’s eyes. His gaze locked on her, and she could see the rim of gold in the deep chocolate of his eyes.

“Let me tell you a story,” he said softly, his voice low and rich, and Melissa was utterly seduced.

Erik soared into the sky, Brandt’s scent on the wind drawing him directly to his opponent. He was high above the clouds when he saw the brilliant orange of the younger
Pyr
. Brandt was just as vividly hued as Erik recalled. All the shades of orange and yellow were echoed in Brandt’s scales, as if he had stepped right out of the fire. Even the sunlight seemed to caress his scales in admiration.

It was a good indication of Brandt’s nature, for he was fiery, passionate, and quick to anger. He could be vengeful and hold a grudge for longer than might be expected.

That was the root of the dissent between the two of them.

Erik hovered and waited, seeing no point to rush to his demise. He gathered his strength, intent upon giving Brandt a good fight.

Sloane flew behind Brandt, his scales the color of tourmaline. He shaded from green to purple and back again over his length, his scales accented with gold. Erik could sense the Apothecary’s disapproval, even from a distance, and guessed that Sloane had argued with his cousin over this choice.

Brandt roared as he came closer, exhaling a plume of dragonfire in Erik’s direction. “
You have broken your word to me again!
” he said in old-speak.
“There will not be a third time.”

“
I have done what had to be done, for your own welfare
,” Erik retorted, convinced of his own choice.

“
And how exactly is that served by fighting?
” Sloane demanded, although the pair of adversaries ignored him. They locked talons, the force of their collision sending them rolling through the sky, and the fight began in earnest.

Erik Sorensson fought with all his might. He was determined that he would not leave this world quietly.

If he left it at all.

R
afferty looked at his destined mate, respected her resilience, humor, and curiosity, and believed that all could come right. He felt that she had locked away her emotions in order to deal with her illness and recovery, and in order to not be drawn down by the weight of betrayal. But she was a giving person, one filled with compassion, and he sensed the importance of that first tear.

She was healing, under the effect of the darkfire. He made the effort to meet her halfway. He chose the firestorm over the safety of the Sleeper.

It was clear that Melissa was someone who craved information. It was also apparent that no one could become fond of another in ignorance—she had to know what and who he was, just as he had to learn about her.

He liked her conviction that they could defeat Magnus together. That dovetailed perfectly with his own notion that a firestorm made a new whole of two halves. Plus, Melissa had promised to keep her silence about the
Pyr
. Rafferty believed her—and he believed that pledge to be indicative of her desire to see Magnus destroyed.

They had a goal in common, and she was prepared to take risks. Rafferty would figure out some way for Melissa to have her heart’s desire, as well. It was only fair.

But first things first.

“Let me tell you a story,” he said, leaning closer. The darkfire’s flames leapt and danced as the distance between them was diminished. “Once upon a time, there was a young
Pyr
who had been taught all he needed to know by his grandfather,” he said. “And that young
Pyr
, like so many young men, left the home he had known to seek his fortune.”

“Would we know this
Pyr
?” Eileen asked.

Rafferty smiled. “You might. He traveled steadily south, crossing large bodies of water and scaling mountains. Every experience was an adventure to him, and he savored the sights and sounds of the world. Over time, though, he realized that he was seeking something, something he hadn’t realized he wanted to find. He was seeking more of his and his grandfather’s kind, more
Pyr
, although he didn’t recognize as much until he found one. The
Pyr
stranger appeared to be a successful merchant, perhaps in his forties, but the young
Pyr
knew better. He was excited and fascinated by his discovery.”

“How did he know?” Melissa asked. “How do you recognize one another?”

“By scent,” Rafferty said. “He knew the stranger was of his own kind by his scent, familiar and yet exotic. Our senses are sharper than human senses: we can recognize not only our own kind by scent but often can identify specific individuals that way.”

“Okay.” Melissa reached for her book and made a note.”

“But it cuts both ways,” Rafferty continued. “The stranger recognized the young
Pyr
as what he was in the same way, and befriended him. He took him into his household, taught him his business, helped him to gain financial success. They became great friends and allies and partners. They even shared hoard.”

“A very close bond,” Eileen murmured.

Rafferty nodded. “That stranger’s name was Magnus Montmorency.”

“When was this?” Melissa asked. “And where?”

He recognized that she needed the facts, the root of the story to make it real. “It was in Venice. Magnus traded in oil and wine. It would have been about a thousand years ago.”

“So, he had already made the Elixir?” Eileen said.

“Yes, but I knew nothing of it. He traveled frequently, often leaving me in charge of his home and business. He confessed to distrusting his brother, and I took him at his word. I was young, and too ready to believe. He was good to me, and it never occurred to me that he might have his own agenda. I had never known anyone who was deceitful. It also never occurred to me that his wealth wasn’t commensurate with his official business. It turned out that Magnus also traded in mercenaries, slaves, and information.”

“Started that arms trader stuff early,” Melissa murmured. “No wonder he’s so good at it.”

“More than that,” Rafferty said. “I learned inadvertently during one of his absences that he did a brisk trade in medicinal supplies.” Eileen caught her breath, and Rafferty knew she anticipated his next words. “A customer came into the shop asking after his order for ground dragon hide.”

“But it wasn’t…,” Melissa began to protest.

“It
was
.” Rafferty was firm. “Magnus brought it with him on his return. I knew from the scent in the vial that it was precisely what the customer had requested.”

“So, it was Magnus who started that,” Eileen said, her disapproval clear.

“I asked him about it, one night when he had been drinking of the wine stock,” Rafferty admitted. “He was quite proud of himself, and informed me that it was not only a profitable trade in itself but an excellent way to be rid of one’s enemies. That Magnus had enough enemies to have built a business in their body parts told me there was much I did not know about him.”

“He was a
Slayer
, though, right?” Melissa asked.

“No,” Rafferty said. “The distinction was not clear at that point. It came later when those who turned against the Great Wyvern found their blood black instead of red.”

“But there was always evil within the
Pyr
,” Eileen supplied. “As there is in all kinds.” Melissa nodded in agreement.

“And there appears to have been a gradual progression,” Rafferty said. “Although Magnus’s blood did not run black at that time, and he was not technically a
Slayer
, he had lived for centuries and had never had a firestorm. He was undeniably self-motivated, and his brother, Maximilian, repeatedly warned him that his choices were the reason he was without a firestorm. His brother wanted Magnus to change.”

“Montmorency will never change,” Melissa said, her tone grim.

“But he has a charm about him. On dark nights, in solitude, I feared for my own future. What if Magnus decided I knew too much? Or that he took a dislike to me, like the one he had to his own brother—a
Pyr
I found quite pleasant company and above any criticism. In daylight, though, I was well aware of the benefits of my situation and dismissed my fears. I reasoned that it was the brother who was deceptive—neither of them had had a firestorm, after all, despite their ages, and both were charming when they so chose.”

“I’ll guess that you learned your mistake,” Melissa said.

Rafferty smiled at her perceptiveness. “Magnus’s true nature was revealed when his brother had his firestorm. Both Magnus and I felt the firestorm, of course, for it was potent and close at hand. His brother was exultant at his good fortune, and apparently the woman was amenable to his attentions. He came to the shop to share his good news. Magnus said Maximilian had come to gloat, and he brooded that night, then declared he had to go to Spain.” Rafferty paused. “I never saw Maximilian again. But a fortnight after his visit, Magnus returned early from Spain with a fresh vial of dragon bone powder.”

“It wasn’t,” Melissa protested.

Rafferty nodded. “It
was
. I smelled Maximilian’s scent within it.”

The women looked as sickened by this as Rafferty felt.

“Did he know that you guessed its source?” Melissa asked.

Rafferty shook his head. “No. He was jubilant and in a celebratory mood. I pretended to drink with him, to welcome him home. Then, when he was besotted, I sought Maximilian’s mate.”

“Did you find her?” Eileen asked, leaning forward.

Rafferty nodded and saw Melissa’s relief. Was it his imagination that the darkfire flames were leaping higher? He was keenly aware of the charms of his mate, sitting so close beside him, and recalling Maximilian’s demise made him feel fiercely protective of Melissa.

“How did you find her?” Melissa asked.

“I went to Maximilian’s home, but there was no trail to follow. Much had been destroyed, burned, and broken. But I recalled that he had a faithful manservant. Magnus had never been much interested in servants, but I had spoken several times to this man—while the brothers were cloistered with their business. It took me days to find him, for his scent had been well disguised, but when I found him and persuaded him of my goodwill, he took me to her.”

Rafferty frowned. “She had just realized that she was pregnant and was fighting her family’s conclusion that her lover had abandoned her,” he said. “I told her the truth and vowed to defend her. She was devastated by the loss of Maximilian, and I realized that she had loved him truly. It was the first time I had witnessed the feelings of any mate, and I wondered then what might have happened if Maximilian had survived.”

“Your grandmother must have loved your grandfather,” Melissa pointed out.

Rafferty smiled, appreciating her observation. “Indeed. You are right.” He took her free hand in his, savoring the feminine softness of her skin, thinking of challenging the firestorm’s flames once again.

Then he continued. “At any rate, her safety had to be assured. I hid her in a secure location while I made my plans, and the manservant kept vigil over her. I asked Magnus once about his brother and the firestorm, as if I had no idea what had happened, and he said his brother had abandoned his mate. He said she was incapable of conceiving a son, that the firestorm was a lie, and that his brother had been so distraught that he had left the city. I knew then that Maximilian’s last act had been to protect his lover and unborn son by refusing to reveal her name or location.”

“And you assumed that role,” Melissa said, her approval clear.

“I also knew Magnus had a hoard in England and that it had been left undefended for centuries. He had accumulated it during the Roman domination of London and had been forced to abandon it. He was intent upon reclaiming what he declared was his own, but he had as yet not managed to do so. After several months, I commented that I wanted to visit my grandfather, and I offered to fetch it for him. Magnus, complacent in what he perceived to be a complete victory over his brother, agreed.”

“And you took the mate with you,” Eileen guessed.

“I did. And I entrusted her to my grandfather’s care, in his remote cave in Wales. He was delighted by the company, for she was a new audience for all his tales. She was less happy, for she mourned the loss of Maximilian, but she was safe there, especially with Maximilian’s manservant. I returned to Venice, knowing that Magnus would be counting the days, and took part of his English hoard to him.”

“Was he fooled?” Melissa asked.

“Not entirely. He suspected something, although he didn’t know what. He had never asked after the identity of Maximilian’s mate, and without the heat of the firestorm, he couldn’t find her. Perhaps deception has a scent to one who traffics in it so regularly, for by the time I returned, he was certain I had betrayed him. He counted the silver from the English hoard obsessively, accusing me of taking some for myself. He became increasingly volatile, and I truly feared for my life.”

“Why didn’t you leave?” Eileen demanded.

“I didn’t want him to find the mate and the child.”

“He had to stay undercover until the story was in the can,” Melissa said.

Rafferty nodded. “I wanted her pregnancy to proceed normally, and I feared that if I returned to Wales, he would follow me and destroy them both, just as he had destroyed his brother. I didn’t count upon our refined senses.”

“What do you mean?” Melissa asked.

“We feel when another of our kind is born, like hearing a distant cry in the night. We don’t smell the child or hear it, per se, but we are aware of its arrival. I heard Maximilian’s son in the same instant that Magnus did. He came to me in a rage, in dragon form. He said he would have my hide for my deception, and we fought fiercely that night. Only when he was wounded and fallen, only when I thought him dead, did I dare to go to her.”

“He tricked you,” Eileen guessed.

Rafferty nodded. “He was fast on my tail, so much more wily than I could ever have been.”

Melissa put her hand on his arm. “It’s liars who know instinctively how to deceive. It’s a learned skill for the rest of us.” She smiled at him, but Rafferty still dreaded telling the rest of the story. He was ashamed of his own role in it.

“Of course, I led him to my grandfather’s cave, unwittingly, but still I did it. My grandfather sat by his peat fire, breathing smoke rings into the night. The woman had died, her corpse was still there, and she looked more at rest than she had when I had met her earlier.”

“And the child?” Eileen asked.

“There was a dead baby in her arms. Magnus arrived and slaughtered the manservant ‘for his deception.’ I was horrified that my grandfather acted as if he were more ancient than he was; that he offered the dead child to Magnus, as if that old dragon had come to honorably claim his kin. I protested, but my grandfather put me in my place.”

Melissa watched Rafferty with obvious horror, but he continued.

“Pwyll spoke more harshly to me than ever he had, and Magnus, Magnus was sated by the offering. He was even magnanimous, reminding me only of my inability to deceive him as his price from me. He surrendered me to my grandfather for discipline, and they acted like old allies. Magnus then incinerated the child and claimed the ashes, abandoned the woman there, and returned to Venice.” Rafferty fell silent, remembering the darkness of that night and his own disappointment at the time.

“But I don’t understand,” Melissa said. “What does this have to do with the Sleeper?”

“The Sleeper is Maximilian’s child,” Rafferty said.

Melissa frowned. “But he died.”

Rafferty shook his head. “It was not Maximilian’s child who died that night. It was another human child, one my grandfather substituted for Maximilian’s son. Marcus had already been hidden away by the time Magnus and I arrived.”