“But how did the child die?” Melissa asked, still confused.
Rafferty drummed his fingers on the table, and she saw that this story was difficult for him to tell. “Pwyll had killed it. He had anticipated Magnus’s arrival and intent. He explained that he would have preferred to have found a dead child, but it had to have the right scent of death about it. Time and location had limited his choices. We argued about his choice. He insisted it had been for the greater good, the defense of the
Pyr
and Maximilian’s son, but I was outraged by his deed.”
Melissa was outraged, too. She made notes, appalled by what had occurred. Were humans merely useful to the
Pyr
?
“What happened to Maximilian’s son?” Eileen asked.
“My grandfather was the last Cantor of our kind. He could spin a spell with his song. He enchanted the child and disguised him from Magnus.”
“He could even hide his scent?” Eileen asked.
“He could,” Rafferty said. “He could enchant anything. He could turn anything to his will. His song was so powerful.” He sighed. “He called it the mystery of the crystals.”
“Crystals again,” Eileen said.
“Did he teach you how to do that?” Melissa asked, not entirely certain she wanted to know the answer. “Did he teach you the mystery?”
Rafferty met her gaze, and she saw his resolve. “I refused to learn. I refused to have any part in his chant. He offered to mentor me again and again, but I have never had a taste for deception.”
“Then I’m guessing you don’t know where the third crystal is, either,” Eileen said.
Rafferty shook his head. “Nor should I know about this sorcery! Things must proceed as they must, not be tricked into serving the will of another. It is not right to put one’s own desires above all else.”
Eileen pursed her lips. “There is the question of the greater good.”
“The greater good?” Rafferty said, his voice rising in challenge. “How was that choice good for the human child? Who is to say which life was more important? Who among us should decide who lives and who dies?”
“Maybe Pwyll knew,” Eileen suggested. “Erik has foresight.”
“Maybe Pwyll chose
Pyr
over human, independent of the cost,” Rafferty said with disgust. “Maybe Pwyll saw himself as an arbiter. I refused to learn his powers and take that legacy.”
“Amen,” Melissa said under her breath.
“But you could use the power of the Cantor for good,” Eileen argued.
Rafferty shook his head. “I fear it is seductive to turn others to one’s will. I fear that Pwyll began in goodness, but that the power was heady and turned him to his own intent.”
Melissa made a note. There was something to be said for that perspective.
Rafferty sighed. “That night, I saw only wickedness in his choice and his powers. I even accused him of killing the mate for the sake of convenience. He was enraged by the suggestion, and we fought for the first and last time. It was vicious, though we battled only with words.”
He picked up the crystal and turned it in his fingers. His voice dropped, as if he were speaking to himself. “He begged me to be the guardian of the Sleeper, to become heir of his crystals, but I was too angry to do anything he asked of me. I refused him. I refused his council. I refused his knowledge. I refused even this stone. He vowed to mentor another, but I didn’t care about his threats. I left and I never saw him again.”
Eileen grimaced. “So the knowledge of the Cantor was lost forever.”
“I have principles,” Rafferty said, biting out the words. “And I am not ashamed of them.”
Melissa frowned at her notes. “But wait a minute. Isn’t that the crystal linked to the Sleeper?” Rafferty nodded, and Melissa noted that its light was more brilliantly blue. Zoë was watching it so avidly that she didn’t seem to blink. “If you refused to take it, then how did you get it?”
“He was the Cantor,” Rafferty said, tears rising in his eyes. “I felt him die. I heard his last song, a hundred years later. It haunted me in his attempt to draw me back to his side, to see us reconciled. I heard his despair that his knowledge would be lost.”
“You didn’t go to him,” Melissa guessed, her words soft.
Rafferty shook his head. “Not even at the end.”
She turned their hands so that her fingers held his, then gave his hand a squeeze.
“I refused to go. I was still young and proud and angry.” He paused and swallowed. “At least I was angry until I heard the last note of the song fade to nothing, until there was no more. I knew he was gone from this world. I was certain of it when I found this crystal in my hoard, as surely as if he had placed it there with his own hand.”
“He did it with his song,” Eileen murmured.
Rafferty nodded, looking sick. “I could have met him halfway. I could have consoled him at the last, not left him in solitude, without learning his talent. But I didn’t, and now the rift between us will never be healed.”
His words hung in the library for a long moment, filled with his regret.
“What a touching story,” Montmorency drawled at sudden proximity. “Or is it just a rationalization for a failure?”
The three gasped and stood up as one, turning in place as they surveyed the room. Melissa held the toddler close, her heart pounding in fear. Rafferty shimmered blue around his perimeter, his gaze sharp as he sought the intruder.
Where was Montmorency? What would he do? He was injured, so Melissa guessed he would make a daring play.
Zoë pointed one finger at the ceiling. “Orge,” she said matter-of-factly.
But the salamander perched on the light fixture was jade green, not orange. Its eyes glinted like beads and its tongue flicked, the sway of its tail setting the pendulum light to swinging.
“So many choices,” Magnus murmured. “The mate, the new Wyvern, or that old blood duel. How shall I choose?”
“The duel,” Rafferty said flatly. “Finish what has begun.” He put himself between Melissa and the salamander, and Melissa felt as if sparks were flying from his flesh. She put her free hand on his shoulder, making the darkfire crackle and leap.
Magnus sighed with satisfaction. “How kind you are to feed my strength.” And he laughed.
Melissa retreated, holding Zoë with both hands and leaving a space between herself and Rafferty. Eileen came to her side. Rafferty snatched for the salamander, but it disappeared suddenly.
“Where did he go?” Melissa asked.
“There!” Eileen cried just as Montmorency manifested right in front of Rafferty. The jade salamander latched on to Rafferty’s throat and bit deeply.
Right in the jugular.
Rafferty cried out in pain as red blood seeped from the wound. He shifted shape in a heartbeat, filling the library with his powerful presence, and roared. He slashed at the salamander, his talons gleaming against the carpets. For an instant, he held Montmorency in his grip. He began to squeeze, and the green salamander disappeared again. The blood flowed more vigorously from Rafferty’s throat, brilliant red against the opal splendor of his scales, as he scanned the room.
“You’re hurt!” Melissa cried, and stepped toward him.
“Oh no, darling,” Montmorency murmured in her ear. The salamander appeared on her shoulder, his tail sliding back and forth with apparent glee. “You’re coming with me.”
“No!” Melissa tried to brush off the salamander, but it dug its nails into her flesh. She cried out in pain, shoving at it in desperation and revulsion. Eileen snatched Zoë from Melissa’s arms and the toddler screamed. Rafferty roared and lunged toward Melissa, his teeth bared and his eyes flashing.
This time, when Montmorency disappeared, Melissa disappeared with him. She was suddenly surrounded by swirling mist, caught in a kind of limbo.
“Bye-bye,” Zoë said from some distant point, then started to cry.
“Something of mine for something of yours,” Montmorency taunted Rafferty. “Tell me the location of the Sleeper and I’ll return your mate. Seems a fair trade, don’t you think?”
“You can’t ask him to betray the Sleeper!” Melissa protested. She feared that Rafferty would pay the ransom and she’d still be sacrificed. There was nothing to be gained in negotiating with mercenaries like Montmorency, but she feared Rafferty might have too much faith.
“No? I’m feeling rather persuasive.” Montmorency laughed. “And if there is some collateral damage, well, justice may be served.”
The mists swirled whiter, abruptly clearing to reveal a storage room made of concrete blocks. It had a steel door, which was clearly secured. There was no window and no other opening, and the floor was fitted stones. Melissa could tell by the damp smell that she was trapped somewhere in the earth, and she sensed weight over them. There were wooden boxes stacked in the corner and several coils of jute rope. It looked like a forgotten space.
She guessed that no one would answer her pounding on the door, but she moved to try, anyway.
Rafferty was shaken.
One instant, Magnus had appeared. The next he was gone, Melissa with him. Eileen made a small noise and clutched Zoë close as the toddler cried.
Rafferty knew immediately what he had to do. His first responsibility was to his mate, independent of his injuries. It was the firestorm, after all, that had put her in peril.
He had to follow Magnus, wherever his foe might go.
He would have happily traded the Sleeper’s location for Melissa’s safety, but he knew Magnus wasn’t trustworthy. He had to save Melissa himself first, then destroy Magnus, once and for all.
It was the only way.
There was no trail to follow from his library, in contrast to the incident at Melissa’s home. Magnus had simply vanished, and Melissa with him. The only way to pursue his enemy was to use Magnus’s own technique. Rafferty had to learn to spontaneously manifest in other locations, under his own power.
And he had to master it immediately.
He could only hope that Melissa had been right; that the ability had been known in the past by those who had not drunk the Elixir. It had been long believed to be one of the feats in the arsenal of the Wyvern alone, but even Sophie hadn’t consistently been able to perform it. Rafferty chose to believe it was a talent lost.
He chose to believe that his grandfather had done it.
Rafferty stretched out his hand, seeing the faint flicker of those blue flames erupting from his fingertips. He focused on them, concentrating on Melissa and recalling her many charms. His desire grew and the flames burned brighter, their roots turning green as they licked at the air.
Could the darkfire guide him to his mate? The flame slid around the ring that he always wore. The white in the ring seemed to glow in the darkfire’s light, taking on a blue pearlescence.
Rafferty bent his attention on the ring, concentrating upon it, thinking of Melissa; to his amazement, it seemed to swirl on his hand. He recalled that Sophie and Nikolas had died together, united in their purpose to destroy Magnus’s hidden academy.
He had already chosen to work with Melissa to destroy Magnus. Now he would risk everything to see the deed done.
Rafferty could feel the ring moving, sliding around his finger. He could feel the blue flame of the darkfire winding beneath it, making the skin on his finger prickle.
He heard Magnus begin to sing the song of the earth and feared the worst. Hearing the earth reply in kind, he knew he didn’t dare add his voice to the song.
Humans would be injured in a busy city like this one. He’d made that mistake before, in DC, acting on the darkfire’s impulse. He would not make it again.
He would simply move through space, to his mate’s side.
The ring spun, burning his hand, the white and the black blending together in a blurred spiral. Rafferty recalled his last sight of Sophie and Nikolas, and he saw the darkfire flames take the same insistent beat as had echoed through Magnus’s hidden academy in that same moment.
The ring pulsed, but it pulsed with greenish blue light now.
Darkfire.
Rafferty sang a song he had heard his grandfather hum. Eileen murmured something, but he was focused. The blue light of the darkfire radiated so brightly from the ring that he had to narrow his eyes.
But Rafferty didn’t look away from the ring. He dared not break the spell now, not when he didn’t fully understand what had awakened it.
He concentrated and he yearned and he thought about what Magnus could do. He thought of his grandfather, of Pwyll’s ability as the Cantor, and wished he had learned more when he’d had such a teacher available.
He dared to believe Melissa’s suggestion that such power could have been used for good.
He recalled his grandfather’s cadence, his posture, and his tone. He remembered how Pwyll’s voice had risen and fallen when he told his stories. He remembered how romantic Pwyll had been, how idealistic and powerful. Rafferty dared to miss the man he had loved so well.
A tear slid from his eye at his own folly.
The ring responded. He felt his skin prickle; he felt the shimmer of the change dancing through his body. It wasn’t the usual change, though; it wasn’t the shift to dragon form. He felt on the cusp of something unfamiliar; something terrifying.
All Rafferty could see was pulsing blue-green light, and the spinning ring at the middle of it all.
He didn’t care about the details. He had to get to Melissa.
He had to reach her immediately.
In the very moment Rafferty believed he could spontaneously manifest beside Melissa—that it was a reality, not a possibility—he felt the air move abruptly around him.
He also felt a nausea so profound that he closed his eyes and fell to his knees.
Had Rafferty done it?
Or had Magnus summoned him again?
B
efore Melissa reached the door, a flash of green appeared on the floor.
Montmorency! Melissa moved to stamp on his tail and managed to catch the end of it under her foot. Montmorency wriggled and the tail broke, squishing beneath her heel even as he scampered away. Melissa went after him.
“Bitch!” he hissed, his small bright eyes filled with malice. “You think you can destroy me? Let’s see which of us survives this day.”
Melissa was willing to take the dare, but he slipped through one of the cracks in the floor. She could see the beady shine of his eyes in the shadows.
She wasn’t going to let him see her sweat.
“So, you’re afraid of me now,” she taunted. “A powerful dragon shape shifter and an international arms dealer, but you’re hiding from
me
.”
The salamander hissed; then Montmorency appeared on the other side of the chamber. He was holding his gut with one arm and looked pale; he was also favoring one leg. His eyes, though, shone with anger. “You, mere human. You think you can destroy me, but I will finish you instead.”
“Looks like Rafferty’s winning,” Melissa observed.
Montmorency scoffed. “Let me tell you something. Once upon a time, there was a young
Pyr
who traveled south from his homeland in search of his fortune and adventure. He was so stupid that he didn’t know that he had left the greatest opportunity of all behind him in Wales. He was too stupid to recognize that he didn’t have to go anywhere to learn everything he could possibly want to know.”
Melissa folded her arms across her chest. “Rafferty isn’t stupid.”
Montmorency laughed. “Well, then it’s a special kind of intellect that had him decline to learn the ancient wisdom of the Cantor. Twice. Any individual with a passing intelligence would have leapt at the opportunity to learn how to control everything and everyone with a spell, never mind the legacy of those crystals. I certainly aspired to learn the Cantor’s skill.”
“But you didn’t.”
“Pwyll would never teach me. He was determined to teach only those of his blood lineage, but that was an excuse. He was snotty about mentoring others, always judging character first, always finding everyone wanting. But when I sensed the grandson of Pwyll heading south, I ensured that I crossed his path. Several times. I made it look like an accident that we met. I let him befriend me.”
“You intended to use him.”
Montmorency grimaced. “Except that he knew nothing! Do you know how many chances I have had to destroy Rafferty Powell, yet have chosen not to do so? Do you know how many opportunities I have given him to come into his grandfather’s powers, to show some glimmer of those capabilities?”
“So you could steal them.”
Montmorency shrugged. “Such skill might as well be wielded by someone who intends to use it. I knew that Pwyll wouldn’t want his knowledge simply to fade into obscurity. I knew he had to leave a legacy somehow for Rafferty. And he did.” He leaned closer, his manner intent. “Consider now that the Sleeper stirs. Bewitched by the Cantor, my own nephew has slumbered for a thousand years. I’ll bet he doesn’t look his age.” Montmorency’s voice dropped to a hiss. “That’s awfully close to immortality, isn’t it?”
Melissa backed away. “It’s not quite the same. More like a coma, from the sound of it.”
“I’m not in a position to be overly picky,” Montmorency said easily. “I’ll bet he learned something from Pwyll, coming from such superior genetic stock as he does. And now the legacy of those crystals is more or less in the family.”
“Not the way I see it.”
Montmorency scoffed. “Imagine what I could do with a thousand-year extension? I might be able to brew a new source of the Dragon’s Blood Elixir. I might be able to find a substitute.” Montmorency smiled. “I might be able to turn the Cantor’s spell to my own use, if I could find the Sleeper in time.”
“I don’t know where he is.”
Montmorency laughed. “Oh, I know that. You are useless, but irritating. You have revealed me and ensured that I am exiled from my principal lair.”
“Then why are you telling me all of this?”
“So you’ll know how the story ends, of course. Seeing that you won’t be around to witness it yourself.” Montmorency smiled, shimmered, and caught his breath. Then he became a large jade green dragon, one that nearly filled the space. “The only unfortunate part is that I don’t have the time to savor your death, to make you truly pay for your transgressions. Perhaps the fire will be punishment enough.”
Without delay, he began to breathe fire. He filled the small room with orange flames, flames that burned hot and vivid. Melissa’s sleeve and the hem of her jeans caught fire, and she could feel her skin beginning to singe.
Montmorency laughed, which only made the fire burn brighter. The wooden crates ignited and so did the rope, the room filling with dark, oily smoke. Melissa coughed and pounded on the door; then she ran her hands over the walls, seeking a point of weakness.
She didn’t find one. Desperation rose within her, even as Montmorency disappeared abruptly from view. She spun, alone and surrounded by hungry flames. She heard him laugh as he abandoned her to her fate.
Montmorency’s voice rose in a song that Melissa didn’t know. Seeming to have no words, it was more like a chant, but was oddly rousing. It made her heart pound faster, her pulse matching the rhythm of the chant.
What did it mean?
Melissa wasn’t the only one stirred by Montmorency’s song. The earth vibrated and shifted underfoot, matching its tremors to a persistent yet unfamiliar chant. Even as she stared at the ground, she felt it shift and vibrate. She remembered Rafferty’s claim that he had created an earthquake in DC and eyed the trembling stone ceiling over her head.
She’d be buried alive!
It had only been two nights since she’d reasoned that she had nothing left to sacrifice. In this moment, though, it was clear to Melissa that she had a great deal to lose.
Rafferty took a deep breath and opened his eyes.
In the exact same moment, he heard Melissa’s voice.
“Rafferty!” she said with astonishment. Her fingertips landed on his shoulder, a flash of darkfire accompanying her touch. The heat of the firestorm slid through Rafferty, reassuring and arousing him all at once.
And there was no sign of Magnus. He’d done it!
Rafferty’s heart leapt with joy, a joy he saw echoed in Melissa’s smile. He stood up, catching her close, restoring his strength with the firestorm’s heat even as he scanned their prison. It was thick with smoke, and the earth was shifting beneath them.
He heard Magnus’s old-speak at a distance, and the words made his heart clench.
“
Find the Sleeper
,” Magnus declared, “
and I’ll deliver on our deal.
”
Then he heard Jorge’s assent.
So, they were still allied and still alive.
“You did it,” Melissa said, smiling back at him.
No, they’d done it together. Rafferty’s heart glowed that Melissa had shown him the other side of the story he knew so well and had helped him to find a solution.
All the same, he wasn’t entirely confident that he could move through space again so soon after the first time. He felt weakened by the exercise and didn’t want to risk Melissa to his own inexperience.
They would escape this prison the old-fashioned way.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said, coaxing her to one side of the room. Rafferty shifted shape, nearly filling the small chamber with his dragon form. He bellowed and thrashed at the steel door, then struck it with his tail. Magnus’s song grew in volume, and pieces of stone began to fall from the ceiling.
“Hurry!” Melissa said.
The door bent from the hinges, offering a gap that he could grasp. Rafferty drove his talons into the space and tore away the door, discarding it on the floor of the chamber.
“You did it!” she said, peering past him into the space beyond. She was so fearless that he smiled in admiration.
“You have to kill him and finish the duel,” Melissa said with resolve. “No negotiation and no ransom.”
Rafferty wasn’t surprised that their thoughts were as one.
She frowned at him. “And you’re still bleeding.” She touched the wound on his throat. Blue darkfire danced from her fingertips, slid across his skin, cauterized the cut.
They truly were a potent pair.
No sooner had Rafferty had the realization that it was his mate who had brought him the strength to recover the past, no sooner had his heart filled with gratitude, than he felt something slip. He knew what it was even before he looked down at his chest.
He’d lost a scale. It fell into the dust on the floor, glimmering like a gem lost in ashes. He knew the import of that.
He’d fallen in love with his mate.
But their union was far from secure, and the Smith had chosen not to come to Rafferty’s firestorm. He’d have to defend his mate with his armor flawed. He’d have to kill Magnus, despite his vulnerability.
He shifted shape, his victorious mood shattered. He bent and picked up the large opalescent scale, knowing he couldn’t abandon the path of the firestorm and the trust it required.
“What’s that?” Melissa asked.
Rafferty handed her the scale. “Something I would ask you to keep for me.”
Melissa’s eyes widened, and he thought she realized what the scale was as soon as she held it in her hands. She turned it over and over, studying it. “Won’t you need it put back?” she asked.
“Yes. But the time has not yet come.”
Melissa glanced away. “But this means that part of you isn’t protected.”
Rafferty nodded in agreement but didn’t have time to elaborate. The earth rumbled again, responding to Magnus’s song, and he feared for Melissa’s safety. “Let’s get to the surface again.”
He had a sense of foreboding, but he refused to indulge it. He wouldn’t consider that he had too many obligations and could be in only one place at a time.
He chose instead to trust that the way would become clear.
And it did.
Once they were out of the chamber, Melissa realized they were in a storage space. It smelled cold and musty, and she couldn’t see much. She held on to Rafferty’s hand, letting him lead her onward.
“Aha!” he murmured, and she guessed that he recognized either the space or its scent. He moved more quickly then, which suited her just fine.
The earth rumbled underfoot, and stone was falling all around them. The blue flames of the darkfire danced between them, illuminating cut stone walls with square blocks, making the space look eerie.
Melissa realized belatedly that it
was
eerie. The blocks were actually hinged doorways, and each one bore both a name and a date.
They were in a mausoleum.
“It’s beneath Highgate,” Rafferty said, as if that was supposed to mean something to Melissa. “A lower chamber, no longer in use or safely accessible to visitors. I remember when it was built.” Melissa just hung on to him and tried to ignore the moldy smell.
He led her to a metal staircase that climbed in a spiral. It looked rusted and entirely unreliable. It was also ornate, rich with Victorian filigree. Melissa assumed that the dead descended to this space by some other means. Rafferty leapt up the stairs, clearly convinced of where it headed.
Melissa hesitated, seeing only darkness above, then followed Rafferty’s lead. She hoped it wasn’t far to the top. He halted ahead of her suddenly, then grunted as he shoved against a trapdoor overhead. Dust fell all around her, and Melissa closed her eyes against the debris, her fingers locked on the handrail.
Magnus’s song grew suddenly stronger. She felt the earth ripple and the staircase topple. Her eyes flew open as the entire space rocked with force and the stone ceiling began to fall in earnest. Rafferty shoved and grunted again, then shifted shape with a roar. He pummeled the trapdoor, and Melissa heard it shift.
In the same moment, she heard the staircase pull free of its mooring. It swayed as the earth rumbled and danced below. Stone panels fell in the mausoleum and crashed to the floor, dust rising in a dark cloud.
Then gray light pierced the scene. The staircase swayed as he leapt ahead, shifting shape to land in human form on the solid earth above. Rafferty pivoted and reached back to grab Melissa’s hand, his firm grip closing over her hand in the nick of time.
He held fast and hauled her up to the surface. Melissa barely caught her breath before the earth shook with vigor again. They were in a cemetery all right, one thick with moss and lavish memorials. The sky was solid gray and the rain was pattering down.
And the earth was heaving in answer to Magnus’s song. Crevices emerged in the ground and memorials toppled. Rafferty and Melissa ran, trying to avoid the gaping pits that opened on every side.
“You have to kill him,” Melissa said, even as she slipped on wet stone. “You have to stop this.”
“I’m not worried about the dead here,” Rafferty muttered. “It’s the living who concern me.”
“What do you mean?”
“The subway tunnel has collapsed in four places on the Northern line,” he said, clearly torn between his responsibilities. “Humans have been put in peril.”
“Just as he threatened.” Melissa eyed Rafferty, knowing he was worried about her, too. She had an idea how she could solve his problem of wanting to be in two places at once. “Do you have your cell phone?”
He blinked, then tugged it from the pocket of his jeans. He handed it to her, clearly trusting her instinct, whatever it was. “What are you going to do?”
“No one ever dies on the air,” she informed him with a smile, using Bill’s favorite logic for getting on with the broadcast, whatever current conditions might be. “Too many witnesses. Sometimes the safest place to be is reporting live from the scene.”
“Call Doug,” Rafferty said, understanding immediately. “You can be the reporter on the scene for the earthquake.”
“Exactly,” Melissa agreed as she punched in the familiar number. She continued before he asked. “And don’t worry. I’ll make no mention of the
Pyr
. We have a deal.” She met his gaze. “Although I can’t be responsible for whatever anyone else records.”