Darkfire Kiss (35 page)

“Pwyll knows,” Erik said softly.

Melissa didn’t need any more assurance than that. She bolted down the stairs and retrieved the crystal. It was still lit with the darkfire’s blue light, and the spark inside it became brighter when she picked it up. Melissa raced back up the stairs, even as she heard the rumble of thunder overhead. She skidded into the room and smiled at Rafferty.

“I’m sure I’m right,” she said with her old confidence. She took the crystal and put it into Rafferty’s hand. “You’re Pwyll’s grandson and the closest thing he has to an heir. You need to try.”

Erik cleared his throat. “Pwyll says he’ll help.”

Eileen’s eyes went round, and she moved closer to Erik, her hand slipping into his. Their fingers interlaced and locked, and Melissa realized they had some fear about awakening the Sleeper.

But she shared Rafferty’s trust in the goodness of fate. She smiled at him, and saw the spark of hope deep in his gaze. “Maybe he sent some of that expertise to you, along with this. Maybe that’s one of the things dark-fire can awaken—not just the Sleeper himself, but your memories of the Cantor.” And she handed the stone back to him, expectation bright in her eyes. “You should try.”

Rafferty’s lips took on a set of resolve, and his eyes glinted with purpose. He took the stone from Melissa, its blue light burning even brighter and painting his palms with that sapphire hue. He closed his hands around it. Melissa saw his determination grow. She saw it eclipse his exhaustion.

And then Rafferty began to sing.

R
afferty was astounded. For centuries, he had mourned his failure to make amends with his grandfather, and that grief had hidden the possibility of his inheriting Pwyll’s gifts from his own view. Pwyll had never used his powers for ill purposes. He was reassured by Melissa’s confession that Magnus had tried to persuade Pwyll to teach him, but Pwyll had declined.

It would have been entirely consistent with Pwyll’s nature to choose deliberately among apprentices.

Yet Rafferty had chosen to ignore that his grandfather had selected him and that he had been invited to learn the Cantor’s gift. He had recalled only his own reasons for declining.

But the stone felt right in his hand. It always had. And he had been profoundly relieved when it had turned up in his home after Pwyll’s death. Rafferty summoned the image of his grandfather and mimicked his pose as well as he was able. He could still see the old
Pyr
holding this crystal just so. He could hear his grandfather’s voice and recall the resonance of his words. He knew the tune; he knew it even better than he realized once he began the chant.

He remembered how Pwyll’s voice had risen and fallen when he cast his charms. Although it had been centuries, Rafferty mimicked that intonation as well as he could.

The stone responded. The flame danced bright and hot, burning his fingers and sending a charge through his body. He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He felt the crackle of energy, far beyond anything he’d felt before. He saw the brilliant blue emanating from the stone. Rafferty was on the cusp of something unfamiliar.

Magical.

“Another verse,” Erik murmured, and Rafferty knew he was channeling Pwyll’s counsel. He didn’t question the advice but simply did as Erik had bidden him.

And the power grew. It bucked and rippled beneath the influence of his song. It snapped and crackled, the stone feeling almost fluid in his grip. Rafferty realized he could shape this energy, that he could direct it with his song. He dared to believe that Sloane’s father had been right, that there was good to be found with darkfire.

Hadn’t he found Melissa?

He wished fervently for the darkfire to be satisfied, for the ordeals visited upon the
Pyr
by its power to be completed. He wished as he built the power; then he turned the point of the crystal toward the Sleeper.

He barely had time to brace himself.

There was a crack in the room, followed by a blinding flash of light. Rafferty thought lightning had struck within the space; yet that was impossible.

But still… A blue spark had shot from the stone and struck the Sleeper right in the heart. The Sleeper jumped; then the room fell into darkness. The stone was cold in his hand and Rafferty was shaking.

What had he done?

“Power’s out,” Sloane said softly. Rafferty heard someone flick the light switch, but the lights didn’t come on.

“Flashlight,” he said weakly, certain his body couldn’t take any more. Melissa held fast to his hand, stroking his arm, her presence giving him strength. “Hall table drawer.”

Brandt left the room, returning with a flashlight. He turned it on, and the beam of light slid around the room, landing on the Sleeper.

Who was sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

“Pwyll?” the Sleeper asked, speaking with the cadence of Welsh.

“No,” Rafferty replied in Welsh. “Pwyll is dead. I am Rafferty, his grandson.”

The Sleeper smiled. “He told me of you, always with great admiration. I am honored.” After they shook hands, he pointed to the crystal in Rafferty’s hand. “I believe that stone is mine.”

Rafferty glanced down at the stone, surprised by the brightness of the spark in it. He was reluctant to let it go. “This was used to enchant you.”

The Sleeper nodded. “It is but one of three stones that contain the darkfire.”

“Do you know the location of the others?” Erik asked.

The Sleeper shook his head when the question was translated. “Pwyll warned me that it would be my task to hunt them. One, I know, is already lost.”

“How can that be?” Rafferty asked. He felt Sloane crowding closer, intent upon hearing every word.

The Sleeper smiled. “Did you not feel the darkfire? It can only be loosed on the world when the stone that holds it is shattered. Someone set it free, someone with malicious intent.”

Rafferty translated this, and the
Pyr
exchanged glances. “Magnus?” Sloane suggested.

Rafferty shook his head. “If he’d ever had the crystal, he would have kept it, bargained with it. He would never have destroyed it.”

“Chen,” Eileen said softly, and the
Pyr
fell silent at the likelihood of that.

But where was Chen?

The Sleeper continued, again indicating the crystal. “You have contained that measure of darkfire in this stone, adding it to the darkfire already there.”

The stone did burn with a brighter flame.

“It is the legacy of the Cantor to contain the dark-fire,” he continued. “To command it and to ensure that it is controlled. It is a responsibility, passed through your line.”

Rafferty frowned. “I do not know how to do this….”

“You do not have to,” the Sleeper said with resolve. “You have defended me and fulfilled the prophecy.” He stood with purpose. “The quest now is mine. Pwyll trained me for this.”

“The son he never had,” Rafferty said softly, regret in his heart.

“No.” The Sleeper held his gaze steadily, with no censure. “He said his line had paid dearly for the burden of darkfire. He loved you. He respected you. He wanted you to have the gifts of darkfire—and this is one of them.”

Then he plucked the stone from Rafferty’s hand, claiming it for his own. The flame in the crystal responded immediately, burning brilliantly and then settling to a blue-green glow.

The Sleeper smiled. “It is done, just as foretold.”

Before Rafferty could ask, the Sleeper looked around the room, his eyes bright with curiosity as he surveyed the others gathered there. “You must tell me of each member of this company.”

Rafferty gestured to the leader of the
Pyr
. “This is Erik Sorensson, the leader of the
Pyr
.”

“I welcome you to our ranks,” Erik said. “We can use every talon, and Pwyll has told me your guidance will be invaluable.”

Rafferty translated Erik’s words into Welsh.

The Sleeper smiled. “I am Marcus Maximus. You knew Pwyll, as well?”

“Only in passing,” Erik acknowledged, after translations had been made. “But he speaks to me now. Dark-fire has brought me the gift of conversing with the dead, and so I greet you in his stead, Cysgwr.”

Marcus’s eyes widened. “Only Pwyll called me that. There is proof that you do converse with him.”

“He bids me to remind you of this.” Then Erik spoke carefully in Welsh. Rafferty blinked, for he knew Erik did not know Welsh and had often complained that it was too difficult a language to learn.
“Y ddraig du ddyry cychwyn.”

Rafferty and Marcus laughed aloud in unison.

“What did I say?” Erik asked, looking between them.

“One of Pwyll’s favorite sayings, with a small modification,” Rafferty said, recognizing yet more proof of his grandfather’s presence. “‘The black dragon leads the way.’ Usually he spoke about the red dragon, meaning the Welsh
Pyr,
but he has changed the color on this day.
”

“Amen,” Eileen said with approval.

Rafferty knew that his grandfather was present.

And Pwyll had released Rafferty from the burden of the legacy Rafferty did not want, finding another heir and leaving Rafferty to savor the firestorm he had wanted more than anything else. He reached to take Melissa’s hand, overcome by Pwyll’s generosity.

And he felt fingertips slide over his hair, just as his grandfather had touched him so many times. Tears rose to his eyes, gratitude making his heart swell. Melissa smiled up at him, her eyes shining.

No doubt about it, Rafferty Powell was a lucky
Pyr
.

“You must be starving,” Sloane said to Marcus. “Come have a cup of tea. I know I could use one.”

“Tea,” Marcus echoed, trying the word on his tongue.

Rafferty, though, had a more celebratory intent. He studied Melissa, astounded by the gifts she had given him, and her smile broadened. When he bent and brushed his lips across hers, she stretched to meet him halfway, her hand sliding around the back of his neck. Desire rolled through Rafferty, making him yearn for privacy.

The
Pyr
were smart enough to disappear, taking both little girls, and leaving him alone with his mate.

“All’s well that ends well?” she whispered, and he grinned.

“The legacy continues, through Marcus.”

“I’ve missed you.”

“Even though you were busy?” he asked, looking into the light of her eyes.

“Even so.” Her smile turned impish.

Rafferty could still smell that delicious perfume of hers and assumed Melissa used it so routinely that it clung to her skin. Her sweater sleeve was charred and her eyes shone, her lips soft and full and inviting. “That might be cause for a celebration,” he murmured.

She laughed, the best sound he’d heard in a long time. “Celebrating dragon-style?” she asked, and ran one hand up his chest.

“The very same. Although I should ensure that you’re feeling celebratory, as well.”

“What makes you think I’m not?” She flirted with him, looking coy and luscious, and Rafferty loved her confidence in her own charms.

Another welcome change wrought by the darkfire.

“I think I should ask you a question, to ensure that we have something to celebrate,” Rafferty said, pulling her into his embrace.

“Any particular question?” Melissa asked, then kissed the corner of his mouth. Rafferty caught his breath, before he kissed her soundly, sliding his hand up her back as he pulled her tightly against him. Her tongue dueled with his, her fingers slid into his hair, and he felt her stretch to her toes to kiss him more deeply. He could have lost himself in her kiss but forced himself to stop.

For a moment.

He wanted her to be sure of his intent.

“Marry me,” he asked, looking down into her eyes. “Be my wife.”

Her eyes flashed with delight; then she flushed a little. “Even though…”

“It’s not important. We’ll try to adopt Isabelle, and if that’s meant to be, it will be. Otherwise, we’ll have each other, and that sounds good to me.”

“But
it
could come back,” she said quietly.

He understood that this was her deep fear—and that her even deeper one was that she would again be left alone to face the challenge. “And you’ll be stuck with me, every step of the way, whether it does or not,” Rafferty said with resolve.

“Deal,” Melissa said, her smile lighting her face. “Deal!”

Rafferty laughed and swung her into his arms, then headed for his own bedroom. He kicked the door shut behind him and rolled onto the bed with Melissa in his arms. They kissed so passionately that they might have been apart for years, and tugged at each other’s clothes in their impatience to have no barriers between them.

It was when Melissa touched the wound on his throat with a tender fingertip that her eyes widened in surprise. “Wait a minute,” she said softly. “There’s no darkfire.”

Rafferty hadn’t expected anything else, not after Marcus claimed the stone.

“Does that mean there’s no spark between us anymore?” he asked, smiling at the very idea.

Melissa laughed. “Not a chance,” she said, and fell into his arms, her eyes dancing. “You’re stuck with me, too, Rafferty Powell.”

As Rafferty kissed his lady and his mate, he knew there could be no better solution than that.

The
Pyr
gathered for New Year’s Eve at Quinn’s home in Michigan. Sara stood in the snowy field outside the house as twilight fell, sandwiched between Garrett and Quinn. She wasn’t cold anymore, which had told her the darkfire had been satisfied even before Quinn spoke to her of it. Instead, she felt a bubbling optimism for the future.

Erik and Eileen were the first to arrive, both of them more exuberant than usual. Zoë squealed with delight at the snow, and she and Garrett immediately set to making angels. Erik and Eileen had brought four bottles of vintage champagne and two of a sparkling nonalcoholic drink. “I don’t have to be the Seer to know there are babies on the way,” Eileen said with a smile.

Donovan and Alex came next, Nick proving to be just as eager to play in the snow. The men shook hands, as Alex gave Sara a book she’d found at a bookstore in Wales. It was an old book about tarot cards and their meanings.

“It’s not very logical stuff,” Alex said with her usual pragmatism, “but it’s kind of interesting.”

“Very interesting,” Sara agreed, thanking her for the book.

Sloane came next, Marcus alongside him. Sara was intrigued to meet the newest member of the
Pyr
. Though he spoke little, he smiled a great deal, and was both handsome and charming. She sensed that he would have much to say in time. Sloane brought her a book on mystical herbalism.

“I sense a theme,” Sara said with a laugh, and Quinn smiled.

Niall and Rox came with Thorolf, who seemed to be preoccupied. Rox was obviously out of her element—she was a city girl to the marrow—but gave Sara a big hug. Rox also brought a tin of organic gingerbread and another of an herbal tea. She patted her own rounded stomach. “Ginger’s good for me these days, so I thought it might be for you, too.”

Delaney and Ginger were just landing, Liam sleeping in Ginger’s arms. “Ginger’s always good for me,” Delaney teased. Ginger blushed; then they all exchanged greetings.

They turned then to watch an opalescent dragon descend out of the sky. Sara watched, her excitement rising. She was looking forward to meeting Rafferty’s mate, the one who had helped him quench the darkfire, and who had shaken the world of the
Pyr
.