Dragon Rising (6 page)

D
o you always drive this fast?” Lyra watched the needle rise above one hundred.

“Yes.”

“Ah, back to that, are we? One-word answers. Sinking into deep silence. That’s not going to change what happened between us, you know.”

“I know.” He flicked her a glance. “There, two words. Happy?”

“Delirious.”

She couldn’t keep her mouth from turning up, though. He hadn’t closed up completely. Watching him pressed against the window, sinking into his misery, had torn her apart. She’d given him space, and eventually they’d succumbed to exhaustion and fallen asleep on the couch.

He turned up the car stereo, and a soft rock song filled the car. Queensrÿche’s “Silent Lucidity” scrolled across the screen, and the guy sang about the dream being over…or was it just begun?

The words filled her chest. “We let ourselves have something, Archer. Maybe we’ll never have it again—”

“We won’t.”

The needle went higher, but he said nothing.

“Because it hurts too much to not have it. I know. I felt it, too, and, well, you probably felt me feeling it. I’m trying not to unleash everything I feel.”

“Don’t repress your feelings.” His order came out harsh. “It makes you cold and dead inside.”

It hurt that she couldn’t touch his arm, or any part of him now, that he couldn’t let himself feel.

“Is that why you’re so cold inside?” At his surprised look, she said, “I feel your cold, like stepping into the cooler at the bakery. Is that why you were craving my heat?”

“I let you get too close. Nothing good comes of that.”

She turned toward him, hands gripping the seat. “Something good did come of it. Look what we shared. It was beautiful.”

“And it hurt like hell.”

“But you said it wouldn’t hurt when you were Caido.”

He kept his gaze ahead, which was good since he was going ninety-five. “Not physical pain.”

“Heartache? Is that what you mean?”

“I’ve spent my life feeling others’ emotions, taking in their pain and suffering as my own. I have never felt my own heartache until you.”

She had made his heart ache. The thought made her flop back in her seat.

A
whoop
sound definitely wasn’t part of the poignant song pouring from the stereo. Archer’s gaze flicked to the rearview mirror as blue and red lights flashed behind them.

She twisted around, seeing a police cruiser closing the gap. A Mud, of course, because Crescent police, the Guard, didn’t concern themselves with minor offenses such as speeding. They came in when someone used their magick abilities inappropriately. Or fatally.

Archer pulled over, the cruiser right behind him. The officer spent a couple of minutes running the tag, most likely.

“We’re okay with time, aren’t we?” she asked, looking at the clock.

“We’re fine. Just a minor delay.”

“How often are you stopped for speeding?”

Lights pulsed against the dashboard and Archer’s face. “Just about every time I get on the interstate.”

The cop approached, and Archer rolled down his window.

He was young, Hispanic, and very annoyed. “What in the hell are you thinking, that just ’cause you have some hot car, you can go as fast as you want?”

“Officer, I appreciate that you’re going to give me a warning, because you made an error. I was only going sixty-five.”

The man’s angry furrows on his face smoothed. “Yes, sir, and have a nice day.”

He walked back to the cruiser, and Archer pulled away.

“I wonder how much money they lose by you mesmerizing them.”

“A couple thousand…a month.”

Dragons could hypnotize somewhat, and yes, she’d used it to get out of a speeding ticket once. “Why do you speed all the time? Just because you can?”

“Because it’s a safe thrill.”

Ah, because metal and gears didn’t emit emotions, but only tempted a Caido into visceral thrills.

Poor Muds, as good a job as they did, they had no idea what was going on in their city. Dragon fights, magick wars, and demon attacks, all beyond the scope of their law. And sight.

Archer drove across the MacArthur Causeway and into a residential island neighborhood that had been developed before the age of enormous mansions. Tightness grew in her chest as she searched for the address. All she could think of was that dust on Jeremy’s floor. She had touched Archer’s wings, felt the light and energy emanating from them. The thought of them being torn from him—

“Stop whatever it is you’re thinking. I know I told you not to repress your feelings, but right now I don’t need you worrying about me.”

“Sorry.” She pointed to a gated entrance nearly hidden by thick, unruly trees. “There it is.”

He rolled down his window, pressed the intercom, and identified himself to the person who answered. The gate slowly swung open.

She looked from side to side as they drove through the arch. “I feel like we’re going to see the Wizard of Oz.”

“Silva could potentially be much more dangerous. I think he’ll turn us down, but I’ll sense whether Jeremy, Anika, or your father are in the house.” He pulled up to the circular driveway with a defunct fountain in the center. This house looked a bit run-down, in need of paint and repairs. Mature vegetation sprawled over what was likely a double lot.

Archer surprised her by taking her hand as they walked up the terraced steps. For show, in case Silva was watching them approach the double doors just beyond the Greek columns. His fingers sliding between hers gave her both a sense of security and a jolt of awareness.

Before they reached the doors, they opened. A thin man with sharp features sized them up with ice-chip eyes, finding her distasteful, judging by the slight sneer of his elegant mouth. He didn’t have much more respect for Archer.

“Come in.” Said with the most unwelcome tone.

He led them across a marble floor in a foyer that went up two stories and contained a massive, curving staircase. The house had been spectacular many years ago, and in here, it tried valiantly to hold on to its former glory. The man directed them to a parlor that was cold in temperature and design.

“Silva will be with you shortly.”

The doors closed with an ominous
thud
. Archer had warned her not to say anything incriminating once in the house. They also had to be ready in case Silva suspected they were the very two people he’d targeted.
If
he was the enemy.

Archer wandered the room, pretending to admire the abstract artwork. She knew he was probing for energies. His body stiffened, and he slanted her a look and a nod. He’d felt something. Someone. Her fingers curled into fists, and her Dragon trembled. She was hoping to find her pop here and terrified to find him here, too.

Pop?
she mouthed.

The door opened, and a man who looked to be in his midtwenties entered. With Crescents, that guess didn’t count for much, as they aged slowly once they reached puberty. He wore the tight kind of shirt and black pants a bodybuilder might don, his black hair brushed back from his face. His steel-blue eyes took in Archer first, sizing him up.

“You wish my attention?” he asked in a refined voice, now looking down his patrician nose at her.

“Thank you for seeing us,” Archer said.

Silva eyed their linked hands, and his expression tightened. “You presented a challenge, and I like challenges. But if you are here to find a way around our curse, I can’t help you.”

“Because I’m a Dragon?” she said, feeling Archer’s hand squeeze in warning.

“I don’t advocate the joining of Caido with any other being.”

“So you prefer they remain like monks?” she asked.

“Rather than being with a Dragon, yes.”

Archer took over the conversation. “I have heard that you are capable of changing the orientation of a fetus from, say, Dragon to Caido.”

His eyes narrowed. “Who told you this?”

“Jeremy Grant.”

Silva’s mouth twitched but otherwise he gave nothing away. “I must have a word with this Jeremy for spreading insinuations. I cannot change a fetus.” He shook his head. “Sad, that. So few of us, so many of them.” He deigned to glance at her.

“That’s not why we’re here,” Archer said. He tugged her closer. “Can you change an adult’s essence?”

His eyebrows rose at that. “Change her from Dragon to Caido?”

Archer nodded. “She doesn’t want to be Dragon anymore.”

Silva’s smile was acidic. “Because she’s in love with you. And you with her. How fucking romantic.” He speared her with a harsh look. “You would deny your Dragon? Give it up for love?”

She nodded, feeling her Dragon shake. She pulled her ache, her need to save Archer from his pain, to the surface for Silva to feel. He had obviously picked up her feelings for Archer. No, she would never give up her Dragon, even if it were possible. It was too much a part of her.

“Say the words, girl.”

“I…” She looked at Archer, afraid to trigger something she couldn’t stop. But no, Silva wouldn’t do anything without extracting a price first. “I want to become Caido.” Her hand went to her tattoo, assuring her Dragon with a stroke of her fingers.

“No, you don’t. I feel the falseness of your statement.” He looked at Archer. “She would not give up her essence for you. Do you see the folly of falling for someone other than Caido? Go, I am done with you.”

Silva walked out, and the minion stepped into the open doorway. “You will follow me.” He looked pleased, probably having heard everything. He wouldn’t look so pleased in about thirty seconds if they were following their plan.

Lyra leaned to the right so she could watch Silva. He walked farther back into the house, the echo of his shoes on the marble fading.

Archer paused in front of a garish painting, pretending to read the signature. “Isn’t this Palente? Looks like his work.”

He was buying time for Silva to get out of earshot.

“Sir,” the man said, impatience clear in the grit of his voice.

Archer did a great job of looking clueless. He started to follow but grabbed the guy’s hair and jerked him back into the parlor. He slammed his hand against the minion’s forehead, and a bright flash of Light seared his skin. His eyes rolled back, and he collapsed.

Lyra watched the doorway to make sure no one came in. All clear. Archer dragged his body behind the sofa. Then he crept back out to the foyer. He must be headed toward where he’d sensed someone. The word ‘Pop’ wanted to burst out of her mouth.

He led them up the grand staircase, where a balcony stretched across the width of the foyer. A wide hallway down the center led to a veranda that opened to the Biscayne Bay. On either side of the hallway were doors.

“Hey, who are you?” A young, fresh-faced Caido stood by an open door he’d obviously just opened. Curiosity morphed to alarm. He started to yell something, but Archer was faster. He blasted him with Light that sent him flying backward into the room from which he’d come. Archer caught him before he hit the floor and eased him quietly down.

They looked around, clearly in a bedroom suite. She searched the bathroom and closet but found no sign of their missing people.

When they stepped out of the room, Silva stood at the top of the stairs, cold fury on his face. A beam of Light shot from Silva’s hand, aimed right at them. Archer grabbed her as he fell back into the room. They had no more landed on the thick carpet when he kicked the door closed.

They both jumped to their feet, and Archer locked the door. Lyra pointed to where shadows slid beneath the door. Wraiths! Her Dragon took over, whipping its tail at the wraith coming at her. With the oversized furniture here, there was no room to fight. Archer’s wings tore through his back, doubling him over. She swiped at the wraiths who would take advantage of those few seconds of vulnerability. One bit into her hand, and she clamped her claws over it, making it screech. She flung it against the dresser, then kicked another one after it.

Two more slipped beneath the door. How many did Silva have? How many lost souls had become his ghostly slaves? Archer cut across them with a beam of Light like a sword. The top halves of their “bodies” toppled over. He kept cutting, slicing them to bits until they disintegrated.

Something grabbed her from behind, sharp talons tearing into her throat. Another one yanked her tail and pulled her off balance. Her fall dislodged the wraith at her throat.

Archer lunged for the wraith attached to her tail. It skittered up her back, and she curled her tail to jab it with her stinger.

The wraith was fast, though. It screeched as the tip touched it and dropped to the floor, only to jump at her again. Archer fought three of them at once, turning constantly to block and cut at them.

She saw him checking on her. “I’m fine.”

The last thing he needed was to worry about her. She spun around and whacked a wraith with her tail, sending it tumbling. Her tail struck, injecting the wraith with magick poison. The wraith burst into a ball of sparks and disappeared. But her tail had taken a hit, stinging with slashes inflicted by her opponents.

Archer grabbed a wraith by the throat and shook it violently while thrusting a beam of Light into its chest. It shuddered and turned to black dust. She smacked down the last wraith with her tail, nailing it with her stinger. It went
poof
.

Before they could even catch their breath, something thick wrapped around her waist and lifted her off the ground. The snake! Archer’s face tensed with fury as he lunged toward it with his sword. Her body tingled, as though a million fire ants covered her, and then a blinding light obliterated everything.

“This is where you wanted to go—isn’t that right? You almost found this room on your own, if you’d gone right instead of left.”

Silva’s voice, the only thing she sensed in a void. Slowly, her surroundings came into focus, a dark cavern. First Silva, his wings huge and dark silver, standing…lower than she? She looked down to the floor several feet below. Then from side to side. She was pinned to the wall by the snake. Anika was in the same predicament next to her.

Where was Archer?

The walls were covered with the kind of baffling she’d seen in a radio DJ’s booth, dark and wavy. Soundproofing. This room resembled an efficiency apartment, with a small table and living area. A man was hunched in a recliner.