Kiss of Fire (10 page)

A guy could only hope.

“It's enough to make a
Pyr
yearn for the good old days,” a voice murmured in old-speak.

Ambrose?

Quinn blinked in shock. No, it couldn't be Ambrose. Ambrose was dead. It would be too good to be true to have Ambrose beside him again, offering him advice and knowledge, but Erik had killed him. Ambrose was dead, and Quinn regretted that fact for the umpteenth time.

The old-speak had to be coming from Erik. Only a
Slayer
would mess with another
Pyr
's mind like this. Quinn should have anticipated the game.

The voice continued, low and persuasive. “Ah yes, there was a time when a princess could be captured and seduced at leisure, well away from the assistance of well-intentioned, if somewhat misguided, suitors.”

The voice could have been Quinn's own thoughts. It was in his head, but not from his head. The old-speak was heavily threaded with guile. There was an intruder, thinking in Quinn's head, meshing his ideas with Quinn's own. The voice sounded like Ambrose, who had been dead a good seven centuries. Quinn felt a reluctant surge of admiration.

Erik was good.

Quinn couldn't detect any recent sign of Erik's scent and doubted that the other
Pyr
was close by. There was no one else who looked
Pyr
, although it was difficult to tell with human forms. No one was even looking directly at him.

The mermaid, he knew, was stone cold, so Sara wasn't in danger.

Quinn decided to lure the speaker. He might learn something. He sent out the whisper of old-speak, broadcasting it since he didn't know the location of the other
Pyr
.

“These days, any given princess would just call the cops on her cell if she was abducted,” Quinn said. “And authorities are unlikely to have a sense of humor about dragons in their precinct.”

He heard an exhalation of surprised laughter, one that he was quite sure came on a puff of smoke.

He looked, but couldn't see it.

“How right you are,” the voice acknowledged. “Women, although delightful, can be so troublesome.” The voice became fainter, although whether that was due to distance or the speaker weakening, Quinn couldn't be sure. “Unpredictable.”

He spoke again, hoping to lure the speaker closer. “That's not part of their charm?”

The chuckle sounded like the tumbling of old rubble. “Oh, I take great delight in Sara's choices, I assure you.” Quinn's heart clenched at the other
Pyr
's ready use of his mate's name. “Which of us, do you think, is watching her more closely?” There was another throaty laugh, and then silence.

It was more than silence: it was the absence of another being.

The other
Pyr
was gone.

Although he'd left Quinn with plenty to think about.

Quinn didn't doubt that Erik had planned it that way.

It was close to her usual closing time when Sara got to the end of the book on psychic powers. She glanced at her watch and decided to leave the store early to avoid a repeat of events of the night before. She wanted to push her way through a crowded arcade instead.

The book was interesting, as it suggested that everyone was psychic on some level: the trick was opening one's mind to perceive what was already there. Many people used tools, like crystal balls, more to focus their thoughts and impressions than as instruments per se.

Sara's gaze fell on Magda's tarot cards. They were as good a focus as anything. She shuffled the deck and chose a card, flipping it over and placing it on the counter.

“The High Priestess.”

And it was upside down.

Sara pulled out her reference book and smiled when she read that the card concerned matters of intuition. She already knew that cards that were inverted were interpreted as being negative versions.

So, this could be about her denying her own intuition.

But Sara had had that message a couple of times already and although she was still skeptical, she thought the cards could have coughed up something a little more compelling. On a whim, she stared at the card, trying the meditation technique mentioned in the book she'd just read.

It was a pretty card, with a woman sitting like a queen on a throne, a heart at her feet and a scepter in her hand. Even upside down, it was attractive. Sara focused her attention on the card and felt everything around her slip away. The hum of the air-conditioning unit faded to nothing. The sound of footsteps and voices in the arcade slipped into a fog. The colors of the books and posters surrounding her disappeared from view. Even the oak edge of the countertop seemed to dissolve beneath her fingers.

There was only the card. The colors of the woman's garments seemed to become more vivid. Sara was certain that the background had changed: she didn't remember the woman being seated in a dark cave. She'd been sure there were fields and sunshine on the card. The woman pictured on it smiled back at Sara.

But upside down, that smile was sad.

And Sara hadn't noticed the shackle on the woman's ankle.

The woman's mouth seemed to move, as if she were speaking to Sara. Sara leaned closer and heard her scream.

Don't hurt me!

It was the voice Sara had heard in her dream that morning, but even more anguished than it had been. The woman's pain was almost tangible and the sound of her fear made Sara's stomach knot. She touched the edges of the card, wanting to help but not knowing how.

It is forbidden to injure the Wyvern!

Sara heard a shackle rattle, as if the woman fought to free herself. She heard something else, a dark chuckle, the sound of a man who liked to hurt women.

NO!

The woman's voice rose to a scream that curdled Sara's blood, then faded to nothing.

Sara picked up the card, but it was the same as it had been in the first place. A woman sat on a throne and smiled. She wore no shackle. She sat in the sunshine surrounded by fields. Sara turned the card over, wondering whether she'd imagined the woman's cry for help.

But she felt shivery and frightened, as if she'd witnessed a crime and done nothing to prevent it. A shadow seemed to pass over her and she shuddered. She blinked and looked around. It no longer seemed so smart to be alone in the shop, no matter what time it was. She gathered her things, shoved the tarot cards into her purse, and opened the door of the shop.

There was a gold coin on the threshold, one that hadn't been there earlier.

Sara thought of the coin that had been tossed to distract her the night before. She looked up and down the arcade, but saw only tourists and shoppers. That didn't make her feel any less nervous. She snatched up the coin, locked the door behind herself, and ran toward the State Street exit.

Quinn's booth was there. Quinn would know what to do.

Sara didn't see the man step out of the shadows at the other end of the arcade and leisurely stroll after her. She would have been frightened if she had noticed him, for his silhouette would have been familiar to her.

A gold coin wasn't the only thing she'd seen the night before.

Q
uinn was restless all afternoon. He was terse with potential customers, although he still did a good bit of business. Maybe people expected artists to be preoccupied and cranky. His thoughts were on Sara, part of him wanting to sit vigil outside of her shop and the other part of him knowing that would end his courtship of her before it started.

He paced.

He reviewed the old-speak that sounded like Ambrose and didn't like it one bit.

He reviewed his memories of Erik's treachery and liked those even less.

Finally, he packed up his booth impatiently. The show didn't end until eight that night, but Quinn couldn't stand around any longer. He couldn't even trust his instincts, as his desire to go to Sara became stronger with every passing moment.

Was something wrong?

Or did he just dislike his own inactivity?

Probably he was remembering his failures of the past.

He dismantled his awning with practiced ease and was putting the last piece into his trailer when he caught a whiff of something. He pivoted to find Sara heading directly for him, her quick movements telling him that something
was
wrong. She was visibly upset and looked on the verge of tears.

Quinn already knew that wasn't like Sara.

He abandoned the awning pieces and met her across the street. He caught her elbows in his hands and looked into her eyes when he felt her trembling. “What's wrong? What happened?”

And why hadn't he sensed it sooner?

She leaned into his embrace just a little, just enough to tell him that she had been coming to him. “It sounds crazy.”

Quinn smiled. “It probably won't to me.”

She glanced up and smiled tentatively. “Maybe not. Do you know who the Wyvern is?”

Quinn thought he had been prepared for anything but Sara's question surprised him all the same. “The Wyvern? Of course.” He shook his head and clarified. “I know the concept of the Wyvern, but I don't know who she is or where she is. Why? What do you know about her?”

“I heard her.” Sara licked her lips. “I was trying to meditate and I pulled a tarot card and I heard the Wyvern scream for help.”

“How did you know it was the Wyvern?”

“It was a woman.” Sara closed her eyes and frowned, then swallowed. She was visibly troubled. “Someone was hurting her, Quinn, and she said that it was forbidden to injure the Wyvern.” She opened her eyes and looked up at him. “I don't think whoever was hurting her listened.”

Quinn was troubled. He didn't doubt that Sara believed she had truly heard the Wyvern's call for help. He was skeptical, though.

Did Erik know about this?

Or was he responsible for it?

Sara shuddered, then lifted her chin. “I heard her this morning, too. Who is the Wyvern and how can we help her?”

“Let me think for a minute.” Quinn slipped an arm around Sara's shoulders and led her to his booth. She sat in his lawn chair as he packed up the last of the awning. Her gaze flicked over his black pickup truck and silver trailer, then watched him. She looked smaller, if determined, and he didn't care for the change.

“Have you eaten?” When she shrugged indifference, Quinn led her from his booth. “First things first,” he said and she smiled.

They walked across the Diag, their fingers interlaced, to a stall selling falafels. At her nod of agreement, Quinn bought several and they claimed a bench in the shade to eat.

“The Wyvern is unique among us. The
Pyr
are all male,” he began to explain. “And the gene passes in families. My father was the Smith before me and my brothers were all
Pyr
as well, or would have been.”

“Were? Are they dead?”

Quinn nodded once, not dwelling on that detail. If he did, he'd start thinking hostile thoughts about Erik again, and this wasn't the time. “Legend holds that there can be only one female
Pyr
at any given point in time, that there really is only one female
Pyr
. When she dies, there is no female
Pyr
until she's reborn. She can be born to any family that carries the
Pyr
gene and her reappearance is never guaranteed. There can be long intervals of time without a Wyvern.”

“So, she's pretty special.”

“Doubly so, because the one female
Pyr
is reputed to have the power of prophecy. She's the one who can see the pending firestorms and she knows the names of our destined mates. In some eras, she's been seen as the guardian of our future.” He paused, seeing that Sara was thinking furiously.

“So, if you were a
Slayer
, for example—”

“Don't even say that out loud,” Quinn interrupted.

“Theoretically.”

Quinn wouldn't even consider the concept. “Understand that I am of the true
Pyr
. That's nonnegotiable. Do not even mention
them
in the same sentence as me.”

She put down her falafel to study him. “What's the difference? It must be important.”

“Absolutely.” Quinn took a deep breath, tried to think of a way to be succinct, and knew there wasn't one. “In the beginning, there was the fire….”

“No, that's not how it goes.” Sara interrupted. “Genesis says that in the beginning, there was the Word.”

Quinn smiled. “That's your story. This is ours.” She shook her head, but she was listening. He'd take what he could get. “In the beginning, there was the fire, and the fire burned hot because it was cradled by the earth. The fire burned bright because it was nurtured by the air. The fire burned lower only when it was quenched by the water. And these were the four elements of divine design, of which all would be built and with which all would be destroyed. And the elements were placed at the cornerstones of the material world and it was good.”

He paused. “But the elements were alone and undefended, incapable of communicating with each other, snared within the matter that was theirs to control.”

Quinn glanced at Sara, who was listening raptly. “And so, out of the endless void was created a race of guardians whose appointed task was to protect and defend the integrity of the four sacred elements. They were given powers, the better to fulfill their responsibilities; they were given strength and cunning and longevity to safeguard the treasures surrendered to their stewardship. To them alone would the elements respond. These guardians were—and are—the
Pyr
.”

“So, your role is to protect the elements?” Sara asked.

“To protect the four elements, as represented by the earth. You've probably heard that dragons guard treasures, like piles of stolen gold, but that's propaganda. The treasure we guard is the earth.”

“It's in pretty bad shape right now,” Sara observed and Quinn had to agree.

“It's said that a time will come when the earth retaliates against the injustices done to it, and it's our responsibility to bring mankind through this great crisis.”

“Why?”

“Mankind is an older species than ours and we are charged with the protection of your kind. Mankind is among the treasures of the earth we are charged to defend.”

“But what about
Slayer
s? Aren't they
Pyr
? Wouldn't trying to kill me go against that mission?”

Quinn knew his expression turned grim. “The
Pyr
believe that mankind is part of the earth's bounty while the
Slayer
s believe that mankind is the parasite destroying the earth.”

“So, they kill humans and
Pyr
, since the true
Pyr
protect humans.”

Quinn nodded, feeling Sara's gaze upon him. She was making sense of what he had told her, and he gave her the time to do it.

He was busy trying to decide what to do about her vision.

She watched him for a moment. “Having access to the Wyvern would be pretty handy for a
Slayer
interested in stopping firestorms.”

Quinn saw the direction of her thoughts. “You mean holding the Wyvern captive, torturing her to release that information, then targeting the
Pyr
and woman involved.” The thought sickened Quinn; it was such an abomination of everything he'd been taught. But it explained how the
Slayer
the night before had found Sara so quickly.

They knew her name.

What else did they know about her?

Fear made his gut clench. He put his falafel aside and braced his elbows on his knees to think.

“Are you okay?”

“It's not the food,” Quinn said quickly. “It's the idea of anyone injuring the Wyvern. It's forbidden. She should be revered and honored. To injure her would be wrong.”

Sara shuddered. “It sounded wrong.”

“Do you know where she was? Or who was holding her captive?”

Sara shook her head and her hair slipped free of her ponytail. “Sorry. I'm not very good at this stuff yet.”

Quinn put his hand over hers and squeezed. “But you tried and you found out that you're better at it than you expected.”

She forced a smile and turned her fingers to lock with his. That heat simmered between their palms and Quinn knew he wasn't the only one staring at their locked hands with fascination. The power of the firestorm was awesome and undeniable. It made him acutely aware of the woman sitting beside him, of the heat of her knee so close to his own, of the smoothness of her skin and the honey hue of her tan….

Sara tugged her hand from his, as if she needed to pull her own thoughts together. “We need to help her, Quinn.”

Quinn wasn't persuaded of that. If
Slayer
s held the Wyvern captive, the last thing he wanted to do was take Sara closer to their lair. There were too many unknowns to make a decision of such importance. “I'm not sure how.”

“Shouldn't we tell Erik? Isn't he your leader?”

Quinn shrugged, restless and irritated again. “That's what he says. I don't recall being invited to the election.”

“You don't like him.”

“I don't know him well enough to know whether I like him or not. I don't trust him, though.”

“Why not?”

Quinn leveled a look at Sara. “He killed my best friend.”

Sara could see the fury simmering in Quinn's eyes and understood his animosity toward Erik.

Funny, but she wasn't very hungry anymore, either.

She had to ask. “Was it an accident? I mean, could it have been?”

“No. It was murder.” Quinn spoke with resolve, biting off the words and allowing no argument. He stared across the Diag, as if he were casually having a light meal, but Sara wasn't fooled. She could feel the anger emanating from him and sensed his raw power.

“Did you see it?”

“Yes.”

“What happened?”

Quinn shook his head and looked bitter. “He came out of the sky in dragon form and challenged my only friend and mentor. They fought until Ambrose was dead. I was young and inexperienced and couldn't help much.”

Quinn blamed himself for his friend's death. Sara could see that in the taut line of his lips. “Did he attack you?”

Quinn shook his head with impatience. “Maybe he didn't think I was worth the trouble, then.”

Sara's mouth went dry. That was why Quinn didn't like Erik showing up when he did. He was suspicious of the other
Pyr
's motives and she was feeling suspicious herself.

“Do the
Pyr
usually have a leader?” she asked.

Quinn shook his head, looking determined and annoyed. “We're solitary. It's easier that way.” He gave her a bright glance. “The
Slayer
s, now, they've always fought together.”

“You think Erik leads the
Slayer
s.”

“I'm thinking he might not be surprised to learn that the Wyvern is being held captive.” Quinn pushed to his feet and offered Sara his hand, his manner decisive. “Why don't we find out?”

She stood up and gathered the wrappings of their dinner, disposing of it in the trash can. She came back to Quinn and put her hand in his. It was comforting to feel the strength of his fingers closing over hers. He was strong, but gentle with her.

Protective.

Yet he answered her questions honestly.

Sara could get used to that combination. “Can you find him that easily?”

Quinn smiled. “I can find anyone once I know their scent. It takes time and concentration.” He inhaled and even though his eyes narrowed, Sara saw them glitter. His smile broadened slightly, giving him a confident and rakish air. “Over there.”