Soul of the Dragon (29 page)

Frightened by his determination, Alexa pulled into the first parking lot on the right. “What makes you think the house has anything to do with me?”
 

“Damn it, Alexa, it was just like Mom!”
 

Stunned by her brother’s uncharacteristic roar, she didn’t at first realize what he’d said. Icy cold now, she squeezed the words out. “
What
was just like Mom?”
 

Peter looked incredulous. “Do you really not remember? Her death. The fires. Your skirt.”
 

An image flared in front of Alexa. A young Tarsuinn in the backyard, as she’d remembered him weeks earlier when she’d been examining the scalded tree. In the image, a small ball of fire rushed past her to ignite a tiny pile of leaves that had fallen from the tree. The fire passed too close to her skirt and it caught fire.
 

“I remember the skirt…”
 

Peter cut her off. “Mom ran out yelling. Not screaming, because she never panicked at anything. I heard her and looked out the window. All I saw was a burst of fire. Then she was on the ground.”
 

Alexa remembered. She remembered Tarsuinn’s smirk of arrogance at his abilities. She remembered the downblast of air from Cyrgyn’s wings that had put out the flames. The mage’s anger when he realized the dragon was near. Her mother, running toward them, ready to save her daughter. Her mother had paused and looked up when she felt the odd movement of air. Cyrgyn had begun to circle back and Alexa had no doubt now that he would have roasted Tarsuinn if he could.
 

But she remembered the dragon rearing back when he saw her mother nearing them. She remembered the determination on Tarsuinn’s face when he released another stream of energy. The horror when he realized what he’d done. She saw her mother take the impact in the chest. But it hadn’t been a fireball, not like Tarsuinn had been tossing around lately. This blast—the blast that killed her mother—had been pure energy, unchanged, and it had pierced her, probably stopping her heart immediately.
 

Pain seared Alexa, so strong she couldn’t isolate it. She couldn’t breathe. Her hand scrabbled at the door handle and she fought to get out of the car. The door popped open and she heaved herself outside, gulping in smog-laden air. She took several steps away from the car, as if it was the little Saturn holding her breath in.
 

Finally, the pressure eased, and the pain throbbed rather than burned. No wonder she’d blocked out her mother’s death.
 

It was all her fault.
 

She heard Peter behind her and whirled, but for once she didn’t have a witty barb to toss out.
 

“Alexa,” her brother said gently, holding out his arms. It didn’t take much for her to accept his hug. She couldn’t remember a time when she’d ever needed
him
to comfort
her
. She guessed there had to be a first for everything.
 

“It’s okay,” he shushed, though she wasn’t crying. The pain had gathered into a ball of anger, of hatred. The problem was knowing who should be the target.
 

“He didn’t mean to do it,” she murmured.
 

“Who?” Peter released her and stepped back.
 

Alexa almost told him. Then, with a jolt, she was released from her daze and realized the consequences of revealing Tars’ identity to her brother.
 

“Do you really love Victoria?” she asked him instead, and knew the answer instantly. The transformation of his expression could not be faked. She’d seen him dreamy, excited, infatuated—this surpassed everything.
 

“Alexa, she’s my soulmate.”
 

The words added another point of pain to her heart, but it was one she could not nurse. “Then be prepared, because you two are in for a tough time.”
 

She strode back to the car.
 

“Will you stop stalking away?” Peter ran after her and climbed back in as she did. “What’s going on?”
 

“I’ll tell you when we get there. And Peter—” She took her eyes off the road to emphasize her point. “I’m trusting you. From here on out, you could be the death of me.”
 

She expected him to laugh at her melodrama, but he seemed to believe her.
 

She stopped the car outside the hangar. Cyrgyn was probably inside, so she had to tell Peter out here. She didn’t want the dragon to overhear her. Shutting off the engine and undoing her seatbelt let her stall for a few extra seconds. Then she inhaled deeply, let it out, and braced herself.
 

“Peter…Victoria’s brother killed our mother.”
 

“No.”
 

“Yes.” She grabbed his arm before he could mimic her and burst out of the vehicle. “Tars was the one who killed her. And he’s the one who firebombed the house.”
 

Peter swallowed, and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down his long neck. He looked like he wanted to protest again, but something shifted behind his eyes, and Alexa knew he was examining his memories and recognizing the truth. “Is Victoria in danger? Are we?”
 

She didn’t want to say yes and panic him, but she didn’t want to say no and be wrong.
 

She
did
know, however, how they would be safe. There were far too many lives involved now, and she could not let any of them be sacrificed. Not even for Cyrgyn.
 

“I’m entrusting you with the biggest secret of my life,” she said, and explained about the curse and Tarsuinn and Cyrgyn. Peter asked questions, eventually getting the entire story out of her. She had no justification for keeping it secret anymore. Not when he knew so much already.
 

“So this guy has been trying to ‘get’ you for centuries and is starting to get desperate.”
 

“Pretty much.”
 

“Again, how much danger are we in?”
 

Alexa sighed. “I don’t know, Peter. I doubt Tars would hurt his sister. I’m less certain that he wouldn’t hurt someone I loved to pressure me.”
 

Peter’s intensity suddenly changed to fury. “You think you know how to end this.”
 

“I have to give myself to him,” she admitted.
 

“You can’t! Then Mom will have died for nothing.”
 

Anguish washed over her and she couldn’t fight the tears anymore. “I have to!” She got out of the car and slammed the door. She didn’t want to argue with him about it, damn it! She just wanted it done.
 

“Alexa, no! I can’t let you!” Peter shouted behind her.
 

“You can’t stop me!” she shouted back. She halted at the door of the hangar. “He didn’t mean to kill Mom. He was trying to impress me, to win me over. Even though he remembered, even though he was a strong mage, he was still a kid, and he lost control. I laughed at him.” God, she had laughed at him. She remembered the embarrassment of having this twelve-year-old flirt with her, doing what she thought were parlor tricks. The utter ridiculousness of his claims. Maybe if she’d gone with him then…
 

“It may not have been possible to change,” she told Peter, “but it was my fault Mom was killed. I won’t let it happen to the rest of you. I won’t let it happen to Cyrgyn.” That would be the worst, she knew. To watch her friend die because of her failure, or to die herself, knowing as she did that his eternal suffering lay on her shoulders.
 

“He won’t let you.”
 

“How the hell do you know?” She scowled at her brother. “You don’t know him.”
 

“I—”
 

“Enough!” She turned and yanked open the hangar door. Cyrgyn rose from his spot at the back of the hangar. Surprise was evident in the loft of his eyebrows when he saw Peter.
 

“Hello.” He inclined his head. “You are Alexa’s brother,” he said with no query in his voice.
 

“She’s going to him,” Peter said. “She thinks that will end it.”
 

Alexa stopped walking and let her shoulders slump. She’d hoped Peter would care enough about her not to betray her to the dragon. She closed her eyes in an anticipatory wince and waited for the roar.
 

It came, but not from Cyrgyn. There was no warning groan, not even a creak, before the roof was ripped off the building.
 

Alexa steeled herself for a vortex, a storm, some rush of wind and sound. She was vaguely aware of Peter standing next to her, head tilted back, mouth open in astonishment.
 

The portion of roof that had been torn away clanged to the ground outside. No rush of wind followed, natural or manmade. There was dead silence.
 

“What happened?” Peter whispered.
 

“Shh.” Alexa didn’t move. Still nothing.
 

Cyrgyn’s legs bunched as if to launch. Alexa stopped him. “Let the enemy show his hand,” she said quietly. They waited some more.
 

Finally, there was a
whump
and something fell into the hangar. Alexa threw up her arm in a useless attempt to protect her face from a blast that didn’t come. Instead of a fireball, Tars had sent them a rock.
 

They circled closer, but the rock was only a rock, albeit a large one. A rubber band around it held a piece of cream vellum in place.
 

“What is this guy, twelve?” Peter asked, reaching for the note.
 

“Wait. Let me.” Alexa hefted the rock and turned it over, to make sure it wasn’t anything
more than granite. Satisfied, she inspected the rubber band and paper to make sure neither harbored a triggering device. Not that Tars needed anything so mundane, but her training wouldn’t allow less caution.
 

Satisfied, she slid the paper from under the rubber band and unfolded it.
 

My dear Alexa
, it began, as if she were an old friend.
Our skirmishing strikes me as tiresome and silly. We are mature adults, accomplished mages—surely we can come to an agreement that benefits all involved. I propose a meeting on neutral ground, just you and me. No magic, no weapons apart from our minds. No tricks, no betrayal. We can end this.
 

He’d named a location outside the city and invited her to meet him there late that night.
 

Alexa hadn’t read the letter aloud but didn’t do more than fold it in half before Peter and Cyrgyn pounced on her.
 

“You can’t go,” Peter said.
 

“I have to.”
 

“Alexa.”
 

She turned to the dragon, who seemed to examine her mind through her eyes. Finally, his big head nodded. “I do not wish it, but I understand you must.” His warm breath wafted over the floor when he sighed. “We will have to trust him.”
 

“Trust him?” Incredulous, Peter stepped between them. “He killed our mother. He destroyed my father’s house.” He flung a hand in the air. “He ripped the roof off the goddamned building, and you think we can trust him?”
 

The only betrayal of Cyrgyn’s emotions came from the slight snort and wisp of smoke through his nostrils. “I believe I have known him a fair bit longer than you, young Peter. He does not truly wish Alexa dead. He wishes her his. He will not harm her.”
 

“Can you be sure of that? Besides, that’s what she plans to do.” He paced toward the dragon, following him as he moved back to his corner. “She thinks she needs to give herself to him to end this.”
 

Cyrgyn settled into a curve of glinting gold and lowered his head to the mattress beside him. “Alexa will do as she must.” His eyelids lowered. A casual observer would think him exhausted. Alexa recognized defeat.
 

Leaving the dragon to his slumber, Peter and Alexa went up into the loft. Peter sat at the table while Alexa began to prepare a meal.
 

“How can you eat?”
 

“Easily.” She pulled a bag of salad and a grilled chicken breast out of the refrigerator. At least Ryc had taken care of the food. “When you have the job I do, you eat when you can, as well as you can, because you never know what or when you’ll be eating again.”
 

“How can you do this to him, Alexa?”
 

She dumped salad into two bowls and began to slice the chicken. “You don’t understand, Peter.”
 

“I understand more than you think.” He took a deep breath and she sensed his urgency ebbing. When he spoke again the shrillness of panic had left his voice. “I told you I saw him.”
 

Denial was a reflex that jumped into Alexa’s throat. She turned with the salads and caught Peter’s grin, as if he’d known what she wanted to say. She smiled back, and absorbed the rush of affection that spread from her heart.
 

She set the bowls on the table and wrapped her arms around Peter’s head. “I love you, kid.”
 

“I love you, too.” He pulled back and grabbed her hand, tugging until she sat next to him. “You are meant for him. Not Tars. You can’t allow him to suffer.”
 

She pulled her hand away. “I’m doing this so he won’t suffer.” She snatched up the fork and stabbed some lettuce.
 

He shook his head. “No, you’re not. You’re doing it because it’s the easy way.”
 

She stared at him. “When have I ever done things the easy way?”
 

Peter laughed and dug into his own salad. “We don’t have time to get into that. But you have to admit, this is it.”
 

They ate in silence after that. Alexa usually avoided self-delusion. Was she taking the easy way out, instead of finding a true solution?