Stone Guardian

Stone Guardian

By

Kassanna

Copyright © August 2013, Kassanna

Cover art by Mina Carter © August 2013

Formatting by Bob Houston eBook Formatting

Amira Press

Charlotte, NC 28227

www.amirapress.com

ISBN: 978-1-627620-13-0

No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and e-mail, without prior written permission from Amira Press.

Dedication

For my family. Thank you for your patience.

Chapter One

Timur stared at Kirill as he stood with his friend studying the charts that were spread across the surface of the table. This little section of the shed had become Kirill’s command center for the treasure hunt. Manx the Supreme had left clues to the
Y Ddraig Goch
treasure in the most obscure places, it seemed. That old dragon had managed to hide a cache so massive no one knew exactly how much it was worth. With those jewels his friend, Kirill, could become the next Dragonrex. As king he could call together the clans, fund the necessities the tribes had been lacking, and secure a prosperous future for his people. Dragons would once again become the great beasts of lore instead of staying to themselves in their own territories and hiding behind the myth they had become.

That is, if they could find the fortune before Drago, the pseudo King who happened to live well on the other side of crazy. Timur shook his head. It wasn’t his fight, he was a Gargoyle, maybe the last of his kind, and yet somehow Kirill had sucked him into the battle. If he died, it could possibly be the end of his species. He refocused on what Kirill was saying. Papers were strewn everywhere and tiny pins marked specific locations on the maps nailed to the wall. He scrubbed his face with his palms and wondered where Synda had disappeared to. At the moment, she was the only one that could talk some sense into the stubborn dragon he’d long ago come to view as a brother.

Kirill turned up the wick on the lantern. The flame flared, sending a spiral of dark smoke up through the glass shade. He stabbed a spot on the map with his index finger. “It’s the perfect hiding place, Timur. Think about it. Manx was one of the ancients. He probably had friends in clans we might now consider enemies and among every species.”

He peered at the spot Kirill pointed out and shook his head. “Dude, witches are an entity unto themselves, and they have serious trust issues. You can’t think they are going to let us into their territory and welcome us with a batch of brownies and a hug?”

“Of course not! But I’ve heard they have a soft spot for Gargoyles.”

“Yeah, where did you hear that?” Timur snorted. “It’s because of a witch that our species as a whole even exists. Remember that little story about a horny man and his pissed off sorceress? This curse is still a pain in my ass. I miss all the good shit that happens during the day.”

“Trust me. You’re not missing anything important. Still, all Manx’s initial clues led me to this coven and I need someone to investigate.”

“So take Synda, pack a few things, and head off to…” Timur glanced down at the faded parchment. “Salem. Tell her it’s a honeymoon trip. I’m still hoping she might birth an egg…or two.”

“Fuck you and no can do. We can’t risk Drago tracking us, and I won’t leave her here alone. You, on the other hand, have a long, tumultuous relationship with covens and you’re unattached.”

“Seriously, one witch that didn’t like her man cheating a couple thousand years ago does not constitute a connection. Legend tells that from the ignorance of one man a race was born, at least that’s how my
maman
would start the bedtime tale. Honestly, I think she was trying to prepare me for what was coming. I have to tell you, kids today think they got problems. My puberty was a bitch. I mean, I wasn’t even there. I’m simply paying for Great Uncle Stupid’s indiscretions. Furthermore, I
am
working on my single status. Hopefully I will be a man with a mate before I have to bow to your ass.”

Kirill chuckled. “You have a long way to go my friend. Ember jumps every time you enter a room.”

Timur crossed his arms over his chest. “She’s excitable. Every budding romance has its hiccups. Where are they, the women, anyway?”

“Synda said they needed to get in some girl time so they went to town,” Kirill answered absently.

“Okay, but there aren’t any shops in town, there’s the homes, a general store, the fishery, and the satellite police station, which is unmanned at the moment.”

Kirill raised his head. “There is one other place.”

Timur chuckled. “I told you she was a handful.”

“Shut up and come on.” Kirill stomped out of the shack, holding the door against the wind that threatened to snatch it out of his hand. “Could you move a tad faster, gargoyle? I told Synda to stick close to home.”

“Technically she did.” Timur crossed the threshold.

Kirill narrowed his eyes. “Whose side are you on?” He allowed the door to slam shut.

Flakes blew into Timur’s face. He yanked off his shirt, oblivious to the cold. “Yours. Call me the voice of reason. Those women have been through a lot and still have yet more to process. It can’t be easy for them and it has to be eons harder for Ember since she’s human.”

“I’ll keep that in mind before I spank Synda,” Kirill responded drily. He dropped his jeans in the snow and took to the air.

Timur watched the black dragon soar upward and meld with the night sky. He stretched his arms and allowed the slate gray wings to unfurl from his back. Kirill’s words played back in his mind. He hadn’t been to the states in years, didn’t think it was safe to go back after some teenagers with overactive imaginations mistook him for some kind of monster in West Virginia. They weren’t far off, but there is no way in hell he looked like a damn moth. He scoffed. People still talk about his little foray into the lower forty-eight.
Mothman my ass
. Humans really had no idea what lurked among them or how to deal with it when they got an inkling.

He flapped his wings and watched eddies of snow dance on the ground. Scratching his head, he debated. Maybe he should get a haircut. Would Ember respond to him better if he appeared more human? Who was he kidding? She’d never see him as anything but a monster, even if she had no clue what kind. The thought amplified the ache in his chest and he rubbed at the spot at the center of his torso.

He turned his head to look at the small house rising out of the barren landscape, adding to the impression of isolation. Under that roof he was always so close to her. Perhaps he should make a little trip back down to the states. It could help him forget some deep-seated feelings for a particularly luscious woman.

Ember Tituba was stunning, with honey blonde hair and a dusting of freckles over her slightly upturned nose. She kept her thick hair braided in hundreds of plaits. His palm itched to run over their texture. Her skin was the color of café au lait and the softest he’d ever felt. He rubbed his palms together remembering when he’d covered her body with his own to protect her. Her expressive dark brown eyes lit up every time she saw something interesting, and Timur found himself lost in them when she looked at him. He adjusted his growing erection as he thought of her hourglass figure. Yeah, maybe he did need to get away, if only to clear his head and come up with a solid plan of seduction.

With her form firm in his mind he shot into the air to follow Kirill. It was probably best if he arrived with the dragon as opposed to after him. Being newly mated, he didn’t want the death of some unsuspecting shifter on his conscience because they irritated Kirill by making a pass at his mate. A spiral through the air and he was on his way to town.

* * * *

Ember tossed back the shot of whiskey Tucker placed in front of her and wished for a cigarette. Only she didn’t smoke, so she leaned on the bar and rubbed her lips against the glass tumbler. Maybe she should start. The idea that some people could turn into animals was still something she needed to wrap her mind around. Her best friend was a dragon, after all. She’d never want for a lighter. Ember watched as the bartender’s skin turned a plethora of colors in a matter of minutes under the Christmas lights hanging behind him that should have been taken down months ago. Ember wondered what Tucker was, since Synda explained to her that Fire Island was basically a haven for shifters in Alaska. She slammed the glass down on the smooth wooden surface and motioned for Tucker to refill it.

Bottles of alcohol lined the glass shelves, distorting her image in the mirror behind them. She rubbed her temple and closed her eyes. Synda had dragged her out of the house she’d been holed up in for weeks, insisting that fresh air would be good for her. Nothing, including the oblivion liquor induced, could erase the information now stuck in her head. She opened her eyes and glanced around the room. The area was filled with creatures she couldn’t be sure would come from dreams or the horrific nightmares that plagued her lately. The dark wood paneling of the building’s interior made the room look small, and tables placed so close together in different spots gave her a raging case of claustrophobia when she first entered the bar. Thank heaven for whiskey. After the last couple of drinks she’d stopped caring—mostly—for just about everything.

The furnace kicked on, rattling through the vents, and the little hula dancer attached to the top of the cash register danced under the blast of heat. Ember focused on the brown liquor swirling in the bottle as Tucker poured it into her tumbler. “Leave the bottle.” She unbuttoned the last button of her polo shirt.

Tucker arched a brow and backed away.

Tracing her finger around the edge of the glass she swallowed a sigh and spun the stool to look at her enthusiastic friend. She refilled Synda’s glass and watched her lips move, but she hadn’t heard a word the woman said. Instead, she nodded at what she hoped were appropriate times in the conversation. Her mind kept circling back to one particular beast she still wasn’t sure about. He referred to himself as a shifter, but she didn’t know what kind. And she wanted to. Every morning Timur disappeared. She had a hazy recollection of a huge man with even larger wings protecting her, but when she tried to remember more about the night she was attacked she got a bitch of a headache. In desperation, she’d even broken down and asked Kirill if his friend was a Vampire.