Stone Guardian (11 page)

Ember swallowed, horrified.

The woman continued. “The attacks have resumed and without a crone to lead us I’m afraid we aren’t strong enough to fend them off for long. They seem to be targeting Elspeth now. They have become well-versed in black magic. Even if we had a strong crone I fear we would be no match for their talents.” She sighed and tears fell down her cheeks. “I have raised this babe since she was three, but I can no longer protect her. Manx was not the only reason we agreed to see you. Your appearance here with an elemental witch as a mate marks the beginning of a prophecy.

“Dragons aren’t the only creatures now depending on Kirill Kavinkovy. We ask that you take Elspeth to raise and protect as your own. It has been foretold that if she lives, her light will banish the evil that has taken hold among us.” She pressed her lips together and dropped to her haunches in front of the kid. “Remember what I told you, little one. Your new parents are here to collect you, as promised. You must go with them and be a good girl, okay?”

The child gave her a solemn nod.

The witch rose. “We are depending on you.” She urged the little girl toward them.

“Hold up, wait a minute. You can’t give away a kid. What the fuck is wrong with you all?” Ember’s voice rose with every word.

Timur stepped forward and collected Elspeth in his arms. “You have my word as a gargoyle. She will be safe.” He turned to face Ember. “It’s time to go.”

Elspeth raised her head and smiled. Ember found herself looking into big hazel eyes. Two of her bottom teeth were missing, giving her a lisp when she spoke. “Hi.”

Ember smiled back. “We can’t take her, Timur.”

“We have no choice now,” he tersely replied.

“The hell we don’t.” She swung around to talk to the coven, and the women who had been there moments earlier had vanished.

Chapter Ten

After changing hotels and moving Ember and the child out of Salem to a neighboring town, Timur finally had time to think. He had fifteen, twenty minutes at the most before sunrise. He dug his cell phone out of his pocket and rested his back against the headstone. Today the local cemetery would be his home, and he would stand guard over some long dead person’s mausoleum, on the roof and out of sight. But before that he had to talk with Kirill. He slid his finger over the screen and tapped the number.

“Did you secure the treasure?” Kirill’s voice came across the line, in and out.

“Yes and no. I don’t have much time. We have a child and the treasure isn’t a cache of gens or gold but a key.”

There was a long silence. Timur pulled the phone away from his ear to make sure he hadn’t lost the call.

“How does a child come into the equation?”

“She’s the key. The information has been branded onto her palm.”

“Aw, hell.” Kirill’s accent thickened.

“The little one has been entrusted to our care.” The familiar tingle started at the base of Timur’s back.

“Tell me that doesn’t mean what I think it does.”

“It does. Apparently it was prophesied that I would be coming this way with an elemental witch as a mate.”

“Sorry, I’m lost, you can’t stand spell casters. How the hell would you end up with one, and please tell me you didn’t ditch Ember?” Kirill whispered the last sentence.

“No. Quite the opposite, actually. Look, I don’t have time to explain. This is what it boils down to. I’m a daddy, which makes you an uncle and you need to look through Manx’s shit and find out where the hell a prophecy comes into play.”

“What the fuck have you gotten us mixed up in?” Kirill commented, his voice rife with curiosity.

“Sending me down here was your idea. I’m out of time, but for now she and Ember are safe. We will start back for Fire Island tonight. Something is off, my friend. You need to dig a little deeper in your research.” Timur didn’t wait for a response. He ended the call and placed the phone back into his pocket. One more check of the surrounding area and he climbed up to the roof of the structure using the branches of an old oak tree. The sun was rising over the horizon and its beams warmed his hand before he felt the stiffening of his body as it turned to stone.

* * * *

Drago lifted the snifter to his lips, took a sip and closed his eyes as the cognac burned its way down his throat. Warmth bloomed through his chest and he opened his mouth to release the smoke that billowed up like a bad case of gas. He hadn’t heard from Jax, making him cautiously optimistic that the bastard was dead. No news was good news, after all. There was still the problem of the Russian traitor. According to the men he had watching Fire Island, that fucker hadn’t moved. It was like he had hunkered down and was waiting for something. Kirill needed to be put down like a rabid dog. If he had to he could sacrifice a few men and take another fight to the black dragon’s doorstep.

But that wouldn’t get him what he wanted, and that was access to his cousin. He slammed the tumbler down on the table and alcohol sloshed over his fingers. If he couldn’t use magic then that only left subterfuge, someone he could trust to handle his interest without double crossing him, and the only person that came to mind was Nicolette.

Drago sat back in his chair and stared off into the distance, tapping his fingertip on the edge of the glass. Slowly extricating himself from her was working, and it had been a few days since he’d spoken to her. Asking her to act on his behalf would only pull them closer together again. Did he really want to incorporate the witch into his life any more than she already was? What was it his father used to say? The devil is in the details. It looked like he was going to have to get in bed with the demon to get what wanted. He would do what he had to and when he found a mate he’d let his new woman devour the old one. Drago chuckled, problem solved.

The breast pocket of his suit jacket vibrated. He reached into it and retrieved his cell phone, checking the caller ID before answering. “Speak.”

“The Babel Crone has contacted me. She assures me that you’ll want to meet with her, that she holds a piece of the
Y Ddraig Goch
treasure. It seems she needs my coven’s help to obtain a powerful object the She-Va Coven has in their possession. As crone of Qui-Ra I’ve advised her we will help if she turns what she has over to you.”

“Lovely.”

“I’ve heard rumors about Babel, there are whispers that they have been practicing the dark arts. I’ll meet with them first to ensure they truly have one of the gems. I’m also curious about the thing they wish to acquire.” Nicollete’s voice was all business.

“Lettie,” he lowered his voice. “Have I told you lately how much you mean to me?”

“No.” Her answer was clipped.

“A mistake on my part, please tell me that you forgive me.” He injected a thread of humility in his voice.

“I don’t like it when you push me away, Drago.”

“It will never happen again, baby, I promise.”

“We can talk when I get back. I’m meeting with the Babel Crone in Salem. I’m also taking a few of my stronger sisters with me in case the rumors that they use black magic are true and this is an ambush for power.”

Drago leaned forward to place his elbows on his knees. “I’ll dispatch a dragon to accompany you and your associates. He’ll meet you at the Boston airport.”

Nicolette said nothing.

In the background he could hear the drone of conversations and louder tinny voices calling out numbers. Her hesitation irritated him and he found himself squeezing the phone. Willing himself to calm down, he released his grip on the thin plastic. “Lettie?” Drago called out softly.

“Forgive me Drago, your offer caught me off guard. You’ve never been concerned with coven business before. I welcome any help you are willing to give. I have to go, our flight is being called.” A void of nothingness filled the air.

He pulled the cell from his ear and stared at the screen. Time to see if Jax was alive. He scrolled through his phone book and tapped the green icon.

“I said I would report when I had something to tell.” Annoyance was clear in the blue dragon’s voice.

“Young
wurm
, my experience trumps your age and if necessary I will find you, gut you, and use your hide as a tub while I bath in your blood,” Drago growled.

“Wow, you’re the violent sort,” Jax mocked.

“My ascension as Dragonrex is no joking matter. I want you to meet the Qui-Ra Crone at the Boston airport and escort her and her sisters to Salem.”

“I’m already there. I’ve been watching the Gargoyle.”

“Interesting.”

“What time will your witch get in?”

“She didn’t say.”

“Exactly how am I supposed to escort her to Salem if I don’t know what time to meet her?” Jax queried.

“The Babel Crone is already there. Find her. She can fill you in.”

“Look, sibyl’s aren’t my thing. Actually, they make me nauseous.”

“Fail me Jax and I
will
find you,” Drago stabbed the screen with his finger to end the call.

* * * *

A hand snaked out of the darkness and caught her around the throat. Ember clawed at the hand, raking her nails across the thin skin of the creature that gripped her. She could smell the blood, feel it gathering beneath her nails.
Fight
. The familiar sound of Timur’s voice drifted through her mind. Orange eyes peered at her, inching closer. If she could stay conscious she’d finally see the monster that tracked her. She opened her mouth and screamed as blackness enveloped her.

Something was poking her in the cheek. She raised her hand and swung, accidentally slapping herself. Cracking one lid open, she looked into the gentle gaze of Elspeth staring down at her with her head cocked. Ember opened her other eye and flipped onto her back. She scrubbed her hands up and down her face.

“You’re powerful,” the little girl spoke quietly.

“Huh?” Ember sat up and yawned.

“The magic you wield is strong. Who’s your coven? Are you a crone? My mother was a crone.”

“Kid, I’m no witch. I can’t even cook, so me casting a spell might turn you into a toad or something.” She laughed.

Elspeth shook her head. “Nat-un. You’re not a spell weaver.” She giggled. “You can call down the hand of a god to sweep your enemies away, according to the prooffesy. What’s a prooffesy?”

“Prophecy,” Ember corrected her. “It’s like predicting the future, and you got me. You seem to know more about it than I do.”

“Okay,” Elspeth shrugged. “Can we eat? I’m hungry.”

“Yeah, I guess we should feed you,” Ember sighed.

“Can I have pancakes, please, and bacon?” the girl pursed her lips. “But don’t let the bacon get burned. I don’t like it that way.”

“Alrighty then. If you give me a minute I’m gonna get dressed and we will go in search of food.”

“Bacon.”

Ember rose and pointed at her. “You said it, kid.” She grabbed the duffle and walked into the bathroom, leaving the door cracked. “We should find you some clothes, too, while we’re out.”

“I’m wearing a dress.”

“I know, but wouldn’t you like something new to wear, and shoes too?” Ember pulled a shirt over her head.

When she didn’t get an answer she widened the gap and peeked around the door’s edge.

Elspeth had opened the curtains and was staring outside. Light streaked in, highlighting her brown curls in a halo. She placed her palm on the window and turned to look at Ember. “They’re watching us.”

Ember snatched the bag off the toilet and marched into the room. She pulled the heavy fabric from the child’s hand and whipped it closed. “Who is?”

“The coven that needs me dead.”

“Who wants to hurt you, baby?” Ember went over exit options in her head. She wouldn’t be caught unaware again. With no weapon, though, she would have to go on the defensive and get them the hell out of there.

Elspeth turned her head to look up at her, her lips turned down. “I’m sorry.”

“No need to be sorry, honey. You and I are going to play a game. First, we will go into the bathroom and slide out the window. But we have to be really quiet, okay?”

The kid nodded.

Ember picked her up and carried her into the lavatory, setting her in the space between the toilet and the tub. She stepped up onto the bath’s ledge and, bracing her feet, she eased the window up. Thank heaven for one story, cheap, outdated motels. She looked down and the child was beaming up at her. Ember held out her hand and helped the girl up, lifting her to set her on the sill. Placing the child feet-first, she gripped her wrists and lowered Elspeth down, outside on the other side of the window, releasing her wrists when she could stretch no further.

She glanced around the bathroom and realized she’d left the overnight bag on the bed. Jumping down she raced into the bedroom. Snicks and scraping metal drew her attention to the door where the knob turned. Ember crossed the room, placing the chain in the hook as the barrier snapped back, stopped only by the metal links that wouldn’t let it open farther. Glowing orange eyes looked at her between the sliver of an opening. Momentarily paralyzed, Ember shook her head and backed away, grabbing the strap as she passed the bed. Panic welled through her, her heart constricted as if someone was squeezing it in her chest. She slammed the bathroom door shut and pushed the button in the knob to lock it. Unzipping the leather she reached in and groped for the money, wrapping her fingers around a roll.