The Witch Thief (Harlequin Nocturne) (5 page)

It worked. Her eyes snapped with anger again. “Lucky for me I don’t see a need to make this work. I don’t see a need to be near you at all.” She lifted her palm; a burnished silver ball of power was cupped inside it.

They were only a foot or so apart. At such close range the sphere winging toward him would have killed any other being, but Joarr wasn’t any other being.

It really was time for Amma to realize that.

He shifted. The elfin magic inside the manacles allowed for a massive change in his size. Unfortunately in the small space he was only able to change in shape, not mass. Still, he knew the shift was impressive. In his dragon form he was more silver and dazzling than a thousand of the little toys she’d tossed at him, and he saw it on her face. He had only a second to enjoy her expression. But he had no doubt there would be more opportunities, had no doubt that Amma would challenge him again. And next time he wouldn’t be limited by the walls of his cavern. He looked forward to it.

The ball inches from his head, he opened his jaws and blew…ice this time. He loved having the choice, loved how it awed his victims, left them guessing what would come next.

The sphere hit the icy shield his breath had formed and shattered it into what looked like a million diamond-sharp shards.

Amma gasped and tried to run, but chained to Joarr, she fell instead, dangled half on, half off the table. Joarr flung out his wing, shielding her from the blast. Magic shot up and back, striking the ceiling and wall of the cavern. But the caverns were strong. They had been around long before the dragons discovered them. It would take more than one magical spitball to down them.

As the magic rained down around them, he glanced at the witch. She was lying on the floor, her chest moving up and down in gasping breaths. Her gaze was fixed on her wrist and the chain that connected her to the giant silver dragon.

“Is that all you’ve got?” Joarr asked, transferring the question into her mind. “Because, really, I was expecting more.”

She spit out a curse and spread the fingers on both hands. Energy sizzled between them, forming a powerful, dangerous web. Dangerous for most, that was, but again, not for Joarr, not in his dragon form and not while Amma’s body was so depleted of power. This was almost getting dull.

He shook his head and breathed again—aimed at the air over her head. Tiny bits of ice this time, barely visible to the naked eye, but just as sharp as the magic she aimed at him, pattered down on her. She flipped her hands, palms up over her head. The shards hit the magic and sizzled to nothing but steam.

She smiled at him, victory shining from her eyes.

He sighed and sat, waited for her to realize this time he’d done the outwitting.

Watching him from the corner of her eye, she scrambled to a stand. Her golden hair fell over her face. She flipped it over her shoulder with an impatient flick of her wrist. Then she faced him, one hand wrapped around the chain that connected them, the other held out toward him.

“Release me,” she ordered.

“I could,” he replied, but made no move to do so.

She rubbed her fingers together, seemed to be checking for something. Doubt flickered deep in her eyes, but she covered the emotion quickly. “Release me,” she repeated. “Or I will do it myself.”

He tilted his head. “Go ahead.”

Her fingers glowed…pure white light poured from their tips. With an arrogant glance in his direction, she wrapped her hand around the chain. The metal glowed as power poured from Amma into it. Her eyes closed; lines formed on her forehead.

Joarr flicked his tail through the dirt while he waited. He wished she would hurry. In his dragon form the room was confining. The entire thing was just uncomfortable.

Her brows pulled together. Joarr flicked his tail again.

It was obvious the task was draining her. Of course, that had been Joarr’s intention. He yawned, wondered how much longer it could possibly take for her to realize her folly.

As magic continued to leak into the metal, the links swelled, until they had doubled in size. Amma seemed unaware of their change, bending at the waist from their increased weight but not halting what she was doing. As the chain swelled more, she stumbled and fell onto the floor.

Joarr took a step forward. “Are you done?” Steam shot from his nostrils. Tired of the games, he didn’t wait for her response; he shifted back to his human form and clothing. Unlike less magical forandre, he was able to create clothing with his shifts. He dressed himself in his favorite color, white—suit pants and a crisp cotton shirt.

After smoothing a wrinkle, this one out of his pants, he bent and scooped the exhausted witch from the floor. She was looking frail and innocent again. His heart tightened, but he kept his voice terse. “You don’t think I wouldn’t consider you in my plans, do you? I do know you are a witch. Even fully recovered, your magic won’t break the cuffs or the chain that connects them. It will strengthen them actually. The elves built the manacles to work like a witch—magic directly applied to any part of them is absorbed. Ingenious idea, don’t you think?” He didn’t expect or wait for a response. He jostled her in his arms, so her head fell against his shoulder.

He continued talking as he carried her from the back room into the main part of his cavern. She didn’t reply and didn’t struggle, leaving him to wonder if she was even awake.

On reaching the main room, he got his answer. “How about you, dragon? Do you absorb power now, too?” she hissed. Her body was limp. She had managed to drain herself thoroughly. But her voice was strong and her cornflower eyes were hard, like cold jewels.

He released the arm that held her legs and let her body slide down his form, felt every inch of her as it pressed against him. She didn’t resist. She seemed to enjoy the slow trip down his body as much as he did. Her eyes glowing with challenge, she stared at him.

“It would take more than one little witch to fell me, no matter how fully charged her battery,” he murmured.

Amma’s gaze grew sharper. He could see she wanted to say something, rebuff his words, but she stopped herself.

“But, just in case you are thinking you can…remember these.” He held up his wrist, the one connected to hers. “Dragons convert to their dragon state when they die. If you plan to kill me, best work that into the equation, too. And what you saw back there—” he jerked his head toward the back room “—was not my full form, just a modified version. Trust me, you would not be making a quick getaway. In fact I doubt you’d get away at all.”

Her eyes shuttered off. She crossed her arms over her chest and turned away, or tried to. Their connected state stopped her from completing either act entirely.

Tired of their standoff, Joarr bent forward and flung her over his shoulder. She elbowed him in the head.

His ears rang from the blow, but he kept walking. “I’m taking us to the portal. Once there you can tell me what else you remember. As long as you keep your word, I’ll keep mine. We will be free of each other in no time.”

Chapter 5

T
he trip to the portal was uncomfortable. The dragon insisted on making the journey in his human form despite Amma’s efforts to convince him flying would be more efficient. If he had shifted, magic would have leaked out of him like water through a sieve. Amma suspected that would be the best time to pull his power. She had messed up before by trying to pull the energy she needed while he was standing still and easily able to sense what she was doing. Of course, she had thought he was occupied with more base things—enough heat had been pouring out of him. She knew he was attracted to her. She had thought that attraction would be enough to distract him. But it hadn’t been, or perhaps he’d been playing her all along, pretending attraction to get her to show her hand.

The last thought was annoying. He was annoying…and appealing. She ran her fingers over her lips. She had been tempted by his kiss, tempted to wait before stealing his power. It had been so long since she had been able to feel anything, then to be thrown into the depths of sensation the dragon offered…

It was like resisting a promise from the gods.

But hard as it had been, she had resisted.

And then he had shocked her by somehow shutting off her attempts to drain his magic. A skill she hadn’t realized dragons had, but now that she did, she would be smarter and not let any opportunity slip by. If only she had been thinking when he had shifted in the cavern.

He might be able to stop her from pulling power when he was steady in one form, but while he was shifting? Too much magic was released then. There was no way he could keep her from gathering energy.

So, while her goal was to escape him altogether, until then she had to get him to shift as frequently as possible, and she would soak up the resulting magic like a sponge, silent and unobtrusive. She would stay that way until she was so full of energy her hair sizzled with it.

He had no idea who she was or what she was capable of.

He also had no idea what was at stake for her.

She placed a hand on her abdomen. The dragon couldn’t learn her secret. Couldn’t learn she’d found a way to get the family she craved…and how he had helped.

The bar was located about ten miles from the dragon stronghold. They had ridden a motorcycle down the steep mountain, the engine roaring in Amma’s ears and Joarr somehow steering with one hand. The entire thing had been both unsettling and exhilarating—a bit like the dragon himself.

Joarr parked the machine in the bar’s huge gravel lot. The squat building of white stone looked out of place here—as if it had been plopped down from the sky. It was little more than a way station. Most in- between places the size of the dragons’ home didn’t warrant a portal this size, but no other in-between place was home to all of the nine worlds’ male dragons. And although dragons didn’t need portals—in their dragon forms they could fly anywhere they liked—they used them. Flying meant arriving in their dragon form, taking away any element of surprise.

As they approached the bar that held the portal, Joarr wove his fingers between hers. “No reason to advertise our connected state,” he murmured.

She didn’t argue. The garm who ran portals in most parts of the nine worlds were no friends of hers. She had no friends, no one, except her sisters, whom she wouldn’t exactly term as friends.

Although the noise coming from inside the bar signaled the portal was doing booming business, the parking lot was empty.

A few feet from the door, Joarr stopped. “Do you hear that?”

Thinking he was referring to the clamor behind the door, Amma shrugged. Who couldn’t hear that? But before she could voice the sarcastic thought something small and dark dropped from the roof.

* * *

Joarr looked up. Three small bodies flipped off the roof and landed on the gravel beside him. He grabbed Amma and twirled her body toward his, so her face was pressed against his chest and his arm was wrapped around her. Bound together it was the best he could do.

She mumbled something and tried to shove herself away, but he held firm. With her protected as best he could, he assessed his attackers.

Short and stocky.

Dwarves.

All three were dressed in head-to-toe black with their faces covered. Each carried a short blade, a typical dwarf weapon. One dwarf, who in addition to the blade carried some kind of glass-and-metal flask, made a subtle hand signal to the others. The pair spread out, leaving about six feet between them.

Still struggling, Amma managed to pull her face free. “What do they want?” she muttered.

“Nothing good, I think.” Joarr jerked her more closely against his body and let his gaze dance over the group. The leader lifted one finger, and as a unit, the three leaped.

Joarr blasted them with ice, or tried to. In his human form the spray was much narrower than when he shifted. He concentrated on the leader and hit him square in the chest. The dwarf was knocked back against the bar’s rock wall.

The others paused and exchanged glances. They hadn’t expected his attack, or perhaps it was the ice they hadn’t expected. Very few dragons could produce ice and even fewer could produce both fire and ice. Enemy expectations, or lack of them, could work to his advantage. Something he needed to remember during this quest.

As the thought was racing through his head, he attacked again. Sticking to ice, he targeted a second dwarf. This time, however, the small being was prepared. He dropped and rolled. The stream of ice shot over his head and smashed into the bar. The building shook, and the noise inside ceased. No one, however, opened the door or peered out a window.

Beings who congregated in portal bars were not the type to get involved in others’ arguments.

“Give me power.” Amma stared up at him, anger clear in her eyes. “Let me fight.”

He didn’t have time to argue with her or even acknowledge her demand. The third dwarf was charging toward them, blade drawn. Joarr turned his ice on him, but this time aimed for the dwarf’s feet. The dwarf stumbled and fell forward, catching himself on his hands to keep from colliding with the ground. His ungraceful posture worked in Joarr’s favor. The ice solidified as the dwarf fell, locking his ankles and wrists to the ground.

His posture would have been comical, if the other two dwarves hadn’t chosen then to attack in unison.

They raced forward, both with their blades drawn. The second dwarf, the one not carrying the flask, had added an ax to his attack.

Joarr pulled in a breath and again discharged a flow of ice. He shot for their feet this time, too, but the pair jumped, landing on gravel untouched by Joarr’s attempts. They rolled, each going a different direction.

Joarr spun, pulling Amma with him. He shot ice at one dwarf then the other. Each time they leaped, avoiding his attack.

“Enough! Give me power,” Amma muttered through gritted teeth. “Or shift.”

She was right. In his human form, with one arm tied to her, he was at a distinct disadvantage. They could be here fighting the three for hours.

He did not have the patience for that. He shifted, and he didn’t hold back. His body filled the parking lot. Beside him, Amma’s eyes rounded, but only for a second. She quickly began to pull power. He could feel it being siphoned from him, but he couldn’t worry about the witch now.

He had dwarves to flatten.

Joarr nudged Amma with his foot, warning her that he was about to move. Without pausing in what she was doing, the witch wrapped her body around his leg and held on.

He smiled. Amma as an adornment. He liked it.

The dwarves had freed their companion from the ice. Now all three faced him again. He opened his jaws, ready to lay a coating of ice so thick across the landscape that those in the bar would be trapped and the dwarves outside converted into instant ice sculptures.

Two blades flew toward him, aimed at his front leg, the one without the witch. Surprised his attackers would pick a place sure to do him little damage, Joarr hesitated. Perhaps he’d overestimated the group.

The blades struck home, painful, but no more so than a mosquito bite would have been in his human form. He shook his leg, dislodging both knives. Then eyed the dwarves again. The followers stood back. They seemed to be waiting for something, but the leader ran straight at him. The dwarf’s blade was sheathed but his flask was still in his hand.

He landed on Joarr’s leg near the spot where the other dwarves’ knives had struck. Joarr could feel him there, like a tick or other small pest. He shook his leg, but the dwarf hung tight.

Amma yelled, but Joarr couldn’t hear her words. Then she cursed loud and clear, and magic, white-hot, seared into the leg the dwarf clung to.

He glanced down. Amma stood with her feet wedged against his leg. Her bound arm was extended so the chain that connected them was taut and her body was angled away from his. Her golden hair streamed from behind her and silvery power flew from her free hand. Power that was directed at his other leg…or the dwarf; he couldn’t be sure which.

There was another curse, this one from the dwarf. He jerked his ax free. Without pausing to aim, he threw the weapon. It whirled end over end toward Amma. The witch didn’t move, didn’t try to stop the deadly missile flying toward her. She simply fired off another attack of her own.

Both struck. The chain snapped, cut by the ax, and Amma and the dwarf both fell to the ground, leaving Joarr shocked and unable to process what had happened for a second. Then as he stared at Amma’s body tumbled like a broken doll onto the gravel, it all set in.

He roared.

Fire erupted from Joarr’s belly and flew from his lips. In seconds all three dwarves were nothing but ash. A cold wind blew from behind him, scattering the residue over the previously white portal building, coating it with gray.

A hollow feeling of defeat, despite his victory, settled in Joarr’s stomach. His gaze fixed on the witch, he shifted.

He walked to her, not bothering to create clothing for himself as he did. He didn’t feel the cold; he could survive in an ice storm or a river of lava completely bare. Blood trickled down his arm, the wounds from the dwarves’ blades already healing. He knelt beside Amma and brushed her hair from her face.

Her skin was pale and her eyes closed. He scooped her up and held her against his chest. She was cold, too cold for any being except a dragon.

He lowered his lips to hers and breathed hot, rejuvenating air into her lungs.

Her body shuddered and her eyelids fluttered. She looked up at him, her eyes as clear and blue as they ever had been, and groaned. “Damn. Why did I do that?” She flexed her fingers. Hair-thin lines of power sizzled from her fingertips. “All of it gone.”

Joarr smiled, then turned his head, hiding his relief at finding her well. His arm still supporting her around the waist, Joarr lowered her feet to the ground. Amma leaned against him, shaking her head and mumbling to herself. As she gathered herself, he created clothing in his mind—his standby favorite: white pants and shirt.

Dressed and his emotions under control, he tipped up her chin, so he could stare into her face. “What did you do?”

She shoved her hand against his chest. He loosened his hold, allowing a few inches of space between them. “Saved you, I’d guess.” She pointed at what was left of the dwarves—their blades, axes and the strange flask. As she moved, the chain that had connected them swung free, knocking into Joarr’s side.