“Why? Not that there’s anything left of it by now but rubble, but there may be things that weren’t destroyed.”
“You would not be safe there. The red dragons obviously know you are with me, or they would not have attacked. We will speak with Drake and go to his house in Paris. There you will be safe, and I will be able to ensure the ring is used to repair that which was destroyed.”
“Do you always talk like you’re straight out of a Tolkien book?” I asked in what I thought was a conversational tone of voice. “No, never mind, don’t answer that. It doesn’t matter. Look, I appreciate that you threw yourself in front of me when those red dragons attacked—it was, hands down, the most heroic thing I’ve ever witnessed—but I’m not a part of whatever it is that you’re involved with, so there’s no reason for those red dudes to come after me. Do all dragons have colors assigned to them?”
“Generally, yes. There is one sept that does not, but the wyvern of that is… special.” Kostya rubbed his chin, rasping his thumb down his stubble while musing to himself. “The red dragons didn’t know about you, that is true.”
“And the ones who attacked us aren’t going to be doing any talking,” I pointed out, my brain shying away from the memory of the bodies of the red dragons who had attacked us. Part of me wanted to feel appalled by the fact that I had killed the dragons—or rather, the ring had via me—but they were so clearly intent on killing us that I couldn’t summon up more than a sense of regret that we’d been pushed into that metaphorical corner.
“No, but if they traced me to your house, then they know about you. And thus you are at risk.”
“But I’m not a dragon. Why would dragons want me dead if I’m not one of you?”
“This is not a simple war between septs—the curse has driven the septs apart, yes, but the red dragons are now different. They are part demon. They will not care if you are a dragon or not; they will simply want you destroyed because you hold the ring. You must come to Paris. There you will be safe.”
I was touched that he was so concerned, a warm glow of happiness spreading out from my belly. “What a contrary man you are. Going by appearances, your favorite activity is scowling and being grumpy, but at the same time, you risked your own life to save me.”
“I am a wyvern,” he said, looking out the window. “It’s what I do.”
“But I’m not one of your dragons.”
“No, but you are—” He stopped, his jaw tensing.
“I’m what?”
“How long will it take us to reach the place with food?”
“Another fifteen minutes. I’m what, Kostya? Your mate?” I gave the last word the emphasis that I felt was unspoken.
His fingers spasmed on his leg, but he didn’t turn to look at me. “I have no mate.”
“Not that I’m desperate for the job or anything—let alone getting involved with someone so pigheaded and arrogant—”
He turned at that, complete with a glare that probably would have singed the hair of someone who wasn’t wearing a magic ring.
“But you have to admit that when you’re not being annoying, the kissing part is a lot of fun.” I smiled at him. He glowered.
“And speaking of the ring, why isn’t it simple? Giving it to you, that is, and letting you break this curse.”
His jaw tightened. “Traditionally, the breaking of a curse is done by someone not affected by it.”
“Huh. You learn something new each day.” I thought for a few minutes. “Traditionally? Do you mean you haven’t tried to break it yourself?”
“I have not had the means.” He looked pointedly at my hand.
“No,” I said slowly. “But you would if I gave it to you. Why don’t we do that, and then you can see if curse-breaking isn’t easier than you think?”
He shook his head, saying simply, “It would not work.”
I wanted to argue the point with him, but two things stopped me: first, he was still obviously in pain, and the part of me that wanted to comfort him demanded that I stop picking on him, and second, all this business of dragons and curses and demon lords was new to me. Magically speaking, I probably had the wrong end of the stick.
The remaining hours passed quicker than I expected. I insisted on driving to my house to see what remained of it, but all that greeted us was a mass of smoky charred wood, with half of one wall still standing. Sadness gripped me at the sight of it, tears welling thickly in my eyes. I mourned the loss of the place of so many happy memories and came perilously close to breaking down and bawling when I felt Kostya standing behind me.
He didn’t say anything, didn’t even touch me, but just his nearness gave comfort. After a few minutes, I turned and walked to the car, Jim and Kostya silently flanking me.
I wanted to stop by the nearest fire station (about fifteen miles away) but made do with a phone call instead. After giving my information and promising to stop by in the next twenty-four hours to fill out the report of what we saw, I left messages for both my sister and brother briefly explaining that the house had been destroyed and that I would contact them later with information about where I would be staying.
“I don’t know why you wouldn’t let me tell them about you,” I told Kostya when I finished with the voice mail for my brother. “Other than the dragon part, I mean. I could just tell them that you are a friend and you’d offered to let me stay with you—not that I have decided if I will, mind you—so they wouldn’t worry.”
“I do not know your siblings. They might pass along information that would lead the red dragons to you.”
“You’re really stubborn, you know that? No, to the left. We want the road that heads south.”
Kostya was taking his turn at the wheel, his collarbone having finally healed. That, along with a meal and a stop by a store for some fresh clothing, had made us all feel better.
“I am a wyvern. I am not stubborn.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I watched the countryside slip past us as we headed south. “I don’t suppose you’d like to answer some questions now?”
“No. I am driving. It would be unsafe for me to do so.”
“A likely excuse. Okay, let’s try this. Jim?”
“Huh?”
I turned around in my seat to see the demon, who had requested a copy of the local newspaper, look up from one of the pages. I had bought him the paper without making a single comment about the fact that he apparently not only spoke Swedish, but also could read it and was interested in the latest news.
“What do you know about dragon weirs?”
“Weyrs,” Kostya corrected.
“Weyrs. What do you know about them? Oh, wait… I order you to tell me about weyrs.”
The dog rolled his eyes. “You can ask me stuff without the bossy parts, you know.”
“Sorry. Kostya said I had to order you.”
“It’s not very polite.” Jim sniffed, and nosed the newspaper over to the next page. “I don’t know anything about them other than it’s some sort of a collective group. It’s what the septs belong to.”
“Oh, that’s right. Terrin said something about that. It’s like a United Nations thing?” I asked Kostya. “Your individual septs are members?”
“The weyr is made up of the dragon septs, yes.” A muscle in his jaw flexed. “It was made up of the septs. It is no more.”
“The curse had the power to do that? The guy who did that to you must be a humdinger of a bad dude.”
Kostya was silent. I thought for a few minutes about picking at the question until I forced him to answer me, but the sunlight filtering in through the car window, combined with the lack of sleep and a full belly, all led me to simply say, “I’m going to find out, you know. If not now, then soon,” before making a pillow of a sweater and snuggling into the car seat as best I could for a little snooze.
I woke up some time later at the sound of rain hitting the window.
“Ow,” I said, sitting up from where I’d been slumped against the door. My neck tw
inged in protest from my odd position. I rubbed it and blinked as I peered around. I was alone in the car, the skies gray above, although the ground wasn’t too wet, indicating it hadn’t been raining for long. “Jim? Kostya? Hello?”
No one answered. I looked out at the rain but didn’t see anyone. The car appeared to be at a small airport—not the large one with international arrivals, but a local one. A sign above a cluster of hangars announced balloon trips were available, as was pilot training. I got out of the car and scurried over to the door of the nearest hangar. Inside was a small plane, the kind crop dusters used, but no one was visible. “Hello? Anyone?”
It was as if the airport was a ghost town. I headed toward the big sign, assuming that’s where the office was located, but movement from the side caught my eye. A plane had evidently just landed and was taxiing toward me. This was no crop duster—it was small but sleek and positively reeked of money. I paused, watching it as it came to a stop, and the steps slid down in a near-silent hiss.
A man appeared, stocky in build, with red hair and a wary look on his face. He didn’t look to me like a dragon, but then, Kostya didn’t look like a dragon when he was in man-form. I took a step toward the redhead but stopped when he was joined by a second man, also redheaded. Neither of them looked like Kostya.
I turned my feet toward the office, glancing up and down the rows of hangars for signs of Kostya or Jim.
A shout behind me had me stopping. The two men from the plane were now joined by others, including a woman with curly brown hair and a tall man with black hair. The woman pointed at me, and in a flash, I realized that I was looking at dragons—but not Kostya’s family.
“Red dragons,” I said aloud, clutching my hand to my chest. “They want the ring! Well, they can’t have it!”
Feeling almost as brave as Kostya had been earlier (although with a lot more circumspection, given the situation), I spun around on my heel and ran back the way I’d come, hoping that Kostya had left the car keys in the ignition.
Almost immediately, there were sounds of running footsteps behind me. I dug deep for a burst of speed, but two years where the most vigorous exercise was a gentle stroll in the gardens had taken its toll, and before I was halfway to the car, I heard heavy breathing directly behind me. Ahead of me loomed the edge of one of the hangars. Behind it was my car, but I had serious doubts that I’d make it. I gathered every bit of energy I had and willed my legs to run faster, but just as I reached the end of the hangar, someone caught the back of my shirt and jerked me backward.
It was the taller of the two redheads. He said something in a language I didn’t understand, pulling me toward him. Behind him, the stockier guy was approaching, as were the woman and dark-haired man.
“Let go of me,” I snarled, my fingers curled into a fist. I swung at him, but he ducked. The second man reached us just as a large shape blurred past me, and then I was free. I ran a couple of steps forward, realized what the large shape must be, and spun around to see Kostya rolling on the ground with both redheads.
The dark-haired man checked his step for a moment; then with a roar of fury, he threw himself on the pile.
“Sweet sadistic salamanders!” I yelled, clutching my hand with the ring and trying to remember how I used it with the other red dragons. I tried to pull together power and directed it at them, bellowing, “Stop, stop, stop! I command you all to stop!”
Nothing happened. The men continued to fight.
Now what the devil was I supposed to do?
Eight
“Pal! Istvan!” The woman who had been with the three men reached us, yelling, “Stop, Drake! Aoife, get them apart! They’ll kill each other.”
I did a double take at the sound of a familiar female voice. “Aisling?” I asked.
The two redheaded men had dragged themselves out of the pile, but Kostya and the man who I assumed must be his brother still rolled around, thankfully in human form, but judging by the sounds, still beating the stuffing out of each other.
“I’m really getting tired of all the fighting,” I told Kostya. “So you can just stop it right now, because I am not taking you to see Dr. Ek a third time!”
“Pull them apart,” Aisling shouted, leaping forward and catching hold of Drake’s arm, trying to pull him back.
He snarled something quite rude, his face black with fury. To my amazement, the two redheads did as she ordered, grabbing Drake and attempting to force him off his brother. Kostya lunged forward, taking advantage of the fact that Drake was temporarily unable to strike back, and nailed him with a solid blow to the face that, if the sound of the resulting crack was anything to go by, probably broke the latter’s nose.
“Aoife, you’re going to have to pull him off,” Aisling ordered, trying to squeeze her way between the two men. “They won’t stop until we get them separated!”
I looked around for something that I could use to help pry Kostya off Drake, but other than Jim, there was nothing at hand.
“Jim,” I commanded, “find something to help me yank Kostya back.”
“Seriously?” Jim pursed his lips. “Like what, a bulldozer?”
“You are not helping,” I said in between grunts as I wrapped my arms around Kostya from the back and tried to pivot him over my hip.
“Aoife, babe, you’ve seen Slick go at it before. You gotta know that it’s going to take something like a crowbar to remove him from the other dude, and realistically, that’s only going to work if you knock him silly with the crowbar.”
“Do as I order,” I yelled, giving up on the pivoting idea. I decided Aisling had a better plan and tried to shove myself between the two men. “Grab the back of his shirt and pull!”
It worked, but only after I took an inadvertent blow to the jaw that made me see stars for a few minutes. I clung to Kostya, telling him to stop being such an idiot and other such words of wisdom, and with Aisling and her two friends pulling Drake back to a safe distance, at last we got the two men separated by thirty yards. Kostya stood panting, his shirt torn and sporting two black eyes. Drake didn’t look much better, with blood dripping out of his nose, a fat lip, and a lump on his jaw that slowly faded away.
“What the hell?” I asked Kostya when the two men stood glaring at each other. “Why didn’t you tell me you hated your brother?”
He shifted his gaze to me, the anger in it fading to puzzlement. “What are you talking about? I don’t hate my brother.”
I pointed to where Aisling was mopping up Drake’s face. “You just tried to kill him. Don’t tell me you didn’t, because you most definitely did not pull that punch that I took instead of him.”
Kostya’s eyes sharpened on my face, a horrified look flashing in his eyes. He touched my jaw, his thumb stroking gently across the tender spot. “I struck you? Let me see.”
“I’m fine.” I batted his hand away, but he simply ignored that and turned my head until he could examine the bruised part of my jaw. His fingers were warm as he brushed his thumb again, sending an answering warmth down my neck, to where it pooled in my belly.
For a moment, it was as if time had stopped, and there was just Kostya and me, and a gossamer web of unspoken emotion between us.
And then the big oaf went and broke the spell.
“You did not tell me that I struck you. I will not have this! You will see a doctor,” he pronounced.
I blinked a couple of times, already regretting the loss of the moment. “I will do no such thing.”
“I won’t have you hurt.” He took my hand and started to stride around the back of the hangar. “We will go now.”
“Like hell we will! Kostya, stop!” I dug in my heels and managed to get him to halt. “What about your brother?”
He turned around to look over at Drake, and instantly his body language changed. His teeth bared as he started forward. I leaped in front of him, blocking his way.
“Oh, you did not just do that,” I snapped. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, or if this is ho
w you normally greet family members, but I do know this: the next time you get in a knock-down, drag-out fight, I’m just going to let you get beat up.”
“It’s not his fault,” Aisling called to me, starting across the gap between the two men. Drake snarled an order for her to stop, and started moving. The two redheads pounced and held him back.
“For the love of Pete!” Aisling said, gesturing at her husband. “I can talk to Aoife, can’t I?”
Kostya growled, positively growled. I looked back at him, my hands still on his chest holding him back.
“Wow,” Jim said, giving him a long look. “That’s seriously feral-sounding, Slick. You may want to consult a vet about some rabies shots. I’d suggest a neutering, but I doubt if Eefster Island would let you.”
“Do you want me to order you to silence again?” I asked the demon.
He sniffed and glanced away. “Man, censorship all over the place. ‘Jim, don’t pee on the doctor’s flowers. Jim, don’t sniff the waitress’s crotch. Jim, don’t make neutering jokes.’ You’re no fun, Eefers, absolutely no fun. I bet that Aisling woman would let me have fun.”
“Don’t you dare try to play her against me, because that isn’t going to work one little bit.”
Hurt darkened his eyes. “You don’t want me. It’s because I’m a demon, isn’t it? Go on, you can tell me. You’ll crush my spirits and destroy my heart and ruin what was turning out to be a perfectly nice relationship—”
“You just got done ranting to me about how I’m no fun,” I interrupted.
“—and just when I was forming a bond with you,” Jim continued, as if I hadn’t spoken. “But that’s okay. Oh, sure, I was learning to love you despite your quirky ways, and the fact that you starve me, and that you want to get it on with Slick, here, but none of that matters because I’m not human, right? Go ahead,” he said, lying down on the ground. “Run me over again. Put me out of my misery. It won’t matter because I’m just a demon.”
“Oh, for the love of—Jim, get up. I’m not going to run you over. And you do matter to me, which is why I took you to the vet, and bought you a hamburger, and gave you my duvet to sleep with, so don’t give me those big eyes full of martyrdom. Are you crying?”