“You okay back there, Firebrand?” Riley called over his shoulder. I peeked up from his leather jacket and caught my reflection in his dark shades. My hair whipped and snapped like a flame atop my head, too short to tie back but just long enough to be horribly tangled when we stopped. Before us, the highway stretched on, an endless strip of pavement heading east. Around us, the Mojave Desert provided much the same scenery: sand, scrub, cactus, rock and the occasional hawk or turkey vulture. The air shimmered with heat, but heat never bothered me. My kind was well adapted to dealing with blistering temperatures.
“My butt has gone numb!” I called back, making him smirk. “My hair is going to take hours to untangle, and I think I’ve eaten like four bugs. And I swear, Riley, if you tell me I should keep my mouth closed, you’re going to be riding the rest of the way sidesaddle.”
He grinned. “We’re about forty-five minutes out. Just hang on.”
Sighing, I laid my chin against his back, watching the eternal sameness flash by around us, and let my mind wander.
It had been three days since we left Crescent Beach. Three days since my world had been turned upside down, since I’d learned Talon was hiding things from me, since I’d fought the Order of St. George and discovered that Garret wasn’t who I thought he was. Three days since I’d made the decision to go rogue and leave town with Riley, abandoning my family and my old life, and branding myself a traitor in the eyes of Talon.
Three days since I’d last seen Garret. And Dante.
I clenched a fist in Riley’s jacket, my emotions churning with anger, sadness and guilt toward them both. Anger that they’d lied, that I’d trusted them, only to have them betray that trust. Garret was part of St. George; he’d been sent to Crescent Beach to kill me. Dante, the brother who’d promised to have my back no matter what, had turned me in to Talon when he’d discovered I was going rogue. But at least Garret had redeemed himself somewhat, saving me and Riley from a Talon assassin, then warning us that his own people were on their way. It was because of him that I was here now, on the back of a motorcycle with Riley, flying across the Mojave Desert. I didn’t know where my brother was, but I hoped he was okay. He might’ve abandoned me to Talon, but I knew Dante. He thought he had been doing the right thing.
Idiot twin. He still didn’t know the truth about the organization, the dark secrets they kept, the lies they told us. I’d make him see, eventually. I would get him out of Talon soon.
After I took care of this other thing.
The sun was beginning to drop toward the horizon when Riley slowed and pulled off the highway into a large, nearly empty lot on the side of the road. A sign at the edge of the pavement cast a long shadow over us as we cruised by, making me squint as I gazed up at it.
“‘Spanish Manor,’” I read, then looked at the “manor” in question, finding a boxy, derelict motel at the end of the nearly empty parking lot. Peeling yellow doors were placed every thirty or so feet, and ugly orange curtains hung in the darkened windows. Exactly one car, an aging white van, was parked in the spaces out front, and if not for the flickering vacancy sign in the office window, I would’ve thought the place completely abandoned.
Riley cruised up beside the van and killed the engine, and we both swung off the bike. Relieved to be able to move around again, I put my arms over my head and stretched until I felt my back pop. Gingerly, I tried running my fingers through my hair and found it hopelessly tangled, as I’d feared. Wincing, I tugged at the snarls and tore loose several fiery red strands while Riley looked on in amusement. I scowled at him.
“Ow. Okay, next time, I get a helmet,” I said, and his grin widened even more. I rolled my eyes and continued my hopeless battle with the tangles. Of all the human beauty traditions, I found hair the most time-consuming and obnoxious. So much time was wasted washing, brushing, teasing and primping it; scales never had this problem. “Where are we, anyway?” I muttered, separating a stubborn knot with my fingers, trying to ignore the dragon beside me. It was hard. Lean, tall and broad-shouldered, clad in leather and chains, Riley certainly cut the figure of a perfect rebel biker boy leaning so casually against his motorcycle, the breeze tugging at his dark hair. He took off his shades and stuck them in a back pocket.
“We’re about an hour from Vegas,” he said, and nodded to the ramshackle Spanish Manor squatting at the edge of the lot. “Wes told me to meet him here. Come on.”
I followed him over the parking lot, up a rusting flight of stairs and down the second-story hall until we came to a faded yellow door near the end. The curtains were drawn over the grimy window, and the interior of the room looked dark. Riley glanced around, then knocked on the wood, three swift taps followed by two slower ones.
A pause, and then the door swung open to reveal a thin, lanky human on the other side, dark eyes peering at us beneath a scruff of messy brown hair. He scowled at me by way of greeting, then stepped back to let us in.
“About time you showed up.” Wes slammed the door and threw the locks as if we were in a superspy movie and there could be enemy agents lurking outside, hiding in the cactus. “I thought you’d be here hours ago. What happened?”
“Had to make a quick stop in L.A. for a few things,” Riley answered, brushing by him. He did not mention the “things” in question, namely, a duffel bag full of ammo and firearms. Both he and Wes ignored me, so I turned to gaze around the room. A quick glance was all that was required; it was small, rumpled, unremarkable, with an unmade bed against the wall and soda cans scattered everywhere. A laptop sat open and glowing on the corner desk, nonsensical words and formulas splayed across the screen in neat rows.
“Riley…” Wes began, a note of warning in his voice.
“Where are the hatchlings?” Riley asked, overriding whatever he was going to say. “Are they all right? Did you find the safe house?”
“They’re fine,” Wes answered, sounding impatient. “They’re holed up near San Francisco with that Walter chap, with strict instructions not to poke one scale out of the house until they hear from you. They’re bloody peachy. We’re the ones we have to worry about now.”
“Good.” Riley nodded briskly and walked across the room to the desk, then bent down to the screen. “I assume this is it, then?” he muttered, narrowing his eyes. “Where we’ll be going tonight? Did you get everything you needed?”
“Riley.” Wes stalked after him. “Did you hear a word I just told you, mate? Do you know how crazy this is? Are you even listening to me?” The other ignored him, and with a scowl, Wes reached across the desk and slapped the laptop shut.
Riley straightened and turned to glare at the human. In the shadows, his eyes suddenly glowed a dangerous yellow, and the air went tight with the soundless, churning energy that came right before a Shift. Riley’s true form hovered close to the surface, staring out at the human with angry gold eyes.
To his credit, Wes didn’t back down.
“Listen to yourself, Riley.” The human faced the other in the dingy light, his voice solemn. “Listen to what you’re trying to do. This isn’t stealing a hatchling away from Talon. This isn’t walking up to a kid and saying, ‘Oy, mate, your organization is corrupt as hell and if you don’t leave soon you’ll never be free.’” He stabbed a finger at the laptop. “This is a bloody St. George compound. With bloody St. George soldiers. One slipup, one mistake, and you’ll be hanging from some corporal’s wall. Think about what that means, mate.” Wes leaned forward, his gaze intense. “Without you, the underground dies. Without you, all those kids you freed from Talon will be helpless when the organization comes for them. And they will, Riley, you bloody well know they will. Do you even care about that anymore? Do you care that everything we’ve worked for is about to go up in flames?” He gestured sharply at me. “Or has this sodding kid got you so wrapped around her finger that you don’t know what’s important anymore?”
“He
y!” I protested, scowling, but I might as well have shouted at a wall. Riley clenched his fists, nostrils flaring, as if he might punch the human or Shift into his true form and blast him to cinders. Wes continued to glare, chin raised, mouth pressed into a stubborn line. Both of them paid absolutely no attention to me.
“What are we doing, mate?” Wes asked softly, after a moment of brittle silence. “This isn’t our fight. This isn’t what we said we would do.” Riley didn’t answer, and Wes’s tone became almost pleading. “Riley, this is crazy. This is suicide, you know it as well as I do.”
Riley slumped, raking a hand through his messy black hair, the tension leaving his shoulders. “I know,” he growled. “Trust me, I know. I’ve been trying to convince myself I haven’t completely lost my mind since we left town.”
“Then why—”
“Because if I don’t, Ember will go without me and get herself killed!” Riley snapped, and finally looked in my direction. Those piercing gold eyes met mine across the room, the shadow of Riley’s true form staring at me. I shivered as he held my gaze. “Because she doesn’t know St. George like I do,” he went on. “She hasn’t seen what they’re capable of. She doesn’t know what they do to our kind if we’re discovered. I do. And I’m not going to let that happen. Even if I have to sneak into a St. George base and rescue one of the bastards myself.”
I swallowed, feeling something inside me respond, a rush of warmth spreading through my veins. My own dragon, calling to Riley’s, like he was her other half.
Wes scrubbed a hand down his face. “You’re both completely off your rockers,” he muttered, shaking his head. “And I’m no better, since it seems I’m going along with this lunacy.” He groaned and plopped into the chair, then opened the laptop. “Well, since you appear to have lost your mind, let me show you exactly what we’re up against.”
Riley turned from me, breaking eye contact. I knew I should go see what Wes was talking about. But I could still feel the heat of Riley’s gaze, feel the caress of the dragon against my skin. I needed to get away from him to clear my head, to cool the fire surging through my veins. Leaving them to talk, I slipped into the small, only slightly disgusting bathroom and locked the door behind me.
Wes’s and Riley’s voices echoed through the wood, low and urgent, probably talking about the mission. Or, in Wes’s case, trying to convince Riley, once and for all, not to go through with this. I sank onto the toilet seat and ran my hands through my hair, letting the words fade into jumbled background noise.
I knew Wes was right. I knew what I planned to do was stupid and risky as hell. I knew I hadn’t considered all the threats, didn’t realize what I was getting into. What I was planning flew in the face of everything I’d been taught, and if I voiced it out loud, it sounded insane, even to me.
Break into a compound of St. George, the ancient enemy of our race, the Order whose sole mission was to see us extinct, and rescue one of their own. Sneak into a heavily armed base full of soldiers, free a sole prisoner who could be anywhere and get out. Without getting blown to bits in the process.
It sounded crazy. It was crazy. It was downright suicidal, like Wes said. I didn’t fault him, or Riley, for being reluctant. They had no stake in this, no reason to want to undergo a mission that could get us all killed. They had every right to be afraid. If I was being completely honest, it terrified me, too.
But I couldn’t leave him behind.
I went to the sink to splash water on my face but paused when I caught sight of my reflection. A skinny, green-eyed girl stared back at me from the mirror, red hair standing on end, eyes ringed with dust and dark circles. I didn’t look remotely Draconian. I looked tired, and dirty, and very mortal. Nothing fierce or primal lurked inside my gaze to indicate that I was anything more than I seemed.
Was that why he’d hesitated that night on the cliff? When he’d pointed that gun at my head, and I’d finally realized what he really was? When he’d ceased to be Garret and became the enemy, a soldier of St. George?
He could’ve killed me. I’d been in my human form, taken off guard, and had been too stunned to do anything at first. He’d had me at point-blank range, alone and trapped on a bluff miles from anywhere. All he’d had to do was pull the trigger.
But he hadn’t. And later, he’d betrayed his own people to save me and Riley from Lilith, my sadistic trainer and Talon’s best Viper assassin. Lilith had come for Riley that night, and when I’d refused to leave him and return to Talon, she’d tried to kill me, too. She’d nearly succeeded. We’d survived only because of Garret’s unexpected arrival and his help in driving off the Viper. Otherwise, Lilith would’ve torn us apart.
But, by helping us, Garret had damned himself. To aid a dragon was treason in the eyes of his Order, and the punishment for such betrayal was death. He’d told me that himself. Garret had known the Order would kill him, and he’d still chosen to save us.
Why?
I’d tried to follow him that night, hoping to somehow get him away from the soldiers who were now his captors. But there had been no opportunity for a rescue, and Riley had finally convinced me that falling back and planning our next move was the best option. So here we were.
I turned on the sink and splashed cold water on my face, washing away the dust and grime. When that was done, I attempted to tame the snarled bird’s nest atop my head, wincing as I ran my fingers through the knots and tangles, finally combing them out. I had a brush in my backpack, along with a change of clothes and other essentials, but primping seemed like a giant waste of time right now. Besides, who was around that I wanted to impress? Wes hated me, and Riley… Riley was interested in my other half.
My dragon perked at this, sending a curl of warmth through my stomach, and I squashed it, and her, down. I didn’t know what I was going to do about Riley, but there were other things to focus on. Hopefully, Riley and Wes had come up with a brilliant plan, because other than knowing I couldn’t leave Garret with St. George, I didn’t have a clue what to do.
When I came out of the bathroom, Riley and Wes were bent over the laptop, talking in the same low, urgent tones. Riley glanced up, and our eyes met once more, making my skin flush. Then Wes snapped his name, and he turned his attention to the computer again.
Edging up behind them, I peered over Riley’s shoulder at what looked like an aerial map on the screen. The surrounding area seemed barren—desert and dust and flat, open ground—but in the very center of the map sat a cluster of small buildings. No roads led to it; no other buildings or landmarks stood nearby.
“Is that where Garret is?” I asked softly. Wes shot me a dirty look. “That,” he stated, narrowing his eyes, “is St. George’s western chapterhouse, and it took me a bloody long time to find it, thank you very much. It’s not like the Order advertises where they are—technically those buildings don’t exist on any map or sightseeing brochure. But yes, the bastards that tried to kill us in California have likely returned there, your murderous boyfriend included.” He snorted and turned away, and I resisted the urge to slap the back of his head.
“I had no idea it was so close,” Riley muttered, staring intently at the screen, his face grim. “Right on the Arizona/Utah line. I’m going to have to relocate a couple safe houses farther east.”
“There’s nowhere completely safe, mate,” Wes said quietly, slumping back in his chair. “Not since they caught on that Talon moved a lot of its business to the States. They’re bloody everywhere now.”
“Where were they before?” I asked.
“England,” Riley answered without looking at me. “St. George’s main headquarters is in London, where it’s been for hundreds of years. They’re very traditional, and they don’t like change, so it took them a while to spread out. That’s why Talon does a lot of business in the US and other countries—the Order doesn’t have such a strong presence here. Or it didn’t for a long time.??
? He leaned over the laptop. “This is a fairly new base,” he stated, staring at the tiny white squares on the screen. “It wasn’t here ten years ago.” One finger rose to trace the perimeter, his face shadowed in thought. “There’s the fence, and that’s probably the armory, barracks and mess hall, officer housing…so this big one has to be headquarters.” He tapped the screen, tightening his jaw. “That’s where he’ll probably be.”
“Bloody fabulous,” Wes muttered. “The most heavily guarded building of them all. Tell me again why we’re doing this? If it was a hatchling we were all getting ourselves killed for, I’d understand. I wouldn’t like it, but I’d understand. That’s more your type of loony.” He continued to glower at Riley and ignore me, as if I wasn’t standing not three feet away. Well within singeing distance, I thought. “Even if we do get this blighter out, what makes you think he won’t run straight back to St. George to tell them where we are? Or shoot us in the back himself?”
“He won’t,” I snapped, glaring at Wes. “I know Garret. He’s not like that.”
Wes turned a disgusted sneer in my direction. “Really?” he drawled. “Then answer me this, if you know the blighter so very well—how long did it take you to figure out he was part of St. George?”
I flushed. I’d never guessed the truth, never let myself think Garret could be the enemy, not until he’d aimed a gun at my head, and even then I hadn’t wanted to believe it. Wes gave me a smirk. “Yeah, that’s what I figured. You only think you know him. But the truth of it is he was lying to you that whole time. He would’ve told you anything to get you to reveal yourself, anything you wanted to hear.”
“He saved us from Lilith—”
“He shot at a bloody adult dragon,” Wes interrupted. “Because it was clearly the bigger threat. And when it was over and his squad hadn’t arrived to back him up, he told you what was necessary for him to stay alive. He told you exactly what you wanted to hear.”