“I’m not a dragon,” I growled, the tip of my sword cutting through the air as I waved it in warning.
He looked at my hands. My fingers were long, covered in silver scales, and tipped with red.
“Not normally,” I added, moving slightly to the side. If I could get around him, I might be able to race toward the spot that I thought might be an exit.
The blade of light flashed in an arc directly at me. I swung my sword upward, intercepting it, bracing myself for the inevitable blow. I was no stranger to swordplay, having had years of fencing lessons at Magoth’s behest, but there was a great difference between learning the style of fencing used by actors, and fighting for your life with a maniac dragon who apparently had powers well beyond what anyone thought. The impact of his sword on mine sent me to my knees, sparks flying from the blades as they screamed with the impact. I held on to the demon blade with all my might as Baltic—there was no doubt in my mind that the dragon before me was him—stood above me, his eyes dark and unfathomable as he crushed me into the ground.
“If you kill me, you’ll destroy the shard,” I told him, every muscle in my arms screaming as I fought to keep his sword from striking me.
“There’s no one to stop me from taking it from your corpse,” he said, spinning around, the blade dancing in the air as it descended toward me again.
I rolled away, hoping to get to my feet, but as I was in the act of rising, Baltic’s sword of light flashed, knocking mine from my hands. I watched in horror as it spun through the air, seemingly in slow motion, the dim light twinkling down the length of its blade as it tumbled handle over tip. It made a perfect arc upward, a graceful movement that I watched with despair. It hung in the air for a moment, then began its descent, just as graceful, but with each flash of its blade, my hope evaporated more, leaving nothing but resignation.
Just as the sword was about to strike the earth, a shadow tore itself through the webbing between worlds. A woman emerged, holding a staff of shining gold, which she slammed down into the ground, the reverberation from which knocked the demon’s sword backwards through the air, coincidentally sending me reeling against the wall.
The woman looked at me for a moment, silent but magnificent, a glorious corona of golden light emanating from her before both it and her crumpled and dissolved into nothing. A figure flashed through the mist she left behind, flying through the air and falling to the ground only to spring up again, the demon’s sword held in his hand.
“Gabriel,” I said, astonished.
Baltic froze for a moment, his gaze lingering on me for a second, and I feared for the space between heartbeats that he would kill me.
But as Gabriel stalked toward us, the demon’s blade glowing brightly in his hand, Baltic turned from me and met him with a little salute with his sword.
“I forgot that your mother was a shaman,” Baltic said, glancing toward the space where Kaawa had stood. “It must have cost her much to bring you here.”
“Not as much as it will cost you,” Gabriel said, answering the salute with one of his own. “I have seen paintings of Baltic. You do not bear a resemblance to any of them.”
The dragon merely smiled. “Appearances, as the mortals are so fond of saying, can be deceptive. You intend to fight for your mate.”
It was a statement, not a question.
“She is mine. I will not let her go,” Gabriel said, his eyes lit from deep within.
My heart was overwhelmed with love and fear, not for him, but for myself. I knew that according to dragon dogma, a wyvern’s mate could survive the loss of her dragon, but not the reverse. If Baltic killed Gabriel, though, the pain would just be too much to bear. I would live, but I would remain in the shadow world, hidden from life, bound to a love that would survive regardless of my wishes.
The dragon shard protested such a defeatist attitude, and for once, I welcomed the flow of emotions with which it filled me, easing the dagger from the sheath at my ankle, moving slowly and silently to a position behind Baltic.
“You make it all so easy,” Baltic said, shaking his head a split second before he lunged at Gabriel, his sword leaving a little contrail of blue light as it flashed in a complicated pattern above and around Gabriel.
My admiration for Gabriel, already pretty high, rose even more as he easily parried Baltic’s attacks with the sword of light. I knew from experience the sort of power the former wielded, and yet Gabriel didn’t seem to be affected by them at all. The two men moved in and out of the shadows, in an elegant if powerful dance of light and darkness, Baltic’s blade slicing through the air in quick, sharp movements, while Gabriel’s responses with the demon sword seemed slower and more deliberate, but no less deadly.
I watched for an opening where I could make my own attack, but just as Baltic spun around a broken bit of marble, leaping over Gabriel while slashing downward with his sword, a flash of red sprayed upward. Gabriel grunted and dropped into a roll, getting to his feet slowly, his shirt soaked with blood as his left arm hung at an odd angle. For a moment my eyes saw only the bone and tendons exposed by the blow Baltic had made, nearly slicing off Gabriel’s arm, but then a red mist swept over my vision.
“May!” Gabriel yelled. “Get out of here. Find your way out to safety.”
A horrible noised echoed throughout the shadow world, half roar, half battle cry. My body filled with fire, too much fire, bursting from me in an explosion of anger, fury, and retribution, and I realized with abstracted interest that it was me making all that noise. My body changed, lengthened, sinews and muscles increasing as the fine silver scales swept up from my limbs. I could taste Gabriel’s blood, hear his labored breathing as he continued to fend off Baltic’s increasing attacks, slowly trying to lead him away from me, fighting to the end to save me when it was himself he should be saving.
“May, you must leave!” Gabriel yelled again. “If you shift completely, I don’t know that you can come back!”
No one harmed my mate and lived. That was the thought that consumed me as I lashed out at Baltic, striking him with bloodred claws and a razor-sharp whip of a tail, every atom of my being focused on the destruction of the dragon who hurt my mate.
The ground itself burst into flames as Baltic screamed in pain, his body shifting instantly into that of a dragon . . . but it was white, not black.
His eyes were the same, dark and menacing, filled with knowledge that went beyond that of even the oldest of dragons, and they held me in their grasp for a split second before his body twisted and I was sent flying, slamming backwards into a half-collapsed archway.
The blow left me dazed, watching with unfocused eyes as Gabriel’s form shimmered for a second, then shifted into that of a powerful form that glittered as bright as his eyes. The dragons still held swords, one of Gabriel’s arms limp and bloodied, but the wordless roar that was ripped from his throat promised more than retribution.
He drove the demon’s sword deep into the chest of the white dragon, causing Baltic to shift back into human form. He staggered backwards a few steps, both hands on the hilt of the demon’s sword, a look of amazement on his face. “A shadow sword?”
Gabriel looked startled for an instant as well, but that expression vanished when he returned to his human form. He snatched up the dagger I’d dropped when I transformed, stalking toward Baltic, his head down, one side of his body held higher than the other, his eyes burning with mercurial fire. “She . . . is . . . mine,” he growled, and Baltic, staggering slightly, shook his head as if in disbelief.
“How can you know? It cannot be, and yet, this shadow blade is real. This is not over.”
The roar that followed shook the shadow world. “She is mine!”
Baltic said nothing in response to that, just backed into the shadows and disappeared.
Gabriel stood for a moment, panting with the effort that I knew it took him merely to keep conscious, before turning toward me.
“Little bird,” he said, and dropped to his knees.
I crawled over to him, noting with the same abstracted interest that my hands were no longer silver, but the normal freckled beige I expected.
“He’ll be back,” Gabriel said, gasping for air as I peeled back his shirt. “We have to get out of here.”
He held his left wrist with his right hand, pulling it close to his body to keep the limb from dropping off altogether. I gritted my teeth against the gruesome sight that was his shoulder, ripping off my shirt to bind his arm to his torso, ignoring the little sounds of pain that escaped him. “We must leave, mate.”
“We will,” I said, cradling him to me as the loss of blood caught up with him. His head lolled back against my shoulder. I held him tight, weeping hot, silent tears from the lingering emotions left by the dragon shard.
Chapter Twenty-five
“How’s he feeling—good lord, May!”
A female voice pierced the haze that so often accompanies exhausted sleep. I pushed myself out of it, sitting upright, momentarily confused about where I was.
Aisling stood on the other side of the bed upon which I was lying, a startled expression on her face.
I followed her gaze to my hand, which had been resting on Gabriel’s chest. It was covered in silver scales, the scarlet claws in stark relief against his skin.
“Wow. Half dragon, half girl. That’s gotta be a moneymaker if you set up a webcam,” Jim said, peering over the bed at me.
Panic gripped me as I tried to force the dragon part of me back. If I was starting to shift while sleeping, could it be long before the dragon shard took me over completely?
“Do not distress yourself,” Gabriel said softly to me. “Relax, little bird. Take your time. Do not force the change.”
It was easy for him to say; he wasn’t the one losing himself, I thought bitterly to myself as I nonetheless followed his advice. I took a deep breath and tried to relax my tense muscles, gently but firmly pushing out the volatile emotions that so persistently held me in their grip.
“Aw, man! Now she looks normal. We aren’t going to get rich that way,” Jim said with disgust.
Aisling watched me for a moment. “I guess I should have been asking if you were all right, rather than Gabriel.”
I pushed aside my own troubles to glance anxiously at Gabriel. Unlike the half-dead, unresponsive man whom I’d managed to drag to an exit outside of Abaddon, he looked positively brimming with health now, his color good, his breathing unlabored.
“Tipene is a good healer, but I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for May,” he answered with a slight grimace.
Drake entered the room, giving Aisling a pointed look before pulling a chair over behind her and gently pushing her down into it.
“Are you still in pain?” I asked, quickly checking the bandage that was wrapped around his shoulder. “Do you want me to call Tipene?”
“No, that face was a reflection of my failure,” he answered, taking my hand and kissing my fingers.
“Failure? What failure? You did the impossible, Gabriel—you saved me from Baltic when no one else could have,” I said, relieved by the spark of sexual interest that lit in his eyes. If he was feeling randy, then he couldn’t still be in much pain.
“You had to rescue me,” he answered, disgruntled. “It should have been the reverse.”
“If your arm hadn’t nearly been hacked off, I would punch you in your shoulder so hard you’d flinch,” I said softly.
He grinned, and instantly the dragon shard insisted I jump his bones.
“Honest to god, men,” Aisling muttered, giving both Gabriel and Drake a dark look. “I understand protecting your loved ones, but this is just pure macho, and you both know it. Although I admit I don’t understand the whole thing, since May was fairly incoherent when she called us. With worry, naturally, but still, you did promise to tell us what happened. Jim dished with a little of what happened after I summoned it back, but we want to hear the full story.”
I examined Gabriel’s face. There were faint lines around his mouth that gave a hint as to how much pain he’d been in until I’d managed to drag him out of Abaddon, but otherwise, he looked up to a recap.
“Before we go into that, did you get Chuan Ren out?” he asked.
Drake nodded. “We did. She has left to go deal with Fiat.”
“Deal with?” I asked, not easy in my mind about what we had unleashed, but knowing there was no other option. “As in kill?”
“Possibly,” Drake said, his fingers caressing the back of Aisling’s neck. I was struck once again by their bond, by the deep love the two shared. Would the dragon shard let me love Gabriel the same why? Or had it already changed me so that I would never have that kind of quiet contentment? The dragon emotions were so volatile, so explosive, so totally at odds with my normal, placid self, I couldn’t help but mourn what couldn’t be.
“He’s got it coming to him,” Jim said, plopping itself down on the floor. “I bet he would have had a blast in Abaddon. Not that Chuan Ren is much better. She killed her whole family, didn’t she?”
“It’s possible that Chuan Ren may attempt to kill Fiat,” Gabriel said thoughtfully, his fingers stroking mine. “But it’s also quite possible that the reverse may be true, as well. Fiat seems each day to become more and more unhinged. It would be madness to try to eliminate Chuan Ren, but if his ability to reason is gone, then he may try it.”
“Which would be his own destruction,” Drake said, nodding. “Chuan Ren is too strong to take by a coup. It will be interesting, however, to see what happens.”
“I don’t honestly care so long as she doesn’t try to declare war again,” Aisling said, patting her belly.
Drake smiled. “I believe Fiat will be the target of her spleen for a while. And after that”—he glanced at me—“we shall see.”
“So what exactly happened after Bael chased you back into the shadow world?” Aisling asked, making herself comfortable.
I went quickly over recent events, recounting faithfully everything Baltic had said.
“You’re sure he was a white dragon?” Drake asked, frowning.
I glanced at Gabriel, whose lips had thinned. “That’s what I saw, but admittedly, I had just cracked my head on the stone wall and was a bit muzzy still.”
“He was white,” Gabriel agreed. “I was expecting black, not that he looked anything like the portraits of Baltic. Still, he might have changed his appearance. But he was white, Drake, white.”
“Is there a white sept?” Aisling asked her husband. “Or rather, was there at one time?”
“No to both questions,” he answered.
“This is really confusing, then,” Aisling said, and I wholly agreed with her.
“It does seem somewhat conflicting,” I said. “On the one hand, he didn’t deny being Baltic, but he also said something about appearances being deceptive, and he was definitely not a black dragon. Which he would be unless he was made ouroboros, wouldn’t he?”
Gabriel’s fingers tightened around mine. “Yes. Baltic wasn’t ouroboros.”
“White’s the opposite of black. Maybe he’s the anti-Baltic,” Jim said.
We all looked at it.
“What?” it asked, its eyes wide.
“Can there be such a thing?” I asked Gabriel.
His forehead wrinkled as he thought. “I’ve never heard of it, but then, I’ve never heard of a dragon having access to the beyond, or wielding a blade of light. That is the weapon of an arcane master, not a dragon.”
“Baltic is said to have trained with an archimage,” Drake said slowly.
“Which would explain why, if he was Baltic, he responded so violently to the wrath demon’s sword,” Gabriel said, looking thoughtful.
“I know I’m going to regret asking this, but what is the big deal about a wrath demon’s sword, other than it’s obviously a badass weapon?” Aisling asked.
“Can’t take her anywhere,” Jim said, shaking its head.
“Quiet, demonic one. May? Do you know?”
Aisling asked me.
“I know something about them, but not as much as someone more learned in Abaddon,” I answered. “Wrath demons are the equivalent to wyverns’ bodyguards. They are an elite corps, very nasty customers, kind of semi-demon lords used to enact only the most deadly of events. Unlike other minions, who rely upon their demon lords for their powers, wrath demons have the ability to use the dark power directly. They imbue that power into weapons, most preferring to use blades of some sort since it’s hard to kill an immortal unless you can sever their head, or twain them in two, or something equally impossible to recover from.”
“OK. But what does that have to do with this dragon?” she asked.
“A mage uses arcane magic,” Gabriel answered. “Part of that is based on the ability to manipulate light. Beings who use arcane powers are particularly susceptible to dark power.”
“So when Gabriel skewered the dragon with the wrath demon’s shadow blade—a fancy name for a sword imbued with dark power—it had an extra wallop,” I finished.
“Ah. That makes sense. But it doesn’t sound like this dragon is Baltic.”
Drake rubbed his chin, his gaze sightless as he thought. “It is conceivable that the dragon was Baltic. The sword of light would fit that premise. We already know he’s been able to go into the beyond at will.”
“Oh! That’s what I wanted to ask, but forgot. How did your mom get you in there?” Aisling asked Gabriel.
I wanted to know that as well.
“My mother has several dreamings, or aspects of nature. She sought aid from them to allow me access to the beyond. I fear that she promised them much in exchange for their help.”
“So you showed up just in the nick of time, and rescued your damsel from the big bad dragon. That’s really very romantic,” she said, giving us both a gentle smile.
My gaze dropped as my fingers twined through Gabriel’s. It was terribly romantic, but I found it impossible to celebrate when I stood on the brink of personal destruction.