Kiss of Fire Read online

  The bulk of their argument had been persuading Quinn that Sara had to be the one to go through the smoke to get the Wyvern. Quinn wanted to go himself, but there was consensus that passing through a thick wall of smoke wasn’t the same as being touched on the shin with it. Quinn hadn’t been able to persuade the others that even dragonfire could heal him of that, and Sara had seen that he wasn’t sure himself. The others likely sensed his doubts.

  It made no sense to Sara to risk Quinn and his skills, when she could walk right through the smoke. Seeing that Quinn hadn’t had another alternative to present, and that the Pyr similarly valued him, Sara’s view had taken the vote.

  When the vote was in, Quinn had become even more grim and silent. He had closed the meeting by insisting that Rafferty teach Sara about blocking any attempt to beguile her. That was the last thing he’d said to her, and she certainly hadn’t seen him smile since.

  It was more than their being separated by their tasks. There was a rift between herself and Quinn, although Sara hoped it was just because he had lost his argument in their council that morning. She knew he would have preferred to have left her secure elsewhere, but the ugly truth was that there was no such place.

  The other Pyr spent the day strategizing, perfecting Quinn’s skills at folding away his garments, working out signals between each other. They’d speculated on the nature of Lucien’s claws and how they could be replicated. Quinn hadn’t set up his booth, even though it was the last day of the show.

  Sara knew that Quinn’s time in Ann Arbor was pretty much at an end. What next? Would he go back to his land near Traverse City? She had a keen sense that Quinn was slipping into the world of the Pyr. He was taking up the responsibility that was his, but at the same time, he was less a part of the world she knew. She still felt him watching her, but she had a sense that something had ended.

  Or changed.

  Maybe it hadn’t been such a great idea to remind him of his lost wife. Maybe Sara had reminded him of his love for Elizabeth and that had put an end to their relationship before it really started.

  She wished there was a way to know for sure. Part of what she admired about Quinn was his code of honor, but she would have liked to have remained on the right side of it.

  Sara remembered the Wyvern’s words and wondered. Was the transformation in Quinn the product of their relationship that would save the Pyr? It was undeniable that the Pyr were stronger with his abilities, and that he was stronger with their tutelage. That would only increase with time.

  In the middle of the afternoon, Sara watched Erik brace himself for a hit of dragonfire and heard the others cheer as he managed to deflect some of its force. The Pyr huddled closer to review what had happened and listen to Quinn, who spoke to them with authority. In one way, she yearned to be a part of their group and hear what he was saying. In another, she knew such knowledge wasn’t hers to have. She wanted Quinn to be all that he could be and to embrace what he was.

  Rafferty had to summon her attention back to his lessons repeatedly. When she made excuses, there was sympathy in his gaze and patience in his tone. Sara could have asked him about the firestorm, but instead she turned to a voice she could trust.

  At her request and with Quinn’s approval, Rafferty escorted Sara back to The Scrying Glass. The sight of the mermaid door knocker, all black and cold, made Sara a bit sad, as if the mermaid spoke of something past. She felt a bit funny talking to Magda in Rafferty’s presence. “I have to talk to the ghost,” she said to him. “It’s my aunt Magda.”

  Rafferty smiled and leaned against the cash desk. “Little surprises me after so many centuries, Sara.”

  “Then you believe in ghosts?”

  “There is little that I disbelieve. What is more important is what you believe.”

  He had a way of answering questions that left Sara with more questions, much like the Wyvern, but Sara didn’t say as much. It was an annoying trait, and one she was glad that Quinn didn’t share.

  “All right, Magda,” she said to the empty store. “Give me a clue.”

  She waited for a book to fall.

  Instead, the air conditioner, which had been silent, whirred into action and ran efficiently. Rafferty looked up at the ceiling. Meanwhile, something seemed to be fidgeting in Sara’s purse. She opened it, beneath Rafferty’s bemused gaze, and found the red velvet bag of Magda’s tarot cards at the very top. She’d been sure that they’d sunk to the bottom, along with the breath mints. She pulled them out and went to the cash desk, putting her bag down there while she shuffled.

  “I think Magda likes to play games,” she told Rafferty.

  “Most ghosts do.”

  Sara considered the cards, then thought she had a better source of information. She was a bit worried about what the cards might say, a bit concerned that her instincts would be supported.

  “Is the firestorm only about mating, Rafferty?”

  He frowned slightly. “I would be lying if I told you that it is more than that for all Pyr. Many regard it simply as a chance to breed.”

  “And others?”

  He nodded. “There is a view among some Pyr that the union of a firestorm is greater than that of biology. There is a persistent idea that Pyr and mate can be more together than apart.” Rafferty smiled. “But for the first group, of course, that’s just a persistent myth.”

  “Do you know what Quinn believes?”

  Rafferty shook his head. “I don’t know him well enough and haven’t known him long enough to have discussed such things. You have to realize that the firestorm is very intimate, that many Pyr will never discuss it with anyone.”

  Sara refrained from saying anything about men refusing to discuss their emotions. Instead, she shuffled the cards, focusing her mind on her questions. She pulled one from the deck and placed it on the counter.

  It was the “Falling Tower,” which seemed unlikely to be a good omen. The card was right side up and showed a stone tower being struck by lightning.

  She fanned through the book of interpretations, hoping for the best. She didn’t find it under the meanings for this card. “Sudden changes are afoot. The walls are tumbling and nothing will ever be the same again. Get ready to be shocked—or struck by lightning.”

  Rafferty chuckled. “Magda doesn’t pull any punches, does she?”

  “It sounds really bad.”

  “Change always sounds bad,” Rafferty said with a reassuring smile. “I think we make it worse by resisting it. Sometimes the only thing worth pursuing is change. How else would we learn anything?”

  “So maybe I asked the wrong question. Change is ahead, but what are the stakes?”

  “An apt question,” Rafferty said with approval.

  Sara drew a card. It was the “Magician,” and it was inverted.

  “How interesting that you draw only the higher arcana cards,” Rafferty mused. “You must be keenly attuned to this deck.”

  Sara was too busy looking up the card. The “Magician” spoke of a skilled craftsperson, or someone focused on solving a specific problem or achieving a goal. Sara knew someone like that. But when the card was inverted, it meant that person wasn’t working at his full potential, or that he might fail.

  “What kind of a man makes promises that he can’t know he can fulfill?” Rafferty whispered. “Not an honest one.”

  “Not Quinn,” Sara said. “But nothing will go wrong….”

  “Much can go wrong, Sara. And if you do not return quickly with the Wyvern, who do you think will go after you?”

  Sara met the Pyr’s steady gaze. “It’s too risky for Quinn to cross the smoke. It could kill him.”

  “We already have seen that he will sacrifice for the greater good. He is that kind of Pyr.”

  “Then you have to stop him.”

  “Not all arguments are persuasive to all men, Sara.”

  Sara frowned and put the cards away. “Then we have to win,” she said with determination. “There’s no other acceptable answer.�
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  She was well aware that Rafferty didn’t agree with her.

  It was a bruised but determined crew that met on the roof of Erik’s hotel that evening. Sara was tired from her day under Rafferty’s instruction, but she felt better able to defend herself against beguiling.

  She was going to need all the help she could get.

  When the Pyr met on the roof of Erik’s hotel, they were as ready as they could be in just a day. Donovan’s stomach was still wounded, although the cuts had closed, and he had a nick out of the top of his wings. Sara still wouldn’t have wanted to face him in a dark alley, not with his eyes flashing fire the way they did now. Quinn had a similarly closed wound on his temple and Sara had a vivid purple bruise around her neck. Niall, Rafferty, and Erik had no physical injuries, but their expressions were grim.

  The sun was setting on a day that had been sunny and clear, and the first stars were emerging. It could have been a romantic moment to be on a roof, but Sara was filled with determination and dread. Quinn offered his hand to her and she put her hand in his, noting that he didn’t smile. No spark danced between them. She frowned, wondering when that had slipped away, and met his gaze.

  He shook his head and frowned, his gaze turning skyward.

  “It’s over then?” she asked, her throat tight.

  “I didn’t know it would be so fleeting,” Quinn murmured, as if in apology.

  But what did that mean? Was that the change indicated by the cards? Or was there more?

  Sara had no chance to ask. Erik gave the signal and the six of them leapt from the roof, shifting shape in unison. There was something glorious about the sight of them, the last of the sunlight winking off their scales. They were magnificent creatures, almost pure power. The only one Sara hadn’t seen in dragon form before was Sloane and he was eye-catching—his scales shaded in all the hues of tourmaline, easing from green to purple through gold and back again.

  Sara heard a rumble like thunder and as she watched, she knew that the Pyr had to be aware of each other’s intentions. It wasn’t the first time she’d sensed that there was more going on than she could perceive. It wasn’t telepathy, maybe just speech on a sound wave that she couldn’t hear well.

  It made her feel alone, isolated. Maybe just useful.

  But Sara had volunteered to help. She was the one who heard the Wyvern and the call must have come to her for a reason. She wanted to help the Pyr and wanted to save the earth.

  Mostly, she wanted to help Quinn. Sara felt Quinn’s tension as he carried her aloft and wondered at its source.

  Had he volunteered to save the Wyvern because their firestorm was over and his legacy had been passed along? Did he see his life as ended because of the firestorm?

  Was she pregnant?

  How exactly were things supposed to work from this point onward? Well, she knew how the pregnancy would progress, given that Quinn had said it would be exactly like a human pregnancy, but what about her relationship with Quinn?

  Or did they even have a relationship?

  It seemed a bit late for her to have so many questions, especially as they were good ones. The wind stirred her hair and Sara acknowledged just how much she wanted to have a future with Quinn.

  Of course, that didn’t always change anything—she’d thought she’d wanted a relationship with Tom, but that hadn’t stopped him from packing and moving out.

  Quinn was different. Sara was sure of it.

  As Rafferty had said, change was important. Change was how everyone learned. Some change was necessary, given the state of the world. Sara had to believe that if she and Quinn survived this challenge, they could make a future together.

  She chose to believe it.

  The cabin looked precisely the same. Quinn still didn’t like it. Only one Slayer perched on the roof and Quinn knew he wasn’t the only one who sniffed intently for the presence of others.

  “One to the south,” Niall murmured in old-speak. “About a mile away. Sleeping. The others are not close.”

  “That leaves three unaccounted for, assuming they haven’t replaced Lucien,” Erik said. “Any idea who is where?”

  “That’s Everett on the roof,” Donovan said. “I recognize his turquoise scales and his size.”

  “You’ve met?” Quinn asked.

  Donovan nodded. “Mean bastard, and strong.”

  “It’s Xavier who is sleeping nearby,” Rafferty contributed. “The earth sings to me of his healing wounds.”

  “He’s the one you almost killed the other night,” Erik said to Quinn. “The garnet red one. I’m surprised he’s alive at all.”

  “We probably don’t have to worry about him much then.” Sloane was convinced that the Slayer couldn’t have healed that quickly, but Erik remained skeptical.

  “I don’t think we should make such assumptions,” he said. “We don’t know what secrets they’ve learned, and you’ve said yourself that much healing lore is lost.”

  Sloane looked grim. “Why do the evil ones have to have all the advantages?” he muttered.

  “Because they plan it that way,” Donovan said.

  Erik surveyed the cabin far below. “I dislike that the oldest Slayers are the ones that seem absent.”

  “What do you mean?” Niall demanded. “I can’t smell them, so they aren’t here.”

  “Not necessarily. There are old ways of disguising one’s presence. Be prepared for surprise,” Erik spoke curtly. “When something looks too easy, it often is.”

  “It’s the Slayer way,” Rafferty agreed easily.

  “Quinn and I will take the Seer down,” Erik said. “That’s what they’ll expect. The rest of you turn back as if you’re leaving us to it, as if we’ve taken this situation at face value. Remain high and hidden until I call.” At his nod, the others turned their course back to Ann Arbor and Quinn turned into a dive beside Erik.

  The two Pyrs’ wings whistled in the wind as they fell upon Everett with fearsome speed. They split at the last minute, and attacked Everett from two sides. The Slayer roared and took flight. He was large, just as Donovan had said, and there was a hatred in his eyes that would give him extra strength.

  “Back claw,” Quinn murmured to Sara, deftly changing his grip upon her. He needed his front claws free to fight and he was glad that she gripped his talon herself. She’d be less likely to fall.

  She kept quiet but he was aware of the terrified pounding of her heart. He couldn’t imagine being the partner of a woman inclined to hysterics. Sara’s outward calm let him concentrate on doing his part.

  It ensured that they worked better as a team.

  Quinn turned a stream of dragonfire on Everett, and the Slayer fell back. Erik struck him across the head from behind.

  The blow, which would have felled a smaller Pyr, had no discernible effect upon Everett. He spied Sara and leapt toward Quinn, claws extended.

  “How thoughtful of you to bring me a snack,” he hissed in old-speak. Quinn locked front claws with him and felt his power. They grappled for dominance, tumbling out of the sky as they wrestled each other’s grip. Sara had a death grip on Quinn’s talon and he could feel her biting back her scream, especially when Everett tried to snatch her away with his own back claw.

  Quinn struck Everett hard with his tail, using all of his might, then sank his teeth into the Slayer’s neck. Everett tore his neck free, his dark blood running over his scales. Quinn held Sara away from the volatile blood, knowing it would injure her if it splashed on her. Everett’s eyes glinted; then he loosed dragonfire in Sara’s direction.

  Quinn twisted to take the flames on his back and lifted Sara in front of his chest to protect her. Everett latched on to Quinn’s wings from behind. His talons sank deep and Quinn had a hard time staying aloft with the Slayer on his back. To his relief, Sara was breathing quickly, but uninjured. She had that set to her chin that meant she was ready to fight.

  Erik fell on Everett from behind, ripping into the Slayer’s leathery wings. Everett bellowed
in pain, released Quinn, and turned on Erik. He breathed dragonfire with such force that Erik fell back. The Slayer followed the leader of the Pyr, evidently thinking that he could finish the kill.

  “Now,” Sara whispered. She was right: this was their chance.

  Quinn set Sara down quickly in front of the cabin. The door was still nailed shut and he couldn’t cross the smoke to open it for her. Instead he breathed his fire, being careful not to incinerate much more than the door. His stores of dragonfire were running low, and he had to save some for their escape.

  “Good,” Sara said. She glanced up. “Behind you!” she cried, then darted into the cabin.

  Quinn spun to find the malachite green dragon closing fast on him. The others were close by! Somehow they had hidden themselves from perception.

  But then, Boris and Ambrose were very old, old enough to have learned such tricks. Quinn didn’t know this Slayer, but he’d kill him just the same. He left Sara to the Wyvern’s wisdom for the moment. He lunged skyward, and struck the green Slayer out of the air with a mighty crack of his tail.

  Unlike last time, though, Quinn knew better than to trust this Slayer to stay down.

  “Time to render the balance due,” Quinn said as the green dragon came up with his front claws extended to fight.

  “Suits me, Smith,” he agreed, and they locked claws in battle.

  “We have to hurry!” Sara said to the Wyvern. The cabin was filled with smoke. Sara couldn’t see it but she could feel its chill on her skin.

  Rafferty was right: Quinn would follow her if she took too long and Sara knew this much smoke would kill him.

  The Wyvern, though, wasn’t looking too healthy. She was even more pale than before and didn’t seem to have the strength to even lift her head.

  “You have to help me,” Sara insisted, trying to pick up the shackled woman. Sophie was heavy, despite her slenderness, and Sara quickly realized she couldn’t carry her.

  “My task is fulfilled,” Sophie murmured. “You should not have come.”