Darkfire Kiss Page 3

  Sweat slid down her back during those precious seconds.

  She thought she heard a step behind her, but when she glanced back, there was nothing but more darkness. Could she hear someone breathing? Could she feel someone watching her?

  Or was she imagining problems that didn’t exist?

  She forced herself to recall Daphne’s description of the house and peered into the shadows. If this opening to the left was the main corridor, then Montmorency’s office would be the first door on the right.

  What kind of person wouldn’t leave on a single light at night? It was so dark in the house that Melissa felt she was being swallowed alive. It was weird and a bit creepy. There should have been appliances with lit displays, at least. Not a lot of light but some.

  Instead, the house was as devoid of light as a black hole. Melissa could feel the hair standing up on the back of her neck.

  She couldn’t sense the ceiling and guessed that it was high. A grand interior, then. Well, Montmorency could afford it, if he was doing the business she knew he was. Crime paid well. She wouldn’t consider that she might benefit financially from this theft.

  No. She reminded her conscience that her choice was about Daphne and justice and the greater good. Melissa stepped with care, ensuring that she didn’t make a sound.

  It was hard to shake the sense that she was being watched.

  Maybe just by her moral code. Were there motion detectors? Daphne had insisted that the computerized door locks were the only security. Trapped in the house’s shadows, Melissa began to doubt that assertion.

  Was it really plausible that a man like Montmorency, a man in his high-risk business, had such a simple security system?

  Was Daphne lying? Why would she? Doubts assailed Melissa, but it was too late to turn back. She kept going. The crime was done: she might as well try to get the book.

  Melissa turned the corner and guessed that she was leaving the servants’ quarters for the main house. The flooring changed, becoming wood instead of practical tile. She could hear the trickle of water ahead, and it relieved her to hear something that could orient her. She recalled Daphne’s description in the diary of the fountain in the foyer.

  She was on the right track, then. Another step and an open doorway loomed on her right, a rectangle of obsidian that arched high overhead. What high doorways Montmorency had. Why? Maybe his ego required that much space.

  Cold air seemed to emanate from the room, and there was an earthy smell that made her shiver in revulsion.

  There was her conscience again.

  Melissa eased into the room and pulled the flashlight from her pocket. Daphne had said the office had no windows and that it was secure in the middle of the house. If she was in the office and she was alone, no one would see Melissa’s light.

  She hesitated, her thumb on the button. What if she was wrong?

  She took another step, put out her hand, found the corner of a piece of furniture. Her fingers quickly discovered it was a desk.

  Ha. She wasn’t wrong.

  Relief flooded through her, and she turned on the flashlight. She had a moment to note the midcentury teak furnishings that Daphne had described before a man whispered behind her.

  “Bad choice,” he said.

  Melissa spun in terror. She almost dropped the flashlight, and certainly it wavered in her grip.

  A man stood behind her, a man unlike any man she’d ever seen before. He was tall and broad, his leather jacket doing nothing to hide his muscular build. He looked powerful—powerful enough to snap her in half, if he so chose.

  Instead, he waited for her explanation. His hair was long and wavy, the kind of hair she’d love to have, a dark chestnut color filled with red glints. He wore a black and white ring that looked to be made of glass, a ring she saw when he folded his arms across his chest.

  It was his eyes, though, that captivated her. They were dark, as dark as bittersweet chocolate, and filled with a knowingness that shook her to her toes. They shone with wisdom and disappointment, and she knew he could be a hard judge. She had the sense that he could see right to her heart, that he knew everything she had done and said, everything that had brought her to this place, every secret she’d ever ferreted away.

  And he didn’t approve of her choice.

  It was her conscience live and in person.

  But in the guise of a sexy stranger.

  A very sexy stranger.

  But who was he? Did he work for Montmorency?

  Thinking fast, Melissa swallowed and struggled to come up with a good explanation for her presence. It was pretty much impossible, given that she was lost in this man’s incredible eyes. She opened her mouth and closed it again, more inarticulate than she would have believed possible. He waited, patient and motionless, and she felt herself start to blush.

  “Very bad choice,” another man said, his voice not as low as that of Mr. Conscience. He had a European accent. Although Melissa couldn’t place its origin, she recognized that voice.

  As Mr. Conscience spun, Melissa cast the light of the flashlight over his shoulder. The light glinted on the smile of Magnus Montmorency, who stood in the doorway of his office.

  Holding a gun.

  The barrel was pointed directly at Melissa’s heart.

  Okay, so the plan hadn’t worked out as well as she’d hoped.

  Melissa didn’t have time to come up with a new strategy, not before the guy with the great eyes began to shimmer blue around his perimeter. It had to be an illusion, a trick of the darkness. People didn’t shimmer. But by the time she’d blinked and looked again, something even stranger had happened.

  There were two dragons in the light of her flashlight, and the two men were gone. Montmorency’s gun fell to the floor with a clatter as Melissa gaped at the dragons.

  What had happened to Mr. Conscience and Montmorency?

  And where had the dragons come from? She would have noticed them, no matter where they’d been hiding. They were huge.

  She thought about that blue shimmer and wondered.

  Impossible.

  The dragons roared at each other and started to fight.

  The light of her flashlight shone on the gun on the hardwood floor. The gun was reassuringly real and lethal, something she understood.

  The sight of it gave Melissa her new plan.

  How could a thief look so innocent?

  Maybe that was how she got away with her crimes.

  All the same, Rafferty felt something melt inside him when he confronted the woman who had illegally entered Magnus’s home. Her skin was a rich gold, maybe indicative of a mixed racial background.

  Rafferty was entranced by her eyes. They were marvelous—thickly lashed and exotic, tipped up at the outer corners. They were a vivid shade of green.

  Her lips were full and luscious, tempting him to touch them with a fingertip, to see if they were really as silky soft as they appeared. The yearning that had been nudging at him redoubled in her presence, reminding him how long he had fought alone. When she caught her breath and retreated, the end of her scarf fell at the move, revealing the sleek golden length of her neck.

  Rafferty took a step closer, beguiled by that perfume, enchanted by the sight of her, wanting as he had never wanted. Something primal in him roared, demanding satisfaction, and he thought he saw an answering desire in the woman’s magnificent eyes.

  Her blush made him forget himself completely. It had seemed so out of character for a bold thief to blush, and he’d been transfixed by the slow spread of rosiness. He’d been so awed by her beauty that he hadn’t been listening as keenly as he should have for Magnus.

  And Magnus was home.

  Rafferty pivoted to face his old foe, shifting shape in a heartbeat. He forgot about defending the woman from the sight of his transformation, more intent upon protecting her. Magnus was ahead of him, already having changed to a jade and gold dragon. His gun fell to the floor just as Magnus breathed fire at Rafferty.

  Raf
ferty was astonished to see how Magnus had healed since their last encounter, and he wondered again whether the old Slayer had a hidden stash of Dragon’s Blood Elixir. Or had he learned some new secret from Chen? There was no doubt that the Slayer was in fine form once again.

  But he was as vicious as ever. Magnus was immediately on the offensive, slashing toward Rafferty with one claw and catching him across the jaw just before he completed his shift. Rafferty stumbled backward at the sting of the blow, then leapt at Magnus. Magnus retreated to the foyer, Rafferty bounding after him, and the pair locked claws to grapple for supremacy.

  Did the woman work for Magnus?

  Had she been sent to distract Rafferty on purpose?

  Or was she being manipulated by Magnus, as well? Rafferty had no time to think about it. Thief or pawn, she wasn’t a woman he should trust.

  Much less one he should want.

  The old Slayer was strong, stronger than he had been. He bent Rafferty’s talons back and exhaled a stinging torrent of dragonfire. His eyes glittered dangerously, and Rafferty wondered what new tricks his enemy had learned.

  “Always good to see you again,” Magnus murmured in old-speak. “Although I would have expected you to knock.”

  “The door was open,” Rafferty replied in kind.

  Magnus laughed. “You thought the house was empty.”

  “I chose to accept your lure.” Rafferty smiled with confidence, letting Magnus think he might not be alone.

  Magnus moved like lightning to strike Rafferty again, sending the Pyr into one wall. That wall vibrated hard, but Rafferty barely felt the blow. He leapt after Magnus, locking his talons around his throat. Magnus shook free, the pair exchanging blow after blow as they moved down the corridor.

  “You didn’t know,” Magnus scoffed. “You couldn’t sense me.”

  “No,” Rafferty insisted, “but I know you. I can anticipate you.” He proved it by ducking a blow, feinting, and driving his head up hard beneath Magnus’s ribs.

  Magnus hissed in pain, then kicked Rafferty. “So, you stepped willingly into the trap. How…valiant.” Magnus emitted another mocking laugh, one that was cut short.

  Rafferty had quickly locked his tail around Magnus’s tail. He entwined their two tails, holding Magnus captive, then tugged hard. Magnus lost his balance and stumbled closer, just as Rafferty slashed at the Slayer’s gut with one back claw. Rafferty’s golden talons cut deep, leaving four parallel wounds across Magnus’s gut—cuts that oozed black blood. The blood pooled on the floor, gleaming and slick. Rafferty slammed Magnus into the wall, and the entire house shook.

  Where was the woman?

  Rafferty strained his ears, trying to hear some sound that would indicate her presence. Nothing. He didn’t dare to glance away from Magnus to look for her.

  If she’d chosen to run, she wouldn’t get far.

  What if she was on Magnus’s side? What if she was preparing a trap? He struggled to hear some hint of her presence, alarmed when he could detect none.

  At the same time, he held fast to Magnus.

  He squeezed, letting his talons dig into the old Slayer’s hide. Magnus cried out in pain and struggled for release. Rafferty held him, loosing dragonfire on his enemy.

  An elegant runner, rich with pattern, ran the length of the hall floor, and Rafferty regretted when the carpet ignited. It had been stained, probably irreparably, with the Slayer’s blood, anyway. It burned quickly, and the light of the hungry flames danced high, illuminating the pale walls with orange.

  Rafferty spared a glance toward Magnus’s office, but there was no sign of the woman.

  The gun was gone, too. Interesting. Had she taken anything else? He suspected then that she wasn’t in league with Magnus at all.

  Maybe this thief was smarter than he’d thought.

  Magnus twisted in Rafferty’s grip, appearing to be more injured than Rafferty expected. He coughed and writhed, then moaned feebly. Rafferty held fast, declining to be fooled by this old serpent. He thrashed his opponent, then aimed his dragonfire at the scarred skin where Magnus was missing a scale.

  He would finish this now.

  Magnus cried out in pain, arched his back, then froze.

  He began to breathe slowly and deeply, his eyes narrowed to shining slits of malice. Rafferty had a moment to feel dread before Magnus’s dragonsmoke unfurled.

  Chapter 2

  Rafferty saw the tongue of dragonsmoke winding toward him before he felt it. He knew the silvery ribbon of smoke would make a conduit if it touched him, allowing Magnus to steal his strength.

  The dragonsmoke coiled, beginning to spiral around Rafferty. He had the sudden thought that it would strangle him, catch him around the throat, and milk him dry. He decked Magnus one last time and backed away, his blow making no difference to Magnus’s breathing.

  In fact, the old Slayer’s eyes glinted brighter, shining like jewels even as his blood pooled on the floor and his carpet burned. The fire burned high, surrounding the old Slayer and illuminating his jade scales.

  His dragonsmoke wound ever closer.

  Rafferty struggled to evade it, even as Magnus breathed a longer and longer tendril of unbroken dragonsmoke. Rafferty ducked and weaved, aiming dragonfire at Magnus all the while, but the old Slayer had focus. He never broke that stream of dragonsmoke; ultimately, Rafferty had to retreat to escape its touch.

  He backed down the hallway, the silvery dragonsmoke still targeting him. It wound through the air toward him, relentless in its quest. Rafferty backed away as quickly as he could, but the dragonsmoke kept pace.

  He saw that Magnus had straightened and that he was holding his injured gut with one claw while bracing himself against the wall. He continued to breathe slowly and deeply. He was grinning, well aware of Rafferty’s predicament, but his pleasure in his deed didn’t interfere with his performance.

  The tendril was impressive in its length. It was thick and robust, too.

  “Why don’t you come closer?” Magnus taunted in old-speak. “Why don’t we just end it now?” His smile broadened. “Or are you hoping to negotiate for a sip of the Elixir?”

  He flicked his tongue then, catching the last tendril of dragonsmoke. His eyes brightened as he deftly wove that last end together with the one he had started to breathe, breaching the interruption with startling ease.

  Rafferty kept backing away. “The source is destroyed. If you have any left, and I doubt you do, you’ll never share it.”

  “Then maybe you want an old secret or two.”

  “You have no secrets I wish to know.”

  “How can you be sure? Kill me and so much knowledge will be lost forever.”

  “We’ll be well rid of it.”

  Magnus laughed in disbelief, breathing smoke all the while. The smoke came after Rafferty, shimmering in the light of the fire, but moving with steady determination. Magnus breathed with more power, and Rafferty wished he had the Slayer’s ability to cut smoke.

  Without it, he had to retreat into the servants’ corridor, shifting back to human form to fit into the working spaces. There was no sign of the thief anywhere. He suspected she was smart enough to have fled the house. He could see Magnus in the foyer, his dragon form silhouetted by the flames that consumed his carpet. He was so fixated on breathing dragonsmoke that he didn’t seem to care about any damage to himself from the fire.

  Rafferty hastened for the back door, the smoke right behind him. It wound through the air, at shoulder level, relentless and persistent. As soon as Rafferty stepped out of the house, the smoke halted, much to his surprise. It was as if Magnus had wanted only to drive them apart.

  To give himself time to recover.

  That meant this was Rafferty’s chance to finish their duel to the death. Magnus was weaker than he’d believed.

  Rafferty made to step back into the house, but the dragonsmoke had spun itself into a wall of glittering white. It was impenetrable, like a barricade of ice, one that would burn him if he touched it. I
t defended Magnus better than his security system, blocking Rafferty’s access completely.

  “The disadvantage of a long acquaintanceship such as ours,” Magnus said in melodic old-speak, his words sliding into Rafferty’s thoughts, “is that we each can anticipate the other.”

  Rafferty felt frustration that Magnus knew he couldn’t cut the smoke. “This isn’t over. We exchanged challenge coins….”

  “Of course it’s not over. But you’re concerned for the human. As always.” Magnus sighed with forbearance.

  That Magnus believed humans to be disposable was key to his perspective as a Slayer, but that didn’t mean Rafferty didn’t find it annoying. “It is our mission as Pyr to defend the treasure of the earth, including humans….”

  “Yes, yes. But you and I define treasure rather differently.” Magnus paused, and Rafferty heard laughter in his tone when he continued. “I wonder which of us will find her first.”

  Rafferty heard a car engine start. It sounded as if it were down the street. He could have guessed whose car it was, especially when the tires squealed in the driver’s haste to get away.

  Magnus chuckled darkly, as if in anticipation of a tasty meal.

  The woman’s perfume teased Rafferty’s nostrils, kindling that very male awareness of her. Rafferty knew she was a fool if she imagined she could break into Magnus’s home wearing that scent and get away with it. The Slayer would be able to track her anywhere.

  Rafferty knew he’d need to do that first.

  Just as Magnus anticipated.

  Maybe the woman didn’t know Magnus’s truth. Maybe she didn’t realize how keen his senses were.

  Why hadn’t she been driven mad by the sight of them both shifting shape in unison? It was a puzzle he had no time to solve.

  Because Rafferty felt the first tingle of the pending eclipse. In that moment, he knew he had lost this opportunity to finish Magnus. The next time he met Magnus, the Slayer would be stronger.

  All the same, he had to find the woman first.

  Magnus laughed when Rafferty turned away—evidence that he had come to the same conclusion. Maybe the spark of a new firestorm would draw the Slayer from his smoke-defended lair. Rafferty could only hope. He strode into the garden, deaf for once to Gaia’s complaints, and shifted shape. He was just about to take flight when Magnus shouted.