Kiss of Fury Page 30

  “None of that matters anymore,” he said, his tone dismissive. “Let’s plant the Dragon’s Tooth and get to the important work. Ticktock. Time is wasting.”

  Rafferty chose a spot in the wide expanse of grass behind the house. He had a feeling that something was going to happen and he would have appreciated Erik’s input. The force he had sensed in the earth was still.

  But close.

  And watchful.

  It had been agitated when Donovan and Alex had crept into the bedroom upstairs. The muffled sound of their lovemaking clearly had disturbed it.

  And drawn it closer. Rafferty himself had felt singed by the heat of the firestorm and awed by its power.

  Had the creature in the earth been drawn to it, too?

  Rafferty was prepared to keep his own counsel as the others followed their instinct. He had learned long before that the Great Wyvern worked in mysterious ways and that any effort to direct things often turned back on itself. He would wait and facilitate if necessary but not push.

  The sky was turning rosy over the lake and birds were beginning to stir in the shadows. Peter’s property was a tranquil place, one sufficiently secluded that no one would be observed. It was too early for them to embark on Alex’s shopping mission and Donovan had assured her that this wouldn’t take long.

  Rafferty sensed that it was important. More important maybe than any of them guessed. Without Erik’s advice, he couldn’t be sure, so he’d follow his instincts.

  Rafferty chose a spot with a lot of space around it. He wasn’t entirely sure what to expect, but he was listening. Quinn carried the shovel and began to dig where Rafferty pointed.

  Back toward the house, a dozen feet underground, the force began to stir. The others didn’t notice, but Rafferty felt the movement. The earth parted for its captive, letting it chart a course toward them.

  Rafferty trusted the earth in her wisdom.

  Was it Donovan’s firestorm that attracted this unknown?

  Or the Dragon’s Tooth itself?

  Rafferty believed it was the firestorm, glowing with greater heat again now that Donovan and Alex stood beside each other. They looked radiant, outlined in brilliant orange that turned to bright yellow where they were closest to each other. When Rafferty looked into the glow, he saw a flurry of sparks.

  The digger drew nearer.

  Rafferty let himself shimmer on the cusp of change, ready for anything. “Deeper,” he insisted when Quinn hesitated.

  Donovan, who knew Rafferty better than any, glanced up at the tone of Rafferty’s voice. His gaze danced over the older Pyr and Rafferty knew Donovan had discerned the sign of his pending shift.

  The earth rippled as the digger drew steadily closer.

  Donovan inhaled slowly and scanned the clearing. He seemed to catch a whiff of something because he eased closer to Alex. Flames danced between them as his eyes began to glitter.

  “Deeper,” Rafferty intoned.

  Quinn looked up, even as he followed the older Pyr’s bidding. He sank the spade into the soil, lifting a rich layer of dark earth. Rafferty knew what Quinn saw, because his eyes gleamed and his silhouette glimmered.

  They were all ready.

  Sara looked at the three of them with rising alarm. “What’s wrong? What’s happening?” she had time to ask before the earth ruptured beneath their feet.

  Chapter 17

  The surface of the earth broke open like a dark, jagged maw. Quinn’s spade fell aside as the digger erupted from its tunnel. It was in dragon form and Rafferty barely had time to note the emerald and copper hue of its scales. It pivoted and snatched at the Dragon’s Tooth on Donovan’s palm with bared teeth and claws.

  “No!” Alex shouted, and grabbed the gem first.

  It lunged for Alex, but Donovan had already shifted shape. He blocked the shadow dragon’s passage, sheltering Alex behind him. He was all lapis lazuli and rage, larger and more potent than Rafferty had ever seen him. He exhaled dragonfire with impressive force, the flames such a bright yellow that they were almost white.

  The digger fell back and screamed. It fell, twitching, into the hole that Quinn had dug. Rafferty saw then that its scales were blackened from dragonfire, from a previous assault, and their brilliant hue had been dimmed.

  He knew only one copper and emerald dragon.

  Delaney.

  The dragon shifted back to human form, whimpering in pain. He looked ruined and dark, a shadow of the handsome man he had been. Rafferty was startled by the difference in Delaney.

  He stretched out a hand toward Alex and the pearl, his gesture hungry and desperate. Donovan blasted him again with dragonfire, flinging Alex farther behind him, and the digger recoiled.

  The man who had been Delaney bowed his head, laid his forehead on the ground, and shook.

  “You can feel the dragonfire now,” Donovan noted. “Yesterday, you felt nothing.” He eased closer to the fallen man, his manner cautious and puzzled.

  “Help me,” Delaney whispered, his words uneven.

  The Pyr stood and stared, all three of them in dragon form, all three of them uncertain what to do.

  “He’s hurt,” Sara said crisply. “It’s Delaney, but he’s been damaged somehow.”

  At the sound of his old name, Rafferty saw hope spark in the stranger’s eyes. There was a light there. It was a very small light, but it wasn’t extinguished.

  He wasn’t lost yet.

  “He’s been changed into one of those shadow dragons, against his will,” Alex said, and there was compassion in her tone. “He tried to get the pearl before. He tore it loose from Donovan’s chest.”

  “I’ll kill him if he tries to hurt you,” Donovan said with heat. “I couldn’t yesterday, but I’ll do it now.”

  “But he couldn’t feel pain yesterday,” Alex reminded Donovan. “Maybe he’s healing.”

  “The firestorm . . .” Delaney began to shake his head and mutter the two words over and over again. He trembled and it was difficult for Rafferty to be afraid of what he had become.

  Then Delaney reached out a hand to Alex.

  “Stay back!” Donovan raged, but Alex leaned past him to look.

  “You were Delaney.” Her voice was soft. “What are you now?”

  Delaney, still on his knees, shook his head mutely as if powerless to comprehend what had happened to him. Rafferty didn’t think he would speak, but was surprised.

  “Lost,” Delaney whispered, sounding on the verge of tears. “Lost in darkness.” He trembled again and couldn’t stop shaking his head. “It goes on forever. Except here.” He raised his head and stretched out his hand as Donovan shielded Alex again.

  “Let me touch him,” she urged, and pushed Donovan’s claw aside.

  The spark of the firestorm leapt between them.

  Delaney gasped in wonder. Rafferty saw the hunger in his expression, a yearning that far exceeded Rafferty’s own. Delaney reached for the spark as if he couldn’t do otherwise. In the same moment Rafferty saw an answering light leap in Delaney’s eyes.

  “Your firestorm,” Delaney said with awe, and his shoulders shook as he began to weep. He stared at Donovan, the tears tracing tracks on his cheeks as he remained on his knees. “Help me, Donovan. Light my way back.”

  The old Donovan would have destroyed such a creature, such an abomination of all the Pyr knew to be right. Rafferty braced himself to intervene, but he felt the change in the warrior he had tutored.

  And he was glad. Rafferty knew the moment that Donovan allowed compassion in his heart, that he let sympathy temper his power to mete justice. He knew the moment that Donovan accepted the threat in order to try to heal his brother.

  The transformation was occurring. The Wizard was working her alchemy. Rafferty dared to hope for their collective future.

  He swallowed the lump in his throat and watched with pride. Donovan changed shape with his usual haste. He never lingered when his decision was made. He never avoided a dark task if he knew it had to be done.
Rafferty had always admired his resolve.

  Donovan stepped forward and bent to catch Delaney in an embrace. He lifted his brother to his feet and held him tightly. Delaney could not stand well, but he hung on to Donovan’s shoulders.

  As if his brother were his lifeline.

  Rafferty knew that Donovan was.

  The pair stared into each other’s eyes for a moment and Rafferty knew that Donovan sought some evidence that the brother he had loved was yet in residence.

  Rafferty could feel the conflict within Delaney, the battle for ascendancy between his own goodness and the wickedness that the Slayers had implanted within him. Could the firestorm truly destroy the darkness completely? Or would there always remain residue of what Delaney had endured? Could the battle for supremacy within Delaney destroy him?

  Rafferty didn’t know. This evil was all new to him, and he would have been happier without its addition.

  If anyone could pull Delaney back to the light, it was Donovan.

  If anyone could complete Delaney’s healing, it would be Sloane.

  Even with that confidence, Rafferty still dreaded the unknown.

  Delaney raised his left hand. “Remember?” he whispered, and Donovan set his right hand against Delaney’s. Their fingers locked and interlaced, Delaney clinging to Donovan’s strength.

  Donovan turned to Alex. “Give me your hand.”

  She came to his side without hesitation, his bold Wizard and catalyst for change, and locked her fingers over his. Delaney stared with fascination at the flame that sparked between their hands, then closed his eyes as if basking in its warmth. It burned hot and furious, a blaze that Rafferty couldn’t even look upon.

  “The firestorm,” Delaney whispered. The golden light caressed his features, making him look whole and healed even before he was.

  Without a word, Alex and Donovan touched their entangled hands to Delaney’s chest. Delaney tipped back his head with a moan that could have been pleasure or pain. He looked to be reveling in the heat that surged through him, welcoming it as it scorched the wickedness that had been implanted within him. A halo of light emanated from that point of contact and Rafferty felt the Great Wyvern’s spark being coaxed to burn hotter.

  Could the darkness be eliminated from Delaney? Rafferty prayed that it could. He had to believe that it could— he didn’t imagine that it would be dispatched easily.

  As the light brightened, Rafferty felt the presence of divinity.

  He certainly knew when he saw the work of the Great Wyvern being done. He caught a flash of white in the surrounding trees and thought he had seen Sophie, but by the time he turned to look, if she had been there, she was gone.

  “The spark of the Great Wyvern was yet within him,” Rafferty said when the light faded to a glow. “It is said that no conjurer can extinguish the light in a heart that is good, that no Pyr can be turned Slayer against his will.”

  Rafferty didn’t mention his fear that the shadow might not be easily dispelled. He would leave that to Sloane.

  “And it’s true,” Alex said, leaning her cheek on Donovan’s shoulder. He cast her a smile as Delaney leaned against his chest.

  It was time for Rafferty to confess some of what he knew. “The Warrior has forged the first weapon of his arsenal,” he said.

  “But how is that a weapon?” Sara asked.

  “A true warrior does not simply mete out death and destruction. He must show compassion. He must also heal— otherwise, he is a monster and a threat to all.” Rafferty smiled at Donovan. “You have tried to heal with your firestorm. That’s a potent weapon against Slayer evil.”

  “Elements four disguise weapons three,” Alex repeated from the verse. “What are the others?”

  “We’ll know when we see them,” Rafferty said, preferring to be enigmatic. “Fire stands accounted for.”

  Donovan smiled down at his brother, sliding his fingers into his hair with affection. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you were attacked. I’m sorry I didn’t defend you.”

  Delaney shook his head. “There is no debt between us, Donovan. You have been father, mentor, and cousin, more than I would have had otherwise.”

  “Not cousin,” Donovan said quietly.

  Delaney lifted his head, a question in his eyes.

  “Brother,” Donovan said with conviction.

  The two smiled at each other, recognizing a truth that both must have suspected on some level. The sun slipped over the horizon. They all turned as one to watch the blaze of rosy light, and Rafferty wondered whether he was the only one to see the Great Wyvern’s divine spark even in the sunrise.

  “The pearl,” he said then, holding out his hand for the gem. “We have not the time to linger here. There is work to be done.”

  They worked on the Green Machine all day Tuesday and well into the night. The Pyr were amazing to Alex. They shopped like fiends, fetching everything on her parts list in record time. They worked tirelessly and worked so well together that she was sure they could read one another’s thoughts. No matter what she asked of them, the Pyr managed to do it.

  She was starting to believe that they could save the world.

  Even though Alex knew there was one big challenge ahead, she refused to admit defeat. She kept thinking about alternative solutions even as they assembled what they could.

  She could never have accomplished so much so quickly alone. The three men worked on the car, moving parts, joining parts, discarding parts. No one talked about Erik and Sloane’s absence—or if they did, they did it in old-speak— and Alex assumed there was other Pyr business to be managed in the world.

  Under Alex’s direction—and with Mark’s notes—they modified the engine, installed a new saltwater tank, converted an amplifier into a radio frequency generator. Sara brought food at regular intervals, as well as water and coffee. Alex had no doubt that Oscar was helping her with the menu planning.

  As the pieces came together, Alex began to worry about the last obstacle confronting the Green Machine. They still had more than twenty-four hours to conquer it, and she had a feeling the Pyr would find a solution. She felt so optimistic that Alex was afraid to think about what else could go wrong.

  She would have chosen any other alternative than what did.

  Jared Madison kicked at his running shoes.

  His mother refused to change his Halloween costume. He didn’t want to be Spiderman anymore, even though his costume was all ready to go. He had wanted to be Spiderman more than anything else.

  Until last night.

  Until he had seen a real live dragon on the roof.

  It had been a beautiful dragon, so shiny and powerful and magic, and Jared knew it was still up there. No one else had seen it and no one believed him. No one had seen it today when he had pointed to the roof, but he was sure the dragon hid behind the chimney.

  He wanted to be just like it, big and beautiful and strong and magic. But his mother said it was too late to change his costume, that he had wanted to be Spiderman and he was going to be Spiderman this year, and next year he could be a dragon.

  Jared wanted to be a dragon now.

  He’d refused to eat spaghetti for dinner because he was quite sure that dragons didn’t eat pasta. He would be a dragon and he would eat . . . roast chicken. With french fries. Jared was sure that was what dragons ate, and even his mother’s insistence that Spiderman ate spaghetti hadn’t been good enough.

  He’d been sent to his room to think about eating his spaghetti.

  So, he kicked his running shoes around his bedroom and sulked. He didn’t want to color and he didn’t want to play computer games and he really didn’t want to talk to his stupidhead sister. He didn’t want to eat spaghetti, even if he was kind of hungry.

  He looked out the window. It was getting dark, exactly the right time to be seeing a dragon. He had seen one at this time the night before. He went to the window and pressed his nose against the glass to look into the backyard.

  Sure eno
ugh, there was a dragon out there.

  A different dragon, but a dragon all the same.

  This one was green, swirly green, whereas the other one had been green and purple and gold. Jared thought the first dragon had looked more magic. This one waved and beckoned to him instead of looking surprised like the first one.

  Maybe Jared couldn’t be a dragon, but he could be with one. That might just be magic enough.

  He held up a finger to the dragon, telling him not to leave. The dragon nodded and Jared grabbed his running shoes. He crept down the stairs, hearing his mother and sister in the kitchen, his father in his library on the phone. Jared silently opened the front door. He shut it behind him, pulled on his shoes, then ran around the back of the house to find the dragon.

  He didn’t have to look far.

  The dragon was waiting for him.

  It was dark on Tuesday night when the Pyr had assembled all that they could, and Alex still didn’t know how they’d solve the last big problem. She was so tired that she was afraid she was missing something obvious.

  They were all marked with oil and grease, all tired and sweaty, but too stubborn to stop. Alex sat down with a sigh. The others looked to her expectantly, waiting for direction.

  “The last bit is tough,” she admitted. “And I still can’t think of how we can get around it.”

  “Tell us,” Donovan said.

  Alex indicated the schematics and the Pyr leaned closer. “Mark had new head gaskets machined for both prototypes. The different shape made the engine run more smoothly and more powerfully.”

  “Like a Hemi,” Rafferty said, eying the diagram.

  “It’s not quite round,” Alex said. “It was a custom shape. It took weeks to have it made by the machine shop.”

  “Maybe the engine will run okay with the head gaskets it has,” Sara suggested.

  Alex frowned and shook her head. “We needed this change to make the engine feasible. Otherwise, the difference between what it costs to generate the radio frequency and the power the engine creates isn’t enough to make it worth manufacturing.”

  “Quinn?” Donovan asked. Alex didn’t understand his meaning, but he looked at the other Pyr expectantly.