Blazed (3 page)

Donovan screamed out the first line. The first light turned red.

A burst of fire shot from center stage, glowing behind the lead singer, casting him as a black dancing figure.

“Nice,” Ty said beside her.

Wrapped up in the pyro events, she’d almost forgotten his presence. She tried once more to ignore him as the lights on the panel turned red one by one, and flames shot up around the stage on cue.

The concert went on with her and Ty staying in their seats, not talking. She fought the urge to touch him, fearing the loss of control once more. She was the band’s pyro. She needed to make sure everything continued as planned.

As the band began their last number, the panel on the far wall glowed bright with the many lights controlling the finale.

Icy shivers crawled down her spine as someone’s gaze burned the back of her neck. Bree sat up, searching the darkness. Her watcher was back. A low, irritating hum buzzed in her ears. From onstage, the first spray of fire arced across the stage. The hum grew louder, blocking the music of the band. The second spray of fire blasted above the stage.

Then, screaming pierced the humming.

Onstage, Donovan stumbled, spinning to face the back. He jerked like a puppet losing its strings as he backpedaled to the front of the stage. Bree jumped to her feet, racing for the stage.

Where was security? Fire blazed near the backup singers, surrounding three young women with a circle of flames. Bree reached the edge and leapt, almost crashing on the stage in a half-crouch.

Ty landed next to her, upright, already running for the singers. Bree followed.

Flames licked along the wooden stage, spreading in both directions, creeping out while drawing closer to the huddled, crying and screaming girls. Ty jumped over the ring of fire as if it didn’t exist. Shock and awe coursed through her. He wasn’t afraid of fire. Well, neither was she.

Bree jumped, heat scorching her legs and arms. She took it in, devouring it. Energy coursed through her as she called her magic to eat the fire.

Ty grabbed two of the singers and dashed from the flaming circle.

Bree grabbed Kari by her waist, easily lifting the girl. “Close your eyes and hold on tight.”

Kari grabbed her so hard it cut off Bree’s ability to breathe. The power rushing through her blood from the flames surrounding her held the pain at bay.

Holding the girl, Bree took a running start, leaping above the flames higher than humanly possible. Reaching the edge of the stage where the other two girls clung to Ty, Bree realized the crowd had dissolved into all out pandemonium.

On the stage, Donovan ran in circles screaming shrilly for help, though he was in no danger. The idiot.

“Take them,” Ty stated. “I have a job to do.” He pushed the other two singers unceremoniously at Bree before disappearing into the crowd.

Ricky, the drummer, hurried to Kari’s side, clutching her protectively and looking around as if in a daze. “What happened, Bree?”

“I don’t know. Take the girls -- I need to help get this fire out.” She spun and headed to the blaze growing at the back of the stage. Making sure no one was paying attention, Bree took a deep breath.

Above her a piercing screech rang out. Bree stumbled. High in the dark night sky, as if in a dance, two enormous dragons circled in the air. The larger one, pure white scales shimmering in the moonlight, whipped a long spiked tail at the other. The smaller dragon was a dark gray green, overlaid with dingy, oily smoke.

Bree’s heart stuttered as she took in the sight.

Sure, Ty had said he was dragon. Staring at the beautiful white creature above her, she knew with certainty it was him.

Could only be him.

Chapter Three

Ty swooped through the air, currents pushing him higher above the stadium. The Other, a dragon of dark magic, bellowed as it dove, scraping claws along one of Ty’s unprotected wings.

He roared in fury, wanting to breathe fire at the creature, but the move was too dangerous with all the people beneath them. Twisting in the air, Ty slammed the spikes at the end of his tail against the creature’s side. It screamed in pain.

Not pain.

Green eyes wide, the Other opened its mouth and blew evil black flames.

Ty bucked, using the air currents to dodge the powerful, debilitating fire. Teeth nipped his leg. He raked claws down the dragon’s side, then flapped his wings, lifting above the creature.

Folding his wings, Ty dove through the air. He crashed into the Other, pushing it away from the stadium.

It shrieked, trying to get around him and return to the chaos that was the concert. Ty dove, twisting and clawing, trying to keep those below safe.

* * *

Bree stood frozen as the large white dragon pushed the other one further from the stadium. Someone shouted her name, bringing her back to the stage. The flames were drawing closer.

Raising her hands, she concentrated on her inner being. Slowly, her vision changed, sharpening her focus. The air became a colorful array of reds, yellows and oranges. Heat and fire.

Taking a step closer, Bree drew the colors into herself. The heat burned along her skin, her arms, slipping beneath her clothes and moving over her chest, stomach and legs.

But it felt good, right.

Adrenaline rushed as power flowed into her body. She felt as if she might burst, grow wings and fly with the dragons fighting above.

* * *

Ty drove the Other further from the stadium, then reared back, preparing to blast the unnatural thing from the sky.

As he bellowed at the creature, it stopped moving and plummeted toward the barren desert far below.

Ty tucked his wings close and dove after it. As the shadows passed, the Other disappeared.

Not bothering to search for the thing, probably called back by the evil mage who’d summoned it, Ty put on a burst of speed, hurtling through the air back to the stadium.

Back to Bree.

Bree, who had to be safe.

She just had to be.

* * *

Directly in front of Bree, the fire flared, flames growing higher, which shouldn’t be possible. A tall, hooded figure strode into the flames, unconcerned.

Another nymph? Here? Now?

The power radiating from the figure didn’t feel like her own. It was darker, somehow, sending a slimy, icy coating of sweat breaking out over her face.

“You,” the figure whispered.

Bree couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman, but she didn’t want to stick around long enough to find out, either.

Slowly, she backed away. The fire followed, as did the black cloaked person walking through it untouched.

Someone bumped her from behind. Bree reeled, stumbling forward.

“Bree!” Ty called.

As she turned, Bree caught sight of a stricken Ty hurrying her way, and a bemused, apologetic Donovan slinking from sight.

When she spun back to the fire, the figure was gone. Nothing seemed out of place. Once more, she concentrated on her magic.

The flames licking across the stage dimmed, darkening as they grew smaller.

It crept closer, and she allowed the fire to crawl over her feet. It disappeared as she drew it deep inside, fueling her magic.

Soon, the blaze was dampened to manageable proportions. People with water and fire extinguishers gathered, putting out the last smoldering areas.

Flooded with power, Bree wanted to take a couple laps around the building. But as firemen arrived and began assessing the scene, she was hustled to the first row of seats and asked to wait for the investigator to show up.

Bree fidgeted, unable to sit still. She was the pyro. The fire effects were her responsibility.

But she didn’t make mistakes.

Which meant someone had made one for her.

* * *

“You can’t be here, buddy.”

Ty turned to the heavily geared fireman, slipping his wallet from the back pocket of his sooty jeans. He flipped it open and held out the badge.

It looked like a US Marshal’s badge. No one would ever take a second glance -- unless they were creatures who knew of the Magic Council. “Wow, you guys are fast. Our investigator isn’t even here yet. But what’s a Marshal doing at a fire scene?”

Ty let his eyelids drift partly closed and smiled tightly. The man gave a sharp nod before continuing around the stage, searching for any hint of remaining embers.

Ty watched the men work, trying to keep an eye on the band members huddled near the doorway to the dressing rooms. When he realized Bree wasn’t among them, a sharp clamp of panic tightened around his ribs. Then he found her, huddled, shaking, in the front row of seats. Hands clasped in her lap, fingers twisting, she continually glanced up at the stage, then turned to watch the crowds still milling around the stadium.

Slowly, the concert-goers were replaced by people in uniforms and business suits.

Ty tapped his foot as he waited.

Not five minutes later, his sister came hurrying toward him, her face pale, eyes red-rimmed with magic. Behind her, Scott tried to keep up with the whirlwind. It didn’t help he was lugging Calla’s twenty-pound work bag. Another, older man followed.

Reaching him, Calla threw herself into his arms, hugging his waist tightly. “You’re lucky you’re safe or I’d have to hurt you.”

Ty laughed. “Fire can’t hurt me, lovey.”

“I don’t care,” she whispered against his chest.

Scott caught up, a wry expression lighting his face. Ty threw the man a “help me” look and finally the two of them managed to pry Calla away.

The older man reached Scott. “Well, now. Another Dragos I ’spect?”

Scott laughed. “Yup. They’re all over the place.” He turned to Ty. “This is Fred -- a family friend from Jasper.”

Ty nodded, shaking the old man’s hand. As they touched, a spark of electricity raced up his arm. Not bothering to comment or question it, Ty said, “I’ve heard a lot about you from Calla.”

The old man beamed, his wrinkled face making him look like a hound dog who’d just gotten a treat. Calla patted the old man’s arm then headed toward the stage.

“She’s a good girl,” Fred commented as she waddled away.

“Yup.” Ty watched the old man, thinking of some of his sister’s comments.

He was an enigma. Calla, usually able to spot a mystical being from a mile away, still hadn’t figured this old man out. It was interesting.

Scott maneuvered Calla toward the fire chief nearby. She grabbed a notebook and a pen from the bag slung over Scott’s shoulder, faced the chief and started peppering him with questions.

With Calla settled into her role, Ty turned his gaze to Bree. “Excuse me. There’s someone I need to see to,” he said.

Fred smiled. “Ayup. I ’spect so.”

Wondering what the old man had meant, Ty headed for Bree’s side, keeping the band in his view. There was no telling if the master or his minions would try a grab in this melee.

“How are you?” he asked, giving her a quick once-over.

“How do you think I am? I know how these people work. They’ll find me at fault. I don’t make mistakes.”

Ty hunkered down beside her. Her knee slid an inch closer, and he scooted over to lean against her leg. “I signed off on everything. You don’t think they’ll assign some of the blame to me?”

Bree snorted, her eyes narrowing. “The son of Dragos Pyrotechnics? A local company? Hell no.” A shudder shook her body.

Taking her hand, Ty stood and waved Calla over. As she waddled closer, Bree’s eyes widened.

“Calla, I’d like to introduce you to Bree Jones, the band’s pyro,” Ty said, tugging Bree to her feet.

Calla’s swift glance took in their clasped hands, and a soft smile drifted over her lips.

Ty waved to his sister. “Bree, this is the arson investigator, Calla Dragos O’Neil.”

Bree stiffened, glaring daggers at them both. “Thank you for proving my point.”

Calla blinked, looking to him for explanation.

“Bree thinks since she’s not a local we’re going to pin this on her.”

Staring at Bree, Calla’s eyes softened. “Honey, don’t worry. I don’t
pin
anything on anyone. And I can pretty much guarantee you’re not at fault here. My little brother wouldn’t pass off on shoddy work.”

The woman’s forceful personality hit Bree, as did the truth of her words. For some reason, Bree immediately liked, and trusted, her.

“He’s your
little
brother?” Considering Ty was a bit taller than her own six feet, and almost half a foot taller than the woman in front of her, the term was amusing as hell.

“Yup. Now, don’t you worry. The stage is almost cleared for me. I’ll let you know my findings as soon as possible, all right?” Calla said. “Ty, I need to talk to you for a minute.” She turned and headed closer to the stage.

With an embarrassed shrug, he followed her.

Bree missed the warm contact of his hand, which was strange. She wasn’t one to rely on others for comfort. She’d learned better. Other people always let you down.

Rick called her from the area leading to backstage. Bree didn’t care she’d been told to stay near the seats. She hurried over to the huddle of band members.

As she passed near the stage, she overheard Calla talking to Ty. “…know who was here?” she asked.

“The master didn’t show that I could tell, just his dragon puppet.”

Their words drifted away as the band swarmed around Bree. She wanted nothing more than to stomp over to Ty and Calla, demanding they tell her what was going on. This obviously wasn’t just an accidental fire.

Donovan pushed his way in front of her. “What did you do wrong?” he shouted.

Back stiffening, Bree calmly replied, “Not a damn thing.”

Bobby and Karl, both guitarists, grabbed his arms, pulling him away. Rick, still holding one of his drumsticks, took her arm. “Sorry.”

Bree shrugged. “It’s fine.”

“Any word yet? No one’s telling us anything.”

Bree pointed to Calla, now walking on the stage, staring at the floor and writing in her notebook. “She’s the investigator. We’ll see what she turns up.”

Rick shook his head, his basset hound face sadder than normal. “We ain’t gonna let no one blame this on you, girl.”

A blush of love for the older man crept into her chest. Her throat tightened, a lump making the word hard to say. “Thanks.”

His hand tightened on her arm. “Serious. They won’t blame you.”

She nodded at his kindness, but uncomfortable at the feelings stirring inside, she joked, “What’ll you do, show them your horns?”

His lined face suddenly seemed twenty years younger as his eyes flashed with amusement. “Us satyrs are pretty stubborn. Don’t you know that’s where goats got their hardheaded name?” His smile dimmed as he looked over at Calla. “So, what’s with all the brimystone dragons around?”

Bree glanced from Calla to the man following her, to Ty. “Are all three dragons?”

Kari slid up beside them, snaking her arm around Rick’s waist. The girl sniffed the air, her eyes widening. “I smell more than dragon. One of them is nymphy. Like you, Bree, but not like you.” She shuddered, only Rick’s grip keeping her from sliding to the floor. Her voice trembled. “I smell evil. Dark magic filling this place.”

“You sure, kitty cat?” Rick asked, using the nickname that never failed to draw a smile from Kari.

Until now.

The cougar shapeshifter continued to shudder in Rick’s arms. “I want to leave. I’m scared.”

Considering Bree had seen the young girl take on a group of bikers, laughing the entire time, and come out on top, the sight of the girl frightened struck a nervous chord.

She turned to glare at Ty. “The Dragos pyro knows more than he’s let on. We need to get the information from him.”

Rick nodded Ty’s way. “Go for it, girlie. I want to get Kari out of here. We’ll be in my room.”

Bree gave the girl a pat on the shoulder as they left, then strode to Ty’s side.

Just as she opened her mouth to demand answers, Calla jumped from the stage, landing in front of them. Her fall, though, was controlled, as if the very air around her was floating her to the floor in spite of gravity.

“You shouldn’t do that in your condition,” the man, O’Neil, grumbled, still on the stage.

Calla smiled brightly up at him. “Why not? I know you’ll always catch me if I fall.”

Ignoring the confusing byplay, Bree tugged on Ty’s arm. “We need to talk. Now.”

Calla waited for the man to slide from the stage, then, arm in arm, they stepped up to Bree.