Born Into Fire (10 page)

Arms’ length from the marver, she glimpsed blond hair an instant before the man shot from behind the crucible furnace, headed toward the door. Tight jeans and a leather jacket accentuated the menace of his lean, six-foot-two-inch frame.

Kenna screamed, and her fingers burned. Flames sprang up and raced along her arms toward her chest. Terror ripped through her. She was burning up.
Erion
! How did she stop the fire? What should she do? She jerked her gaze to the shelves for something to throw at the intruder. The heat abruptly focused into a tightening orb.

Heat singed her fingertips as a ball of fire combusted to life in her right hand. Adrenaline rocketed through her. She cried out, flinging the fire from her hand. The blazing orb arced across the space as the heat surged hotter. Oh God, she had weapons.
She
was the weapon! What else hadn’t Erion told her?

“Stay back,” she shouted as another ball of fire formed in her hand. Oh hell, she held fire, but what to do with it? “Stay back or…or else.”

Another man leaped from behind the annealing furnace. “Kenna!”

She jerked in his direction. On instinct, she hurled the sphere of fire. Flames exploded on the concrete between them. Emerald green eyes glinted behind the wall of fire an instant before he twisted aside, shielding his eyes with a hand.

He backed away from the blaze. “We’re here to help!”

Another ball of fire rose in her palm.
Help
? “Who are you?”

A mighty animal roar sounded near the door. Kenna spun toward the sound. She stumbled back a step. The magical beast of her dreams stood where the leather-wearing Adonis had been an instant ago. She stared at the apparition in all its brilliant colors. From its feathered head to a tail that thinned to twine-like thickness with half a dozen long feathers at the tip, the dragon towered over her.

Drakaura.

As if in answer to her thoughts, the creature spread its eight-foot feathered wings and roared again. Kenna fought dizzying blackness. His body went taut, wings rigid as stone while a filmy wall of white light shot from his chest and surrounded the wall of fire. The flames died with barely a whimper.

The blaze in her palm pulsed. His wings fluttered. Kenna tensed, but he dropped his wings and tucked them along his feathery, scaled sides.

“Ormond,” the man admonished.

The dragon blinked large green eyes, then shrank and shifted back into human form.

The room spun. Pressure pounded at her temples. Her knees buckled, and she dropped to the concrete floor, palms breaking the fall and scraping on rough concrete.

“Who—what—are you?”

Ormond stepped forward, and her core warmed in unison with another pulse from the fireball in her palm as she shoved up onto shaky legs.

He halted and gave a slow nod. “Yes. We are Drakaura.”

The murmured words held an understanding that struck a chord deep inside her.

“Kenna,” the other man said.

She shot the dragon man a warning look, then shifted her attention back.

“The fire.” He nodded at her palm.

Kenna glanced at the flame. She took a deep cleansing breath and willed the fire away. The flickering heat seemed to melt back into her palm, and the glow dimmed to a barely banked amber glow, as if she’d turned off the gas valve on her furnace. A strange excitement quivered in her stomach. Was controlling the fire that easy?

“Forgive us,” he said.

She jerked from staring at her palm and focused on the man again.

“When you left your workshop, we had no idea you would return so soon.”

Anger hit like a bucket of ice water. “Who the hell are you, and what are you doing in my garage? This is my house!”

“Calm down,” he said. “This is an investigation into the occurrences here today.”

“Investigation?”
Occurrences
? Had they watched her and Erion fuck? She narrowed her eyes. “Who—” She cast a glance at the Drakaura. Despite the anger, she couldn’t keep emotion from choking her words. “How are you real?”

“We need to know what happened here,” he said.

She gave a harsh laugh. “
I
was here, and I don’t know what happened.”

“There are greater forces than us at work here,” the dragon man said.

She snapped her gaze to him. “How do I know of you? You’re a dream. I dreamed of you as a child.”

His expression remained impassive. “I am one of many.”

“The Fire Element could return any minute,” the man interjected. “You must tell us everything.”

Kenna frowned. “Fire Element—you mean Aiden. He’s—” She halted, her insides twisting. Was her part in the murder of another human being something she wanted to admit to complete strangers—to dragons? “What are you doing in my home?” she demanded.

“Hunting the Fire Element.”

“Hunting?”

“Yes.”

“Well, you’re too late. He’s gone.” She glanced at the dragon man, then looked back at the man and pinned him with a hard stare. “And what gives you the right to hunt people?”

“We are sentinels. Our purpose is to deal with criminals.”

“Like some sort of supernatural police?”

“We are descendants of the Watchtower Lords, the great watchers. Today, we are simple sentinels.”

“Sentinels? Shouldn’t you be here to protect me then?” She studied him. “Look around. I don’t know anything about this, and I’m tired of guessing. You must know a lot more than I do.” She raised her hand to indicate the shambles of her garage. “You tell me what’s happening.”

His gaze sharpened. “We know you merged with the Air Element.”

Kenna flushed.
They had been watching
. A flush of scorching heat surged through her. “How dare you invade my privacy? Get out!”

“Enough,” the dragon man roared, and Kenna took a startled step backward. “The battle you fought with Aiden is just the beginning,” he said. “Now that your element has emerged, the Fire Element will become desperate. When he returns, he will claim you.”

“Claim me? No one claims me.” The unexpected realization that Erion could claim her and she wouldn’t fight him took her breath.

Ormond gave a condescending laugh. “She is completely ignorant, Wyvern. The Fire Element will claim her. We cannot wait.”

“Can’t wait for what?” Kenna blurted. “What the hell does that mean?”

“When in element form, you are energy,” Wyvern said. “Until you learn how to control that energy, you are vulnerable, and that energy—your power—can be enslaved.”

“Why didn’t you intervene? He was here for the taking.”

Wyvern shrugged. “We hoped you would kill Aiden.”

She opened her mouth to deny being a killer, but guilt stabbed soul-deep. “You son of a bitch. What the hell is wrong with you?” What kind of lunatics inhabited this world she’d been thrown into? “What police force hopes innocent bystanders will kill their criminals for them?”

“He will kill you.”

“Then protect me,” she snapped.

Wyvern shook his head impatiently. “We aren’t here to guard you. We protect the world
from
your kind.”

“
My
kind? No one has to be protected from me.”

“No?”

She ignored the heat that pulsed in her. “No.”

“Only moments ago you were ready to kill me and Ormond.”

“You broke into my home, and he”—Kenna jabbed a finger in the dragon man’s direction—”scared the shit out of me! He’s Drakaura. I’ve carried his image in my mind for as long as I can remember. How would you feel if Santa Claus actually came down your chimney?”

Wyvern gave a slow, implacable shake of his head that made her want to singe his eyebrows. “Ormond was only trying to escape. If you had hit him with your fire, you would have killed him.”

“I could have killed you
both
,” she retorted with false bravado, “but I threw the fire on the floor instead.” Not that she’d aimed her attack. The fireball could have landed anywhere as she tried to fling it from her hand. “As for Aiden, you’ll have to figure out for yourself what happened. I won’t help you.”

“He will claim you…or kill you,” Wyvern said.

“I’ll take my chances.”

“The Fire Element will destroy anything or anyone to attain that which he desires,” Ormond said. “What of your art and your bond with the Air Element?”

“You know nothing of our bond,” she snarled. “You’re wasting your time. What kind of police—” Kenna halted. “What the hell are you?”

“We are Drakaura,” Wyvern said.

She narrowed her eyes. “That’s a name.
What
are you?”

A corner of his mouth lifted, and Kenna wasn’t sure if it was pity or condescension. She didn’t like these Drakaura.

“How would you explain to a planet of cats what humans are?” he asked. Before she could reply that she didn’t give a damn, he went on. “Like you, we live as humans. But, instead of having the ability to shift into element form as you do, we become dragons. In dragon form we exert power over Elements.”

Dread began to seep through her. “What sort of power?”

“We have the ability to counter your element. You saw how Ormond extinguished your fire. It is our destiny to defeat Elements.”

“Defeat Elements?”

Wyvern frowned. “Are you all right?”

“Not if you plan on killing me.”

He looked stunned. “We have no authority to kill you. You have not transgressed. Aiden is the transgressor. He must be destroyed.”

“What has he done?”

“He decimated a village in Scotland.”

“A whole village?” She looked from Wyvern to Ormond. “Impossible. A murder spree that large would be international news.”

“Today, yes. But this village was destroyed one hundred and ninety years ago.”

“Almost two hundred years? How old is he?” Her mind spun. How old was Erion?

“Our earliest report on Aiden was two hundred and fifty years ago.”

“Kenna?”

She whirled at the sound of Mrs. Patrick’s voice.

The old woman stood in the doorway, staring. “What happened?” She stepped into the garage. “I knew it. I’ve always said those beasts were a hazard.”

Kenna startled, then realized Mrs. Patrick referred to the furnaces.

“You could’ve burned down the neighborhood.” The old busybody pinned Wyvern with a glare. Kenna tensed when she shifted her focus to Ormond. “Tsk. Tsk,” she clucked. “A different man every hour.”

“We’d better get going, Kenna,” Wyvern said. “Be sure to call that professional locksmith as we suggested.”

She didn’t need a locksmith to keep anyone out. She’d needed Erion to stay, “I’ll do that.”

“We’ll file a report and see if we can track down the people who did this.”

“Vandals?” Mrs. Patrick repeated.

Wyvern strode to her side. “That’s right. Someone took a blowtorch to Kenna’s glass.”

Mrs. Patrick looked around the workshop as if seeing it with new eyes. “Oh, yes. How terrible.” Her gaze stopped on Kenna, brow furrowed in distaste. “It looks as if they took a blowtorch to your hair as well.”

“Oh, this.” Dammit. She’d forgotten about her hair. Kenna lifted a lock. “I’m just experimenting with color.”

“Can we escort you home?” Wyvern asked Mrs. Patrick. “With the perpetrator on the loose, we can’t be too careful.”

“Oh, yes,” she said with a nervous shake of her head. “Kenna, you do as these detectives say and get a proper lock on this door.” Mrs. Patrick looked up at Wyvern. “I worry about her, a young woman alone in that big house.”

Ormond flanked Mrs. Patrick’s right. He cast Kenna a glance. “We worry about her, too.”

Kenna started forward, then stopped. She wanted them to leave, yet the idea of being alone frightened her. “I—”

“Yes, Kenna,” Wyvern said, “we’ll check on you later.”

She gave a stiff nod. Not that she needed their protection because Aiden was dead. She didn’t need them. She didn’t need anyone. Pain knifed through her heart. Most of all, she didn’t want to need Erion. She’d keep telling herself that until she believed it.

Chapter Ten

The soft chime of the doorbell jarred Kenna from the turkey sandwich she’d been staring at for the last half hour. She jerked her gaze to the Copper Harbor wall clock hanging over the kitchen bay window: five-thirty. She wasn’t expecting anyone. Her stomach twisted. She hadn’t been expecting anyone when Erion blew into her room—her bed—in the early hours of the morning either. Or Aiden with his demented machinations. Erion left her, and Aiden was dead. Neither would be standing outside her front door, and—Kenna swallowed against a dry throat—Erion had proven he wouldn’t bother knocking.

This newest surprise visitor was probably Mrs. Patrick come to check on her after the
break-in
. A quiver radiated through Kenna. She couldn’t chance seeing anyone. Mrs. Patrick had commented on the copper streaks that stood out against Kenna’s natural auburn color. Someone else, someone more intuitive, more observant, someone who knew her, would
know
the difference went beyond the new hair color. The doorbell rang again.

Kenna jumped. She shoved the chair back, rose, and took three steps to the window. She inched open the curtain and scanned the driveway and curb in front. Only her gray sedan sat in the driveway. Dammit, anyone standing at the front door wasn’t visible from the window. Had to be Mrs. Patrick. She would go away.

Kenna returned to the table and eased into the seat. She had to cancel the show at Michael Laird’s gallery. Her chest tightened. Once word spread of the cancellation, no other gallery would take a chance on a diva who had bowed out of her first show. Her career was over.

But Erion had a career. Surely she could live a normal life like he did? Damn him. For all she knew, he’d spent the last thousand years learning how to be
normal
. Still, was it possible she could live as she had before? She imagined Michael’s gallery in flames, dozens of people trapped inside while she consumed the building
and them
with her flames.