Destiny Kills (17 page)

He sighed, and thrust a hand through his hair. “My sister has gone missing, and my mom feels sure that she’s in some sort of trouble.”

“Is this a kin intuition thing?”

“She’s human, remember, so the kin intuition doesn’t apply. She just occasionally gets these feelings about things, and they mostly come true.”

“Then why the
hell
didn’t you tell me all this in the first place?” My voice was sharper than I’d intended, but damn it, he deserved it. If his sister was in trouble, he
should
have told me. “Why do such a botched job of stealing it?”

“Because we’re conditioned not talk about the clique or clique business. Besides, I had no idea what had happened to my brother, who you were, and whether I could trust you. Running with the ring just seemed easier at the time.”

“You could have just explained the situation, Trae.”

His gaze searched mine. “Would you have believed me? Especially considering you had no idea until our meeting that Egan even had siblings?”

“Honestly? I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe not when we’d first met, because I didn’t know you any better than you knew me. But later, yeah, I would have. Either way, stealing it wasn’t the answer.”

“So I discovered.”

This, I thought sourly, was a complete and utter shambles. And why? Because neither of us had trusted the other enough to just come out and explain things. But at least this was one mess that was easily fixed.

I swung around on my heel and marched back to the sea. I couldn’t change the delay I’d caused—a delay that might very well endanger his sister—but I could do this. I could summon the ring from the sea and give it back to him.

“Destiny, the car is—”

“I don’t care about the car. I’m getting the ring.”

“It’s nearly dawn—” he said.

“Which is the best time for this sort of magic.” I swung around and faced him. “I have enough blood on my hands already, Trae. I don’t want your sister’s on them as well. When I get the ring, I want you to go. Get the information you need, and go find your sister.”

“But—”

“Promise me,” I cut in sharply, “that you’ll take the ring and go.”

He hesitated, then said, “Okay. I promise.”

“Good. You might want to get some blankets from the car, though. This could be a bit of a wait.”

I turned back around and walked to the water. The waves hissed over my feet, welcoming me back, wanting me to go deeper, wanting me to play. I ignored them, wading out until the water was thigh deep. Once there, I stopped and waited for the dawn.

It stirred gradually through the darkness. Slivers of pink and gold began to breach the night, dousing the stars and lending a glory to the predawn darkness. The energy in the air gradually increased, becoming more and more frantic, reaching toward its crescendo as the slivers became a river that flooded the sky. As the beat of energy came to a peak, and the air came alive with the hum and power of a new day, I raised my left hand and held it palm up to the skies.

“To the Gods of the sea, I call on thee.”

The ritual words rode across the silence, holding the energy, shaping it, becoming a thing of beauty and command. The waters around me began to stir and swirl, and the rush of waves were momentarily lost against that gathering whirl. Droplets of water shot into the sky, sparkling like diamonds in the gathering brightness.

“To my brothers of deep, dark waters, and my sisters of the quick shallows, I call on thee.”

More energy touched the air, a deep, bass thrum that spoke of vast, cold places. It flooded through me, filling me, completing me, in a way no human touch ever would.

The droplets came together, becoming a water spout that glittered and spun and danced upon the rich, dark waters.

“Return the ring you’ve kept safe and unfound. Return it to me now from the dark and secret places.”

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the energy stirred, then leapt away. The turbulence stilled and the waves returned. I turned around and waded back up to the shoreline.

Trae was waiting, and there were blankets at his feet. “Now what?” he said, his fingers briefly touching my cheek, washing warmth across my skin.

“Now we wait.” I grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around me cocoon-like, then sat down. “What did you mean before, when you said you were conditioned not to talk about the clique?”

“Just that.” He picked up a blanket and wrapped it loosely around his shoulders, then sat down beside me. Even though we weren’t touching, his warmth flowed around me, heating the chill from my skin far swifter than the rising brightness of the day. “We are conditioned from the cradle not to talk about the clique. Every single day of our childhood we were told that those who talk about family business to outsiders will die. You hear it so often it becomes a part of your very nature.”

Disbelief surged, and I looked at him. “Surely they wouldn’t actually—”

“Not they.
Him.
The bastard we call king. And I’ve seen it done, many times. Our clique is a law unto itself in this matter—and no one, absolutely no one, dares to defy that law.” He looked at me, eyes glimmering in the growing light. “I have told you more about the clique than I have ever told anyone. But the training is still there, and it is very hard to break. Especially when it involves those that I love.”

“So you think your sister is in danger rather than just trouble?”

“I don’t know. But would you take the risk?”

“No.” I leaned a little closer to him, so that our shoulders touched. “Was she living at home with your mom before she disappeared?”

He snorted softly. “Most of us half breeds get out as quick as we can. We’re protected from the worst excesses of the clique until we reach sixteen, but after that it’s open season.”

I frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

“Let’s just say that young male air dragons tend to like testing their strength and their sexual prowess, and a lot of them aren’t particular about gender.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Air dragons are bisexual?”

“Mostly, no, but in our clique there aren’t a lot of breeding females. Hence the abundance of draman like myself. Those who can’t find human release often turn to each other.”

“But if there’s twelve other cliques, why don’t they just go elsewhere? Surely the female shortage doesn’t run through all the cliques?”

“I suspect it doesn’t, but air dragons are notoriously protective over what they class as ‘their own.’ It’s that whole not-sharing-the-loot mentality that was apparently prevalent in the early days.”

“So did any of these young dragons ever try their wily ways on you?”

Amusement glimmered briefly in his eyes. “Only one. I handed him back his balls on a platter and was never bothered after that.”

“Not surprising.”

“No. Mercy was pretty self-sufficient, as well, but she was attacked several times. Most of the time, I was there to stop it before it went too far, but once I was forced out—” He hesitated and shrugged. “She pretty much left when she hit sixteen. She came to San Francisco and lived with me while she finished school and studied journalism, then got an apartment with several friends.”

“If your mom’s so worried about her, why wouldn’t she go talk to the police?”

“Because talking to the police would be involving outsiders. And that would jeopardize my mother.”

“But she’s human, not dragon.”

“Yes, but she’s been employed by the clique since she was eighteen, and considers them her family. If she calls the cops, she’d lose that family—either by losing her life, or being thrown out of the clique.”

“Just how big is your clique?”

He hesitated. “There would be over a hundred and fifty, if you just counted dragons.”

“
That
many dragons cannot go unnoticed forever. Not in this day and age.”

“Ah, but they rarely take dragon form these days. Even the young are taught to fly in the early hours of dawn, when few humans are about.” He shrugged. “The cliques have thousands of years of practice melding into civilization while remaining apart. They might capture the odd individual, but they will never find more than that.”

I wasn’t so sure. Especially given the scientists now had dragons working for them.

“Your sister didn’t leave a contact number or a message with any of her friends?”

“She did leave a message with a friend saying she had a tip about a story, and was going to investigate it. That was weeks ago.”

“Why can’t
you
report her disappearance? I mean, you don’t give a damn about clique politics, and you have no position within the clique to lose.”

“But again, my mom has, and if I did report it, she would be punished for it.” He shrugged, seemingly accepting of the situation despite the surge of anger I could feel in him. “Besides, we don’t know where she actually went. Hard to track someone—or prove they’re missing—if they’ve already told you they’ll be out of contact for a while.”

“So how does your dad know her whereabouts?”

“Apparently the Arizona clique sent word about her.”

“Meaning she’s probably in Arizona. Have you searched the area?”

He glanced at me. “Of course. But Arizona isn’t exactly a small state.”

“And the Arizona clique won’t help?”

He snorted. “Help the unwanted bastard son of a California clique? Not likely.”

I raised an eyebrow. “So despite the fact the cliques work together for self-protection from humans, they don’t exactly get along?”

“You could say that.” Amusement ran through his voice, and a tremor that was all desire tripped across my skin.

“Meaning your father might not actually know anything. He could be lying in an effort to get the ring back.”

“He could, and I certainly don’t trust him one iota, but I do believe he knows
something
.” His sudden smile was cold. Hard. “His strength is waning rapidly and he’s desperate for the ring. I think, in this case, he’ll tell me what he knows.”

I studied him for a moment, then asked, “So why did the conditioning break now? Why not before?”

He smiled and reached under the blanket to gently clasp my hand. His skin was slightly rough against mine, but so warm. I opened my hand, letting his fingers slide between mine, feeling an odd rightness in the gesture.

“Because the conditioning only works with strangers. You have become far more than that to me now.”

“And you to me.” It sounded so lame, and there was so much more I wished I could say, but suddenly my stupid tongue was all tied in knots and the words I really wanted to say got stuck in my throat.

But maybe that was for the best. With everything I still had to do, what was the point of pouring my heart out?

I watched the sea for a while, looking for any sign that the magic was returning, then said, “What if she’s met a nice man and is having the time of her life?”

His sudden grin had a wry twist to it. “Are there any nice men still out here in the world?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t met any lately.”

He glanced at me, eyebrows raised and a devilish twinkle in his eyes. “I could play nice, if you want.”

“I know the sort of nice you’re talking about,” I replied dryly. “But if you want that ring, we’d better behave. The sea doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

“Later, then.”

“Much later.” When this was all over, and everyone was safe.

Silence fell again, and day grew around us, bringing houses and the bay to life. I dragged my knees close to my chest, watching the water, watching the dance of sunlight across the waves. Feeling the growing sense of power rumbling underneath them.

Eventually I tossed off the blanket and walked back into the water. The sense of power grew stronger, swirling around my legs. Farther out in the bay, a long plume of water became visible, its silver droplets twinkling and gleaming like rainbows as something rushed toward me.

I held out my hand, palm up, as the plume of water drew ever closer. Then there was a flash of silver, the warm kiss of water across my palm, and the ring was returned.

“Thank you.”

The quick dance of sparkling droplets said the words had been accepted and acknowledged by the deeper energy of the sea, then they, too, were gone.

I glanced at the ring sitting in the middle of my palm. The dragon’s jeweled eyes still gleamed like blood dripping from a wound, and the ring itself remained heavy and cold against my skin. Reluctantly, I closed my fingers around it, then turned and headed back to the beach.

“Here,” I said, holding out my hand. “I hope it helps you find your sister.”

He opened his palm and I dropped the thing into it. The red eyes seemed to gleam ominously before he closed his fingers around it and shoved it in his pocket. As if he, too, felt the coldness in the thing.

His gaze met mine, the rich depths gleaming brightly in the sunlight, as if lit from behind. “Thanks.”

I shrugged, trying for casual, knowing there was no other choice. “If you’re no longer going to use the car, can I take it? I can’t swim in the bay at this hour in either form—there are too many boats and people about.”

He took the keys from his other pocket and dropped them into my hand. “It’s the red Ford with the white top. You can’t miss it.”

I clenched my fingers around the keys, pressing them into my palm, using the pain of it to help stop the tears that were threatening to spill.

“This is not the end for us, Destiny,” he said softly.

My gaze rose to his, and something in my soul sighed at the determination I saw in those bright depths. “Good, because I don’t
want
this to be an end for us. But I also don’t want to be responsible for your death. Egan was enough. Go find your sister, do what you have to do, and maybe we can meet up at your big old house a month or so down the track.”

“Egan made his choices, Destiny. You’re not responsible for what happened because of them.”

“Egan died because he chose to escape with me, and no amount of prettying it will change that fact.” I half turned away, then added, “Good-bye, Trae. Good luck with your sister.”

“Damn it,” he said, then stepped forward, grabbing my arm and pulling me backward, into his arms. His mouth claimed mine, and it was all heat and intensity and raw emotion. It was a kiss that said everything that remained unsaid between us, a kiss that held so many promises that my heart ached and my stomach churned.