Dragon Fever (17 page)

He yanked out the knife.

Not a sound from Torch. Blood spurted from the wound, and ichor welled behind it. Rave clamped his hand over the gash, giving the ichor a moment to stop the arterial spray.

But his whole body yearned for the open doorway. From his crouch, holding Torch’s life in with his hand, Rave couldn’t see the parking lot, but the screech of tires told him what he needed to know.

He felt his heart was being torn from his body as gruesomely as the knife flaying to bone.

But he couldn’t leave his cousin to die, picked apart by those human vultures.

Viciously ignoring the ache of the black smoke in his body, Rave lifted Torch to his shoulder and staggered out to the battered SUV.

A dark form in Keep livery appeared from behind the vehicle. If he hadn’t been weighed down by Torch, Rave might’ve punched first and asked questions later, but after a split second, he recognized Torch’s second-in-command, another dragon-shifter.

“What the hell happened?” Lucius yanked open the door.

“Where the hell were you?” Rave shot back. The words were only partly garbled, his neck still aching from the touch of the alchemical magic.

“Torch said to hold back.” Luc helped lay Torch in the rear of the SUV. “He said the females were probably being watched, tailed at least, and he wanted to draw out their accomplices.”

Rave cursed over the sound of Torch’s breathless groan. “So he wanted to use them as bait, but they were the bait for us. What a clusterfuck.”

He fished the keys from Torch’s pocket. “Let’s go.”

Luc slammed the door shut. “Where to?”

“To win back my solarys.”

***

Piper huddled Esme against her shoulder and avoided looking across the limo at the man with the gun.

He was dressed in a uniform with the Keep logo on the breast patch of the shirt.

And there was blood on his hands.

At least a few drops of it was probably hers from where he’d cracked her across the mouth to stop her screams. Her lower lip was swollen and aching, and she guessed she’d find bruises on her shins. He’d pushed her into the limo, making her trip on the door frame. By the time she’d gotten herself upright, Esme was being dumped on top of her. And then the limo was screeching away.

Next to gun-guy sat another man, cradling his arm as carefully as Piper held Esme. His face was splotchy with sweat, and Piper thought she could probably take him. If she had Anjali at her back…

But her friend—was Anj still a friend when she was working with Ashcraft’s goons?—slumped on the limo seat beside her, looking out the window.

Maybe she didn’t want to see the gun either. But she’d been waiting quietly in the limo with Esme when gun-guy threw Piper inside. Obviously, Anjali had made her choice.

If ever there was a time to call out to Rave, this was it.

Piper cleared her throat. “Where are you taking us?”

“Shut up,” gun-guy said, his tone casual and conversational though his words were not.

She’d never been good at confrontation and always kept her head down, so she had no idea what to do next. Did she need to know where she was for Rave to find her? Would he even come? Or did he think she’d been part of the conspiracy to steal a dragon’s ichor?

To her surprise, Anjali straightened away from the window, reaching for her purse. “I’m going to call Ashcraft. I kept my end of the bargain, and you need to let us go.”

“No.” Gun-guy jittered the weapon in his hand, making Piper catch her breath at his carelessness. “Mr. Ashcraft is going to be furious that you lost the ichor. He doesn’t need to hear about it any sooner than necessary.”

Anjali’s lip curled in a sneer. “I didn’t lose it. I served those dragons to you on a fucking platter, and you couldn’t even carve them up.”

Gun-guy swore viciously. Piper had to agree; it hadn’t been
quite
so easy as Anjali was making it sound.

Not that she was going to defend either of them to evil Lars.

But what
could
she do? There were the two men across from her and the driver, at least. Esme was defenseless and useless. Anjali seemed to have rolled her dice…and lost.

She’d have to take her own chance if she saw one.

But she didn’t.

The road outside the limo was dark, but she recognized the straight line of lights when they finally slowed. The airfield.

Maybe once she would’ve been grateful to get out of Vegas considering she hadn’t wanted to come in the first place. But now…

She’d be leaving Rave behind and heading into Ashcraft’s clutches.

This had to be her chance—

Gun-guy grabbed Esme from her hold and hauled her out of the limo. Ez’s cute heeled boots were dragged off her feet, and her stockinged heels bumped along the pavement. When Piper started to go after them, he paused and pointed the gun at her.

“Mr. Ashcraft doesn’t need you.”

Piper froze, staring down that black bore that was scarier than anything she’d seen in Bale’s aerie cavern. Her heart slammed against her ribs in a steady rhythm:
Rave, Rave, Rave.

Anjali elbowed in front of her. “She has a connection to the dragons. That’s valuable to Ashcraft. Considering your colossal failure, Antonio, you’re going to need to bring him back something, so I suggest you keep her alive.”

Piper wasn’t sure if she was supposed to be grateful, but when Anjali tugged on her arm, she got out of the limo.

The jet’s engines were already running—was that even safe,
ah mierda
, that so didn’t matter right now—and their ragtag group headed for the stairs. Gun-guy, a.k.a. Antonio apparently, had handed Esme to the driver, and he brought up the rear, said gun still in his hand.

He narrowed his eyes at Piper when she glanced back, so she started up the stairs.

Rave, Rave, Rave.

As they settled in under gun-guy’s wary eye, Anjali leaned toward Piper.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Let me do the talking.”

That had always been their way: Anjali talking, Esme paying, Piper tagging along. And it looked like that was never going to stop. Dammit.

“Rave would’ve saved us,” she told Anj. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“He couldn’t even save himself,” Anjali shot back. “And when Ashcraft deigns to do his own dirty work, none of them stand a chance.”

“The house always wins.” Piper held that belief close to her chest. She had to.

But Anj shook her head. “Not when the only deck is stacked by a warlock.”

Oh geez. Of all the things she didn’t want to hear…

The jet spun, heading for the runway. They’d have at least two more transfers: getting off the plane and getting to Ashcraft. Surely there’d be another chance to escape, to make her way back to Rave.

The engines cranked up another notch as they started to accelerate. Antonio had taken her phone in the limo, but Esme’s lost phone was somewhere around her. Maybe she could still call Rave the normal way.

Rave, Rave, Rave!

Outside the plane windows, the lights of the airfield dropped away. The pressure forced Piper back in her seat, but the thought of losing Rave flattened her more.

He was a dragon. Impossible to believe.

And he’d wanted her.

Even more impossible to believe.

But she did, and she needed to tell him she wanted to be his solarys, whatever that meant, whatever other secrets he might be keeping. She put her hand over the cold plexiglass, staring out at the night.

“You are my treasure, Rave,” she murmured. “I won’t lose you.”

Something flashed by the window, too quick to see, and she flinched away. “What the—”

A terrible noise—the shriek of metal tearing—drowned her out. Antonio half rose from his seat, his gaze fixed ahead on the cockpit.

And was cast sideways into the bulkhead when the jet tilted drunkenly.

The engines screamed, and the plane tipped to the other side, as if it was being batted around by a cat. A huge, flying…

Dragon!

Piper grabbed the edges of her chair as the plane skidded in the air and pressed herself to the window.

There! The steady pulse of the jet’s position lights illuminated a sleek, powerful shape. She couldn’t see it all in the darkness, but a segmented leathery wing stroked past the window, dangerously close to the engine.

If it was sucked in, they’d all fall.

The dragon bumped the jet again, then pounced, forcing the jet’s nose downward.

Piper had glimpsed the area just beyond the airfield when they’d flown in.

It was all mountains, jagged and dark and wild.

The jet slalomed again. This time, Antonio landed almost in her lap.

He angled the gun to the window and fired.

Her scream was lost in the sudden howl of wind and the ringing in her ear. Her whipping hair blinded her.

The gun blasted again, but even through the deafening cacophony she heard the roar of the dragon.

Fury blasted through her veins like lightning and she slammed Antonio toward the window.

It was too small to shove him through—unfortunately—but she coiled herself against the back of her chair and braced hard to kick at his arm. Pinned to the broken shards of plexiglass, he yowled.

He wrenched away from her.

And dropped the gun.

Half falling out of her chair as she was, she slithered the rest of the way to the floor and scuffled for the weapon.

Antonio slammed his boots near her fingers, forcing her to recoil, but then he staggered back, eyes wide.

The third eye in his forehead wept a thin stream of blood, and then he dropped.

Anjali swung the gun toward the other man, but he was still in his seat, jaw slack.

Piper bolted for the cockpit.

The pilot was wrestling the stick, trying to force the jet higher, chanting curse words in his fear.

Her own fear gave her strength as she hauled him out of his seat. He squawked but backed away slowly when he saw Anjali.

Piper threw herself into the still warm seat. Though aerial application had increased her father’s pesticide exposure, she’d learned something along the way.

The jet was much, much nicer than the old crop duster she’d flown, but it only took her a second to ease the plane into a descent. The dragon must have sensed their capitulation, since the buffeting had stopped, but she didn’t have time to look for the intriguing shape. She found the landing lights and flicked them on, bathing the foothills in a harsh glow.

They were going down too sharply, and the ground was too rough even for a sturdy farm plane. The sleek jet would break apart on impact.

A longing for Rave shattered inside her, and she hazarded one glance upward through the cockpit’s slanting window.

A scintillating jeweled eye stared back.

The shiver down her spine this time wasn’t fear, but something joyful and primal. Her heart soared even as she guided the jet lower. The plane bumped lightly in the air, and the stick wriggled in her hand—she’d lost pitch and roll.

The dragon had them in its talons.

“Buckle up,” she told Anjali.

She braced herself, but they landed in one piece if not quite feather-light.

After killing the engines, she raced for the door, deploying the steps. From her elevated position, she glimpsed the airfield lights in the distance. The lights of the city limits farther away gleamed on the low clouds. She jumped down and hit the ground running. Rocks and scrub brush threatened to turn her ankle and would have yanked the jet to a crashing halt if not for the dragon’s control.

Where was he? Where was—

She whirled to face the jet.

The plane’s landing and position lights cast puddles of light in the darkness. Backlit against the glow, perched on the fuselage, was the dragon, vast wings still spread and creating their own glimmering shadow against the night.

The lights glinted on edged scales and a fringe of spikes that crested the serpentine neck and snaked down the lashing tail.

“Rave,” she whispered.

The dragon reared up onto his haunches and roared, a sound like a panther, a hawk, and an F-16 rolled into one. One backwash of the leathery wings set her on her heels with a rush of metal-scented air.

Wicked claws screeched down the steel and pierced the cockpit window with a crash, crushing the heavy steel support beam between the plexiglass shield.

The deadly predator subduing its prey.

She took a step forward, her pulse pounding with awe.

Another squeal—of tires this time—made her spin around again.

She recognized the old SUV bouncing across the dirt. Torch and another man were on the ground even faster than she was.

They didn’t bother gaping at the dragon.

Torch gave her a nod as they bounded up the jet stairs. If the oily black smoke had hurt him, he seemed to have shaken it off. If anything, he seemed
too
energized, as if the fight was exactly what he’d wanted. That did not bode well for Ashcraft’s minions…

In moments they returned. Torch gripped Anjali’s arm, almost shoving her down the stairs. Her mouth was a straight, blanched line of shock and dismay. Torch’s companion was infinitely more gentle with the lolling Esme. The pilot and the man with the crooked arm hustled down behind them.

Antonio’s body was left behind.

The instant they cleared the doorway, the dragon launched skyward with one mighty downbeat of its wings.

Piper had watched raptors over the fields where her father worked and in her own fieldwork, and she’d always admired their keen, relentless power and wild beauty.

Rave inspired all that plus a mythological wonderment that left her unable to look away.

Even when he dove with shocking speed and crushed the nose of the jet into the ground.

The scream of crushed metal was agonizing, and the whole party backed away.

Except Piper. Torch’s friend had to drag her back.

She understood why when Rave rocketed up again and then paused, hovering over the wreckage with an incredible display of strength. The gusts of air sent them all back another few steps.

And then he opened his great jaws.