Firestorm Forever: A Dragonfire Novel (42 page)

“Was he?” Sam shook her head, haunted by old arguments and resentments. “There’s something to be said for acting without hesitation, for being decisive.”

“I guess.” Jac sounded less convinced. Sam pulled into her driveway, her gaze trailing to Sloane’s house. There was a black pick-up truck there with a trailer. She narrowed her eyes but she wasn’t imagining that the words ‘Here Be Dragons’ were emblazoned on the side.

Dragons
again
?

Before Sam could say anything, her sister was leaning forward, peering at her own house. Her eyes were wide with surprise. “You bought
this
house?”

“Well, I didn’t bring you to somebody else’s.”

“Ha ha.”

“Why? What’s wrong with it?”

Jac got out of the car and stared at the house, walking up and down one side as she checked it out. “It’s a fixer-upper. It has charm and character, maybe a few idiosyncrasies.”

“It has idiosyncrasies by the bucket,” Sam replied. “Don’t have fantasies about your shower water staying the same temperature. We won’t even talk about the electrical. Or the mice.”

Jac turned to face her. “Again I ask: who are you and what have you done with my sister?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sam opened the trunk and Jac came to get her bag.

“It means that this looks like a place Mom would have bought,” Jac said, much to Sam’s surprise. “Or maybe me. It’s the kind of place that charms you and catches at your heart so that you look past its issues.”

“Is it?” Sam glanced over the house again.

Jac nodded, her approval clear. “Yes. This is the kind of house that would haunt a person, tempt them with possibilities. It’s a dreamer’s house.”

“And you’re surprised I bought it because…”

“You always live in places that are sterile and contemporary, all steel and glass and yawning emptiness.” Jac grimaced. “White and silver. Stainless steel counters. Floors so cold you can get frostbite, and surfaces so clean that you could do surgery anywhere in the house. Practical houses.” She shuddered visibly.

“Be serious. The place in Atlanta wasn’t that bad. I liked it.”

Jac grimaced. “Exactly my point. It was as welcoming as a morgue. How on earth did you end up with
this
place?”

Sam considered the house from her sister’s view. “I liked how far it was out of town. Close enough for shopping, but far enough to not have nosy neighbors.”

Jac shook her head, amused, then turned and looked at Sloane’s house. It was the only neighboring house in view. Sam felt herself stiffen, but her sister just smiled and headed for the front door. “That is far away. Come on and show me what you’ve done to the place.”

“Nothing,” Sam admitted. “My stuff is here and that’s it.”

“Oh good.” Jac feigned relief. “You really
are
my sister, then. I was getting worried.” She smiled to soften the words. “Maybe I can help you make it look as if you live here, instead of like you’re renting for an hour or two.”

Jac did have a gift for making a house into a home. It was a knack that Sam didn’t possess and she knew it. It had never been important to her before. She’d always had more important things to do, and had known that she might have to fly out to another corner of the world at a moment’s notice.

But maybe, just maybe, this time she’d stay. She didn’t want to think about the influence Sloane Forbes could have on that decision.

She also didn’t want to think about the fact that she’d been inspired by her father, driven by him most of the time, but she’d always gone to her mom for solace.

Maybe that was why she’d bought this house.

“That would be great,” Sam said with a smile and meant it.

* * *

In the great room of Sloane’s house, three dragons slumbered side by side. The tourmaline and gold one was on one side, the sapphire and steel dragon on the other. The opal and gold dragon was between them. Sloane was dozing, breathing dragonsmoke and weaving it with Quinn’s, and monitoring the older
Pyr
’s vital signs. He’d sung the Apothecary’s song until he was too exhausted to sing it again, and he believed that Rafferty’s state was stable. Quinn’s strength was a big help, as was the fact that he shared an affinity with earth with Rafferty. Sloane hoped that Quinn was able to reach Rafferty in different ways than he could. He had to hope that the fact that his house was partly underground, meaning that the influence of the earth was strong, would help Rafferty.

Rafferty wasn’t improving though, and the darkfire still glimmered beneath his scales, like a lightning storm gathering in the distance. Sloane had no idea what that meant, but he didn’t trust it.

Still, he had to restore his own strength.

Sloane was more than aware of Chandra and Thorolf in an upstairs bedroom, and Melissa and Isabelle sleeping in another. Sara was sleeping with the boys in a third bedroom while Eileen had retired to a fourth bedroom with Zoë. Erik had only joined his family at Sloane’s insistence that he rest. It was discouraging that Erik couldn’t see Pwyll’s ghost, and he knew that Erik was disheartened by that as well. It had to just be exhaustion, not the loss of Erik’s abilities. Sloane suspected Erik would have argued with him more if Quinn hadn’t arrived.

Sloane cast his thoughts more broadly and felt Sam’s presence in her house next door. She was talking and he could almost discern her words. There was someone visiting her, someone whose presence clearly made her happy, and Sloane was glad.

He could have used some of her company himself. He sighed and let his eyes close again, trying to will his strength to rebuild.

Rafferty stirred suddenly and Sloane was immediately awake once more.

“
She’s here,
” the older
Pyr
murmured in old-speak, his words so low as to be almost indistinct, even to Sloane.

“
Melissa is upstairs,
” Sloane replied. “
I’ll call her.
”

“
No, no. She’s here,
” Rafferty repeated with some agitation. There was an edge in his next words. “
I smell her
.”

Who did Rafferty mean? He inhaled deeply of the evening air but didn’t smell anyone other than his sleeping guests. He shifted shape and went to look into the night, but there was no movement on the driveway or the road beyond.

He looked at Sam’s house, unable to restrain his curiosity about her guest. The lights were on in her kitchen. He inhaled again, unable to stop himself, and recognized that two human women were in Sam’s house. One was Sam, the other a stranger.

A woman. A girlfriend, a sister, an aunt or a niece.

Not a lover.

Sloane shook his head at the power of his own relief. He wasn’t quite ready to be replaced.

He turned back, only to find that Rafferty had slipped into a deeper sleep again. Quinn’s eyes shone, his lids almost but not quite completely closed.

Who had Rafferty been talking about? Was he just confused? Who had he thought was here?

* * *

Marco went back to Seattle, for lack of a better destination. Time had given him a bit more perspective. He hated that the darkfire had betrayed him, and he despised that he had had any part in Rafferty’s injury. He hoped that
Pyr
would recover from his injury and wished there was something he could do to fix his miscalculation.

Other than give voice to Pwyll’s song. He just didn’t trust the darkfire. He couldn’t summon it or try to control it, not now.

Marco couldn’t, however, blame Jac for her choice. He’d known she wanted to strike down dragons. He’d known she needed to avenge her nephew’s death. He hadn’t made any effort to explain distinctions between
Pyr
and
Slayer
to her. The fault was his, not hers.

He was responsible for her trusting Jorge as much as she did, as well.

He’d followed her to California and been startled that her destination was so close to Sloane’s home. The air was thick with the scent of the
Pyr
, and he’d quickly departed, knowing that Jorge wouldn’t attempt any attack when there were so many
Pyr
in the vicinity.

Not alone, anyway.

Instead, he returned to Seattle, wanting to be there when Jac arrived. Maybe they could talk about it. Maybe he could make amends. Maybe he could figure out Jorge’s scheme.

As soon as he unlocked the door to his apartment, Marco knew something was wrong. First he saw the mark on the hardwood floor in the living room. A spiral had been burned into the floor, the smell of its creation faded but still clear to him. He stepped into the darkened apartment and saw that the wall where he’d written the verse had been scorched. It was black, the words burned to oblivion. His body hovered on the cusp of change and the blue shimmer of his pending shift lit the apartment.

He took another step before he smelled
Slayer
, and then he froze.

He saw the golden salamander at the middle of the spiral and knew it was Jorge. The salamander was perched on a book, an old book, and Marco knew it was the book he’d given to Jac. The spiral reminded him of the one in Chen’s cavern.

Jorge glimmered blue.

Marco shifted and leapt at the intruder, talon outstretched. Jorge laughed and disappeared, vanishing along with the book as if neither had ever been there. Marco’s claw closed on empty air, but he was too consumed by pain to care that the
Slayer
had escaped.

He was snared in a coil of dragonsmoke, his scales burning all over his body with savage fire. He cried out, even as the spiral in the floor seemed to spin around him, drawing him down to its center with inexorable force. He was trapped, snared, and hooked, his struggles only pulling him closer to the eye of the spiral.

Once there, he felt the dragonsmoke slide beneath his burning scales and spear his heart. He felt the strength leaving him, as Jorge’s dragonsmoke sapped his power. He tried to summon the darkfire so he could manifest elsewhere, outside of the trap, but it was too late. He rotated helplessly between forms, then felt consciousness ebb away.

Even then, he knew that if he awakened from this slumber, it would be because Jorge still wanted him alive.

Marco didn’t even want to think about why that might be. He groaned at his own mistake, then closed his eyes in anguish.

How could the darkfire have led him so far astray?

* * *

Sam drove Jac back to the airport at the end of the week. Their relationship was much improved, to her thinking, and was both warmer and more honest. Sam knew it would take many more such visits to remove all the barriers between them, but they hugged at the airport and promised to keep in closer touch, which was a good start.

She was thinking about Sloane as she drove home, wondering how she could drop in on him without being too obvious.

Maybe being too obvious wouldn’t be a problem. It hadn’t been, that first time.

She missed him in a way that had nothing to do with sex. And she missed the sex, too. She smiled at herself, thinking that she was being more honest with herself as well as Jac, and turned onto the road out of town. There was a man walking along the shoulder. He looked tired, because his footsteps were dragging.

There was nowhere he could be walking within easy proximity and the day was getting warm.

On impulse, Sam stopped the car and opened the passenger window. “Can I give you a ride somewhere?”

To her surprise, he was younger than she’d expected. He looked to be about thirty-five, a handsome Asian man with weariness in his eyes.

“I’m going to the Apothecary,” he said by way of reply.

So, there
were
people who called Sloane by that title.

“Sloane Forbes,” she said and he smiled. “I know where he lives. I’ll give you a ride.”

“I wouldn’t inconvenience you.”

“He’s my neighbor,” Sam said with a smile and unlocked the door. “It would be no trouble to give you a ride.”

“Thank you very much.” He got into the car and sighed. “I’ve come a long way.”

“It’s a good hike yet.” Sam pulled out and drove as her companion looked out the window at the passing scenery. “Have you visited Sloane before?”

Her passenger shook his head. “Never. It’s very beautiful here.”

“It is nice,” Sam agreed. They rode in silence the rest of the way, then Sam pulled into the parking lot in front of Sloane’s shop. Her passenger, to her surprise, inhaled deeply, then nodded with satisfaction before getting out of the car. He looked taller and more alert.

He must have been smelling the herbs. Sam could always smell the lavender when she drove down her driveway and she took a deep breath of it, too. She associated it with coming home now.

The shop was open, which was a relief, so Sam seized the excuse of delivering Sloane’s guest and got out of the car, too. They went into the shop, her passenger’s curiosity more than clear. There was a big blond guy behind the counter, and Sam realized he was the one who’d arrived in the Mustang.

He was wearing a blue T-shirt but Sam noticed the large and detailed dragon tattoo on his forearm. The dragon coiled around his arm, its head and open claws on the back of the man’s hand. The tail disappeared beneath the sleeve hem and Sam shivered a little. How weird that there seemed to be so many dragons in Sloane’s vicinity.