Fire Brand (City of Dragons Book 6)

by Val St. Crowe

  I looked up at her. “Would Thanksgiving be Thanksgiving without mashed potatoes?”

  “Um, not really,” she said.

  “Yeah, I didn’t think so either. Stop carving. It’s going to be another half hour.”

  “A half hour?” said Vivica. “But we’re already going to end up keeping the boys up late. We were supposed to eat an hour ago.”

  “I know,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

  “Maybe we don’t need mashed potatoes,” said Felicity.

  “Can you put them in the microwave or something?” called Christy from the living room. She had Jackson on her lap and was bouncing him.

  “I don’t know,” I said.

  Scott came over to the kitchen. “Sorry, I’d weigh in, but I know nothing about mashed potatoes.”

  “It’s fine, Scott,” I said. “How’s Asia doing? Is she hungry?”

  “She’s snacking on the crackers and cheese you put out for appetizers. No worries,” he said.

  “Okay,” I said. “Okay, good.” I snatched my phone out of my pocket and hit the microphone in the search function. “Mashed potatoes in the microwave.”

  The search results filled the screen.

  “Eight minutes!” I said. “You can do it in eight minutes.”

  “Well, stick them in the freaking microwave,” said Felicity.

  I grabbed a microwave-safe dish and dumped the potatoes and water into it. Then I stuck it in the microwave and hit the buttons for eight minutes.

  I took a deep breath. “Okay, okay. So, we’re going to have potatoes. We have gravy. We have green bean casserole and stuffing. We have turkey. We have amazing desserts, thanks to Christy and Vivica, and… it’s going to be fucking Thanksgiving, people.”

  Christy furrowed her brow. “Should you be saying that word in front of the babies?”

  “Home word, Wyatt,” I said. “Remember never to say that word except at home.” I dragged my hands over my face. “Oh my God, what time is it? I told Lachlan that someone would bring him food around now. I need to call him and tell him we’re running late.”

  Felicity thrust a glass of wine in my hand. “Sit down. Breathe. Drink. Call Lachlan.”

  I nodded. “Okay.” I took a long drink of wine and collapsed into one of the chairs in the kitchen. I dialed Lachlan.

  It rang. And rang.

  What? What the hell was he doing? Here I was, picturing him sitting around bored and lonely in a hotel room all by himself, just waiting until we were sure it was safe enough for us to be in each other’s presence and he wasn’t even—

  “Hey, beautiful,” he answered.

  “Hi,” I said.

  “Happy Thanksgiving,” he said.

  “Happy Thanksgiving,” I said. “Um, it’s going to be a little while before I can get food to you. And I know I promised someone would bring Wyatt, but it’s going to be his bed time, and he might just scream, so I don’t even know if I should—”

  “Hey, you know what? Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I was actually getting ready to call you and tell you that, uh, at the hotel bar, I ran into one of the guys that helped us arrest Rowan.”

  “You did?”

  “Yeah, his name’s Connelly. Nice guy. Going through a divorce. Living in the hotel. All alone for the holiday. We had a beer, and then we decided since we were both on our own we’d go out and check out the Denny’s Thanksgiving special together. I figure why not, right? So, don’t worry about me. I don’t need you to bring me food.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Well, I guess it’s nice that you’re going to have company, and that you’re doing that for Connelly. He’s probably really lonely.”

  “Yeah, I figured he could use a friend. And I guess he’s desperate. You know I’m not exactly popular with the other cops.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Desperate.”

  “All right,” he said. “Well, I should go, okay? Kiss Wyatt for me.”

  “Oh, you should talk to him. Actually, let me put you on speaker.”

  He chuckled. “All right.”

  I took the phone away from my ear and hit the speaker button. “Can you hear me?”

  “Yup,” he said.

  “Hi, Lachlan!” called Felicity. “Happy Turkey Day! We miss you.”

  “Hey, Felicity,” he said.

  “You doing okay out there, Flint?” said Christy, coming over, holding Jackson.

  “Yeah, I’m great, Dirk. Glad you could make it,” he said.

  “Hi, Lachlan,” said Vivica. She was holding Wyatt. “Wyatt, can you say hi to Daddy?”

  Wyatt peered down at the phone. “Mamamamama,” he pronounced.

  We all cracked up.

  “Where’s Connor?” said Lachlan.

  “Oh, he just woke up like a half hour ago,” I said. “He called and said he was running late. I said we were running late too, so I guess it’s all good.”

  “Yeah, well, tell him I’m sorry again,” said Lachlan.

  “You and me both,” I muttered. I couldn’t believe I’d been considering killing Connor. The blood bond was not cool.

  “Thanks everyone,” said Lachlan. “You guys have a great Thanksgiving.”

  The microwave beeped. “That’s the potatoes,” I said. “I love you, Lachlan.”

  “I love you, too,” he said.

  “And Wyatt loves you,” I said.

  “And I love my little man,” he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “I love you both so, so much.”

  “Ditto,” I said.

  * * *

  ~Lachlan~

  Lachlan hung up the phone.

  She’d bought it, then. He’d been afraid she’d hear some noise, like some winter bird cawing away, and know that he was actually outside. He was all the way up north of Sea City in the woods. Before she’d called, he’d been working on building a fire pit here, gathering up sticks for fuel.

  In a cage to one side, he had a rabbit that he’d picked up from a pet store. There was a knife sitting on top of the cage.

  He also had a teether that belonged to Wyatt. The little boy had slobbered all over it, and Waverly had said that it would be just as effective as a lock of hair or some other personal item.

  He hadn’t wanted Penny to guess what he was doing. Just didn’t want to fight with her about it. He wasn’t sure if she’d be against it or not, but it didn’t matter. His mind was made up. He was doing this.

  Earlier in the day, he’d gone to see Waverly Garrett, and he’d gotten all the information that he needed to perform this particular ritual. He wasn’t looking forward to it, but he thought he could handle it. Maybe it wasn’t the purest, whitest of magic, but it wasn’t so bad as he’d imagined it might be.

  Anyway, it was worth it.

  After what had happened, he knew that he and Penny could never use the blood bond again. They’d managed it this time, but they’d been playing with fire. He wasn’t going to allow them to go back there again. And that power was the only thing he could think of that they could draw on to fight the Green King and the children of the deep. From what he could tell, the Green King was going to be worse than the Eagle and the Lynx, far more powerful.

  The Eagle and the Lynx had nearly drowned Penny, even with the whiteflame, and Lachlan had been powerless to stop it. It had taken her magic to get them close enough again to fight, to win.

  He couldn’t put her in that kind of danger again.

  And Wyatt?

  No, Wyatt was never going to be in that kind of danger. Never.

  So, maybe doing this ritual meant that the Green King came sooner. So what? This way, it would be him against the monsters. He’d save his family. He would keep them both from that kind of danger. He had to do it.

  He was glad she’d called, though. He’d been so engrossed in finding wood to burn that he hadn’t remembered that she was planning on bringing him food. It wouldn’t have been good if she hadn’t found him in his hotel room.

  He surveyed what he’d gathered.
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  Looked like enough wood.

  He set about building up the fire—kindling underneath a teepee of bigger sticks. Logs on the outside, ready to be added once the blaze was ready. He lit the kindling. Blew on it.

  It was comforting building the fire this way. He hadn’t built a fire in a while. Penny’s fire breathing tended to come in handy that way.

  It took a while, but soon he had the fire coaxed to a nice blaze. He enjoyed the heat, the light. It made him feel primitive and powerful, like a caveman who’d conquered the elements.

  He reached into his pocket and took out a piece of paper in which he’d scribbled down the incantation that Waverly had given him.

  He looked it over. Okay. Now, did he have enough hands? He picked up the knife and then stuck it into his belt. He picked up the teether and stuck it between his own teeth. He opened the cage and reached in for the rabbit. It was soft. Shivering. Small.

  Hell, it was barely more than a baby.

  He grimaced.

  Thrusting his hands into its soft fur, he picked it up by the scruff of its neck. You eat meat all the time, Lachlan. And you drink animal blood. This is the same thing.

  But it wasn’t, and he knew it. It was one thing to abstractly know that an animal died. It was quite another to… to…

  He took a deep breath. He looked down at the incantation. He grabbed the teether, held it behind the slip of paper.

  He cleared his throat. “I call on the spirits of air and darkness. I call on the north and east, the west and the south. I call on the cold wind of the storm and the hot wind of the blaze. Come to me and do my bidding.” He tossed the teether on the fire. It began to melt and twist in the heat. “Take this piece of the blood dragon.” The smell of it burning stung his nose. He recoiled. “And take my offering. Make the power of the blood dragon mine.”

  He tucked the slip of paper away. It was all repetition from here on out.

  Snatching the knife out of his belt, he gritted his teeth.

  The rabbit twitched in his hand, struggling, trying to get away. He could feel its small heart beating against his palm.

  Lachlan sucked in air and then punched the knife into the rabbit’s body. He dragged it downward.

  Hot blood gushed from the wound.

  Lachlan threw his head back, raising the furry bundle, which was still twitching, writhing in its death throes. The spastic movements splashed blood over his face and body.

  “Take my offering and make the power of the blood dragon mine!” he called.

  The blood covered his face, seeped into his clothes.

  “Take my offering,” he whispered. He threw the corpse of the rabbit into the fire. “Make the power of the blood dragon mine.”

  The fire leaped up, the flames turning purple and green.

  Sparks flew.

  Lachlan thrust his hands into the fire.

  The power hit him hard, like molten lava, burning into his skin.

  His eyes rolled back in his head.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  I woke up in the middle of the night to hear someone coming into the apartment.

  I sat up in bed, pulling the covers tight to my chin. “Hello?” I called.

  “Penny, it’s me,” said Lachlan’s voice.

  I got up and hurried out of the room into the hallway.

  He was standing just inside the door. He was dirty. His face was covered in something flaky and brownish red. Blood?

  “Lachlan?” I whispered. “You weren’t supposed to come home until tomorrow.”

  “I know,” he said. Something about him seemed… off. And it wasn’t just that he looked messy. The way he was standing…

  He came back the hallway and pushed me aside. He strode past me towards Wyatt’s room.

  “Lachlan,” I said, my voice coming out shrill. I was afraid. “What are you doing?”

  He didn’t answer me. He went into Wyatt’s room.

  I hurried after him.

  Lachlan was carefully unwinding Wyatt’s talisman from his wrist.

  “Lachlan,” I said. “You can’t take that off of him.”

  “He’s not the one who needs it right now,” said Lachlan.

  “What?” I said.

  Lachlan pushed past me again. He threw open the door to the back porch, and cold air rushed inside.

  I shivered in my nightgown, but I hurried outside after him.

  There, on the beach, were at least ten dragons.

  When they saw Lachlan, they all rushed forward, heading for him.

  Lachlan held up a hand and they stopped moving. He made a gesture, and all of their necks snapped at once. They fell down on the sand, dead. “Damn it, that’s a mess,” he muttered, pulling Wyatt’s talisman over his neck.

  “Lachlan?” I breathed.

  He turned to look at me, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

  I hugged myself. “What did you do?”

  * * *

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