Marked by Fire (Dragonkeepers Book 3)

by Kimber White

  I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t even know what to do. As if my feet took on a life of their own, I found myself running down Main Street toward Mary Harris’s boarding house. I just hoped I could figure out a plan once I got there.

  Chapter Seven

  Finn

  “It went about as well as you’d expect,” I said. I held my phone a little away from my ear as my mother let out an exasperated shout.

  “I can’t believe they all showed up to that meeting,” Avelina said. “Tell me again?”

  “Benard Bishop, Timothy Jakes, Miles Marvin, Paula Landry, and Gemma Hayes.” I hesitated a bit on Gemma’s name. It felt like an odd betrayal talking about her to my mother behind her back.

  “Hmmm.” She got hard to hear. My mother had gone to Knoydart. The wind made her voice cut in and out. I don’t know why she wouldn’t just meet me somewhere halfway. She insisted I stay in Durness and in disguise. No shifting unless it was absolutely necessary.

  “Marvin,” she said. “Let me check into that. He’s probably related to Marvin Marvin. Shae might have some useful information about the family.”

  My brother Xander’s wife had been raised by a mage named Marvin. He was dead now, but he’d been banished from his coven years ago for using dark magic. My mother might be onto something.

  “It’s not exactly a unique name,” I said.

  “There are no unique names when it comes to Circean witches,” she said. “There are powerful families. Just like it used to be for dragons. I’ve known a few Marvins in my time but can’t say I was impressed. Hayes though. Did you mention a Hayes?”

  “Yes,” I said. I stood on the back porch of Mrs. Harris’s house. She had a small yard with a rose garden and an ivy-colored trellis bordering the back of the property.

  “Hayes. I didn’t know there were any still alive. Be careful of that old hag,” she said. “Hayeses are strong. Volatile. You get close enough to one of them, they might be able to draw your fire.”

  I didn’t know what to say. No. That wasn’t true. I knew what I should have said. I should have told her everything I knew about Gemma. I should have told her about our first encounter in the woods. She’d already drawn my fire. Or rather, I’d drawn hers. My mother was right about something else. Gemma should be an old hag. Circean councils were supposed to be made up of coven elders. Unless Gemma was casting one hell of a youth spell, she didn’t fit the profile. It was one more mystery about her my heart burned to reveal.

  “You’re entering the danger zone now, Finn,” my mother said. “They’re running scared. I wouldn’t be surprised if half of them are already calling for dark magic. They’ll fight hard to protect that land. I’m counting on it.”

  “So why don’t we just drop this whole charade and ask them about the dragonstone? Seems it would be a hell of a lot simpler.”

  “Witches don’t perform that kind of spell for outsiders, Finn. Ever. They’ll only do it if it benefits them. If we have something they want badly. When this is all over, they’ll realize how lucky they were we were the ones to expose their weakness. It was far too easy to buy that land out from under them. What if a group of dark mages really was behind this? You need to trust me. This will work. It has to.”

  I walked back in the house and up to my bedroom. I kept a leather satchel under the bed. As my mother spun her wheels in my ear, I pulled the soft bag out and opened it. There, wrapped in a black velvet cloth, was the dragonstone causing all this trouble.

  To the naked eye, it looked like smooth marble. Almost opal-like. The size and rough shape of a football, it was cool to the touch. As I ran my hand over it, I felt the faintest vibration from the magic it still held. It was harmless now. But, one tiny piece of it, broken off and weaponized, was the only thing that could kill a dragon. Once again, I realized maybe my mother was right. We had to hold Durness Forest over the coven’s heads to keep them from trying to use this artifact against us.

  “It’ll be over soon,” my mother said, sensing my unease. “Then you can come home. I can’t wait for you to meet your new little niece. She’s perfect, Finn. Strong. Powerful. I never thought I’d be so happy to have a wolf shifter for a granddaughter.”

  I laughed at that. My brother Gideon’s wife, Grace, had shifter blood in her. When she mated with Gideon, a strange thing happened. When that long-dormant shifter DNA mixed with Gideon’s dragon DNA, the first female shifter in a generation had been born. It was powerful magic. One more thing my mother feared could be used against us if the wrong person found out.

  I wonder what would happen if you mix dragon and witch DNA?

  The thought slammed into my brain. It took my breath away. Lust so fierce it nearly knocked me over gripped my body.

  “Finn?” my mother asked. “You still there?”

  “I’m here,” I said, though I’d dropped the phone. “I’m glad to hear everybody’s doing so well. It’s great news. I should probably get going. I was planning to walk the property again.”

  “Be careful,” she said, her tone darkening. “I mean that. If any of them suspect what you are...Finn…”

  “They won’t,” I said, but it felt like a lie. Gemma had gotten so close. And I wanted her to get closer. I wanted to let my dragon rip out of me and let her feel the full force of my power. Fire on fire. My magic and hers.

  “Maybe I should send Loch to…”

  “No!” I nearly shouted it. Jealousy overtook me. I damn well didn’t want my brother anywhere near Gemma.

  She’s mine!

  I shook my head, trying to clear it. It was no use. I felt her magic. I felt her fire. A soft knock on the front door answered why. I didn’t need to look through the window to know that Gemma herself had just marched straight to me.

  “I’ve got to let you go,” I said. “But don’t worry. I know what I need to do.”

  My mother recognized the tone of my voice and didn’t press me any further. I said silent thanks that she was on another continent at the moment rather than in the same room with me. She would have recognized my powerful need to shift. I set the phone down and focused on breathing.

  Gemma was close. Her scent filled the room. My sense of her was becoming even stronger now. I ran a hand through my hair and opened the front door. Gemma’s back was to me, as though she’d changed her mind and meant to walk away.

  “Gemma,” I said, keeping my voice even. My eyes lasered in on every detail of her. My breath skittered across her skin as I said her name. She had tiny goosebumps along the back of her neck. She’d piled her shimmering gold hair on top of her head. She turned to face me. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips parted.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I should have called. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “You were thinking we should talk,” I said. I opened the door a little wider, inviting her in. My mother’s words echoed through me. Be careful. A Hayes can draw your fire.

  “Yes,” she said, breathless. “But maybe now isn’t such a good time. I shouldn’t have just barged in…”

  “Come in,” I said. “It’s after four. Late enough for a beer. Or a glass of wine. I have both.”

  “What? Oh. Wine. White wine. If you have it. I don’t want to put you out.”

  “You keep saying that,” I said, smiling. Gemma hesitated, then she stepped inside. “If I didn’t want to see you, I could have just not come to the door. I’m glad you came. I didn’t like how things went at the council meeting. I think you have the wrong impression of me.”

  She stood in the foyer, crossing her arms in front of her. She was scared of something. It would be easy to assume she was scared of me, but I knew that wasn’t it. She was scared of her power as she got close to me. In that instant, I realized something else about her. She was keeping this secret from the coven. If they knew what she’d done to me in the woods that first day, instinct told me she’d be in danger. As I turned to lead her to the kitchen, that protective rage swirled inside of me. If they tried to hurt h
er... I covered my hand with my mouth, faking a cough to hide the predatory growl that came out of me.

  I gestured toward the back porch. Mary Harris had an old-fashioned porch swing out there. Gemma smiled, took my meaning, and went out to wait for me as I poured the wine. She didn’t sit though. She stood staring out at the rose garden as I handed her a glass.

  “You’ve made quite an impression,” she said. “I think you know that.”

  “So have you,” I said, smiling. I enjoyed toying with her a little. I was growing to love that little flustered line she got between her eyes.

  “Mr. Brandhart,” she said. “I’m not good at this kind of thing.”

  “Oh?”

  “Negotiating. Diplomacy. Whatever you want to call it. Do you mind if I’m blunt?”

  I leaned against the railing. “I’d prefer it.”

  “What do you really want with the land your family purchased? I’ve done my homework. It’s worthless to you. You can’t build anything commercial there. It may be private land, but a lot of it is still protected.”

  I looked her up and down. Tiny beads of sweat had broken out at her temples. A pulse beat a rapid pace at the base of her throat. She wore a black tank top beneath a white silk blouse. The fabric was thin enough I could just make out her peaked nipples. Desire flooded through me. My vision wavered. In another second, she’d see the fire behind my eyes. But, her own fire simmered just below the surface.

  Gemma Hayes. A family of powerful fire mages. And she was so young.

  “How old are you?” I asked.

  She held my gaze. “I’m twenty-one. Or, I will be in a couple of weeks.”

  “Your family is gone,” I said. Puzzle pieces seemed to fall into place. It would explain why she sat on a coven council meant for family elders.

  “Yes,” she said. The answer cost her, but she gave it anyway.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I know a little about what it’s like to be somewhat alone in the world.”

  “But you’re not. I checked you out. You’ve got four brothers.”

  I smiled. “I do. But...I never knew my father. He died before I was born. It’s a lot of responsibility to carry on your shoulders, even if I don’t have to do it alone. Do you mind telling me how you lost yours?”

  She tilted her head, making a decision for herself. How much to let me in? What more would it cost her?

  “A fire,” she said. “A bad one. I was six years old. I got called away from the house or I would have been with them.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “A fire killed your parents? It sounds horrible. I’m so sorry. Forgive me though, what would you have to fear from fire?”

  Her eyes flickered. “It was...it was a special kind of fire. One I couldn’t stop. No one could.”

  Instinct took over. I went to her. I hooked a finger beneath Gemma’s chin and lifted her face until she met my eyes again. Searing heat arced between us. Her breath caught. So did mine. Her lips were so full, so inviting. I wanted to taste her. My jeans tightened and my dragon rumbled.

  “You don’t have to be afraid of me,” I said. “I’d never do anything to hurt you.” I wanted to swear a blood oath to her right then and there. In a way, I did. I just couldn’t give voice to it. But, all the same, I knew as long as I had breath in my body, I would never let anyone hurt this woman.

  “Mr. Brandhart,” she said. “I came here to tell you that it’s you who should be afraid. What you’re doing...it won’t go unchallenged. You have to know that.”

  We danced around the truth. She couldn’t admit what she was. I couldn’t either. But, her meaning was clear. The coven would try to take action against me. It’s what my mother was counting on.

  I slowly took my hand away from her face. The space between us grew cool. More than anything, I wanted to close it. I wanted to pull her into my arms and kiss her. Oh, I wanted to do a hell of a lot more than that too.

  “I think,” I said, stepping away from her, “we both have some things to decide.”

  She had finished her wine. She set it on the porch railing. “And I think I’ve stayed too long.”

  “I like you, Gemma,” I said. “I’m not the enemy your friends think I am.”

  “But you’re not an ally either,” she said. “Are you? I mean, not exactly.”

  I knew she wanted to ask me what I was again. And I so desperately wanted to show her. Her fire drew my fire. I wanted to feel it burn through me. The desire for it nearly blinded me. Somehow, I held my ground.

  Gemma went down the porch steps. She made her way to the back gate rather than going through the house. She turned and gave me a quizzical smile.

  “I’ll see you around, Mr. Brandhart,” she said. “I have a feeling we have a lot more to talk about.”

  “I look forward to it,” I said. “And call me Finn.”

  “Finn,” she said, testing the name on her lips. Oh, God, I wanted to hear her moan it as I took her in the dark. I would bring her to soaring heights. I could stretch her to the edge of every boundary she knew. For now though, I could only raise a hand and wave as she walked out of the yard.

  Chapter Eight

  Gemma

  I wanted a quiet Monday. With the gift shop closed, I planned to avoid even Delia. She hadn’t asked me outright, but she knew the Five were planning something she wouldn’t like. That should have made me want to talk to her more. Maybe she’d have some idea about how I could convince them not to do anything to Finn Brandhart we couldn’t take back. But, she knew me so well, I worried she’d sense something was wrong with me where he was concerned.

  And something was very wrong. Nearly a year ago, on my twentieth birthday, it started with just a random spark from my fingertips. One I hadn’t called forth. That had never happened to me before. Not even when I was no more than a toddler and first declared my powers to the Source.

  “That’s what makes you so special, bean,” my father had said. I had so few concrete memories of him now. Everything had just gotten so jumbled up after the night that took his and my mother’s lives.

  Fifteen years ago, dark mages had tried to steal the coven’s power. They attacked at night. If I closed my eyes, I could still see the white flame enveloping my house on Winter Street. Jonas had held me back. I was six. He was sixteen. My father had sent me running to the Landry's house for safety. The whole time, I couldn’t stop myself from thinking it was all my fault. If only I’d stayed at the house with my parents. If only I hadn’t listened when my father told me to run.

  “It’s no good, you know,” Delia’s paper-thin voice startled me out of my thoughts. I stood in the kitchen, finishing the last of my coffee. She’d come downstairs wearing a flowing, white cotton nightgown. She owned a dozen of them and it was the only thing she wore unless the store was open. Her bare feet poked out of the bottom. She had freshly painted toenails, cherry red.

  I put my cup in the sink. “What are you doing up? It’s not even nine o’clock?” I’d hoped to leave the house before she came down. Hell, most of the time, when the store was closed she didn’t come down at all.

  She leaned on a polished ebony cane and came toward me. Her smile was kind, but there was a seriousness to her eyes. She put a hand on my arm. “You’re not sleeping. And you’re not casting, either. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

  “I’ve just been busy,” I said. “Haven’t had time to practice. And with this Brandhart drama…”

  “Stop it,” she said. “You know you’re just like your father. Always thinking you don’t need any help or that you know best. I’ve kept my tongue and minded my business. But you’re not fooling me. Remember that.”

  She pointed a crooked finger at me but said no more. Instead, she turned and waddled out into the living room. I knew Delia well enough to know she’d likely say nothing else on the subject. But, she was always watching.

  I gripped the sink and let out a sigh. Just like my father. Never asking for help. Always thinking he knew best. What she didn’
t say is that’s likely what got him and my mother killed. He thought he could handle our attackers by himself. He thought he could protect me and the rest of the coven. I suppose he did in his own way. Except, his actions had made it so I had to live my life without him.

  “To hell with this,” I muttered, washing the last remnants of coffee out of my cup. The sky was clear, no ominous clouds in the sky. It was a perfect day to act normal. Before that forest belonged to Finn Brandhart or anyone else, I might as well take advantage of it.

  Delia had already dozed off in her favorite chair as I went out the front door. I didn’t look back, but wouldn’t have been surprised to see her open one wary eye as I left. For once, I was glad she couldn’t easily follow me anymore. Then, I felt immediately guilty for the thought.

  The woods were unnaturally quiet as I veered off the marked paths leading from the town square. I couldn’t sense wildlife as well as the earth mages could, but it was unusual not to kick up even a squirrel as I hiked toward the waterfall. I hit a pocket of heat as I made my way through the clearing. That too was strange, here under the thick canopy of trees, I expected the air to cool. It was almost as if the forest itself knew I planned to harness some heat.

  I reached the edge of the stream. A breeze picked up, rustling the leaves. I lifted my chin and closed my eyes, letting the bright sun hit me full in the face. White heat. The purest essence of my power. I felt the rumble of electricity through my veins as I reached for the Source.

  I don’t know how I did it. It’s not something easily described. The Source is always there, waiting to be tapped and channeled. A hub. I was a spoke on the wheel. Fire called to me and I gave it back. Push, pull. A widening circle. Wind mages tap the air. If I were a water mage, the stream would bubble up around me. Earth mages feed off the roots of the trees, each one connected to the next. A vast network covering the whole world.

  It should have come easy. The air should have charged as I gathered my strength. Then, I should have been able to channel it back the way I chose. Just a spark. That’s all I was after. Igniting a dead branch lying next to the shore. I felt the sizzle, then a bolt of heat shot through me, knocking me to the ground.