Firestorm Forever: A Dragonfire Novel

by Deborah Cooke

  He could guess.

  Lorenzo ended his call and came to greet them. The satisfaction that Erik thought he’d detected over the phone was obvious now that they stood face to face.

  “What are you scheming?” Erik demanded.

  Lorenzo smiled. “Scheming?” He turned to Cassie. “Do I scheme?”

  “Of course you do,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “It might be your best trick.”

  “How so?”

  “Because you usually anticipate everything.”

  Lorenzo’s eyes lit with delight at that response.

  Cassie then addressed Eileen. “Coffee? Iced tea? What can I get you?” The two women walked together, Zoë following, and Eileen admired the boys and the house.

  “What then?” Erik asked in old-speak.

  “You won’t like it. You never approve of anything truly audacious.”

  Erik’s sense of foreboding grew. “While you never seem to understand the merit of restraint.”

  “When we’re fighting for our survival and that of our sons?” Lorenzo’s eyes glittered. “Restraint has no part in that battle.”

  “And that’s why you’re back?”

  “I’m back to do my part,” Lorenzo said flatly.

  “But on your own terms,” Erik guessed.

  Lorenzo smiled. He pulled a business card from his pocket and flicked the corner of it before handing it to Erik. “I’m giving an exclusive interview tomorrow. You might have heard of the journalist in question.”

  “Maeve O’Neill?” Erik was appalled. “She’s determined to show us in bad light and turn public opinion against us…”

  “Which is why she needs to change her mind.” Lorenzo opened his eyes wide, feigning innocence. “I thought I could help.”

  Erik sat down hard, once again having the sense that matters were spinning out of his control in Lorenzo’s presence. “Wait a minute. What am I missing? Why is she interviewing you?”

  Lorenzo sat down beside him. “Because Cassie offered to get her an exclusive interview with the Pyr she photographed in the desert while he shifted shape.”

  Erik couldn’t summon a word for a moment. “But that was you!”

  Lorenzo waved a hand. “Ergo, my interview with Maeve.”

  “But how are you going to do it? In which form?” Erik pushed to his feet again, guessing the answer. “Are you going to break the Covenant and reveal your human identity to her? In front of a camera?”

  “Yes,” Lorenzo said easily. He laughed at Erik’s shock. “I had to offer something juicy for her to even show up.”

  “But this is outrageous and a violation of every…” Erik began to roar. Cassie and Eileen looked back at the two Pyr.

  “I’m going to beguile her,” Lorenzo said, interrupting Erik flatly. “I’m not that careless.”

  “How do you know that you can?”

  Lorenzo scoffed. “Because I’m the best.”

  Erik exhaled, glared across the pool then back at Lorenzo, who smiled at him with a serenity Erik didn’t share. “It’s risky.”

  “That’s what I like about this plan.”

  “You could reveal us all!”

  “But I won’t.” Lorenzo shrugged. “Maybe we should have prosecco with lunch. Cassie? What do you think?”

  Erik shook the business card under Lorenzo’s nose. “Don’t you smell Slayer on this? Don’t you smell Jorge? If she’s in alliance with him, this could be a trap.”

  “I hope it is,” Lorenzo replied with a confidence Erik didn’t share. “I’d like nothing better than to go talon to talon with Jorge.” His eyes glimmered. “Just think. I could be the one to wipe the last Slayer from the face of the planet. It would look good in lights, don’t you think?”

  With that, Erik knew he wouldn’t change Lorenzo’s mind.

  Lorenzo meanwhile popped the cork and poured four glasses of prosecco. He held his up so the bubbles caught the sunlight and saluted them all with characteristic confidence. “To our health, our triumph, and our future as guardians of the earth,” he said, lifting the glass with a flourish.

  Erik drank the toast, hoping it wasn’t the last drink he ever shared with this infuriating Pyr.

  He knew better than to expect that Lorenzo would ever change.

  * * *

  Sloane and Sam worked together in charged silence, day after day.

  She could feel his controlled fury, but didn’t really know what else he expected of her. A dragon shifter had infected her only son with a virus that had ended his life too soon, a virus that was ending lives all over the world. Sam had no kindness in her heart for dragon shifters, no matter what label they gave themselves.

  Maybe Sloane had no expectations.

  Or maybe he didn’t have any expectations of her any more.

  The thing was that she had lots of feelings for Sloane. Sam found herself slanting glances at him as they worked side by side in his lab, and hated that even in protective gear, he was the sexiest man she’d ever known. When he cast her a simmering glance, or asked for help in that measured tone, she couldn’t believe how powerful his effect upon her still was.

  She wanted Sloane, in every possible way.

  It was crazy, but it was true. Even knowing what he was, she wanted to be with him. She was really glad to be back in California and at least to see him daily, even though their conversations were terse and focused on the research. She could have revealed him and shared his secret, and he hadn’t demanded her silence, but she couldn’t expose him. Her reaction was illogical and conflicted, even though Sam had never been illogical in her life.

  That she wanted to be more illogical and jump his bones until he begged for mercy might just be a sign that she was losing it. She was pretty sure she wouldn’t feel conflicted about doing that.

  Maybe that was the danger.

  They worked together for the first third of the day, comparing notes, analyzing results and making plans for new strategies. Then they worked in shifts, each alone in the lab for a third of the day while the other slept, ate, and revived a little. They were long days, but there was little choice. Sam read the account in Thucydides over and over again, then researched that plague online. Medical scholars were divided as to what it had been. A variant of plague, but without buboes? A kind of typhus with different lesions? Perhaps the scholars who said it had mutated itself out of existence were right—except that it was back and killing again.

  No wonder humans had no antibodies or resistance to it. It might as well have come from Mars.

  Sam found herself consulting the various books in Sloane’s extensive library, reading in bed, eating very little. There had been a lot of speculation about the disease documented in Thucydides’ book, but there was no clear conclusion. She spoke to Drake about it, but he hadn’t actually developed the illness. He’d seen it but the symptoms he reported were similar to those in the book.

  Lee, the man she’d met on the road and offered a ride, was also staying at the house. He had taken charge of the kitchen. Sam felt a little bit guilty that she forgot to eat regularly, as was typical when she was trying to solve a riddle, and often reheated his beautifully prepared meals in the microwave. He wasn’t much for talking, but the house was always filled with the sounds of his work. Was he another dragon shifter? Sam didn’t know and didn’t want to. His wholesome cooking was helping Veronica to heal and that was a good thing.

  Were they all dragon shifters?

  When Sam did lie awake, she thought about dragon shifters, good and bad, and had to admit that there was merit in Sloane’s argument. She often woke up in bed in the spare room that she was using, even though she’d fallen asleep on the couch, or found a meal left for her in the kitchen.

  It was Drake who finally broke the tension between herself and Sloane.

  “You are vexed with him,” Drake said softly. He was leaning on the glass divider between the house and the conservatory when Sam entered the kitchen one morning.

  If he was going
to be blunt, Sam could play that game. “He didn’t tell me the truth.”

  “You did not confess all of yours, either,” the other man observed, no accusation in his tone.

  “That’s different,” Sam said and took a sip of coffee.

  Drake watched her steadily. “There is much you do not understand about our kind.”

  “And I hope I never know it. As soon as she’s healed, I’m out of here.”

  Drake shook his head. “There is too much heat in your words for that to be true.” Sam might have protested, but he held up a hand. “You speak like a woman spurned, not one who has been told less than the whole story.”

  Sam had to admit that there was truth in that, but she wouldn’t admit it aloud. Instead she sipped her coffee and waited.

  “I will guess that Sloane offered both more than you desired and less,” the older man continued. “As is often the way of our kind. The issue is that there is no firestorm between the two of you, and that restricts his choices.” Drake shrugged. “At least, it restricts the choices of a man with any honor in his soul.”

  While Sam liked that character reference, she was confused. “I don’t understand.”

  “No, but you will. Let me tell you about the firestorm.” Drake gestured and Sam pulled out a stool, guessing that this might take a while. She leaned against the glass on her side, while Drake was close on the other.

  Lee had made croissants fresh that morning, and just this once, Sam treated herself to two as she listened to Drake.

  * * *

  Chandra dreamed.

  She dreamed that she became Snow, that she flew through mist with the bird’s agility and confidence. She saw jagged green peaks snared in fog and heard the sound of dripping water. She smelled lush vegetation and heard the screams of parrots just before the mist suddenly cleared.

  The parrots flew past in a massive flock, an explosion of color against the green of the jungle. She soared high, then dipped between mountain peaks, coasting over a city made of fitted stone. It was perched in the mountains and moonlight fell upon the stones.

  Chandra awakened abruptly, finding herself jostled against Thorolf in a rental van. She could taste blood and chocolate and was a bit disoriented to find herself back in her own form again. Raynor slept contently in a car seat beside her, already showing an ease with travel that impressed her.

  They were hunting dragon eggs in the area that the next eclipse would be visible. They’d started in Chile, thinking there might be a connection with the Easter Island site and had been driving northward with no clues and no luck.

  Until now.

  Brandon and Liz were on a boat, doing the same thing but starting at Easter Island.

  “They’re at a ruin in the jungle,” Chandra said. “Like a hidden city. Snow just showed me.”

  “What kind of jungle? What kind of city?” Thorolf asked with excitement. “Could you draw it?”

  He pulled over and Chandra drew the sight from her dream as well as she could. “It was misty and very lush. I could hear water dripping, and a river too.”

  “Wait a minute,” Thorolf said, snapping his fingers. “Didn’t this all start at Machu Picchu?”

  Chandra looked up, confused. “What do you mean?”

  “The Dragon Tail Wars,” he said with visible excitement. “Quinn’s firestorm was first, after the moon changed nodes. I remember he said that Ambrose—”

  “Who?”

  “Dead Slayer.” Thorolf said dismissively, then continued. “Ambrose had targeted Sara and her parents while they were on vacation, right after the node changed. They had a car accident on their way to Machu Picchu and were burned to death.”

  “And Sara?”

  “She’d cancelled at the last minute so they went without her. He was targeting her, trying to stop the Smith’s firestorm before it began.” Thorolf tapped at his phone, and against all expectation, there was an internet connection. “Is that it?” He showed her an image of Machu Picchu and Chandra caught her breath.

  “Yes.”

  “Then we have a destination.” He handed her the phone. “Can you call Erik? We’ve got a lot of driving to do, and we might as well take advantage of the connection. It probably won’t last.”

  * * *

  One opportunity to conceive a child.

  One destined mate, even though the Pyr could live for centuries or even millennia.

  It was incredible. Sam stared into her coffee, thinking about Drake’s confession. She couldn’t imagine how someone would wait for the firestorm, given that the Pyr could live for so long.

  On the other hand, she had to think that it would be great to have such a clear signal as the sparks of a firestorm. She wanted to see one, just to observe its effects. She wanted to feel one.

  But at the end of it all, she respected what Drake was telling her about Sloane. The good Pyr made permanent relationships with their destined mates, after those mates were identified by the firestorm. They ensured that their sons had solid homes and that their mates were defended from harm.

  This explained Drake’s devotion to Veronica: she was his destined mate, and they’d had a firestorm. They’d satisfied it and she was carrying his child. He’d known the result from the sight of the first spark and had known that the baby would be a boy.

  Also that the boy would develop Pyr traits at puberty.

  Drake intended to stick around for the duration, which Sam admired.

  But Sloane hadn’t had a firestorm.

  And when he did, he would choose as Drake had chosen. He would commit to his destined mate and to his son. His firestorm could spark in a week or in a century, but when it did, its importance would trump any relationship he had at the time.

  But Drake had said that there was a prophecy that only Pyr or Slayers would survive the last blood moon in the Dragon’s Tail of the moon’s node. Sloane had to be hoping that his firestorm would spark in the next few months.

  Otherwise, it might not spark at all.

  He might not even survive.

  None of them might survive. The prospect made Sam feel a bit sick. What if Veronica survived all of this only to lose the man she loved and the son she was carrying? What if Sloane was killed? Whether or not he was with Sam, she wished him well.

  She wanted him to be alive and well somewhere in the world.

  The truth was that his dragon nature was less important to her than she’d believed.

  Sloane wasn’t promising what he couldn’t deliver, and Sam had to respect that.

  On the day that they’d parted, she’d hoped he might leave an opening for them to get together again. When he hadn’t, she assumed her feelings weren’t reciprocated.

  But that wasn’t it. Not necessarily.

  It was honorable of Sloane to decline to deepen the relationship if he feared he couldn’t see it through. She admired him for his restraint and wished she hadn’t spoken to him so harshly. He had helped her to heal, to begin her life again after her complete meltdown, and she owed him more than she’d given him.

  Even if they had no real future.

  Drake had suggested she watch the video footage of the eclipse over Australia, because he said it showed a Pyr experiencing his firestorm. The golden light that burned between the dark dragon and the woman he snatched from the talons of the other dragon was amazing. The image was blurry and taken in poor lighting from a distance. The woman’s features were impossible to see, and Sam wondered whether she might have walked past her in the street.

  But the topaz and gold dragon was more than familiar.

  As was his ferocity.

  Sam watched it repeatedly, unable to deny that the fighting dragons were clearly on two sides. Did she dare to believe that Sloane and his allies, the Pyr, hated this gold dragon as much as she did?

  Could she and Sloane defeat the plan this dragon had put in motion, if they worked more closely together?

  It was more than worth a try.

  * * *

  Sam
felt Sloane come into the kitchen, his presence as evident to her as a crackle of electricity. If this was just sexual attraction to a dragon shifter, the firestorm must be an incredible feeling.

  “Planning to get any work done today?” he asked, a thread of impatience in his tone.

  She spun to face him, letting him see what was on her laptop screen. “Drake told me about the firestorm.”

  Sloane’s lips tightened in disapproval. “Did he?”

  Sam knew she deserved his tone, but she wanted to start fresh. “What do you think it’s like?”

  “I expect it’s amazing. I’ve only felt it second-hand, and even that’s electrifying.”

  Sam watched him pour a cup of coffee. “What will happen to the Pyr’s children, if you don’t win?”

  Sloane looked bleak. “I’m not sure. The oldest of this generation just turned seven. I doubt he’ll have the chance to come into his powers at puberty, not if all the adult Pyr are gone. No Slayer would allow that.”

  His exhaustion touched her heart. “How old are you?”

  Sloane took a slow breath and exhaled, his gaze darting over the kitchen then back to her. “I was born in 1655. My father, unlike many of the Pyr, kept precise records.” He lifted a brow. “I’m a Scorpio.”

  Sam swallowed a smile. “Life and death, mystery, healing, secrets. I think even I might have guessed that,” she teased and was rewarded with the brief flash of his smile. She sobered as she watched him stir his coffee. “What’s it like, waiting for a firestorm?”

  “Lonely,” Sloane said. He lifted his gaze to hers. “What’s it like, being unable to help your son survive?”

  Sam’s throat tightened so much that she could scarcely take a breath. “It’s hell,” she admitted. “It casts everything into doubt and leaves you second-guessing every decision.” She turned her mug on the counter. “Did you know about Nathaniel from the very start?”

  Sloane leaned his hip against the counter. “I knew you were hurting. When I found the picture, I recognized him. That smile could light the universe.”

  “Yes,” Sam agreed. “It lit mine.”

  Sloane’s voice softened in a way that made her want to fling herself into his arms. “I’m sorry, Sam. No parent should have to go through that.”