Kiss of Fate

by Deborah Cooke

  “Why do you do it so quickly?” she asked. “I’d like to really see the change.”

  He spared her a wry look. “It is a sight known to drive humans to madness.”

  “I’d still like to see it.”

  “Forgive me if I don’t indulge you.” He sounded gruff, but Eileen had seen the flash in his eyes. It wasn’t all bad that he was protective of her.

  But she still wanted to see. One of these days she’d change his mind.

  One of these days. There she went, trusting in a future.

  She couldn’t deny that she liked the sound of it.

  Erik turned his gaze skyward and Eileen followed his glance, watching as two dragons descended toward the roof. The first was a radiant purple. His scales could have been made of amethysts and edged in silver. He landed beside Erik, spared a glance at her, and shifted with the same speed Erik had. In human form, he was a muscular blond man. He stepped forward and shook hands with Erik, and Eileen heard that rumble of distant thunder again.

  “More old-speak,” she said, disliking that she wouldn’t be able to hear or understand their consultation.

  Erik nodded slightly, then began to smile. “You’d prefer that we spoke at a frequency you could hear.”

  “I’m a part of this. I want to hear what’s going on.”

  The other Pyr might have argued, but Erik reached a hand toward Eileen. The spark that lit between their hands and made her sizzle to her toes presumably told the new arrival everything he needed to know. He bit his tongue, nodded once, then offered his hand to Eileen.

  “Niall Talbot,” he said, his American accent a welcome familiarity. His grip was warm and his gaze was steady, but he sent no shivers through her.

  At least she wasn’t just a potential mate or a general possibility of a mate.

  She was Erik’s mate.

  Again.

  Niall looked up and winced. His exasperation was almost comical. The third dragon was circling the house, and now that Eileen paid attention to him, she noticed that his flying style wasn’t very graceful.

  He was swearing with a creativity and enthusiasm that made her eyes widen.

  He also glimmered with a silvery sheen in the rain. His scales were pale like rainwater and reminded Eileen of moonstones set in silver. He might have looked ethereal if he hadn’t been so large and muscular, and so vocal in his discontent.

  “I found him in New York,” Niall said with disgust. “He’s never met any of his own kind. He can’t speak old-speak, although he can hear it. His flying and shifting skills need serious work. He felt the Dragon’s Egg break, though, felt it so strongly that it knocked him on his ass.”

  “And he is Pyr, of ancient and noble lineage,” Erik breathed. His eyes glittered like gems in the darkness as he watched the agitated dragon.

  Niall blinked. “Do you know him?”

  “Son of Thorvald, who was son of Thorkel,” Erik cried instead of answering Niall. “Are you not Pyr? Are you not as fearless as your forebears? Has Thorkel’s line diminished to cowardice?”

  The wings of the dragon in the sky missed a beat and he dropped a dozen feet. “What? How do you know my father’s name?” He looked insulted to Eileen.

  “How far has the spark fallen from the blaze?” Erik demanded, ignoring the question. He pointed imperiously to the rooftop. “Here. Now.”

  “It’s not cowardly to save your own skin. . . .”

  “You are the spawn of warriors,” Erik snapped. “We were the drakkir. We were invincible and fearsome. We were the mascots of the Viking raiders and they carved their ships in our likeness in homage to our power. We feared not man or beast, not elements foul or even death.” He pointed again at the ridgepole. “Prove that you are worthy of your lineage, worm.”

  “Or what?”

  Erik spit toward the garden. “Or return to whatever rock you have hidden beneath for all your days and nights.”

  “Hey, I didn’t hide—”

  Erik interrupted the silvery dragon. “I should have smelled you. I should have known of your presence. I should have heard your name in my dreams. I should have known that there was a living shard of Thorkel’s talon.”

  “What, are you psychic or something?”

  Erik straightened with pride. “I am Erik Sorensson, leader of the Pyr. I knew your grandfather. That I did not have any idea of your existence means that you denied your legacy.” Eileen heard his disapproval. “You cowered, to your forebears’ eternal shame.”

  “Maybe you just missed the memo.”

  “Maybe you should prove your worth while you have the chance,” Niall muttered.

  The airborne dragon exhaled in a low hiss of smoke and eyed the roof with obvious doubt. Erik didn’t move, his stance sure. Eileen hung on to the chimney and thought about what she’d just overheard.

  Erik had said before that he was Viking. If he’d been a mascot for the Viking raiding ships, she had a good idea how—and when—he’d come to England.

  It made sense that he’d picked up a British accent in a thousand years or so.

  The silvery dragon swore with new vigor, then stretched his talons toward the roof. “Here goes nothing,” he muttered.

  Niall took a step toward the opposite chimney, his trepidation clear. “This isn’t going to be pretty,” he warned softly.

  It wasn’t.

  The silvery Pyr landed heavily. He failed to get a grip with his claws, swore thoroughly, and in his terror, shifted back to human form. He was tall and blond, built like a Viking raider, or a bouncer for a busy bar.

  His eyes widened as he snatched at the roof without success and began to slide. He loosed a string of expletives as he scrabbled for a grip, slipping toward the gutters with alarming speed.

  Erik shifted shape in the blink of an eye, snatched up the terrified man, and deposited him on the summit of the roof. He hovered over the man until he managed to grasp the chimney beside Eileen, then shifted back to human form.

  Erik stood in the middle of the roof and eyed the new arrival, who was still breathing quickly in his fear. Niall, at the opposite end of the roof, rolled his eyes with dismay.

  The new arrival locked his arms around the chimney and hung on. Eileen was amused by his terror. She also understood that Erik had placed the new arrival here only because he trusted him.

  He might be trying to provoke the silver Pyr into embracing his powers, but he was certain that he wouldn’t hurt Eileen. That was quite a vote of confidence.

  “You couldn’t just meet on the ground somewhere?” he asked. Eileen could see that he was shaking. He pushed a hand through his wet hair and spared her a glance, cursing under his breath as he eyed the distance to the ground.

  “You are lucky that I was so fond of your grandfather,” Erik said, subtly reminding the younger Pyr of his manners.

  “Say, ‘Thank you very much, Erik,’ ” Eileen whispered.

  “Right. Thanks, dude. Don’t mind if I don’t shake hands. I’ll just hold on to this chimney here.”

  “Do you have a name?” Erik asked.

  “My friends call me T.”

  “T?” Erik couldn’t disguise his distaste. “Your name is T ?”

  “As in teetotaler,” Niall said, and chuckled.

  The tall, tattooed man beside Eileen blushed scarlet. She could see the redness of his face even in the darkness. He even shuffled his feet a bit. “Well, no, not really, but my real name is weird.”

  Erik’s expression was cold. His features could have been carved of stone.

  “I’m thinking that your real name is the way to go in present company,” Eileen murmured.

  The new arrival flashed her a smile, showing a measure of charm now that he wasn’t terrified. “No kidding.” He cleared his throat. “How about Thorpe? That’s pretty close and I can live with it. . . .”

  “What name did your father bestow upon you?” Erik demanded.

  The man beside Eileen swallowed. “Well, I—”

  “Wha
t name?”

  The new arrival looked down, then across the garden. He couldn’t evade Erik’s stare for long, though. “Thorolf,” he finally admitted. He winced and nudged Eileen, evidently thinking she was an ally. “Weird, don’t you think?”

  “It’s old, though,” Eileen said. “Old names are strong.”

  “Thanks a lot.”

  “It’s ancient,” Erik interjected. “As is the word weird, and of similar origin. You were named Thor’s Wolf, servant of the god who is foretold to slaughter Jormungand, the World Serpent, at Ragnorak. A weighty legacy, perhaps too weighty for one who chooses to be named T.”

  There was a silence then, one punctuated only by Niall’s chuckle. Eileen wondered whether Erik would manage to awaken Thorolf to his own capabilities. The pair glared at each other; then Thorolf looked at the ground with obvious trepidation.

  Erik immediately turned to Niall, ignoring the new Pyr completely. Eileen heard the rumble of thunder and she understood that he and Niall were conferring. She watched Thorolf’s eyes widen as he overheard the conversation. He muttered something about things getting too bizarre and turned to her.

  “Your sister’s place, huh?” he asked, glancing down. “So, you’re not Pyr?”

  “It’s a guy thing, from what I understand.”

  He nodded. “Then how’d you get into this?”

  “The firestorm.” Eileen smiled, finding it funny that she was instructing a Pyr on his own legacy. “I’m Erik’s destined mate. And I had the Dragon’s Teeth, too.”

  “Right.” Thorolf clearly didn’t follow all of that, which amused Eileen. She could see from his narrowed eyes that he was listening to the old-speak again.

  She wished she knew what Erik and Niall were saying, but she could guess that Erik was bringing Niall up-to-date. She assumed that he was assigning the other Pyr to protect Lynne and her family. That would be something Erik would do.

  His protectiveness was a trait she appreciated, especially given the powers of the Slayers.

  She adjusted her stance and something jabbed into her side. There shouldn’t be anything in her pockets, except maybe a tissue. Eileen reached down and discovered that there was something hard tucked into the inner pocket of her coat.

  What had she left there? It was too big for a candy and too square to be a knitting needle.

  It was a stone.

  No, it was too flat for that. It could have been a Scrabble tile, but bigger and rounder. Its edges were roughly hewn, like it had been chiseled from stone. It was black and its two faces gleamed in the rain.

  There was a carving on one side, an image that looked like a wheel. Eileen angled it, trying to catch the light from the streetlights so she could see it better. The wheel had eight spokes, and each terminated in what looked a lot like a fork. She turned it over but the other side was just smooth.

  She’d never seen it before. Where had it come from?

  “Whoa! Awesome!” Thorolf said with enthusiasm. Eileen glanced up to find him grinning at her. “Get it?”

  “Get what?”

  “That’s the Helm of Awe. It’s awesome.” He laughed at his own joke, but Eileen frowned.

  “What’s the Helm of Awe?”

  He stopped laughing. “You don’t know? It’s a symbol, made of runes. The old name is Aegishjalmur.” He kept a tight grip on the chimney with his left arm, then used his right hand to shove up his sleeve. He had a tattoo on his left biceps of exactly the same image. “That’s Elhaz,” he said, pointing to the fork part. “A protective rune.”

  “So eight are even more protective,” Eileen mused.

  “The Vikings used to make little ones of lead and stick them on their foreheads when they went into battle.” He shrugged. “I wanted to get the tattoo on my forehead, but Rox said it would look stupid.”

  Eileen remembered Sigmund moving beneath her coat and could make a guess where the runestone had come from. It sounded as if he might have been a person who had an interest in talismans.

  She glanced up at Thorolf. “Who’s Rox?”

  He frowned and she guessed he’d twist the truth. “My, uh, sister. Yeah. Sister.” He watched the Pyr. “Just a day ago I thought she was the biggest pain in the butt ever. Who knew?”

  Eileen would have bet that Rox was his girlfriend, but it didn’t matter. She could tell that Thorolf was listening to the old-speak again, because he swore beneath his breath.

  “What?”

  “These bad dudes can cut smoke?” he asked, incredulous. “I can’t even make smoke yet and these Slayers move right through it?”

  “That’s what I hear.”

  “That’s bad news.” Thorolf shook his head, then tapped the runestone with a heavy finger. “You’d better keep that if you’re going to hang out with Erik. There’s shit coming down. I can smell it.”

  “What, are you psychic?” Eileen teased.

  “No.” Thorolf laughed. “I’ve just been taking care of myself for a long time. If you want to survive, you’ve got to be able to guess which way the wind is turning.” He fixed her with a bright look. “Keep that safe. It’s important.”

  “Good plan.” Eileen put the runestone back in her pocket. Even though she couldn’t see the future herself, she was pretty sure that Thorolf’s instincts were right on the money.

  Erik was relieved. The battle was far from won and many challenges lay ahead. The sacrifice that fulfilled the prophecy had yet to be made and his ability to see the future was still MIA. He had a keen sense, though, that his luck had changed for the better, and with it the fortunes of all the Pyr.

  Eileen had arranged for the Dragon’s Teeth to be delivered to Rafferty. Niall had been en route to England when Erik needed someone to guard Eileen’s sister and her family, to ensure both that the Dragon’s Teeth were delivered and that the humans were kept safe during the transaction. Thorkel’s line had not been extinguished after all, which was a wonderful revelation, one that gave Erik great hope for the future.

  Erik felt lighter than he had in years, less burdened by bad choices of the past.

  And he knew that the change was because of Eileen.

  He dared to think about the future, his own future.

  Erik wondered whether his old friend Thierry had been right, that a Pyr who committed to his mate during his firestorm could become stronger than he would have been otherwise.

  The alternative was that Eileen truly was like a Valkyrie, but one dispatched by the Great Wyvern to collect the divine spark that was resident within him. She could be unconsciously aiding him to clean up the debts and imbalances of his life, before he was sacrificed for the greater good of the Pyr.

  Perhaps it didn’t matter whether he understood his fate or not, as the Great Wyvern held his destiny in her hand.

  Once he had warned Niall sufficiently of the dangers ahead and ensured that the younger Pyr understood his task, Erik strode across the roof to where Eileen stood with Thorolf. The young Pyr watched Erik warily while Eileen smiled.

  Even her smile didn’t hide that she was pale and shivering with the cold, though. Erik offered her his hand, watching the younger Pyr observe the crackle of fire between their hands. He caught her fingers tightly within his own and drew her close to his side. Thorolf’s eyes widened at the brilliant glow of the firestorm, which burned brightest and hottest at their points of contact.

  The heat surged through Erik’s veins, warming him to his very core and lighting a blaze of desire. He caught Eileen around the waist and held her close, heard her quick intake of breath and felt the acceleration of her pulse. He smiled as his body matched its rhythms to hers, the pulse of two hearts in unison making him feel stronger.

  “You will remain with Niall,” Erik told the younger Pyr, speaking aloud for Eileen’s benefit. “And protect the family of my mate. You will do as you are bidden and you will learn what you are taught.”

  “Hey, I don’t have to do anything—”

  “Of course you do,” Eileen interjecte
d. “Don’t you want to know what you are and what you can do?”

  Thorolf flushed and dropped his gaze.

  “Don’t you want to help kick the butt of those Slayers who cut smoke?” she asked in her teacher voice.

  Thorolf lifted his head. “No one ever told me about these Slayers. How do I know which team is the good guys?”

  His implication was as clear as his ignorance.

  Erik exhaled. He felt the press of time, but knew he had to persuade the younger Pyr to join their ranks. How could Thorolf have learned of Pyr lore? His father had died centuries ago, after all. Had the boy been alone all this time? If he had been an infant at the time of his father’s death, there would have been no one to instruct him.

  Later, there would be time to learn his tale. In this moment, Erik had to return to Chicago while leaving Eileen’s family protected.

  Which meant gaining Thorolf’s allegiance quickly.

  “Fly with me,” Erik invited, “and I shall tell you what you need to know to make your choice.”

  Thorolf grimaced and Erik was sure the younger Pyr was tired. But he changed shape and took flight all the same, which showed the depth of his desire for knowledge.

  “Nothing like a story,” Eileen said with a smile. Erik caught her close and leapt off the roof, shifting shape in midair. She gasped and hung on tightly to him, laughing as they moved through the wind. The rain beaded on her lashes and the wind made her eyes sparkle. She nestled against him with satisfaction, apparently enjoying the firestorm’s heat as much as he did.

  “I’m starting to get hooked on this stuff,” she said, staring down as the city fell away beneath them. When Erik flew through the clouds with Thorolf at his side, Eileen laid her cheek against his chest with relief. “No more rain,” she said with a sigh.

  “Not for the moment anyway.”

  “You promised to tell me what was going on,” Thorolf complained.

  “And so I did.” Erik cleared his throat as he flew. “In the beginning, there was the fire, and the fire burned hot because it was cradled by the earth. The fire burned bright because it was nurtured by the air. The fire burned lower only when it was quenched by the water. And these were the four elements of divine design, of which all would be built and with which all would be destroyed. And the elements were placed at the cornerstones of the material world and it was good.”