Fire Maidens: Paris

by Anna Lowe

  A deep scowl made it clear Jacqueline didn’t entirely agree.

  “In any case,” Clara went on, “the bloodline thinned over time. Some of Liviana’s descendants mixed with humans or other shifter species.”

  Jacqueline made a scoffing sound.

  “Yes, plain old humans, as I once was. Imagine that.” Clara winked. “Others left the cities, and consequently, their power waned. For a few generations, the residual power continued to protect the city from strife.”

  “When was the last time Paris had a Fire Maiden?” Natalie asked.

  “After the Second World War,” Clara said. “Amelie. She helped Europe rise from the ashes and rebuild partnerships. But she didn’t have any children, and Paris has been without a Fire Maiden since then.”

  Clara’s eyes drifted to Natalie then moved away again.

  Natalie gulped. Her middle name was Amelie. Another coincidence?

  “For a time, Alaric managed without a Fire Maiden, thanks to Hugo’s support and alliances with Morfram and Albiorix,” Clara said. “Lord knows we’ve done our best.”

  Her weary face said more than her words, and Natalie remembered the heavy bags under Alaric’s eyes. Maybe he wasn’t so much a tyrant as an overworked man doing his best to shoulder overwhelming responsibilities.

  “But we’re getting older.” Clara sighed. “And, frankly, we thought we’d have someone to pass the torch to by now. You know, so we could enjoy a quiet retirement…”

  Clara flashed a sentimental smile, and Natalie pictured her and Hugo on a sunny farm in the south of France. Alaric, she could imagine in a remote castle at the edge of the Alps, and gargoyles would probably find themselves a medieval church somewhere far from the tourist crowds of Notre Dame. How vampires retired, she had no idea. Hopefully, they went somewhere far, far away.

  But fitting herself into that equation, she just couldn’t do. Tristan, on the other hand, struck her as the perfect successor to Alaric, especially if the older dragon mentored him for a few years. Tristan had all the makings of a great leader, even if he was too modest to suggest as much.

  But as for her… She was a foreigner. A human. A nobody.

  “I am the least royal person I know, and my family is beyond ordinary. I wish I could help, but you must have the wrong person. I’m just me.”

  She looked out the window. In some ways, she wanted nothing to do with the supernatural world. But Tristan was part of that world, and her heart ached at the prospect of parting. How exactly would that go? Would he see her off at the airport if she decided to return to North America?

  Well, thanks for saving me from vampires, she would whisper.

  My pleasure, he’d rumble.

  Their eyes would meet, and time would slow down, as it always did when they got close. Her breath would hitch, as would his. And then—

  She frowned, imagining the Last Call announcement being made for her flight.

  Bye, she’d whisper. Take care.

  Three little words. A world of heartache.

  You too, Tristan would say, slowly releasing her hands. The warmth of his touch would fade away, as would the hope in her soul. Somehow, she would have to force herself to board a plane and to say goodbye forever — not just to the man, but to Paris, too. Goodbye to her dream of living in the City of Lights.

  Clara stirred her tea, and the quiet tap of her spoon against the china pulled Natalie back to the present.

  “The wrong person? I think not.” Clara pointed to the crystal around Natalie’s neck. “May I?”

  Slowly, Natalie pulled off the necklace, confused.

  “You see?” Clara lifted the crystal, turning it this way and that in the shaft of light streaming through the window.

  Of course, I see, Natalie nearly said. But the crystal that had been so bright a moment earlier dimmed in Clara’s hands. Surely, that was just the way she held it, though.

  Regardless of the angle, however, the glow was gone. But the moment Clara pushed the crystal into Natalie’s hands, it glowed brightly again.

  “It only shines for you, my dear.” Clara stopped the housekeeper who had come in to check on the tea. “Marie, can you take this for a moment?” Clara rolled the crystal into the woman’s hand, then pointed. “Again, nothing. It doesn’t shine for anyone but you.” She held the crystal out to the only other person in the room. “Care to demonstrate, Jacqueline?”

  Jacqueline folded her dainty features into a deep scowl.

  “Take it.” Clara’s voice was firm. An order, not a request.

  The moment Jacqueline did, the crystal dulled, turning into an ordinary trinket instead of the shiny jewel it had been in Natalie’s hands.

  “See?”

  Jacqueline thrust the crystal back, muttering, “Stupid thing.”

  “Wait. I think it lit up,” Natalie tried.

  Clara raised an eyebrow.

  “Well, a little, at least,” Natalie said, determined not to anger Jacqueline. But her words seemed to have the opposite effect, as did Clara’s explanation.

  “Jacqueline is a dragon, so yes, it might glimmer slightly. But for you…” She beckoned Natalie closer and placed the stone in her hand. “You see?”

  The crystal went from a dull yellow-brown to a brilliant, golden jewel.

  “But… But…”

  “Do you truly know nothing of dragons?”

  Natalie shook her head.

  “No old legends in the family?”

  She laughed. “The only legend in my family is the dog my mom had when she was eight. Harry. We have a million stories about him, but not a single dragon.”

  “Dreams, then. Any dreams you can’t explain?”

  Tons, Natalie nearly said. She dreamed of flying. She dreamed of vampires. But with Clara watching her so closely, she shut those thoughts away.

  “I dreamed of Paris.” That much, she was ready to admit. “But so do a lot of other people.”

  Clara shook her head gravely. “The city has been calling to you. Your blood has been calling. Your destiny.”

  Natalie wanted to laugh and point out that it had all started with Dean, the world’s most boring date.

  But when she thought about it, her dreams went way back. At twelve, she’d won a prize at the town fair and chosen a poster of the Eiffel Tower. She’d decorated her college dorm with Monet prints and minored in French for reasons she could never explain.

  Then she shook her head. That hardly gave her the power to claim a vacant throne.

  “See?” Clara murmured, touching her hand.

  Natalie had been too deep in thought to pay attention, but when Clara spoke, she looked up. The older woman was holding her hand over the candle that flickered between them. Natalie pulled away, startled.

  “You don’t burn,” Clara noted.

  Natalie looked at her finger. “Not easily, no. But surely… Wait!” she protested as Clara thrust her hand into the heart of the candle.

  “Does it hurt?”

  Natalie closed her eyes, fishing for an explanation. “Um, I think it’s starting to.” Which was a lie, but heck. She couldn’t exactly admit to only feeling a tickle. “It doesn’t work with bigger fires.” She’d learned that the hard way one summer at camp.

  Clara nodded, unsurprised. “Your dragon blood protects you — as the crystal does.”

  Natalie looked down. “How can this little rock protect me?”

  Clara glanced at Jacqueline, who scowled and huffed. “Don’t ask me.”

  “The great dragons kept many treasures in their hoards — some so ancient, we do not recognize or understand their powers,” Clara explained. “Over the past months, Alaric has distributed a few treasures throughout the city in hopes of identifying a Fire Maiden.”

  Natalie recalled the day she’d bought the crystal. “I just happened to find it. Anyone could have picked it up in that flea market.”

  “You didn’t find it. It found you,” Clara insisted. “If I had walked by, all I would have seen was
a dull, everyday trinket. But a Fire Maiden would have seen it for what it truly was.”

  Fire Maiden. Natalie frowned. “Wait. First, I found the crystal. Then the vampires found me.” She held her necklace at arm’s length, feeling sick. Had she unwittingly drawn vampires to herself?

  Clara shook her head. “Vampires have no interest in jewels, only blood. They sniffed out your royal ancestry.”

  Natalie froze, remembering what Olivier had said in the alley. You think blood like that comes along every day? Royal blood?

  “So she might have a little dragon blood,” Jacqueline griped. “That hardly makes her a Fire Maiden.”

  For the first time that afternoon, Natalie agreed with Jacqueline.

  Clara’s chest rose and fell in a sigh. “Perhaps hope makes me too eager to believe. But the spell Liviana commissioned survives to this day. Now, we need that power more than ever. We need a Fire Maiden.”

  “Need her to what?” Natalie asked nervously.

  “To keep the spell active. Having a Fire Maiden in residence is part of that, but not all. She has to reside in the city. Love the city. Truly embrace it and its inhabitants.”

  Natalie considered. That didn’t sound too bad.

  “The city experiences its greatest periods of peace and stability when the resident Fire Maiden has children, because her instinct to protect them evokes the spell’s power to protect the entire city.”

  Natalie frowned. She’d always figured she’d have kids someday, but whoa. There wasn’t even a man in her life.

  There’s Tristan, a little voice whispered.

  Her cheeks heated. It was one thing to entertain wild fantasies about a man. To actually act on them was entirely different. She barely knew Tristan, and as for his view on the matter…

  Jacqueline paced through Natalie’s line of vision, smirking at some inner thought — like how good the man was in bed, perhaps.

  Natalie sank to the couch. “Okay. Maybe I have a drop of dragon blood. But it’s hard to believe I could be your Fire Maiden.”

  “Of course you aren’t,” Jacqueline snipped. “Even if you were, you’re hardly suited for the job.”

  Natalie looked up, her blood boiling.

  Jacqueline shrugged. “It’s not easy. A Fire Maiden is always a target. Especially when she’s a mere human.”

  “Jacqueline,” Clara warned.

  But Jacqueline leaned in from behind Natalie’s shoulder, breathing down her neck. “All those vampires…”

  Natalie’s skin crawled.

  “And gargoyles…” Jacqueline’s nails scratched over the backrest.

  “Jacqueline,” Clara barked.

  The she-dragon went back to pacing. “Then again, there are… How do you say it? Ah, yes. Perks.”

  Natalie shook her head wearily. “If perks are all you’re interested in, you’re interviewing for the wrong job.”

  “It’s not a job. It’s a calling,” Clara said, giving Jacqueline a stern look. Then she turned to Natalie and softened. “I don’t deny that a Fire Maiden would be exposed to danger, especially early on. The spell will take time to fully awaken, and you’re only a human, with no means of protecting yourself.”

  Natalie slumped. Was Clara trying to convince her or make her run?

  “Also, we don’t know precisely what your jewel is capable of. Clearly, it’s been spelled.”

  Spelled? Natalie looked down at the crystal in her hand.

  “There are stones that heal,” Clara went on. “Stones that lend you strength, wisdom, or courage. Regardless, there is no denying who you are. A Fire Maiden.” She held up her hands before Natalie could protest. “You’ll have protection. I promise you that. This house is impenetrable…”

  Natalie looked up, alarmed. This house is dark and depressing. She couldn’t imagine a worse fate than becoming a houseguest to blustery old Alaric. Especially if Jacqueline lived under the same roof.

  “I mean, just until you’ve settled into the city and learned more about our world,” Clara added quickly.

  Natalie forced herself to laugh, but it came out a nervous rattle. “I like my little apartment. That shows I’m not royal, right?”

  Jacqueline cackled. “Let me guess. You’re renting one of those tiny chambres de bonne in some obscure corner of the city.”

  Natalie furrowed her brow. Well, yes, she was renting what used to be a servant’s room under the eaves of an old building. “How did you know?”

  Jacqueline stuck up her nose. “Every deluded foreigner rents one when they come to Paris to find themselves.”

  I did not come to find myself, Natalie wanted to say. But maybe Jacqueline was right.

  She shook her head quickly. Either way, it didn’t matter. “My place is fine.”

  “It’s not,” Clara insisted. “The vampires who attacked you haven’t been apprehended yet.”

  Natalie had been edging toward the door, but those words stopped her cold.

  Clara mulled it over. “All right. I have an idea. Whether you accept you’re our Fire Maiden or not, you need protection. Do you agree?”

  Natalie ran her hands over her arms, trying to erase the goose bumps.

  “Well…yes. I guess so.”

  Jacqueline made a disgusted sound that said, Useless little human. If only you could defend yourself the way I can.

  Yeah, well. It would be nice to be able to turn into a dragon and fly away from vampires. Better yet, to incinerate them with a long plume of fire.

  Natalie frowned. What a predicament. She had enough dragon blood to attract vampires, but not enough to defend herself.

  Clara’s eyes clouded, wandering over the tapestries on the walls. But when her gaze slid over toward the room where Tristan and the other men waited, her face lit up with hope — and a hint of mischief.

  “Don’t worry, my dear. I know the perfect place for you to stay. And the perfect bodyguard for your protection.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Every muscle in Tristan’s body tensed. It had killed him to see Natalie led away, and he’d nearly followed like a lovesick puppy. A good thing Liam’s cutting look reminded him of his situation.

  Alaric is the boss, Tristan told his dragon. He and Hugo and the others.

  All those old guys, his dragon grumbled.

  Old guys who could kick his ass, at least collectively. Alaric and Hugo had been legendary warriors in their day, and while their hair might have turned gray, they were still forces to be reckoned with. Then there was creepy old Morfram, the vampire. Even if he was an ally, Tristan didn’t trust the man. Morfram and his sidekick, Albiorix, were responsible for keeping their brethren under control, and yet a gang of vampires had attacked Natalie with the help of a gargoyle. So, no. Tristan didn’t trust those old guys one bit.

  Besides, what do they know about love? his dragon muttered.

  Not much, he decided. Except for Hugo, perhaps. Even the grizzled wolf shifter couldn’t hide a look of goofy rapture when Clara had appeared.

  Tristan’s dragon sighed. That could be us and Natalie.

  Earth to Tristan, Liam called into his mind. Ready to pay attention before you get your ass whipped? Or should I say, pay attention while your ass gets whipped, because Alaric is about to lay into you — and bad.

  Tristan steeled himself. Any moment now, the ranking dragon would explode with a barrage aimed squarely at him, the young gun who’d messed up yet again.

  How could you fail so miserably? We hired you to watch for vampires, not to kill one. You’re fired, hotshot.

  Tristan clenched his fists. He’d never find a decent job again. He’d be forced to leave Paris. Worse, he’d be forced to part from Natalie.

  But she’s my mate, his dragon insisted.

  He ground his teeth. Surely, he was mistaken — the way his mother had been mistaken about his father in the beginning. Natalie was amazing, but she deserved better than him.

  Tristan… Liam called, pulling his attention back.

  And not
a moment too soon, because Alaric turned with a grave look. Beside him, Marcel folded his arms, trying to look menacing.

  Brace yourself, buddy, Liam whispered, directing Tristan’s attention to more immediate things. And remember, I had nothing to do with your fuckup. Not this time anyway.

  Alaric stared Tristan down for a good long time.

  Good luck, Liam added when Alaric finally began to speak. You’ll need it.

  “Monsieur Chevalier,” Alaric started gravely. “You shall never defy me again, is that clear?”

  Is that clear? Marcel’s haughty expression echoed.

  As if Tristan took orders from pampered brats like Marcel. He could barely swallow taking orders from Alaric, especially if those orders involved Natalie. But Hugo pinned him with a firm look that said, Say yes, son.

  Tristan forced himself to nod — once.

  “Good. Now on to the matter of the woman.”

  Tristan gnashed his teeth. Natalie was not just any woman. She was amazing. She was fascinating. She was—

  “Well done, Monsieur Chevalier,” Alaric murmured. “Well done.”

  He stared. Huh?

  Liam looked just as puzzled, but he nodded. Just run with it, man.

  “You have brought us the Fire Maiden we sought,” Alaric said.

  “Fire Maiden,” Marcel echoed, his eyes glittering.

  Tristan looked between Alaric and Hugo, utterly confused.

  “Well, what do you have to say for yourself?” Alaric demanded.

  Tristan waited for an Aha moment to strike and clarify what was going on, but none came. So he replied with a carefully even, “My task was to track vampires, sir.”

  Alaric nodded. “Olivier de Renoir. We know.”

  Tristan stared. Alaric knew about Natalie’s attacker?

  Wait a minute, his dragon muttered, growing angry.

  “You know?” he grunted, incredulous.

  Alaric nodded. “Of course.”

  The dragon’s casual tone infuriated him, and slowly, he pieced things together. Alaric was desperate to find a Fire Maiden. Shifters had sensitive noses, but vampires were even better. Who better to sniff out royal blood?

  “You used Olivier to lead you to her?” Tristan growled, his voice rising.

  Take it easy, buddy, Liam tried.