They had no idea what might be coming. They had no idea that dragons had given their lives to protect them all these decades and centuries.
That one dragon might be giving its life so that its human side could help save them all.
That thought gave her a hollow ache in her chest. Thorne shouldn’t have to do this. He shouldn’t have to even think about doing it.
But he did have to. He was up there right now, working himself up to it. He was going to take the serum, and he’d do it tonight, while everyone was asleep and no one could talk him out of it.
She couldn’t let him do it alone.
She stared up at him for a long moment. Then she went inside, pulled on her boots and a jacket, and went up to the roof.
Thorne was lying on the flat section the dragons used as a landing pad, his huge snout resting on the waist-high stone parapet that ran around the outer edge.
It was still dark, though there was a faint lightening of the sky directly to the east.
“Hi,” Rebel said. “How’s the brooding going?”
I’m not brooding. I’m thinking. Why don’t people get that?
“My bad. Because they look so different, you know? What are you thinking?”
I’m currently wondering if you plan to stand there in the rain all night.
“It’s that or go back to bed. And there’s no one to keep me company in bed.”
Thorne sighed, heat coming out of his nostrils and turning the rain to steam. I suppose you can sit with me for a while.
“It’s wet.” Thorne let out another sigh and rolled his eyes. Arching his neck and aiming his snout downwards, he breathed a gout of flame onto the wet stone in front of him.
Heat and steam billowed up. He propped his head on the parapet again. There. It’s dry now.
Rebel walked over. The stone below Thorne’s massive head was bone-dry, and heated from his breath. She sat down, scooting sideways under Thorne’s chin so his head sheltered her from the rain. She leaned back against his warm chest. It was like having her own personal dragon fort, complete with radiator.
“It’s pretty sweet, actually. Some cushions would make it perfect.”
You can ask a zefir to bring some.
She’d had enough of zefirs for one night. “Nah,” she said. “I’ll make do.”
I applaud your courage and resilience.
There was the snarky Thorne she knew and lov—um, liked. “So,” she said, resting her elbow on his huge foreleg. “I know you’ve decided to take the serum. And if you think you’re doing it alone, you’ve got another think coming.”
Thorne snorted, letting out a puff of smoke. Trust Rebel to cut right to the chase, with no polite dancing around the subject.
He didn’t want to shame himself by admitting to her what he was really thinking, though. That he knew what he had to do, but he was putting it off because he was afraid.
And that he’d been wishing that she were here with him.
I don’t think you should be here, he made himself say. It might be dangerous for you. There’s probably nothing you can do to help, anyway.
“Really?” she asked. “How were you planning on opening that tiny vial and getting the serum to your mouth? You don’t have any fingers.”
I can get a zefir to do it.
“No way,” she said. “I’ll get it for you. Are we doing it in your lair?”
I don’t think that’s a good idea, he said. My treasure calls out to my dragon. I’m afraid if I take the serum there, it will be too hard for him to go back inside. I was thinking here would be the best place.
“In the rain? That seems kind of depressing.”
The rain doesn’t bother me.
“Okay then. Sit tight. I’ll be right back.” She crawled out from underneath him, scrambling to her feet.
Thorne screwed up his courage. He’d planned to do this alone, but maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe that’s what his dragon had been trying to tell him, making the bracelet for Rebel.
If the worst happened, maybe his mate could pull him back from the edge.
One more thing, he said. She turned back to face him. If I lose my dragon, I may need someone to be my anchor. In case…
He stopped again. It was so difficult to tell her how he felt, to beg for her help in his weakness. He was supposed to be strong for his mate.
“In case what?” she prodded.
In case it, um, makes me insane.
Or made him want to die.
Rebel bit her lip. “I’ve seen you insane. Maybe I should get one of the other dragons. Zane.”
Maybe, he said. But I would rather have you.
Her voice became very small. “Why me?”
You know why.
She was his mate. Whether she believed it or not, whether he believed it or not, his dragon believed it. It might be the only thing that could save him.
Slowly, Rebel reached up and cupped her hand around the edge of his jaw. As if he were human, and she was cupping his cheek in her hand. She blew out a huge, slow sigh.
“Okay, Lizard, I’m in,” she said. “Let’s do this.”
Chapter 17
Rebel went down the twisting iron staircase and in through the disused ballroom, taking the elevator down to the Batcave. The whole house was so dim and silent it seemed almost eerie.
Rebel usually liked being alone, especially in other people’s houses. It was one reason she enjoyed being a thief so much. Being somewhere she wasn’t supposed to be, with no one knowing she was there—it was a strange kind of freedom. Almost like she didn’t exist in the real world, and she could do whatever she wanted.
But somehow, here, it just felt lonely.
The control room seemed even bigger in the darkness, its shadows menacing. She found herself glancing warily around, wishing she’d brought her weapons with her.
No one stepped out of the shadows to confront her. The slim metal box was still on the table, with one vial of serum and one of the DRA-4269 toxin.
Rebel took out the remaining vial of toxin and set it carefully aside. She didn’t want to take any chances on accidentally poisoning Thorne. Then she shut the box on the vial of serum.
The snap of the locks seemed loud in the room.
Was this really the right thing to do? The loss of Thorne’s dragon would be a terrible thing. Her chest ached at the very thought.
But it was his choice. She knew how much this mission meant to him, and what could be at stake.
She walked over to the main bank of monitors, looking at the feed that showed the interior of Vyrkos’ tomb, almost a hundred miles away, deep below Mount Hood.
The Draken Lord lay sleeping underneath a magical shield that looked like a frozen lake.
The six of them, led by Thorne, were the only thing standing between him and the total destruction of the Pacific Northwest.
Rebel shuddered. She wasn’t afraid of much, but she was afraid of that. They all were.
She clenched the box hard in her hand, and then slipped it into her jacket pocket.
If Thorne wanted her help, she’d give it to him. She’d take him far away from the pull of his hoard, and give him the serum. And if the worst happened, she’d try to help him keep it together long enough to find the Seals, and shut Vyrkos down for good.
She turned to leave the room, and her bracelet slid down on her wrist. She stopped, looking at it.
The gold in it had probably come from Thorne’s hoard. Should she leave it behind? What if it connected him to the hoard, and called to his dragon?
But when she moved her hand to take it off, she couldn’t seem to make herself do it. The bracelet felt warm and comforting.
Like there was a part of his dragon’s spirit contained in it.
She didn’t know if the whispered words were Thorne, or his dragon, or just her own heart wanting a little piece of him.
But she pulled the sleeve of her jacket down over the bracelet, and went to the e
levator to go back to the roof. She found Thorne where she’d left him—chin on the parapet, staring out at the city.
He turned and looked at her. Did you get it?
“Right here.” She patted the pocket of her jacket. “And I had an idea.”
What?
“I’m thinking we should do this at my house.”
In St. Johns? Why?
“If you’re worried that your hoard will call to your dragon and keep him here, we should probably do it somewhere farther away than this rooftop. The house in St. Johns might be far enough. And the advantage it has over any other place that isn’t here, is that my car is there. So if you can’t fly, at least we can drive back.”
You don’t have much faith in my dragon.
“Don’t be stupid. If I didn’t have faith in him—and you—I wouldn’t have agreed to do this in the first place.”
Thorne gave a fiery huff, but he dipped his head in acknowledgement. It’s as good a place as any.
He sat up on his hind legs, towering above her, and reached one giant clawed forepaw down. Rebel climbed into it, settling into the hollow of his palm.
He cupped the other hand around her. Rebel heard the leathery rustle of his wings, and then he jumped off the roof.
She rose to her knees, resting her hands on one of his giant talons, drinking in the sight. If this was the last time she would fly with him, she wanted to remember it all.
The voice came quietly into her mind. Not Thorne’s, but the dragon’s.
She answered him silently. Are you—are you talking to me?
Thorne can’t hear us?
The serum? You want to take it? It could kill you.
The dragon sounded confident.
Rebel tried to be gentle. But it could happen.
Rebel didn’t know about that, but she wasn’t going to argue with someone who was possibly about to sacrifice himself.
He’ll only be half a person with you gone, she said.
The voice faded away, and Rebel sensed Thorne’s presence again, the churn of his emotions. She hoped he could feel her too, so he wouldn’t feel alone.
She leaned back in the palm of his giant dragon hand, stroking his huge talon. He seemed to like it when she stroked his skin. It’ll be okay, she said silently.
He didn’t answer, but she could feel his emotions settling down, and she rested her cheek against his hide, trying not to cry.
They flew in and landed on the roof of Rebel’s rental house, Thorne using his dragon cloaking ability to make sure they weren’t noticed by the neighbors.
Rebel climbed out of Thorne’s hand and looked down into the backyard. It was a wreck—Thorne had knocked limbs off the trees and ripped up the shrubbery the last time he was here.
“Well, at least we can’t trash the backyard much more than it already is,” she said.
I’ll pay to have it fixed, Thorne told her.
“Damn right you will, Lizard.” Rebel walked down onto the roof of the back porch and swung herself over the edge, holding onto the gutter. She dropped the last few feet. “You coming?”
In a minute. I’m setting a dampening field so the neighbors won’t hear or see anything.
In case his dragon got noisy, or thrashed around. There went the rest of the trees.
He closed his eyes for a minute, as if concentrating, and then opened them. I’m coming down now.
Rebel backed up onto the porch and Thorne hopped down into the backyard, turning so he was facing her. Luckily the backyard was fenced for privacy, but there wasn’t a lot of room. Thorne was bigger than a good-sized RV, not including his tail.
Rebel took the vial out of the box and uncapped it. Thorne waited, eyes glowing in the dark.
Rebel reached up and slowly stroked his nose. The scales were so soft. He was amazing—a magical creature, unique in his beauty.
And this might be the last anyone would ever see of him.
Hey, Lizard, she said.
I just want you to remember you’re strong. And brave. And you have a very sexy tail.
There was a rumble of dragon laughter.
He opened his mouth, and she poured the serum inside. He swallowed.
At first, nothing happened. Then, without warning, his giant body seized, his back arching. He collapsed, shaking the ground.
His limbs thrashed, and there was no time for Rebel to get out of the way. She pressed up close to him instead, trying to avoid the flailing claws and head.
She heard a high, keening cry, like a train whistle, and then a gout of fire blasted into the air, singeing the overhanging limbs of the maple tree.
Holy fuck. If he rolled over on her, she was going to end up a puddle of jelly on the back lawn.
Rebel eyed the distance to the house, but even if she were able to dodge his teeth and claws and fire, she couldn’t leave him. She’d promised to help him, and she could sense his tormented mind reaching out for her.
She jumped up and grabbed one of the horns that jutted from the top of his head. Swinging herself up, she lay against him, straddling his neck. I’m here, she told him, hoping he could hear.
He seized again, head lashing, and Rebel used all her strength just to hang on.
Chapter 18
Thorne’s blood was burning. Lava flowed through his veins, burning him from the inside out. His nerve endings were overloading, snapping and popping with electricity. All his muscles seized, again and again.
For an eternity, all he could feel was pain.
Then he felt a huge, dark presence in his mind. Vyrkos, the Draken Lord. The serum was trying to force his body to Change, but the magic of Vyrkos’ godlike command was holding him in dragon form.
Science vs. magic. It was killing him.
He reached out for something—anything—to hold onto. To his surprise, he felt a faint comforting presence, like a hand on his shoulder.
The dark power in his mind made his body seize again, trying to shake off that presence. Thorne fought the darkness, trying to stay still, trying to keep it near him.
No, that couldn’t be right. He tried to make sense of it through the haze of pain. He was Draken; his mate must be Draken. Whatever this presence was, it wasn’t Draken.
GET RID OF IT, the darkness commanded.
Then the pain took him again, so hard and so long he had to float away from his body to escape it.
He was a young dragonling, just gaining his wings. He was flying after a cluster of other young Draken, desperate to keep up, but he was too small.
Whispers and sneers. Half-breed. Wild Dragon.
Finding his tiny hoard ransacked, fouled by dung.
His father, large and stern, telling him to keep in the background. Behave with dignity. Stop begging for attention.
His father sitting with him before the fire in his lair. Teaching him to read the Draken language. Practicing spells.
A flash of pride when Thorne did one right, immediately followed by that stern, dispassionate stare. “Do it again.” Do it better.
It was never enough. And yet he spent years—centuries—chasing that elusive look of pride.
The pain hammered at him.
He was older, an adolescent, watching the Guardians train. Following them, imitating them. Hiding in the back of the cavern when the true Draken young were instructed, hearing about the great responsibility they
carried.
Protecting the world.
Telling his father he wanted to be a Guardian, and hearing his harsh laughter. “You can’t be a Guardian. Only Draken can be Guardians.”
And then he was older. Centuries older, and there was fire and lava, and a Draken Lord rising.
Mount St. Helens erupting. The Draken Lord Zavrek breaking free. The Guardians fighting. Dying.
The fire was all around him, burning his flesh, melting his bones.
Not fire.
The serum. He was dying.
He reached out once more, looking for something to hold onto.
Rebel rode out the seizure, clinging to Thorne’s neck. Thorne’s pain rocketed through her, as if their nerve endings were connected.
She relived scenes from his childhood along with him, feeling the shame, the frustration, the fury, and above all, the loneliness. The knowledge he’d always be different, always be on the outside.
That his father would never be proud of him.
And then his father was gone, and Thorne was the last of the Guardians. Alone.
His body seized again. He shivered, trying to Change, but Vyrkos’ dark presence snaked through his mind, demanding that he remain a dragon.
He couldn’t resist the power of the Draken Lord, even if it tore his mind and body apart.
Another vision caught her up. Thorne, alone, wandering the empty house where the Guardians had lived. The place that had once been full of light and life and purpose, now lonely and echoing.
He sat in the middle of a large cavern, full of gold but empty of life. The fireplace was dark, the gold cold and silent, too devastated with loss to make a sound.
Like Thorne.
He wanted to give up.
But he didn’t.
And she wasn’t going to let him give up now.
“Come on, Thorne,” she said. “You can do this. You can be human again. Fight!”
She tried to think of something else to say, something to pull him back from the edge. “You’re a good man. A good dragon. Honorable. Brave. Strong. Determined. We need you.”
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