Throne of Oak (Maggie's Grove)

by Dana Marie Bell

She only prayed they would not be too late.

  Mina settled fully on her throne, her senses stretched to the limit, reaching through the forest and beyond to summon her defenders. Ash and Greer answered the call, racing through town with a speed that would have startled any but those who knew them. Amara’s touch glanced across her mind—her mate flying her through the night sky at vampiric speed. Noah, safe in town, heard her cry and, using his gifts, summoned the town’s shifters to him. She would have an army of weres guarding her within the hour.

  It wouldn’t be soon enough. Already she could feel the creature returning, banking above the forest, setting itself for another run at the Throne, another chance to set her world aflame. She dug her fingers into the edge of her throne, pushing herself further than she ever had before. Sweat broke out across her brow as, through the roots of the plants in the town, she called and called, leaning on the strength of ash and birch to boost the power behind her cry for aid. The great oak swayed above her. It was just as frightened of the flame as she was, but that didn’t stop it from lending her even greater strength. The great oak would not allow the forest to die...

  But Mina knew the truth. If they didn’t get help soon, nothing would save the forest.

  As for the town...

  The whole town could be destroyed if she allowed the fire to spread. She’d seen it, seen the newscasts of other places where forest fires weren’t contained, had seen the devastation they could unleash.

  No. Not on my watch. She would not be the Queen who lost Maggie’s Grove.

  She barely felt it when the flames erupted again, the protections surrounding the Throne holding it at bay. If nothing else survived, the Throne would. The forest could be rebuilt from there, but it was not a scenario she was willing to contemplate. Far too many of her people would lose their lives in the conflagration.

  Mina opened her eyes. She’d done everything she could, put heart and soul into her call. It was time to fight for her land, her people. She summoned her sword with a flick of her wrists and stood, prepared to do what every Oak had done since Maggie’s Grove had been founded.

  Defend her territory.

  May the Goddess have mercy on whoever was attacking the forest, because they’d roused the Queen.

  Mina felt Dragos moving toward her as she stood, her sword gleaming like blood in the flicker of the flames surrounding her. The entire Throne was encircled in fire—the heat baking her skin, the breeze it kicked up lifting her hair from her neck. She stared into the black sky beyond the edge of the flames, looking for some clue as to what, or who, her attacker was.

  She had a fair idea, but until she was certain she would withhold her judgment.

  Mina stood in the center of the Throne and raised her arms.

  Her forest responded. Branches whipped through the air, ready to slash vulnerable wings. Thorny vines trailed up trunks, ready to rend and tear through scale and flesh. The earth itself rose at her command, swamping the fires on the ground, trying to put it out before it was truly started.

  Mina could hear a grinding sound, like stone on stone, in the distance. The earth elementals were on their way.

  She felt the impact of two feet hitting the ground behind her. “Amara.”

  “Mina.” From the sound of Amara’s deep, gravelly tones, Amara had already transformed. Turning, she saw that Amara was covered in what looked like brown bark, but instead of it being rigid the bark moved with her. Reddish leaves blew around her in a nonexistent wind. Her green eyes glowed with angry intent, the whites completely obscured. And she had to be at least three feet taller—topping just over eight feet—towering over Mina as she took a protective stance behind her.

  Amara stared at the fires surrounding the Throne and shrieked, the sound filled with fury—the creaking and groaning of a thousand trees filling it with an inhuman rumble. “What do I need to kill?”

  Mina pointed upward with her blade. “That.”

  “Bloody hell.” Parker hit the ground so hard Mina nearly lost her balance. He sat up and shook his head, staring at the night sky in disbelief. “It’s a bloody fucking dragon.” He blinked, wiping dirt from his face. “A big one.”

  “Are you injured?” Mina couldn’t tell, but Amara wasn’t losing her mind, so she assumed not. Still, hitting the dirt that hard had to have hurt.

  Parker stood and shook himself before turning to Amara. “Stay back, sweet. I have no desire to find out how flammable you are.”

  Before Amara could protest, he took off again, sending a shower of dirt behind him. Amara shrieked again, and Mina covered her ears.

  Until the dragon landed, there was little Amara and Mina could do... Unless...

  Yes. How could she have forgotten? This was not the first time a flying creature had attacked the Throne. It was rare, but it did happen.

  She turned to Amara and gave a command the hamadryad would hate obeying. “Wait here.”

  She bolted to her throne and tapped out the pattern that opened the doorway to her home. She dashed down the stairs, ignoring the witch-lights, and threw open her door. She raced toward the fireplace and lifted the glass off the ancient bow, praying that the string wouldn’t break.

  It should. The whole bow should be brittle beyond belief, but as her hands touched the ancient wood, caressed the sinew, it brightened in her hands, becoming taut and polished and practically new. When she drew the string, testing it, a ghostly arrow formed, solid to all her senses save sight. It was utterly see-through, smoky and translucent.

  “Huh.”

  Mina flew up the steps, the bow in hand, ready to use it to shoot Laurentiu Ibanescu from the sky once and for all.

  “Stand firm, Mina, I am almost there.” She could hear the fury in Dragos’s voice. He meant to kill his father.

  “Be careful. He didn’t come alone.” The forest was reporting in—the knowledge that more than one dragon flew over her boundaries caused her to clench her teeth. Did Laurentiu mean to start a war with Maggie’s Grove? Was he arrogant enough to believe a clutch of dragons could destroy an entire town of mixed supernaturals?

  They’d thought Laurentiu merely meant to challenge Dragos. Instead, he was setting her world ablaze.

  “All my father cares for is my demise, and perhaps that of Vasile and Trajan now that they’ve turned on him. Attacking you as a means of drawing me out was a natural move on his part.”

  “Goody.” Mina raised the bow and drew the string, refusing to be distracted by the instantly formed smoke arrow. “We’ll have a nice family reunion as we try out barbeque dragon.”

  “Ugh. No. Thank you. I’d much rather eat you.”

  Mina took a deep breath and waited. The son of a bitch would fly over the Throne, trying to break the defenses as he had on his last pass. When he did, she would be ready.

  “My father is periwinkle-blue. He might be difficult to see in the night sky.”

  “Thanks.” She squinted up. The light of the fires were seriously interfering with her night vision.

  “Close your eyes, and use the forest. Let the trees be your eyes.”

  Amara was right. Mina closed her eyes and reached out, following the progress of the dragons through her connection to the forest.

  There. One was closer than all the others, fouling the air above her with his flame. Mina let fly, aware the arrow had hit home when fiery hot blood dripped onto the forest floor.

  “Nice shot.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Aim for the balls next. As much as I love Dragos, his father doesn’t need to reproduce anymore.”

  Mina snorted. “Unless his mate is into necrophilia he won’t be.” She drew the bow again, ready to take down the dragon so Dragos wouldn’t have to.

  * * *

  His father could not have picked a worse time to attack the Throne. Dragos was still shaky from his run-in with Kate. So of course his father had to pick tonight to attack Mina and the Throne. There was only one reason his father would come here instead of into the town
proper, one reason he’d choose to face the Queen rather than Dragos.

  Mina was the lesser threat. If Laurentiu could kill Mina, Dragos would die as well—their bond severed. Dragos would pine away for his mate, dying slowly of starvation and loneliness. He could drink from others, extend his life long after Mina was gone, but...

  It wouldn’t be worth it. Not without Mina.

  Perhaps Laurentiu also saw this as a quick way to gain a foothold in America. He could have one of his loyal minions take over the town, run it the way Laurentiu saw fit. The clutch would profit off Maggie’s Grove, but his father would run it into the ground, taking Dragos’s hard-won sanctuary and turning it into nothing more than a slave state. The locals, more than likely led by Noah, would rebel, forcing Laurentiu to war with them.

  If that happened the witches might not be able to keep things contained. The Van Helsings would soon find out and enter the fray.

  Hell, the U.S. military might discover their presence, and then all hell would break loose.

  Even if the humans didn’t get involved, he had no idea who would win in a fight between the town and the clutch. He certainly had no desire to find out. While the town housed some of the most powerful supernatural species in the world, the clutch was the personal clutch of the Prince of Dragons. They were the strongest among dragon-kind—fierce warriors who would follow their Prince into hell and back again.

  There was only one way to stop him, to ensure that his father never threatened Maggie’s Grove again.

  Dragos was going to have to kill him—in front of the whole town. Revealing that there really was a weredragon in Maggie’s Grove.

  A red one.

  If anyone in the town had studied the myths of the dragons, they’d know there was only one thing that could make a red dragon. It would prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that Dragos was that dragon.

  A dragon who’d become a vampire turned bloodred, an abomination in the eyes of most dragon-kind. An untainted dragon’s scales were on the cooler end of the spectrum, the warmest being violet, the coldest being white. So a bloodred dragon was instantly recognizable for what it was—a vampiric one.

  It was why his father had no real opposition from the clutch when he chose to drive Dragos out. Myth had it among his kind that a vampiric dragon was unable to control his appetites, would feast and feast on his own kind until the entire clutch was destroyed.

  As a prince, Dragos would have had access to all dragon-kind, and they believed he would use that power to destroy them.

  But Laurentiu knew the truth. Dragos had no desire to feast on draconic blood. In fact, the magic nature of the dragon ensured he had firm control over his hunger almost from the start, unlike a human who was turned. His sire, Katarn, had been able to leave him on his own within a week, taking off for parts unknown. Katarn would blow into town occasionally and check to make sure Dragos needed nothing, then leave as silently as he’d arrived.

  Dragos landed in the center of the Throne, still in his human form for safety’s sake. He had no desire to become his sotiei’s pincushion. “The vampires are flying in some water elementals to deal with the fire, but if all the moisture is sucked from the air there won’t be much they can do.”

  “The earth elementals will—” she let loose an arrow, grunting in satisfaction as it struck its target, “—help with that.”

  Dragos nodded. He hated what his father was forcing him to do. He changed to his dragon form so rarely, hiding who he was from everyone. Still, hunters had found his lair on occasion, forcing him to change, to fight.

  “You need to deal with this, Dragos.” Mina was staring at him instead of the sky, her dark gaze steady. “No one will think less of you if they know.”

  He winced. She was right, but... What if she was wrong? He could lose everything he’d worked for, everything he’d given to the town.

  The turn his clutch had taken against him had hurt far more, and for far longer, than he’d ever allowed anyone to guess. Exiled, abandoned—he’d been alone. Forced to a new world where nothing was familiar, not even the language. But he’d survived, and thrived, taking what had been done to him and using it to take in the supernatural world’s outcasts. He’d built something here, a family, his own unique clutch, and he’d defended it fiercely. He hated the fact that he was a vampiric dragon could take all of that away. If Maggie’s Grove turned on him...

  “They won’t.” Mina smiled. “Dragos, they love you.”

  Behind her, Amara nodded, her glowing green eyes filled with affection. “Of course we do. Idiot. Now go kick your dad’s ass for us.”

  “Bloody hell.” Parker hit the ground so hard Dragos would be surprised if bones weren’t broken. Parker blinked, so deeply embedded into the ground his ears were covered. “Well. That’s getting old.”

  Dragos helped Parker to his feet, wincing in sympathy when Parker favored his right leg. “This has to stop.”

  “Indeed, but how do we fight dragons?” Parker sat on Greer’s throne with a groan, gamely smiling at Amara as she knelt before him, checking his wounds. “They’re tossing us out of the sky like bloody darts.”

  A low, familiar cry sounded in the night, and Dragos grinned. “With owl shifters.”

  “They won’t be able to do much damage against dragon scales.” Mina drew the bow taut and aimed—letting fly when a dense dark shape blotted out the firelight, cursing softly when she missed.

  “No, but they’re night predators used to targeting small bugs and field mice. They’re more than capable of damaging dragon eyes.” A low, deep cry—a familiar one—echoed through the night. A deeper, angrier tone answered. “Vasile and Trajan are here.”

  “Join them, Dragos.” He looked at Mina and saw her determination, and her belief in him. It was humbling and empowering. “Join your brothers. Fly for us. Do what you were always meant to do.”

  Dragos nodded once and took off into the night sky, flying above the flames. The town’s owls and other night-time flying shifters were giving the dragons grief, distracting them with beak and claw.

  The vampires moved in, fighting with claw and fang—drawing blood even through tough dragon hide. The dragons weren’t used to dealing with such diverse enemies. Their movements faltered, floundered as the shifters and vampires tore into them with a vengeance.

  He caught a flash of white out of the corner of his eye and knew the town’s most elusive shifter had joined them. But he was gone before anyone could get a real glimpse of him.

  Dominic had joined the fight, and Dragos was no longer quite as concerned about injuries. Dominic would take care of them.

  He also saw the dragons beginning to swat his people out of the sky, recovering from their surprise far quicker than he’d hoped. For the first time in over a century, Dragos allowed the change to flow over him, allowed his dragon to burst free of his human form.

  Thick red scales covered corded muscle as arms and legs became clawed limbs. His wings spread, translucent and glowing with blood. His jaw lengthened, his teeth sharpening to points. Horns grew on his head—spikes meant to ram, to damage in pursuit of either a mate or an enemy. His spine lengthened, thickened until his tail swished behind him angrily. Smoke poured from his nostrils as he surveyed the damage.

  The elementals were doing their job, putting out the fires as quickly as possible. Water elementals were driving one of the smaller streams toward the blaze, while earth elementals covered the ground in soft, smothering earth. Fire elementals contained the blaze, while air elementals tried to deprive it of much-needed oxygen, creating tiny vacuums where the fire died swift, silent deaths.

  Mollie Ferguson was down there, leading the charge. Greer and her boyfriend Carter, a firefighter, followed closely behind her. Fire danced up and down her body as she tackled the largest of the blazes alone, pulling the heat into her own body and leaving behind nothing but cold, charred remains. As much as the two men disliked each other they worked together, keeping Mollie safe from harm by attacking any d
ragon that came near them. Greer leapt from branch to branch, attacking anything that approached too closely by air. Carter, in his wolf form, stood at her side, protecting her from any dragon that chose to land and face them on the ground.

  As a halfer, a half human, half elemental, she shouldn’t have been so strong. Much to everyone’s surprise, she was turning out to be one of the strongest elementals in Maggie’s Grove, and she proved it again when she took on the next largest blaze solo.

  She was the one who had ultimately destroyed Terri—burning the creature Terri had become to nothing more than a pile of ash. If not for her, Terri would be ruling Maggie’s Grove from the Throne and Mina would be dead.

  He owed Mollie a debt that could never be repaid.

  The blaze was under control, for now, thanks to Mollie and the rest of the elementals. But if the clutch returned they’d spew more fire, do more damage to his people and his home.

  “Dragossss.” Vasile, marked by his pale blue scales, flew to his right. “Where isss he?”

  “He needssss to die.” Trajan—his deep purple scales almost black in the night sky—was suddenly on his left.

  Selena swooped by on her broomstick. Ash perched precariously on the back, his silver sword in his hand.

  One of the clutch dragons let loose his flame. Selena swerved to avoid it, nearly sending Ash crashing to the ground.

  But he didn’t lose his balance. Instead, Ash used the broomstick’s momentum to leap onto the dragon’s back, piercing its neck with his sword and neatly severing its head from its body. With a backward flip Ash disengaged from the dead dragon, landing back on Selena’s broomstick with the grace of a circus performer. The two targeted another enemy dragon as the now human body fell lifeless to the forest floor.

  “Damn. Remind me not to pissss him off.” Vasile flew off, targeting one of the clutch.

  “Eddy?” He had to know his heart’s son was safe.

  “At your masssion, where I ordered him to remain.”

  That eased one fear. His Renfield was no match for a dragon. “Then let’sss fight, brother.”

  “With pleasssure, brother.”