“Maybe it was lightning,” Erik said. “Such a violent, sudden downpour.”
“Such a violent, sudden downpour,” Peter agreed.
“You have a burn,” Erik insisted quietly. “But you don’t need any medical assistance.”
Peter stared back at him, transfixed. “I don’t need any medical assistance.”
“It’s time to go to the cottage.”
Peter sighed as the firemen came to a stop at the curb. They began unfurling their hoses as the little boy reappeared in the front doorway. Niall suspected the boy wouldn’t forget this night’s excitement for a long time. His eyes were as round as saucers.
“Weird weather,” one of fireman said, looking at the puddles from the sudden downpour, and another grunted an agreement. The captain strode to the house, his gaze flicking over the roof.
“I have no idea how the fire started,” Peter said by way of greeting. “But I tried to put it out. Maybe it was lightning. Such a sudden, violent storm.”
“You said it. You couldn’t have ordered that rain up at a better time,” the fireman said, his gaze flicking over the three Pyr. “You can’t trust cedar shingles, though. We’re going to douse it, just to make sure there are no pockets of flame. It’ll make a mess, I’ll warn you now, but it’s the best move.” He considered the little boy. “You and your family have somewhere else to sleep tonight?”
“Of course,” Peter said smoothly. “We’re going to go to the cottage.” He turned to greet his wife as she came out of the house with the little girl. She began to ask questions and Peter replied with Erik’s answers. The little boy looked between them, listening, then back to the Pyr. The firemen focused on the job at hand and the Pyr slid into the shadows as one.
They’d fly above Peter’s car, ensuring that the family got to their cottage safely, but would remain out of sight. Niall saw Sloane glance back and realized the little boy was still watching them.
He knew Erik was right about beguiling children, but he had a bad feeling about the child’s fascination all the same.
Chapter 18
Donovan would have preferred to have spent the day alone with Alex, but there was too much work to be done.
There was a flurry of old-speak when they walked into the main room of the house together. He was surprised to find that Peter had returned. Erik, Sloane, and Niall were also back, and Peter’s wife—Diane, Alex had called her—was nursing a coffee in the kitchen. She looked strained and Donovan couldn’t blame her, given the state of the conservatory.
“There was a Slayer attack at Peter’s house,” Donovan murmured to Alex. “Everyone is fine, but Sigmund got away. Erik thought it would be better to have everyone here.”
“In the smoke fortress,” Alex agreed. As always, she moved quickly from an emotional response to practical solutions. It was another thing Donovan loved about her. “Shouldn’t you guys breathe some more of that stuff?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Donovan agreed with a smile. “What do you think they’ve been doing all night?”
Alex smiled. “Maybe I should leave dragon matters to dragons and focus on human issues.”
“Maybe.”
Donovan followed Alex’s gaze to her sister-in-law. Diane was blond, slender, and attractive. He sensed that she was an organizational force and that the wreckage in the conservatory would add a wrinkle to her plans. Peter was in the kitchen, too, but looked so untroubled that he was obviously beguiled.
“I tried to keep our interference to a minimum,” Erik said in old-speak, and Donovan nodded minutely.
That plan might need a change.
“Alex!” Diane poured the rest of her coffee down the sink and crossed the kitchen quickly. “Why didn’t you tell us that you intended to use the house?” Her gaze flicked over the Pyr and her voice rose. “Why didn’t you mention that you would be bringing so many guests?”
“I’m sorry, Diane. It happened really quickly.” Alex paused as if hoping that would do. Diane kept glaring at her, and Donovan watched as Alex smiled and continued. Her tone radiated reassurance and calm—she was doing a kind of beguiling of her own. “We’re working together to finish the project Mark and I had started. We’ll be done tomorrow. Then we’ll repair all the damage to the house.”
“I should hope so,” Diane said tightly. “The conservatory is a mess. Do you know how long it took to import those saltillo tiles? I can’t begin to imagine how you ruined them—”
“Let me see if I can repair them,” Rafferty said, interrupting Diane with smooth assurance.
“What do you know about tiles?” Diane snapped.
“Quite a lot,” Rafferty said, speaking with his usual slowness. “The clay used to make ceramics is of the earth.”
Diane stared at him. “What does that mean?”
“Give me until the weekend. Let’s see what I can do.”
Diane muttered something under her breath and returned to the coffeepot. She poured herself another cup and ladled in the sugar with a shaking hand. “I can’t believe this,” she said in a low voice that betrayed her tension. “First the fire at the house, then the damage here. The kids were supposed to go trick-or-treating with their friends tonight. I’ve no idea how we’ll come up with an alternative plan on such short notice. . . .”
“They could go out here,” Peter suggested.
Diane glared at him. “Are you nuts? The neighbors are miles away and we don’t even know them yet.”
“Perhaps the decaffeinated tea would be a better choice,” Oscar said mildly.
“When I want the house to tell me what to drink, I’ll ask,” Diane snapped. She took a gulp of coffee and it was obviously scalding hot. She grimaced as she swallowed it, then put the cup down and pinched the bridge of her nose.
“You worry too much,” Peter said mildly.
She looked at him over her fingers and Donovan knew Diane was going to lose it.
“I think I have good cause to be worried right now.” Diane’s tone was low and tight, as if she was fighting for control. “Both our homes are damaged, you keep talking like some kind of pothead and insisting that everything is fine, Jared says that he’s seen dragons, and Kirsten is crying because I forgot her pink princess dress. Imagine!” Her voice rose an increment. “In the crisis of having the house spontaneously burst into flames and then a rainstorm abruptly extinguish the fire, in the midst of having firemen fill the house with water from the roof down and your bizarre decision to come to the cottage immediately, I forgot the pink princess dress, which apparently was the only thing worth saving in the whole goddamn house!”
Peter started to talk, but Diane interrupted him, her tone vicious. “Do not tell me that everything is fine again. Do not tell me again that this house needs its security system examined in two weeks and do not tell me that you have a burn but don’t need medical attention. Do not tell me that Alex forgot the codes, because Alex never forgets the codes, and do not tell me that the security system malfunctioned, when I can see that the conservatory is completely trashed and that the security system was obviously right on the money.” She poured the second cup of coffee down the drain. “How did you come here the other night and not notice all of this? Or did you decide to lie to me?”
“Diane,” Alex began, but her sister-in-law pointed at her.
“Don’t lie to me. What I want to know is what the hell is really going on here.”
There was a beat of silence in the kitchen. Donovan wondered whether it was possible to explain things succinctly and with a measure of truth. Before he could decide, Rafferty began to hum.
The choice was made.
Diane would be beguiled, too. He caught Alex’s hand in his and squeezed her fingers. The spark that emanated from their interlocked hands was blinding in its brightness. The Pyr collectively caught their breath, and Donovan felt singed to his toes. He was hot, burning up, aching for Alex even though they’d spent the night trying to thwart the firestorm. He felt her pulse accelerate and knew she fe
lt the same way.
Diane stared at the glow, her eyes wide, and Alex briefly tried to pull her hand away. Donovan held fast, knowing that it didn’t matter what Diane saw in this moment before she was beguiled. He slid his thumb across the back of Alex’s hand and knew the moment she understood.
Rafferty could beguile better than most Pyr and his effect upon Diane was almost instantaneous. The tension rolled out of her shoulders even before she met his gaze. Alex stood close beside Donovan and watched, but didn’t look into Rafferty’s eyes.
Just the way he’d taught her. Donovan was proud.
Diane stared at Rafferty. When he spoke, his voice was low and melodic. “What you really want is to be reassured,” he said with confidence. “And that is only reasonable.”
“I’m only being reasonable,” Diane insisted, but the stridency was gone from her voice.
“You’re concerned for those you love,” Rafferty said.
“Of course, I’m concerned for those I love.”
“What better time to appreciate what you have, to enjoy the love that surrounds you?” Rafferty’s smile broadened as Diane stared at him. “What better time to celebrate the fact that only material things were damaged in the fire?”
Diane flushed a little and her gaze slanted to Peter. Then she straightened and looked at Rafferty again. “What better time.”
“How romantic to share a master bedroom retreat with the man you love,” Rafferty said. “How romantic to forget the world and its troubles. How convenient to have Alex here to watch the children.”
“How convenient,” Diane repeated, then smiled. She eased closer to Peter.
“How lucky you are,” Rafferty said.
“How lucky we are.” Diane trailed a fingertip down Peter’s arm. He captured her hand and kissed her fingertips.
“Celebrate,” Rafferty whispered with heat, and the pair looked at each other. They seemed to get lost in each other’s eyes and to forget they had a roomful of guests.
Donovan tugged Alex from the kitchen. “Let’s leave him to it,” he murmured, then nodded at Quinn. “We’ve got work to do.”
The Pyr quietly moved toward the garage to fix those last head gaskets.
Alex paused in the conservatory, only just remembering what she’d intended to do. The firestorm was as distracting as ever. “I’ve got to make a phone call. Just to make sure nothing else is going wrong.” She flicked a smile at Donovan. “Not that I’m paranoid or anything.”
“A little paranoia can be a good thing,” he agreed.
Alex retrieved her cell phone from her purse in the living room, trying not to make any noise. Diane and Peter were necking in front of the stainless steel fridge.
“My work here is done,” Rafferty said with a grin, and followed Alex back into the conservatory.
“Whom are you calling?” Donovan asked.
“I want to check with Mr. Sinclair that he’s still coming tomorrow. The last time I called, I could only leave a message.” Alex punched in the number in the conservatory and found Erik right behind her.
“Where is Mr. Sinclair?” His manner was more intense than Alex thought the question deserved.
She shrugged. “Chicago. In his office, probably. That’s where he usually is.” The line connected and Alex smiled at the secretary’s familiar voice. “Hi, Megan. This is Alex Madison. Is Mr. Sinclair available?” The line clicked immediately. It was as if Mr. Sinclair had been waiting for her call.
“Alex! How pleasant to hear from you.” His tone was officious, as if she were a telemarketer selling timeshares.
Alex realized that Erik was watching her, so she answered with confidence. “I just wanted to confirm our meeting. I’ll pick you up at the airport tomorrow, as we planned.”
There was caution in his tone. “I’m not sure we have anything to talk about, Alex.”
Alex’s heart skipped. “What do you mean? We have a meeting scheduled.”
“But after the fire at the lab, you can’t possibly have a running prototype of the Green Machine to show me.”
Relief flooded through Alex. “Oh, but I do! We had a backup of the Green Machine stored off-site, just as you suggested in the summer.”
“And it runs?” He sounded wary.
“Of course! It’s just not as flashy as the newer version, but the technology is the same—”
Mr. Sinclair sighed, interrupting Alex. “I must be honest with you, Alex. I have considerable doubts about this projectand about working with you in future. I’m concerned about Mark’s disappearance and this fire at the lab.”
“We knew all along that there could be industrial espionage,” Alex said, her voice rising.
“Is that what it was?” Mr. Sinclair mused. “Alex, you should know that the authorities contacted me. They are seeking you in connection with the fire at the lab, which they believe to have been deliberately set. They are concerned that Mark may have been killed, because there was blood in his office at the lab. And they told me you left the hospital without authorization just before a transfer to the psychiatric ward could be completed.”
“But—”
Mr. Sinclair cleared his throat. “I am not certain, Alex, that it is wise to invest my money in a firm solely administered by a woman who apparently blames dragons for her situation.”
“I can explain everything, Mr. Sinclair. . . .”
“I think it wise that we discontinue our discussions about the Green Machine.”
“But—”
Mr. Sinclair was brusque and dismissive. “In future, if there is any need to contact me, you can contact my new assistant instead. His name is Boris Vassily and he is well experienced in matters of alternative fuels. Megan will connect you to him now.”
No.
Alex stared at the phone. It couldn’t be.
“What’s wrong?” Erik asked with urgency. Donovan and the others had trailed back into the conservatory to listen, their expressions filled with concern.
Alex had to know the truth before she could answer. There was a click as the call was transferred, a bright comment from Megan, and then a familiar voice slithered out of Alex’s phone.
“Hello, Alex,” Boris said. “Perhaps we could meet to discuss this matter—over dinner, maybe?” He laughed.
Alex broke the connection, shutting the phone with shaking hands. “It’s Boris. He’s beguiled Mr. Sinclair.”
Erik swore. “I knew there was something we were missing.”
“We should go there,” Rafferty began, but Erik interrupted him.
“No. The battle with Boris is mine.” He turned a cold glance upon Alex. “Please tell me everything you know about Mr. Sinclair: where he lives, where he works, where he eats, how much he has invested in Gilchrist Enterprises and when, the nature of your agreement, whatever else you know.”
“That’s easy.” Alex continued to the garage, where she’d left the laptop. She rummaged through the stacks of CDs and chose one. She offered it to Erik. “I kept track of it all in one place so we wouldn’t forget anything. It’s all on here.”
“And the plane he was to take tomorrow?”
“Northwest from Chicago. It lands just after noon.”
“Meet it,” Erik said with resolve. “With the Green Machine. Mr. Sinclair will be there, no matter what I have to do to ensure it.”
“Don’t take any unnecessary risks,” Rafferty advised.
“There are no longer any risks that are unnecessary. Everything is on the line, Rafferty,” Erik said. “The time for half measures is long past.” His expression turned more grim. “I’ll rid the earth of Boris Vassily if it’s the last thing I do.”
“Yes,” said a woman. They pivoted to see Sophie lounging in the open doorway of one garage bay.
Alex wasn’t the only one surprised to see the Wyvern.
“That’s pretty much how it will shake out,” Sophie said to Erik, holding his gaze steadily.
“I knew it,” Erik said. He took the CD and grabbed hi
s jacket, swinging out of the house without slowing down.
“We should help him,” Rafferty said with concern. “Be his seconds.”
“Your task is here,” Sophie said with authority. “The Wizard has need of you for her battle. The Warrior cannot triumph alone.”
They stared at her and Alex doubted she was the only one deciding which question she should ask first of the Wyvern. Sophie surveyed them all; then she arched a brow. She waved her fingertips at them and smiled as she faded to nothing.
She was gone.
“You’re not the only one who hates when she does that,” Niall said to Rafferty.
Alex had a moment when her determination failed. The car didn’t run yet, she had only a day left, Slayers were targeting her family, and now Mr. Sinclair was having doubts, thanks to Boris. Her optimism faltered, but Donovan stepped into the void.
“Let’s get to it,” he urged the others, then gave Alex a nudge. “So close and yet so far. Don’t worry—if anyone can take Boris out of the picture, it’s Erik. And we already know that Quinn can reshape the head gaskets.” He winked and her heart skipped a beat. He turned to Quinn. “Did you have your Wheaties yet?”
Quinn smiled with slow confidence. “Of course.”
Donovan caught Alex close. “See? We’re closing in on the big finish.” He pressed a kiss to her temple and his touch made Alex feel good. The firestorm simmered and surged, sending heat through Alex that weakened her knees. Its force reminded her that many more things were possible than she might have previously believed.
“Don’t give up yet, gorgeous,” Donovan whispered against her ear.
And she couldn’t. Not when they were all pulling so hard for the Green Machine. Donovan understood her so well, and knew just how to boost her spirits. She liked her sense that they were on the same team. Alex would never have believed that she could have fallen for anyone so fast, but here she was, falling hard.
Had Donovan lost the second scale because of her? As much as Alex liked the idea, she refused to be responsible for him being vulnerable.
“Wait,” she said. The Pyr and Sara turned to look at her. “I have a question. You said that Sigmund attacked Peter and his family.”
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