Dragon of the Prairie (Exiled Dragons Book 13)

by Sarah J. Stone

  And yet, he also knew that he'd never separate from Desmond, never leave Eliza. So, what did he expect?

  “Can you feel who it is?” Nathaniel asked Desmond. “Can you see through her eyes?”

  “No,” Desmond said as they ran. Their breath was now haggard, but their stamina was unmatchable. “She's afraid, though.”

  “She's not hurt,” Nathaniel said, after a moment.

  “No,” Desmond replied. “But then, anyone who wants her wouldn't damage a hair on her head for fear of damaging her precious magic.”

  “At least there's that,” Nathaniel said, drearily.

  On the other side of the town, Laura was moving at a similar pace. Devon had finally let her lock onto his presence, and she ran without thinking, guided by the magic.

  Her booted feet were smacking the ground with rhythm, and she locked onto a communication channel, hoping Devon had the presence of mind to answer.

  ‘Are you hurt?’

  ‘I need meds.’

  She nearly stopped at that. ‘I don't have them, Devon.’

  ‘That's what I need. This is my fault. Help.’

  She decided her best bet was to continue forward, moving so quickly that she became a blur to any passerby. If she stopped to even breathe, she knew that she wouldn't be able to make it.

  ‘Who is it?’

  ‘Followers of Black Caesar.’

  ‘Well, damn.’

  Her answer elicited a laugh from him – broken, but a laugh nonetheless.

  ‘Are you coming?’

  ‘Obviously, Devon, I would never leave you.’

  His thoughts fell quiet, but he remained there as if he was silently in the room, but saying nothing. She knew if she pushed, she could see through his eyes. But she didn't want to distract him if he was in physical danger. She imagined that they had taken Devon because he was with Sienna, who was the ultimate prize. She just hoped that they didn't see her Tiro as disposable.

  Approaching the warehouse from the left, she sucked in a breath as she realized that the last time they were here was when they rescued Nathaniel. They had been so powerful then–so strong and so ready to take on anything. With Devon at her side, nothing could possibly go wrong. She had felt no fear as they approached the warehouse last time. Now, everything was on the line.

  “Laura,” came a voice, and she jumped about five feet in the air as someone grabbed her shoulder. It was Nathaniel, standing there, panting. Desmond was at his side, and both their faces were dark.

  “I take it you got the message via Tiro 911?” she asked.

  “Is Devon with her?” Nathaniel asked, and she felt frost in his voice. They couldn't possibly blame her for this, could they?

  But the feelings between them had clearly cooled.

  “He is,” she said. “And he's about to go through withdrawal, which could bring their danger level to a whole new tier if we don't do something.”

  “Any idea as to their attackers?” Desmond asked.

  “Followers of Black Caesar,” Laura replied. “Which should come as no surprise”

  “Then there is no time to spare...” Desmond started, and then suddenly froze.

  “Maestro?” Nathaniel asked, putting a hand on his shoulder. Desmond's head turned eerily to the left as he spun on his heel.

  “Get down,” he said, his voice hardly above a whisper. “And get down slowly.”

  They lowered to the ground, almost by instinct.

  “Maestro?” Nathaniel repeated, confused. “What is it?”

  “Who is it?” Desmond corrected him, pointing his finger across the lawn. Nathaniel followed his gaze, and then his eyes widened. Crossing the grass with a long, black cloak, his head held high, and followed by a league of minions, was Reynolds.

  He moved like a king who no one had ever challenged. His magic was dancing at his fingertips, his eyes were ablaze, and his confidence clear.

  In a lot of ways, he looked like a powerful, successful Maestro. A witch who should have risen to the top.

  He had risen to the top, Nathaniel realized. Except it wasn't the way he was supposed to.

  “Oh boy,” Laura said as she watched him enter the warehouse. “Do you think he's been in league with Black Caesar this whole time?”

  “No,” Desmond answered. “I think he heard that they have Sienna, and he wants her for himself. He will either offer them something they can't refuse, or he will kill them all. That's Reynolds' way. If he can't have it, nobody can.”

  “Not exactly the best deal,” Nathaniel said as he watched the minions enter the building. The door slammed shut behind them. “Maestro?” he said at Desmond's trance-like gaze. “Are you all right?”

  Desmond took a deep breath. “Yes,” he said, but Nathaniel could tell that he was not.

  “Stay here, Maestro,” Nathaniel said. “Let Laura and I go in and work this out. It will be all right.”

  “Don't be absurd,” Desmond said. “You need as much support as you can get. There are two different sides in there, and both of them threaten our Tiro.”

  “Yes,” Nathaniel said. “But Reynolds is in there, and you know that if we defeat him, we have to bring him to justice.”

  “Nathaniel,” Desmond focused on the ground for a long time before taking a deep breath, “do not underestimate my ability to judge right from wrong. There was a time when I thought I could save Reynolds. And maybe–just maybe–I still can. But saving him does not involve letting him escape the Jurors. He must answer for what he's done. And when he's sees there is no other way out, he will decide there is another path for him.”

  ‘You don't have to do this,’ Nathaniel told his Maestro, who smiled sadly.

  ‘But I do. For all of us.’

  Nathaniel had never been so unsure of Desmond in his life. He knew that his former Maestro would try to do the right thing; to stay strong. But when it came to looking Reynolds in the eye, he wasn't sure that Desmond would be able to follow through.

  Expressing doubt about one's Maestro was such a faux pas that Nathaniel didn't even dare speak anymore. He simply nodded as he stood up. Laura rose at his side, her eyes trained on the building.

  “Shall we move like last time?” she asked. “Each of us take a side, take them by surprise.”

  “Last time, there were more of us,” Nathaniel pointed out. “I don't know about Devon, but Sienna is not in any physical distress. Sybil and Kierry are not far away. Maybe we could wait for them to arrive.”

  “No,” Laura said. “Devon is in physical distress. In addition, Sybil and Kierry are known to Reynolds. He would have them watched. If he received information that they were on the way, he would know that this entire quest was undercover.”

  “Let me go in alone,” Desmond said, surprising both of them.

  “Are you out of your mind?” Nathaniel asked him, turning to him in shock.

  “Quite possibly,” Desmond replied. “But if I go in alone, Reynolds might not see a threat. He knows that I am close to Sienna. He thinks we were considering his side. Let me go in alone.”

  “Remain connected with me,” Nathaniel said, and Desmond's eyes flashed.

  “I can't,” he said. “Reynolds will be looking for that. He knows me well.”

  “You're still bonded to him,” Nathaniel said in shock.

  “Only in the way that I will always bonded to you and to Christa,” Desmond answered. “But if I am sending information your way, he will know. You have to trust me, Nathaniel.” He put his hand on the younger Maestro's shoulder, and Nathaniel met his eyes.

  “Of course, I trust you, Maestro. But–”

  “Then let me go,” Desmond said, and turned, not giving Nathaniel a chance to answer.

  There were a thousand things that Nathaniel wanted to say in that moment. Most of them involved stopping Desmond, calling out any manner of ridiculous things. He thought about calling Desmond senile, or perhaps questioning his commitment to the Jurors.

  But he didn't do any of them, watc
hing helplessly as his Maestro approached the empty building.

  “This is crazy,” Laura said as she watched. “We should help. We should be in there. We have to go in!”

  “He's gone to try and rescue his Tiro,” Nathaniel said softly, and then it came to him. “As we were trying to do all night. As, I imagine, that you and I will always do for Sienna and Devon, no matter what the circumstances.”

  “Of course,” Laura replied. And then it dawned on her as well. “Oh. Do you think that Reynolds will actually hurt him?”

  “I don't know,” Nathaniel said. “I don't know what Reynolds' view has deteriorated to, to be honest. But the first sign of trouble, Desmond be damned, I will go in there.”

  “Well, at least you have a plan,” Laura said as she crouched down. Her muscles were tense, and she was ready to storm the warehouse at any given moment.

  Desmond walked slowly, as if he was walking to his death. His mind was clouded with thousands of thoughts, and he could barely form words.

  'Reynolds' was the only clear word in his mind as he crossed the lawn. He had imagined this moment again and again over the years. Was it too late? Where had he gone wrong? Was Reynolds just predisposed to go this way? Or could Desmond guide his hand, even now?

  He paused at the door, his palm open on it. Witches wanted nothing but peace; they were supposed to be the guardians of the galaxy. They were not supposed to bringing more turmoil into it.

  A part of Desmond also wondered if he was making the second mistake twice. Was he forcing Sienna into a path that she shouldn't be walking on? Whether or not Reynolds' path was right for her wasn't the issue; it was whether she should be trying to do something that she had dreamed about, but could likely never accomplish.

  Was he killing two Tiros in one swift motion?

  He pulled open the door with his magic, letting both of them know he was coming in.

  Chapter 17

  Sienna was too frightened to call out, but she breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Desmond at the door. Desmond was here now; he would fix everything.

  She and Devon were strung up much the way Nathaniel had been, and Black Caesar's followers circled them. She could feel them conquering a kind of magic that made her chest feel like it was going to collapse.

  Black Caesar had believed in cleaning up the streets and destroying witches. It was more than returning to nature; it was obliterating them from the world. Sienna had pushed a protection spell around her and the rapidly fading Devon, but she wasn't sure she could hold it forever.

  Reynolds stood at the edge of the warehouse, his eyes blazing as he reached out his hand. To Sienna's surprise, he had been trying to stop their magic and save them. She had no idea why he would want to do that.

  Everything stopped when Desmond entered the room, however.

  Reynolds laughed–a laugh that had no humor in it whatsoever.

  “Maestro,” he said, spinning around, “come to join our party?”

  “If that's what you want to call it,” Desmond said calmly as he strolled toward them. He glanced up to Sienna, and the Black Caesar drones spun around, temporarily pausing their own spell to watch this newcomer. He met Sienna's eyes and nodded.

  She used to be so in tune with Desmond. She used to know everything that he wanted, everything he was thinking of. But right now, she had no idea what side he was going to take.

  “Tiro, retract your magic. You will make yourself sick,” he said.

  “But Maestro–”

  “Obey,” he simply said, and she dropped the spell. Desmond then turned to the followers, his eyes ablaze.

  “Sienna is my Tiro,” he said. “And if you want her, you will answer to me.”

  It appeared that part of their brains had been melted, at least by their answer. One sneered, and the other crouched, as if ready to attack. She had seen their style of fighting when they had captured Nathaniel. They weren't particularly smart. Desmond might be able to do it on his own.

  “And I don't think you want to do that,” Reynolds said, indicating his own minions.

  Desmond glanced to Reynolds casually. “I am starting to think that your interest is purely for my Tiro and not for me,” he said to Reynolds, which distracted the former witch.

  “You always were a bit of a wild card, Maestro,” Reynolds answered. “And you always knew how to read me. Who wouldn't want the power of your Tiro on their side? She's a jewel!”

  “With a flaw,” Desmond answered. “She cannot sustain her own power. It will destroy her.”

  “Unless I teach her how to do it my way,” Reynolds said with a sneer. “That didn't make her sick.”

  “It didn't,” Desmond said softly. “And that is a blessing, at least.”

  Sienna's jaw dropped. “Maestro!” she cried.

  Desmond held his hand out to silence her. “It's a blessing,” he said, “because now she sees there are other paths for her, whatever she chooses. But this one, here, and now,” he glanced to Sienna and Devon, “is not the one. I think. Help me, Reynolds, to destroy this enemy, and we can both walk away from here.”

  Reynolds sneered. “Not a chance, Desmond. I know what you want. In your head, I will see the error of my ways and return to the Jurors. I will grovel, and they will forgive me, and all will be well. Maybe I could even take the tests and become a witch with a Tiro of my own.”

  “No,” Desmond was firm on that. “That is not what will happen. They will throw you in prison, Reynolds–perhaps for life, perhaps execute you. But in that time, in those moments of darkness, perhaps you will see the dawn and be at peace.”

  “Will you let them do that to me?” Reynolds asked. Desmond sucked in a breath, not expecting such a statement to affect him so much. Reynolds sounded so young when he said it that way–so helpless.

  “I…,” Desmond said, visibly torn.

  “Maestro!” Sienna's cry came as Devon's head dropped. His limp body slumped forward. “Please.”

  “Let the boy go,” Desmond said. “He's no use to you. He's dying. He's got no power of significance.”

  “But we can heal all,” Reynolds reminded him. “Even death. Even death.” He displayed his power in one powerful blast that made Desmond jump.

  Reynolds had barely looked in the direction of Black Caesar's followers, and yet he blew them to pieces. Debris, blood, and limbs were spraying, and Sienna screamed, whimpering as she was treated to a face full of alien innards. She was shaking, her arms suspended and aching.

  “Maestro,” she sobbed. “Please. Please!”

  Desmond's heart nearly shattered. “Reynolds, let her go! She's only a child,” he said.

  “Ha,” Reynolds answered. “I was only a child, Desmond, when the witches ripped me away from my family and forced me to train for a cause I didn't believe in. And now I walk the wrong path according to whom? To you! That's all.”

  “Reynolds,” Desmond said, but Reynolds wasn't done. Years of hurt and pain were pouring out as Reynolds spoke.

  “All those years, Desmond…wasted! Wasted! And had you not been so blinded by your hope, by your dreams–even by Mariah, for Creator sake–I could have had a real life. A family!”

  Reynolds' voice broke, and Desmond gently spoke.

  “Did we not create a real life for you?” he asked. “Mariah and I? Did we not go against what the Jurors told us to do to create a life for you that was stable and caring? We were your family, Reynolds. We supported you every step of the way. It is not too late–”

  “It is too late!” Reynolds screamed, and pushed magic forward.

  Sienna screamed as a blast of magic hit Desmond in the chest, throwing him against the wall. It wasn't a lethal blow, but she had clearly seen that Reynolds could do that in half a second if he wanted to.

  “The power you have is not real power,” Reynolds said to his fallen Maestro as he stalked toward Sienna. “I will show you real power. I will show you real strength.”

  With what seemed a simple flick of his wrist, he cut b
oth of their chains. Sienna had the advantage because she was conscious and fell to her feet. Devon, however, was unconscious, and slammed onto the floor, his head hitting the hard concrete.

  Sienna heard the crack and felt his life force leave him.

  “No!” she rushed toward him. The blood pooled from his head, and his eyes stared lifelessly at the ceiling. “No, no, no, no!”

  “It's okay, Sienna,” Reynolds said in a false soothing voice that sent shivers up her spine. “It's okay. We can bring him back. It's easy.”

  She hovered protectively over Devon's body, her arms trembling.

  Desmond was slowly dragging himself back to life on the other side of the warehouse. She wanted Nathaniel, and she wanted help.

  But she was alone for the moment. She had never been alone like this, never been so helpless.

  And yet, never been so powerful.

  “Don't,” she said, her hands swelling with magic. “Don't touch him. I don't want your magic. I don't want your ways.”

  “Do you want to sicken and die like him?” Reynolds asked. “Your boyfriend is dependent on everyone around him, every chemical and treatment. For you, it's manageable. I can show you a way to live, Sienna. I can show you true power; power that you were meant to have.”

  She shook her head, tears filling her eyes. “No.”

  “Wouldn't you like to be free?” he asked her. “Wouldn't you like to not be such a burden on the Maestros that you have ruined? Warriors who will never again reach their peak? Come with me and be free.”

  ‘Nathaniel,’ she cried out through her bond as Desmond fell to the floor again. ‘Nathaniel, please!’

  But Reynolds reached out, and she knew that even if Nathaniel was outside the door, she had no time.

  She had to get rid of Reynolds. But resurrection magic took all her power, or it used to.

  There was more power inside of her than she knew. And it came not from her, but from nature and from the support of her Maestros.

  They had come for her; they had put everything on the line to rescue her time and time again. Now, she was going to do the same.