by Anna Lowe
She looked into the heart of the gem, where tiny flames flickered and tossed. Then she hunched over the diamond, drawn in by what she saw. Those flames weren’t just reflections. The diamond heated in her hand, fueled by its own inner force.
I have power, the stone whispered. Faintly, then louder. I have incredible power, and you shall christen the victor of your choice.
She raised the diamond toward the sky, waiting for it to explain what to do. Which it would, right? The bits of Spirit Stone lore she’d picked up suggested the jewels had a way of communicating with their bearers.
She bit her lip. Those bearers always seemed to be amazing, courageous women selected by fate. She was just her.
For a split second, her knees wobbled, and she felt sick. But then she stuck up her chin, resolute. Okay, so witchcraft was not going to help her. So what did that leave her with, other than a powerful gem she was afraid to unleash?
She took stock. She had stubbornness. A firm voice that could cut across a noisy bar. A killer stare that could quiet the most unruly customer on a Friday night. Surely she could do this.
You just have to believe.
Eloise had meant magic, but oh well. That also applied to believing in yourself, right?
“Help me,” she muttered at the stone. “Damn it. Help me.”
Overhead, Drax aimed another burst of flame at Silas, who spun in midair and returned the volley.
Cassandra could feel energy coursing through her body the same way the sea breeze built to a steady wind that tossed and tangled her hair. The diamond glowed white, and she felt alive with power. Almost giddy with it. Her mouth broke open, and she let out a spiteful laugh, very much like Eloise used to do.
Drax would never know what hit him. Moira wouldn’t either.
Yes, the Windstone whispered, glowing brighter. Unleash my power.
Cassandra drew her arm back, ready to thrust it forward and release the power. But an echo of her own laugh sounded in her mind, and she stopped cold.
Whoa. Who was the vengeful bitch now?
She considered a moment longer. Unleashing the Spirit Stone’s power was one thing. Hauling it back under control might be another. Was she opening a Pandora’s box?
Her hopes sank. Using the Windstone would also defy everything Silas stood for. It was an ace up her sleeve, a punch below the belt. An unfair advantage.
She lowered her arm, trembling. If she used the Windstone, she would be no better than Drax. If she didn’t use it, Silas had no chance of surviving the raging dragon fight.
“Silas,” she whispered as a tear rolled down her cheek. What should she do?
Drax’s backup troops flew in a wide arc, circling the dueling dragons. Cassandra circled too, turning slowly, watching the fight unfold. She might as well have witnessed two gladiators in an arena — but this arena was high in the sky, and the spectators were a ring of dragons who cheered at each burst of fire.
Silas opened his wings wide and bellowed, releasing a huge flame. Drax twisted and returned fire. Silas immediately rolled, plunged twenty feet, then rocketed upward again, shooting a continuous line of fire at Drax’s belly. When Drax beat a hasty retreat, bellowing in pain, Silas pressed on, driving him back.
The other dragons watched too, and Cassandra’s hopes began to rise. Maybe they wouldn’t interfere. Maybe, like Silas, they knew that honor lay in a fair fight.
But just when Silas was at his maximum advantage and Drax in full retreat, two of the surrounding dragons came screaming down at Silas, one from each side. They each spat fire, and the flames overlapped in a flaming X, forcing Silas to dive. He spun as he plunged toward the ground like a biplane with its engine out.
Cassandra’s heart jumped into her throat. “Silas!”
At the last possible second, he flicked his wings open and rocketed upward, more furious than ever.
Cassandra stared, caught between wanting to hug Silas and to yell at him for scaring her to death. Fascinated too. His anger was a raging river that had burst every dam, and her caring lover had become a fighting machine.
Silas zoomed after one of the two dragons, roaring in disgust. Orange flames engulfed the fleeing beast, and a scream pierced the air. The dragon flapped in panic then hurtled to the ground. When he hit, the earth shuddered, and Cassandra did too.
“Cassandra!”
Silas’s roar had just enough of a human edge to it for her to understand, and she jerked her head up — then dove just in time to avoid the grappling claws of an oncoming dragon. Huge talons scratched at the air, barely missing her. Her ears popped from the sudden change in air pressure. She’d only barely scrambled to her feet when another dragon whooshed overhead, and she hit the deck again.
“Silas,” she murmured in relief. That was him, chasing her attacker away.
She jumped to her feet and ran, jumping over a glowing crevasse.
Don’t look down. Don’t look down, she ordered herself.
Of course, she did look, and her heart nearly stopped. The gap was only three feet across, but under her was free-flowing, molten lava. When she landed, the earth shuddered, and she yelped. Holy crap. She wasn’t standing on firm ground. She was standing — no, leaping — over a thin crust. Beneath that was red-hot lava that peeked out between slabs of cooled rock.
She sprinted onward, trying not to tread heavily. In the life she was used to, a place like this would be cordoned off and signposted with a dozen signs that said, Danger! Keep away!
But, hell. She’d long since entered the realm of shifters, who operated by a different set of rules. Rules that mirrored the harsh laws of nature: dog eat dog. Eat or be eaten. Survival of the fittest.
“Get him!” Moira shouted from Cassandra’s right.
Cassandra looked over, alarmed to see Moira closer than before. Her red dress billowed in the wind, and her face glowed with excitement. Excitement, as if the scene above were a game and not a battle for life or death.
Silas climbed back to high altitude, immediately reengaging Drax. The other dragons backed away, letting the fight proceed. Their eyes glinted, and each wore a knowing smirk as they observed the fight. Every time Drax faltered, a pair of his henchmen would sweep in, attacking Silas until he had no choice but to break away and engage them instead. Cassandra’s cheeks burned as anger built inside her. She had to use the diamond. If Drax could fight dirty, so could she. What choice did she have?
Silas will hate me for this, part of her mind screamed. I’ll betray his trust.
There’s no other way, another part yelled.
She turned in a slow circle, watching the fight rage on overhead. Slowly, she lifted the diamond and looked upward through it.
Release my power, the Windstone urged. Release it now.
“Silas…” she cried, holding on to the last S, drawing out his name in a plea. What should she do?
The air around her stirred as if she’d blown hard, and an image formed in her mind. An image of the candle by her bedside the previous night, flickering then extinguishing when she blew at it. Little tendrils of smoke had swirled in the breeze for a while, revealing the motion of the air.
The cigar smoke Drax had puffed at her at the gala was similar. She’d blown it right back at Moira, and man, had it been satisfying to watch the smoke churn near their faces.
She blinked. If one little puff could stir the air around her, then a big puff…
She looked up, wondering if she were crazy even to consider such a thing.
Yes, the Windstone whispered. Release me.
Cassandra sucked in a long breath the way she would for a deep dive. Then she exhaled, pushing all that air back out. A whoosh of wind blew out of nowhere, sending a dust cloud across the barren landscape.
The ends of her hair were dragged forward, and the diamond glittered in her hand.
She stared then tried it again. One little puff, then another, growing bolder each time. Each of her breaths unleashed a burst of wind that took on its own life, eager t
o attack anything in its path.
“That way. I want you to go that way,” she said as bushes bent and ashes scattered.
I’ll go anywhere I want, a contralto growled in her head.
She shook her head furiously. “You go where I want, or I don’t lend you my breath. Got it?”
An angry hum sounded in her head, and she wondered what that meant. Was she nuts to defy that mysterious power, or could she truly harness it? Apparently, the Spirit Stone depended on her to initiate each blast of air, so if she played her cards right…
A yellowish-brown dragon shot through the periphery of her vision, and without thinking, Cassandra brought the diamond to her lips and blew. Hard.
The wind howled, and a split second later, the yellow-brown dragon lurched as if hit by an invisible arrow. He tumbled head over heels before pitching to one side and flying off like a drunk.
Kill them. Kill them all, the voice in her head snarled.
The diamond glowed a terrifying white in her hand. The gem seemed just as greedy as Drax, ready to blast anything in its path, and she struggled to rein it in.
“Just the bad guys, damn it.”
The stone flared. I choose who and what I destroy.
She squeezed her hand in a choking motion. “I choose who and what you destroy. And if you don’t cooperate…” She motioned toward a steam vent.
It was terrifying and exhilarating at the same time — grappling with a force far more powerful than herself. A force that pushed at her like an internal wind, threatening to blow her soul away.
Cassandra gritted her teeth and shook her head, using every ounce of determination she had. “You will not interfere with those two, got it? Just the other dragons.”
The diamond growled its displeasure, but she refused to relent. It was Silas’s right to battle one-on-one, fair and square. All she would do was assure a fair fight.
She focused on the five remaining dragons that circled Silas and Drax. One extended its long neck and dive-bombed at her.
“There. That’s the enemy. You got it?” she screamed at the stone.
The gem warmed in her hand and yelled, Now!
She fought the urge off until the dragon was even closer. Closer…
Release my power before we are both destroyed! the Spirit Stone screamed.
“I decide. You wait,” she boomed.
The light coming from the diamond dimmed as if in surprise.
She gritted her teeth and waited until the dragon opened his mouth.
“Watch out, asshole,” she murmured, releasing another heavy puff of air.
Now, she barked in her mind.
The diamond flared as another windstorm erupted from her hand, knocking the dragon sideways. The beast rose, seeking escape, but she followed it with the diamond, keeping up the pressure until the dragon careened downward, flapping wildly.
Boom! The creature crashed into the ground.
Cassandra scurried backward as the dragon plowed along the landscape, barely keeping out of its way. When it stopped at last, the beast’s eyes glowed brighter, then dimmed. She let out a breath. Jesus, she’d have to be more careful next time.
More, the Spirit Stone cried. Give me more.
It was terrifying to feel that thirst for power, that desire for destruction. And even more terrifying was imagining it in Drax’s hands.
So do as I say, silly human, the voice scoffed.
Cassandra bared her teeth and snarled a reply. “No, you do as I say. Now be quiet and let me think.”
A ponderous silence filled her ears, and she gave herself a satisfied — if wary — nod. “Two down, four to go.”
She turned in place, watching Drax’s dragons wheel overhead. Two had huddled closer and were spitting daggers at her. Would they attack next? She frowned. Picking them off with hurricane-force winds might work when they didn’t expect it. But if the next attacker dodged her, she was toast — literally.
The ground underfoot crunched as she turned in a slow circle, desperate for a new tactic.
Turn. Keep turning, the Windstone whispered.
She did, keeping the gem raised, exaggerating the motion with every turn. Every time she exhaled, the wind howled. She traced an arc across the sky, building a circular shape, and kept blowing with brief gasps for fresh air.
Yes. Like that, the Windstone said.
Her eyes went wide as its tactic became clear. She was setting up a wall of wind, a perimeter the lesser dragons couldn’t cross. But, yikes. Did she have it in her to maintain that barrier?
Just keep blowing, the Windstone urged her.
She’d heard somewhere that dolphins used a similar tactic to trap schools of fish. They would circle beneath the fish, sending up a wall of bubbles the fish wouldn’t cross.
With one important difference, of course. Instead of trapping the dragons inside her circle of wind, she would trap them outside, leaving Silas a clear area for his fight with Drax.
She turned and turned, keeping up the wind. Letting it build and take on a life of its own. The air churned as a whirling storm cloud formed overhead.
Perfect, the Windstone hummed.
Silas darted toward Drax, launching a fresh attack, and one of the outlying dragons flew to his master’s defense. But the moment it entered the swirling wall of wind, the beast jerked from side to side like a plane in turbulent air. With a frustrated roar, the dragon twisted away and shot a frustrated flame into the deepening night sky.
The remaining dragons each took a turn at trying to sneak through the wall of wind, but it was a boundary that wouldn’t be breached. It was exhausting, but she steeled herself to keep it up as long as necessary. Silas was fighting just as fiercely, and it was up to her to cover his back.
Every time Cassandra turned, she glanced toward the outcrop where Moira was perched, yelling at the top of her lungs. But Moira’s cries were drowned out by the boom of the dragon fight and the crackle of thirty-foot flames.
Cassandra kept turning. One of Drax’s henchmen crossed her line of sight, and she pushed her upper body forward in a sudden spurt of breath. That translated to a punch of air that sent the dragon careening into the flight path of his comrade. Their wings clipped, and they broke apart. One flapped wildly, drawing clear, but the other swirled in the windstorm then dashed to the ground.
Boom! Another deadly impact vibrated through the ground. Another enemy down. And, shit — another fissure opened in the raw ground, exposing the glowing lava beneath.
Cassandra flailed her arms as the brittle lava gave way. She had no choice but to leap backward, hoping to get clear. She landed, first on her feet, then on her butt, blinking at the river of molten lava that had appeared where she had been standing a moment before. She scuttled backward, cutting her palms as more and more of the of the slope gave way. Finally, she reached what felt like firmer ground, and she looked around uncertainly.
Clumsy thing, the Spirit Stone sniffed.
“I’ll show you clumsy,” she muttered, jerking her hand toward the glowing lava.
That shut the gem up, all right. Cassandra scowled. If she survived this experience, she would write her own manual of handling Spirit Stones — or at least, this finicky one.
Rule number one, she mentally dictated. Show it who’s boss.
But it was hard to feel like the boss when the ground crumbled around her feet and her knees shook.
“Over there!” a deep dragon voice cried.
Wait. Had she heard that, or was the voice in her mind?
She spun and exhaled fast, countering a smaller green dragon that hurtled toward her with his mouth wide, about to exhale. And, shit. Those bastards spat fire, not wind.
She barely got her own huff out in time, stoking the Windstone. The dragon was blasted backward, dragging along the earth. A hissing sound exploded, and an entire section of earth gave way.
“Oh!” She threw her hands out for balance and backed up.
The dragon flapped his wings wildly, but i
t was too late. He fell into the magma, and after one last, tortured bellow, went still.
Cassandra looked away with a mortified gulp. Four down, two to go.
“Cassandra!” The sound was a garbled roar, but somehow, she understood it perfectly. Silas was warning her.
She stood quickly, rebuilding the wall of wind that had petered out. The other dragons screamed, shut out from the fight again.
And for a while, it worked. Cassandra kept up the exhausting task of maintaining that wall of wind, glancing down at her footing, then looking up again, guiding the wind around and around. But it was only a matter of time before she collapsed from the effort, and what then?
“Look out!” Silas roared.
She whirled just in time to see Moira rush at her from behind.
Cassandra thrust up her hands in defense, but she was too late to react other than with a scream.
“No!”
Chapter Twenty-One
Moira wasn’t a big woman, but she sure as hell could body slam. Cassandra crashed sideways, smashing her shoulder into the ground.
“It’s mine!” Moira screamed, reaching out with one hand.
Cassandra reached too, because the diamond had flown out of her grip. The instant it did, the wind died away. She watched in horror as the gem arced through the air. White light blazed in the darkening sky, heading directly for a crack in the earth — a crack that grew wider by the second.
“You fool!” Moira screamed.
Cassandra rolled clear of Moira as the earth rumbled and shook. The rock underfoot gave way, and she plummeted toward a freshly exposed river of lava. Heat rushed up at her as yet another section of rock gave out, and her skin scraped along the sawtooth edge.
“No!” Cassandra cried, clawing for a grip.
More rock crumbled, and she screamed as the outer crust gave way like too-thin ice. Then she was hanging by her fingertips, kicking in thin air. Her feet swung over a glowing river of fire.
Oh God. This was it. She was going to die.
As she flailed and held on for dear life, a flash of white light led her eyes to the diamond. It had bounced off a rock and balanced – barely – on an outcrop of smooth lava tipped perilously toward the river of fire.