Firestorm Forever

by Deborah Cooke

  When he was dead, Sloane carried him into the deep valley of the river, not wanting to take any chances. Only once Jorge had been exposed to all of the elements and his body had dissolved to ash, did Sloane race to help his fellow Pyr.

  The moon was sliding free of the eclipse, and he was glad to find Thorolf flying toward him bearing the remains of one fried Slayer and Brandon with the other. “Water!” Thorolf cried and his triumphant word echoed off the cliffs.

  Sloane watched the moon overhead as he caught his breath, and hoped all of his fellows had won.

  * * *

  Marco slid into the field beside Quinn’s home in a flash of blue light, only to find that Erik was holding down the last of the Slayers. His grip on his opponent’s neck was so tight that the Slayer could scarcely breathe. The Slayer was also cut to ribbons, his blood flowing like a black river, and the stench was enough to turn Marco’s stomach.

  He shifted to human form and jabbed the needle into a wound, emptying the syringe as Erik watched approvingly. The Slayer moaned. He thrashed. He opened his eyes and glared at Marco.

  “What have you done to me?”

  “Eliminated the Elixir from your body,” Marco replied. “It’s part of the Apothecary’s plan to heal the world.”

  This version of Boris sneered and spat, his disgust clear. Erik tightened his grip, holding his opponent’s gaze. “This time, death is forever,” he promised in old-speak, then squeezed the life out of him. The Pyr gathered around, breathing dragonsmoke and ensuring that the fight was sucked out of the clone.

  In moments, he was still and didn’t stir again. Marco stepped back with satisfaction.

  “Can you go to the others?” Erik asked. “I know you must be tired, but we need to know for sure that they’ve triumphed, too.” He pointed a talon at the moon overhead, and Marco saw that the first sliver of moon had slid from beneath the shadow of the eclipse.

  “The corpses have to be exposed to all of the elements,” Donovan said. “Let’s get that done before the end of the eclipse.”

  * * *

  Sloane had tended to Brandt and to Arach, and was relieved that they were both responding to the Apothecary’s song. He was tired, and he didn’t have any more of his unguent for Pyr wounds, but he was glad to use it all to help his fellows.

  “At least here we won,” Thorolf said, scanning the sky.

  “I hope that’s true everywhere else,” Chandra said.

  “Surely we’d feel different if we lost our powers,” Brandon said, his gaze also on the sky. Liz took his hand in hers and didn’t express the alternative aloud.

  “I’m not dead yet,” Arach said and rolled over with a grimace.

  “You might not ever have the chance to fight Slayers again,” Thorolf reminded him.

  Arach opened one eye. “I’d be good with that.”

  The others chuckled a lit, their uncertainty clear.

  That was when the spark lit on the end of Sloane’s talon, illuminating the night with its radiance. All gazes locked upon the small flame, and it lit their features as they gathered close.

  “A firestorm,” Rafferty breathed. “Your firestorm.”

  Sloane stared at its flame in wonder and awe, knowing what it was but barely daring to believe it. His firestorm was the final firestorm of the Dragon’s Tail Wars.

  Who was his mate?

  He was both glad that he’d kept from making a commitment to Sam and regretting it. He wished he’d treasured the bit of time they might have had together, but he wouldn’t have hurt her for the world. It had been hard to part, even knowing it was for the greater good, and more time in her company would only have made the break harder.

  He’d done the right thing.

  He hoped he felt some affection for his destined mate.

  He felt the air move around him and found Marco before him, that Pyr grinning as he eyed the spark.

  “Did we win?” Sloane demanded, needing the reassurance.

  “All clones dead and exposed to the elements,” Marco confirmed and the other Pyr cheered. “I’ve been to Virginia and Michigan. We’ve finished them all!”

  Rafferty recounted the part of the prophecy with satisfaction.

  “Firestorm, mate or blood sacrifice

  None or all can be the darkfire’s price.”

  “Of the choices, none is definitely the best,” Sloane said and they all agreed.

  He noticed then that Marco was brighter and more emphatically present. Marco had always seemed ethereal, or unrooted in their times. Now he was emphatically part of the world. Marco glanced around with satisfaction. “I’ll guess you finished Jorge, as well.”

  Sloane nodded. “He was ushered where he needed to be,” he said, thinking of his father. He felt both old and young, exhausted after the battle but invigorated by the spark of the firestorm.

  Marco congratulated him, then indicated the spark. “Looks like you get a reward for healing the world.”

  “She’s far away, though, whoever she is.”

  “I’ll give you a ride,” Marco offered. “You tell me the direction and I’ll take you to her.”

  Sloane nodded, then took flight with Marco. The Sleeper reached out a claw and Sloane took it, holding tightly so he wasn’t left behind. He knew the theory of spontaneous manifestation, but had never experienced it himself.

  They were surrounded by a swirling wind and enveloped in light. He heard the other Pyr wishing him well and then only the sound of the wind. He felt that he was caught in a tornado, but couldn’t be afraid when the firestorm’s light grew steadily brighter. Marco seemed to be at ease with this transition, although Sloane’s gut churned.

  It wasn’t just the transit. He was as nervous as a teenager on a first date, even though he knew that made no sense.

  He reminded himself that the firestorm was on his side.

  The Great Wyvern had chosen for him. He had trusted in that all of his life, and he wasn’t going to doubt it now.

  Marco brought them out of the wind and into a field of long grass. Sloane recognized Quinn’s house, then the Pyr gathered around to bask in the light of his firestorm. His fellows congratulated him and he was glad to see that Erik hadn’t been too badly injured. Mates and children spilled out of the house as the eclipse ended, their jubilation clear.

  “A world without Slayers,” Erik said with a sigh of satisfaction. “Who could have imagined we would ever be so lucky.”

  “Never mind that our children would be so lucky,” Quinn said, taking Sara’s hand in his. They all eyed the spark on Sloane’s fingertips and smiled with pleasure for him.

  “Go already,” Donovan said to Sloane with a grin, and he did. He shifted shape as they watched and took flight, turning one circle over them before he followed the firestorm’s beckoning heat.

  The spark burned brighter to the southeast. Sloane flew with one claw stretched in front of him, following the beacon of the firestorm’s light. His wings beat leisurely and he flew at a majestic pace. He would only feel this once in his life and Sloane wanted to savor it. He thought of all the firestorms he had attended, all the mates he had defended, all the Pyr he’d seen happily partnered. He thought of the firestorm’s power to heal and knew that if anything was going to mend his heartbreak over Sam, the firestorm would be the only force that could do it.

  He was over Lansing when the firestorm burned with bright vigor. Was the Great Wyvern bringing everything full circle? Sloane remembered very well that Quinn’s firestorm had been the first of the Dragon’s Tail Wars and it had been in Ann Arbor. He hadn’t been back in the area since.

  As he drew closer to Ann Arbor, Sloane felt the firestorm’s heat with a power that stole his breath away. His desire for his unseen mate was growing to dizzying intensity even as he acknowledged that the firestorms of the Dragon’s Tail Wars had come full circle. The Smith and the Seer. Who would be the Apothecary’s destined mate? What would be her contribution to the world, and to the Pyr? Sloane couldn’t wait to find o
ut.

  It was quiet near the river, and he landed in the shadowed darkness of Nichols Arboretum, shifting shape where he couldn’t be seen. The lights of the city drew him to the street, away from the cemetery and the shadows where the firestorm’s golden light could only draw attention. The Medical Center was brightly lit despite the hour and he strode down the quiet street, following the firestorm’s burn.

  When the firestorm’s heat led him past the emergency ward and the hospital itself, guiding him toward the research labs, Sloane dared to hope. He found his footsteps increasing in speed as he raced in pursuit of the firestorm’s promise. Far ahead of him, a woman came out of one of the buildings that housed the labs.

  She was blond, slender, and walked as if she were tired. She hefted a bag to her shoulder and jammed her hands into her pockets, turning her back on him as she trudged toward the downtown core.

  Better yet, he knew her.

  Sam was illuminated with a golden aura like a halo, a light that couldn’t have been anything other than what it was.

  Sloane smiled. He had to believe that there were some who thought Dr. Samantha Wilcox was an angel, because she had brought a cure to their loved ones. He strode quickly after her and she turned just before he caught up with her.

  Her eyes widened in surprise and pleasure. “Did you win?”

  Sloane nodded and she threw herself into his arms. Even without the heat of the firestorm, it would have felt good to hold her close. With the heat of the firestorm, it was amazing.

  Sam gripped him tightly and her words fell in a hurry. “I’ve been thinking. I miss you so much and I don’t care if you have to leave one day for your firestorm. I’ll take every day and every night I can get, just to be with you until that happens…”

  “But I just came to my firestorm,” Sloane said, interrupting her.

  Sam looked up, then stared at the fiery glow that surrounded them. Sloane lifted her hand and she gasped aloud at the flurry of sparks that emanated from the point of contact. She looked as awed as he felt.

  “I’m exactly where I’m destined to be,” he said.

  Sam’s eyes lit with delight. “There was an eclipse tonight. This is your firestorm!”

  “This is our firestorm,” he corrected, and Sam seemed momentarily speechless.

  “Are you sure?” she whispered, her eyes alight.

  “Can you doubt it?” he asked, then his heart matched its pace to hers. It was a sensation of overwhelming power and one he wanted to experience forever.

  If he could stand it. The Apothecary and the Physician. It was a perfect match.

  A sweet sexy heat unfurled in Sloane’s body, kindling a desire so powerful that he felt himself on the cusp of change.

  “You’re shimmering,” Sam whispered and he opened his eyes to find her watching him. The firestorm was golden between them, pulsing in its demand, and their gazes locked for a heady moment. “I thought I wouldn’t see you again,” she whispered. “I knew it was the right thing to do, but I’ve missed you.”

  Sloane pulled her closer. “I’ve missed you, too.” He shook his head. “What are you doing here? I thought you were in Atlanta.”

  “I was, but they’re doing some clinical tests here with the antidote, helping us out with the footwork. I made a quick trip to check on progress.” She leaned against him and sighed. “You should know that Jac is gloating that she provided the key.”

  Sloane chuckled, savoring the feel of her against him. “I like that we worked together.”

  Sam met his gaze, her expression worried. “You’re positive there’s no more Slayers?”

  Sloane shook his head. “No more Slayers. Not one.”

  “And no more blood moons. I checked.”

  “No more clones.” He brushed his lips across hers, savoring the tingle of sparks. “I checked.”

  “But the moon’s node doesn’t change for a few more days.”

  Sloane smiled down at her. “I think we’re good.”

  “And you’re here, against every expectation.” Sam ran her hands over his shoulders, then frowned. “Do two Pyr often have firestorms with sisters?”

  “It’s never happened before as far as I know. I thought it completely unlikely.” He bent and touched his lips to hers. Sloane caught his breath at the wave of desire that resulted from that fleeting touch. “I think it’s a gift of the darkfire, which makes the unlikely probable.”

  Sam smiled. “Or maybe the Apothecary is getting his reward for saving the world.”

  “I couldn’t have done it alone.”

  “But my reward has been more public. I was offered a university post.” She swallowed visibly, then looked up, a question in her eyes. “At Stanford.”

  Sloane nodded, feeling luckier than he could have thought possible. “Interesting that it’s almost commuting distance from this house I bought. The place needs a lot of work, but has charm.”

  “And idiosyncrasies.” Sam grinned. “The kind of house that you don’t easily forget.”

  “Just like a doctor I know.”

  They kissed then, a potent kiss that made him want to both hurry and linger over the firestorm’s gift. They were both breathless when he lifted his head, but there was one more thing he wanted to know.

  “I have an idea about that house, although you might not agree,” Sam said, her words coming quickly. “Jac helped with our finding the cure, and she loves that house. I don’t know whether she and Marco have decided where to live…”

  “But they could be neighbors, as well as family,” Sloane concluded. She nodded, her eyes shining, and he knew that the sisters were becoming closer. “I think it’s a great idea.”

  Sam laughed, then kissed him with an enthusiasm that left him dizzy. He broke their kiss with an effort.

  “You know what the firestorm means,” he said, hearing the tightness in his voice. “Tell me now if kids aren’t in your plans anymore.”

  “I’d like to have a son,” Sam said softly. “Jac has always talked about having a houseful of kids, and the appeal of the idea has been growing on me. I was disappointed that Nathaniel didn’t have brothers.”

  “I was disappointed not to have brothers, myself. A houseful of boys suits me just fine.”

  “Right.” Sam said with a nod. “No girls.”

  “No girls.”

  She smiled. “I think we’ll make good sons.”

  “I think we will.”

  “At least one of them will be interested in healing.”

  “The oldest will be the Apothecary,” Sloane told her, hoping that didn’t trouble her. “It’s a hereditary role.”

  Sam nodded, unsurprised. “Then maybe one of the others will go to med school.”

  “Maybe one will read tarot cards.”

  Sam laughed, her eyes sparkling in a way that made Sloane’s heart leap. “I want them to choose their own paths.”

  “I don’t have any doubt that they will,” Sloane agreed. He bent and kissed her again, intending it to be a quick kiss, but she responded to his touch so readily that the firestorm blazed between them.

  “Maybe we should get started on that plan,” Sam teased. “It’s going to take some time to have a houseful of boys.” She was squinting against the brilliant light of the firestorm, but kept leaning against Sloane in a way that made it burn ever brighter.

  “Maybe we should go somewhere private, somewhere that won’t attract attention.”

  “I have a little suite just a few blocks away,” Sam said. “And no commitments that can’t be canceled.”

  They locked hands and walked in the direction she indicated, the firestorm humming between them as they matched step with each other. Sloane took her bag, savoring the sensation he’d waited all his life to feel.

  “In fact, I have no commitments for the next week that can’t be canceled,” Sam continued.

  “It’s not going to take that long,” Sloane said and she smiled at him.

  “I want to linger over this,” she confide
d. “It only happens once, and you’ve waited centuries. Don’t imagine that I’m going to let you seduce me quickly.”

  “I could challenge you on that and make you change your mind.”

  “You could help me to study the undocumented force known as the firestorm. We need to observe its nuances and effects, and create a complete report.” Sam shrugged, her eyes dancing. “It could take weeks to be scientifically thorough.”

  Sloane inhaled sharply and gripped her hand more tightly. “I suppose, in the name of scientific discovery, it would be the only responsible thing to do.”

  “It would!” Sam laughed and dug the keys from her pocket. She led him up the stairs to a little apartment, unlocked the door. She tugged him inside then backed him into the wall to kiss him. Sloane caught her close and deepened the kiss, loving that her passion was so honest. “Those dark-haired strangers,” she whispered when he finally lifted his head. She was flushed with pleasure. “I’ve got to remember to warn people against their seductive powers, deep secrets, and ability to change lives.”

  “It’s only the Scorpio ones who can do that,” Sloane said.

  “It’s only the Pyr Apothecaries who can do that,” Sam replied.

  “There’s only one of those.”

  Sam’s eyes lit with triumph. “And he’s all mine, forever.”

  The only possible reply to that, in Sloane’s opinion, was a kiss that made further conversation impossible.

  Epilogue

  October 1, 2015

  The Pyr gathered in Chicago, at the converted warehouse where Erik and Eileen lived. All of the mates had come as well, and the children, and the loft was filled with jubilant noise. The kitchen counters were covered with contributions to the pot-luck dinner and the wine was flowing. Sloane watched with pride as Sam mixed and mingled, her aversion to dragons banished now that Jorge and the Slayers were dead.

  After they’d eaten and caught up on all of each other’s news, Erik tapped a spoon against his glass of wine. “We have a lot to celebrate tonight, but business to attend, as well. First of all, a warm welcome to Samantha and to Jacelyn.”