Pursuing Flight

by C. I. Black

  Dragons. They were the spirits of—

  Monsters. After what they’d done to her and the other captives, giving the monsters a name didn’t make them less of a monster. They’d been in her, tearing at her from the inside out. They’d—

  Another slash of agony cut through her and made both of them groan.

  But this monster, the devil’s master, was different. He wasn’t inside her, fighting her soul for her body. He was—

  Still a monster. The monster the other monsters feared. He—

  Nero. He sounded exhausted. My name is Nero.

  I really don’t care what your name is. A gust of wind swept into the alley, making her teeth chatter and her heart skip a beat. Was that him controlling the wind? But she didn’t see him, and the gust vanished. She needed to put more distance between them and get away. It was her only hope. She had to end this conversation and get across the street to the—

  Where? His thoughts in her head tightened, as if trying to focus.

  There. That? He was stuck, merely a passenger. Did that mean she had control over him?

  Mother, that was the truth… Except she was pretty sure he had thought that and not said it directly to her.

  In fact, if she thought about the last few minutes, they’d been half responding to thoughts spoken directly to each other and half to just thoughts.

  Oh, God. If he could hear thoughts she wasn’t thinking at him—?

  She needed to be more careful. The monsters from before had made it clear. If the dugga —the monster she now knew was the devil’s master — got a hold of them, both monster and human would be killed without a second thought. He’d already tried to kill her once. She couldn’t let her location or where she was going to meet Werner slip out. Hell, she didn’t even know if she could control that.

  The drug-induced weight in her limbs flared and her heart leapt into a rapid tattoo. She had to get him out before she did anything. Out. Get out. He had to get out now.

  I’d love to, he growled back, but a sense that he couldn’t let her go seeped past his mental words and tone. She endangered everything.

  I’m not a danger to you.

  You’re the greatest danger I’ve faced in recent history.

  Yeah, right. That was just more proof that this was a nightmare. Sure, she’d been a competent soldier and risen to the rank of captain before retiring, but she was still only one person. This monster controlled the wind and the other monsters feared him. She couldn’t possibly be a danger to him. Besides, it was just a nightmare.

  It’s not a nightmare. Although it was certainly becoming one for him. Mother, he had no idea how to make her accept this was real.

  It isn’t real. And she was shutting him out. She concentrated on the essence within herself, that part of her, her soul, that the other monsters had forced into a tiny mental box. She was stronger than some nightmare monster, and she would kick him out.

  Her muscles trembled, shooting agony through her chest and shoulder. The monster, Nero, groaned.

  Becca, please.

  That’s Captain Scott to you. It was her mind. She was in control.

  Nero’s essence gasped as if fighting for breath. Her trembling increased, but the Versed, still coursing through her veins, dulled the edge of the pain and the convulsion. She was kicking him out and taking charge. Her nightmare. Her mind.

  Another blast of agony shot through her, and Nero screamed.

  Son of a— His essence snapped tight into ferocious primal rage, his murderous intent clear, making her pulse race faster.

  This is my head. I said get out.

  And I said I’d love to. But there was nothing in the raging emotions indicating he wanted out or had any intention of letting her go. He wanted her gone, wanted the danger she presented to be eliminated, and he’d stop at nothing to end her.

  Fuck you. She tightened her will on him and imagined a solid metal box. If those other monsters could lock her away in her own head, she could lock him away.

  Another blast. Nero screamed again. Something squealed. But it wasn’t his essence being forced into the box. He was still too big for her to mentally hold on to. She had to crush him down, had to—

  A thunk. Heavy metal? Voices? Whispered voices…? No, not whispered—

  She blinked, not realizing she’d been so focused inward that she’d stopped paying attention to her surroundings. A black van, like the van Stanbury’s men had driven when they’d first picked her up a few days ago, had stopped at the alley’s mouth, and two men in tactical gear rushed out while two more stayed in the van, the one on the right aiming a Glock — not a Taser — at her.

  How the hell had they found her?

  But it was a dream. Of course they’d found her.

  “Get in the van,” the guy on the left said. His hand dipped to the sidearm holstered at his hip, and he squared broad shoulders almost twice the width of hers.

  “I’m not going back.” Not to the devil’s master, not to the monsters in the cave, and not to Stanbury. Becca tightened her grip on the knife and widened her stance. The whispers grew louder, pressing against her senses. She darted her gaze down the street, but knew, with gut-churning certainty now, that the voices were inside her.

  Becca. Nero’s essence flared, cutting through the other voices and straining against her mental grip. What’s going on?

  With the Versed still dragging her down there was no way she’d win a fight against one of these guys. But they had her cornered and fighting until she could get past them was her only option. God, it’d be so much easier to concentrate if the voices would just shut up.

  Becca—? Four of them? Nero swore and groaned. Holy Mother, that hurt. Hold on. I’m coming.

  I said get out of my head.

  And I said I’d love to, he barked back at her.

  The man on the left jerked his chin at the other guy — a smaller guy with a fist-sized welt on his cheek, probably from the fight at Stanbury’s hospital. Welt Guy lunged at her, reaching to capture her arm. She leapt into his attack, sidestepping his grab, and thrust the knife blade under the bottom of his Kevlar vest and into his gut.

  He screamed, and the first man seized her other arm and yanked up. Pain exploded through her shoulder, across her chest, and over her neck.

  Nero howled in her head and a thick darkness swept around her. The whispers grew louder, turning into the roar of a crowd, the words still unintelligible and grating against the inside of her skull.

  Welt Guy seized her other wrist and snatched the knife from her hand. They heaved her to the van’s door, and the man with the Glock jumped out to cover them. The fourth guy set a phone on the floor by his feet and twisted his fist into the front of her hospital gown.

  She wrenched against his grip. No way in hell was she getting into that van. There’d not be another opportunity to escape if she let them capture her again.

  One of the men behind her shoved her forward, smashing her face and chest against the van floor. Van Guy bumped the phone with his foot. It skittered closer and the screen flared to life. A stationary green dot flashed on a map, and the words at the top read: Subject 147006 – Rebecca A. Scott.

  What the hell? She wrenched again, fighting to get free.

  The first guy leaned against her. “Go ahead. Fight all you want. Even if you manage to get away, we can still find you.”

  Van Guy chuckled. “Yeah, you’re low-jacked.”

  “Like a criminal on house arrest,” Welt Guy said.

  But she wasn’t wearing an ankle or wrist bracelet. It had to be in her clothes—

  “More like an expensive car.” Glock Guy sneered. “And the tracker is implanted under the hood.”

  Her breath caught in her throat, and the crowd’s noise thundered in her head. “Implanted?” Now she knew it had to be a nightmare, but if it wasn’t—

  God, she didn’t want to think about that. All the things she’d survived, and the hopelessness of this reality. Even if, against all odds,
she could escape Stanbury’s hospital again, they’d always be able to find her.

  Hold on, Nero growled. Pressure filled her head, and the sense of an enormous power rushed over her.

  “Holy shit,” Van Guy said, his gaze locked behind her, and his grip on her gown loosened.

  Becca twisted enough to see. A black hole swelled to man-size against the front of the closest building and Nero leapt out. His expression was hard, his eyes filled with a deadly calm, and he looked every bit the monster the other monsters feared.

  The man with the Glock fired two shots. They slammed into Nero’s chest near his heart, drawing a roar and a ferocious wind that ripped Glock Guy from the van and tossed him against a streetlight pole with a sickening crack. Blood rushed over the front of Nero’s pale blue dress shirt, and the muscles in his jaw clenched. His pain burned past the Versed and across Becca’s chest, but the man— the monster didn’t drop.

  “Get her in the van,” the first guy said. He released her and drew his Glock from his hip holster, but Nero flicked his hand and another blast of wind smashed the guy through the boarded-up window of the store beside them. Another flick and a whip of wind sliced deep into Welt Guy’s forearm. His hold on Becca’s wrist loosened, and she wrenched free from both his and Van Guy’s grips. She punched Welt Guy in the face. His head snapped back, and the knife he’d taken from her fell to the van floor.

  She seized it and slashed at Van Guy. He staggered back, scrambling to draw his Taser, but another gust of wind smashed him against the van side and shoved him and the vehicle into the center of the street.

  “Come on.” Nero grabbed her forearm. “We have to get out of here.”

  She jerked around and rammed the knife into his gut. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  His wind snapped around her, yanking her closer to him and pinning the knife in his body.

  Holy God, how is he still standing? Shot twice and now stabbed. His agony radiated through her, churning with the screaming crowd in her head, and the Versed.

  “I’m not letting them take you again.” A black vortex formed under their feet, his power straining, as if the pain, controlling the wind, and now summoning the vortex were too much.

  Please let it be too much. Please let his wind falter when they stepped through to the other side, and please let there be a way to escape. It was her only hope. Stab him again and run like hell—

  Except he was still in her head, and it seemed he could find her as easily as Stanbury’s men could with the GPS tracker embedded in her body.

  10

  Nero staggered through the gate, pain screaming through his body from the gunshot wounds in his chest and the knife in his gut. His foot hit solid ground, his wind stuttered, and Becca wrenched away, taking the knife with her, just like she’d planned.

  Raven dropped her book and stood. She’d been sitting in a chair beside the cot with the new intake — a young man whose yellow aura burned Nero’s eyes just glancing at him. They were in the puzur’s primary safe house, the secure set of rooms in the back of a warehouse held by one of Nero’s many anonymous holding companies. It had been fitted with a bathroom, two hospital cots, basic medical supplies, a kitchenette stocked with food, and a monitor with the feeds of two security cameras trained on the areas outside the front and back doors. Everything Raven needed to help the humans they rescued stay sane and safe during the awakening of their earth magic.

  What? No, I— Becca gasped. Something rushed across Nero’s mind. It felt like a blast of mental wind, howling with sudden force, then vanished. She jerked back, putting both Nero and Raven in her line of sight, as if she’d sensed Raven’s presence behind her. Which meant there was a possibility her mental abilities weren’t just connected to him.

  “I said, get out.” Becca’s gaze jumped to the man in the cot. “And let me guess. This is how you plan to help me?” Torture first, then kill. That’s what the other monsters did.

  “I’m not the other monsters.”

  Raven frowned.

  One of the bullets — one that had gotten trapped in his body — popped from Nero’s chest and clattered to the concrete floor.

  Becca’s eyes flashed wide. Oh, my God. She tightened her grip on the knife, even though her thoughts recognized stabbing him wouldn’t kill him.

  “You’ve been shot?” Raven’s frown deepened.

  “Already healed.” Mostly. He raised his hands, palms up, the universal sign of harmlessness. “Becca, we need to disable that implant.”

  “There is no we.”

  The mental wind swept through his head again, and he gasped. So did Becca.

  “Nero?” The muscles in Raven’s jaw tightened.

  “I said I wasn’t going back. Not there, not to the hospital again, and not with you.” She lurched toward the man on the cot. “And I’m taking him with me.”

  “They’ll find you. Let me at least deal with the implant.”

  “Like you’d actually help me.” She staggered another step toward the cot.

  Raven tensed and her mouth opened — likely to hiss her power word and summon her wind magic.

  Nero gave a tight shake of his head. He needed Becca calm, needed her to see reason. Mother of All, needed her.

  She barked a harsh laugh. “There’s no reason in a nightmare. It doesn’t make sense. Just like popping a bullet out of your chest.”

  The mental wind swept through him again. She groaned. Pain burned over his face, down his neck, and into his chest. This wasn’t the pain of the gunshots. That was mostly healed. This was her pain, her broken bones and the shattering of her mind.

  How the hell was he going to convince her this was real? How could he convince her he wasn’t going to hurt her?

  You can’t. “You’ve already tried to kill me. You shouldn’t have hesitated.”

  I had no choice. Mother, it hurt just thinking he’d tried.

  “Bullshit.” Becca inched back another step. The back of her thighs hit the cot and she glanced down.

  Nero followed her gaze. Ah, shit. The new intake had been restrained. With how ferociously his power had been threatening to manifest when he’d sent Diablo to bring him in, it wasn’t a surprise. Earth magic often required a word and a gesture, and only a few highly experienced drakes managed to eliminate the need for one or both. Restraining the young man helped ensure Raven’s safety when his magic fully appeared, in an attempt to eliminate the gesture aspect of summoning the power.

  Another blast of mental wind and another groan in unison.

  “What’s going on?” Raven asked, her body tense, ready to attack.

  “Your boss here thought I’d be an easy target.”

  Now, that doesn’t make sense. “I’m trying to help, and if we don’t deal with that implant, those men from the facility will find you again. I don’t know how much time we have.” If their dragon master can create a gatelock, that dragon can make a gate, as well.

  “Gates and locks?” The agony swelled, and she pressed her palm to her temple. “I said get out.” No, I’m getting out. “And taking him with me.”

  She yanked open the restraining cuff and grabbed the young man’s wrist as his aura flared blindingly bright. White lightning shot through Nero’s head and Becca screamed. They dropped to their knees. The muscles in his chest seized and people, a horde of people, yelled, screamed, howled, whispered, hissed, roared in his head— no, her head.

  Raven rushed toward him. “No, Becca. Sedate her.” It was the only solution. Knock her out, deal with the implant, then deal with her… somehow.

  “I’m not going back. I won’t be your prisoner again.” Never again.

  The last words pounded into him, crushing his essence with their force.

  Raven snatched a pre-loaded syringe from the drawer in the cot. She hissed her power word and snapped a lasso of wind around Becca’s arms, pinning her to the floor.

  “I won’t go back!”

  Raven shoved the sleeve of Becca’s hospital go
wn up and jabbed the needle into her biceps.

  “Half dose,” Nero gasped. “Already been dosed with something.”

  Raven bared her teeth in disagreement but obeyed. Thank the Mother. He didn’t know what he’d do if he lost another inamorata. He didn’t even know Becca, and with her stabbing him, she clearly wasn’t inamorated back — she’d have hesitated like he had — but a second loss would surely shatter his soul. The Mother only knew how he’d survived that first loss.

  Becca wrenched against Raven’s wind and screamed. Her agony, physically and mentally, seared through him, stealing all breath and thought, and then, between one heartbeat and the next, a weight flooded her and she collapsed.

  Raven glared at him. “What the hell was that?”

  “Complicated and not anywhere out of the woods.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed Capri.

  “Anaea said Tobias had called you into Court,” Raven said.

  “He had.”

  “What?” Capri asked over the phone.

  “Where’s Gig?” He was the only drake Nero could think of who, with his ability to magically control technology, would be able to quickly deal with the tracker implanted somewhere in Becca’s body.

  “Gig?” Capri’s tone turned wary.

  Raven glared at him.

  “You owe me.” He didn’t want to get Gig involved with his puzur — the fewer drakes who knew about it, the better — and he had no idea if he could trust Gig. But Grey had said the young silver drake had stood by him and Capri to help Hunter, even knowing Hunter had broken dragon law and body-shared. With luck, Gig wouldn’t have the rare ability to see the difference between human mage and dragon auras and everything would be fine.

  “Is this coterie business or Court business?”

  “I’d go through the proper channels for Court if it was. Where is he?”

  “Here, at headquarters, in the communal living room.”

  “Is Swipe there?” The other member of Capri’s team.

  “No.”

  “Good. Tell him I’m coming.”

  “Nero—”

  He hung up before Capri could argue and summoned a gate underneath him, so he wouldn’t have to stand. His power swelled, burning with mental agony, and enveloped him. God, even with Becca unconscious, his head still hurt. He straightened, using the woolly black weightlessness to help him stand, and staggered into the communal living room of the North American Clean Team headquarters.