Pursuing Flight

by C. I. Black

  “Regis doesn’t agree with much of anything anymore, even when it’s in his best interest,” she said. “Don’t tell me you’ve been sitting here all this time trying to figure things out. People are going to start wondering where you are.”

  “Let them wonder.” Getting through the situation with as few casualties as possible was more important than the day-to-day functions of the Dragon Court.

  “Not sure that’s the attitude you want. Regis sees betrayal at every turn. If you don’t stick to your routine, he’ll suspect you of something.”

  “Even if I stay on routine, he’ll suspect me. I need answers and now.” He ran his hands through his hair, not caring that the habit had returned. “There just isn’t a good replacement. Hunter won’t raise a banner and even if he did, the Traditionalists will fight him. Nero, as a grandchild of the Zhongguo Empress, has a legitimate claim.”

  “But he’s a Traditionalist, and anyone who supports Hunter will see Nero as another Regis.” Ophelia pinched the bridge of her nose, a sign the voices in her head were getting hard to control. “Although if Nero isn’t actively going after Hunter, he might not be as much of a Traditionalist as we think.”

  “Do you know for certain?”

  “No. He doesn’t spend a lot of time at Court, and I was chasing down thoughts of an attack from the Sect of the Divine Mother when Regis called the Counseling Coteries meeting, so I couldn’t eavesdrop on anyone’s thoughts.”

  “I wish you’d been there. I really want to know what the other doyens are thinking.” Then at least he might have a clue if any of them would be better candidates for king. Although at a quick glance, none of them were great.

  Pike, who had the largest coterie, was too young and could barely control his members. He wouldn’t be able to control all of Court. Barna at least was an elder drake, but was heavily invested in the human realm and wouldn’t gain the support of any of the Traditionalists. And while Lothair and Maize were also elder drakes and in control of their coteries, their coteries weren’t as big, neither had a powerful earth magic, and they didn’t have any claim to the throne, making it difficult for either one to legitimately take it.

  The only other candidate could be Grey. He was an ancient drake, the Handmaiden’s servant, and most considered him the second in command in her coterie of two. But as Hunter’s friend, he’d run into the same problem as Hunter. Support from non-Traditionalists and rejection from Traditionalists.

  “There’s another ancient dragon you’re not considering,” Ophelia said with a pointed stare, clearly indicating he should consider himself in the running.

  “Yeah, no.” It was bad enough he was the chamberlain. He didn’t want the throne.

  “You know how to run Court. You have connections with every doyen, their Seconds, and their heads of security.”

  “Drakes see me as a servant to the Court. Nothing more.”

  “People respect you.”

  “Not enough. I’d need a powerful earth magic to maintain control, and I have nothing. I can’t even make a gate to leave.” One of his other worries, because if he wanted to get the hell out of Court, he’d have to go to a gatekeeper, and then Regis would know he’d left.

  Ophelia eased away from the wall. “You’re going to have to come up with someone.”

  “Why do you think I’ve been sitting here?” If Regis remained in power, dragons would die. If Tobias backed the wrong drake, dragons would die. And if Tobias approached the wrong dragon, he’d be charged with treason, and he’d be tortured for who knew how long until the Handmaiden returned and rebirthed him, essentially killing him.

  “How about picking a leader for the retrieval squad? You have a short list, even if you don’t like any of them.”

  “I don’t like the idea of a retrieval squad.”

  “Regis will expect one. And soon.”

  “You’re telling me something I already know.”

  “I know.” Ophelia sighed. “I just can’t help myself. I don’t like the position you’re in.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  “You just think the word, and I’ll gate you out of here.”

  “And then what will happen to all the dragons in the Royal Coterie you say I’m protecting?” he asked, throwing her words from earlier back at her.

  “Then, Mother of All, make a choice for king and do something.” She flashed her teeth at him, her expression all aggression. “Stop wallowing.”

  “Fine. Find out where Barna stands in this mess.” The doyen of the Major Brown coterie wasn’t ideal, but he was probably the best of all the bad choices. With Zenobia in prison, he could — most of the time — exert dominance over everyone on the council now, other than Nero, and he had the next largest coterie after the Major Green. There were more non-Traditionalists than Traditionalists—

  “I wouldn’t bet on that,” Ophelia said. “Zenobia’s coup with human mages has swung the pendulum for those drakes on the fence.”

  “Then also do a little eavesdropping on Nero. Find out if he really isn’t going after Hunter and his sorcerer.” Nero really was the best choice. He might be a Traditionalist, but he had royal heritage, he was an ancient dragon with a powerful earth magic — and, unlike Barna, had clear dominance over the other Counseling Coterie doyens. If he could somehow be convinced to form an alliance with Hunter, it would still alienate some of the Traditionalists, but with any luck not all of them.

  “Especially if Hunter’s inamorata can demonstrate she has dragon interests in mind,” Ophelia said, finishing Tobias’s thought, again. “The Handmaiden could be gone for a few hundred years. A sorcerer to help dragonkind during this transition, even if she is a human, would be a valuable asset to a new king.”

  “True, and I hate when you do that.”

  “You didn’t say that out loud?” Ophelia asked, blinking her lashes in mock innocence.

  “You know I didn’t. Now go eavesdrop on Nero and find out how much of a staunch Traditionalist he really is.” Mother, here was hoping he wasn’t. An alliance with Hunter would be everything he needed — and Tobias wasn’t going to think too hard about how difficult it would be to get Hunter and Nero to form an alliance. One step at a time.

  “Nero and Barna are second on my list.” Ophelia headed to the hall leading up to the main passages in Court. “The Sect of the Divine Mother is planning something, and soon. Whatever that is, it takes priority.”

  “Report as soon as you know something.” If she thought it was more important than finding a replacement for Regis and stabilizing Court, it had to be serious.

  “Deadly serious,” she said as she left.

  Ice churned in Tobias’s gut. Too much was happening too fast and too many dragon souls were being lost. If the Handmaiden didn’t come back soon, he feared there wouldn’t be a Dragon Court left for her to return to.

  43

  Diablo reached the front of his apartment building and jogged past the door for the fifth time. Mother, the beast still raged within him, and thanks to the God damned surge, other peoples’ emotions flooded him, as well. So much so, he thought he’d burst into flames or explode. With the luck he’d been having lately, it would probably be both.

  Six fights in the illegal dragon fighting ring and still nothing had eased. He’d even held his beast back for as long as possible, letting his opponents beat the shit out of him, drawing blood and breaking bones, before his control shattered and the beast went berserk. After his last fight, where the fighter’s manager had to hold his heart back in his chest to speed up his healing, Diablo left. That was one bridge burned. They were never going to let him fight there again. That dragon almost hadn’t survived, and he’d left one hell of a mess to clean up.

  He reached the alley between two apartment towers, three blocks from his, picked up his pace, and roared as he hit the shadows, desperate to release the pressure building within him. So many people feeling things. So many things. And he felt all of them. What control he had over his empath
y was gone. The ability to just think about shutting it off or turning it down was gone, vanished by the brush of a knuckle against the back of his jeans.

  Through his God damned jeans!

  It was a miracle the surge’s power hadn’t materialized before Diablo had found him in that parking lot. Mother, he couldn’t imagine trying to control all that emotion when Grey had been going crazy about Servius kidnapping Ivy. Dealing with Grey’s emotions had been hard enough with what little empathy he’d had to begin with.

  Now it felt like he’d grabbed a high voltage power line, and his beast was going insane. It needed to attack the danger, be in control, be the strongest baddest mother-fucking drake around. And while it might be — it would certainly fight dirty to win — being at the top meant dealing with politics. Something he didn’t have the skills or patience to deal with, and was smart enough to rein the beast in long enough to not get involved.

  Except he was involved in everything right now. That’s how he got zapped by the surge. Nero had lost control, was barely holding it together, and was inamorated with a soul-sick human. That had put Raven in danger.

  But a part of him couldn’t accept that. Raven had been in danger by the surge’s massive, uncontrolled power because she cared about these humans and wanted to help. Even if he let his beast scream at her, she wouldn’t back down from that. And he would never let his beast do that. She was the only true thing in his life. His rock. His sister. They’d been twins. Before the Scourge. And even though they’d both been reborn with new names and new interests, that knowledge, that connection formed in conception, always remained. He would die for her again and again if he had to, and he’d follow her wherever she went.

  The last time she’d been reborn, she’d gone to Nero. So had he. Nero had been good for her.

  Diablo passed his front door again.

  If he was honest with himself, Nero had been good for him, too.

  He’d met Andy, who’d proven to him that he could control the beast. The beast wasn’t in charge. Diablo was… had been. Now it took everything he had to keep from destroying his furniture in a rage that would only satisfy the beast for a moment.

  Grief swept over him in a massive wave and dragged at his control. Rage burned in after it.

  The beast slammed his fist against the side of a dumpster, crashing it against the building’s side with his enhanced strength and making a thunderous boom roar through the alley.

  He punched the dumpster again, crushing in its side.

  The beast howled, and the rage and grief burned hotter.

  Another punch. Another boom.

  He grabbed the lip of the opening, heaved, and swung it to the other side of the alley. It hit with another boom, toppled over, and spewed garbage bags over the broken asphalt.

  With a roar, he ripped off the lid and tossed it deeper into the alley. It ricocheted off the wall and crashed into another dumpster.

  Yes. More.

  He had to let it out. Release the pressure.

  But there was no end to it. All the beast did was rage. It was always ferocious. Letting it break and tear and howl didn’t release anything, it only made it stronger.

  A gust of confusion and fear swept through the rage. More fear, boredom, lust, craving, joy, all clawed past the beast. The apartment buildings were filled with people, and too many of them were awake at this hour. Except that wasn’t the truth. He wasn’t being overwhelmed by just the people in his vicinity. The magic the surge had flooded into him hadn’t just increased his ability to sense, but also his range. This was his earth magic at its strongest. It was crushing him, and the beast’s only survival instinct was to fight and kill.

  Destroy.

  The beast rushed toward the other dumpster.

  No.

  He staggered to a stop halfway down the alley. Trashing the trash bins wouldn’t solve anything. It wouldn’t make the emotions go away. And Mother, it had been hours since he’d been zapped by the surge. That meant it wasn’t going to go away at all. The effects were permanent.

  The beast screamed. It couldn’t live like this. Not with all that fear and desire and rage and even joy. It was too much. He was going to lose who he was, and the beast wouldn’t allow that.

  He clenched his fists. If he was smart, he’d gate to his apartment—

  Bad idea, the neighbors would hear him breaking his furniture— Nero’s? His room was too close to the kids’ rooms, and the transition suites were occupied.

  The beast screamed at that. He grabbed the lid of the broken dumpster and slammed it against the wall.

  Damn it. No.

  He tossed the lid behind him.

  His only option was some place remote. But he didn’t have a satellite phone. If Raven woke and needed him, no one would be able to get ahold of him. He couldn’t risk it. Too much was happening at Nero’s house, first with Anaea, then Capri and Grey, and now Nero himself. He had to stay close to ensure Raven and the kids were safe.

  God damn it. That meant there was no safe place to go where he could scream the beast into submission without endangering anyone. He was just going to have to suck it up and control it.

  He drew in a ragged breath and ran past the dumpster, out of the alley and along the deserted block.

  Andy had taught him control.

  Mother, Andy would have understood this overwhelming buffet of emotions, too. When he’d first joined the puzur, he’d been a teen with an out-of-control empathic ability, so strong Raven hadn’t been sure if he’d ever be able to fully know which emotions were his and which weren’t. That kid had grown into an amazing man and had taught Diablo so much about empathic earth magic, what it meant to really be a part of a family, and about friendship.

  Diablo growled.

  No way in hell was he going to ruin his friend’s memory by letting the beast loose. He could control this. The running wasn’t burning the beast’s energy away, so perhaps concentration on the calmer emotions within him might help.

  He reached his apartment building’s front door. If he was going to gate into his apartment, he’d need to run back to the alley to hide his gate from prying eyes. But the beast really wanted to smash that other dumpster, so he decided just to take the three flights up.

  Even taking the stairs three at a time did nothing to wear the beast out. Not that he’d expected it would. He’d spent the last few hours fighting and then running around. Physical exercise wasn’t going to do anything to bring the beast under control.

  Except he doubted concentration would, either, and feared nothing would.

  He reached the third-floor landing, yanked open the fire door — managing at the last minute to not rip the door off its hinges — and stormed toward his apartment.

  Just get inside and do that meditation thing Andy had taught him. Surely that would help.

  But his beast wrenched him to a halt before reaching his apartment, and his gaze leapt to the number on the closest door.

  306.

  Eva’s apartment. The new neighbor he’d been spending— and wanting to spend a lot of time with. The girlfriend Raven had been teasing him about. The one he didn’t want to accidentally hurt or scare with his beast.

  The lock on the door clicked, heard with crystal clarity in the quiet of the hall with his enhanced hearing.

  His pulse pounded. She couldn’t catch him here. Not like this. He had to get to his apartment, now.

  He drew his power to rapid free gate into his apartment, but the beast jerked him a step closer to her door and the power to gate vanished.

  The door opened, framing Eva in a simple red wrap dress that accentuated all her curves. His pulse, his whole essence, including the beast, stuttered. There was something about her that stunned him every time he looked at her.

  In that moment all he wanted, and all he feared, was for her to invite him in. Just ask. He’d say yes. Right now, he had no control over anything, including his beast.

  And that was what terrified him the most.<
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  44

  Nero pocketed his phone and let his gaze slide over his office. Dawn had yet to lighten the sky outside and only an hour had passed since he’d cradled Becca in his arms, strode beyond the edge of the gatelock, and returned home. It was hard to believe everything had changed just over twelve hours ago. The shelf where Diablo had slammed Grey last night was still broken, the books a tumbled mess on the floor, and the half-empty bottle of scotch still sat on the corner of his desk with the dirty glass beside it.

  Only twelve hours and his life had twisted out of joint, throwing everything in chaos, then wrenched back together in a new, stronger configuration.

  Inamorated.

  Again.

  He still couldn’t quite believe it, but the weight and surety pulsing around his heart couldn’t be denied. And he didn’t want to deny it. For whatever reason, he’d been gifted a second soul bond. A single soul bond was rare enough. A second one had never been heard of… and only a select few would ever know the truth.

  Not because he didn’t want to roar about his love to the world, but because she was human with magic and there was still a complicated mess at Court, inciting fearful dragons to want to kill her without question.

  His pulse raced at the thought.

  Not helpless, silly dragon, she said in his head, louder than the other voices still whispering at the edge of her — and his — senses. I’m working on keeping the chatter down, too.

  Didn’t say you weren’t. And he didn’t really care. The voices meant he could feel her presence. He couldn’t hear her thoughts — he might be able to if he concentrated, but he wasn’t going to — but just knowing she was there and sensing the strength of her spirit helped to calm his fears. He also felt — though he was afraid he was mistaken — a certainty in her soul about him… and them. The certainty had been a whisper when she’d realized she had healed a fatal injury and had been growing stronger as the hour progressed.