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Dragos: The Complete Bundle (Books 1, 1.5, 2, 3 and 4)

Page 24

by Amber Kallyn


  But if felt good, right.

  Adrenaline rushed as power flowed into her body. She felt as if she might burst, grow wings and fly with the dragons fighting above.

  * * *

  Ty drove the Other further from the stadium, then reared back, preparing to blast the unnatural thing from the sky.

  As he bellowed at the creature, it plummeted toward the barren desert far below.

  Ty tucked his wings close and dove after it. As it approached the ground, it was as if a shadow rose to meet it, to swallow it whole.

  The Other disappeared.

  Not bothering to search for the thing, probably called back to the evil mage by magic, Ty put on a burst of speed, hurtling through the air back to the stadium.

  Back to Bree.

  She had to be safe.

  She just had to be.

  * * *

  Directly in front of Bree, the fire flared, flames growing higher, which shouldn’t be possible. A tall, hooded figure strode through the flames, unconcerned.

  Another nymph?

  Here? Now?

  The power radiating from the figure didn’t feel like her own. It was darker, sending a slimy, icy coating of sweat breaking out over her face.

  “You,” the figure whispered.

  Bree couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman, but she didn’t want to stick around long enough to find out.

  Slowly, she backed away. The fire followed, as did the cloaked person, walking through it untouched.

  Someone bumped her from behind and she reeled, stumbling forward.

  As she turned, Bree caught sight of a stricken Ty hurrying her way, and a bemused, Donovan slinking from sight.

  “Bree!” Ty called.

  When she glanced back to the fire, the figure was gone. Nothing seemed out of place. Once more, she concentrated on her magic.

  The flames licking across the stage dimmed, darkening as they grew smaller.

  They crept closer and she allowed the fire to crawl over her feet. It disappeared as she drew it deep inside.

  People with water and fire extinguishers gathered, putting out the last smoldering areas.

  Flooded with power, Bree wanted to race a few laps around the building. Maybe the whole city.

  But as firemen arrived and began assessing the scene, she was hustled to the first row of seats and told to wait for the investigator to show up.

  Bree fidgeted, unable to sit still. Not just from the magic brimming within her, or the adrenaline rushing through her from the fire and her friends almost being hurt.

  She was the pyro. The fire effects were her responsibility.

  But she didn’t make mistakes.

  Chapter Seven

  “You can’t be here, buddy.”

  Ty turned to the heavily geared fireman, slipping his wallet from the back pocket of his sooty jeans. He flipped it open and held out the badge.

  It looked similar enough to a US Marshal’s badge no one ever took a second glance—unless they were creatures who knew of the Magic Council.

  “Wow, you guys are fast. Our investigator isn’t even here yet. But what’s a Marshal doing at a fire scene?”

  Ty let his eyelids drift partly closed and smiled tightly.

  The man gave a sharp nod before continuing around the stage, searching for any hint of remaining embers.

  Ty watched the men work, trying to keep an eye on the band members huddled near the doorway to the dressing rooms. Realizing Bree wasn’t among them, a sharp clamp of panic tightened around his ribs. Then he found her, huddled, shaking, in the front row of seats. Hands clasped in her lap, fingers twisting, she continually glanced up at the stage, then turned to watch the crowds still milling around the stadium.

  Slowly, the concert goers were replaced by people in uniforms and business suits.

  Ty tapped his foot as he waited.

  Finally, his sister came hurrying toward him, her face pale, eyes rimmed red with her dragon magic.

  Behind her, Scott tried to keep up with the whirlwind. It didn’t help he was lugging Calla’s twenty pound investigation work bag. Another, older man followed.

  Reaching him, Calla threw herself into his arms, hugging his waist tightly. “You’re lucky you’re safe or I’d have to hurt you.”

  Ty laughed. “You know fire can’t hurt us, darlin’.”

  “I don’t care,” she whispered against his chest.

  Scott caught up, a wry expression lighting his face.

  Ty threw the man a “help me” look and finally the two of them managed to pry Calla away.

  The older man reached Scott. “Well, now. Another Dragos I ’spect?”

  Scott laughed. “Yup. They’re all over the place.” He turned to Ty. “This is Fred—my family’s friend from Jasper.”

  Ty nodded, shaking the old man’s hand. As they touched, a spark raced over his skin. Not bothering to comment or question it, Ty said, “I’ve heard a lot about you from Calla.”

  The old man beamed, his wrinkled face making him look like a hound dog who’d just gotten a treat. Calla patted the old man’s arm, then headed toward the stage.

  “She’s a good girl,” Fred commented as she waddled away.

  “Yup.” Ty watched the old man, thinking of some of his sister’s comments.

  He was an enigma. Calla, usually able to spot a mystical being from a mile away, still hadn’t figured this old man out. It was interesting.

  Scott maneuvered Calla toward the Fire Chief. She grabbed a notebook and a pen from the bag slung over Scott’s shoulder, faced the chief and started peppering him with questions.

  With Calla settled into her job, Ty turned his gaze back to Bree.

  “Excuse me. There’s someone I need to see to,” he said.

  Fred smiled. “Ayup. I ’spect so.”

  Wondering what the old man had meant, Ty headed for her side, while keeping the band in his view. There was no telling if the mage or his minions would try a grab in this melee.

  “How are you,” he asked, giving Bree a quick once-over.

  “How do you think I am? I know how these people work. They’ll find me at fault. But I don’t make mistakes.”

  Ty hunkered down beside her. Her knee slid an inch closer, and he scooted over to lean against her leg. “I signed off on everything. You don’t think they’ll assign some of the blame to me?”

  Bree snorted, her eyes narrowing. “The son of Dragos Pyrotechnics? Hell no.” She shuddered.

  Taking her hand, Ty stood and waved Calla over. As his sister waddled closer, Bree’s eyes widened.

  “Calla, I’d like to introduce you to Bree Jones, the band’s pyro,” Ty said, tugging Bree to her feet.

  Calla’s swift glance took in their clasped hands, and a soft smile drifted over her lips.

  “Bree, this is the arson investigator, Calla Dragos.”

  Bree stiffened, glaring daggers at them both. “Thank you for proving my point so sharply,” she mumbled.

  Calla blinked, looking to him for explanation.

  “Bree thinks since she’s not a local we’re going to pin this on her.”

  Staring at Bree, Calla’s eyes softened. “Honey, don’t worry. I don’t ‘pin’ anything on anyone. And I can pretty much guarantee you’re not at fault here. My little brother wouldn’t pass off on shoddy work.”

  Chapter Eight

  The woman’s forceful personality hit Bree, as did the truth of her words. For some reason, Bree immediately liked, and trusted, her. Strange. She fidgeted uncomfortably at the unusual feelings.

  Latching onto the woman’s last comment, Bree’s lips twitched. “He’s your little brother?”

  Considering Ty was a bit taller than her own six feet, and almost a half a foot taller than the woman in front of her, the term was amusing as hell.

  “Yup. Now, don’t you worry. The stage is almost cleared for me. I’ll let you know my findings as soon as possible, all right?” Calla asked. “Ty, I need to talk to you for a minute.” She
turned and headed closer to the stage.

  With an embarrassed shrug, he followed.

  Bree missed the warm contact of his hand. Yet even more strangeness.

  She wasn’t one to rely on others for anything, especially comfort. She’d learned better. Other people always let you down.

  Rick called her from the area leading to backstage. Bree didn’t care she’d been told to stay near the seats. She hurried over to the huddle of band members.

  As she passed near the stage, she overheard Calla talking to Ty.

  “… know he was here?” she asked.

  “The master didn’t show that I could tell, just his dragon puppet.”

  Their words drifted away as the band swarmed around Bree. She wanted nothing more than to stomp over to Ty and Calla, demand they tell her what was going on. This was starting to look like it wasn’t just an accident.

  Donovan pushed his way in front of her. “What did you do wrong?” he shouted.

  Back stiffening, Bree calmly replied, “Not a damn thing.”

  Bobby and Karl, both guitarists, grabbed him, pulling him away. Rick, still holding one of his drum sticks, took her arm. “Sorry.”

  Bree shrugged. “It’s fine.”

  “Any word yet? No one’s telling us anything.”

  Bree pointed to Calla, now walking on the stage, staring at the floor and writing in her notebooks.

  “She’s the investigator. We’ll see what she turns up.”

  Rick shook his head, his basset hound face sadder than normal. “We ain’t gonna let no one blame this on you, girl.”

  A hint of love for the man, who always treated her like his family, crept into her chest. Her throat tightened, a lump making it hard to talk. “Thanks.”

  His hand tightened. “Serious. They won’t blame you.”

  She nodded at his kindness, but once more uncomfortable at the feelings stirring inside, she joked, “What’ll you do, show them your horns?”

  His eyes flashed with amusement. “Us satyrs are pretty stubborn. Don’t you know that’s where goats got their hardheaded name?”

  His smile dimmed as he looked over at Calla. “So, what’s with all the brimystone dragons around?”

  Bree glanced from Calla, to the man following her, to Ty. “Are all three dragons?”

  Kari slid up beside them, snaking her arm around Rick’s waist. The girl sniffed the air, her eyes widening.

  “I smell more than dragon. One of them is nymphy. Like you, Bree, but not like you.” She shuddered, only Rick’s grip keeping her from sliding to the floor. Her voice trembled. “I smell evil. Dark magic filling this place.”

  “You sure, kitty cat?” Rick asked, using the nickname that never failed to draw a smile from Kari.

  Until now.

  The cougar shapeshifter continued to shiver in Rick’s arms. “I want to leave. I’m scared.”

  Considering Bree had seen the woman take on a group of bikers, laughing the entire time, and come out on top, the sight of the her frightened struck a nervous chord.

  She turned to glare at Ty. “The Dragos people know more than they’re letting on. We need to get the information they have.”

  Rick nodded Ty’s way. “Go for it, girlie. I want to get Kari out of here. We’ll be in my room.”

  Bree gave the girl a pat on the shoulder as they left, then strode to Ty’s side.

  Just as she opened her mouth to demand answers, Calla jumped from the stage, landing in front of them. Her fall, though, was controlled, as if the very air around her was floating her to the floor in spite of gravity.

  “You shouldn’t do that in your condition,” the man, O’Neil, grumbled, still on the stage.

  Calla smiled brightly up at him. “Why not? I know you’ll always catch me if I fall.”

  Ignoring the confusing byplay, Bree tugged on Ty’s arm. “We need to talk. Now.”

  Calla waited for the man to slide from the stage, then, arm in arm, they stepped up to Bree.

  “You’re different,” the guy said.

  Calla nodded at him. “My husband, Scott.”

  Bree glanced at him. As she tried to turn back to Ty, she was caught by Scott’s grayish-green gaze.

  The world spiraled into an abyss, spinning around and around. Nausea built in her stomach. Her heart beat a staccato tempo faster than Rick could play his drums. Kari had said the man was like Bree.

  Slowly, he stepped closer, his gaze still an unbreakable trap. “Who are you?” he asked, his voice deep and gravelly.

  Bree tried to open her mouth, but couldn’t speak. She couldn’t move.

  Ty snapped his fingers in front of her face and the connection between her and Scott broke. Tremors ran down her body at how helpless she’d been.

  “What the hell are you?” she demanded hoarsely.

  Scott took her hand, but nothing adverse happened. “I am an elemental as, I do believe, are you.”

  Bree glanced at Ty and Calla, then down at Scott’s hand on hers. She didn’t dare meet his eyes again. “Fire.”

  “Air,” he replied.

  “So what was that?” Bree asked.

  “Don’t know.” He let go of her hand and drew Calla against his side, arm over her shoulders, fingers rubbing her skin. “Do you, darling?”

  Calla slowly shook her head, leaning into his embrace. “I bet Dad would. He’s up at the cabin in Jasper, waiting for… Well. I can call him.”

  Ty scooted closer, his heat enveloping Bree. At the moment, she’d take the comfort. She felt beyond shaken at everything that was going on.

  “Our dad’s a water elemental,” he said softly.

  Remembering why she’d come over, Bree glared at Ty. “What exactly is going on here, and how did my pyrotechnics get out of control?”

  Chapter Nine

  Ty blinked.

  Calla took Bree’s arm, leading her to the stage. “Right now, let’s get this fire scene taken care of. Then we can talk.”

  Though she wanted to protest, she’d rather not have the blame for this hanging over her head any longer. She followed Calla to the Fire Chief, Scott and Ty close behind. Another older man drifted over, but didn’t speak.

  “Where’s the singer?” the chief asked grumpily.

  Bree glanced around. Donovan was nowhere to be found.

  “I can go get him,” she said.

  “Please don’t,” the chief answered, rubbing his temple. “Go, Mrs. O’Neil.”

  Calla whipped out her notebook and a sheaf of papers. “Arson,” she stated in a hard voice. “Luckily the burns are mostly superficial. None of the structure has been damaged.”

  “Is it safe for this band to continue their performances the next few nights?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You’re certain it’s arson?”

  “I have the inspection sheets done by Ty Dragos, as well as the plans from Briana Jones. Everything is on the up and up. Near the back, I found an accelerant used to draw the fire to the singers. The pyrotechnics were not at fault.”

  The fire chief nodded, smoothing his graying handle-bar mustache. “You certain this has nothing to do with Dragos Pyrotechnics?”

  Calla drew herself up, glaring at the man. “Are you questioning my integrity?”

  “No. But I got to ask.”

  “No, sir. It does not.”

  “All right then. File your report.”

  As soon as the place started clearing out, Bree dragged Ty to the back room. When she entered, the scent of sex hit hard.

  The fire onstage had nothing on the heat spreading through her body. She faced Ty, the sight of him further inflaming her senses. She bit her tongue to bring herself back to reality, ignoring the desire heating her blood.

  Sex wasn’t going to happen again. Only talk. Information. “Tell me what’s going on,” she practically growled.

  Ty leaned against the wall, crossing his ankles and folding his arms over his chest. “You sure you want to know?”

  “Damn right I
do.”

  “Then come to dinner with me.” His eyes flashed with mischievous amusement.

  “Are you bribing me, or trying to blackmail me?”

  “Take your pick. Coming?”

  Something inside her stopped the word “no” from escaping. Even more aggravated, with him—and herself—she spun on her heel and went to her tool chest. Yanked the bottom drawer open, she grabbed her purse, before stomping back to Ty. “If you insist.”

  He opened the door, waving her to go through first. As Bree headed down the hall to the back exit, she felt his gaze on her.

  As well as another. The same creepy sensation from before the fire.

  * * *

  An hour and a few shots of brandy later, Bree poked at her linguini. Across from her, Ty wolfed down his steak. The sight of the bloody mess turned her stomach.

  “You okay?” Ty asked between bites.

  “Just dandy,” she replied.

  The waitress drifted by and Bree ordered another drink.

  As soon as Ty cleaned his plate, Bree pounced.

  “We’ve had dinner—”

  “One of us,” he commented.

  Waving his words away, she continued, “Now, tell me what’s going on.”

  Ty sat back in his chair, as if settling in. His bright blue gaze assessed her before he sighed and said, “How much do you know of magic?”

  “Enough to get by.”

  “What about mages?”

  “Not a damn thing.”

  “Mages once were guardians of power—protectors of magic in the world.”

  “Okay.”

  “Eons ago, some became corrupt and began steeling magic from other creatures.”

  Bree called for another shot of brandy, wishing she could feel just a little bit tipsy rather than her metabolism killing the effects of alcohol before it could do a damn thing.

  “One such evil mage has been playing dark games with my family, and those around us. The Magic Council assigned bounty hunters to track him down and bring him in before he can do more damage. He likes to kidnap magical beings and enslave them. Steal their power, their souls.”

  “So what does that have to do with me?” she asked, playing with her fork.

 

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