by Gena D. Lutz
As he rounded the ridge where they would begin their ascent, the demon princess cleared her throat behind him. Irritated, he stopped and turned to look at her. She was gazing upward with a hand shading her eyes from the realm-glare, a light given off by a rotating ball of white magic that hovered over the dragon lands. The sphere radiated a light that was just as brilliant as the Earth’s sun, without all the bothersome heat.
“Why are we wasting our time by hiking this mountain? Can’t you just pop those huge wings of yours out and fly us up there?” she asked.
He glanced at his home, perched several miles high in the sky. A towering majesty he’d do anything to honor and protect. “Normally, I’d simply fly us to the top, but the mages we encountered at the lower-level border syphoned off a lot of my magic. Hell, my dragon was barely able to get us this far. It will take some time before my energy is fully restored enough to shift again.”
It wasn’t until he shifted back into his human form that he’d realized just how much magic the mages had stolen from him. Which was proven by just how little he could muster to fashion a thin pair of cotton pants to cover his manhood. Mages were like the pirates of demon-hell, stealing as much energy, power, and treasure that they could get their grubby hands on from each and every species that resided within the five levels.
The one exception: the demon royals. Which was why he found it odd that they’d dare try to ambush him while in the company of the princess.
Brecon looked past Sonnet’s royal connection and really gave her a good once over. To his astonishment, the demon princess looked saddened and somewhat concerned over the news that he’d been magic-jacked.
“Oh, I see. Well then, we can just hike it. I was merely trying to save us time,” Sonnet replied to his earlier statement.
One of her dark brows rose in thought at the same time a subtle breeze swayed stray hairs across her softening features. And for a moment, he could have sworn he caught sight of goodness within her eyes.
She shrugged. “Or we can rest for a bit. Let your body rejuvenate some of its magic. Really, it’s up to you.”
Brecon shook his head. “Thank you for your kindness. But rest is not necessary. The climb looks harder than it is.” He jumped ten feet, landing on a protruding edge. He looked down at her with an amused grin. “Are you coming?”
She lifted a brow. “Show off!”
It took a running start and then two leaps that spanned five feet each for Sonnet to reach him on the ledge. They stood side by side, Brecon somehow feeling more comfortable in the princess’s presence.
“Can you keep that stamina up all the way to the top?”
She turned her gaze to him. “You bet your ass I can.”
Chapter Eight
Sonnet stared up at the half circle of pillars that wrapped around the space before the castle entrance, a security measure, she assumed, to ensure that any large beasts couldn’t land in the courtyard without first shifting into a smaller form.
She blinked and took it all in, keeping herself a little ways behind Brecon. She preferred he enter his domain first, seeing as this was his sanctuary and she had no clue what surprises lay behind those large golden doors. But one thing was for certain, raw and powerful magic resonated within those walls, and also in the mountain that so obviously sustained the structure as if it were a living entity.
She gulped audibly. This much power made her nervous.
Brecon had told her his entire family could be found inside, the Blackstone clan, the eldest and strongest dragons within the third realm. He assured her that she would be safe, and that she'd have unimpeded access to the nursery—the chamber from which the eggs had been stolen. Once she stood in the spot where the kidnapping had occurred, she’d be able to pick up a magical charge or signal that, if strong enough, would lead her straight to the perpetrators.
This place is ginormous, Sonnet thought in awe once they’d entered, seeing at least a dozen people traipse around the castle as they went about their daily business. The group couldn’t be more diverse—in size, color, age and gender. Some of them were deep in conversation, others strolled in and out of doorways. Magic vibrated through the air, pouring off each individual in pulsing waves, hinting at their true nature: dragon. If they all belonged to the same clan, she didn’t know.
They moved farther into the castle that was at least several thousand feet wide and twenty stories tall.
“Brother!”
Brecon’s eyes turned to a tall, cinnamon-skinned woman rushing at them. She was beautiful, stunningly so, with evidence of fatigue puffing out the lower lids of her eyes, as if she'd been crying for days on end.
“Brecon,” The woman said, with a hint of hope in her voice. “I didn’t expect to see you back this soon. Do you have any news?”
Brecon shook his head and frowned, a sense of sorrow swarming through his dark eyes. “Still nothing.”
She stiffened.
Brecon continued. “I have brought a hunter to help us. She is rumored to have the ability to find any supernatural creature in existence.”
The woman’s gaze skipped to Sonnet. “Is that so? What’s your name, hunter?”
Apprehension turned Sonnet’s insides to ice. There was something ancient and wise in the woman’s voice, and it made Sonnet nervous.
“My name is Sonnet.”
To her ears, her voice had sounded cool, calm, and collected, but by the way Brecon’s eyebrow jumped, the words had probably came out as shaky as she felt.
The woman’s gaze plunged deep, as if it were picking apart Sonnet’s very soul with its contact. “You believe you can find my children?”
Understanding dawned. The dragon maiden was coming off as a threat because her instincts were at war, urging her to find and protect her young. No one would be safe until her babies were returned to her.
Sonnet felt a surge of shame spear through her. She had been so concerned about herself—her job, her unforeseen descent into demon-hell and sudden family reunion, and her need to escape—that she hadn’t let what was really important sink in. Children were missing.
Her own personal junk still hung over her head like a throbbing rain cloud, but none of that was as important as the dragonlings…especially not her own agenda. She hadn’t been staying true to the code she lived by.
There was a silence between them, and then Sonnet said, “Yes, I will find your children, and any other eggs that have been stolen. This I vow to you.” She found herself bowing her head.
The woman turned to Brecon and smiled. “I believe her, Brecon, I really do. Do you trust her?”
Brecon nodded. “Of course I do, sweet Sister,” he said, “I wouldn’t have brought her here otherwise.”
Brecon’s sister fell into his arms and he held her close, stroking her long black hair.
Sonnet watched the dragons with a renewed sense of purpose. And even though she couldn’t just twitch her nose and make the dragon eggs appear before her, she would find them. The kidnapper’s lingering scent was the only way to make it happen, so she needed to be taken to the scene of the crime.
“Can you show me to the nursery?” Sonnet asked.
The dragon maiden stepped out of Brecon’s comforting arms. She then pulled a worn handkerchief from the pocket of her lightweight cotton pants and started dabbing at her eyes. “Come. I’ll show you the way.”
They made their way up a few flights of stairs and stopped in front of two glass doors. The glass was thick, etched with markings that resembled the ones Sonnet had seen used in Remy’s demon summoning. Bane had called those markings runes, and she also knew that each marking had its own origin and meaning.
An amber glow illuminated the large space behind the double doors, the area within large enough to fit about two dozen people. When they opened, Sonnet followed Brecon and his sister inside. As the doors whooshed shut, she looked down—and her insides crumpled.
The floor was see through, the view a never-ending abyss of rock wall an
d darkness.
Sonnet closed her eyes and leaned her head against the back wall, stealing a second to calm her nerves.
“Don’t panic,” Brecon said.
Her eyes flew open. “Huh?”
In the next moment, her body levitated and then shot upward, the force ripping the breath from her lungs. Before she could panic, she found herself standing on another glass floor, but somehow on a different level of the castle. She knew it was another level because of the color of the rocks and the addition of young children running around in the hall on the other side of the strange glass elevator.
She dragged a hand over her face as the doors opened and they exited, Sonnet eagerly so. Shaking the fear from her bones, she took a look around. This area was spacious, and obviously the top floor. Left wide open, it echoed a birdcage, with stone and wooden ledges, and scalloped windows that wrapped around the entire circumference, top to bottom, creating a dome. Sonnet glanced up and smiled at the young dragons soaring around the uppermost point. They ranged in age and color, some of them teetering on the wide ledges watching other dragons as they played and somersaulted through the air.
Movement drew her gaze to the left. Brecon was walking behind his sister, moving swiftly toward the farthest end of the nursery. Sonnet quickly caught up and fell into step beside him. No one said a word as they turned a corner that was hidden by a tall statue shaped like extended dragon wings.
“Marybeth Rayne, you get your butt back here this instant!”
A head full of blonde ringlets rushed by, giggling with excitement. From behind the toddler, a young woman, with narrowed eyes and a bath towel clenched in one hand, chased after her. Her words held little heat, and she was almost smiling, obviously trying not to laugh.
The little girl stopped running and twirled around. “I wanna fly, I wanna fly, nana Lynn!” she said, pointing a chubby finger at all the other dragons in flight.
The woman, Lynn, blew out a breath and tossed the towel over her shoulder. “Alright, Marybeth, just for a little while, then you’re taking a bath—no excuses.”
Marybeth clapped her hands and let out a squeal. She then closed her eyes tight and her dirty-blonde brows collapsed together as she concentrated on shifting.
Sonnet’s heart pounded while she watched the little girl, who was all of four years old, begin to change.
Marybeth’s eyes slowly opened, the hazel-colored rounds rapidly changing into tall slits of the same hue. Her skin became awash with scales of dark amber and her frame instantly shifted to dragon.
Where Brecon was the size of a Mack truck in his creature form, the younger dragon was as large as a VW bug.
Lynn moved around them to stand next to Marybeth. She placed a hand underneath her jutted chin. “Twenty minutes, child, then come find me.”
Marybeth’s large oval nostrils, dotted with horn-like ridges, flared and she nodded. She then maneuvered around and took a running leap into the air.
Lynn shook her head. “That girl hates baths. She’ll do anything to avoid taking one.” Her eyes moved from the flying dragon to Brecon. “What brings you to my nursery, Dark Dragon?”
“I need to take a look around the hatchery.”
Lynn’s brow rose. “I see. I’ve upped that chamber’s wards, using stone magic. If you and your group are of no threat to the dragonlings, you should have no problem accessing the space.” She shrugged and gave Sonnet a quick look. “But if you are? Let’s just say, I won’t be seeing any of you again…in one piece, anyways.”
He nodded once. “Alright, thanks for the warning.”
They continued on, turning a sharp corner that was on the other side of the winged statue. After traveling down a long and wide hallway, and then making two more turns, the group approached a gilded archway.
Brecon didn’t stop at the threshold; he walked straight into the room, wards be damned. His sister quickly followed.
But Sonnet’s footsteps faltered at the edge. Or more accurately, the sudden influx of power she felt tripped her up. She held her hand out and felt a shiver of curious magic work its way over her skin. It felt prickly and cold.
“Are you coming?” Brecon’s voice carried over.
Sonnet moved forward, through the intricate net of magic, making it into the hatchery in one piece.
“Yeah, the ward took me off guard,” she called back, her body still feeling the pressure of the nursemaid’s ward. The magic was impressive, some of the strongest she’d ever felt before. Too bad it wasn’t in place the night the eggs had been stolen.
Sonnet walked across the nursery, stopping a foot away from one the dragons’ nests. It was an empty silk-laden pallet, and the only thing that looked ominous about it was the crumpled blankets piled in the middle of the round bed.
She crouched, closed her eyes, and released her power silently and efficiently, let it expand to reverberate throughout the room, picking apart thousands of paranormal strands as if she were knitting in reverse on a loom. But instead of weaving a silk scarf, she was unraveling a magically infused one.
She threw herself into the task with gusto. Palms tingling, she clenched them into fists until her blunt nails bit into flesh. Sweat formed, beading at her brows. And then she saw it—threads, ones unlike any of the others, intertwined within the network of energy that filled the space.
Sonnet took a deep, almost shuddery breath. “Have you allowed another species other than dragon to enter the nursery within the last six months?”
She put a limit on the inquiry because that was the time frame—give or take a month—in which she could generally pick up a lead strong enough to hunt with.
Layna shook her head. “No.”
Brecon stood next to a rocking chair and gave Sonnet an expectant look. “Did you pick something up?” His fingers clenched around the top of the chair. “Was it a Stratos demon who took them?” He asked the last part as if it were already true.
Sonnet held up a finger in a “hold on” gesture. “There’s a lot of magic here…it’s taking a bit longer to shuffle through it.”
Nodding over tense shoulders, he continued to watch her. “Okay.”
Sonnet returned her focus to the gossamer strands, taking time to pick apart each one by intensity and color. She knew the strands that glistened rainbow belonged to the Blackstone clan; she’d picked up their paranormal calling card just by being around Brecon and his family. And because of the presence of so many colors, it was increasingly hard to decipher one strand from the next.
But then she saw it—amber hues snaking their way through the network like a virus. Once she caught hold of it, the rest of the colors faded, leaving the tawny strands to stand out in stark relief.
She smiled and rose to her feet, her hunter instincts locked and loaded for werewolf. Gotcha…
“A werewolf kidnapped your young,” Sonnet said. “And by dumb luck, I happen to know exactly which one.”
Brecon’s eyes widened, overcome with shock.
“Shadow Claw, the werewolf pack, had something to do with this?” the female dragon, hissed. “They have broken a peace treaty we’ve had in place for centuries!”
“No wolf would risk that,” Brecon mumbled. “They know it would be suicide.”
The stubborn dragon was still stuck on the theory that a Stratos demon was to blame for the kidnappings. Boy, had he been wrong.
Sonnet’s gaze was dead serious as she made eye contact with Brecon. “Pact or no pact, a werewolf is to blame for this—and we met the perp at my father’s table last night.”
Layna’s brows drew together. “Perp?”
Sonnet explained. “Perp is short for perpetrator.”
She nodded. “I see.”
“Dorian…?” Brecon spat the name like acid.
Sonnet’s smile was cunning as she said, “Ding, ding, ding. You get the door prize.”
This time, both of them looked at her with confusion.
“I mean, yes, you’re right, Dorian stole your eggs. And
if you fly me on over to his realm, I’ll be happy to track his sorry ass down for you.”
Chapter Nine
The tether connecting Sonnet to her prey had led her here, to a compound that Brecon called The Conclave.
Sonnet pressed her hands against cool grass and leaned forward, as if she were a soldier on a scouting mission.
She’d never hunted this way before. She preferred to run headlong into trouble with guns blazing. But this was different; she wasn’t going up against a vampire or two, she was on enemy territory, full of ruthless and coldblooded carnivores. And the fact of the matter was, with a vampire, you only risked bodily injury and major blood loss. A werewolf, on the other hand, could gobble you up whole.
So this was an even more dangerous hunt than what she was used to. But this was where her instincts had lead them. She focused on the imprint that stretched out before her, the glowing line superimposing over land, toward the concrete compound looming in the distance. There, the snail-trail stopped moving forward, arching downward, within what she could only imagine were caves underneath the structure.
“At least we’re not invading the wildlands during a full moon, when the werewolves are at their strongest.” Brecon shrugged from his prone position beside her. “Either way, we’re facing the fight of our lives.”
Sonnet inched forward on her stomach, shaking her head slowly as she said, “Your pre-battle pep talks really suck.”
Movement drew her gaze back to the single-story building. There, she watched as a man appeared at the front door. He stood on guard, scanning his surroundings, the muscles at his neck straining as he lifted his nose and sniffed the air. After a few moments of that, he fell to all fours, his body changing until nothing that resembled human remained.
The massive wolf was all gray fur and fangs as his amber eyes moved to lock onto their position.
Sonnet’s heartbeat picked up to race in her chest. “Oh shit…he knows we’re here.”
Brecon gave her pant leg a tug, signaling for her to move backward. “Yeah, it was only a matter of time before we were detected. They’ll be coming for us soon.”