Storm Clouds: Dragon's Fate, Book 3

by Lacy Danes

  Fina paced from the fireplace to the table. “If we had not gone out for air, we would have been trapped inside. Madoc will be fine.”

  Astrid wished she would stop saying that, but the same wish filled her, that all of them would come home well.

  Celeste finished bandaging the cut on Astrid’s arm. “What actually happened?”

  “You left, and Marcus suggested we try to help with the heat in the space by creating a breeze. I-I thought nothing of it. I wanted to try to help.” Her throat dried, and she swallowed hard. Tears threatened, but she would not let them fall. “He gripped my elbows and took control of the elements. We created a breeze, but below Hudson carried a torch, and the breeze blew embers onto people in the seats. And then… Then my lightning came forth and jumped up through to the ceiling. All those people…” She gulped for air that her lungs would not take. She coughed and spit up more black and red.

  “It was a blessing that this happened at the intermission. Others had decided to go out for air as we had, but there were still people inside. We won’t know how many did not make their way out.”

  The library room door burst open, and Madoc staggered into the room, carrying someone. The clothes of the person cradled in Madoc’s arms were charred, and blood shown from gashes on their body. Madoc dropped to his knees. They all rushed to his side. The person in his hands was a barely recognizable…Ilmir.

  Astrid’s throat closed off on a sob. He was burned over his entire body. “What happened to him?”

  Jordan entered next, carrying another. He gently placed Hudson on the floor. Madoc cleared his throat. “Ilmir is alive, but he was in air form when the fire rushed through the theater. Fire needs air. Fire eats air.”

  “He needs blood,” Astrid stated to no one and everyone.

  “What do you mean?” Grandmum walked over and stood above them.

  “He told me that when he has human blood, he can heal himself.”

  “As do I. One of you will need to go to Madam Olga’s and bring a sacrifice back.”

  Hudson opened his mouth and whispered, “It should be me.”

  Celeste pulled the bell. A moment later, the butler arrived.

  “We need help moving Ilmir and Hudson to the parlor settee.” She looked to the other Zir brothers. “Will one of you go get him what he needs?”

  Grandmum stood up. “I shall go. I too feed on blood. I know what they need.”

  Madoc stepped forward. “I will go with you.”

  Chapter Six

  Astrid stood over Ilmir, his beautiful pale complexion now a crisp black and red. His white hair that used to hang down into his eyes was burnt in uneven lengths. Nothing about him shimmered or glowed.

  His words came back to her. “I am not going to make excuses or tell lies to make you or anyone feel better. I am what I am. Not you, me or all the lies in the world will change that. All of us are killers. You will soon see that, as you too are part of this world now.”

  She was a killer too. He was right. She rubbed her forehead with her fingers and sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. All those people’s lives. Her power had helped to start that fire. Her chest ached, and her throat burned raw. When would they return?

  Ilmir’s breath staggered, and he exhaled sharply. No. No. He could not die. He was one of the last of his kind. He was her family. He’d taught her. She could teach him that family was the most important thing too.

  She gripped his hand. No matter her new ability, she was Astrid. The girl who loved this family more than anything in the world. She would do the proper thing here. The only thing.

  She grasped the bandage that Celeste had so lovingly wrapped about her arm. She leaned in and pressed her lips to his.

  The rough dry ash clung to her skin.

  So different from their first kiss, but it might be their last.

  She pulled back and wet her lips with her tongue. Charred burnt flesh met her taste buds.

  Ilmir.

  A dying Ilmir. Tears stung her eyes, and her tongue grew thick and dry in her mouth.

  She gently lifted his shoulders and sat behind him on the settee. His head and shoulders rested in her lap. He had brought her to this home. She owed him, and there was a chance…

  A small one…

  But still, a chance he would survive. He had said he loved her. Maybe that meant more than she gave score for.

  His mouth was level with the cut on her arm. She reached forward. Her wound had stopped bleeding, but she could reopen the reminder of her folly. She forced her lungs to breathe. This would hurt more than the tear had originally. With the fingers of her other hand, she tore into her flesh. Pain ripped through her arm, and her head grew light. She forced her eyes to stay open, but darkness haloed the edges of her sight. She pressed the open cut to his lips.

  He did not move to drink. She rubbed her arm back and forth, smearing sticky warm red across his cheeks, chin and lips.

  A sigh escaped his lips. “More” was spoken on his breath.

  She pressed her arm to him again. He bit down.

  Sharp knives dug deep into her flesh. She clamped her teeth together to hold in a scream. She did not want anyone to come in. This was between them. For all the family. She would save him.

  His tongue flicked weakly against her skin, and then he sucked. A pulling sensation jabbed up her arm. Her breath puffed out in shallow bursts, her body trembled, and sweat pricked her skin. Euphoria rushed through her. Her vision flashed and darkened. She sighed and relaxed, her blood flowing freely into him.

  He moaned and grunted.

  She lay limp behind him, her arm his feast. A growl came from deep in his chest, and his jaw jittered against her torn raw flesh. Burning pressure built in her forearm and then released; her arm burned with heat and ice. The sensation rushed up her shoulder, her neck and to her head. Her scalp tingled. She wrapped her other arm around his torso. If she died, she wanted him to know she cared. She had done this without asking him.

  Her vision blurred, and pain ripped her from her skull down to her toes. She jerked and then faded into the blackness.

  She was above her body, which was pinned behind Ilmir. How or why she did not know, but she was not dead. Or was she? She pushed her arms and fluttered higher. She flew to the window and out into the night sky.

  In dim light and clouds, she stared down on the city. She could not be dead. She was alive. Chills raced across her skin, and she laughed. Exhilarating. She ended up in the night sky, but her body was warm beneath Ilmir. Her body slept. She looked up. The beautiful stars, fog, and crisp air. This was what Ilmir experienced when he flew.

  There was a clatter on the drive below.

  Madoc and Grandmum returned.

  Madoc exited the coach first.

  A middle-aged man dressed in a long white nightdress exited next.

  Grandmum followed with a smile on her face like none Astrid had ever seen. She tipped her face up to the sky. Her eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open. A wink came next, and then she smiled. Grandmum walked up the steps and into the house.

  Grandmum saw her. Astrid’s heart lightened in her chest, and she concentrated all her energy on floating down and back into the house. She needed to be there when they questioned Ilmir. And there would be questions.

  The fog thickened about her and grabbed at her with bony iced hands. A chill made her heart heavy in her chest, and her lungs locked. She pushed away in a swimming motion, but the fingers dug deep and pulled her with a jerk into the fog. The same black skeleton she had heard speak in the theater smothered her in his arms.

  “I will not let go, air. I know where to put you,” he whispered in a satisfied tone in her ear.

  She struggled against him to no avail.

  “Help me.” A weak woman’s voice rang in her ears.

  Astrid squeezed her eyes shut.

&
nbsp; “Help me.”

  “You will rot in hell with Carmen, just like all the dragons should.” He arched his body, her ghost self still anchored to him. “Mørke guder af min ungdom tager dette der er til hvor ingen levende ting går. Trælbind hende til mig og min. Trælbinde hende i mørkehelvedet der bemyndigede alt kvinder hører til. Tag hende til lavahulerne.”

  She tried to translate his words, but she did not understand their meaning. “Dark gods of my youth, take this being to where no living thing goes. Enslave her to me and mine. Enslave her in the dark hell that all empowered women belong. Take her to the lava caves.”

  He spun and spun in a roll like a barrel that pitched down a hill. Her head grew light, and her stomach heaved. If she was going to expel her dinner, she damn well would make sure the cast-up landed on him. Her stomach heaved once more, and she turned her head to expel on him, but missed.

  He laughed, a sinister deep cackle. “Be gone with her.” Her body lightened, and the black surrounded her. She tossed her hands out as she hit hot dry earth. She struggled up to sitting. “Where am I?”

  A slithering sound came from over her left shoulder.

  She shied away, and pinpricks tapped up her neck. If only she could see in the dark.

  Sniff. Sniff. Sniff. Came from her right. “Blood.”

  Astrid covered the wound on her arm. “Who is there?”

  “Who are you?” The weak voice bounced around her.

  “Astrid.”

  “No. That cannot be.” The voice came closer.

  “You did not answer me.” She wanted to back up, but she had no idea where she was.

  “I am Carmen. The one who created what you call Zir and whom Havanis hunts. If you are here…” She growled. “That cannot happen.”

  “I don’t know if I am here. I floated up, but my body still remains behind with Ilmir, on the settee.”

  “Your soul is here, and so Havanis has you.”

  “Am I dead?”

  “No, but until you leave here, you will remain asleep in their world.” Shuffling came from the direction of Carmen’s voice. A hand touched her shoulder. “I am dying. I need blood.” Cold breath puffed against her face. “Nothing has come here for months now.” Her body pressed to Astrid’s. Nothing but bones jabbed at her. “If you let me drink from you, I can contact the others and let them know you are here.”

  “Who is Havanis?”

  Carmen slid down to her knees on the floor. “Long ago, he was my lover. I betrayed him to protect the dragons. The Zir are here because of that. Because of us…” A light thud came from beside her as Carmen’s arms gave out and she lay on the floor. “I need blood.”

  “All my blood is on the settee with Ilmir.”

  Chapter Seven

  Pain throbbed in his temples. Ilmir rubbed his forehead with numb fingers. He forced his eyes open. Jordan stood over him. “You live.”

  He wet his lips with his tongue and sputtered, unable to speak.

  “There was a lot of damage to your skin and lungs. You may not be able to speak for a bit.”

  “I need to know what happened.” Celeste appeared, marring the view of his bedroom ceiling. Bloody hell. The Zir women were in his room.

  “Leave me be,” he rasped. His throat burned like fire, and he coughed and coughed again. Rolling onto his side, he spit blood onto his sheets. The acrid charred taste of burned flesh filled his mouth. He wanted Astrid and no one else. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Astrid.” His throat closed, and he forced the word out.

  “That is what I need to know about.” Celeste grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back toward her. “She will not wake, and two days have passed. What happened?”

  What happened? He’d followed them all to the theater. The theater caught fire from her powers and Marcus. He certainly could not say all that. It hurt to simply breathe. “Marcus,” he forced out, and stifled another cough.

  “We all know about Marcus. No one has seen him since the theater. Astrid was fine when I left for Madam Olga’s. What happened while we were gone?”

  Madam Olga’s. He had no memory of that. He pushed up to sitting and silently gestured for a quill and parchment.

  Celeste disappeared and then returned with both, as well as a lap desk.

  He grabbed the quill and scrawled on the paper.

  What in bloody hell is going on?

  “That is what we hoped you could tell us.” Madoc sat on the edge of Ilmir’s bed. He raised his hand and pointed toward the settee in his room. “We moved you both to your chambers a day past.”

  He lifted his gaze to the settee. A pale Astrid lay on the plush pillows but didn’t move. Her chest rose and fell in sleep. He scrawled on the paper again.

  She is asleep?

  “Indeed, but she has been for two nightfalls.” Celeste went to Astrid’s side and touched her forehead. “No fever. No chill. She simply sleeps. Grandmum swears she saw her hovering above the house when she returned with Madoc.”

  He set the lap desk to the side and slid his legs over the edge of the bed. He stood on solid footing and walked to her. He sat next to her. With a gentle touch, he traced the veins on the back of her hand. Possession welled up inside him, and his heart ached. She was his. He was hers. His jaw clenched. He shook his head, trying to remember anything that had happened.

  He traced each one of her fingers, separating them as he had in the carriage. She did not move. There was no sharp intake of breath like before. He leaned in and put his lips on hers, willing her to respond in any way.

  She was not here. Not in her body. Where was she?

  He got up and paced. Reaching up, he raked his hand through his hair. Short stubble met his touch. His fisted his hands and spun back to Madoc and Celeste. His hair was gone! Gone!

  “It burned off. We had to—”

  He held up his hand. His hair would grow back. Astrid was all that mattered. “She is not here. Her body is, but she is not.” He choked and then coughed from the strain.

  “We could try to do a spell to locate her, but we are not Ferrous.” Madoc walked over to Astrid and stared down at her. “Hudson has not awakened either, though his skin is healing, so I feel he will recover. Grandmum is taking watch over him tonight.”

  “Hudson is here?” He was part of the tragedy that unfolded. His darkness had overtaken him. Ilmir sat back on the edge of his bed.

  “Indeed. He was the first we found. You took time to locate in the flames.”

  “We shall do a location spell.” Fina entered the room with one of Ferrous’s large spell books. “Ferrous used this one to find each of you Zir. If we change a word and use Astrid’s hair, we should locate her.”

  “Will that work with finding her essence?” Celeste walked to Fina. “Or will we simply see her asleep on the settee?”

  Ilmir stood again and walked to Astrid. He grasped three strands of her hair and yanked them out. “Do this. Find her.” He handed the strands to Fina.

  “Bring your water basin, and, Celeste, make haste to the library and bring the box of oils and herbs.”

  Celeste returned with the box. She sat the box, which contained their only hope, on his dressing table, and Ilmir placed the basin in the center of it.

  “This should work, as we need the mirror for this casting.” Fina set the three strands in the center of the bowl. “I will need all of you. We will form a half circle in front of the mirror and say the spell with Astrid’s name here.” She pointed to the word drang. “And vejr heks here.” She pointed to the word bloddrukkenbolt.

  Ferrous had located each of the Zir using this spell, a spell that called them dragons and blood drinkers. Astrid was a weather witch, and so they would search for her that way.

  They all stood around the mirror and table. Fina searched through the box of oils and herbs and removed black oil from t
he earth, dried Rosaceae flower, white sand and the shimmering oil Ferrous always used in his spells. Ilmir had no idea what Ferrous put in that oil, but his spells always worked.

  Fina poured the black oil into the basin first, then crushed the dried Rosaceae flower and added the white sand. With her hands, she mixed them all together, then drizzled the shimmering oil in. She placed her hand into the oil. “Each of us must do this next part.” She removed her hand, shimmering with the mixture, and placed it on the mirror. “Now each of you, one by one.” She removed her hand, and a print of oil and texture stayed on the mirror.

  Ilmir went next, then Jordan, Madoc and Celeste. Once all their prints were on the mirror, Fina grabbed Ilmir’s hand, “Join hands and cast the spell.”

  Each of them interlocked their fingers.

  “Lokaliser dette manglende væsen og show til os i dette reflektioner hvor de være. Dette væsen er Astrid og en heks af vejret. Hendes krop er her være hun er ikke. Vis os hvor hun være.”

  The oil handprints on the mirror turned toward each other and interlocked fingers, creating a circle. Nothing more happened.

  “Again.” Fina gripped Ilmir’s fingers harder.

  “Lokaliser dette manglende væsen og show til os i dette reflektioner hvor de være. Dette væsen er Astrid og en heks af vejret. Hendes krop er her være hun er ikke. Vis os hvor hun være.”

  The hands on the mirror shimmered, and blue sky shone in the middle. Nothing.

  “Something is wrong.” Ilmir clenched his jaw. His ears tingled. He wanted to float into the blue sky of the mirror. The sensation of Astrid slipping behind him on the settee in the parlor slammed into his conscience. He jerked as she pressed her torn-open arm to his mouth. He bit her. His blood. Her blood.

  The others started the spell over. The spell was wrong. It said, “Locate this missing being and show to us in this reflections where they be. This being is Astrid and a weather witch. Her body is here, but she is not. Show us where she be.”

  She was more than a weather witch now. She was Zir.

  Ilmir hastily said the spell but added af drage to the end.