Fire Born (City of Dragons Book 5)

by Val St. Crowe

  Besides, I hadn’t done a perfect job. Some stuff had fallen out of one of the boxes, including a book that my great-grandmother had given me. I’d read some stuff in it about the blood bond a while back, but I hadn’t looked at it again.

  The book was really ancient, and I still didn’t know why my great-grandmother had given me the thing. She’d handed it over after my parents died, saying that the book might provide some answers for me. I’d been through it a few times, and I hadn’t found anything that connected to my parents.

  I started to get up, and then I lay back. I used magic to pick up the book and floated it over to me.

  That made me exhausted.

  I flopped down on the bed, curling up around my belly on my side. I shut my eyes. Maybe I’d nap a little bit…

  When I opened my eyes, the light seemed different. I guessed I’d gone to sleep. I checked the time. Yup. That was later than I had expected. I looked around at the room. There was still a ton I wanted to do in here, but I didn’t have the energy to tackle it now. Instead, I picked up the book and took it out into the living room to riffle through it.

  I wanted to see if I could find anything out about the blood bond. I knew most of the stories in this book ended with the couples who were bonded getting burned to death or their heads cut off, but I seemed to remember that there was one… I paged through the table of contents. Yeah. There it was. Arabella of Worwith and Louis the vampire. They didn’t die, because they won. They killed Arabella’s former mate, and the two of them ruled a small area in the south of France for over two hundred years.

  The book’s writer was not pleased with this outcome, seeing as blood bonds were evil and all, and I guessed that now I did see his point. If Lachlan and I had gone hog wild with our blood bond, we’d have been the worst rulers ever. We were already treating people as if they were disposable, like paper towels or something. Use one, throw them away when they’re soiled.

  I felt uncomfortable, almost as if it was itching under my skin. I always felt like this when I thought about the blood bond. I didn’t understand how it had taken over us like that, how it had buried our humanity in lust for power.

  Anyway, the fact they won wasn’t the part that I was interested in. I remembered that there was a reproduced letter in that story, which had been written by Arabella herself, or so the book claimed.

  When I had first flipped through this book, I had dismissed the idea that the letter was really written by Arabella, because it was negative about the blood bond, and I figured it was manufactured propaganda. But now I wasn’t so sure, and I wanted to reread it and see what it was she had to say.

  I found the letter. It was dated sometime in the late 1800s, and it was addressed to Arabella’s sister.

  My dearest Emma, it read. I know it has been quite some time since I have been in touch, and I really must apologize for that. You are no doubt blaming Louis for my behavior, since I began to change when I met him, and I am only back in touch with you now, after he is dead.

  Wait. What? Louis died?

  I flipped back to read. Huh. So apparently, the reign of Arabella and Louis ended when Louis was killed in a fatal accident that involved a flying shovel. It had been hurled by some frustrated farmer and happened to decapitate him. Talk about your bad luck.

  I went back to the letter. I skimmed a little, because Arabella was going on about her sister’s children. Honestly, the editor of this book should have cut some of this. Actually, I didn’t know if editors in the 1800s actually did cut things. I remembered struggling through some truly boring books in high school English class.

  Anyway, eventually, I got to an interesting part.

  The truth is that Louis and I were both overtaken by a force of evil that we could not fight. The evil grew within us and it became stronger and stronger every time we used it. That evil is what they call whiteflame. It is powerful, more powerful than anything on earth, and every time we called upon it, we lost more and more of ourselves. We grew terrible and strong. New abilities began to appear for us, and we could bend anyone to our will. We could commit whatever atrocities occurred to us, and we had no feelings of guilt or conscience. We were lost to it, as though we were sailors on some far shore, drawn to the mermaids in the depths of the sea.

  Hmm. Interesting that she blamed it squarely on whiteflame, not on blood sharing.

  I wondered about that. I knew that Lachlan had problems with knowing when to stop taking my blood before we were properly bonded. But the mage that I had gone to—Esther had been her name and she was horrible—had told me that the bonding happened when Lachlan and I had sex.

  Still… there had been no bad side effects of the bond back then. It had only been positive then. I remembered that we were connected, and that we were able to do magic together.

  When had we first used the whiteflame?

  Against Alastair, I remembered. He’d been so powerful, and he’d come to the hotel, and he’d fought us—

  But even then, our power hadn’t been that strong, because I was sure that if we’d met Alastair at the height of our blood bond, when we were both practically leaking power, we would have bent him like a pretzel without breaking a sweat.

  So what had made us get that powerful?

  Was it blood sharing? Sex? Because once the bond had its hooks in us, we’d been jumping each other on a regular basis.

  But it seemed to me like the crazy sex had been a symptom, not a cause. No, I was fairly sure what had changed was the whiteflame. We’d started using it regularly, against the rogue dragons. Before that, using whiteflame had been something we did rarely, only when a huge threat came our way. But it was every few days with the rogues. And that was when our power had gotten out of control.

  I wondered if Arabella was right. Maybe the whiteflame was the problem. Maybe Lachlan and I were killing ourselves to keep our hands off each other for no reason. Maybe it would be okay if he drank my blood. Maybe it was the whiteflame that was the key, not the blood sharing.

  I wished there was a way we could know for sure. We couldn’t try it out and see. There was too much at stake.

  Sighing, I turned back to the book. I read through the rest of the letter, but there wasn’t much interesting in it. It was more of the same.

  I flipped through some pages and looked down at that page.

  The Society of the Eagle and Lynx, it read.

  Eagle and Lynx? What was that?

  Wait. Eaglelinx? No way. It couldn’t be the same thing.

  I started to read the page.

  Be forewarned of taking gifts from the members of this society, for some of their magic has been shown to be a cause for tragical and terrifying effects. One man, so-named Edward Sully, put no more than a forefinger on a talisman created by this society, and he was instantaneously transformed into his dragonian form, there on the dry land, as it were. Thereafter, it was said that Edward Sully did not exist, and that only a monstrous dragon was in his place. This dragon did never change form back into his human self, nor did he make any attempts to communicate with his loved ones, but instead took every opportunity to burn and maim anything he saw, be it his dearest friend or his own mate.

  I sat up straight.

  Geez. This was the rogues! This was exactly like the rogues. And it was confirming my theory about dragons shifting on dry land.

  But damn. A talisman that forced a dragon to shift? That was the most horrible thing I could think of. What a weapon.

  Were the rogues that were running wild victims of such a talisman?

  I had to know.

  I got up off the couch and crossed the room to find my phone, which was still in my purse. Taking it out, I scrolled through my contacts until I found the number for Clarke Gannon.

  Clarke was a dragon slayer, but she only killed rogues. She wasn’t one of those slayers who would shoot any dragon for profit. Still, even though she wasn’t exactly a bad guy, it was hard to really like her. She killed dragons. I was a dragon.

>   It was awkward, that’s all.

  I put the phone to my ear and waited while it dialed.

  “Penny Caspian?” said Clarke’s voice. “I didn’t think I’d ever hear from you again.”

  “When was the last time you killed a rogue?”

  “Uh… maybe five days ago. What’s this about?”

  “Do you still have the body?”

  “No, I don’t. It’s not as if I have space in my apartment to store dragon corpses. Besides, they tend to smell if you don’t have a cooler for them.”

  I grimaced. “Thanks for that. That was something I definitely needed to know.”

  “There a reason for this line of questioning?”

  “The next time you kill a rogue, can you call me? Before you get rid of the body?”

  “Why?”

  “I want to try to identify the dragon.”

  “I told you, there’s no reason to do that. I’m not even convinced that these rogues are actually shifters. I think they might be a different species.”

  “Yeah, I know you have your theories, but I have mine too. And I… I need to know.” I couldn’t explain why, but somehow, it was important. For one thing, these rogues were supposed to be the army that my son was destined to lead against the mysterious court of the Green King. If they were victims of some talisman, how did that work into that idea? Maybe it meant that my son wasn’t destined to do that, that he was free of that dark future. “Will you call me or not?”

  “I’m telling you, it’s a waste of time.”

  “Please. Call me.”

  “Okay, okay,” said Clarke. “Fine. I’ll call you.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “Sure, whatever. You, uh, take care now.”

  “You too,” I said. “Oh, and Clarke?”

  “What?”

  “You told me once that you had an amulet that could detect how much magic was in someone.”

  “I did? Because I don’t think… Oh, you mean the ones slayers use to see how much magic is in a dragon. I don’t personally have one, but they do exist.”

  “Would it work to assess how much magic is in a living person?”

  “I guess so.”

  “You know how to get one?”

  “They’re probably made with the parts of dragons killed by slayers. You know that, right?”

  I bit down hard on my lip. “Yeah, okay…” I wanted to know whether or not Lachlan and I had more magic after he drank my blood. It wasn’t worth sacrificing a dragon for that. Of course, it was already dead and turned into an amulet. “Can you tell me how to get one or not?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “I can get you one. If you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure,” I said. “I’ll pay, of course. Do you need the money up front?”

  “That’s all right,” she said. “I know you’re good for it.”

  After I hung up with Clarke, I stared at my phone for a while, worried that I was making compromises to my morals because of wanting Lachlan to drink my blood. Maybe the blood bond still had control over me, even though we’d been trying to keep our distance.

  I thought of the other day, Lachlan’s mouth against mine, his body so close.

  Damn it.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “So,” said Lachlan, “you come here often?”

  Lachlan and I were in a bar on the south side of town, one that was in close proximity to all of the murders. We were following up on a promising tip.

  A man with dark hair, who was sitting in the corner with a beer, like the tip had told us he would be, eyed us both. “That a pickup line? Because I’m not available, even if I did do… couples.” His eyes settled on my stomach. “Or foursomes.”

  Lachlan chuckled. He sat down across the table from the man. “Not a line, but a genuine question.”

  I sat down too. “What’s your name?”

  “Eric,” said the man. “Eric Watson.”

  “So,” said Lachlan. “Do you come here often?”

  “I guess so,” said Eric.

  “Pretty much every night around this time?” said Lachlan.

  “Yeah, but what does that matter?” said Eric. “Who are you guys?”

  “I’m Detective Lachlan Flint. This is my associate Penny Caspian.” Lachlan nodded at me.

  “Detective? Like a police detective?”

  “Yup,” said Lachlan, taking out his badge to flash it.

  “What do the police want with me?”

  “We’re following up on an anonymous tip,” said Lachlan. “We had someone call up the station and say that you are here in this bar a lot. Maybe not every night, but a lot of the time. And that you’re always buying some guy drinks—different guys every time—and that you then disappear with those men.”

  “So?” said Eric, who was starting to look both panicked and angry at the same time.

  “So, this person thinks that we should look into you. Thinks you might be the serial killer we’re looking for.”

  “What?” said Eric.

  “Can you tell me where you were on the following dates?” Lachlan rattled them off.

  Eric looked frazzled. “I have no idea where I was. I might have been here. I might have been at another bar. But I didn’t kill anyone.”

  “You come here to troll for men to pick up, then?” said Lachlan. “Seems to me that you might have better luck in a gay bar.”

  “I’m not gay,” said Eric. “Not that there’s anything wrong with being gay. I’m not. And I don’t come here to pick up men. I’m here for my job.”

  “Your job?” I said. “You go out drinking for your job?”

  “Yes,” said Eric. “I’m a life coach. I specialize in helping shy men socialize and meet women.”

  “And that involves coming to bars and drinking?”

  “Well, it depends on the guy. Some guys are religious. They don’t want to drink. Those guys I might take to church picnics or something. But most guys, yeah, they need to learn to meet women where single people congregate, and that’s at bars.”

  “I guess that’s true,” I said.

  “We meet here,” said Eric. “My client and I will have a warm-up drink together. I’ll buy him a beer, we’ll talk a bit, loosen up. Then we’ll leave and go to another bar, where I’ll basically be my client’s wingman for the night as he tries to talk to women and learn how to strike up spontaneous conversations. That’s why I leave the bar with men.”

  “Huh,” said Lachlan. “You got proof of this life coaching thing?”

  “I have my website,” said Eric. “You can book a consultation online. Would that be proof?”

  “What’s the web address?” said Lachlan.

  Eric rattled it off. Lachlan wrote it down.

  * * *

  “Well, that was bogus,” said Lachlan as we left the bar. “Figured it would be. Most of these tips are dead ends.”

  “At least it wasn’t an offensive, stupid tip,” I said. “It seemed probable that he might be the killer.”

  “Yeah, that’s why I chose it,” said Lachlan. “Thought it was strong enough to deserve a follow-up. But I don’t think we need to waste any more time on Eric Watson.”

  “Nah, doesn’t seem like it,” I said. “Where are we headed now?”

  “Down a few blocks to a parking garage. We got a tip from an attendant that works there. Want to talk to him about it.”

  “Cool,” I said as we strode through the cold toward Lachlan’s car. I had to admit that things seemed to be moving more smoothly without Dirk around. It wasn’t that I didn’t like her or anything. I even felt a little bad for her, because it must be difficult dealing with being treated differently than Lachlan. Still, she and Lachlan argued like cats and dogs. I hated it.

  When we got to the car, I opened the door and flopped down on the seat, oomphing. It felt good to be off my feet.

  “You okay?” said Lachlan.

  “Great,” I said, but I was a little winded. All this walking was tough at my size. “Y
ou know what would suck?”

  “What?”

  “If it turns out to be that Eric guy after all. We crossed him off the list, didn’t look into him further, and if he played us—”

  “He didn’t,” said Lachlan.

  “How can you be so confident of that?”

  “I’m not. I’m really good at sounding confident.” He winked at me.

  * * *

  “Wow, I didn’t know if anything would really come of my tip,” said Dustin Reyes, who worked at the parking garage. He was sitting inside the small building at the gate where he would normally take tickets and money. He pushed open the door to come out and greet us. “I’d have you come in there, but it’s the size of a closet.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I said, shaking hands.

  Lachlan shook next. “Thanks for getting in touch.”

  “You think it means anything?” said Dustin.

  “Can’t know for sure until we look into it a bit,” said Lachlan. “So, you say that you’ve seen a specific car park here on each night of the murders.”

  “Yeah, that’s right,” said Dustin. “Never see the guy here any other time, but he was parked here on all of those dates.”

  “And how can you be sure of that? Some of these murders occurred quite some time ago.”

  “Well, I first realized it after this last one,” said Dustin. “This guy, he comes in rarely, but there’s something about him that’s memorable to me. So, when he came in the other night, I thought, ‘Oh, there’s that guy again.’ There’s something about him I don’t like. That man always makes me nervous.”

  “Why?” said Lachlan.

  “Something about the way he carries himself, I think. He’s so confident and closed off. And he’s distinctive. I take notice when he shows up.”

  “Okay,” said Lachlan. “Well, you noted he’d come in recently?”

  “Right,” said Dustin. “And then the next day, the news report was on about the murders. And I started thinking that it was weird that I saw him so rarely, and that he’d been there on the night of the last murder. I started to wonder if maybe he had been there for some of the other murders. I figured it was a long shot, but I started digging into the records, and sure enough, he was parked here for every single murder. And they all took place within a few blocks of this place, you know?”