The Stone Warriors: Dragan

by D. B. Reynolds

  Grace leaned back, one hand going to her rounded belly. “I like that. Weird old things.”

  “Congratulations,” Maeve said with a note of wonder. She’d never thought about these men having children. But of course, they would want to. And why not?

  “Thank you, I—”

  Nico dropped down in front of them, sitting on a huge hammock that was as much table, as seat. “Tell me how you got here.”

  She was tempted to tell him they’d driven her SUV, but figured that wasn’t what he was looking for. “We started with the idea that you were in Florida since Sotiris had once complained about hating it here, because—his words—‘that bastard’ had the whole place under his control. Dragan had told me your name, but I assumed you’d have modernized it somewhat to blend in. I tried a few variations, narrowing the search to Florida, and got a hit on Nicholas Katsaros from an old newspaper article on some big fundraiser that you contributed to. There was a picture, and Dragan said it was you. I cracked the Florida DMV and found your license, with this address on it.”

  “Did you?”

  “Yes. It’s what I do. In my spare time.”

  Nico grinned. “I want you to meet Lili, show her what you did. She’s my assistant, and a very talented computer expert. She wipes the internet of anything to do with me on a regular basis. So if you found me, she needs to know where.”

  “There’s one other thing,” she said, when he would have risen to take her immediately to meet Lili. The guy really liked his privacy, apparently.

  He sat back down. “Yes?”

  She glanced at Dragan who had turned to listen, then said, “Before we left the house, Sotiris’s house . . . he had a lot of museum-type collections there. Dragan took some knives, but I took. . . . I need my bag.” She looked to where it sat next to the door and made a move to get up, but Dragan beat her to it, walking over to pick up her computer bag, as well as the canvas duffle that held his sword and the other blades he’d taken from Sotiris’s collection.

  Sitting down again, he handed the computer over to Maeve, but reached into the duffle first, saying, “Mae has something interesting for you, but I have this.” He pulled out the short sword with a flourish and held it out to Nico, hilt first.

  Nico’s eyes lit up with surprised pleasure as he took the blade. “Where the hell—?”

  “The bastard had it in his collection. I figured maybe he stole it after . . . well, after.”

  Nico stood and turned sideways, giving himself enough room to swing the weapon in a complex pattern too fast for Maeve’s eyes to follow, the steel singing with the movement, despite its smaller size. “Just as sweet as ever,” he murmured, in much the same way she imagined he’d compliment a woman. These guys were really serious about their blades.

  “Thank you,” Nico said, holding the blade down and turning to grip Dragan’s shoulder. “I never thought I’d see it again.”

  Dragan shrugged. “We didn’t have much time, but the minute I saw that one hanging on the asshole’s wall—as if he’d earned it—I knew it was leaving with us.” He stroked a big hand gently over Maeve’s hair. “But Mae’s got something far more interesting, I think. Show him what you found, my sweet.”

  Maeve ducked her head to hide a blush as all eyes turned to stare at her, pretending to be occupied with reaching into the compartment behind her laptop and pulling out the purple velvet box. “It was the most protected item in his collection,” she said softly. “At least, the parts I saw. So I figured it might be important.” She opened the box lid and held it out.

  The others all crowded behind as Nico swore softly and dropped down to sit in front of her again. Except for Damian who’d thrown himself in front of Nico the moment she’d opened the box. He now stood with an unapologetic shrug. “I don’t know you,” he said simply.

  Dragan snarled angrily, but she touched his arm.

  “He’s right. I should have done that differently.” She looked to Nico to apologize, but found him staring in rapt amazement at the rock.

  “Fuck. Me,” he whispered reverently, despite the irreverent words. “He’s had this the whole time. I thought she had it.” He glanced up abruptly, as if he’d said more than he’d intended.

  “What is it?” Damian asked crouching next to Nico again. “I feel . . . I don’t know what I feel. It’s not dead, but—”

  “It sucks at my magic,” Dragan agreed. “It can’t grab it, though it sure would like to. But it’s as if it’s looking for a specific kind of magic, or maybe a specific person.”

  Nico met his gaze. “Sotiris,” he said, still whispering in awe. “It was designed to nullify Sotiris’s magic, specifically.”

  “Is that possible?” Dragan asked.

  “Yes. If you have his blood.” He stood without warning. “How the hell did he keep in his house without activating it?”

  He hadn’t addressed the question to Maeve, but she answered anyway. “It was under two separate glass shields. Maybe one of them—”

  “Was warded,” he finished for her. “Damn. All this time,” he murmured, then louder, “I have to secure this in the vault. Maeve, Dragan, you’re with me.”

  She startled a bit at the command, but let Dragan pull her to her feet and follow the sorcerer down the hall, past a room filled with computer equipment, and on to a huge office with a curved wall of windows overlooking the water. “That must be beautiful in sunlight,” she murmured.

  Nico heard her and turned. “It is. I work too much, and this reminds there’s a world out there. That’s the Intracoastal Waterway, by the way.”

  She smiled. “I was wondering.”

  He smiled back, and she just knew that he’d charmed many a woman with that smile. Fortunately, she wasn’t interested. She took Dragan’s hand, thinking she preferred wings with her smiles.

  Nico did something with the bookshelf that she missed, because she was gazing up at Dragan. But they both turned at a sound like that of a big freezer popping open. “Wow,” she said, eyes wide. “When you said ‘vault,’ I didn’t think—”

  “Sotiris doesn’t have one of these?”

  “Not that I ever saw.”

  “Come in, then.” Walking in ahead of them, he laid the short sword on a narrow table below a hanging display of blades, then carried the rock in its velvet box to a glass cabinet on the far wall. While he pulled out his keys to open the case, Maeve stood and stared.

  “Have you ever seen anything like this?” she whispered to Dragan.

  “We didn’t have such elaborate rooms in our world. Nico always had a room set aside in the castle where we lived, when we weren’t at war. But no, nothing like this.”

  Nico closed the cabinet, with the rock now inside it, and turned, walking back to join them. “You have no idea what you’ve brought me, do you?”

  She shook her head mutely. Somehow, this vault, all these artifacts, made her feel as if she was in a museum. One where people whispered as they studied the collection.

  “It’s called the hexagon. Small ‘h,’ he added with a wink. “It is ancient, in the sense that some generations ago, a sorcerer created it. It was created in my lifetime, as matter of fact, back then, before . . .” He gave Dragan a sorrowful look, reaching out to grip his upper arm, as if in silent apology. He drew a breath and continued. “Before the events that brought us all to this place and time.”

  “What does it do?” She ducked her head. “If you don’t mind my asking.”

  He grinned. “Since it wouldn’t be here without you, I don’t mind at all. It was designed as a weapon against Sotiris. Dragan, you spoke of how you felt it grabbing your magic, or trying to. It can’t, but it was designed to grab Sotiris’s, so it’s always looking.”

  “That’s why he had it under two layers of glass,” she whispered. “And so much security.” />
  “Oh, yes. I’m stunned he didn’t have it in a vault like this one, but he always was a braggart. Liked to plunder the kingdoms he’d conquer, then invite the widows and knights back to view the treasures he’d stolen from their dead husbands and liege. He probably had tea in there on occasion, just to stare and gloat over what it had cost—” He swallowed whatever he’d been about to say. “What it cost the ones who made it.”

  “Were you one of those, the ones who made it?” Dragan asked, something Maeve wanted to know, but would never have asked.

  Nico turned his head to stare at the rock again, then looked back with another smile, and said, “No, not me. I could never have gotten close enough to him. It required his own blood. It sings to him even now. He can sense when it’s close, because its magic is his, too.”

  “Is it safe here?” Maeve dared to ask.

  “Safest it can be. This whole house is a vault of sorts. I’ve got physical shields, as well magical wards. If I’m here, I doubt anyone could get through.”

  “And if you’re not?”

  He grinned. “Then you better call me quick.” He laughed. “Just kidding, sweet Mae,” he said with a wicked wink at Dragan. “The house will hold whether I’m here or not. There aren’t many who can best me when it comes to magic.”

  Maeve didn’t say anything, but she wondered if that meant Sotiris, too. Because hadn’t he already bested Nico once, when his warriors were all cursed?

  “Come on,” Nico said, holding his arm out toward the door. “Enough dreary talk. We need to celebrate our brother’s return, and meeting his lovely woman, too. The others will be wondering if I’ve kidnapped you.”

  “You’re back,” Damian shouted when they entered the big room. “We were about start without you.”

  “Start what?” Nico demanded, going to the bar and pouring himself what looked like vodka, although Maeve was hardly an expert when it came to alcohol. She’d always stuck with beer or wine.

  Dragan pulled her back to the sofa, where they’d been sitting, and where someone had replaced his empty bottle of ale with a fresh one. Sitting next to him, she snuggled against his side, prepared to watch the others.

  But then Damian suddenly dropped down in front of her, taking the hammock that Nico had occupied earlier, and regarded Maeve expectantly, as if waiting for her to produce more odd magical rocks from her bag.

  “Dragan,” she said, squeezing his arm. “You haven’t told them about the vampires we fought on the way here.”

  “Vampires?” Gabriel leaned closer. “I’ve some news on the front, too. They might be related.”

  “I’d like to hear that,” Nico said. “What happened?” He sat on the opposite couch and put his legs on the hammock, shoving Damian aside. The big man only laughed and sat next to him, pulling Casey to his side.

  “We ran afoul of a few in. . . . Where was it, Mae?”

  “West Virginia,” she provided. “I don’t remember exactly what the name of the town was, but I can find it on my nav, if it’s important.”

  “We stopped for gas,” Dragan continued. “Vampires came out of the shadows, attacked Mae. She fought back, I helped.” She made a scoffing noise, which he ignored. “Three vampires, and the . . . sheriff?” He made it a question.

  “Yes, the sheriff and his deputy.

  “Both of them vampires too,” he agreed.

  “All dead?”

  “Only the three who attacked. The sheriff wasn’t visibly upset at losing them. He was too busy twisting himself into knots trying to figure out what I am.”

  “Did you tell him?” Nico asked.

  “Of course not. What would I say? The magic is so weak here, anyway.”

  “But your powers are intact.” It was a statement, not a question.

  Dragan nodded. “My strength has revived since then. I don’t believe the goddess exists in this world, but she’s lurking close enough that my magic is at full strength. More’s the pity.”

  “It’s a weapon, Dragan,” Nico said comfortably, with the air of a man who’d said it many times. “Kato’s magic is fully restored, Damian’s as he ever was, and Gabriel has gone vampire.”

  “Vampire?” Dragan asked in disbelief. “Since when?”

  “It’s a long story. It can wait,” Gabriel commented.

  “But you still swear oath to Nico?”

  “Nico will always have my loyalty, just as you and our brothers do. But I live in the court of Lord Raphael, a very, very powerful vampire.”

  Nico snorted his opinion of that, and Gabriel laughed. “Raphael and Nico don’t get along. Something to do with a woman, I believe.”

  “Hardly,” Nico muttered.

  Gabriel was still chuckling. “She is a very beautiful woman,” he commented, amusement still coating his words.

  “Moving on,” Nico snapped. “Dragan, you mentioned earlier that Sotiris had you in his stronghold. Was it all this time?”

  “No, only the last century or so. He found me in the wreckage of a mansion in what I know now was France, after World War I. The journey took months, but he moved me to the house where Maeve found me.”

  “So you’re what?” Nico shifted his curious gaze to Maeve. “An antiquities expert, like Grace?”

  “No, no,” she corrected quickly. “I told Grace. It’s more of an avocation. My graduate work was in computer programming.”

  “That’s an odd combination.”

  “But a great one,” Casey interjected enthusiastically. “We can really use another tech in the field.”

  “The field?” Maeve asked. “You mean antiquities? That’s not—”

  “No,” Casey corrected. “The field. Like out there in the world, looking for magical stuff.”

  Taken aback, she stammered her reply. “Oh, I don’t, that is . . .”

  “Speaking of the field,” Dragan said, saving her. “There’s something I think you need to know. Sotiris used to visit me, mostly to brag about his latest victories. But lately he’s had a very specific litany. He kept bragging of how I was going to make him the most powerful sorcerer in the world. That not even you would be able to best him. I hoped that—”

  “He said you would do that?” Nico interrupted. “You specifically?”

  “Yes. He began going on about it a few weeks ago, I think. Time was . . . difficult to keep a track of.”

  “What the fuck could he mean by that?” Nico asked, looking at the others. “It can’t be about kidnapping Hana, not if he was still—” He stared intently at Dragan. “Did he stop recently? Or was he still bragging about it?”

  “The last time he visited, which was. . . . How long ago, Mae?”

  “Just before your curse broke,” she said thoughtfully. “Because after he left, I came down and sat with you, and that’s when . . . it happened. So . . .” She counted back. “A week, if you count today.”

  “Damn it. What the hell’s he up to now?” Nico demanded.

  “That’s where I come in,” Gabriel said, surprising everyone. “And why Raphael was so eager to have me fly across the country to meet with all of you.”

  Nico scowled, but made a “give” gesture with one hand. “Fine. Give me the message. What’s the bloodsucker have to say?”

  Gabriel gave a longsuffering sigh, but said only, “It’s not a message, so much as a troubling report. Raphael knows how little you concern yourself with vampires—”

  “Present company excluded,” Nico interrupted.

  “But there’s something going on in Mexico that, when added to Dragan’s new information, is ominous for all of us.” He turned to address Dragan and Maeve. “I don’t know how familiar you are with the vampires on this continent—”

  “Not at all,” Maeve answered, while Dragan just shook his head.

 
“Right. So we have eight vampire territories here, each ruled by a single, very powerful vampire lord. I’m talking rattle-the-earth powerful, and Raphael can do more than that.” He ignored Nico’s pfft of dismissal. “What matters here is that the entire country of Mexico is a single territory, ruled by Lord Vincent. And what he reports is that vampires are being murdered down there. Not just any vampires, but master vampires, especially the strong ones.”

  “You sure it’s not just Vincent cleaning house?” Nico asked. “There were a lot of unhappy vamps left behind when he killed Enrique.”

  “No, he wouldn’t have bothered reporting something like that. He called Raphael, because he thought it might be another attempt by the Europeans to weaken the North American alliance, and wanted to know if anyone else had experienced the same violence. Once Raphael heard details of the killings, and saw the few images people managed to get on their phones before the bodies dusted, he suspected magic was involved somehow. He was about to send me down there to investigate when you called to tell me Dragan had been freed. The coincidence was too much, especially given the unusual deaths and the likelihood that sorcery was in play.” He grinned. “It also meant he didn’t have to call you.”

  Nico snorted. “He never calls anyway. He asks Cyn to do it, which I don’t mind at all.”

  “Exactly. And he doesn’t ask Cyn, she persuades him to let her call, so the two of you don’t waste time exchanging thirty minutes of insults over a two-minute conversation.”

  “Whatever. What’s so mysterious about these deaths?”

  “They’re being sucked dry of power, not blood. They’re left alive, but dry as jerky, the blood like red ash in their veins. Their people have tried to revive them, feeding them blood like a baby, because they’re too wasted to tap a vein. But it doesn’t work. They fade to dust within 24 hours, no matter what anyone tries.”

  “Why assume sorcery’s involved?”