The Stone Warriors: Dragan

by D. B. Reynolds

  She swallowed, but gave Nico a nod. He had a point, although he couldn’t know about her snooping. Could he?

  “Good. We know roughly what this device of his does—it stores power—but not what he wants it for. And there’s no way in hell he’d go to all this trouble and not use the damn thing. Any power he’s invested in its creation will be wasted if he waits too long, and the power he drained from those vampires won’t last forever. In fact, I’d guess not long at all. So, if nothing else, he’ll want to test it. Sotiris rarely uses a magical weapon without testing it first. Questions?” He looked around the table, meeting every gaze in turn, including hers.

  She couldn’t think of anything, so she gave him a steady look and said nothing, while her thoughts whirled faster and faster. She and the gang were going to commit a crime tomorrow night. Her initial shock was quickly being replaced by excitement growing in her gut like bubbles in a shaken bottle of soda. She was going to break into a luxury penthouse, just like in a movie. How cool was that?

  Not cool at all, she thought hours later. She and Dragan had arrived back at the hotel with dawn still painting the sky, both of them torn over whether to talk or simply fall into bed. So they’d done both, which was why they now sat cross-legged on the bed, sitting side-by-side, with cups of herbal tea that neither of them was drinking sitting on the nightstand.

  “What if something happens?” she asked, not for the first time.

  “Then you’ll handle it,” Dragan said confidently. “And I’ll be with you the whole time.”

  Maeve snorted softly, remembering her determination to be in on the mission in order to cover his back. More likely, he’d be covering hers. “I can bring my gun.”

  “You can, but you won’t need it. Mae,” he said, pulling her into a one-armed embrace. “There’s not going to be any problem. I’ll make sure of it. It’s what I was born to do.”

  “No,” she said vehemently, turning so their faces were only inches apart. “You were born to live your own life, just like everyone else. Some goddess took over and forced you to fight her wars your whole life, but that’s over with. Don’t you dare risk your life to protect me.”

  He grinned. “You’re asking the impossible. Goddess or no, I will always risk my life to protect the people I love.” He kissed her softly. “And that includes you, sweet Mae.”

  “Fine, then I get to risk my life for you, too.”

  He scowled. When she raised her eyebrows and gave him a sharp look, his scowl deepened. “Then I’ll make sure it doesn’t come to that.”

  She knew he’d been playing word games with his answer, but it didn’t matter, because it didn’t change her determination. So what if she wasn’t a hardened soldier? She’d keep him safe, if it killed her. She only hoped it didn’t.

  THEY ARRIVED AT Nico’s that night, just as full dark fell. Kato and Grace had followed them from the hotel, and when Dragan pulled into the wide space in front of the house, he saw that Damian and Casey were already there. It didn’t surprise him, and it didn’t matter that they weren’t going on this operation. They were brothers and would always have each other’s backs. Maeve didn’t understand that yet, because she didn’t know the others as well as he did. But from the moment Nico had called them from the corners of the earth, across time itself, they’d been of one mind, one heart. It didn’t matter who went on what mission, the others were always there to provide whatever support was needed. Whether it was packing gear or marching into danger, the four brothers were one. Nico had been a member of that brotherhood, too, but as the ruler of whatever territories they’d conquered, he’d had other duties that frequently drew him away. When the call to arms came, however, and they faced the enemy in battle, Nico had always stood side-by-side with them on the frontline.

  When Damian opened the door, Dragan ushered Maeve in with a hand on her lower back. “What the hell took you so long?” Damian demanded. “We’ve been here for hours.”

  “More like minutes, big guy,” Casey said dryly, walking past him while pouring some kind of juice into a glass filled with ice.

  “Quiet, woman.” To which she laughed.

  Maeve went to sit with Casey and talk computers, since she remembered the other woman saying something about needing another tech in the field. Maybe Casey could give her some tips. Or maybe she’d volunteer to go in Maeve’s place. Except she knew it was too late for that. Even if Lili showed up at the last minute, Maeve would have insisted on going. She knew it was stupid, but she believed in her heart that Dragan would be safe as long as she was with him. Besides, she knew computers as well as either of them.

  Dragan brought in his sword and knives, and Damian quickly lost interest in greeting arrivals in favor of “helping” Dragan find a better weapon.

  Opening a cupboard in the sitting room near the front door, he revealed row after row of weapons—a few blades, but mostly guns of various kinds. When he lifted something he called an MK-5 and offered it to Dragan, Maeve spoke up from behind them asking, “Do you know how to operate that, Damian?”

  Dragan and Kato started laughing, which startled her until she saw the affronted look on Damian’s face. Which only made the two of them laugh harder.

  Maeve, of course, didn’t understand. “Is something fun—?”

  Damian interrupted her to roar, “I’m a fucking god of war!”

  Dragan pulled Maeve to his side, just in case Damian forgot she was far more delicate than he was. He tightened his arm when he felt her shaking against him, but when he looked down, he saw she was laughing, her cheek held tightly between her teeth to keep the sound from leaking out.

  “You never were,” Nico commented as he walked into the room. “Any news?” he asked Casey, pouring himself a cup of coffee and sitting next to her.

  “Bastard’s private plane took off for somewhere last night. Flight plan said St. Louis, but that doesn’t mean he went there.”

  “Did he file a flight back?”

  “Not yet. But we should have at least an hour’s window, once he does. If he does. Just because his plane is gone, doesn’t mean he is. But the man I put on the building, after Maeve identified it, says Sotiris hasn’t come or gone for a few days, according to the doorman.”

  Damian listened carefully, then closed the weapons cupboard and said, “There’s an indoor firing range in the building out back. If we’re taking that asshole on again, we need to bring Dragan up to speed.” He didn’t wait for a response, just walked out of the room and down the hall.

  Maeve looked up at Dragan, who shrugged and said, “He is good with weapons, and I wouldn’t mind learning.”

  “I’ve a good selection out there. Or Damian does,” Nico said absently, while reading something on the computer.

  “What do you say, sweet?”

  “Let’s go,” she enthused. “I want to see this.”

  Manhattan, New York, New York

  FOUR HOURS LATER, Maeve, Dragan, and Nico opened the doors of the shiny Lincoln Town Car that had been waiting for them at the airport, and stood in front of Sotiris’s building. Gabriel, who was behind the wheel, was going to remain with the vehicle to watch for any threats. That was code, she’d figured out immediately, for the return of Sotiris or his vampire bodyguard. But as he pulled the big car forward to idle at the curb—a site so common in Manhattan that it wouldn’t merit a second look—she stared up at the very tall, very secure building, and said, “Forget about the penthouse, how are we getting into the building?” She stared pointedly at the three smartly uniformed men who stood inside the glassed-in and very much locked-down lobby.

  Nico gave her a mischievous look and headed for the doors, while Dragan took her hand and followed. Neither of the men hesitated for even a half step. Nico lifted a hand at the doorman behind the desk, there was a discrete click, and by the time he reached for the door, it was ope
n and waiting for him.

  “Good evening, sir,” the door guard greeted Nico, as if he was not only familiar, but expected. “Penthouse?”

  “Yes. These are my guests.”

  “Of course, sir. This way, please.” He led them to an open elevator, reached in and keyed what Maeve assumed was the penthouse, then stepped back and said, “Have a pleasant evening.”

  The shiny doors closed silently and the elevator started up with a speed that told her this was an express elevator to the top. No tedious stops in between. She held back the million and one questions she had. Obviously, Nico had used magic, but she hadn’t seen so much as a stray finger tick, or a whispered word. How the hell had he done it? Were spells that easily cast, or was he simply that powerful? Did it take a sorcerer to use magic that effortlessly?

  Dragan squeezed her hand, as if understanding her need to understand, while at the same time, knowing her questions would have to wait. Damn it.

  The elevator doors opened on a small, hushed foyer, with fresh flowers on long stalks sitting in a tall, crystal vase to one side. That surprised her. Sotiris had never evinced any liking for flowers at the lake house, despite the abundance of wild blooms in the spring. She’d often thought of bringing some of the flowers indoors to brighten the cold elegance of the house, but had worried he might have allergies, which was why he’d never took advantage of the natural beauty.

  Nico paused at the pair of carved wooden doors facing the elevator, and closed his eyes. She wondered what he was doing. Looking for magical traps? It made sense that a sorcerer would have security of his own surrounding his home. Especially if, as Maeve believed, this was his main residence and the location of his workroom. She was only surprised, knowing what she did now, that he hadn’t had similar safeguards on the lake. But then he couldn’t, because she’d worked there. Had she been just more camouflage? Maybe.

  Nico tilted his head with small smile, as if admiring the cleverness of his enemy, then murmured something she couldn’t hear and opened the right-hand door. She blinked and wondered what other locked doors he’d walked through over the course of his life. Famous museums? Palaces? He could have been the best thief in the fucking world.

  Ushering her into the penthouse after Nico, Dragan nudged the door shut behind them, while they both stopped and looked around. A huge great room opened in front of them with tastefully placed furniture groupings and floor-to-ceiling windows comprising one entire wall. Sotiris hadn’t bothered with coverings. There was no one up this high to see in. Although she suspected the windows were one-way, anyway. In her experience, he was too private to tolerate even the possibility of anyone spying on him.

  Nico had grown perfectly still in front of them, but only briefly before his head swung to the left, where a good fifty feet of unlit hallway stretched out, with closed doors along both sides. He drew in a deep breath through his nose, like a dog tracing a scent, then turned to the two of them and said, “The workroom’s there.” His gaze shifted to Maeve. “His main computer will be elsewhere. Magic fucks with electronics. Find it. Dragan, you know what to do.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Maeve shot a surprised glance at Dragan. My lord? Where had that come from? She hadn’t heard any of the guys addressing Nico by anything but his name. It was another question that would have to wait, she thought, as she stepped farther into the great room and looked around.

  By any normal American standard, and with two doctors for parents, she’d been raised well off with part-time household staff and private schools. But this . . . this was beyond well off. This was wealthy. She wondered how much of his fortune had been acquired through the destruction of someone else. She’d bet it was a lot.

  “Time is short, Mae,” Dragan murmured.

  “Right.” She forced herself to forget the opulence and focus on the structure. Beyond a certain size, houses followed a logical layout. Bedrooms on one side, living areas on the other, with something like this great room dividing the two. She looked around and caught a glimpse of dining room furniture through an open double door. Okay, so dining room there, kitchen beyond, which meant . . . she turned toward the giant windows. “There,” she said confidently. “Let’s go.”

  Dragan’s boots cracked dully on the gleaming wood floor, which she couldn’t help but admire. Beautiful wood, beautifully maintained. Not by Sotiris, obviously. A discreet door opened to a short hallway, which smelled of oiled wood and paper. The reason became clear when they passed a small library—small being relative, she supposed, since most people didn’t have an entire room dedicated to books. She would have liked to duck inside and skim the titles, but there was no time. They thought they knew where Sotiris was, but they didn’t know when he’d be back, or if he was even really there. Hell, he could walk in that door at any moment and shout, “Surprise!” And they’d be fucked.

  Forcing herself to remain cool . . . ish, she walked several more feet down the hallway and stopped at the open door to a room that smelled oddly familiar. She stepped inside and sniffed. “Son of a bitch,” she swore softly.

  “What?” Dragan’s question was sharp, ready to respond to a threat.

  “Oh, no,” she said, brushing her hand over his arm. “It’s just . . . this room smells like Sotiris. His aftershave, I guess, but I was never aware of smelling it before now.”

  He jerked his chin toward the desk, where a laptop sat open. “That it?”

  “I’m guessing yes to that, too, but let’s find out.” She sat down and brought the laptop to life. It required a password, of course. She didn’t know it, but had something almost as good. Pulling a small electronic device from her pocket, she slid it into the USB drive and waited until the screen cleared to the command line interface. She then inserted her own flash drive, typed a command, and after a few seconds, smiled. It would take too much time, and be way too stressful, for her to crack Sotiris’s computer, examine the contents, and copy what she needed, during their short visit. But she didn’t need to do that. All she needed to do was persuade the system that she was a helpful computer tech and convince it to let her make a duplicate.

  Most people didn’t realize it could even be done, but a lot of programs, a lot of computers, included language that allowed their techs to remotely access a person’s machine. In the normal course of business, they acquired verbal permission, and recorded that permission to cover their own asses, but it wasn’t strictly necessary.

  Maeve knew several people through her gaming activities who worked in tech support, for various companies. And they’d been happy to share what they knew, since they trusted her. She happened to be trustworthy, but wondered if any of them ever made the mistake of trusting the wrong person.

  But that wasn’t her problem, especially not tonight. She jumped a little when the flash drive gave a discreet beep.

  “Problem?” Dragan asked.

  “No. Just need to switch out the flash drive. I’m copying the whole thing.”

  “Make it fast,” he reminded her, then wandered over to a pair of glass-paned doors which looked onto a small balcony. He pushed the doors open.

  “Careful,” she cautioned, glancing over.

  “There’s a balcony,” he told her. “And Nico’s shut the alarms down.” He stepped outside.

  She stared for a moment, uncomfortable with him standing exposed so high up, and on a balcony that couldn’t be all that big. She could see him out there, his back to the room, while he seemed to be studying the surrounding buildings. When he didn’t move, beyond turning his head, she went back to watching her flash drives, urging them silently to go faster.

  NICK WAITED UNTIL Dragan and Maeve were beyond the great room before turning to the closed door of Sotiris’s workroom. There was no doubt that this was it. It reeked of magic, despite the obvious shields. He sent out a slow, gentle probe first, his hands gliding a few inches
above the breadth and width of the door, paying extra attention to the corners and edges where defensive spells might be lurking. Sotiris had warded this entire penthouse against intrusion, beginning with a light spell over the downstairs lobby and continuing upward. The penthouse’s primary doors had both been more heavily ensorcelled, but nothing Nick couldn’t handle. It was almost as if Sotiris had been confident that he wouldn’t attempt to invade this residence. An odd assumption, if true. Perhaps he’d felt secure in the subterfuge of his several homes to conceal this place. Or maybe he’d assumed Nick was weaker in this world than in the one they’d both been born in, the one where Sotiris had succeeded in casting his brutal curse against Nick’s warriors. The bastard had been right about one thing. Hurting the others had wounded Nick far more deeply and for a much longer time, than any injury to himself could have done.

  But he knew Sotiris, too. Most especially his ego. As soon as Maeve had told him about this place, this penthouse on top of one of the world’s great cities, he’d known that the bastard’s workroom would be here. Sotiris had always believed he deserved the best of all things simply because he was who he was. The second greatest sorcerer in the world, he thought, grinning to himself. Though he was certain Sotiris would have phrased it differently.

  But first or second, his fellow sorcerer was damn powerful, his magical strength not to be taken lightly. The protections over this workroom would be potent, tricky, and multiple. It would behoove him to pay attention to what he was doing, rather than losing himself in the past.

  He located and disarmed several nasty warding spells, then searched again from the very beginning, taking his time, despite the urgency of their mission. Those would have been the obvious traps, intended to disarm any invader, and lull him into false confidence. But even while he searched carefully for the remaining wards, he was mindful of the clock ticking down. He didn’t trust Sotiris to file an accurate flight plan, or even to be on his own plane. He rarely did it, himself. It could be days, could be hours. Hell, it could minutes, though he doubted that.