No Good Dragon Goes Unpunished (Heartstrikers Book 3)

by Rachel Aaron

  “No!” Marci said, putting up her hands at once. “There’s no need to be hasty. Let’s talk this through.”

  “I’d love to,” Algonquin said. “But I’m afraid your dragon doesn’t have time to wait while we discuss. I’ve done extensive experiments on how long it takes dragons to drown, and while the older female can probably last a good twenty minutes, a little baby like this isn’t much better than your average human. I give him two minutes before he passes out and another three before the oxygen deprivation kills his brain. That gives us five minutes to arrange the conditions of your surrender.”

  Marci froze, her brain spinning frantically to find a way out of this, but Algonquin wasn’t finished.

  “And before you waste any time trying to convince me you don’t care about him, remember that I know your history.” She smiled Marci’s own smile down at Julius, who was thrashing frantically inside the watery prison. “I know exactly what the Heartstriker’s infamous Nice Dragon means to you, Marci Novalli, which means you have two options: continue being stubborn and watch the object of your ill-conceived affections die, or agree to work for me and I set them all free. It’s the same deal you offered me last night, so it shouldn’t take you long. Whatever you decide, though, do it quick. You’ve only got four minutes left before the water makes the choice for you.”

  By the time she finished, Marci’s heart was pounding so hard it hurt. Ghost?

  I can’t stop her, he said, answering the question she’d been too frantic to complete. I’ve already put the people she killed to rest. That means Algonquin is stronger than I am again, and Julius isn’t connected to me like you are, so I can’t take him into death where immortal spirits can’t reach like I can for you.

  Marci swore under her breath. That had been her next question. “What about you?” she asked, looking at General Jackson and Raven, because forget Myron. “You’re some kind of crazy super-weapon, right? Can’t you do something?”

  “If we could stand up to Algonquin, we would have done it years ago,” Raven said, shaking his head. “I know this is difficult, Marci, but you can’t give in. If Algonquin’s also trying to get her hands on the first Merlin, that makes you more important than ever. You’re the only weapon we have against her. We can’t let her win.”

  That was easy for him to say. He was an immortal animal spirit, and his dragon wasn’t drowning. “But we don’t even know if I can help!” she cried. “I’m not even a Merlin yet! For all we know, I never will be.”

  “You will,” General Jackson promised, stepping forward. “Ignore what Myron said. He’s a prideful fool, and he’s hardly our only mage. Whatever help you want, I’ll get it for you. I will stay here and fight Algonquin myself to buy you time to escape if I have to. I’ll do whatever it takes, but I will not let our first chance in sixty years of actually fighting back sink into that lake. Do you understand me?”

  Marci did. Trouble was, Emily and Raven’s goals weren’t hers. They were fighting for the bigger picture and the lofty ideals. Marci was just a human mage watching the dragon who’d saved her life more times than she could count drown because of her. Drowning for nothing, too, she realized, because even if she agreed to work for Algonquin, the spirit couldn’t actually make her do what she wanted. If the road to being a Merlin really was through her spirit like she thought, then there was nothing Algonquin could do to force her to take it. No matter what happened, Marci’s magic was her own, and once Julius was free, she wouldn’t have to obey a word.

  And we can always escape again, the Empty Wind reminded her smugly. Algonquin won’t keep us for more than a day.

  Now that was a plan Marci could get behind, and she turned back to Algonquin. “If I agree, do you swear to let Julius and everyone else here leave the DFZ alive and unharmed?”

  “Don’t do it!” Emily yelled.

  “Of course,” the Lady of the Lakes said over her. “You think one more whelp matters to me? Surrender, and your little dragon will be free to scurry home until the next time he’s stupid enough to enter my lands.”

  Marci nodded, putting out her empty hands. “Then I surrender.”

  “No!” Emily roared, startling Raven off her shoulder. “Think about what you’re doing! You’re betraying your entire race for a dragon!”

  “I’m not betraying my race,” Marci said angrily. “I’m saving my friend.” That word was nowhere near enough to describe what Julius was to her, but Marci didn’t have time to think of a better one. Especially since Julius was still drowning. “I said I surrender!” she yelled at Algonquin. “Release him!”

  “I never go back on my word,” Algonquin said, her watery voice insulted. “But first, a little insurance.”

  She nodded toward the UN team, and the Leviathan obeyed, sending tentacles out to coil around Emily and Myron as well, binding their arms and legs before dragging them both to the ground. Myron went down peacefully, but General Jackson fought the whole way, catching the black appendage with both her arms and stopping the monster cold.

  Another time, that show of strength would have made Marci gasp. She’d yet to see anything that could even faze the Leviathan, much less stop it. Now, though, she didn’t even have time to care. She only watched the general’s fight long enough to make sure Emily wasn’t actually going to break free before she turned back to Algonquin. “Okay, you’ve got them,” she said, eyes locked on Julius, who’d stopped struggling. “Now let him go.”

  “As my Merlin commands,” Algonquin said, waving her hand. The watery prison burst as her fingers passed over it, and Julius spilled out onto the grass, coughing up lungfuls of water before he took the most beautiful breath Marci had ever heard.

  “He’s alive,” she said, almost falling to her knees. “He’s alive.”

  “For now,” Algonquin said coldly. “But if you want him to stay that way, you’ll have to keep your end.” She raised her hand to beckon Marci over. “Come. We have much work to do to repair the damage you caused.”

  Marci took a step then paused. “What about her?” she asked, looking at Chelsie, who was still trapped inside her own unbreakable bubble. “I said everyone.”

  The spirit shook her head. “Bethesda’s Shade is a dangerous, treacherous snake. I’m afraid I can’t set her free until you’re safely with me, so if you don’t want her to drown and be added to my pile, you’d better hurry.” She snapped her fingers and pointed to the ground beside her. “Come.”

  The indignity of being commanded like a dog hit Marci hard, but she was the one who’d signed up for this, so she went, walking across the muddy, bloody grass until she was standing where she’d been told at Algonquin’s side.

  “Don’t listen to her!” Emily yelled, her voice strained from her ongoing fight with the Leviathan. “It’s not too late. Run, Marci! You can’t—”

  “Shut her up,” Algonquin growled, jerking her head at the Leviathan. The monster obeyed instantly, adding three more tentacles to the pile it was using to force Emily to the ground. This proved to be too much even for the general. She went down with a crunch, sinking out of sight into the mud beneath the weight of the Leviathan’s glistening, eel-like flesh.

  “Much better,” Algonquin said, turning back to Marci. “Let’s go.”

  “Wait,” she said, looking at Julius, who was still catching his breath on the muddy grass in front of them. “Can I at least say good-bye?”

  “No,” Algonquin said crisply. “You’ve proven too untrustworthy to be allowed niceties, and I’ve had about as much human sentimentality as I can stomach for one day.” She crooked her finger, and the Leviathan pulled one of the tentacles off the pile it was using to crush Emily and lowered it to the ground beside Marci. “Get on.”

  As before, just touching the monster’s slimy appendage made her queasy, but Marci’s eternally plotting mind was already going double time. She knew the meeker she played it now, the better her chances for escape would be later, and so she lowered her eyes and played the conquered human to th
e hilt, grabbing onto the offered tentacle like obeying Algonquin was the only thing she had left to live for. She was twisting her head to sneak one last look at Julius when a thundering crack rang out through the crisp morning air.

  It was a sound Marci had heard only twice before, but the thunderclap of General Emily Jackson’s incredible magical cannon wasn’t something you forgot. Sure enough, when she looked up, the general had wrestled her arm out of the Leviathan’s grasp, her glove smoking from the laser-like shot that had just fired from the magical markings on her metal palm. It happened so suddenly, Marci actually had the time to wonder what General Jackson had shot before she saw the wisp of smoke rising from her own chest.

  “Marci!”

  Julius’s frantic scream sounded very far away. Everything felt like that as she looked down to see the perfectly round, still-smoldering hole Emily’s attack had burned right through the center of her body.

  Thanks to the instant cauterization, realizing what had just happened hurt more than the actual shot. Marci hadn’t known the general well, but she’d been certain Emily was on her side. Fatal mistake, apparently. Fortunately, the sting of betrayal was as distant and hazy as everything else as Marci toppled off the Leviathan into the mud. She was enjoying being able to lie flat when Julius’s frantic face appeared above her, his soaked hair dripping cold lake water onto her forehead as he screamed at her to hold on. To stay with him.

  Oddly, it was his fear, not her own, that finally kicked her into action. Everything still felt detached and far away, but the moment Marci realized she was going to die in Julius’s arms, she decided to start caring. She forced her mouth open, forced herself to breathe, as much as she could, anyway, with burning holes in her lungs. She even pulled in magic because she’d read on the Internet once that simply holding magic could preserve a mage’s life. There were numerous practical reasons why that wouldn’t make a lick of difference, of course, but she did it anyway, clinging to life in every way she could think of while Julius worked on her wound, tearing off his shirt and pressing it into her chest in a desperate effort to staunch her wound.

  Lying flat on her back, Marci couldn’t see how that was going. From the look on his face, though, her guess was not good. As he grew more and more desperate, Marci began to finally understand that she was dying. Actually dying. For real.

  Marci!

  Her spirit’s voice rang through her head, and Marci cracked open her eyes—which she hadn’t realized she’d closed—to see the Empty Wind standing over her. I can see it!

  “See what?” she croaked, making Julius jump.

  How we become a Merlin.

  That got her attention.

  I couldn’t see it before because you were alive, he said excitedly. But now that you’re on the threshold, it’s right there! Just on the other side.

  By which she assumed he meant death.

  He scoffed. Surely you are not afraid of death?

  Of course she was. Everyone was afraid of death, even immortals. Especially immortals, which was why all the spirits had run when Ghost’s army had come marching down the mountain.

  But you won’t run, the Empty Wind said with absolute certainty. You alone have never feared me. We were matched for a reason, you and I. You told me we would be a great Merlin. Now’s our chance to do it.

  He put out his hand, passing it right under Julius, who didn’t seem to see the spirit at all. We’ll make the jump together, he promised. Let me guide you as you guided me.

  But Marci didn’t want to take his hand. She didn’t want to die. She especially didn’t want to do it in front of Julius, who looked like he was on the edge of something terrifying. She’d never seen him look so scared, not even when he was the one who’d been shot, and the sight broke her heart for both of them. There was too much left to do. She hadn’t gotten her flight through the sky yet. She hadn’t even kissed him properly. What was the point of surviving everything else if she died before she got her dragon?

  That thought was enough to make her cry. If she’d had the breath left for words, she would have told Julius she was sorry. Sorry for the waste, sorry for stumbling at the last second. She would have kissed him, too. She should have done it the moment she’d seen him, but it hadn’t felt appropriate. Now, all she could think was how stupid she’d been. Every chance she’d had to tell him the truth about how she felt, she’d let something get in the way. She’d always told herself she was just waiting for the right time, and now, suddenly, there was no time left.

  The moment that thought crossed her mind, Marci knew this was it. For someone who’d spent as much time with death as she had recently, she’d never realized just how final the icy hand would feel when it finally closed over her. The weight of it was already pushing down on her so hard, she couldn’t keep her eyes open. She tried her best, if only so she could keep looking at Julius for just a little longer, but she was just so tired. Everything was cold and dark and heavy now. But even when she finally gave in and slid her eyes closed, the Empty Wind was still there, waiting for her in the dark with his hand still outstretched.

  Take it.

  No. She didn’t want to. If she took it, that was the end.

  It’s already the end! he cried, his deep voice cracking. Please, Marci, you have to trust me. I can see exactly where we have to go. I’ll take you there, I swear it, but if you go by yourself, I can’t follow. You’re too remembered, too loved. If you leave without me now, you’ll pass out of my reach forever, and I’ll be alone again. You promised you wouldn’t leave me alone!

  He was almost begging by the time he finished, and it broke her heart all over again, because he was right. She had promised. Julius loved her, she knew, but he had others who could help him when she was gone. Ghost had no one. No one to trust, no one to cling to. No one but her.

  With that, Marci knew what she had to do. Sucking in what was probably the last breath she’d ever take, she gathered what was left of her strength, which she’d intended to use to grab Julius’s hand one last time, and took the Empty Wind’s instead, wrapping her fingers around his ghostly flesh, which now felt as warm and welcoming as any human skin. “I trust you,” she whispered. “Take me there.”

  She’d barely finished before the Empty Wind yanked, snatching her out of the cold, dead weight of her body into the dark.

  And with that, Marci Caroline Novalli died.

  Chapter 18

  “No!” Julius screamed. “Don’t go! Don’t you dare go, Marci!”

  But she wasn’t listening. What was left of her attention was focused on Ghost. Julius hadn’t seen the spirit since she’d been shot, but he knew he was there, occupying the last few seconds of Marci’s life. And in that moment, Julius hated him for it.

  “You can’t have her!” he yelled furiously. “I’ll remember her forever! She’ll never be yours!”

  But it was already too late. Marci’s warm eyes had already closed, her lips moving in words he couldn’t hear. He was leaning down in a desperate attempt to try and make them out when her hand lifted, her long, lovely fingers curling like she was reaching for something he couldn’t see. By the time he grabbed her, though, there was nothing left. Her grip was gone, leaving only the limp coldness of her lifeless hand. And that was when Julius knew—knew with every cell in his body—that she was dead. Marci was dead, and he’d never see her again. Never get to tell her he loved her, never fly with her, never kiss her. He’d never get to see her eyes light up when she figured something out, never hear her laugh. She’d never tease him, never hug him. Everything she was, everything he’d treasured was gone forever, and he would never see it again. Never, never, never.

  And it was all that human’s fault.

  “You,” he said quietly, his voice flat and terrifying even to him as he turned on Emily Jackson, who was still being crushed beneath the Leviathan. “You did this.”

  A few feet away, Algonquin smiled, her face changing to mirror the cold, terrifying rage Julius barely recognized as h
is own before she flicked her fingers, commanding the Leviathan away from the general, who rose to her knees.

  “You did this,” he said again, gently folding Marci’s lifeless hands over her bloody chest. “You killed her.”

  “I did,” she said, looking him dead in the eyes. “But she left me no choice. The Merlin is humanity’s greatest weapon. I knew before we came here that I would destroy her before I let her fall into the hands of our enemy.”

  “Marci’s not a weapon!” Julius roared. “She’s a person. My person!” He bared his sharpening teeth. “You murdered her!”

  The general didn’t deny it. She just stripped off her jacket, revealing a pair of obviously artificial arms beneath a sleeveless shirt. That was all Julius saw before the fire consumed him.

  Even in his rage, that was a surprise. He’d never had fire when he’d changed before. Other dragons did, but he’d always assumed it was a flashy trick to impress others. Now that it was happening to him, though, Julius understood that others had nothing to do with it. The fire came from inside, from the flames that raged when he finally unleashed the desire to kill. Julius hadn’t even known he had feelings like that until they bit down hard, devouring his grief and anger until he was nothing but fire and the desperate need to bite back. And that was what he did, dropping his Peace Keeper Fang on the ground before it could freeze him as he lunged for Emily’s throat.

  She blocked him easily, catching him under the jaw and slamming him into the ground with inhuman strength. But Julius was used to this treatment after a lifetime of being his family’s punching bag, and he rolled right back up, lunging at her again. And again, she caught him, though not quite as quickly this time.

  “Stop this,” Emily growled, fighting to keep him pinned. “You have every right to be angry, but fighting me won’t—”