Cash (Dragon Hearbeats Book 3)

by Ava Benton

  “Oh. I was going to say, here’s the thing: no matter how many times we looked at the maps online, nothing could’ve prepared me for this.” Maps sat still. They didn’t live and breathe. They didn’t speed down the wrong side of the road—to us, at least, if not to the other drivers.

  It wasn’t just the driving. We were in a new world. It was one thing to watch the miles of land surrounding our mountain slowly grow over time, dirt roads making way for paved roads, cottages making way for hotels and apartment buildings. Even that had been disconcerting. But this?

  I wasn’t sure I’d recognize our childhood home if we drove straight up to it.

  Miles seemed to be reading my mind. “What do you think? First thing in the morning?”

  “I know I need some sleep,” Gate announced.

  “Me, too. I rubbed a hand over the back of my neck and marveled at how discombobulated I was due to the time change.

  It hadn’t been that way during the trip over—but that was different. Our ship, stronger than any at the time thanks to the enchantments place on it, took weeks to cross the ocean. I had completely lost track of time during the voyage, but I certainly hadn’t felt the same half-sick, half-exhausted sensation I suffered while racing over foreign roads in the back of a rental car.

  “Do you want to make it to the hotel alive?” Miles asked, leaning over the back of the seat in front of him.

  Gate ignored him, or pretended to.

  I closed my eyes and sank into my thoughts rather than monitoring our progress. It was easier and less nauseating.

  We would explore the countryside in the morning. Even half-dead with sluggishness, and still stiff as a board from being cramped up on that damned plane for so long—couldn’t we have sprung for first class?—I couldn’t help but feel a slight touch of excitement when I imagined going back to the cave.

  The first cave, the cave that had been my home from the time of my birth. And not just one, but a series of interconnected caverns and tunnels which allowed every branch of that massive original clan to live together while existing somewhat separately. Each branch of the family to itself.

  We’d lived together always, us guys and our parents and other siblings. Plus the extended family. I hardly remembered most of them anymore, not even the sisters who had made my life miserable the way only sisters could. Their faces were nothing but a dim memory for me. I didn’t even know if they were alive anymore—no matter the reason for our losing the heartbeat, if the clan had perished or what, I didn’t know if the rest of my family had managed to survive prior to that.

  “Do you ever think about them?” I queried, without opening my eyes.

  “Who?” Miles asked.

  But the way he settled back against the seat told me he knew exactly who I meant. It wasn’t like us to discuss our feelings or memories or anything that really mattered. But chances were, we’d have to start talking about things soon.

  “You know who.”

  “Honestly? I don’t. Not anymore. Is that wrong, do you think?”

  “I don’t know. It probably isn’t. It’s been a long, long time. We’ve had our own lives, apart from theirs, for a long time. Much longer than the amount of time we spent with them.”

  “I suppose.” He fell silent for a moment before saying, “What do you think we’ll find out?”

  “I’d rather not think too much about that,” Gate piped up from the front seat.

  “I’m in agreement. It’s better not to let our imaginations get away with us.”

  We already had. It made no difference if I warned us against it when we’d harbored opinions and concerns for weeks, ever since Pierce first noticed the absence of the heartbeat. How could any of us hope to keep our thoughts from running away after that? It could only mean one thing, probably: the death of the clan.

  Perhaps I was being a bit morbid.

  Who would do it? There were groups out in the world whose existence I never would’ve dreamt of. Like the group who’d blackmailed Carissa into delivering Cash’s blood by kidnapping Tommy. The poor boy had recovered well enough from the ordeal—he was resilient, for sure—but Carissa still woke up screaming at least once a week, reliving the nightmare of finding him gone.

  None of us had been aware of that group’s existence until that point. It was one thing to know our blood was potent, special, but another to find out there were others who were just as aware. And willing to stop at nothing to get their hands on it.

  Had our original clan fallen prey to them? Or a group like them? Or perhaps they’d been killed flat-out, simply for the fact that they existed? No matter how I warned myself against jumping to conclusions, it didn’t matter. I’d already jumped. I’d practically leaped.

  So had they. It didn’t matter how they denied it. We all had ideas about what we would find. No wonder none of us was in any hurry to get started. If the clan was gone, no more, there would be no reason to rush.

  And we might be walking straight into our very deaths.

  Chapter 3

  Fence

  “This is a hotel?”

  The three of us looked up at the long building which looked much more like a string of townhomes than the hotel we’d been promised.

  I turned my gaze to Gate, who scratched his head. “Are you sure you brought us to the right place?”

  “I followed the directions. If there’s a problem, take it up with Mary.” He was barely holding onto his temper.

  We were all worn a little thin.

  My dragon thrashed and raged in my head, demanding I take control of the situation. To hell with Mary’s instructions and my brother’s sense of direction.

  We should never have allowed anyone else to determine the plans for the trip.

  My dragon was irritated and roaring. I silently pushed back. Mary knows more about this than we do.

  He was tired, too. Sometimes, it was like struggling with a bratty child. A bratty child strong enough to crush a truck, with a thirty-foot wingspan.

  As we walked down the block, bags in hand, it became clear that we were in the right place when a doorman helped two guests into a waiting car, then turned his attention to us.

  “Staying with us, are you?” His thick brogue was thick enough to slice with a knife.

  “Aye,” I replied, slipping back into it without thinking.

  Gate chuckled, but I paid him no mind.

  The helpful doorman tipped his cap in greeting, and took two of our bags up the walkway and through the doors.

  Inside was a different story.

  I would never have imagined the sleek, coffee-colored walls, the clean, modern lines of the furniture and lighting fixtures. It fairly screamed masculinity, luxury, comfort. I could instantly understand why Mary had chosen to book us here.

  None of that mattered at the moment. I’d enjoy it later, after a long, deep sleep. I relished the chance to drop down on the wide, firm mattress. At least we’d each gotten a room of our own—one of the few points we were firm on. After each of us having our own space for so many centuries, it would have been torture to have to share.

  We were here. We had really done it.

  I gazed up at the ceiling with my hands behind my head, wondering if I should call home to confirm we’d made it. What time was it there? I slid the burner phone out of my jacket pocket and chose Smoke’s number from the list of contacts. We’d all gotten identical, pre-paid devices for the purposes of the trip.

  “Tell me you’re calling from the hotel,” Smoke ordered on answering.

  “I wonder why you don’t have more friends than you do.”

  “Perhaps because my circle of acquaintances is so small,” he chuckled. “You’re safe, then?”

  “Safe as can be. All of us in our rooms. It’s a nice place—very nice. Comfortable. I might never want to leave.”

  “Eh, you wouldn’t be missed, anyway.”

  “Thanks a lot. How are things there?”

  “The usual. Cash and Tommy roughhousing, th
e girls helping Carissa create more of the antidote. Me wishing I could get away with wearing earplugs when the three of them start giggling.”

  I grimaced in agreement. None of us were used to constant female companionship. It would take time to adjust.

  “We agreed to start out in the morning,” I reported.

  “Good enough. Keep me posted. And be safe out there,” he added, like a casual afterthought that was anything but casual or an afterthought.

  The potential gravity of what we were embarking on was lost on none of us.

  I dropped the phone beside me on the bed and fell asleep fully clothed, on top of the covers.

  My dreams were full of shadows, fog, questions. Faint memories of the way things used to be.

  Chapter 4

  Ciera

  “This has to be it.” I glanced down at the thick, heavy textbook I’d been lugging around in my backpack all day long, comparing the hundred-fifty-year-old photos to what I saw in front of me.

  I could’ve brought photocopies of the pictures, and I would have if, I hadn’t lost them. My shoulders and lower back would’ve cursed me out if they could’ve. I’d be spending the evening looking around the apothecary shops for a heating pad.

  None of that mattered when I confirmed that I was in the right place. My body hummed so hard with excitement, it was a wonder my hair wasn’t standing on end.

  I ran a self-conscious hand over the top of my head just to be sure it wasn’t.

  The same mountain, shaped like an arrowhead, with five pointed rocks arranged in a semi-circle, roughly a hundred yards in front of the carved opening at the base. Behind the mountain was a chain of smaller peaks, nearly hidden.

  I checked this against the grainy, black-and-white version of the same scene in my textbook. After a century-and-a-half, the rocks were a little rounder, the edges softer, thanks to the elements.

  Thick clusters of trees grew everywhere, which was part of the reason for the trouble I had in finding the location. Even though that arrowhead stood out against the dark clouds which had started to gather, way up above the treetops, it was nearly impossible to figure out the best way to get to the mountain.

  Just when I was sure I was on the right path, I’d find myself getting hopelessly turned around. Just my horrible sense of direction, right up there with clumsiness and a penchant for losing things.

  I’d been out here for hours—most of the day, in fact. I checked my phone with a sigh. Nearly four o’clock. No wonder I was exhausted, not to mention starving. Still, none of that mattered as much as finding the cave.

  “I knew it,” I whispered.

  The wind carried my words away. There was nobody here to hear them, anyway. Nobody but me. That was enough. I had always known I was right, that the ancient cave was real and that it would still exist somewhere.

  “Grandma, I knew it. You were right, too.” My heart ached, and I wished she was with me.

  All the stories were true.

  Saighead Uaine.

  Loosely translated as Green Arrow. Very green. Almost supernaturally so. Green enough to nearly hurt my eyes, but I couldn’t stop staring. I had imagined it so many times, over the course of so many late-night bedtime stories.

  Seanmhair, as my grandmother had taught me to call her, should’ve been a writer. She had a way of weaving a story that was even more skillful than the beautiful knitting and embroidery she used to work on while she spoke in her low, soothing voice, setting my imagination on fire. Stories about ancient clans and curses and enchantments. And dragons.

  So, this was how it felt, finally finding something after searching for years. Telling myself it existed. Refusing to listen to those who dismissed me and told me to focus my graduate research on something a little more concrete, a little less fairytale. I didn’t know if I wanted to laugh or cry or strip naked and dance in the center of the upright stones.

  The first splashes of raindrops, on the top of my head, made the decision for me. I looked up at the ominous clouds and caught a fat raindrop right in the eye for it.

  I had wanted to explore the inside of the cave, anyway. Looked like this was as good a time as any. I held the book tight to my chest, the way I’d hold a baby to protect it, and made a dash for the cave mouth. I managed to make it inside just before the rain started falling in sheets.

  It seemed like a good idea to lose the pack for a little while, and my shoulders nearly screamed in relief when I let the straps slide over them and down my arms.

  I pulled out a protein bar before sliding the textbook inside, and sat cross-legged on the cave floor while eating and drinking from one of my water bottles. It was so strange, actually being in here, where so much had happened, according to legend.

  You don’t really believe that, do you?

  Even my inner voice seemed to be on a quest to piss me off and remind me how naïve I could be. Legends weren’t real—otherwise, they’d be called reality. And there was no way of knowing how much was legend and how much was added on over centuries of retelling.

  I was certain the dragon aspect of the stories was embellishment. Or, hell, they could’ve been part of the original stories, since people believed in that sort of thing back then. Before science, before the printed word. A thousand years into the past. Dragons and fairies and such—they were how people explained natural phenomena back then.

  Though I wasn’t sure how a dragon could provide an explanation for anything. And there were multiple civilizations whose members had produced drawings and paintings of what could’ve been dragons, civilizations who’d never been in contact with each other. Before ocean travel even was a thing. The drawings had to come from somewhere, and I didn’t believe in group consciousness. Not when the group was spread out over hundreds of years and thousands of miles in what were basically the Dark Ages—and before.

  When I was finished eating, I stood up and wiped the dirt from the seat of my cargo pants. It was still raining, though that initial burst of violence had turned to a softer, gentler rain which seemed to swirl around in a cloud. The sort of rain I was more accustomed to seeing in that part of the world.

  I’d only lived here for four months while studying at the University of Edinburgh, but it already felt like home. Maybe because Seanmhair was the closest thing to home I’d ever experienced—while I was in her birthplace, it was like having her all around me. Like she was with me again.

  I shook my head, like that would be enough to remind me my grandmother was dead and would be dead no matter where I went or how many mystical caves I explored. No matter what I found on my travels through the highlands, it wouldn’t bring her back. I knew it in my head, in the part of me that had helped me graduate summa cum laude from Columbia before pursuing my Master’s in Edinburgh. I was a frigging intellectual, for God’s sake. I should’ve known better.

  But the mountain from the old stories was real. How was I supposed to give up all those flights of fancy, as Grandma used to call them, when there was proof of the truth of at least these notions right here—over my head, behind my back, all around me?

  She would’ve done it herself, if she could have. She’d always sworn up and down that she was happy in America. It was her home, and it was my home, and she was in charge of making sure I grew up well. She’d put on a happy face and promised me that it didn’t matter, that she wouldn’t want to go back to Scotland even if she could.

  But I knew better. I could read that burning love of her homeland in her eyes when she told me the legends she’d first heard as a little girl. I could hear it throbbing in her voice. I could just imagine her hiking for miles at a time, probably outpacing me, never tiring.

  I was doing it for her, just the way she would have. I couldn’t bring her with me, but I could at least fulfill her dreams.

  With that in mind, I pulled the big flashlight from my backpack before slinging it over my shoulders, and decided to go a little further into the cave. Not too far—I didn’t need to piss off any bears or bats or w
hatever. But wouldn’t it be cool to find some cave drawings or artifacts?

  I rolled my eyes at myself, but kept moving, anyway. Like there were thousand-year-old artifacts just waiting for Ciera Rivera to discover them. There was also a bridge in Brooklyn just waiting for me to buy it.

  I breathed deep through my nose as I took those first few tentative steps, paying attention to the scents in the air. I didn’t pick up anything that smelled like an animal. It gave me the courage to keep walking, even as the darkness grew deeper and more complete.

  Before I knew it, the light from outside the cave was almost completely gone. There was only me, the sound of my breathing, and the steady thumping of my heart.

  “What am I doing in here?” I whispered, then jumped when I heard my voice doubling, tripling back.

  I was way too keyed up. Being in there, knowing how many hundreds of years of life had passed while the mountain stood, it was all too much. I took a deep breath and chided myself before moving on.

  The tunnel widened.

  I ran the flashlight over the walls, then the ceiling. It was at least twenty feet over my head, maybe thirty, and there was a good twenty feet in all directions.

  I turned in a slow circle, the beam of the flashlight pointed straight in front of me.

  The walls were so smooth. That was what caught my attention first. Much smoother than they should’ve been, without a bump or jagged edge in sight. Same with the ceiling.

  “What is this place?”

  My voice didn’t echo that time. Something absorbed the sound. A chill ran up my spine and covered my arms in goosepimples.

  Wherever it was, I was alone. I could feel it just as clearly as I could’ve felt the presence of somebody—or something—else. At least that was what I told myself. It was the only thing that kept my knees from knocking together.

  What was going on? I went to the wall and ran my hand over the surface, then rapped against it with my knuckles.