Celtic Dragons

by Dee Bridgnorth

  But she was too large to escape the warehouse unless she returned to her human form, and her human form would be quickly burned alive in the wake of the explosion. Glancing upward, she briefly considered breaking through the top of the warehouse, but that was a tactic that took more time than she had. If the whole building burned down, even her dragon form couldn’t protect her from the damage it would do to her.

  She was trapped, and Xander was safe. It was wrong on every level, and she turned this way and that, keeping her strong, scaly back to the worst of the flames and protecting her underbelly with her wings.

  And then she realized the significance of the thought she’d just had. She was trapped and Xander was safe.

  Xander was safe.

  Her eyes moved to the trap door, and she flew toward it, the flames not as intense on that side of the building yet. She waited until she had reached the very edge of the door before she transitioned back into her human form, her human lungs immediately protesting the torrid, hot, smoky air that she had no choice but to suck into her lungs as her human feet hit the ground.

  With flames at her naked back, Siobhan yanked the door upward and descended down into the dark, cool space, letting the door slam shut behind her. She was safe from the flames, but there was no light anywhere and no way for to know where Xander was.

  She had never been more vulnerable.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Julian

  “Go faster,” Julian demanded, his hand gripping the arm of Ophelia’s car so hard that the entirety of his arm hurt—and that was the good arm. “Damn it, Ophelia, go faster. It’s been too long. She’s been there alone too long.”

  He had rushed out of the hospital the moment that the feed had quit, stopping only to pull on the fresh clothes that were waiting for him. Julian had pushed past protesting nurses, Ophelia following at his heels, pleading with him to reconsider. Assuring him that he would be of more use to Siobhan somewhere like the hospital, where he could focus on his visions.

  Visions were great, but he didn’t know how to control them, and they were no substitute for being there in person. And there were too many times when he didn’t know what they meant. The whole way, as Ophelia had driven in stony silence, he’d had flash after flash that didn’t make sense. Fire. Screaming. Triggers. Siobhan in her dragon form, unable to escape the metal cage around her. He didn’t know what any of it meant. She was supposed to be in the warehouse, confronting Xander. She had said that he would be easily manipulated through talk. That she was going to persuade him. If she’d had to, she would have shot him.

  How had that gone to explosive fire and trapped dragons?

  Or had it? What about the house image? Where was this house where she was supposed to be killed? Was she there instead? Did he have a guarantee that she wouldn’t die as long as she was at that house?

  “Your mind is exhausting me,” Ophelia muttered. “We are connected now, and everything you feel, I am feeling too. You don’t understand your gift.”

  “How am I supposed to understand it?” he snapped. “I’ve only known what it is for a few days, Ophelia. Are my visions always going to come true? Can you at least tell me that much?”

  “Of course not,” she said, scoffing. “Your visions are predictive at the moment. But any number of little things could alter how they play out and they could be utterly meaningless the next day.”

  He threw his hands up. “Then how do I trust them?”

  “You learn,” she insisted. “You learn.”

  “So the house that I saw—?”

  Ophelia shook her head. “You have changed it. I sense that you have changed the vision. We shouldn’t go to the house, Julian. She’s not there.”

  “I know she’s not there. She’s at the warehouse,” he said, wishing with all his heart that he was too. They were close—so close—but it would still be minutes before he could get to her. Minutes that she might not have. Minutes that might change his life forever and end hers.

  “You have to learn to understand your influence on the passage of time and the sequence of events,” Ophelia said, driving along the backroad that would take them to the address Siobhan had left him just in case. His shoulder was throbbing, but he hardly cared at all. Any pain he had to face was worth it. Ophelia continued on. “You have to understand the intricacy—”

  In the middle of her sentence, the sky ahead of them erupted with a flash of light followed by the dull roar of an explosion. His heart stopped, and for a moment, he saw inside the warehouse, flames erupting and licking up all of the wood and cardboard they could reach. He saw Siobhan, flying through the sky with a woman caught in her talons, and he saw Xander disappear into a door in the ground. And then his vision went blank, and he blinked, staring back out into the dark night, the flames just ahead of them.

  Ophelia had jerked the car to a stop, as shocked as he was, and Julian didn’t waste a second. He threw the door open, and he took off down the road at a sprinting pace, his many, many years of running serving him well as he topped out at a four-minute mile. It only took him two minutes to reach the front of the warehouse, blocked off by the fence that he knew was electric.

  He stared up at it, looked around for some other entrance into the complex, and then did what he had to do. It was only the top portion of the fence that was wired with an electric current, and he used both strong legs and his one good arm to climb his way up to the very top and then grab onto one of the stabilizing poles to swing himself over the dangerous wire.

  It was an awkward move, and it didn’t save him completely. He got a jolt in one of his legs and he scraped his good arm against the fencing, opening a large gash that made it impossible to hang onto the other side of the fence. In pain and dazed from the shock he’d gotten, he fell to the ground, took less than a second to compose himself, and then was on his feet, running toward the damaged building.

  There was no one around to notice what was happening. They’d already concluded that the warehouse wasn’t on the up-and-up, and so it was far out of the way and with no security around to record its questionable activities. It could easily burn to the ground before morning, and Siobhan might be burning with it.

  As he pulled open the warehouse doors, the metal burned his hands and the hot air that swept out at him made him begin to cough and hack, his lungs burning. He didn’t know how much of what he had seen was true, and if Siobhan really was in her dragon form or if Xander really was underground. He couldn’t stop to wonder either way, and he fought his way into the building, flames flickering and licking up the room around him. A flame leaped toward him, and the hair on his arm became singed. The left leg of his pants caught fire, and he yanked off his shirt, beating the flames out as he tried to see any sign of Siobhan.

  He called for her again and again. “Siobhan! Siobhan!” But he heard nothing back, and he knew that no person—including him—was going to be able to survive in the building for more than another few minutes. His eyes landed on the trap door that led to an underground space, and he acted on instinct. If she was still in the building, she had to be in there. Or it was too late. Or she had escaped. He didn’t know which, but he took a chance, running for the trap door, yanking it up, and lowering himself into the cool darkness.

  The relief of the cold, fresh air was immense, but Julian had no time to dwell on it. There was one light in the dark space—a single, controlled flame. He almost laughed in relief, rushing toward it. “Siobhan!”

  And then he remembered that it was Xander he had seen descend into the trap door and disappear safely. He stopped short, pulling back just as the flame moved directly below the balding man’s pudgy face. An eerie smile spread his thick lips, and Xander giggled.

  “Hello, there. Welcome to my favorite grave.”

  A chill passed over Julian, and he had to force his voice to stay steady. “Where is she?”

  Wordlessly, Xander cast the faint glow of the light over toward the left, and Julian caught just a glimpse of
Siobhan’s naked, lifeless body before the match flickered out with a puff of Xander’s breath.

  In his mind, he cried out to her. This isn’t how it’s supposed to end, Siobhan. This isn’t what I saw. You were supposed to be safe here—this isn’t the house where you died. I can’t let you die. I can’t live without you for the rest of my life. Don’t leave me.

  All that came out though was a hatred-laced curse. “Fuck you,” Julian said, almost growling the words. “People were cruel to you, so you’re going to take it out on people like her?”

  Xander giggled again. “Justice is and justice does and all’s happy when Brandon wins.”

  Julian didn’t know who Brandon was, and he didn’t care. The scratching sound of a match filled the silent, cool air, and then another flame burned, illuminating Xander’s face.

  “She’s not dead, you know,” Xander said, sing-songing his announcement. “Not yet. I want to study her. I want to own her.” His voice got dark and eerie. “I want to touch her. She turned into a dragon. A flying, fabulous dragon.” The flame went out, and he lit another, shining it on Siobhan. “I want to play games with her. She’s amazing.”

  There was an awe in his words that made Julian’s skin crawl. It wasn’t a normal kind of awe. It was an awe that made him imagine Xander dissecting Siobhan rather than cherishing her the way that he would for the rest of her life if they lived through this. All that really mattered though was that she wasn’t dead.

  Xander seemed indifferent to his presence for the moment, still entranced by Siobhan, and Julian crouched down to where he had seen her body, feeling around in the dark until he could touch her.

  “No!” Xander lashed out, moving toward them in the dark. “Don’t touch her. She’s mine. Get your hands off of my beautiful dragon girl. She doesn’t love you. I’m going to put her in a cage, and I’m going to watch her. Oh, I’ll watch her all the time, and then I’ll make her fly for me. I’ll make her carry me with her. I’ll stroke her scales, and I’ll pet her wings, and she’ll live with me forever.” Giggling erupted from him. “Forever!”

  The man was out of his mind, and he was never going to let Siobhan out of his sight willingly. Julian was not the trained fighter that Siobhan was, and he was injured, but he was the only person who could get them out of this place alive, and he wasn’t going to let Siobhan down.

  “Come look,” Julian whispered, forcing himself to speak to the man without screaming at him. “Look at what she’s doing now. It’s beautiful when she moves like this—she’s starting to wake up.”

  Xander sucked in a breath. “Move! Let me see her! She’s mine! Mine!” In his eagerness, Xander stumbled his way over, crouching beside Siobhan to drag her into his arms.

  He began to kiss her sloppily, and Julian shuddered in disgust. He also stood up, braced himself, and then brought the elbow of his torn-open arm down as hard as he could on the back of Xander’s neck.

  The blow was hard enough to snap the man’s head back, and Xander howled in pain, rearing back and clutching his head. Julian didn’t hesitate. He kicked the man in the stomach, doubling him over, then he brought his knee up under Xander’s chin and snapped his head back again.

  Xander mouth was bleeding, and he was growling with anger and starting to launch himself at Julian with his hands outstretched. Julian could hardly see anything, even though his eyes had adjusted somewhat to the darkness, but he took a risk, grabbing the man’s wrists and crossing them over each other. Then he shoved him as hard as he could backward, hearing more than seeing it when Xander smacked his head against the wall of the underground safe space and slumped to the ground.

  For a long moment, Julian held perfectly still, listening for any hint that the man was going to attack him again. When he heard nothing, he relaxed only marginally, knowing that there were still dangers all around them. Siobhan could be truly hurt, Xander could wake up and come at them again, and above them, the fire still raged and would for who knew how long.

  They weren’t safe, yet, but he was there, in the darkness with Siobhan, and he couldn’t help but sit beside her and pull her into his arms, kissing all over her beautiful face and rocking her close to his chest. It didn’t matter that the blood from his gashed arm was getting onto her skin or that her head was resting against his wounded shoulder, sending pulses of pain that vibrated all the way through him to his nerve endings.

  “Look at me, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Please? Open your eyes and look at me.”

  She didn’t, but when he rested his forehead against hers and closed his own eyes, he slipped right into a vision that was just them.

  She was in a white dress, and he was in a black suit, and they were standing on a beach, holding hands and smiling at each other. She was gorgeous, and the love in her eyes shone out at him, her words echoing what he already knew.

  “I love you, Julian. You’re a part of me and you always will be.

  “I love you too.” He leaned down and kissed her, drawing her against his chest and sliding his hand into her long hair. “I love you so much. I’m always going to come for you, no matter where you are.”

  The vision faded, and he was holding her in the darkness beneath the fire that burned above them, but she was breathing softly, relaxed against him, and he was as happy there with her in his arms as he had been in the vision.

  Something told him that vision was one that wouldn’t disappear because something unknown changed in the world. It was one that would always be.

  Chapter Forty

  Siobhan

  “It’s a nasty one,” Siobhan agreed, gingerly touching the back of her head where there was a large bump growing, born from the fall she had taken when Xander had reached out of the darkness, grabbed her leg, and tumbled her down the stairs into his underground lair. She only remembered falling and hitting her head, and then nothing until she had woken up in Julian’s arm, sure that she was in a dream because Julian wasn’t supposed to be there.

  He had come for her, and it was the most romantic thing she had ever heard of in her life. Siobhan was the kind of woman who could take care of herself, but the fact that Julian had broken out of the hospital, raced across the city, jumped an electric fence, run into a burning building, and fought off a man with murderous, obsessive intentions was more than enough to get him a lifetime of her devotion—not that he hadn’t already earned that.

  It was also going to get him a lot of sex the minute that they were back home and in bed together. It would have to be very careful sex, given how beat up they both were, but there was nothing that was going to stop her from showing her man just how incredible he was.

  The nurse overseeing Siobhan in the nursing room clucked her tongue. “It’s more than nasty. You have a concussion. You must.”

  “I must, then,” Siobhan said, unconcerned. Her singed skin and bumps and bruises would heal well enough. And across from her, Julian’s bumps and bruises were being seen to as well. His were a bit more serious, but the scar on his shoulder and the one that now dragged up his arm only made him that much sexier. He looked over her, tired and in pain, but smiling as their eyes met. She blew him a kiss, and he pretended to catch it, pressing to his lips.

  Chuckling, Siobhan shook her head meaningfully at him, pointing between his legs instead. He gave her a wolfish grin that only made her fall in love with him more. They were such different people, and yet so completely, totally perfect for each other.

  Moira poked her head around the curtain as the nurse left, and then walked in and gave Siobhan a hug. “Woman, you just cannot have a calm weekend, can you?”

  Siobhan smiled and hugged her back, patting her gently, like Moira was doing to her. “Come on, don’t make a scene.”

  “You deserve a scene after what you pulled tonight,” Moira told her, pulling back and placing her hands on her hips. “Why did you not call us? We were all on standby, waiting for you to say you had a lead and were following it. But you just went barreling in on your own.”

&
nbsp; It was true. She hadn’t followed procedure—at all. “It got personal with this one,” she admitted. “It was real. I’d faced him down already, and then he hurt someone I love. He issued a challenge to me, and I took it. Alone. I know it wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but, hey, I’m here, aren’t I?”

  Moira rolled her eyes. “Good argument. What argument will you make the next time you do that and you’re not here?”

  Siobhan shrugged a shoulder, touching the back of her head again. “I won’t make any, I guess. I just won’t be here.”

  “Hey,” Julian called from his own hospital bed. “I can hear you, you know. I disapprove—strongly.”

  She blew him another kiss. “As long as I have you to rush in and save me, I’ll be fine.”

  “Oh my God, you’re a sap,” Moira said, laughing. “I never thought I would see the day.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m in love; he’s the one; I’m going to marry him, etc.” Siobhan brushed all of that off, although her dismissiveness was just a cover for how deeply she felt her words. “Tell me you followed up on where they took Xander.” Siobhan had vague memories of the firefighters someone had finally called opening the crawl space and finding all three of them, Xander still groggy and out of it, and her and Julian holding each other close. But they had pulled her out of the hole and shoved her into an ambulance before she’d gotten to say anything at all about Xander.

  Moira nodded. “Yeah. Turns out that he was raving about seeing dragons. That convinced him he’s crazy.” She arched an eyebrow at Siobhan. “Well played?”

  “Ha,” Siobhan said. “I can’t claim strategy there, although—nice. That definitely works. A mental hospital is exactly where he needs to be, but one that actually watches him this time.” She rolled her eyes as she remembered Grayson’s total failure. When she was back on her feet full time again, she was going after that man—big time.