What could it mean?
She didn’t know, but of one thing she was certain: it was something important.
She went down to the lower level—astonished by the stacks of fruit piled haphazardly throughout the tree house, the jumbled mounds of jewelry and pottery and trinkets adorning every flat surface—and shimmied down the rope that hung from the bottom floor to the ground below.
Then she stood waiting.
It didn’t take long until she saw them, approaching en masse from the opposite end of the colony. Led by a woman in black, the throng of people chattered in English and Portuguese and a language she didn’t know, mellifluous and sensual. They were an agitated bunch, except for that woman in front, and the man who walked beside her.
Jenna. Leander. They were headed her way.
By the time the group reached her, the ranks had considerably thinned. Many had ascended into the trees, while others had dropped back to form small groups, talking, and still others turned into massive black animals and disappeared into the forest. Jack got the distinct impression whatever had happened to cause such an outcry was still happening.
A group of perhaps two hundred surrounded her. Everyone except Jenna and Leander gave her a small, respectful bow, shocking her, and evidently Jenna and Leander as well, who shared a look. Unsure of the correct way to acknowledge such a thing, Jack simply nodded back, murmuring a confused, “Hello.”
Then the Queen said, “I can take you as far as the clear-cut near Moura, but you’ll have to walk into town from there. They have a small airport, so you should be able to make your way to Manaus and find an American consulate, but it’s too dangerous for me to fly any closer.”
“Fly?” Dear God, she didn’t mean . . . she couldn’t mean—
“It’s the fastest way to get you home. And it’s far too dangerous for you to stay here any longer. Are you ready?”
Jack said, “Please tell me you don’t expect me to fly on the back of a dragon.”
“Why not?”
“I could . . . I could fall, that’s why not! As in, to my death! And—a dragon? Seriously?”
The Queen was looking at her as if her concerns were ridiculous. “I’d catch you. Just hold onto my mane, you’ll be perfectly fine. Haven’t you ever ridden a horse?”
There were no words. Jack just stared at her, open-mouthed. Beside the Queen, a red-faced Leander had rolled his eyes heavenward and looked to be silently counting to ten.
“We’ll give you money, water, and a gun.” She nodded to a young man in the crowd, and Jack recognized him as the boy who’d helped her up when she’d fallen yesterday during the Queen’s impressive arrival. “In something she doesn’t have to use her hands to carry,” Jenna added to the boy. He nodded, turned, and dashed away. Turning back to Jack, Jenna said, “Hopefully you won’t need the gun, but I think safe is always better than sorry.”
Jack was having a problem with her tongue. It didn’t seem to be connected in any meaningful way to her brain.
“We’ll have to walk out to the arena. I need a bit more space than this for takeoff,” she said, looking thoughtfully at the trees.
“But . . . I’m . . . I can’t-this is insane!” Jack craned her neck, looking over the crowd.
The Queen gave her a sympathetic look. “He isn’t coming, Jacqueline,” she said, and everything inside Jack came to a stop.
She stared at the Queen in silence. After a moment, Jenna said, “Believe me when I say this is much harder for him than it is for you. It’s better this way. A goodbye will only drive the knife deeper.”
Jack didn’t know what to do, or say, or think. She desperately wanted to go home, but she was full to bursting with so many unanswered questions—for Jenna, for Morgan, but especially for Hawk. Everything was happening too fast. It was all too confusing, too strange, and to top it off, she couldn’t remember the last few weeks of her life . . . or much of the beginning of it.
Lost, she looked around at the gathered faces, the beautiful strangers she’d been told she once hated but for whom she now felt nothing but curiosity and awe and, okay, a little fear.
Jenna said, “It will all work out exactly how it’s meant to, I truly believe that. And sometimes . . . sometimes distance can give you more clarity than when you’re seeing things up close.”
Jenna seemed conflicted—it was as if there was so much more she wanted to say—but she left it at that. Then the young man returned, pushing his way to the front of the group with a small nylon backpack in his hands. Jenna murmured her thanks and held it out toward Jack.
She took it and stared down at it, filled with apprehension and a cold, painful lump in her chest she recognized as grief.
“Wait!”
The voice came from the tree. Everyone looked up, and there was Morgan, leaning over the porch railing of Hawk’s home. Branches filtered down light from above, haloing her head in a gossamer cloud. “Don’t forget this!”
She held out her arm and dropped a small bundle over the side.
It was caught, passed forward through the crowd, then held out. Jack took it. Lightweight, folded in a rectangle of blue fabric tied with a white ribbon, it fit easily inside the backpack, nestled between a bottle of water and the shiny metal barrel of a revolver. Seeing the gun gave Jack a small sense of relief; she remembered she knew how to shoot, at least.
Jack craned her neck, gazing upward, then held out a hand in farewell to Morgan. She returned the gesture, her face grave, and her words echoed in Jack’s mind, words spoken only yesterday, though they seemed a lifetime ago.
I’m sure under different circumstances we could have been good friends.
They looked at each other a moment longer, then Morgan stood up and disappeared.
“All right,” Jack said quietly, turning back to Jenna and Leander. “Let’s do it.”
The Queen nodded and walked forward. Seething with such a storm of emotions she could barely discern left from right, Jack fell into step beside her.
Neither one spoke again.
Riding a dragon turned out to be exactly nothing like riding a horse.
For starters, there was the issue of mounting.
There was no saddle or bridle or stirrups, nothing to clasp onto but miles of diamond-hard, slippery scales. The creature crouched low on its belly on the arena floor. After several awkward attempts, Jack resorted to grabbing a fistful of silky white mane, bracing a foot against the leathery joint of a wing where it met the body, and hauling herself up. The wing curved around her like a cloak, supporting her, until she was seated, straddled atop the beast, her calves gripping its ribs, both feet resting above its wings.
It radiated heat. The skin on her inner thighs smarted from it.
The dragon curved its neck and looked back at her with brilliant emerald eyes, a long, assessing look. Feeling reckless, Jack said, “Sure. Why the hell not?” and before she could say another word, the dragon jerked its head forward. She just had time to wrap her other hand in its mane before it launched into the sky.
That was the main difference between a horse and a dragon. Horses didn’t fly.
The dragon took to the heavens—circling once so Jack saw the gathered figures below growing smaller, faces upturned to the sky—and exhilaration, hot and vivid as sunlight, flooded her.
The air was warm and humid, redolent with the sweet perfume of flowers, heavy with clouds. The dragon sliced through them as neatly as a scythe. She climbed higher, breaking free of the clouds, then tipped to the left, following an updraft of heated wind. The earth below peeked through in patches of glistening emerald through the fluffy cloudscape. The horizon was aflame with the rising sun, bleeding scarlet into infinity.
Jack wanted to cry at the beauty of it. Instead she laughed, and screamed with exhilaration. The dragon turned back to look at her—grinning, its muzzle and lash
es beaded with moisture—then surged forward with a powerful thrust of its wings and climbed higher still, until the air was so thin it was hard to breathe.
Her hair snapping out behind her, the morning sun blinding her eyes, the wind a deafening roar in her ears, Jack thought, If I die at this moment, I’ll die happy.
But she didn’t die. The white dragon flew steady and straight, leading them farther and farther from the colony, careful not to let Jack tip from its back.
Jenna slowed and banked right, maneuvering carefully through the narrow break in the upper canopy. She was much better at taking off than landing, so she approached the small square of cleared forest where a large tree had fallen, taking out several other trees, with apprehension.
One wrong move and she and her passenger would both be in a world of hurt.
Luckily, her fears turned out to be unfounded, and soon she and Jacqueline were safely aground. Jacqueline slid off her back, landing on her feet with a huff, and Jenna Shifted back to woman. Without further ado, she began walking south through the small clearing, headed for the abrupt end to the forest several hundred yards ahead.
Jacqueline followed silently. After several minutes of walking, she said wryly, “Too bad you couldn’t manage to keep some clothes on during all these costume changes of yours.”
Jenna smiled. Costume changes. She’d never heard the Shift described quite like that. “Sorry. After a while you get used to going around naked.” She stopped and looked back at Jacqueline. “Why don’t you go ahead? Just keep going straight. That way you won’t have to stare at my . . .” she jerked a thumb toward her rear end.
This suggestion was met with a grateful smile. Jacqueline went ahead, and Jenna followed.
Finally they stood on the edge of the forest, looking out.
The clear-cut was exactly that: a total absence of trees, vegetation, or even a single leaf. Emerging from the lush, moist dimness of the forest was a harsh assault on the senses.
In pursuit of such prized, exotic woods as mahogany, teak, and rosewood, loggers had brutally razed this section of the rainforest in an enormous, perfect square. Shorn trunks stuck up like brown stubble for as far as she could see. It was as dead and silent as a graveyard, an ugly scar on the land.
Jenna pointed. “Go straight toward that hill, you see it? On the other side is a small road that leads to a highway, and if you follow that, it’ll take you into town. From there you can hire a car to take you to the airport. You probably won’t need a passport or ID—there’s enough money in your pack to bribe a local pilot three times over—but a commercial flight’s a different story. Once you get to Manaus you’ll have to find a government office and declare yourself. An American embassy would be best. If there is one.”
When she finished, Jacqueline was studying her face. She said, “What are you?”
“I’m a woman. Just like you.”
This statement was met with a short, disbelieving laugh. “You’re nothing like me.”
Jenna answered softly, “You’re wrong. I’m exactly like you. In all the ways that matter, we’re exactly the same.”
Jacqueline swallowed, turning away. In profile she was stern and remote, her hair a vivid flame atop her head. Jenna touched her arm. Jacqueline met her gaze head-on, unflinching, the confusion clear in her eyes.
“Everyone has Gifts, not only my kind. In fact, you have one of the most powerful Gifts I’ve ever seen.”
Jacqueline waited, silently watching her.
“You have the ability to shape people’s thoughts with your words. What you write, the way you communicate ideas so they make sense, gives you the ability to change people’s minds. To open their eyes to a different way of thinking.” She shrugged. “So I can change my form. So can a caterpillar, or a seed. But you . . . you can change the world.”
They stared at each other. After a while, Jacqueline said, “If I had a choice, I’d take the dragon.”
They stood there awkwardly another moment longer until Jenna said, “I’m sorry about all this.”
Jacqueline sent her a small, melancholy smile. “Well, life is funny that way. One day you’re riding the subway in New York City, the next you’re waking up in the jungle with a man you’ve never seen before in your life, and the one after that you’re riding around on the back of a dragon. If nothing else, it’ll make for a good story.”
“Yes,” said Jenna. “I imagine it will.”
They both knew Jacqueline would have to tell her story, what would be waiting for her upon her return to her old life. Jacqueline looked at Jenna, not quite sure how to respond, so Jenna said, “Just tell them the truth. Whatever you remember. I know you’ll be fair.”
Jacqueline shook her head, frowning at her. “I don’t understand. I was told I was brought here to observe you in hopes of gaining a better understanding of your kind because I hated you, and spread it around like a bad case of the flu. Why are you being so nice to me? Why not roast me like you did with that other guy? This doesn’t make sense.”
Hawk had told Jenna that he changed Jacqueline, that they’d changed each other, and even though Jacqueline couldn’t remember what had happened between them, Jenna knew the heart had a funny way of remembering what the mind pushed aside.
Love can’t lie. There was still hope.
“For one thing, that other guy deserved it. You don’t. And like you said, life is funny. You never know how things will turn out.”
Now Jacqueline looked angry. “What does that mean?”
Jenna began to slowly back away into the trees. “It means it was my pleasure to meet you, Jacqueline Dolan. I wish you the best. Maybe someday we’ll meet again. Goodbye.”
Without another word, Jenna Shifted to Vapor and drifted upward into the trees, a soft coil of mist floating higher and higher among the branches, until Jacqueline was a small shape far below.
Jack stood looking up for long moments, searching the canopy, silent. After a while she sighed, adjusted the backpack on her shoulders, and turned and walked out of the forest.
She didn’t look back.
With all his heart, Hawk wished he could Shift to Vapor.
As Vapor, emotions were quelled. There was no pounding heart, no rushing blood, no sickness in the pit of his stomach. There was only lovely and calming mist, total tranquility. Peace.
But he’d been injured by Alejandro’s claws, and peace was out of his reach.
He’d watched Jenna and Jacqueline take to the skies from the cover of the trees, away from the colony because he couldn’t bear to speak to anyone. Not now. Maybe not ever. And as the two of them shrank to nothing but a brilliant spot of white on the distant horizon, Hawk wondered if this was what hell felt like. The pain was so intense he thought his heart might actually explode inside his chest.
It didn’t. Unlucky for him, it didn’t.
Blind, deaf, mute, he made his way back through the forest to his home. He climbed the rope, the wound in his shoulder breaking open again, leaking blood down his chest. Then he lay down on his back in his bed, pulled the pillow over his face, smelled the lingering, lovely scent of jasmine and honey that was Jacqueline, and, for the first time in his entire life, wept.
When Hawk could bear the weight of the empty rooms no longer, he went to the forest and started walking with no direction in mind, unsure if he’d ever turn back.
By the time Jenna made it back to the colony, the sun was high overhead, but the cloud cover below her had thickened to the point of visual impenetrability. She was in dragon form again, and again was exhausted, having only slept one night since her journey from Morocco.
She began her descent, angling sharply toward the clouds, and that was when she felt it.
Correction: him. She felt him.
As unmistakable as a slap across the face, the energy Caesar exuded was curdled and violent, the same crackling cur
rent that had set her nerves on edge when she’d first seen him standing on that crenellated turret at the kasbah outside Marrakech.
No!
She went to Vapor, funneled herself into a narrow channel of wind, and shot down through the cloud cover, punching through to the other side just in time to feel the first pinpricks of rain slice through her.
Rain was good. Rain would dampen her scent, muffle her energy.
She slowed her speed and edged toward the colony, trying to appear as just one more wisp of misted air steaming above the treetops. She didn’t take the time to wonder at his motives or his appearance here, when he was supposed to be on the other side of the world, because her thoughts had winnowed to three words, shrieking like banshees inside her skull.
Leander. The children.
If any of them were hurt, Jenna would rain down hell of such biblical proportion Caesar would be wishing for all eternity that he’d been Gifted with anything other than immortality.
It had been almost too easy. Hell, it had been too easy. Where was the security? Where were the lookouts?
Most important, where was the Queen?
Their tracker, Badr, had brought them right to the edge of the colony without incident, and Caesar was actually quite disappointed he hadn’t been able to use the Firestarter yet to scare away any potential assailants. He’d been looking forward to seeing a few roasted kitties, but it was probably for the best; this was supposed to be a covert operation, and giant balls of fire were anything but covert.
His plan was simply this: get in, kill the Queen, let Weymouth handle the logistics from there. He didn’t care how many members of this godforsaken jungle colony wanted to join him . . . he only cared about gutting that spying bitch with his own hands. The rest was gravy.
With the help of the GPS, they’d found the locale from where Weymouth’s call had originated. Judging by the size of the structure in relation to the other dwellings suspended through the trees, it was clear they’d come to the home of the Queen, or at the very least the Alpha of this colony who, if properly motivated, could point them in the Queen’s direction. But it was eerily quiet, the forest deserted, and Caesar sensed the Queen wasn’t there.
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