Serpent's Kiss: A Dragonfire Novel

by Deborah Cooke

  JP. It was JP.

  And it wasn’t all bad for there to be one less Slayer in the world.

  The sight of JP brought it all back. He remembered the serpent biting him. He remembered being collected by Chen and being powerless to do anything about it. He remembered being trapped in this spiral, drugged and pricked, over and over again. He remembered the chill of the Elixir sliding into his body, filling his mind with shadows, even as his hatred of the Pyr and his father was fed to new fury. He remembered Chen’s smile when the old Slayer chose to release him, as well as the conviction that he wasn’t going to survive long.

  But he had.

  Because of the firestorm.

  He and Chandra were going to get out of this.

  Chen was dozing in front of him in his dragon form, breathing dragonsmoke steadily as his eyes glittered. The torches on the walls of the cave had burned low, their flames mere embers of light. Thorolf remembered that their flames were indicative of Chen’s mood, so he guessed the old Slayer was partly asleep.

  He didn’t move, not wanting to awaken Chen before he fully assessed the situation. There was a cage on the far side of the cave, one with a woman sitting in it. She had her head bowed, her hands and her feet pressed together, and was the source of the firestorm’s light.

  Chandra.

  Relief flooded through Thorolf that she wasn’t dead.

  There was something in his mouth and he surreptitiously had a look. It was the head of one of her arrows, and he guessed that she’d given it to him for a reason. In his dragon form, it was easy enough to swallow it.

  When he did so, she glanced up and smiled, her look of approval sending a surge of heat through him.

  “She can watch your final transformation,” Chen said, and Thorolf turned to find that the old Slayer was in his female form. Thorolf thought this was Chen’s creepiest form, and not just because he’d tried to seduce Thorolf once in it. She was wearing those incredibly high heels again and that tight Chinese dress that made her look curvy and hot. Her lips were red, her hair twisted up, and her gaze unblinking. She carried a hypodermic syringe and was walking toward him, carefully stepping over the lines of the spiral burned into the ground.

  “It was almost done,” Chen said. “So very close. But then you carelessly lost a scale, leaving a gap in the new armor I’d so carefully made for you.”

  Thorolf’s hand rose to his chest and he felt a gap in his dragon scales.

  “We’ll just fill that in,” Chen said. “And finish the job for once and for all.”

  Chandra got to her feet. It wasn’t her nature to shout for Chen to stop, but she was watching avidly and poised to fight. Thorolf wished he could have broken her out of that cage.

  He thought of the dream he’d just had and wondered if she’d given him that.

  Was Chen the source of all evil? He was certainly a good candidate. Thorolf eased back, tentatively trying to shift shape.

  He couldn’t do it.

  He couldn’t breathe fire and he hurt from head to talon. He couldn’t breathe dragonsmoke either. Chen smiled, clearly aware of his efforts, and Thorolf knew he’d been incapacitated.

  “Some fight,” he scoffed, resorting to taunts. “You can only defeat me when you’ve taken away all of my powers.”

  “Not true,” Chen said. “I’m far stronger than you know.”

  Thorolf laughed. “I can tell.” He lowered his head, dropping his chin to the ground in front of Chen’s female form. “Is that what the spiral does? Take away my powers?”

  “I don’t have to explain anything to you.”

  “Why not?” Thorolf taunted. “Afraid that if you explain how clever you are I’ll be able to defeat you?” He mocked the Slayer, knowing it would annoy him. “That’s confidence. It must be easier to escape this than I’d realized.” He looked around, caught Chandra’s smile and winked at her.

  “You don’t have a chance,” Chen insisted. “Everything is prepared. Everything is perfect. I will conquer you and possess the element of air, and become the last and final of the legendary dragon kings.”

  There was a shimmer of blue light. Thorolf caught a glimpse of a yellow salamander, which disappeared as quickly as it had manifested.

  Jorge.

  He had vanished already.

  But to Thorolf’s astonishment, Lorenzo stood between him and Chen in his human form. The flames in the torches around the perimeter of the cavern leapt high, just as he’d heard they did during Lorenzo’s stage show, and Chen glanced around in surprise.

  “But you have just a little bit of doubt,” Lorenzo said, his voice pitched low enough to beguile. His back was to Thorolf, but Thorolf recognized the melodic cadence of his words.

  “How did you get here?” Chen demanded, scanning the lair with concern. The woman took a deep breath, and even Thorolf could sense that Chen wasn’t doing well with this interruption.

  Could Lorenzo beguile Chen? Thorolf hadn’t imagined it could be done, but if it was possible, Lorenzo was the Pyr to call. He stood in front of Thorolf, his stance completely confident.

  “Thorolf has escaped you before, after all,” Lorenzo said in that same beguiling voice, then strolled toward Chen. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten Niall’s firestorm? I wasn’t there, but I heard all about it…”

  Rage lit Chen’s eyes and Thorolf knew the fight was on.

  * * *

  Lorenzo felt Chen’s disgust and his dismay.

  He saw the old Slayer hesitate.

  Lorenzo didn’t trust Jorge, but he trusted Chen less.

  The trick was to get this done and then—somehow—get out of here alive. He was hoping that Thorolf’s mate would help with that, but now that Jorge had abandoned him here, he had to wonder if a double Pyr sacrifice had been Jorge’s plan all along.

  Either way, he wouldn’t let the Pyr down.

  He wouldn’t prove Erik’s doubts right.

  He wouldn’t abandon Cassie.

  Lorenzo walked toward the old Slayer, deliberately keeping his heart rate steady and slow. He felt as if his entire career had been training for this moment and knew that if Chen caught one whiff of his uncertainty, that doubt would be used against him.

  Just as he intended to use Chen’s against him.

  “Thorolf always escapes you,” he said, letting the flames burn bright in his eyes. Chen took a step back, his wariness considerable. “Thorolf always gets away.”

  “Thorolf has been evasive,” Chen admitted, clearly fighting the lure of the spell.

  Lorenzo worked the flames harder and deliberately used Chen’s own words. “Thorolf has been evasive,” he said. Chen caught his breath, looked left and right, then glanced at Lorenzo’s eyes. For a heartbeat, he thought he had him snared, then Chen tore his gaze away.

  He took another step back in those heels.

  The syringe dropped to his side.

  Lorenzo followed, keeping the distance between them to about six feet.

  “Thorolf has been evasive,” he repeated.

  “Thorolf has been evasive,” Chen said quietly. “Because he’s defiant!”

  “Because he’s a champion,” Lorenzo suggested. Chen inhaled sharply and he knew he had it right. “That’s why you want him, isn’t it? Because he’s the key to the puzzle.”

  “Key,” Chen whispered.

  “Or the key to the spell?”

  The old Slayer’s gaze flicked.

  “He’s the element of air,” Lorenzo said and Chen hissed. “He holds an affinity to the last element you need.”

  “The last element,” Chen agreed, his manner hostile.

  “But he keeps getting away,” Lorenzo said, struggling to hold the attention of the old Slayer. “He evades you. He escapes you.”

  “He escapes me.”

  “Maybe he’s not meant to be captured,” Lorenzo suggested softly. “Maybe you’re not meant to win.”

  Chen shifted shape with a roar, becoming a massive red dragon. Lorenzo shifted in the
same moment, taking his own golden dragon form. They both leapt into the air and leapt for each other, locking talons in the traditional manner. Lorenzo bared his teeth to breathe fire, but Chen spun hard. He swung Lorenzo through a dragonsmoke barrier that must have taken centuries to create and the pain nearly finished Lorenzo.

  Then it made him mad.

  He roared and spewed dragonfire across the floor of the cavern. To his pleasure, what looked like an impetuous response burned away half of the spiral that was holding Thorolf captive. He could almost feel the other Pyr recover his strength.

  Before Chen could notice and interfere, Lorenzo spun, turning the flames in his eyes to infernos, and seized the Slayer fast. He slammed Chen hard into the roof of the cave and held him captive to his gaze. “You old serpent,” he said in his best beguiling voice. “You’ll never triumph.”

  “Never triumph,” Chen echoed, some of the fight slipping from his body.

  Lorenzo didn’t trust him one bit. “Thorolf will never be conquered,” he said, wondering all the while if it were true. The other Pyr looked terrible.

  He had one measure of doubt, and it was all Chen needed. The old Slayer came to sudden life in his claws, seizing Lorenzo and slamming him into the cavern walls. They fought hard and fast, holding nothing back, until Chen bit Lorenzo’s shoulder. He felt the blood flow and made the mistake of glancing up. He saw the flames in Chen’s eyes and tried to look away, but didn’t do it fast enough.

  “He’s all mine,” Chen whispered, his own beguiling voice no slouch. “And you’re next.”

  “Next,” Lorenzo echoed, then Chen chucked him down into the spiral occupied by the dead dragon. It was JP, Lorenzo noted dully as his body hit the floor. He didn’t move but laid there as if finished, not wanting Chen to guess that the fight was far from over.

  Lorenzo just needed another plan.

  He caught a glimmer of darkfire from the corner of his eye and bit back his smile.

  * * *

  Chandra watched Chen shift shape again, once more becoming the young man she’d fought on the mountain. He picked up the syringe he’d dropped, his gesture savage, then marched toward Thorolf with purpose.

  Thorolf looked weak, his scales dark and his movements sluggish. He moaned quietly, as if he was nearly finished. She’d had hopes with the arrival of the other Pyr, but he looked as if he were down for good, as well.

  To her dismay, she watched Chen push Thorolf backward. Even in his dragon form, Thorolf fell bonelessly, like a puppy nudged to his back for a tummy rub. She saw the glimmer of blue between his eyelids, though, and dared to hope he wasn’t really out cold. Chen surveyed Thorolf’s chest, clearly spotted the empty space where a scale was missing, and raised the syringe.

  “A hundred little injections,” he said with satisfaction. “The last bit of Slayer blood to make you mine.”

  Slayer blood. Chandra understood then why the other dragon had been sacrificed.

  Then she remembered why the Pyr lost their scales. They became vulnerable when they fell in love. Thorolf had lost his scale after meeting her, which made her heart flutter in a very strange way.

  She pressed her palms together, summoning every last increment of her magic, and commanded that sliver of arrow head to move. She envisioned it diving into Chen’s gut, severing veins, sliding into organs, becoming septic and killing him slowly. She imagined it actively moving, and when Chen cried out in pain, she knew her powers as a goddess weren’t gone yet.

  She’d use every last bit of them for her Pyr, and not regret the loss.

  “You!” Chen cried, pivoting to face her.

  “Me,” Chandra agreed, getting to her feet. “I’ll finish you yet.”

  “Too late,” Chen declared with a smile. “I’ll claim him first and be invincible.” He turned back to Thorolf, the syringe held high.

  But Thorolf wasn’t waiting passively to be injected anymore. He was on his feet, his eyes blazing as he bared his teeth to breathe fire. Chen shimmered on the cusp of shifting, but Thorolf smacked him hard with his tail. The blow sent Chen flying to the ground.

  The syringe jumped from his grasp, fell to the cavern floor with a rattle, and rolled to a halt. Chen sprang after it in his dragon form, but Thorolf was there first. He smashed the syringe and the dark contents disappeared into the rock by the time he turned to fight Chen.

  They didn’t bother to lock claws but fought immediately. Chandra watched Thorolf bite into Chen’s wing and swing the Slayer around. His black blood fell sizzling to the cavern floor, even as the flames leapt higher in sympathy.

  Chen roared and fell on Thorolf, tearing into his shoulder. To Chandra’s relief, Thorolf’s blood was burgundy not black. She’d done that by caressing him. Thorolf rammed Chen into the wall hard enough to make the roof of the cavern crack.

  At the same time, that strange egg-shaped stone began to rock on its end. Chen was immediately distracted by its movement, which gave Thorolf a chance to strike him and tear one of his horns. There was a glimmer of blue-green light, again coming from beneath the stone, then it cracked like an egg.

  “No!” Chen cried and threw himself toward the stone.

  The rock split in half vertically, the two pieces of stone falling away to reveal a pale and weakened dragon trapped within it. He looked up with dazed eyes and shook at the sight of Chen’s approach. He was faintly gold, as if his color had faded, and he looked so insubstantial that he might have been a ghost.

  Without moving the rest of his body, he reached down behind himself to grab something with one claw from beneath the stone. Chandra realized that Chen couldn’t see the move, and she wondered what the dragon had taken. He looked just as vulnerable as before, even fearful as Chen launched himself at the weaker dragon.

  “I should have killed you centuries ago,” he spat, and lifted a claw to slash at the smaller dragon. “I shouldn’t have been sentimental.”

  The other dragon quaked and cowered, as Chen moved to strike.

  But the smaller dragon’s hidden claw plunged suddenly upward, driving something deep into Chen’s gut so hard that black blood spurted all over the pale dragon. A thirst for vengeance shone in his eyes, and he didn’t stop until Chen staggered backward.

  A blue-green light pulsed from beneath Chen’s scales then.

  “The last darkfire crystal,” he whispered, his disbelief clear.

  “Half of it,” the smaller dragon said, driving a second missile into Chen’s eye.

  Chen fell back with a scream of pain, his black blood spewing from both wounds.

  The released dragon spread his wings and from his joyous expression, Chandra was sure it was the first time he’d been able to do so in a long while. He looked bigger then, and more powerful, the color already returning to his scales.

  “You could never bear that Father chose his younger son over you,” he said, his voice louder than she’d expected. “Your pride blinded you to the fact that he knew you weren’t worthy.”

  “That’s a lie!” Chen cried. He reached for the dragon who was evidently his brother, but the pale dragon vanished in a glimmer of blue-green light.

  “No!” Chen shouted, but even Chandra could taste his despair.

  There was a rumble and the crack overhead widened dangerously, chunks of rock beginning to fall into the cavern. Just how far beneath the mountains were they? Chandra shook the bars of her prison, fearing they wouldn’t survive. The floor opened into a massive fissure where Chen’s blood had fallen, as if the mountain had disintegrated beneath it. The crevasse gaped wide, even as Pyr and Slayer filled the space with fire and smoke.

  Chandra fell off her feet when Thorolf’s tail swept her cage from the floor and cast it into the spiral with Lorenzo. Lorenzo might not have all of his Pyr powers but he was still a strong dragon. The other Pyr ripped open the bars so that she could escape, then cast her through the air. Thorolf caught her with a grin and she saw his scales brighten at the contact. He passed her to his back, and once again, she
held on between his wings.

  Chen breathed fire, fighting to the last. Thorolf ducked the flames, then drove his head into the Slayer’s belly. They fell to the ground in a tangle of talons and tails, then Thorolf bit Chen in the chest. The Slayer moaned and writhed, even as Thorolf spit out the chunk. He ripped the Slayer open, but Chen continued to fight even as his black blood ran. Thorolf decked him, then locked his claws around Chen’s neck, choking the life out of him. Chen struggled, then he flailed.

  “You lose,” Thorolf said, his voice pitched low to beguile. “You lose.”

  “You lose,” Lorenzo agreed, from his captivity inside Chen’s spiral. “Thorolf always escapes.”

  Chen cried out in anguish. He fought the pair, but his struggles became weaker. He tried to snatch at Thorolf, but his claws simply slid over the Pyr’s hide. He tried to smear his blood into the gap in Thorolf’s armor, but he never managed it. He struggled to breathe dragonsmoke, but he didn’t have enough air left to do it. He weakened and faded, looking less vital with every passing second.

  “Thorolf always escapes,” he managed to whisper, and Chandra realized the other Pyr’s beguiling had found a conviction to exploit.

  There was a shimmer of blue light, one that set the falling stone alight, then a topaz yellow dragon appeared in the space. Unless there were two who were very similar, it was the Slayer who’d appeared outside the Garden of the Hesperides.

  Chen gasped at the sight of him.

  The yellow dragon smiled. “Well done,” he said to Lorenzo. “Not exactly as planned, but effective enough.” He landed beside Chen and dipped a talon into the Slayer’s guts. He sucked the black blood from it with satisfaction. “They say revenge is a dish best served cold, but I like mine still warm.”

  “No!” Chen moaned, but it was too late to change his fate.

  Jorge bent and bit into Chen’s guts with satisfaction, his move making Chen groan in pain.

  “We made a deal,” the golden Pyr said with a certain edge.

  The yellow Slayer laughed, looking up with black blood dripping from his teeth. “Your mistake,” he said, then there was an ominous rumble of stone moving.

  The three of them looked up as the ceiling of Chen’s cavern cracked and chunks of stone fell all around them. The fissure in the floor yawned wide and Chandra feared the worst.