Patrick stepped from the shadows in a swath of camouflage, holding a semiautomatic. A startled jolt sped through her at the sight of the man and his gun. He ignored her upset and tipped his chin to her by way of introduction.
"He won't hurt you," Jason continued. "I'm going to have Patrick get you to our boat. It's loaded with medical supplies. I want you hooked to an IV ASAP."
"No," she said after a moment's thought. Alex might still be in the jungle, alone and hungry. He might need her; he'd always been there for her, through the years of their father's cancer, and she wanted to be there for him. "I'll stay with you and help you look for him."
"I'm afraid that's impossible."
"Why?"
"If you're hurt, or worse, it's my ass in a sling. Let Patrick take you to the boat," he cajoled. "It's docked on the river and not far from here, about an hour's hike."
"No. I'll go into town and-"
"You're two days from civilization. You'd never make it alone. And I'm not sending any of my men into town right now. I need them here."
"Then I'll stay here. I can help," she said stubbornly.
"To be honest, you'd be more of a hindrance. You're clearly near collapse, and we'd waste precious time having to carry you."
Though she didn't like it, she understood his logic. Without strength and energy, she would be a burden. Still, helplessness bombarded her because she desperately wanted to do something to aid her brother. Perhaps she'd question the man on the boat, the one who had spent time with him.
She gave Mitch and Jason a barely perceptible nod. "I'll go to the boat."
"Thank you," Jason said.
"We'll keep you apprised of our progress," Mitch added. "I promise."
"If you haven't found him in a day or two," she warned, "I'm coming back in here."
Jason lifted his shoulders in a casual shrug. "I'll give you a piece of advice, Grace. Go home when you've regained your strength. Alex may already be there, worried about you ."
Her back straightened, and she leveled him with a frown. "What do you mean?"
"There's a good chance he's already flown out of Brazil. Not only did his teammate mention that he'd followed another lead, he also mentioned that Alex bought a plane ticket three days ago."
"To where?" Confusion had her shaking her head. "And why are you still here?"
"We don't know and boss's orders," Mitch said, shifting on his feet. "This is the last place he was seen. We're to search until the office hears from him."
Home, she thought. Alex could very well be home. The concept was so welcome after everything she'd been through that she latched on to it with a vengeance. She turned to Patrick. "I'm ready. Take me to the boat."
CHAPTER 8
Once again seeing only black-and-white, Darius flattened his palms above his head, against the rocky cavern wall. He stared into the swirling mist. She'd escaped. Grace had actually escaped. Everything inside him urged him to vault into her world and hunt her down. Now . However, his reasons were not what they should have been. It was the beast inside him that craved her nearness-not the Guardian.
Teeth gnashing together, he remained in place. No matter his desires, entering the surface world was not an option. Not until he appointed a temporary Guardian. Darius uttered a brutal curse into the mist, hating that he must wait. Yet beneath his impatience was an undeniable pang of relief. Grace would live a while longer, and he would see her again, no matter where she went, no matter how far.
He dropped one of his hands and clasped his medallion from beneath his shirt. When he felt only one, he stilled. Frowning, he reached inside his pocket, encountering only the buttery soft glide of leather. His breath became as chilled and frosted as the mist, and dark fury pounded through him. Not only had Grace escaped him, and quite easily, too, but she had also stolen the Ra-Dracus. His hands fisted so tightly his bones threatened to grind to powder.
The woman had to be found. Soon.
With one last glance at the mist, he stole out of the doomed cave and up into the palace. Seven of his warriors were waiting for him in the dining hall.
They stood united, each of their arms crossed, each of their legs braced apart. The stance for war. In the center was Brand. His lips were thinned in displeasure, and his brow was stern. There was a mischievous gleam in his eyes that didn't quite match the rest of his expression.
"Do you have something to tell us, Darius?" his first in command said.
Darius paused midstep, then he, too, assumed a pre-battle position. His men had never waylaid him like this, and he cursed himself for allowing their game. "No," he said. "I have nothing to tell you."
"Well, I have something to tell you ," Zaeven growled.
Madox placed a warning hand on the young dragon's shoulder. "That tone will get you nothing but a beating."
Zaeven mashed his lips together in silence.
"I do not have time to play your silly game right now."
"Game?" Renard said, exasperated. "You think we're playing a game?"
"What else would you be doing here if not trying to win your wager? I told you to stay inside the practice arena for the rest of the day. That is where I expect you to be." Darius pivoted and strode toward the hallway.
"We know about the woman," Tagart called, stepping forward. A scowl marred the clean lines of his features.
Darius paused abruptly and spun to face them. He schooled his features to reveal only mild curiosity. "Which woman is that?" he asked with false casualness.
"You mean there is more than one?" Zaeven jumped in front of Tagart. His features lost their steely edge.
"Shut up," Brand told the boy. He refocused on Darius. His next words lashed out as sharply as a sword. "I'll ask you again. Do you have anything to tell us?"
"No." Darius's tone was absolute.
Tagart's scowl darkened with a flash of scales. "How is it fair that you are allowed to have a woman here and we are not?"
Brittan leaned against the far wall. He crossed his feet at the ankles and grinned with wry humor. The infuriating man found amusement in every situation. "I say we share the woman like the nice little fire lizards we are."
"There is no woman," Darius announced.
Their protests erupted immediately. "We saw her, Darius."
"Brand touched her."
"We even fought over who would have her first."
Silence. Thick, cold silence.
Very slowly, very evenly, Darius roamed his gaze over every man present. "What do you mean Brand touched her?"
The question elicited different reactions. Brittan chuckled. The younger dragons paled, and Madox and Renard shook their heads. Tagart stormed from the room, muttering, "I've had enough of this."
Brand-the gods curse him-rolled his eyes.
"You're missing the point," Brand said. "For years we have followed your orders and your rules without dispute. You said women were not allowed, and so we have always forgone pleasures of the flesh while residing in the palace. For us to discover that you have a whore hidden in your chambers for your own personal use makes a mockery of your rules."
"She is not a whore," he growled. Instead of offering an explanation, he repeated his previous question. "What did they mean you touched her?"
His friend pushed out an exasperated sigh and threw up his hands. "That's it? That's all you have to say?"
"Did you touch her?"
"She backed into a table, and I helped right her. Now will you concentrate?"
Darius relaxed… until Madox muttered, "Yes, but did you have to 'help' her for so long, Brand?"
With surprise his lips thinned.
With disbelief his jaw tightened.
With fury his nostrils heated with sparks of fire.
Darius recognized the emotions and did not even try to mute them. All three hammered through him, hot and hungry, nearly consuming him. He didn't want any man save himself touching Grace. Ever. He didn't stop to examine the absurdity of his possessiveness. He just knew
it was there. He didn't like it, but it was there all the same.
"Did you hurt her?" he demanded.
"No," Brand said, re-crossing his arms over his chest. "Of course not. I'm insulted that you even have to ask."
"You will not touch her again. Not any of you. Do you understand?" His piercing gaze circled the group.
Each man wore his own expression of shock during the ensuing silence. Then, as if a dam had broken, they hurdled rapid-fire questions at him.
"What is she to you? She wore your mark on her neck."
"Where is she?"
"What's her name?"
"How long has she been here?"
"When can we see her again?"
He ground his teem together.
"You have to tell us something," Madox snapped.
Or there will be a revolt , rang in the air unsaid.
Darius tilted his head to the left, felt me bones pop, men tilted his head to the right, felt the bones pop. Control. He needed control. "She only just arrived," he said, offering them a bit of information to pacify them. He liked and respected all of his men. They'd been together for over two hundred years, but right now they were nearly more than his precarious discipline could withstand. "She has already left."
Several moans of disappointment harmonized, from deep baritones, to the crackling timbres of the young.
"Can you bring her back?" Zaeven asked eagerly. "I liked her. I've never seen hair that color before."
"She will not be returning, no." A sharp pang of disappointment caught him off guard. He wanted to see her again-and he would-but he wasn't supposed to desire her here, in his home, lighting the room with her very presence. He wasn't supposed to look forward to their encounter, to sparring with her or touching her. Neither was he supposed to mourn her loss.
It isn't the woman herself he wanted, he assured himself. Merely her ability to regenerate his senses.
"There has to be a way we can bring her back," Zaeven said.
They didn't know that she was a traveler and must die, and he didn't tell them. They had never understood his oath, so how could he explain this most loathsome task of all?
"Brand," he barked. "I need to speak with you privately."
"We aren't finished with this conversation." A muscle ticked in Madox's temple. "You have not yet explained your actions."
"Nor will I. The woman was not my lover and was not here to see to my personal pleasure. That is all you need to know." He pivoted on his heel. "This way, Brand."
Without another word or even a backward glance to ensure his friend followed, Darius strode to his chambers. He sank stiffly onto the outer lounge and jerked his hands behind his head.
How had his life become so chaotic in only a few short hours? His men were near revolt. A woman had bested him-not once but twice. And though he'd had sufficient time, he had failed to do his duty. His hands curled into fists.
Now he had to leave all that he knew and travel to the surface.
He despised chaos, despised change, yet the moment he'd encountered Grace he'd all but welcomed both with open arms.
Brand stepped inside and stopped when he reached the edge of the bathing pool. Darius knew that if he could see colors right now, Brand's eyes would be a deep, dark gold filled with bafflement. "What is going on?" his friend asked. "You are acting so unlike yourself."
"I need your help."
"Then it is yours."
"I must journey to the surface and-"
"What!" Brand's exclamation rang in his ears, followed quickly by a heavy pause. "Please repeat what you just said. I'm sure I misheard."
"Your hearing is excellent. I must journey to the surface."
Brand frowned. "Leaving Atlantis is forbidden. You know the gods bound us to this place. If we leave, we weaken and die."
"I will not be gone more than a single day."
"And if that is too long?"
"I would go still. There has been a… slight complication. The woman was my prisoner. She escaped." The confession tasted foul in his mouth. "I must find her."
Brand absorbed that information and shook his head. "Do you mean you let her go?"
"No."
"Surely she did not escape on her own."
"Yes, she did." His jaw clenched.
"So you did not let her go?" Brand persisted, obviously stymied by the concept of his leader's failure. "She managed to outwit you?"
"How many ways would you have me say it? I locked her up, but she found a way out." Because she slipped the medallion from my neck when I was distracted by the feel of her body under mine , he silently added.
Slowly Brand grinned. "That is amazing. I'm willing to bet that woman is like a wild demon in bed and-" His words ground to a halt when he noticed Darius's thunderous glower. He cleared his throat. "Why did you have her locked away?"
"She is a traveler."
His grin faded, and his eyes lost all sparks of merriment. "She must die. Even a woman can lead an army to us."
"I know." Darius sighed.
Brand's tone became stark. "What do you need me to do?"
"Guard the mist while I am gone."
"But I am not truly a Guardian. The coldness of the cave will weaken me."
"Only temporarily." Darius sent his gaze to the domed ceiling. The seawater that encompassed their great city churned as fiercely as his need to see Grace. The temptress, the tormentor. The innocent, the guilty. Just what was she? Waves crashed turbulently against the crystal, swishing and swirling, driving away all sea life. Just as quickly as one wave appeared, another took its place, leaving a splattering of foam on each individual prism. Was this an omen, perhaps, of his coming days? Days of storms and turmoil?
He heaved another sigh. "What say you, Brand? Will you remain in the cave and destroy any human who passes through the portal, be they man or woman, adult or child?"
With only a brief hesitation, Brand nodded. "I will guard the mist while you are gone. You have my word of honor."
"Thank you." He trusted Brand completely with this task. Only a man who had lost loved ones to a traveler truly understood the importance of the Guardian. Brand would let no one through.
Brand inclined his head in acknowledgment. "What am I to tell the others?"
"The truth. Or nothing at all. That is up to you."
"Very well. I will leave you now so that you may prepare for your journey."
Darius nodded and wondered if there was any way to actually prepare himself for another encounter with Grace.
The messenger he sent to Javar's holding returned as the sounds of the day began to fade. Darius was submerged from the waist down in his bathing pool, gazing out at the breathtaking view of ocean beyond the window he'd bared only an hour ago. Its viewing had become a nightly ritual, granting him some measure of tranquility. He motioned for the young dragon to share his news.
Standing at the edge of the pool and shifting nervously from foot to foot, Grayley said, "I'm sorry, but I was unable to deliver your message. Does that," he gulped, "make you want to yell at me?"
Darius's eyes narrowed, and his hand stilled over the warmth of the water. "Did you purposefully act against my orders merely to win your game?"
"No, no," the boy rushed out, game forgotten. "I swear. The guards refused my entrance."
"Guards? What guards?"
"The guards who told me to leave. The guards who said I was not wanted there."
"And Javar?"
"Refused to speak with me, as well."
"Did he tell you this himself?"
"No. The guards informed me of his refusal."
Darius frowned. This made no sense. Why would Javar refuse a messenger entrance? That was their usual way of communication, and neither of them had ever refused the other. Besides, why would a dragon refuse another dragon?
"There is something else," the dragon said, hesitating. "The guards… they were wholly human and carried strange metal objects like weapons."
Strange metal o
bjects… He jolted to his feet, sloshing water over the rim of the pool, then stalked naked to his desk and withdrew a sheet of paper and writing ink. He gave both to Grayley. "Draw the weapon for me."
What the young warrior drew appeared larger than what Grace had carried, yet was roughly the same design. Darius absorbed that information, mulled it over, men came to a decision. "Gather my men in the dining hall. After that, I wish you to find the unit on patrol in the Outer City. Vorik is acting as leader. Tell him I want him and the others surrounding Javar's palace, unseen, detaining any who enter or leave."
"As you command." The young dragon bowed and rushed to do as he was bid.
Darius dried himself with the nearest robe before jerking on a pair of pants. What a mess this was becoming. He'd thought Javar alive, and had hoped his tutor had merely lost his medallion. Now that seemed implausible.
What were humans doing inside his tutor's palace? Humans. Plural. More than one. Perhaps an army. Frustrated, Darius shoved a hand through his hair. Grace's arrival was no coincidence. The answer lay with her and her brother. He was sure of it. Finding her, he realized, was no longer a luxury. Finding her was a necessity.
His warriors awaited him inside the dining hall. They sat at the table, silent, unsure of his intentions. He positioned himself at the head of the table. Before they could think to begin their game, he said, "You wanted something to do, and now I am giving it to you. I want you to prepare for war."
"War?" they all gasped, though there was an undercurrent of excitement in every voice.
"You are letting us declare war upon the vampires?" Madox asked.
"No. Humans have overtaken Javar's palace, and they carry strange weapons. I do not yet know if they have killed the dragons inside, nor do I know what they are planning. But I have sent Grayley to the Outer City where he is to inform Vorik's unit to surround the palace. Tomorrow's eve, you will join them."
"Tomorrow?" Madox pounded a fist into the table. "We should act today. Now. This instant. If there is a chance the dragons are alive, we must do what we can to save them."
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