He turned quickly, far quicker than she would have thought possible, and caught her in his arms, pulling her against him. He was so strong, so powerful, she couldn't have broken free if she tried—and she didn't want to try. "You have a dirty mouth," he said, and then crushed her lips against his.
When he finally stopped kissing her, she sighed, sitting in his lap now, her arm around his neck, her cheek against his shoulder. "You're a pretty good kisser for an old dude."
He snorted, laughing with his eyes. "You make me feel like I'm seventeen."
"Okay," she said, inhaling deeply and pulling away from him, standing up and pulling on the robe the elf woman had left for her last night and tying the belt around her waist. "We need to change the subject before I jump your bones again—and there are things we have to talk about."
He sat up, drawing the sheet over his waist, and nodded. "Ask."
She sat cross-legged facing him at the end of the bed. If she wasn't touching him or kissing him, maybe she could keep her mind on the matter at hand. "Tell me about that bunker under the mountain. Tell me about your master and his Black Pool. And tell me about the god-damned Awakening."
He grimaced, a shudder coursing through him. "You've earned the right."
"You knew about the Awakening, didn't you? You knew it was coming?"
"Yes."
Such a simple word, so easy to say yet so powerful. "You knew the dragons would break the world, that all those people, billions of people, were going to die?"
"Yes, but not just me. There were others that knew. And it was the only way to save anyone. I hated it as much as you do, but it was necessary."
"The U.S. government knew as well, didn't they?"
He opened his mouth, then closed it again, his face reflecting his uncertainty. "It was more ... complex than that. Some knew, but not everything, only pieces. And even fewer knew that the Awakening was coming, knew what would follow when my master and the other great dragons broke the Fey Sleep, awakening humanity to the magic the Fey had hidden from them."
"Project Grendel?"
"The existence of my master and the other dragons. Long before A-Day, the great dragons saw the end of the world coming. I told you before that dragons are creatures of magic. Some can see the future, at least parts of it, but it's often confusing and hard for them to make sense of. And seeing the future alters it. Nothing becomes certain."
"The dragons were seers?"
"Yes, but not all of them. My master's gift of prophesy was limited, but he saw the end of the world in a nuclear firestorm long before tensions with North Korea became so unstable. Everything, all life, was going to end, that much was clear. So the four great dragons decided to break the Fey Sleep and plunge the world into another dark age."
"But not Itzpapalotl and Tezcatlipoca, the Twin Deaths?"
"Never those two. Dragons war among themselves as much as humans do. And those two were always the most powerful, especially Itzpapalotl. Only her sire Memnog is stronger. The other four dragons hid from them, knowing if they revealed themselves, the Twin Deaths would strike."
"But they did reveal themselves. They appeared over Mount Fuji. Just before the power grids fell."
"And stopped nuclear war. And in doing so, the dragons made themselves vulnerable to the Twin Deaths. And they paid the ultimate price. They died saving us from ourselves."
"But the rest of the world ..."
"Still lives. It was a hard decision, but the right one. Trust me, it wasn't something my master chose lightly. The dragons postponed their plans for as long as they could. Quetzalcoatl sent me out to prepare humanity, or at least part of it, the part that lived in southern California."
"I don't understand."
"Project Grendel."
"You brought the government to Mount Laguna?"
"I did. Slowly, and only those my master felt could be trusted, the most powerful, those who controlled special resources, resources that would be needed to rebuild the world. I brought them to the mountain, and my master dominated their minds before sending them out again to prepare."
"Did he ... did he do that to me, dominate my mind?"
He shook his head. "No. His bond is something much different."
"Why dominate the others, then? What was he trying to do?"
"To prepare humanity for the Awakening. Humanity's ability to wage nuclear war needed to be stopped, but my master didn't want to destroy our species. He wanted us ready to rise after. That's what Project Grendel was really about, about preparing for the end of the world. It was a vast operation to stockpile resources, weapons, and the best warriors to use them."
"Oh my God," she whispered. "The Home Guard Bunker, Marshal's Bunker. My father's Bunker."
"The U.S. Armed Forces Electro Magnetic Vulnerability Assessment Facility." He leaned forward, placing his hands on her knees. "Did you really never wonder why there was so much equipment stored within that bunker? All those vehicles, the state-of-the-art Shrike helicopters, the radios, the supplies—even a cadre of Special Forces soldiers to use them? When the lights went out, Marshal was ready to act. And that's also why the Seagraves were there."
"I ... what? How could you know about the Seagraves?"
"That the werewolf gene ran in their family? My master knew about them; I don’t know how. But he knew that once the Fey Sleep was broken, the gene would reassert itself. My master instructed Marshal to see that the Seagrave brothers, the ones that were in the military, were all transferred to his unit prior to A-Day. In the days that followed, Marshal didn't just have working weapons, electronics, vehicles, and aircraft, but also a family of werewolf soldiers to use them."
"That's ... that's crazy."
"No, what's crazy is believing that a single naval officer commanding a small underground electronic testing facility just happened to have all the resources and men he'd need to rebuild society."
"And your bunker? All that testing gear, the weapons and supplies, the two Blackhawk helicopters?"
"A backup. Project Grendel was the U.S. government's plan to rebuild after the Awakening. But the aftermath of A-Day was much worse than even we expected. All the nation-states fragmented and fell into chaos, including the US. In the span of years, every nation on the planet turned into small fiefdoms controlled by local warlords. Marshal's influence was limited to the western coast, what you now call the Commonwealth of Cascadia."
She stared at him, her thoughts racing. Marshal knew? If so, did that mean her father knew as well? "You did a shit job preparing to rebuild the world."
He nodded, his eyes filled with guilt. "We weren't prepared for our enemies, the Twin Deaths and the Tzitzime. They somehow knew that the other four dragons would break the Fey Sleep and, in secret, had long prepared for it. When the Awakening came, the Twin Deaths were ready. They slaughtered three of the dragons. Only my master escaped. Rebuilding humanity became nearly impossible alone, but the Twin Deaths oversaw the rise of the Aztalan Empire, and it grew so much faster than the other fiefdoms. Now, the greatest military force in the world is the Aztalan Empire, and with my master dead, I don't think they can be stopped."
"Well," she whispered, a weight settling on her heart, "you certainly know how to kill the mood."
Chapter 14
Feeling like a teenaged girl, Angie spent the day with Tec, strolling about the Fey enclave, slowly getting to know one another better. The Fey, particularly the elves, were preparing for war, but Tec seemed to have recovered completely. The elves' magic had healed Tec’s body, but Angie had helped feed his strength. She felt alive when around him, more … alive than she had ever been. They belonged together, and when they made love—as they did several more times that day—their coupling energized them. And the sex... oh, God, the toe-curling sex just got better and better. She couldn't keep her hands off him.
She clung to his powerful arm now as they strolled through an elven garden, the air fragrant with roses. Tec told her of his childhood, his abusive father, a
powerful Mexican landowner, and his mother, a poor peasant girl who still carried the blood of the Teotihuacan people. His father never married his mother, of course, and had hid Tec’s true lineage from him, but he learned the truth when he was fifteen—just before he changed for the first time into a were-jaguar. For her part, Angie spoke of Char and growing up in the Fresno Enclave, of living among the Fey.
He wrapped an arm across her shoulders, drew her in tight against him. "And your parents?"
"Barely remember them, just ... flashes of faces now and then. We lived on a naval base in southern California"—she smiled—"far from water, and my father worked with Marshal in his bunker. They were close, I remember that much, best friends. I was very young on A-Day. I remember ... I remember being sick. I was in a hospital, I think. I remember Marshal bringing me to Char but ... well, everything before that is ... gone. I think maybe Char did … something."
He watched her face, his eyes filled with concern. "That doesn't sound right."
She shrugged. "It's okay. I’m sure she was helping. I'm a source mage. I'm different from the other mages, and Char knew that. And after the Shade King bonded with me, Char’s magic helped me cope with my condition, but it must have also stirred up my memories."
"Now it really doesn't sound right."
Concern blazed in his eyes, and she reached up, turned his face toward her, and kissed him. "It's okay, don't worry. I'm fine."
Later, after dinner, they returned to the guest chambers and made love again. He fell into a deep, satisfied sleep beside her, but his breathing soon took on a jungle cat's purring once again, his powerful chest rumbling. It should have frightened her but instead put her at ease. She placed her cheek on his chest and fell asleep.
Angie dreamed.
She walked through the same elven gardens she and Tec had visited earlier that day, only now it was night, and the gardens were dark and quiet. She saw the occasional elf, but usually just for a moment, and then the elf was gone, winking out of existence. Sometimes, she heard laughter and voices, but the noise always drifted away like smoke.
A part of her knew this was a dream, but she was happy. She was happy and safe and loved. It was more than enough, and a far more pleasant dream than she had become accustomed to.
Her clothing kept changing. One moment she wore the camouflaged combat fatigues of a Home Guard mage, then she wore a long gauze-thin nightgown, her feet bare on the grassy soil. The moon was full and bright, and she gazed up at it for long moments. When she looked down again, she was wearing a barely there short dress that would be more appropriate on a nymph, thigh-high, transparent, very low cut in the bosom, but it made her feel sexy. She spun in place, her long hair swishing about her. Tec would like her in this outfit.
Tec. Her lover.
A thrill of excitement coursed through her, and her skin glowed silver under the moonlight. She felt wonderful, blissful. Happier than she had … well, ever.
The air turned cold so fast it came as a shock, like walking into the Home Guard Bunker’s massive freezer. She wrapped her arms about her and shivered, staring in confusion at the foot of fog now on the ground. Something felt wrong. Her chest tightened as she turned in place, scanning the darkness. The moon was gone, covered by thick clouds.
She felt eyes on her.
"Who's there?" Her voice cut sharply through the garden.
She stepped back and tripped over something, falling hard on her butt. A broken tombstone—she had tripped on a broken tombstone. Now she saw other tombstones all about her covered in weeds, overgrown with bushes. She was back in the graveyard at the base of the church. How—
"I'm going to wake up now," she whispered. "I don't like this dream."
"But is it truly your dream?" a sinuous male voice asked from behind.
Angie scrambled to her feet, drawing back in fear. A young man stood only feet before her, short and thin with raven-dark hair curling before his eyes. He looked completely nonthreatening, but her every instinct screamed at her to run away. His lips were too red, his eyes too dark, his skin so pale he could have been a ghost. He wore dark pants and a black silk shirt with the sleeves rolled up. The shirt was unbuttoned almost to his navel. His dark eyes seemed to look right through her and shone with … hunger?
He reminded her of someone, someone who terrified her.
"Who are you?" Her heart hammered painfully, and she tried to move away, to run. But then she realized she couldn’t move a step, nor could she raise her arms or even look away from him. Her limbs were frozen, as if encased in ice. This wasn’t a dream but a nightmare.
"I finally found you. I did need her help after all, and it took longer than I thought it would, but here we are, alone. Just you and I, my little bird. What shall we do together?"
"What do you want?"
He moved closer, not stepping but just appearing, as if he had merely thought himself closer. This wasn’t her dream, not any longer. It was his now, and she was helpless. He reached out a hand, his fingernails long and black, and trailed ice-cold fingertips over her face. She shivered at his touch.
"I always find my prey." He grinned malevolently as he rested his palm against the skin of her chest, over her pounding heart.
Angie whimpered in fear, her limbs trembling.
He buried his nose in her neck, inhaling deeply. A hunger-filled look of rapture transformed his features. "What are you?" he whispered into her neck, his breath frigid. "You smell so different."
"I ... I'm not afraid of you. I'm going to wake up."
He chuckled then licked her neck. It was like being licked by a corpse, and she gasped, shivering. "I think you’ll stay. I think you’ll like what I’m going to do to you—at least at first." His fingers drifted over her body, over the thin material, trailing across her breasts. And to her shame, she became aroused despite her terror.
Or maybe because of it.
He ran his hands down over her hips and upper thighs, lifting the fabric away. She felt a sharp pain as one of his nails cut her hip, and she gasped. "Who ... what ... are you?" A cold sweat coated her, yet she burned with need at the same time. More Fey magic, she knew, but that didn’t make it any less real.
He considered her with a lascivious smile. "Come now. You lived with Chararah Succubus and her foolish sister. You, better than anyone, should know what I am and why you can’t wake up."
"No. You can't hurt me. This ... is ... a dream."
"Oh, but I can hurt you. Just because it’s a dream doesn’t mean it isn’t real."
She couldn’t even shake her head. Her eyes began to water in shame and frustration. "No ... Dream."
He laughed. "Tell me, my little bird, what kind of creature hunts in dreams?"
"You're a lamia," she whispered, tears running freely now.
"Yes." He opened his mouth, exposing the small fangs. His eyes turned all black as he reared his head back, his mouth open to bite into her neck.
But then fingers gripped his hair from behind, and someone wrenched him away from her, sent him flying back to fall against the ground. Angie staggered back, her limbs free once more.
Ephix stood between them, a plain young woman in a toga who had long dark hair. The male lamia glared at her as he rose to his feet, his black eyes filled with rage. "You dare?"
"You’ll find I dare much, Aernyx," Ephix said. "Touch her again and I will destroy you."
Angie scurried back, putting as much room between them as possible.
"You do not get to tell me what prey I take, Ephix. You have no power over me."
"You will not touch her."
The male lamia, Aernyx, laughed, an evil chuckle. "You can’t protect her every night. I’ll have her yet. And when my mistress comes for you, for your stupid little zoo, you’ll never interfere with me again."
"You always were a snake, Aernyx. Why pretend any longer?"
His body began to shift, to change, to grow. His limbs extended, dark fur and scales sprouted over his flesh, and his head
twisted into a deformed hybrid of a snake and a man.
Ephix glanced over her shoulder at Angie, her own body also changing into its beast form. "Flee, Angela!"
Angie turned and bolted.
She made it only steps before she realized she was no longer in the fog-enshrouded graveyard or elven garden but in thigh-high water in a dark pool in an underground cavern, the only light a golden glow coming from the depths of the pool, so strong it illuminated the cavern’s stalactite-covered ceiling above.
I’m back in the Black Pool, Quetzalcoatl’s old lair.
She didn’t know why she dreamed of the dead feathered serpent’s lair, but she had escaped the lamia.
At first, she thought she was alone, but then she saw Tec before her, his back to her, the water up to his waist. He was naked, like her. He turned and met her gaze, a look of pure joy on his face. "It’s singing. Do you hear its song?"
"What?"
She didn’t hear anything, not a sound, but she did … feel something, a vibration that coursed through her. The vibration seemed to be coming from the water. The dragon-mark on her palm throbbed, and she cried out in wonder at the golden glow in the dark water. There was something in the water that—
Angie bolted upright in the bed she shared with Tec, gasping for air.
Tec, lying beside her, turned to face her. "Did you hear?"
"What?" She couldn’t think properly. Just a dream, just a nightmare … not real. Then she heard the horns. Someone was blowing a horn—an alarm!
Tec jumped from bed, quickly lit a candle, thrust clothing at her, and then began to dress. Now, she heard the palace awaken, heard the pounding footsteps and the clink of armor.
"What's wrong?" she asked as she thrust her legs into her pants and began to pull them up around her hips.
"I think the fighting has begun."
She froze when her fingers touched blood on her hip from a small cut.
The kind a razor-sharp fingernail might make.
Chapter 15
The Awakened World Boxed Set Page 69