Ember's Kiss

by Deborah Cooke

The guys laughed at this and ignored him. “You think he has treasure?” Rick asked. “Dragons are supposed to.”

  “Hey, you should ask that old guy you’re always talking to,” Dylan said to Brandon. “He goes on and on about dragons. He might know something more.”

  “He might give us some clues,” Matt said. “Wasn’t he here today?”

  “Hey, hey!” Brandon interjected, his tone taking on a tinge of desperation. “Leave it alone. Let’s focus on the competition, get a beer, celebrate our survival.”

  The guys looked at each other, then shook their heads as one. “I say we find a dragon instead,” Dylan said, and the other two nodded vigorously. “Come on. We’ll go borrow Kira’s car.”

  Brandon flung Liz a panicked look. “They’ll never give it up,” he muttered, and she recognized that the competitive spirit that drove these surfers would manifest in other parts of their lives, too.

  “You won’t find a dragon at Ka‘ena Point,” a guy with a deep voice said, speaking with authority. Liz glanced up to find a muscled guy with dark hair and dark eyes leaning against the doorway to the bar. He was a bit shorter than Brandon, and older, too. She looked, but the guy who had been watching from the other side of the road had disappeared. This was a different guy.

  Brandon bristled visibly, and when Liz glanced his way in confusion, she saw that his eye had changed to a red reptile eye. There was a shimmer of pale blue light silhouetting his body, competing with the indigo of his aura.

  What was wrong?

  Liz looked at the new arrival and guessed. He, too, was shimmering pale blue around his perimeter, on the cusp of change.

  This guy was another Pyr.

  Liz had wanted to find another dragon shape shifter so Brandon could ask for advice, but it looked like the dragon shape shifters had found Brandon.

  She could only be glad of that. Maybe he’d get the help he needed.

  But Brandon looked both livid and unwilling to accept help from this Pyr.

  Brandon was startled by the new arrival’s words. What made him think the dragon was his business? Or that he could interfere in their conversation?

  When had he turned up? And why hadn’t Brandon heard him coming or noticed him sooner? His dragon senses were sharper than human senses and he wasn’t used to being surprised.

  His dragon exhaled, a long, slow hiss of irritation, and Brandon guessed the truth.

  He was Pyr.

  He took a deep breath and smelled the truth of this Pyr’s nature, now that he was paying attention. What did he want? Nothing good, Brandon was sure. His dragon snarled, ready to rumble.

  “What do you mean?” Dylan asked the new arrival. “Do you know where he went?”

  “There was no dragon,” the guy said, his voice low and melodic. There was something compelling about the way he spoke, and Brandon noticed that there were flames dancing in the pupils of his eyes.

  Liz swore softly under her breath and turned her back on him.

  Brandon looked between the two of them in confusion. What did those flames mean?

  “What’s with your eyes?” Dylan asked, stepping closer to the guy.

  As if he were fascinated.

  Or hypnotized.

  The guy looked deeply into Dylan’s eyes. He seemed to open his eyes even wider and he didn’t blink, giving Dylan a clear view of those weird flames. “There was no dragon. You saw no dragon because there was no dragon.”

  Dylan shuddered. He swallowed, then touched his own forehead. He kept staring into the guy’s eyes. “No dragon,” he said softly, but his words lacked conviction.

  “There’s no such thing as a dragon,” the guy insisted, that deep voice winding into Brandon’s ears with persuasive power. He noticed that all three guys were staring at this new arrival, seeming to hang on his words. The flames in the guy’s eyes grew brighter. They leaned closer to stare.

  “No dragon,” the new guy said.

  “No dragon,” the guys murmured in unison.

  “No reason to go to Ka‘ena Point,” the new arrival said.

  “No reason to go to Ka‘ena Point,” the guys agreed in a quiet chorus.

  “Brandon was caught by a riptide,” the guy said, and Brandon’s friends repeated the statement. They sounded like zombies. In fact, they looked like zombies, staring at this new guy with such intensity. It was like he was hypnotizing them or something.

  Liz was looking determinedly across the street. The line of her shoulders was stiff, though, and she was drumming her fingers on her elbow.

  “Matt got lucky,” the guy said, still speaking with deliberation. The guys repeated that, as well, heaving a collective sigh of relief. “Might as well have a beer,” this new dragon suggested, and Brandon’s friends agreed with that. The guy gestured to the bar and said the magic words that would get them moving. “I’ll buy the first round.”

  Matt, Dylan, and Rick lunged into the bar like they hadn’t had a beer in weeks. The dark-haired dragon nodded to the bartender, then turned back to Brandon.

  “You’re Pyr,” Brandon accused.

  He didn’t answer, just stepped closer with deliberation. “You’re supposed to beguile anyone who sees you shift,” the guy said. His voice was soft, but there was power in it. He might not have been yelling, but Brandon knew he was getting shit.

  “I don’t know how to beguile,” Brandon insisted.

  “That’s stupid. We all know how to do it….”

  “I don’t want to know how to do it! Convincing people to believe things they don’t want to believe is just wrong.”

  “Spellcasting,” Liz said flatly. The guy flicked a look at her, and Brandon knew he saw the radiance in her eyes, too. He considered her for a moment, then looked back at Brandon.

  “Not exactly,” he said. “More like hypnosis. It works best if the person already wants to believe your suggestion.”

  Liz sniffed. “You’re right. That’s different.”

  It wasn’t different enough, as far as Brandon was concerned.

  The guy nodded and turned back to Brandon. “We have to talk.”

  “No. We don’t have to talk. I don’t want to hear anything you have to say.”

  “I was sent by the leader of the Pyr to help you….”

  “I don’t want or need any help. Thanks.”

  “But your father…”

  Brandon jabbed a finger through the air at the guy, interrupting him. “That you know my dad says nothing good about you, as far as I’m concerned. Leave me alone.”

  The guy’s mouth tightened into a firm line. “The Pyr can help you.”

  “I don’t want the kind of help you can give me. I’ll solve this myself. Come on, Liz.”

  Liz held her ground, even when Brandon reached for her hand.

  The guy studied Brandon for a long moment, so motionless that he couldn’t have been anyone other than a dragon shifter. His eyes were very dark brown, almost fathomless. His expression was carefully neutral, and Brandon wondered whether this dragon shifter didn’t know what to expect from him.

  “Sloane Forbes,” he said softly, but he offered his hand to Liz. “You must be the mate, if you’ll forgive our archaic language.”

  She smiled tightly at Sloane, much to Brandon’s dismay. “I’d expect the Pyr to have an old language.” She indicated Brandon. “I’m glad you’ve come. We have a lot of questions.”

  “Hey, we do not,” Brandon protested. “We can handle this ourselves.”

  “This is an opportunity,” Liz said. When Brandon didn’t reply, she kept talking to Sloane. “We had a firestorm last night.”

  Sloane nodded, eyeing the space between them. “And it’s satisfied. Good.” Brandon realized he’d been looking for the firestorm’s sparks. “That’s one fewer group of questions we’ll need to answer.”

  “Why exactly are you here?” Brandon asked, recognizing that his tone sounded rude—or at least unwelcoming—and not really minding that.

  Sloane didn’t seem to
mind, either. Or maybe he wasn’t surprised. He smiled. “I’m the Apothecary of our kind. Our leader, Erik, believes you need to be healed, so he sent me to your firestorm.”

  “You can’t heal what’s wrong with me,” Brandon said in a heated rush. “Unless you’re going to cut my dragon out of my guts for good.”

  “Impossible,” Sloane said, shaking his head. He studied Brandon again, and the younger Pyr wondered how much he could see.

  Brandon gave Liz’s hand an insistent tug. “Look, nice of you to drop by, and thanks for your help with the guys, but I don’t need a dragon to fix what’s wrong with me. I need to ditch the dragon, and I already know that you’re not going to help me do that.”

  Brandon glanced across the bar and saw exactly the man he wanted to question. Chen! “Excuse me. I’ve got to meet a friend.”

  He almost hauled Liz into the bar. Halfway to Chen’s table, she stopped and he looked at her in confusion.

  “I’ll catch up to you in a minute,” she said, and leaned closer to whisper. “Ladies’ room!”

  Why did he sense that she was lying to him?

  Why would she lie about that?

  Brandon nodded and forced a smile for her, gesturing to the washrooms. She hurried away. He checked, but that Sloane guy handed some cash to the bartender, then left without a backward glance.

  Good riddance.

  Brandon inhaled deeply, paying attention, but his keen sense of smell told him that there were no other Pyr in his vicinity. Good. He headed for Chen, more than ready for some answers about that powder.

  Chapter 8

  Liz hated when she needed to be two places at once. She saw Brandon make a beeline for a table in the far corner of the bar and guessed that the man sitting there with his back to her was the friend who had traded him the powder. She really wanted to hear all that the guy had to say.

  But she also didn’t want to lose the chance to talk to the Pyr who had shown up. That the leader of the Pyr had sent Sloane to heal Brandon convinced her that the Pyr were good to each other. Brandon was wrong—but she had to learn more while she could, before Sloane left. She had to ensure that Brandon was in good hands—or claws—before she had to step away from him and deal with her own history.

  Make that three places she was supposed to be. It was after noon and the symposium was scheduled to begin with a cocktail party at seven. Given that Liz was a guest of the Institute and one invited at Maureen’s behest, she couldn’t afford to not be there.

  Four places. She hadn’t lied about needing the facilities.

  Liz chose to pursue Sloane first.

  To her relief, Sloane hadn’t gone far. He was outside, on the street side of the bar. He was standing out of sight of the people in the bar—Brandon and his friends, probably—and leaning against the back fender of Maureen’s car.

  As if he’d expected her.

  He nodded at the sight of her but looked grim.

  “How’d you know this was my car?”

  Sloane touched the side of his nose. “We have sharper senses than humans. Does he know you’re here?”

  Liz shook her head. “I have to be quick. Are you really the Apothecary of the Pyr?”

  Sloane nodded. “Who is he talking to? I couldn’t see his face.”

  “He said there was an old guy, a friend who swapped him some powder for his scales.”

  Sloane inhaled sharply in disapproval, and Liz realized he’d guessed who Brandon’s elderly friend was.

  “There’s something about that powder, isn’t there? It doesn’t just make him lucky, like he thinks. He says the old guy uses it as a restorative.”

  Sloane snorted. “I’ll bet.” He studied her for a moment. “How much do you want to know?”

  “Everything. I need to help Brandon.”

  Sloane smiled a little. He leaned closer and dropped his voice, nodding toward the bar. His words fell quickly. “Brandon’s not with any old guy and certainly not with a friend. That has to be Chen, an ancient Slayer who has been trying to gain control of the Pyr for years. He’s the only one who has that powder and the only one who would trade it for scales.” He arched a brow. “He’s also one of the few who can disguise his scent. That’s why I didn’t know he was here.”

  “What’s a Slayer?”

  “Pyr gone bad. Choosing selfishness and personal gain instead of service to the earth and defense of humanity. Their blood turns black, and the story is that the darkness of their blood is a sign of the darkness in their hearts.” Sloane’s gaze was bright. “How much do you know about us and Brandon?”

  “Not enough. Brandon says the dragon is ascendant, that he can’t control it. He says that’s new and he originally thought it was because of the firestorm. I think it’s because of the powder Chen gave him.” She quickly told Sloane her theory about the binding spell, and he nodded.

  If anything, he looked grimmer.

  “I told him that he should talk to other Pyr, find out more, but he doesn’t want anything to do with the Pyr. He’s convinced that the dragon is evil. He wants to kill it.”

  “He can’t, not without killing himself.”

  Liz nodded. “That’s his solution.” She sighed. “He’s afraid of it and its growing power. He says it’s violent and wants to injure everyone.” She considered Sloane. “Am I right? Is the powder part of it?”

  He nodded. “It must be Dragon Bone Powder. I’d need to smell it to be sure.”

  “That sounds gross. What is it?”

  “It’s exactly what you think it is. It’s made from incinerated Pyr, and the smell of it has an effect on us. It does strengthen the dragon, but not usually as much as what Brandon is experiencing.” He eyed her again. “What are you? Why do you know about binding spells?”

  Liz stepped back and averted her gaze. “Maybe I read about them somewhere.”

  Sloane shook his head. “No. You have powers yourself.” His gaze was intense and he seemed to take a deep whiff of the air. “There’s something different about you.”

  “No, there isn’t.”

  Sloane looked Liz in the eye. “Don’t imagine that you’ll be able to avoid your nature any more than Brandon can avoid his.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Yes, you do, but you don’t have to tell me more. You already know that I’m right.” He straightened and moved away from the car. “See if you can get some of the powder. Then I’ll know for sure what it is.”

  Liz could deal with that request. She thought it was a small thing to ask, and with Sloane’s help, she’d be relatively sure that Brandon would be okay. Brandon had the vial and there might be enough in it to confirm Sloane’s theory. “I’ll try. How will I find you when I do get it?”

  “You won’t,” Sloane said, then smiled. “But don’t worry; I can find you. You’d better go to him before he realizes we’re talking.” When she would have turned away, he caught her shoulders in his hands and looked into her eyes. There were no flames dancing there. “I think you already understand that what’s happening to him isn’t his nature. There’s something else at work, and I am here to heal him.” Liz nodded, and Sloane smiled at her. “Rafferty, one of our kind, insists that the firestorm brings us the perfect mate, the one who can complete us and make us more than we are alone.”

  “Brandon says he can shift back when he feels my presence.”

  Sloane nodded. “So, you can heal him, whatever your powers are.”

  “I don’t…”

  Sloane shook his head. “I’ll bet that you will need to do more than just be in his presence to solve this.”

  Liz looked away, but told Sloane only part of the truth. “You don’t understand. I gave my powers away. I sacrificed them. They’re gone.”

  “Looks to me like they’re back, and Brandon needs you to embrace them.” Sloane smiled at her, looking more confident than Liz felt. “You’ll both be healed by the firestorm, which is more than right.” Liz might have argued with Sloane, but
he continued, and his words stopped her cold. “Anything less wouldn’t be fair to your son.”

  “My son?” Liz stared at Sloane in confusion. “What son?”

  Sloane dropped his hands and backed away, his expression turning guilty. “I thought he’d told you everything about the firestorm.”

  She stared at the other Pyr, aghast. “His son,” she murmured.

  “That’s why the sparks disappear,” Sloane said softly. “I’m sorry. I thought you knew.”

  Love. Destiny. Forever.

  And a baby on the way!

  How could Brandon have done to that her? How could she have forgotten about precautions herself? Was it just because of the overwhelming power of the firestorm? She wasn’t on birth control, either. If Brandon hadn’t been Pyr, she wouldn’t have believed that conception could be a done deal, but she knew that she was working with a species with special powers.

  And the sparks had died.

  As much as she might have wished otherwise, she believed Sloane.

  Liz spun around, more furious than she’d been in a long time. She didn’t want to have a child of either gender. She didn’t want to pass along her genetic ability and its burden to anybody.

  How could Brandon have neglected to tell her?

  And what was she going to do about it?

  Liz marched into the bar, heading straight for the corner table where Brandon was engaged in earnest conversation with an elderly man. He glanced up as she approached the table, and his smile began to fade. Liz didn’t slow down.

  Until she was standing right at the table. “How could you not tell me?” she demanded.

  Brandon looked confused. “Tell you what?”

  Brandon’s companion chuckled and she glanced at him for the first time.

  It was the same elderly Chinese man to whom Liz had given a ride.

  Who was the Slayer targeting Brandon.

  Befriending him, lying to him, and weakening him.

  Driving him closer to suicide.

  And it was working because Brandon believed the best of people.

  This was the spellcaster.

  One more time, she couldn’t decide whether to deck Brandon or haul him back to her room for another passionate night. She seized his hand. “I have to talk to you,” she said curtly. “Right now and not here!” She tugged him to his feet.