My father lay against the doorframe, head fallen to the side. He didn’t move. I raced to him.
“Dad!” I shook him. His eyes were closed. When I couldn’t rouse him, I felt for a pulse the way he’d taught me. It was weak, and he still wouldn’t wake when I shook him. Life without my father loomed.
I grabbed the phone and dialed 911.
He had his rules, but I wasn’t losing my daddy.
Chapter 4
The Dragonlord Kyas
Hours later, my father lay across a hospital bed, a bandage and thick gauze over his left eye. Black stitches ran down his face, closing the wound from under his eye to his jaw. Blankets covered him up to his chest, leaving the bruises on his chest partially visible. I hated seeing those bruises on him. Hated seeing what they’d done to his face. Hated the men who’d done this to him.
While my dad slept, a nurse looked me over, examining the bruise Cron had left on my cheek. After some tests, she gave me a clean bill of health, asking me questions. I gave only the bare minimum of information, as my father always taught me.
The nurse took me in to see my father, but he was out cold, so she sat with me for a while and played Scrabble. I knew she was trying to keep my mind off my father. It wasn’t working.
When I came back from a washroom break, I made my way to his room again. Was he awake? A few feet from the entrance to the room, I froze. A strange male voice drifted from inside.
“Adam, you fool human. Can’t stay out of trouble, can you?” The voice was deep and warm and low and made me feel safe, like a toasty blanket on a cold night. I swallowed, never having heard anything so wonderful.
A quiet keening sound drifted from the room, and then a low, white-ish gold light flashed. Light, like Falkor had produced when he used his powers.
My father was in danger again.
I moved toward the room, heart hammering. When I got inside, I stopped and stared.
The strangest looking boy I’d ever seen stood at my father’s bedside. A dark cloak covered his tall frame, a deep hood covering his head. He held one hand gently over my father’s bandaged eye, the other over his bruised ribs. The same bright light glowed from his palms. What was he doing?
I couldn’t see his face well, no more than a glimpse of high cheek bones and the start of stubble on his chin, but I had the impression of a boy a couple of years older than me. And yet, something about him felt…much older. The feel of magic from him felt strong and well tuned, too much so for one so young.
I knew he wasn’t hurting my father, and yet everything I saw reminded me too much of the man who had hurt him.
I darted out of sight behind the curtain that covered half the window before he could see me. Then I pushed my hand out at the hospital table that stood near Dad’s bed. The tray there flung at the boy’s head.
The boy’s large hand rose, and, without taking his eyes off my dad, he made a pushing motion. The tray halted a few inches from him, slowly righted, then lowered back onto the table. His other hand remained over my dad’s ribs. That light glowed a moment longer before the bruises shrank away and vanished.
Once more, he put his hand over Dad’s eye. More glowing light. As he ran his palm down my father’s face, the wound knitted together, leaving only a faint scar.
Stepping out from behind the curtain without thinking, I made a small, pathetic noise in surprise, then covered my mouth.
Taking his hand away from Dad, the boy turned his head toward me. He lowered his hood to his shoulders. His beautiful mouth pulled into a smile.
Seeing his face was like receiving a gift for the eyes. Blond hair like spun gold covered his head in waves, cropped to his shoulders. Golden eyes sparkled, like Falkor’s but softer and with a touch more amber. A golden dragon shone on his forehead under his curls, its outspread wings half hidden. He had that same ageless look Falkor had, but on him, it seemed more pronounced, perhaps because he looked so much younger.
I wanted to fear him, should have been terrified of him, but instead I only felt…safe. He had something about him that made me want to trust him. Plus, he’d helped my dad, which got him points.
“You are injured.” He squatted in front of me, looking at my face. “Come here, let me look at you.”
Something compelled me to go to him. Never had I wanted to please someone so much. Anything to keep hearing his voice, seeing that gentle smile.
I hesitated. “What are you? Did you fix my father’s eye?”
“I can’t bring back what is lost, no. But he is no longer hurt. I’ve done what I can, little one. That’s a nasty bruise you have there. Let me heal it.”
I shook my head. “You’re the same. The same as them.”
“The same as who? The men who hurt your father?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s right. I am the same race as them.” He lifted one palm, letting me see the glow of white light there. It formed a hovering ball, then morphed into fluffy white horses that galloped and tumbled over each other like waves of magic. “I have the same eyes. The same magic.”
“The same dragon.”
“Mm.” His voice was so great, deep and glorious and warm. The horses vanished. “But I am not like them.”
“No. You’re nice.” Too nice.
“Am I?” He chuckled. “No. You are right not to trust me. Or my people.”
“Why? Because they like hurting us?” I’d never forget the glee I heard in Cron’s voice, laughing at my father’s pain.
“Not all Suvia Kyans like to bully humans.”
“How do I make them leave us alone?”
He let out a low sound, like a deep, vibrating sigh that sounded regretful. “Unless you got yourself a dragonsign…” he pointed to the golden dragon on his forehead…“and a pair of glowing eyes, there is nothing you can do. Our laws say only Suvia Kyans are entitled to magic.”
Something in his tone told me that the dragon on his forehead wasn't just gorgeously done ink. It was actually a part of him, like a birthmark, as much a part of him as the faint golden glow of his eyes. That glow had intensified when he used his magic. “Why?”
He smiled wryly. “Way of the world, little one. It is what it is, and until the law is changed, it will always be.” He paused, and what he said next sounded as though he was quoting something. “‘Those who bear not the mark of The Dragon, yet carry magic within them, are tainted with the darkness of Shandar and therefore must be hunted down and put to death in the purity of His Flame.’ You understand?”
“So, because we don’t look like you, we can’t have abilities like you?”
“It’s not my law,” he said gently. “It’s a law far older than I.”
“Well, then the law needs to change.”
Something warm flashed in his eyes and butterflies went crazy in my belly. He opened his mouth like he meant to reply, but my father coughed. The boy stood abruptly, and the butterflies vanished. I had the oddest feeling of something being broken between us.
“Adam. How are you feeling?”
Adam. Of the many names my father used, I’d never heard him use that one.
Dad blinked and sat up suddenly. “You’ve got to be kidding. Kyas. How did you…? When did you…?” He gingerly felt around his face and eye, slowly peeling the bandage off. My mouth fell open again. The eye was missing, but his eye socket looked clean and healed, unscarred. “What did you do?”
Why did he sound irritated?
“I healed you. Which I would not have had to do if you’d have kept your fucking nose clean like I told you.”
Dad dropped his head onto the pillow. “Great. Dragon’s magic. That’s all I need.”
“You’re welcome, Adam,” Kyas said, but he sounded amused.
“I’m not thanking you, Kyas Danshar. You’re arrogant enough as it is.”
“I told you before, arrogance is only arrogance if it isn’t backed up by fact.” He dropped into the only chair in the room, lounging. “Tell me what happened, Adam.
Everything. Leave nothing out.”
I wanted to hear the boy talk some more, but something told me my father wouldn’t have wanted me near Kyas. I didn’t like how drawn I was to him, but somehow I could feel he wouldn’t hurt me, so I went to a chair in the waiting room nearby where I could still see and hear them.
Kyas moved like a warrior, one trained for years like those in the fantasy books I read, and he sounded more mature than he physically looked. If I had to guess, I’d have said he looked fourteen, but that didn’t add up. My father talked to him like an equal, and yet his face was a kid’s face. He steepled his hands in front of his face while my father talked, fingers long and nimble-looking.
After a moment, Kyas caught me staring. He thumbed his nose at me, causing a smile to pull at my lips. He seemed so wise, so knowing, the face he made all the more playful and out of place for it.
“Helena was trying to save me,” my father told him now. “She used her powers again. To save me this time.”
“What did you do that you needed to be saved by a twelve-year-old girl?”
“Fuck you, Dragonlord.” But his anger sounded halfhearted, like when I called him names after he jumped out at me. “I fell out of a hayloft. She stopped my fall.”
“She should have let you fall,” Kyas said coldly.
Indignation bit into me at that, but I didn’t need to say anything; my father did just fine on his own.
“She’s a little girl who wanted to save her father, Kyas.”
“So teach her better,” Kyas snapped. “A broken leg from a fall is better than watching your daughter burn for witchcraft. You humans are too damned easy on your offspring.”
“Oh? What would your father have done if you used your magic out of turn when you were a kid, Kyas? Eat you?”
So, he was older.
“He’d have taken a belt to my ass.”
“Figures. Brutes.”
Kyas grinned. “You never change, do you? What the hell were you doing buying a farm? What happened to the monster slayer I know and revile?”
My father glared at him. “If you must know, I wanted to give Helena a home. Stability. No more running at the drop of a hat and living in fear. All things you wouldn’t understand.”
“Why wouldn’t I understand?” Kyas dropped his steepled hands. “Because I’m a heartless dragon who pillages villages and burns people to ash for fun?”
“I didn’t say that.” He wouldn’t look at him.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“Get out of my head, dragon.”
“I’m not in your head. I told you, I don’t do that without good reason. But I know you, Adam. You are tougher than dragonsteel. What scared you off hunting what needs to be hunted?”
“Leave it alone.”
“I will not.” Kyas knifed to his feet and bent over him. His voice was low and dangerous. “Adam, you don’t listen, do you? You can’t afford to stay in one place for too long. You want to live, you keep moving.”
“Easy for you to say, Dragonspawn. You don’t like attachments, and you don’t care about anyone.”
Kyas looked bored. “If it makes you feel better to vilify me, that’s fine, Adam. But there is something to be said for being alone. There is nothing to make you vulnerable.” He reached into the folds of his cloak and pulled out papers and what looked like two passports. He tossed them on the bed.
“The US, this time?” My dad flipped through them.
“Yes. Pan had them made for you. You get yourself and Helena out of here as soon as I leave and get across the boarder.”
“Thank you,” my father grumbled.
Kyas raised a brow. “This time say it with less feeling.”
“Really.” My father clapped him on the shoulder and some of the sourness left his expression. “You and the others keep saving my ass.” He looked up at him. “It’s almost good to see you again, dragon.”
“You, too, human.” Kyas clasped him on the shoulder in return, his hand dwarfing it. “Take care of her.” Kyas glanced at me, light flashed in his hand, and it turned into a white-golden bird that fluttered about his head before vanishing. Then he said to my father, “I don’t want to be back here having to hand you another set of papers in a month.”
“You won’t. Hey, what are you doing with her?” he snapped, when Kyas waved at me. “Mittens, come here, baby.”
I ran to him and leaped up onto the bed. Kyas smiled at me and for some reason, Dad held me too tight. “Don’t talk to her.”
Kyas’s face did the most amazing thing then. His lips stretched into a smirk of amusement I could feel all the way to my toes. “I will talk to her if I please.”
Then he reached out, and his hand cupped my face, almost enveloping it. Light flashed out of the corner of my eye, my skin felt real warm for a moment, and the pain in my jaw faded and was gone. I felt the burning on my ankle fade. In the instant of contact, I had a strange feeling, like something clicking into place inside me. I thought I saw surprise register in his eyes. Why?
My father pulled me away, clutching me close. Kyas chuckled, pure delight. Then he turned, waved over his shoulder at my dad, and swept for the door.
“Keep your nose clean this time, Adam. I’m not going to keep sweeping in and cleaning up after you.”
When Kyas was gone, my father let out a long grumble and put his head back. He looked like he’d just gone three rounds with a werewolf.
I snuggled close to my daddy, loving his warmth and strength. “Are you better now, Daddy?”
“Yeah, I am, sweetheart.” He kissed my temple.
“Kyas made you better. With his magic.” My cheek still tingled where he’d touched it.
Dad’s jaw tightened. He wouldn’t look at me.
“What were those men who came to the house? Were they dragons?”
“Not quite. They were Dragonlords, honey.”
“What’s a Dragonlord?”
“Someone you should never, ever talk to or trust.” He did look at me now, urgent. “Helena, do you hear me? Dragonlords are tricksters. They’ll trap you with their words and use you for their own ends. Never go near men like the ones you saw today.”
“What about that one?” I nodded in the direction Kyas had gone. “He says I shouldn’t trust him, but he saved you. He didn’t make sense.”
Dad sat up suddenly and took my arms firmly. “Helena, no.”
“What?”
“Don’t bring that one up again. Don’t even say his name. Him you should trust least of all.”
“But why?” I couldn’t make sense of the emotions flickering through my father’s mind when it came to Kyas. It was like he trusted him, but he hated that he did. Hated him and respected him in turns. He also felt imminently threatened by him. That emotion leaped out at me, ominous. Why was it boys and men never made any sense? “Kyas isn’t a trickster, is he?”
But even as I said that, warning bells sounded in my head. He’d said I shouldn’t trust his people.
“Oh, Helena. He may be the trickiest one of all.” When I didn’t look convinced, he drew me to him in a crushing embrace. “I don’t want him to take you away from me, all right?”
“What?” I jerked my head up to him.
“I meant them. I don’t want them to take you away. And they will, baby, they will.”
I didn’t understand him, but I could feel it in his head, he needed the reassurance that I’d follow this new rule, so I nodded and held him close. I mulled over the feeling I’d had, of being drawn to Kyas. That feeling had seemed too strong. Unnatural.
Like he was making me feel it?
The answer settled on me, stark and undeniable, and suddenly that odd feeling I’d felt when he’d touched my cheek unsettled me. I shivered.
“No one’s going to take me away, Daddy.” I meant it. “And no one’s going to take you from me, either.”
> “No.” He kissed my forehead. “They won’t.”
“Tell me about the Dragonlords.”
He rubbed my back. “I don’t know that much about them, baby. No one does.”
“How did they find us so fast after I used my magic? Where did they come from?”
“I wish I knew. No one knows.”
Huh. My mind filled with images of men who came from some hidden place, from deep in the sea, like Atlantis, or from the clouds, like the Valkyrie.
“Humans know next to nothing of Dragonlords, but I know this. A Dragonlord’s help always comes at a price no one wants to pay…”
I drifted off to sleep in his arms, to the sound of his voice, but long after, I was still asking myself the same question. Kyas had saved me and my father, repeatedly, according to him, so what was his price?
Chapter 5
A Normal Life
Present day…
The truck lurched, bringing me slowly into consciousness.
Pain enveloped me, burning under my skin as though every ounce of my blood was on fire. For an instant, my mind struggled to recall what had occurred before the blackness. Then I remembered. The Demon Wolf, Rakar. A bite. Poison.
Picturing myself turning into the kind of monster I hunted, I snapped my eyes open. Through blurry vision, I made out the inside of Dad’s Blazer. I looked over at the driver’s seat.
“Dad?” Confusion swam through my mind. The man getting out of the truck didn’t look like my father, not with his blond hair, his smooth features. Not to mention, he had both eyes. Last time I’d seen my dad, his dark hair was flecked with grey at the temples, he often let a five o’clock shadow darken his jaw, and he wore a black patch to cover his missing eye. “Where’s my father?”
“Stay there, Helena,” the man said when I tried to open the passenger side door. He came around to my side of the vehicle and easily pulled me into his arms.
A familiar scent, wild and animal, filled my nose. From him? He smelled like a damn werewolf.
Why was I with a shifter? My dad didn’t hunt werewolves as a rule; any self-respecting monster hunter knew they weren’t inherently evil, but we weren’t friendly with them either. Why did he have my father’s Blazer, and where the hell had he taken me?
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