The Fire Eater and Her Dragon: A Dragon Rider Urban Fantasy Novel (Setting Fires with Dragons Book 3)

by S. W. Clarke

  Valdis appeared in my vision, full of alarm. Evidently he’d been too preoccupied to pay any attention to my state until now. “When did this happen?”

  “During the operation to reach the helicopter,” Seleema said. “She entered one of Mariana’s memories, and she was attacked by a demon.”

  Valdis sucked in air through his teeth. “And you said you burnt time to heal her?”

  “Yes.” More and more, Seleema was bracing me. “Several hours.”

  Someone’s hands were on my arms; they felt cold. Must be that cold-blooded vampire, I thought. I really hated vampires.

  “Snowdrop?” Valdis whispered. “Can you hear me?”

  “She’s not home,” I snarled up at him, forcing my eyes to steady on his. “Looks like you’ve only got me.”

  If I’d had the energy, I’d have tried to pop him again. He was responsible for my predicament—all in the name of “love.”

  Fact was, you didn’t do this to someone you loved. You didn’t hurt them, make choices for them. And you definitely didn’t turn their soul inside out.

  “Nikolaj,” Valdis called. “Come. You will help her into the tunnel.”

  No, I thought. Not Nikolaj. Anyone but Nikolaj.

  The ex-vampire’s grim face appeared on my left. Actually, not grim … This was the first time he’d borne a glint in his eye. Jerk, I thought. I was suffering, and for the first time, he was happy.

  All because, long ago, Valdis had promised that man’s life to Mariana.

  “I shall help her,” Seleema said.

  “That’s right,” I chimed in, but no one seemed to hear me. Or if they did, my words hadn’t come out the way I’d intended them.

  Maybe I hadn’t said them at all.

  Nikolaj’s arm went around my other side. “She is my charge. I have my orders.”

  No, no, no.

  But I didn’t have the strength any longer to fight the infection.

  With a sudden wave of pain up one of my arms, I cried out and my legs buckled. They allowed me to drop to my knees, where I yelled, “My arms! GoneGodDamn, my arms.”

  When I looked down at them, I could have sworn they were pulsating. The skin was red, taut, hot.

  Seleema and Nikolaj both knelt beside me. They were both saying things to me simultaneously, and I could hear Nikolaj’s pleasure in his voice.

  Nikolaj relished my pain. He figured if I died, then Mariana died. That meant no more guillotine hanging over his head. He wanted me to die.

  I met eyes with Seleema, tried to tell her to keep the ex-vampire away from me. Just don’t leave me alone with Nikolaj.

  But his were the hands I felt on me as I dropped onto my side on the cold kitchen tiles.

  His was the last face I saw as I passed out of consciousness. And just like that, I was in the blackness of the void.

  There I remained, bodiless and thoughtless, until I heard steps tapping across a stone floor. This didn’t sound like the kitchen floor, though. It sounded old and echoey, and I realized I had transitioned into another memory.

  My eyes stayed shut, but my ears were pricked.

  “I am indebted to you,” a man said.

  Valdis.

  And then, the last thing I expected to hear next—

  The sound of someone being slapped.

  You could never mistake the sound of a hand hitting a cheek. It produced such a definitive, satisfying noise.

  My eyes opened. I wasn’t on the ground any longer—I was standing upright. Around me spread an enormous old castle, the room vast and sweeping and full of candlelight.

  And across the room, Valdis looked shocked.

  Mariana had slapped him.

  ↔

  I stared at the two of them. Valdis looked absolutely gobsmacked; the slap probably hadn’t hurt anything but his pride, but I can’t imagine he’d been slapped by a human in the last several centuries.

  Maybe not ever.

  Such an act was beyond comprehension, especially knowing now that Valdis thought of humans as cattle.

  Mariana was meat, just like all the rest.

  Wasn’t she?

  It seemed not, because Valdis stood stock still. He didn’t have words, but one of his hands had risen to the slapped cheek.

  As I studied them, I recognized the same garb they’d worn in the last memory, when they were riding in the carriage. Mariana had a simple shawl over her shoulders, and a long, pale green dress made elegant simply by her frame.

  We stood in the sitting room of a grand stone house—maybe a castle. It struck me as the home I’d stood on the balcony of when I’d first seen Ariadne as a baby. Opulent, remote—perfect for a vampire.

  Around us, candles were lit. Through a window, the moon managed to cast its silver glow between a break in the curtains.

  It was nighttime. Which meant they had been attacked by the sorcerer and the werewolves earlier in the day. Mariana had stood the sorcerer down and, by some miracle, gotten him to retreat.

  And Valdis was indebted to her, as he’d just said.

  So why had Mariana slapped him?

  She answered my question as I thought it.

  “You are a ruthless killer,” she said up to him. “A creature far more powerful than anything this world has ever known. And one as powerful as you does not need to be a liar—a deceiver.”

  Valdis’s brow furrowed. “I do not understand.”

  “Yes you do. You and I both know damn well that the sorcerer and his man-wolves brought no real danger.”

  His hands went out. “So why did you play that little game? Why did you climb from the carriage to defend me?”

  Good question.

  She scoffed, half-turned away. “You fool. I was not defending you.” She paused. “I was defending them.”

  Valdis burst into laughter. I jumped so hard I almost knocked a mirror behind me. I had never heard him laugh … I didn’t even know he was capable of laughter.

  Truth was, I thought he was the most humorless creature alive.

  And his laughter was surprisingly beautiful, melodic, carrying. I hated that the sound of it was pleasant to my ears.

  Which also meant it was pleasant to Mariana.

  As his laughter went on, her face remained serious. “Any human who would take such a great risk to bring someone like you down … that is bravery the world cannot afford to lose. I’ll be damned if I let you consume the souls of the brave.”

  Valdis’s laughter had stopped, and he regarded her with perfect attention.

  She turned back to him, one finger pointing at his chest. “You pick your meals from the cowards of this world, but you leave my species strong. Feed on the weak. Whittle my species down to the best. That I will allow.”

  Valdis stared at her, completely flabbergasted. And for good reason.

  Heck, I was gawking at her. “Damn, Mariana,” I said, “you are one badass mother—”

  But before I could finish my eloquent observation, Mariana’s gaze jerked toward me. Her eyes widened. “Patience,” she whispered, lifting her hand and pointing behind me. “Run.”

  Chapter 3

  I heard the growl before I turned.

  I knew that growl. I had heard it once before.

  The demon. It had found me.

  When I slowly turned my face, I found those red eyes staring back at me through the open doorway. It stood at the end of a hallway, just fixed on me.

  Not on Valdis. Not on Mariana.

  On me. It only wanted me.

  Last time the eyes had been at eye level. This time … they bore down on me, seated on the head of a creature much larger than me, its frame so wide and hulking it barely fit through the doorway.

  And this time I could see it properly.

  How could I describe the demon? It was kind of like giving form to the wind.

  It didn’t have a proper form. Instead, various limbs jutted from its hairy, black body. Faces pressed out of its torso, their eyes welded shut. Some had open mouths, a
nd some were missing their jaws.

  It started forward. It had a hulking, unsteady walk, throwing itself along on what approximated arms, one leg stretching out to help. But each of its limbs seemed to belong to a different person. They were all mismatched, ungainly. And from the arm-limbs, long claws protruded, scraping across the stone floor.

  Those were the claws that had slashed me. As long as my fingers.

  Then I realized—

  My arms. My infected arms.

  I glanced down at my arms. The wounds were still there, but in this world of memory, they weren’t as debilitating as they’d been in real life. I suppose in the same way that you can sustain wounds in your dreams without slowing down or stopping, the same was true of my gashes.

  They still hurt. They hurt like the dickens. But I could stand. I could move. I could function.

  Mariana had told me to run. And all at once, Seleema’s words returned to me—“This is not a creature you are meant to fight.”

  I couldn’t fight it. I could only run from it.

  I backed up slowly, then more quickly. As I passed Mariana, she regarded me with a look of abject fear. “Patience, what is it?”

  I swallowed. “I wish I knew.”

  “Through the window.” She gestured to the curtained window behind me. “Go. It’s open.”

  As soon as she spoke, the creature fell forward onto its belly. In doing so, several of its faces cried out like harpies, screeching. The arms reached.

  And then it moved fast. It scrabbled across the floor toward me, leaving a trail of thick black blood behind it.

  I ran to the window and pushed the curtains aside. I found it unlocked and opened as Mariana had promised. I leveraged myself up onto the sill, thinking only one thing:

  If I could be hurt in these memories, that meant I could die in them.

  And if my wounds carried into the world, that meant I could die in real life.

  ↔

  I stood poised on the sill, gripping the edges. A long slope raced away from the mansion, ending in the trees down below. A long, long way. In real life, no one could survive a fall like that.

  But I had done this before, when I’d jumped off Mariana’s balcony. And the last time I’d done it, I had woken up.

  This window was at least a story higher. But if I had farther to fall, that meant I had more time to wake up, right?

  No use wasting time.

  I raised one foot, and was about to throw myself through the window when I was yanked back into the room.

  Behind me, Mariana screamed. But she was overwhelmed by the sound of the faces on the demon shrieking in triumphant unison.

  I hit the stone floor on my back, narrowly avoiding slamming my head against it. When I looked back, the demon had hold of my jacket and proceeded to start dragging me away from the window.

  I was pulled between Mariana and Valdis. She had backed up, but he seemed to have gone impassive, like a video game character no one had any reason to interact with.

  The demon jerked me up off the ground by my jacket, and I scrabbled to escape as I raised first to my knees, and then to my feet. No use; my arms couldn’t quite slide out of the jacket at this angle.

  Mariana backed up into a table, knocking over a carafe of wine. It shattered on the ground, and she spun. Her hand found a candlestick holder complete with burning candlestick, and she grabbed the thing up.

  “Get away from her!” she yelled, rushing at the demon with the weaponized piece of pewter. I heard a thud as she swung, and one of the faces snarled back at her.

  Distraction.

  She had given me the gift of distraction.

  For one second, I remained immobile on my feet. In that one second, I slid my arms out of my jacket, nearly fell forward to my knees before I caught myself.

  I didn’t look back. I kept my eyes on the moon through the curtains. All I wanted was to get to that moon.

  I leapt up onto the sill, and with a yell, I threw myself out of the 13th-century mansion into the middle of the Bulgarian forest.

  Wind flew past my ears, my body picking up speed as the trees rushed toward me. This was where I would awaken. This was where Seleema would call my name, or Percy, or someone who cared about me.

  But no one called my name.

  And I didn’t wake up.

  I hit the branches one by one, thudding all the way down. Finally, I free-fell to the forest floor, hitting the leaves with a crunch. Somehow I’d rolled onto my back as I fell, and now I lay staring up at the canopy above me.

  I could still see the moon.

  I wasn’t dead. But I also wasn’t awake.

  So apparently the demon had the power to kill me, but a ten-story fall didn’t. Which told me something important—something terrifying: this demon was so powerful, it could obliterate me. It was that potent.

  And I knew it was hunting me.

  Again, Seleema’s words rang through my head. This wasn’t a creature I could fight.

  According to her, I had to go to the place in my head I refused to. She thought I knew what that place was, but she was wrong. I didn’t know. Whichever was the case, she’d called it a form of suicide.

  If I didn’t figure out where I needed to go soon, I wouldn’t be able to run from this evil. It was already bigger than me; the next time I saw it, I’d bet dollars to donuts it would be larger than Percy.

  Percy.

  I needed to get back to Percy.

  I had brought him to Valdis’s home, and then I’d left him all alone. And in the end, he’d been GoneGodDamn right—why hadn’t he and I just gone off together? Because of my vendetta?

  But of course, it was more than that. Within a few days, I wouldn’t be Tara anymore … I would be Mariana.

  And even if Mariana loved Percy and took care of him and acted as his mother, it wouldn’t be enough. I’d promised him I would never leave him. I’d promised him I would always take care of him. Always be his momma.

  And I would keep that promise.

  I tested my fingers and toes, found them responding to my wishes. Well, nothing broken. I hurt all over, sure, but that was to be expected.

  I rolled onto my stomach, got my hands under me and pushed myself up to my knees. Hundreds of feet beyond, lights shimmered through the forest.

  I squinted at them. To my right, a brilliant kaleidoscope of lights shone through the night, and a faint, upbeat music played.

  A circus. But how was there a circus below?

  I recognized that music. It was the new circus I’d joined for a few months after the GrandExodus—the one where I’d found Percy. But what was it doing here?

  This dreamscape wasn’t making sense in the way that dreams don’t.

  Places, distances, time … they were all malleable in this place because it wasn’t real. It was a composite of my and Mariana’s memories, thoughts and feelings ...

  And fears.

  Another sound caught my attention. On my left, a scream. A harsh spotlight flashed into my eyes, and then another, and another. Over it, the eerie tones of slow carnival music. Another scream sounded and slowly died away.

  Another, different circus. I looked over the canopies littering the fair grounds and saw my father’s truck parked behind the Big Top. This was my family’s circus—my home before I lost everything.

  I pushed myself to my feet.

  These were my memories, and my mind was giving me a choice between two circuses.

  On the right, the place where I’d found Percy. On the left, the place where I’d been when the GrandExodus occurred.

  I stared hard at both. My gut pulled me right, toward Percy. But my head pulled me left, toward the screams.

  Why should I return to the place of my parents’ death again? I had been back there more than once. I had seen what there was to see.

  Nothing good. Nothing kind.

  So I started right, toward Percy and the pretty carnival sounds; I wanted them to envelop me in their embrace. This was the circ
us I had fled to after the GrandExodus—Barnum and Bailey. What else was a lifelong circus gal supposed to do, after all, but join another circus?

  But no matter how long I walked—or ran—or sprinted toward the memory of Percy, it never got any closer.

  And then I woke with a cold splash.

  Chapter 4

  I jerked up, coughing and sputtering. Water ran down my face, into my nostrils, my mouth, soaking my shirt.

  Seleema stepped back, a large empty bowl clutched between her hands. “It worked.”

  I pressed my sopping hair off my forehead with the back of my hand. “If you’re trying to waterboard me, you’ve done a piss-poor job of it, Seleema.”

  “I am absolutely not attempting to torture you. I was simply attempting to wake you.”

  She set the bowl on a table, and I realized we were in a bedroom. I lay on a California king-sized bed, complete with enormous, plush pillows. The bedroom included a vanity with a circular mirror and a reading seat built into the window.

  Ariadne’s bedroom, maybe.

  On the far wall, a painted portrait of Valdis and Mariana stared back at me. He stood behind her chair, and she sat with a baby in her arms.

  Arms. I stared down at my own arms, and found them not nearly as painful or infected. My eyes darted to Seleema. “What happened?”

  She picked up a glass of water and brought it over to me. “Drink.”

  “I’m not thirsty.”

  She kept the glass extended. “I assure you, you are.”

  I finally took it. After the first sip, I found myself unable to stop drinking until the glass was empty. When I set it on the side table, Seleema sat on the edge of the bed.

  “Tara,” she said. “How do you feel?”

  “Terrible.” I was wet, still in pain, and my insides were balled with anxiety. “Is Percy all right?”

  “He is still in the room where you left him.”

  I started up off the bed. “I need to talk to him.”

  Seleema stopped me. “First, we must talk.” The look in her eyes told me she wasn’t messing around, so I sat back. “You were convulsing, Tara.”