Pursuing Flight: A Dragon Spirit Novel: Book 4

by C. I. Black

  He held his free hand out to her, an invitation to take it and step through his gate. Not anything more. Not the surety and comfort she irrationally wanted from him, a stranger. Yet a part of her knew he wasn’t a stranger. She recognized a fellow soldier who strove to protect innocent lives, a kindred spirit, a match she hadn’t realized she’d been looking for.

  “No, I have… an ability that lets me hone in on a… person—”

  “Jeez, you can say it.” She squared her shoulders and took his hand. “Magic. You have magic that lets you find humans with magic.” A shiver threatened to shake her, but she managed to keep steady. “See, I’m holding my shit together even while looking at that black hole.”

  “Oh, yeah, you’re not affected at all,” he said, his tone sarcastic. “I’m stuck in your head, remember?”

  But please, not hearing everything. Oh, man. That would be embarrassing.

  He didn’t respond to that, so perhaps — thank God — her confused emotions weren’t bleeding through the connection.

  “Fine,” she forced out. She’d carry on as if he didn’t know. When she got herself fully together, she’d consider her emotions. Until then, not feeling anything and moving forward was the only way to get through this. “Given the circumstances, I’m holding enough of my shit together to function.”

  “I’ll give you that.” He pulled her into the gate, and the stomach-churning, mind-burning darkness enveloped her.

  The tremor she’d been fighting rushed through her, and with a gust of wind, the world returned. She staggered forward, her legs wobbly, her pulse racing, and the people yelling and hissing in her head grew louder than before.

  Nero’s grip on her hand tightened, and he tugged her to his chest, giving her something to steady herself against. Warmth flooded her body and the voices vanished. For a moment — a few seconds that she yearned would last longer — she felt safe and steady, as if just being in contact with Nero anchored her. There was a surety in his presence. One she craved and wasn’t going to think about, for fear she’d break down and take him with her. So much fear and determination radiated from him. And so much certainty from the depths of his being. He had a purpose, just like she’d had in Afghanistan, to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves. Except, as much as she feared and hoped she was part of his purpose, his family, a part of her was disappointed she was lumped into the same category as his children.

  22

  Nero forced himself to relax his embrace around Becca. She’d stumbled coming out of the gate, and he’d instinctually drawn her close to steady her. Now that she was tucked perfectly against his body, he didn’t want to let her go. This was where she belonged. This was right.

  Except it wasn’t right. It was his dugga’s magic making him feel that way, and even if he was impossibly inamorated, she wasn’t.

  The only saving grace to the physical contact was that the voices in her head — now also yelling in Nero’s — had gone silent. The pain, however, had returned to radiate through his skull, although he wasn’t certain if it was hers or just his.

  She eased out of his arms and cleared her throat. “Thanks,” she said in her soft alto, making him yearn to draw her back into his embrace.

  The voices rushed back into her head and swelled through him. His temples pounded, but she didn’t try to turn their volume down, afraid she’d hurt him again.

  A fact he wasn’t going to put too much significance on. It didn’t mean she was inamorated back. It meant she cared about hurting other people. That was all.

  He forced his attention away from her and scanned the area. They stood beside an open door at an abandoned 19th century brown brick three-story factory. Before him lay the parking lot, covered with undisturbed hardened snow that sparkled in the moonlight, indicating no one had come in from the road since the snowfall, melt, and then freeze a few days ago. Beyond stretched the road coming from the bend around one hill and disappearing down the slope of another.

  There wasn’t another building in sight, only tree-covered snowy hills. He remembered the place well. He’d been hit with a flash of the location with almost a dozen mages inside and had sent Diablo to check it out, only to have the drake discover the building was empty.

  “Doesn’t look like anyone is here,” he said. “No tracks.” Although lack of tracks in the parking lot didn’t necessarily mean the building was empty.

  “Werner had already thought about that. After you sent Diablo here and we all fled, we agreed if we returned, we would approach from the hills and enter at the back.”

  Becca’s aura brushed his. She’d turned to the door, inadvertently stepping closer to him — he didn’t even need to see her to know she’d moved — and he ached with the need to hold her again. His gaze slid to her, drawn of its own volition, and he was too tired to fight it.

  “That’s smart.”

  “He was a soldier, too… if his story is true… which I guess it is.” Her essence trembled in his head. “I guess he really is a German World War II soldier who was picked up in Berlin… East Berlin… in 1949 and speaks English because of the dragon who’d possessed him. I guess—” Her mental shaking grew stronger.

  Pain sliced through Nero’s skull. He needed to distract her before she incapacitated him.

  “Take a breath and tell me where your friend might be. The place is pretty big.” And if he recalled correctly, it was a maze of shelves and machinery on the first floor and then a warren of offices on the second and third floors.

  “Right.” She drew in a ragged breath, but the roar in her head and the pain remained, and she hugged herself tighter. Last time she’d been there, she’d thought it was all a nightmare. It still felt like one. She’d lost years of her life, was in a foreign country without a passport or any kind of identification, and now the voices— God, the voices just kept getting louder, but there were so many she couldn’t understand any of them.

  She shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

  He could feel her thoughts whirling through his head, and her determination to enter, but also the fear of what would happen if she did.

  She’d been cold and starving and confused. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the monsters and the cave. She’d wanted to go home, but didn’t know where home was anymore. Where was up or down, left or right, or anything? Nothing had been real, and yet it had all been too real.

  Her will clenched around her essence, catching him up with it and slicing more pain through his head.

  I can do this. I have to do this.

  A tremor raced through her, and her panic tightened her grip on him even more.

  But is it worth it? Really? This might be a demon she wanted to face, but it wasn’t necessary to face it right now. She could come back when she was ready. “Perhaps you should use your magic to find Werner,” she said.

  “Yeah.” Except he didn’t know if using his dugga’s magic would send him into convulsions. And if he was convulsing, he couldn’t protect Becca or summon a gate to get back home if anything happened to her, as well.

  “I see.” She squared her shoulders. “You’re right. If using your magic could incapacitate you or both of us, then don’t.”

  “I can go in myself and search.” He raised his hand to brush her arm, steal a whisper of contact, but managed to shove it into his coat pocket instead. “You don’t have to go in. I could also gate you back to Raven and return to search alone.”

  Something thumped inside, and two crows flew out a broken second-story window, screaming their complaint. Nero tensed and jerked his attention to the doorway. So did Becca.

  “Werner,” she said. Except it might not be him. Her thought was so strong, Nero almost mistook it for having been said out loud.

  “But it might be him.” From this angle, he could only see a few feet inside, even with his night sight. “If I can get within spotting distance, I’ll be able to tell if it’s him from his aura.”

  “It could also be anyone.” I
t could be Stanbury’s men, and we don’t have sidearms. Except if it was Stanbury’s men, how did they learn about this place?

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m hardly unarmed.”

  “You’ve done that twice now.” She leveled a glare at him that made his pulse rush with desire, likely the opposite of her intended effect.

  If she flashed a little teeth and growled, he might not be able to control himself.

  “Didn’t Raven say that was rude?” she asked.

  “Didn’t Raven what?” What was she talking about again?

  Listening to my thoughts, she thought, so loudly he wasn’t sure if she’d meant to think that at him or say that to him.

  “Yeah, well, you responded to mine as well. Or didn’t you notice?” But he pulled his essence back into a tight ball in hopes that would dim the connection between them. He’d done it back in the café. He’d just gotten distracted when they’d arrived here. Holy hell, had he gotten distracted. Jeez, this was embarrassing. “You okay to wait here?”

  She glared at him again. “I’m not waiting here. If it’s Werner, you’ll need me to convince him you’re not going to kill him. If it’s anyone other than Werner or a homeless person, you might need backup. In the very least, it’ll be easier to get out of here if we’re together.” She glanced through the doorway, then grabbed an arm-length piece of pipe and a flashlight that had been tucked tight against the frame on the floor.

  But if it’s a drag—

  “I can’t hear you,” she said, glaring at him, “but I know you’re thinking something. Your expression turned moody.” She flicked on the flashlight, stepped inside, and made room for Nero to move past and take the lead.

  “I was thinking if it’s a dragon, that pipe isn’t going to be much help.”

  “If it’s one of Stanbury’s men, it’ll do fine enough. At least until I can upgrade to a sidearm.”

  “When we get back to the house, you’re going to tell me about this Stanbury.” He strode past her, his night sight giving him a clear view of the debris and garbage littering the open area just inside the door. “You should also stick close.”

  “Yeah. I’ve always been pretty good at seeing in the dark, but this flashlight isn’t very bright and I don’t have magical night vision like some drakes.” She shuddered. “I just said that, didn’t I?”

  “You did, and yes, I do.” And please don’t let that overwhelm you. That was the second slip of knowledge she shouldn’t have. First was the likely truth about her friend’s impossible story and now this. Whatever mental barrier she’d created to protect herself was starting to come down and soon she’d be forced to fully face reality. Here was hoping it came slowly, not in a great overwhelming wave.

  “Good,” she said. “Lead the way. Those crows came from the second floor. There’s a set of stairs at the back. If you keep to the left, that’ll take you straight there.”

  He followed a narrow passage between the wall, towering shelves, and massive machinery to an open area at the back, where a rickety wooden staircase led up to the second floor. Pain still radiated through his skull, and the voices in Becca’s head were getting louder, making it impossible to listen for sounds of someone above.

  As much as he wanted whoever was there to be Becca’s friend, the odds weren’t in their favor. It was more likely the wind had knocked something over, and that was what had disturbed the crows. And once he’d confirmed that, he could take her back to the transition suites and hold her tight—

  No, leave her.

  His chest ached at the thought.

  God damn it. Concentrate. He had to get the hell away from her and regain his bearings.

  He stepped onto the first rickety stair as something tingled across his senses and made him pause. It was just a flicker. He wasn’t sure what. It felt like a human mage’s aura. Probably Becca’s. Except it didn’t feel like Becca’s.

  Movement at the edge of his vision caught his attention, and he jerked off the step into Becca. Taser barbs clattered against the cinderblock wall behind him, and half a dozen men in black tactical gear, helmets, and night vision goggles rushed into the open area with weapons drawn — two with Tasers, the rest with Glocks.

  Above, someone screamed, and Becca’s friend shoved another man in tactical gear through the railing at the top of the stairs. He landed with a sickening crunch on the concrete floor and didn’t move.

  “Werner,” Becca said.

  Werner’s gaze leapt to her then jumped to Nero, and his expression hardened. “Get away from her.”

  Two of the men with Glocks fired at Werner, forcing him to jerk back into the second story hall. More gunfire exploded from above, and someone screamed.

  Becca grabbed Nero’s arm — the voices vanished but pain roared in his skull. She wrenched him aside as two more Taser barbs hit the wall beside him.

  “We need cover.”

  “No.” He hissed his power word, sending more pain lancing into him, then slammed a gust of wind at the three closest men, crashing them into the side of a massive machine. “We need to get to your friend and get out of here.” On a good day, he could probably take all of them in a fight, but with the pain in his head and his soul howling to ensure Becca’s safety, he couldn’t afford to risk it. Retreat was the best option.

  “We’ll be sitting ducks running up those stairs,” she said.

  Another man in tactical gear staggered onto the second story landing. Werner kicked him in the gut and shoved him over the edge.

  Nero blasted more wind at the other two men on their level, but they’d tucked themselves behind more machinery and he couldn’t get in a good strike. He also couldn’t see the sixth man and was damned sure there’d been six before.

  “Werner, back door.” Becca turned away from the stairs and headed to a doorway half hidden behind a toppled shelf, her flashlight beam jumping over the floor before her as she ran. “This way.”

  A tremor swept through Nero’s left arm as he sent another gust at the men, forcing them to stay behind their cover, and raced after her. They scrambled into a cramped boiler room with enormous octopus boilers and tangles of pipes.

  There’s a second door into the two-story addition at the back, through here. She twisted to the side and slipped between a set of heavy pipes and another toppled metal shelving unit.

  The light from her flashlight vanished for a second, and Nero’s pulse sped faster.

  He snapped a lasso of wind around the shelf. His magic stuttered, dropped the shelf, then strengthened and reconnected. He ground his teeth and shoved the shelf aside to make room for him. Now wasn’t the time for his magic to fail. But the voices in Becca’s head had increased, as if the immediate needs of the fight had distracted her and she’d lost her concentration on keeping them quiet — or at least to a dull roar.

  Her will clenched tight as she rounded a concrete pillar lined with more snaking pipes. The voices dimmed, but the pain in Nero’s head increased and so did the tremor in his muscles. Her flashlight jerked up to shine on a closed door, thirty feet ahead of them, with a foggy glass window. She stumbled on something, her light dipped, and a man-sized shadow rushed up behind the glass.

  Werner? Becca caught her balance and raised her pipe.

  The door flew open, and a man in tactical gear aimed a Glock at her.

  23

  Nero’s pulse froze at the sight of the Glock pointed at Becca’s head. One shot and she’d be dead. But Becca lunged at the guy in the doorway before he could fire and cracked the pipe against his sidearm. A bang roared through the cramped room and debris on the floor jumped away from their feet as the bullet impacted the floor. She wrenched the pipe up and smashed it against the side of his head.

  The man staggered back, and Nero seized him with a wind whip and slammed him into the concrete pillar they’d just passed. Behind him, something crashed, and someone yelled. The rest of the tactical team was still after them.

  Becca leapt back from the doorway. “There’s more
coming from this way.” That makes what? Nine or ten?

  “I’d say, with the two your friend took out, at least a team of twelve.”

  “For me?”

  “Might be for your friend.” The earth magic he’d displayed during the fight outside the facility had looked dangerous. Probably some form of energy or soul consumption. But if he was that dangerous and they knew where to find him, it didn’t make sense to have waited so long to grab him.

  “This is a trap for me.” So I can end up being a trap for you. Her will tightened even more around him.

  Two men rushed toward them from around one of the boilers. The first guy knelt to help the man Nero had tossed into the pillar. The other raised his Taser.

  Nero sent a lurching gust at them, then jerked his attention to the office doorway, where three men had taken cover, one behind a pillar, the other two behind toppled filing cabinets. He and Becca were surrounded, and while he could summon a gate, he still needed a good few seconds to make it large enough for them to pass through. His gates didn’t rapidly form like Diablo’s, and that opened them up to an attack. He needed to get them some place safe.

  A gunshot exploded behind him and pain sliced through his chest. Becca screamed, and Nero blasted wind at the guys behind him. Someone yelled, and two more gunshots roared from the office in front of him while pain sliced his shoulder and thigh.

  Oh, God, he’s hit.

  “I’m fine. It’ll be healed in a few seconds.” And any internal injuries will heal within the hour, but we still have to get the hell out of here for me to summon a gate.

  The men in the boiler room scrambled closer. He swept another gust of wind, but it sputtered out before it hit them.

  Shit. “Tell me there’s another way out of here.” He ground his teeth, fighting past the pain, and willed his wind back into a gust that forced the men to take cover.

  “No.” But they want me alive. Becca lunged through the door into the office.