by Lili Zander
“Straight to the point. I like that.”
I don’t care what this guy likes or dislikes. All I care is that he drops money into my bank account. “What do you want me to do?”
“Not over the phone. Meet me at the Central Park Carousel in fifteen minutes.”
A trickle of unease rolls down my spine. This feels like trouble. Every instinct in my body is screaming at me to stay away. “I can’t get there that quickly,” I protest.
“Of course you can, Aria,” he replies. “You’re at Preston Memorial right now, gazing down at Papa Wolf’s face. Room 403, if my sources are right, and they usually are. Google tells me it’s a seventeen-minute walk, but I’m sure you’ll hurry, given the situation. See you soon, my dear.”
My sense of danger intensifies, but like I said. I’m out of options. I’m going to the Carousel.
9
Aria
It’s freezing outside. Still dark at six. I race through the streets, slipping on the ice and almost face-planting more than once. When I get to the octagonal brick building that houses the carousel, it’s locked tight, and nobody is in sight.
Or so it appears.
I take a deep calming breath, close my eyes, and open my senses the way Silas taught me to do when I was fifteen. “Is it magic?” I’d asked him excitedly, the first time I was able to feel a disturbance around me. “Am I a Jedi?”
He’d snorted with laughter. “You’re not a Jedi, little cub. You’re just learning to listen to your instincts, that’s all. It’s not magic.”
It had felt like magic though. It still does.
Sorrow surges through me, too close to the surface. With ruthless determination, I push it back, burying it deep in my heart. When all of this is over, when Silas is cured, I will allow myself to cry. Until then, I’m as hard as steel, as sharp as a blade’s edge.
I am Endellion. I am Fire. I am the sword of my dreams.
There. A few paces from the carousel building, hidden in the clump of snow-covered trees. One man. Shifter. I pivot so I’m looking directly at the spot he’s hidden, and open my eyes. I can’t see him, but I know he’s there.
“Fifteen minutes, you said. Here I am.”
A shadow moves in the dark, and the man walks into the clearing. Moonlight falls on his face—no full moon, tonight, thank heavens, or else I’d be wolf kibble—as he takes a step toward me. “Norm,” he says slowly. “But shifter-trained. An intriguing combination.”
I can’t tell how old he is. He could be forty, he could be eighty. His shoulder-length brown hair is dark and falls around his face, and his beard is bushy and full. He looks harmless. Until I make contact with his eyes.
Then I realize I’m looking at a ruthless killer.
I lift my chin. “The job.”
He surveys me with eyes that look like death. I center myself, letting calm flow through me. Shifters can sense fear, and I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of seeing mine.
“Very well. The job. Exactly one week from today, there will be a party at the Park Hyatt. A gala affair, thrown by Lord Bastian Jaeger.”
Of course I know the name. I don’t live under a rock. Bastian Jaeger is many things. Billionaire. One of the most eligible men in the entire country. And, most importantly, Dragon Prince.
Shifters have a saying. Mess with dragons once? You’re lucky if you live. Mess with them twice? A quick death is your best option.
Why? Because dragons like to play with their food.
The nameless shifter pauses to assess my reaction. Ice fills me, and it’s not just because it’s the middle of winter. Then I remember Silas lying on the hospital bed, frail and gaunt, and my resolve hardens again. Stiffening my spine, I incline my head and wait for him to continue.
He gives me a look of grudging respect. “For the first time in over twenty years, all five dragon princes will be seen in public together.”
All five? Holy crap. Half the world’s wealth is going to be in that room next Saturday. My palms grow itchy with temptation. Thought after thought races through my mind. If the dragon princes are throwing a party, every rich debutante in the country—the world—is going to be there. Every gold-digger. They’ll all be dressed in their best.
I don’t need this shifter’s job. I’ll make a fortune liberating the wealthy socialites from their diamonds.
Of course, I can’t let him know what I’m thinking. “So what?” I deliberately make myself sound bored. I’m twenty-three. This guy probably already thinks I’m a spoiled millennial. As long as he keeps believing it, I’ll be laughing all the way to the bank.
“The dragons are traveling with something. There’s a safe in their penthouse. I want what’s inside it.”
I don’t have to be a genius to spot the big, gaping hole in this plan. “They’re dragons. They’ll be able to sense my attempts.”
His lips tip into a humorless smile. “They’ll be on guard against a magical. You, on the other hand, are Norm. You might slip through the cracks.” His voice turns crisp. “One million dollars. Twenty thousand now, so you can pay Silas’ hospital bill. The rest when you get me what I need.”
With the money I have in my bank account, twenty thousand dollars will pay for Silas’ next two plasma exchanges. And the millions in diamonds I intend to steal next Saturday will pay for the rest.
“Okay. I’m in.”
He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a small ring box. I flip it open to see a bright green emerald winking at me. The gemstone is huge, almost filling the box. “Twenty thousand dollars,” the shifter says. “You’ll know where to fence it, of course.”
Of course. I’m out of the game, but I’m not dead.
“Oh, and Aria?” Those cruel eyes linger over me. “If you’re thinking of double-crossing me, I’d strongly recommend you reconsider. One word from me and Dr. Brown will inject nine grams of secobarbital into Silas Archer’s heart.”
Dr. Brown. That nice woman. She works for this maniac.
So much for my plan to liberate the party guests from their baubles.
I am about to steal from the five Dragon Princes. I must have a death wish.
10
Aria
I have seven days to figure out how to do the impossible.
Compared to this job, MagLab was easy, and yet I’d almost got caught. Somewhere in the preparation, I’d missed that the facility was being guarded by panther shifters.
I can’t afford mistakes this time.
I thread my way back to Preston Memorial. The tall skyscrapers around me create a wind tunnel, and the cold air has a bitter sting to it. I pull my coat around me and look around for a coffee shop. I’m functioning on almost no sleep, and I need caffeine.
I’ve never been to the Park Hyatt—why would I? I work a minimum-wage retail job. If Silas weren’t lucky enough to have a rent-controlled two-bedroom apartment in Hell’s Kitchen, I’d be commuting all the way from Brooklyn, like Bea. I’m a card-carrying member of the working poor. The Park Hyatt might as well be the moon.
There’s one lone coffee shop open near Columbus Circle. I stand in line, shuffling my feet impatiently. It’s just after six on a Saturday morning, for heaven’s sake. Where did all these people come from?
“Large coffee, please.” No soy-venti-mocha-whatever for me; I have simple tastes.
The barista gives me a once-over, a faintly disgusted expression on her face. I must be a sight. Long shift at the mall, then drinks at the Cellar, then the ER, and I haven’t glanced in a mirror in hours. No wonder everyone’s edging away from me. I probably smell gross.
Ah well. Such is life.
I pay for my coffee and tip half of it down my throat. Dragons are the most powerful magicals on Earth. I don’t know what kind of security they’ll have in their suite, but it’s safe to say it’s going to be pretty top-of-the-line.
I need a plan. I’ll need tech and possibly magic as well. Silas has always been the hacker, but for obvious reasons, I can’t
ask him for help. I’ll need to figure out how to get into the Park Hyatt—I doubt that I’m going to be able to waltz into the front door and take an elevator all the way to the Dragon Lords’ penthouse—and I need a disguise or a cover of some sort.
But first, I need to fence this emerald. Once I check in on Silas, it’s time to visit Mariana.
Mariana Dupree reminds me of the Oracle in the Matrix. She’s got the same maternal air, the same helpless little-old-lady persona, and the same tendency to give you bad news with a sweet smile on her face. She doesn’t bake though. Pity.
I take the A-line to Harlem, where Mariana runs a twenty-four-hour convenience store. It’s a front. The Creole bear shifter is the best acquirer in the business. Whatever you want, Mariana can get it for you. At a price.
She’s a pretty decent fence too. She won’t touch magical stolen goods—I prefer to die of natural causes, cherie, she said when I asked her about it—but there’s no one better for jewelry or gemstones.
Her face breaks out into a smile when I enter her store. “Here’s a sight for sore eyes. Bonjour, cherie.” She beckons me nearer. “I heard about Silas,” she says softly when I slide up to the counter. “You need anything?”
If I thought Mariana had any money, I’d have knocked on her door six months ago. I’m proud, but not when it comes to Silas’ health.
“It’s under control.” I look around. There’s a trio of teenage boys in the back, furtively examining the beer selection. Not a single one of them looks a day over fifteen, but if they’re anything like me at that age, they have fake ID. “I have something for you.”
Her gaze flickers over the boys. “Let me find Charlie,” she says, her eyes twinkling. “He always enjoys giving the kids a scare.”
My lips twitch. “I’m sure you were drinking when you were fifteen.”
“Mais oui, but only under my mama’s watchful eyes. She’d have come after me with a horsewhip if she’d caught me trying anything outside the house.”
She goes to the back to find her son, and I try to picture Mariana as a teenager. Instead, my thoughts go to last night. To the two men I met at the Cellar.
With everything that’s happened since then, last night feels so unreal. Dancing with two guys, making out with both of them… In the clear light of day, I can’t explain what got over me. Was it drinking wine straight out of the bottle? Did the sickly-sweet pink cocktail pack a punch? Or was it the after-effects of Tall, Dark, and Deadly threatening me?
It has to be one of those, because I’m not in the habit of picking up two hot guys at a bar. I’m not being Judgy McJudgyface—guys just don’t come up to me. I scare them away, according to Bea. I have RBF. Resting Bitch Face.
Rhys and Mateo hadn’t been afraid. Quite to the contrary. They’d acted like women never say ‘no’ to them. And let’s be honest. Women outnumber men two-to-one in the city, and the two men were gorgeous. I doubt they’ve ever been turned down in their lives.
Charlie emerges from the back, giving me a friendly smile. “Long time, Aria,” he says. “You staying out of trouble?”
“Sure.” I lie, going around the counter and entering the small back room. Pulling the emerald out of my pocket, I hold it out to Mariana. “It’s supposed to be worth twenty grand.”
She opens her desk drawer and pulls a jeweler’s loupe out. Putting it on, she examines the gemstone I hand her. “You’re not wrong. A lovely stone. Is it stolen?”
Since when did it matter? “Not by me. It’s an advance payment for a job.”
She looks up at that. “Tell me,” she orders.
I trust Mariana implicitly. “The targets are dragons,” I warn. “If I don’t tell you anything else, you have plausible deniability.”
“Dragons?” She goes pale. “I can’t talk you out of this, can I?”
“Silas is sick, Mariana.” I hold my hand out for the emerald. “I’ll understand if you want me to take this elsewhere.”
She recovers her composure. “Don’t be dramatic, cherie. It’s not a good look on you.” She waves to a chair, and I take a seat. “What do you need?”
My eyes are scratchy, and my mouth feels like it’s stuffed with cotton wool. Lack of sleep is making me stupid. “I don’t know yet. All I know is that there’s a party at the Park Hyatt next Saturday.”
Her head snaps up. “The Valhalla Ball,” she says flatly. “You’re trying to steal from the five Dragon Princes.”
Man, I have got to spend less time in my room reading and more time out and about. I’ve never heard of this party, and Mariana is acting like everyone should know about it. “What’s the Valhalla Ball?”
She rolls her eyes. “Being Norm is no excuse for not knowing,” she says sternly. “Every year, the dragon princes mark the seasons with four celebrations. The Valhalla Ball on the winter solstice. The Olympus Ball on the summer solstice. The Annwn Gala is held on the spring equinox, and the Duat in the fall.”
I lean forward, fascinated. “The names,” I mutter. “Valhalla is the Hall of the Fallen, where Odin houses the warriors he deems worthy. Annwn is the Otherworld in Welsh mythology, a world of delights and eternal youth. Olympus is the mountain where the Greek gods live, and the Duat is the ancient Egyptian realm of the dead.”
Mariana gives me a questioning look, and I shrug sheepishly. “I like mythology. Tell me about this party.”
“Nobody has ever stolen from the dragon princes, Aria.”
“I’m Norm,” I reply. “They’ll be watching out for magicals. It gives me an edge.”
Her expression fills with pity. Before she can try to dissuade me again, I hold up my hand. “I’m going to do this,” I tell her. “If you don’t want to help me…”
She sighs. “Fine. First thing. This is a magical party. You’re Norm, you’ll stand out.”
Pieter can take care of that with his magic tattoos. “Okay. What else?”
“Dragon magic is ancient and powerful,” she says. “They keep their abilities hidden, guarding their secrets like the treasure they hoard, but one thing is known. Unlike the other magicals, dragons cannot be sensed.”
“What do you mean?”
“Shifters can’t hide who they are. Dragons can.”
Wow, I’m really unprepared for this job. I know next to nothing about dragons. Ah, well. I have six days to learn what I need. “Security?”
“The entire building is on lockdown that night. No one enters unless they’re on a list.”
“I thought I’d infiltrate the staff.”
She shakes her head. “It’s too late for that. No new hires this close to the event.”
“Steal one of their keycards, maybe?” It worked at MagLab. I drain the last of my coffee.
“The dragon princes will be using fingerprint scanners. No, your easiest way in is an invitation.”
“You can get me on the list?” I do some calculations in my head. I’ll need at least fifteen thousand for the hospital. Maybe even all twenty. Ambulance rides and emergency rooms are ruinously expensive. But there’s still ten grand in my bank account. “How much?”
“Consider it a gift,” she replies. Her voice goes quiet. “Silas did me a favor once, a long time ago.”
There’s a lump in my throat. “Thank you.”
She looks uncomfortable at my gratitude. “You’ll need to dress up.” She waves a hand in my direction. “Every woman there is hoping to catch the attention of the Dragon Princes.”
“I can do that.” The vague seeds of a plan are taking shape. I get in as a party guest. Slip out during the party, sneak upstairs to the penthouse, crack open the safe, and back down to the party.
“I can’t risk doing recon this close to the party,” I think out loud. “I don’t want to get red-flagged. I’ll need floor plans.”
“I’ll have to buy those,” the bear-shifter replies. “They won’t be cheap.”
“It can’t be helped.”
We spend another thirty minutes talking through all the things I
need, and then I get to my feet, shoving the stack of bills the fence gives me into my backpack. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your help.”
“Just don’t get caught, Aria.”
11
Erik
I’m used to impulsive behavior from Rhys. But Mateo? You think he’d have more common sense.
“Tell me why I’m following some random wolf shifter’s trail,” I grumble as we walk up 8th Avenue.
“Because you’re the best tracker of all of us,” Mateo says, flashing me a grin. “Come on, Valder. Smile. You’re scaring everyone on the street.”
I give him a quelling glare, but I have to acknowledge the truth of his words. These damn parties always put me in a bad mood. Bastian believes our mates are out there somewhere. For the last two hundred years, we’ve thrown four of these stupid balls every year.
And by Odin, the evenings are painful. The women giggle and simper, but their gazes are covetous. They’re thinking of dragon treasures. The five of us are among the richest men on Earth, and that brings out the gold-digger in every woman.
When I see them, all I can remember is Gisele. The love of my life. Dragon, fiery and passionate. She’d been pregnant when she flew into an ambush, and Gideon’s assassins had slaughtered her and her honor guard.
She filled the world with color and laughter. Ever since her death, only grey remains.
If it weren’t for the curse, I would remain in my estates, brooding about everything I’ve lost. Unfortunately, I have responsibilities. I am a Dragon Prince, after all.
I follow the faint scent of the shifter from the bar where Valentini and Griffith ran into him all the way to a hospital. Mateo frowns when he reads the sign. “Preston Memorial,” he says. “Why would he come here?”
“Was he injured?”
He shakes his head. “Not when he left the bar. Did he get into a fight?”
“I’m not sure.” I dial Bastian, who has lived in Manhattan for more than thirty years and knows the city like the back of his hand. “What do you know about Preston Memorial?” I ask when he picks up.