Planet Dragos: A Novella of the Elder Races

by Thea Harrison

  That woman. Dragos traced her face with one of his talons that refused to retract. That woman was the most familiar scent from the rooftop. He could feel it in his bones.

  Rune was as grim and closed down as Dragos, but aside from the strain of the situation, it was remarkable how easily they fell back into a working relationship.

  At one point Dragos stopped what he was doing to look at the other man. “I have missed you.”

  Rune’s gaze flared up to meet his. The expression in his eyes was raw. After a moment, he gave a short nod. “Too bad it had to be like this.”

  Dragos put his hand on the other man’s shoulder, pressing with his fingers. Too bad, indeed.

  When a text came, both of their phones pinged at once. Snatching up his phone, Dragos opened the message and stared at a photo of Pia and a skeletal Vampyre, both unconscious in what looked to be a cave that had been converted into a cell.

  The text came next. I wonder how things are going to go when the cellmates wake up?

  Rage and terror roared. Pia was trapped with a Vampyre who had been so drained she didn’t look human any longer.

  Rune’s face clenched. He whispered, “Goddamn them to hell.”

  Dragos growled, unable to speak. The need for violence flashed through his body. When Rune looked up, his expression changed.

  Advancing on Dragos, he snapped, “She wouldn’t! Dragos, she won’t. No—don’t lose control!”

  His words didn’t penetrate. Dragos looked around the large conference room that was strewn with computers, phones, files, and untouched food in take-out containers. It all looked alien and offensive to his animal nature. His body heated so that his clothes began to smoke. All he could think of was setting everything on fire.

  A hard blow hit him in the chest, knocking him back several feet. Even as he recovered his balance, Rune hit him again with the flat of his hand. The gryphon’s expression was hard, his jaw iron tight.

  “You listen to me,” he growled. “Carling would die before she laid a finger on Pia and the baby.”

  Dragos shoved Rune’s hand away. “The blood thirst,” he snapped. “They’ve pushed her to the edge of her resources.”

  “Don’t you think I can see what they’ve done to her? I know!” Rune roared. Tears sprang to his eyes. He got in Dragos’s face. “You’ve always had a prejudice against Carling! She’s too cunning and manipulative for you—because she’s just like you. Well, somehow we all found a way to love you anyway, you asshole, and you know why? Because we see something in you that is worth it, and it’s the same for Carling. I’ve staked my life on it. I know that woman inside and out. And she will. Not. Hurt. Pia. So get a grip. We’ve got to figure out how we’re going to respond.”

  Gradually Dragos calmed enough for Rune’s angry words to penetrate. “You’re right,” he said, very low. “I’ve not been fair to Carling.”

  “Damn right,” Rune snapped. The gryphon looked down at his phone, clenched in one hand. Angrily he swiped the tears from his face. “They are so fucking dead for this. I’m going to slaughter every one of them.”

  Dragos became aware that almost everyone had left the conference room except for Aryal, Graydon, and Bayne, who had watched the confrontation with sober attentiveness. With their mates taken, Rune and Dragos were not safe to be around, and the sentinels were watching them for signs of danger.

  Dragos forwarded the photo to them. “See if Grace or anybody else can get some kind of psychic hit off this. Find out if Khalil can transport to this place.”

  “Wouldn’t that be fucking amazing if the Djinn could drop us all in the middle of that scene?” Bayne said. “I’m on it.”

  As the big sentinel strode out, Dragos turned back to Rune. “If we provoke them, they might do worse to the women.”

  “Agreed,” Rune gritted.

  Dragos texted, Are you ready to talk terms?

  No reply. What could he say or do to break the icy impasse on the other end?

  You’re a murderous monstrosity that should have been hunted down and exterminated centuries ago.

  This whole thing was about him. Not Rune, not Carling, not Pia. Rune hadn’t even gotten a message from the kidnappers until now.

  He typed, I’m the one you want. Let the women go and take me instead. We can arrange a trade.

  The reply came back quickly. We’re almost ready for you. Wait for my word.

  Wait for your word? Dragos thought. A feral smile stretched his lips across hard teeth. Like hell I will.

  Finally he understood why Azrael had come to Las Vegas. He hadn’t welcomed Death’s presence before, but he did now.

  The dragon turned his attention back to the hunt.

  Bayne reported back. Khalil very much regretted he could not transport to the place in the photo. Something about the scene blocked his magic.

  Grace had much the same problem, but her message was more cryptic, and she came to deliver it in person. She was a pretty young woman with titian hair and a permanent limp from an old injury, and her lover Khalil stood protectively by her side.

  “This may not be useful,” the young Oracle said. “So I don’t want take too much of your time, but there’s something about us that isn’t in focus.”

  On the other side of the conference table, Dragos paced as he listened. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m trying to put it into words.” She looked frustrated and gestured at the whiteboard on one wall. “They are over there—wherever there is—and we can’t see them properly.”

  Rune bit out, “That’s not news.”

  “I know.” She gave him a compassionate glance. “Bear with me. I think the concept is important. All we have to do to see them better is… adjust our lens. It’s not just that they’re hidden. That’s on their side of things. I’m talking about our side of things.”

  Dragos frowned. “We are not doing something that we could be doing to see them better.”

  “Exactly,” the Oracle said. “There is something we are not seeing that we could be seeing. I keep getting a camera image—changing the focus. Changing how we see the focus. Maybe even changing who sees the focus. The point is, we either have information or an image of something that we are not seeing properly.”

  Dragos looked at Rune. “That’s a big difference from not having information.”

  “Yeah, okay.” Rune ran his fingers through his hair. “But what are we not seeing?”

  Dragos looked at Grace. “You said three things. Changing the focus, changing how we see the focus, and changing who sees the focus. And it’s all about the camera.”

  She blew out a frustrated sigh and lifted her hands. “That’s all I’ve got. I’m sorry, I wish it was more.”

  “Has everybody in the wedding party seen the video footage we have of the kidnappers?” he asked. Graydon’s mate Beluviel, who was also quite pregnant, was an elder from the Elven demesne in South Carolina and had once been one of the leaders. While there were Elven communities all over the world, and it was unrealistic to hope Bel could know all of them, the scar across the Elven woman’s face was distinctive, and it was worth a shot. “Collectively we all hold a great deal of information. Call everyone together. Have them go through the still photos and watch the footage.”

  It took almost an hour for all thirteen members of the wedding party to leave their various tasks and converge on the conference room, including Dr. Medina. Bel had been at the hospital, monitoring Eva’s progress, and she was one of the last to arrive.

  It was all Dragos could do to keep from snatching her up and physically plopping her into a seat. As soon as Bel stepped inside, he said, “Play the footage and pass the photos around.”

  This is probably a waste of time, Rune muttered telepathically.

  He shot a glare at the gryphon. We’ve got nothing else to try.

  He watched Bel intently. When the footage reached the part where one of the kidnappers slammed the butt of the gun into the back of Eva’s head, the beautiful wo
man winced. “Concentrate,” he said to her. “Do you recognize that Elf?”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t. Do you mind if I send one of the photos of her around to some people? Maybe to my stepson, Ferion?”

  Ferion was now Lord of the Elven demesne in South Carolina, and while Dragos would never be liked by the Elves, Pia was quite popular with them. They would care about her well-being.

  Dragos told Bel, “Please do—but only to those whose discretion you can rely upon. If we go too public with these photos, we might goad them into treating Pia and Carling with more cruelty.”

  “I understand.” She gave him a sober look.

  As she took pictures of several photos with her cell phone, he turned to the others. “The rest of you—do you see anything?”

  “We’re going to watch it again,” Rune said.

  No one complained. Every one of them pored over the footage and the photos, Grace too. Dragos sent all the Wyr up to the rooftop to see if any of them got a hit off the scents. As the day plummeted to evening, he summoned Dr. Medina over.

  “She had emergency syringes with her, but her purse isn’t with her in the photo,” he said in a low voice.

  Medina didn’t sugarcoat anything, which was something that Dragos normally liked about her. She told him, “I’ll assemble an emergency medical team to be on standby. If you have ever been inclined to bargain with a Djinn, now would be the time to do so.”

  He closed his eyes. There seemed to be no limit to the depths of this plunge. “Understood. Khalil?”

  Instantly, the Djinn left Grace’s side and crossed the room. “Yes?”

  “We need another Djinn. Your help is invaluable, but we need someone who will stay exclusively with Medina and her medical team.”

  Khalil’s physical form was that of a tall, imperious-looking man with long raven hair and the signature piercing, diamond-like eyes of the Djinn. He frowned. “My daughter is away. I will find someone suitable.”

  “Tell them the Lord of the Wyr will owe them a favor,” Dragos said.

  “No,” Grace said as she joined them. “I have so many Djinn who owe me favors, I will never be able to use them all in one lifetime. Let me do this for you.”

  “Thank you,” Dragos told her. “I won’t forget it.” Raising his voice, he spoke to everyone in the room. “I won’t forget how all of you have helped.”

  Sometime later, as he stood at one of the large picture windows watching the sunset, Beluviel stood so quickly her chair toppled over behind her. Dragos spun around.

  Waving her phone in the air, she said loudly, “I’ve got it! I’ve got her name! A member of Ferion’s council recognized her. It’s Caerlovena!”

  Duncan and Seremela looked at each other, their expressions flaring with excitement. Duncan said, “We know that name, although we never met her. She was in Devil’s Gate when we were there.”

  “Where’s Devil’s Gate?” Rune leaped at a computer console and began typing.

  “It’s in northwest Nevada. There’s a kind of modern-day gold rush going on out there—only what people are looking for is magic-sensitive silver. We negotiated with Malphas there and got Seremela’s niece out of some serious trouble.”

  In another part of the room, Luis rubbed his mouth and said, “That ‘gold rush’ has been going on ever since Claudia and I uncovered the slave ring where they were mining in Nirvana. I heard they’ve been building an actual town in Devil’s Gate.”

  Dragos had heard of it too. He always paid attention to anything involving precious metals and jewels. But at the moment none of that mattered. The only thing that did matter was the snick he felt as the information came together. Now he understood what Grace meant by coming into focus.

  Rune said with fierce triumph, “I’ve got latitude and longitude coordinates.”

  “Caerlovena,” the dragon breathed. Smoke poured out of his mouth and swirled around the conference-room floor.

  In that moment there was nothing sweeter than the taste of his prey’s name on his lips.

  Chapter Seven

  The constant scrape scrape scrape of the arrow against the concrete was driving Pia bonkers, but she didn’t complain because it looked like Carling might actually be making some progress.

  The Vampyre kept brushing bits of debris into a careful pile with one skeletal hand. It seemed she had some use for it, and as the sun set, she appeared to gain some strength and energy.

  Pia breathed through the contractions and tried to time them as she watched Carling work. It was impossible to get any kind of accurate time without a watch, of course, but she counted up the rhythmic scrapes and did her best to estimate.

  Maybe she was having Braxton–Hicks contractions. The past couple of days had certainly been stressful enough. She might not be going into real labor yet.

  She held on to that hope until the baby gave a gigantic kick. Suddenly she had to go to the bathroom urgently, and she struggled to her feet to rush over to the bucket. Just as she squatted, a deluge of liquid gushed out.

  Carling spun around, focusing on her with laser-like intensity. “Your water broke, didn’t it?” the Vampyre said. “I can smell blood.”

  Near to tears, Pia nodded as she tried to readjust her clothes. She’d gotten lucky. Most of the liquid had ended up in the bucket, but she was still damp in places. “I guess I’ve been in labor for a couple of hours.”

  As she straightened, the cave spun around her. Carling sprang to her side and grabbed her by the elbows.

  Helping her to ease down to the ground again, Carling exclaimed, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “There wasn’t anything anybody could do.” Pia curled on her side. “I kept hoping they were Braxton–Hicks.” She had grown a little easier around the Vampyre’s feral red gaze, but not by much.

  Carling said, “Maybe if I can get someone’s attention, they’ll give us some supplies. Towels, fresh water. Hot water if we can talk them into it.”

  As Carling started to stand, Pia lunged upward to grab her arm. “No, don’t! The last time I came to Caerlovena’s attention, she shot at me. The only reason the baby and I are still alive is because we got lucky. What if you hadn’t been able to catch the arrow in time? What if next time she brings a gun and empties a clip at us?”

  Carling looked around the wretched cave. Aside from a little water left in the plastic jug, they had nothing. Watching the Vampyre grind her teeth was a macabre experience.

  “Fine,” she said. “I understand. I’m going to make some cloth strips. We’ll need something to swaddle the baby with, and hopefully we’ll have enough to give you a pad afterward.”

  “Neither one of us is wearing shorts—yet. And I’ve got a bra. I can lose my top without having to go bare naked.” Pia pushed herself upright again and pulled off her tunic.

  “I don’t need my top either, and I don’t have a modern sense of modesty. I don’t have any problem going nude if the situation warrants it. How far apart are your contractions?”

  “I don’t know. Not too far.” She rubbed her face with a shaking hand.

  Carling said in steady voice, “We’re going to get through this, Pia. Women give birth all the time during war. They give birth in farm fields and ditches. I’ve attended many births before, and I know what to do. I understand this isn’t what anybody would have wanted for you, but it’s going to be okay.”

  “Got it.” Carling’s words did help. A contraction was coming. Pia gritted her teeth. “If they can do it, I can do it. I’ve survived Dragos’s bout of amnesia and a zombie apocalypse. I can give birth to Stinkpot in a cave if I have to.”

  “That’s my girl.” Using her sharp white fangs, Carling tore her own top into strips, then started on Pia’s. “We need to swaddle the baby and have enough afterward to strap him to your torso. I want you able to get on your feet and run if we get the chance.”

  A snort escaped Pia as she looked at the bars. “You’re going to have to do a lot of digging to get my fat ass out o
f here. I think I might be a three-bar heist.”

  The Vampyre gave a ghost of a chuckle. “The shape I’m in right now, I’m probably a one-bar heist, especially if I can bend the neighboring bar a little. All I need to do is make sure I have enough space to get my head through. If I can do that, I can wiggle out.”

  Pia realized she had gone from being afraid of Carling to being grateful for the other woman’s presence. Giving birth was not clean or dignified. Soon she was going to be at the mercy of her own body, and the conditions they were in were appalling, but somehow Carling’s steady pragmatism turned the whole nightmare into something that was somewhat bearable.

  Then a remarkably disgusting thought occurred to her, but she set her teeth against the urge to gag. Carling was starving. They didn’t have room for niceties. She met the other woman’s gaze. “There’ll be a lot of blood in the afterbirth.”

  “Yes, there will.” The Vampyre smiled in approval.

  “If you manage to dislodge one of those bars, you need to go ahead without me,” Pia told her. “Don’t stay here, not if you can get out. You could feed and regain some of your strength. You might be able get hold of a cell phone.”

  “Also, if I can get away from these magic-dampening bars, I could cast spells.” Carling rolled the strips into rolls. “All very good points. I need to get back to digging. Rest when you can, walk around if it helps, and let me know when the contractions are very close together or when you can’t control the urge to push.”

  “Okay.”

  She watched Carling get back to work.

  Inside the cave, the shadows were deepening. Outside looked a bit lighter, closer to dusk than full night. She had gotten used to the background noise of people hammering and working. At one point they brought a crane in to lift the top part of the dragon into place. Its wooden head was almost at the level of the cave entrance.

  When the activity had stopped, it had seemed too quiet, but respite from noise was brief.