by Linsey Hall
The museum was empty at that hour, with not a single soul around. It was almost soothing.
I leaned toward him. “This is surprisingly normal for us.”
“Almost like a date,” Tarron said.
“You’d take me to a museum on a date?”
“Literally anywhere on a date would be good with you.”
I smiled up at him.
He grinned down at me, but his smile faltered. He grimaced and staggered, gasping, “Get away.”
Oh no.
His eyes went gold, shot through with black.
“Tarron.” I gripped his arms. “Come back to me.”
He groaned, his fists clenching. “Get back.”
“No. Fight it!”
His face twisted, and he shuddered.
“You can do this.” I shoved him back against a wall, hard enough that his head smacked.
He just growled lower.
I pressed myself against him, kissing him as hard as I could.
He went still, then pulled back, gasping.
His eyes were green once more.
“Are you all right?” he asked. “Did I hurt you?”
“No.”
“That was too close.”
“We’re also getting closer to a solution. A permanent one. I can feel it.”
His jaw tightened and he nodded. “Let’s keep looking.”
He slipped around me, moving deeper into the museum. Every time I got close to his side, he moved away. I supposed it was to be expected, though.
A moment later, I spotted a map room. I grabbed Tarron’s hand, ignoring his flinch, and pulled him along. “Let’s check here.”
The room was small and dark, with big wooden cases full of maps. Reproductions, probably, given their age and the fact that we were allowed to sort through them.
It took a few minutes of searching, but finally we found a map of the city from the late medieval period. The lines were faint and the drawing faded, but it revealed endless narrow passages through the ancient buildings.
“This has potential,” I said.
As if she’d heard me, my sister’s voice whispered out of the comms charm around my neck. “Mari? Where are you?”
I pressed my fingers to the charm. “Map room. I might be onto something.”
“Me too.”
“Do we need to come there?”
“No. I don’t think so. We’ll come to you.”
I continued to study the map, but there were so many buildings that it was impossible to tell which might be important enough to contain our ghost. She arrived a few moments later, leaning over the map and pointing to the huge stone wall that ringed the city. “Here.”
“The wall?”
“No. Rooms within the walls. We saw models of them in the diorama room. Apparently, there are prison cells built right into the city walls.”
“Ah, and that’s what the abbot said.” I nodded. “The ghost would be found within the city walls.”
“We interpreted it to mean that he was in one of the buildings contained within the walls.” A grin flashed across Tarron’s face, and I wished desperately that he’d be well again so I could enjoy his smiles without worrying what was coming after.
The four of us leaned over the massive map, searching the image of the huge circular wall that surrounded the city.
Tarron spotted it first. He pointed to a widened section of the wall that looked like it was filled with bubbles. “Those must be the cells.”
“Agreed.” I straightened. “Let’s check them out.”
By the time we made it out of the museum, the streets were full. People bustled between the crowded little buildings, and we had to dodge around them as we hurried up the cobblestone lane. Magic sparked on the air, and tiny pixies flitted about. York was one of the most magical cities in England, and it showed.
It didn’t take us long to reach the portion of the city wall where it widened enough to accommodate cells. Stairs led all the way up to the top of the wall so people could walk around the top of it, but I had eyes only for the middle portion.
“I don’t see a way to get in.”
“Neither do I.” Aeri stopped next to me, staring up at the wall.
“Partway up the stairs, there’s an alcove into the castle wall,” Tarron said.
I moved slightly so I could see it. “Definitely it.”
We hurried toward the stairs, and I raced up, taking them two at a time. There was indeed an alcove right by the stairs, with a huge wooden door set deep into it.
A massive metal padlock looked like it hadn’t been opened in decades. Centuries, maybe.
“I’ve got it.” Tarron pressed his hand to the metal, which flamed red, then orange. Finally, it melted into a puddle on the stone step.
Tarron pushed open the door, which creaked ominously.
“Perfect for ghosts,” Aeri whispered.
I stifled a small laugh, which was probably as much nerves as it was humor.
The hallway within was dark and narrow—and only about six feet deep. It led to another door, which wasn’t locked.
A sense of anticipation streaked through me as I approached it. My heart thundered and my skin warmed.
Excitement surged.
What the hell?
I had no idea why I felt this way, but it was unmistakable.
There was something past that door that I really wanted to see. I could sense it.
My breathing was harsh by the time I reached the door and pressed my hand to it.
“Mari, slow down,” Tarron said. “We don’t know what’s back there.”
I didn’t listen. I couldn’t.
There was no way to explain what I was feeling. I just had to get into that room.
Aeri joined me, moving just as quickly. I swore I could sense her excitement, too.
“Do you feel it?” I asked.
“I do. What the hell is it?”
“I don’t know.”
Together, we pushed the door open and found ourselves in a small but beautifully decorated cell. A nice bed, a bookshelf, and beautiful art covered the wall.
And just one chair.
The ghost of a man sat upon it.
I stepped into the room, my heartbeat going wild. Aeri pushed in beside me.
He stood.
We stopped.
Holy fates.
It was like looking in the mirror at an older, more masculine version of myself. Or Aeri. The bone structure was the same.
“Holy fates,” Aeri said beside me.
Shock lanced me, ice through my veins, followed by fear and joy and every emotion I could name. I’d never seen him before—not in my memory, at least. But it was so obvious that it was him.
“Father?” I asked, my voice whispery.
Aeri squeezed my hand. I swallowed hard.
The man’s jaw slackened slightly. “Daughters.”
Holy fates, holy fates, holy fates.
My father was the ghost of the Dragon Blood. That’s why the abbot had looked at me funny.
Tarron came to stand next to me, and Declan joined Aeri.
I was so shocked I could barely process what was happening.
Tears gleamed in my father’s eyes, and he looked as shocked as I felt.
“I never meant to leave you,” he blurted.
Oh, thank fates. It was a question that I hadn’t realized I’d been thinking. But I had been.
“I’m Mari.”
“I’m Aeri.”
He raised his hands. “I would embrace you if I could.”
“What happened?” Aeri asked.
“I was killed shortly after your birth.”
“By my mother?” I asked.
“No. I was killed here, in York. But it is a story for another time. I need you to know, however, that I never meant to leave you.”
I squeezed Aeri’s hand tight. I believed him. She glanced at me. From the look in her eyes, she believed him, too.
“You are bo
und here?” Aeri asked.
He nodded. “Only the magic of this place can keep me on the earthly plane.”
“Is it a coincidence that we’re looking for the Dragon Bloods and our father is the keeper of their location?” I asked.
“No, indeed not. There are many others that you could have asked. But fate would have you come here, to me.”
Of course. When I’d asked my sense of premonition to help me find answers, of course it would lead me to the route that was closest to my heart.
“Come.” My father started toward a tapestry on the back wall. He flicked it aside and revealed a hidden door. “We will sit.”
“Are you a prisoner here?” Aeri asked.
“Here?” he looked around. “No. These are my chambers, undisturbed by the outside world.” He shot Tarron a look. “Until you destroyed the lock.”
Tarron inclined his head. “My apologies. I will fix it.”
“Thank you. See that you do.”
I gestured to Tarron. “This is Tarron, King of the Seelie Fae. And Declan, a Fallen Angel.”
My father’s keen eyes studied the two men, then he nodded and turned to the door. He opened it and stepped through.
We followed him into another small stone room. In the center sat an ornate round table, dark wood decorated with the heavy carvings that I associated with the medieval period. This room was also lined with tapestries, and I got the impression that my father had never fit into the modern world.
“Are you content here?” I asked.
“Very.” He inclined his head. “I chose to stay, to have this task.” He hesitated. “So that I might one day see you two.”
My throat tightened. In all the misery of the last few months, I hadn’t even thought to hope for something like this.
It was a gift.
My father sat, and the rest of us joined him. When he spoke, his voice was heavy. “You are looking for the Dragon Bloods, then.”
“Yes,” Aeri said. “We have your power.”
“Then why do you seek them? Most descendants of the original dragons never look for them. It’s incredibly dangerous.”
“We don’t have a choice,” I said. “My mother has escaped her imprisonment and is coming after Tarron’s kingdom. She’s already poisoned the Unseelie Court, and the Seelie Court will be next.”
“We need to save them both,” Tarron said.
I leaned forward. “I believe the only way to do that is to find the Dragon Bloods and request more power. I need to become stronger.”
My father frowned. “I’m not sure that is how it works.”
“They gave me this power,” I insisted. “They can give me more—enough that I can become like her. Strong enough to defeat her.”
“She’s impossibly strong,” my father said. “But becoming like her… I do not think that is the answer.”
“I need more strength, though. And we need to heal Tarron.”
My father looked at Tarron, then nodded. “The curse on you is strong.”
“Can you tell us how to find the Dragon Bloods, then?” I begged. “How do we find the Slate Isles? What are they?”
My father sighed. “The Slate Isles are a series of islands off the coast of Western Scotland, near the little town of Ellenabeich. They are made of the same slate that roofs many of the houses all over the world.”
“They’re quarry islands?” Tarron asked.
“A few of them are,” my father said. “The ones closest to land. They’re torn up from the quarrying, but that just makes them better cover for the dragons. Humans believe that the stone is quarried by other humans. When in fact, it’s quarried by magic before it’s sold on the mainland. But it’s the main islands that you are interested in. They are also torn up—but by the activity of the dragons.”
“Real dragons?” I’d heard the myths about our origin—that we shared the blood of dragons. But I’d never known—and had no one to ask—what that really meant. How did a human get Dragon Blood?
“Yes,” my father answered. “Real dragons. Some of them can adopt human form. Perhaps all can, but choose not to. I have had precious few opportunities to visit in my life, and even then, I did not learn all their secrets.”
“How do we find them?” Aeri asked.
“There is a portal in the crypts of York Minster. Enter it just before dawn tomorrow, using this.” He flicked his hand, and a shiny black flake appeared in it. He passed it across the table to us.
I leaned over to look at it. “A dragon scale?”
“Appropriate, is it not?”
“It is. But what does it do?”
“You’ll figure it out.”
“What happens when we exit the portal?” Aeri asked.
“You’ll need to catch a ride. Find the sleeping stone dragon, and from there, it is up to you. But be sure that you approach the islands with his help—and only during the daylight. The dragons would not take kindly to uninvited visitors in the dark. That’s when thieves sneak in, and dragons are notoriously protective of their treasure.”
“Will they welcome us?” I asked.
“That is difficult to say,” my father said. “They are used to their solitude. But they lend help when it is needed. Not that it is easy to obtain. You must prove yourself.”
The seriousness in his voice made me swallow hard. It would not be easy.
“Can we come back and visit you?” Aeri asked.
It was the question I’d had on my mind as well.
He nodded. “I would like that.”
Wow. I smiled. “Thanks.”
“No, thank you.”
We said our goodbyes and left. It was getting dark already.
“We need to find a place to get some sleep.” Aeri looked at me. “It’d be better if you saved your powers and didn’t transport us back to Magic’s Bend.”
I nodded.
“I know a place,” Tarron said. “An inn. It’s old, but charming.”
“Lead the way.” I took his hand.
He almost pulled away, and from the worried look in his eyes, I understood why.
I gripped him tighter, leaning close to murmur, “I can handle myself.”
“Not if your mother gets control of me.”
I shivered, but didn’t let go. “I can handle that, too.”
The inn was close, located down a narrow street right near the massive York Minster cathedral where we would be able to find the portal in the morning. A sign hung out over the door that read The Guy Fawkes Hotel.
“Was it really his house?” I asked, thinking of the famous plotter who’d tried to assassinate King James I.
“They say he was born here.” Tarron stepped inside the tiny foyer, and I followed him in.
The space opened up to a little pub on the left. The small wooden bar gleamed. Behind the counter, an impressive gin selection shined beneath the lights. A young bartender looked up and smiled. He reminded me of Connor, with his floppy dark hair and T-shirt.
As Tarron approached and arranged for two rooms, Aeri squeezed into the foyer next to me.
“Can you believe that just happened?” she whispered.
“I really can’t.” I grinned at her. “I’m glad though.”
She hugged me. “Me too.”
It wasn't just us anymore. Now, we had our father.
Sure, he was a ghost who lived within the medieval prison of York, but I’d take it.
Tarron returned from the bar and held up three keys.
“Three?” I frowned.
“For me.” His tone brooked no argument, and I didn’t bother. As much as I trusted him, he was right—the false queen and her magic were to be feared. “The staff will bring up dinner to us. We’ll sleep, then head out early.”
I nodded and followed him up the creaking stairs. Declan and Aeri went into their room, and I followed Tarron into his.
He turned to me, his brow creased. “We’re sleeping alone.”
“I know. But I can still eat dinner wi
th you.”
A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “I’d like that.”
The room itself was beautiful, with a vaulted ceiling and round windows overlooking a little courtyard filled with tables.
Tarron pulled me toward him. “Are you sure about this?”
“What? Going to see the Dragon Bloods?”
“Yes. And asking them to make you more like your mother. That’s your goal, isn’t it?”
“To be as powerful as her—yes. Not evil. But I need to be able to fight fire with fire.”
“I’m not sure that’s the best idea. That seems like it would just create more fire.”
“I can control it.” I clenched my fists. “And if the Dragon Bloods don’t think that is a solution, they’ll have another one. I know they will.”
“You know, or you’re desperate?”
“Maybe both.” I reached up and held his face. “I’d do anything to save you.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
He was worried I’d risk my life for his.
Of course I would.
I’d risk everything.
“I’m going to try to get in touch with Claire.” I drew in a deep breath. “But I need to do it alone.”
His brow furrowed.
“She may reveal something about the Resistance location. If the false queen gets control of you—or manages to use you as a spy—I can’t risk them.”
His jaw tightened. “But you’d risk yourself in my presence?”
“To save you, of course.” I shrugged. “It’s obviously risky, but this is something I can try to control.”
He nodded. “I understand.”
There was still a light of pain in his eyes, but he did clearly get it. He’d do the same.
“I’ll be in the hall.” He left the room and I knelt, reaching into the ether to withdraw my bag of potion bombs. I fished around for the tiny vial of powder that I knew should be floating around the bottom somewhere.
The familiar shape hit my fingertips, and I grabbed it. Quickly, I pulled out the cork and tossed a pinch into the fire.
“Show me Claire.”
The flames flickered and danced, and Claire’s face appeared. She had a streak of dirt across her cheek, and her dark eyes were weary.
She smiled at the sight of me. “Mari.”
“Claire. How are you?”
“Good. We’re here in the Unseelie Realm. Luna used your blood and helped us get in. We’ve made contact with the Resistance.”