by C. I. Black
It wasn’t the alley where he’d had his throat slit, but this wasn’t a better memory to keep jumping back to.
“I know where the coins are.” He drew in a sharp breath, spiking more pain and using that to yank himself back into the present. “Let’s get Ivy in here and figure out what we’re doing.”
“Let’s not and say we did,” Diablo said. “We both know she’s never leaving this house again. She’s seen the kids.”
“She’s not reacting as if she knows what they are.” Except Grey knew that was a weak excuse. The fact that Grey was here with Nero endangered the coterie. Knowing Nero was hiding human mages was only an added bonus.
“If she goes missing, Tobias will ask questions,” Nero said.
Diablo shrugged. “As far as anyone knows, she was last seen with Grey.”
“And what do you propose? Locking her up in the basement for the rest of her life?” Grey glared at Diablo. Grey was the older, bigger drake. He might be hurt and wouldn’t be able to win the fight even on a good day, but he sure as hell could make the black drake hurt.
Diablo met Grey’s stare and flashed a hint of teeth, excitement and danger lighting his eyes. “At least until Anaea figures out how to wipe her memory.” He blinked, a lazy movement as if he didn’t care that Grey was about to throttle him. “Sorcerers can do that, right?”
“You’re not erasing her memories.” Grey wrenched forward.
Diablo vanished, and the whoosh of a rapid free gate gusted behind Grey. He jerked around, his body screaming in pain, and blocked Diablo’s punch to his head.
“Enough,” Nero growled. “I’ll take care of it. We’re not wiping Ivy’s memories, and we’re not imprisoning her. Regis’s new assassin has the ability to sense a dragon’s essence. All he has to do is summon his power in Newgate, and he’ll find her here.”
“We can’t just do nothing,” Diablo said, his voice dark. “She endangers the children.”
“Well, we’re not killing her, either.” Grey’s heart thudded, hard. Nero hadn’t become doyen of the Major Black Coterie or the dugga of the Asar Nergal because he was soft. “We’re not losing any more souls to the ether.”
“You’re not a hatchling, so stop acting like one.” Nero’s aura flared and a hint of his magical wind hissed through the room. “I’m doyen, and I protect mine.”
Something Grey was acutely aware of. That, and the fact that he wasn’t a member of Nero’s official or unofficial coterie. He was an outsider, as he’d always been. His own coterie hadn’t understood his friendship with Hunter, one of the few remaining red drakes, and when Grey had realized he wouldn’t find a home with his own kind — along with the fact that his memories were starting to overwhelm him — he’d sworn himself into the service of the Handmaiden. Better an outcast with her than tying his fate to King Constantine and getting caught up in Court politics.
“Tobias is smart. If Ivy doesn’t report in, he’ll get suspicious.” Nero’s glare shifted to Diablo who met his stare head on. “And don’t discount— never discount the chamberlain’s resourcefulness. He manages all aspects of Court, including the Asar Nergal and Internal Inspection. He gathers agents who can reveal hidden secrets, and I have no doubt that’s Ivy’s earth magic.”
“So we’re screwed.” A shudder swept through Diablo, and the wild danger, the one that seemed to scream for a fight, flickered across his expression. His attention jumped to Grey, and the danger burned into hot fury. “You screwed us.”
He roared and half-lunged, half-rapid free gated with a whoosh and pop. He was five feet away, then he was up close and seizing the front of Grey’s borrowed coat.
Grey jerked back, but Diablo wrenched around with a hip throw and tossed Grey with his enhanced strength. He crashed into the bookshelf. White hot pain exploded through him.
A magical wind burst into the room and slammed Diablo against its far side. Nero rose from his desk, radiating waves of menace, his aura pulsing with ancient power. He wasn’t in as big of a human body as Grey, and his body wasn’t as young as Diablo’s, but without a doubt, he was the more powerful, more ruthless drake.
“I. Am. Doyen,” he said, his voice low and soft and filled with danger. “You don’t question me. You obey.”
Diablo hissed and bared his teeth.
“You obey.” Nero’s wind slammed him to the floor and pinned him there.
Ivy and Anaea rushed through the doorway. The room snapped into sharp focus, every book, speck of fluff caught on the rug, and chip in the old wooden floor becoming crystal clear. Anaea’s aura flared with a brilliant white that made Grey’s eyes water. Ivy’s breath came fast, her complexion pale, her eyes wide.
Nero knelt and hissed, his voice so low Grey could barely hear it. “Tobias and Ivy are my problems. Yours are the human mages.” He straightened and his gaze swept over everyone in the room. “Never forget who’s doyen.”
“Yes, doyen,” Ivy said, her gaze dropping to the floor. The submissive action made Grey’s chest ache. To react so quickly to a complete stranger indicated it had been made clear to her she was young and weak. The question was, who had made it clear? Regis? Or had Tobias been involved in that?
Grey wouldn’t have thought Tobias was that kind of drake, but if it kept his people in line — particularly with a prince who jumped at every slight — Grey wouldn’t put it past the chamberlain.
Nero’s wind vanished and he eased onto the edge of his desk again. “Grey. You know where the coins are?”
Grey grabbed the edge of the bookshelf and stood. “They’re in the dragon statues in the two great temples.”
“Jet said she was going for the easy one,” Ivy said from the doorway, her gaze still lowered.
“Which one would be easy?” Ryan asked from the back of the room, his tense body belying his relaxed lean against the shelves. “The one in Chang’an or the one in the mountains near Arrapha?”
“Ivy said she overheard Jet saying it would take seven hours,” Grey said. “It has to be the temple in Iraq. That temple’s gatelock has an enormous radius and even if she gated as close as possible, she’d still have to hike it in.”
“I agree.” Diablo sat in one of the low-backed chairs and slouched as if he hadn’t just been bashed against the floor. “It wouldn’t take her that long to get to the temple in Chang’an, even if she used the nearby gate anchor and didn’t know her way.”
“Not to mention the dragon statue from the Chang’an great temple isn’t in the temple,” Nero said. “The humans found it in 1923 and moved it into a museum. Last week it was shipped to The Royal Vancouver Museum in Canada on loan for restoration and a special exhibit next month.” He opened his laptop.
“And you just so happen to know this?” Anaea asked.
“I make a pilgrimage to the Chang’an dragon every year.” Nero glared at Diablo. “I have the reputation of a Traditionalist for a reason.”
Grey squared his shoulders. He just had to hold it together for a little bit longer. Except he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to do that. “If we want to stop Jet, we need at least one of the coin halves. I guess we’re going to Canada.”
Ivy gave a tight nod, her expression darkened as if she was coming to a realization she didn’t like. “I should report to Tobias, and you should go with someone with more fighting experience. I can buy you a few hours, let you stop Jet first and get the coin piece so they can never be joined, but—”
“No,” Grey said, the word rushing out before he could stop it.
Nero and Diablo stared at him, while Anaea and Ryan shared a concerned glance.
Shit. “I mean, if we don’t want to raise any suspicions, we need to keep things as they are and not get anyone else involved.”
“Tobias can still tell the prince that you’re staying on mission,” Nero said. “If Grey goes after the coin piece alone, you lose that story.”
“I shot the prince’s new assassin,” Ivy said, her voice soft but edged with steely resignation. Yeah, s
he knew her options were limited, too.
“Tobias will believe that was to protect the mission. If Grey is the only drake who knows where these coin pieces are and the goal is to prevent Jet from getting the complete coin, then Grey can’t be assassinated, no matter what the prince wants.” Nero pursed his lips and frowned. “Yes, that’s what you’ll tell Tobias. When are you required to report in?”
“Ten tonight.”
“Good. It will still take Jet seven hours to get the coin piece in Arrapha—”
“So we need to get to Vancouver.” Grey squared his shoulders, snapping pain through him.
“You need to take a few hours and heal,” Anaea said.
Diablo huffed and rolled his eyes. “I’d also suggest a plan.”
CHAPTER 22
An hour later, Ivy’s head was stuffed with so much information she feared accidentally brushing her locket and imprinting any of it there. Especially the bits she didn’t quite understand, like the details about electronic security systems and guard rotations. The only thing she had fully understood was that they were going to sneak in as guests of a museum’s opening reception for an exhibition of northern Canadian art.
And while Nero had come up with a logical argument as to why she needed to accompany Grey to get the coin piece, she was certain it was a terrible idea. She couldn’t fight and wouldn’t be able to help him if he got into trouble. She was barely a second set of eyes because she didn’t have a clue about half the things she should probably be looking for. In less than four hours, she’d experienced more than she had in her entire life. She was sure of that. There wasn’t even a hint of anything like this in the locket and without a doubt, something like this would have been imprinted there.
She also wasn’t sure why any of his friends weren’t going with him instead. Although if he was Regis’s enemy, anyone seen with him was in danger—
Which meant she could use that knowledge of who these drakes were as leverage to get her freedom. She could threaten them with revealing to the prince that they were helping Grey. A doyen like Nero and a drake as ancient as Anaea surely had standing in Court that they wouldn’t want to lose.
Except a part of her wasn’t sure giving these people up was worth her freedom. She could do it then forget about it, but she couldn’t help but wonder if something that cruel would permanently stain her soul.
“So we have a plan,” Nero said.
“You mean Ivy and I do.” Grey stood. After everyone had decided they needed a plan, he’d returned to the wooden chair and more pieces of shrapnel, covered in thick blood, had oozed out of his back as they’d talked.
“You have a couple more hours before you need to head out,” Anaea said. “You should get cleaned up and grab a nap.”
“The room across from yours is empty.” Ryan stood and headed to the door. “I’ll tell Raven Ivy is taking it for the night… early evening?”
Diablo snorted. “She’s going to love that, having to do extra sheets because of a few hours.”
“Actually, I think you’re on laundry duty this week,” Ryan said.
“Like hell I am,” Diablo growled.
Ryan bared his teeth and flipped Diablo his middle finger.
“It’s too dangerous.” Nero typed something on his laptop. “Ivy’s been here for too long already. If Bolo gets too close, he’ll be able to track you here. You’ll need to recoup someplace else.”
“I’ll book you a couple of rooms in a hotel in Vancouver. Hun—” Anaea glanced at Ivy. “H has a few aliases Court doesn’t know about.”
“Book an executive suite at the Sutton Court Hotel. It’s close to the museum, but outside of the range of the gatelock enspelled into the dragon statue.” Nero typed something into the laptop. “Ryan—”
“Yep, I’ll get on finding museum reception appropriate clothing for them.” Ryan strode from the room.
“I know a safe place to gate into in Vancouver.” Grey drew in a breath, his expression still pained but not nearly as much as it had been a hour ago. “I’ll gate us there.”
“And risk your gate jumping to Court,” Diablo said, “Don’t be an idiot.”
Nero turned his laptop, revealing a split screen with the picture of a luxury hotel lobby and one of a loading bay.
“Got it.” Diablo grabbed Ivy’s wrist and placed a hand on Grey’s shoulder, and a vortex whooshed around them.
Ivy’s foot hit solid ground. She stumbled, and Diablo shifted his grip to her upper arm and steadied her. She opened her mouth to thank him, but he glared at her and she snapped it closed.
They stood in a dark parking lot outside a loading bay. Above towered a ten-story high rise with large floor-to-ceiling windows, most of them fully covered with heavy drapes. Diablo pulled his phone from his pocket and glanced at the display.
“Anaea says the suite is booked. It’s on the sixth floor. Room 603. Stick to the stairwell to limit the chance that you accidentally show your messed up back to any security cameras.” He handed his phone to Grey. “Use the app on the phone to pick the electronic lock. I’ll officially check you in when I come back with the clothes.”
Grey took the phone. “Thanks.”
Diablo flashed his teeth, the smile wicked with a little aggression. “Do you need me to carry your sorry ass up?”
“I’m fine.”
“Well, don’t call me when you get stuck on the fourth-floor landing.”
“Can’t.” Grey held up Diablo’s phone. “I’ve got your phone.”
“Whatever.” Diablo vanished with a whoosh.
“Come on.” Grey squared his shoulders and winced. “I could really use a shower.”
Ivy followed him through a side security door and up a back concrete stairwell. Despite his gruff exterior, it was clear Diablo cared. All the others who’d been in Nero’s office had cared, too. Even the doyen lashing out at Diablo to prove his dominance hadn’t lessened the feeling that they were all a family. And Grey was a part of that.
She risked brushing her locket and searched for anything in her history like what Grey had, even though she knew it wasn’t there. Surely if she had people who cared for her like they cared for Grey, that would have been the first thing the locket showed her every morning. Instead, she was filled with fear. No one close to her could be trusted and everyone was dangerous.
No one in Doyen Nero’s house could be trusted, either.
Grey was still a stranger, no matter what her attraction to him said. Attraction was only attraction. It didn’t mean anything. Her need to keep him close was only because she wasn’t going to ever step foot in Court again. Nothing more.
They reached the sixth floor and stepped into a cream and tan hall with warm lighting. Room 603 was only a few doors down, and Grey held Diablo’s phone in front of the door’s electronic lock until it beeped. They entered a spacious hotel suite with a moderate level of memory fire, decorated in the same colors as the hall. There were two open bedroom doors — one bedroom on either side of the suite — with a kitchenette and a living room between them.
“Do you want the room on the left or the right?’ Grey asked.
“It doesn’t matter.” She couldn’t afford to fall asleep and forget everything. Not until she’d imprinted a plan to escape Court into her locket.
“Right.” He pursed his lips, and his gaze slid to hers and locked there. “Okay.”
The knot in her gut tightened with a flickering of heated desire, mixed with the yearning to bathe in the memory fire dancing over him, along with her ever-present frozen fear.
“If you want to back out of this, I’ll understand.”
She should say yes. She didn’t have the skills to break into a museum or — if they showed up — to fight Jet or Bolo. But agreeing that she should back out meant abandoning her chance at freedom.
It meant abandoning him.
Now her chest as well as her gut ached.
“So…” he said.
She didn’t know if he’d taken he
r lack of response as agreement or disagreement. A smart drake would recognize her weaknesses and set her desire to the side for the safety of everyone involved. “I don’t know how useful I’ll be.”
“More useful than you think.” He released her from his gaze and turned to the closest bedroom, but didn’t move. “Ivy—”
“Don’t think I’m not in.” The words spilled out. She also couldn’t let Regis get his hands on the rebirth spell, giving him free rein to essentially kill without killing any drake he wanted to. No one could get control of the full spell. “I’m in. I just don’t want to be a liability.”
“You’re not the liability.” The muscles in his jaw clenched. “I am. I can’t control my magic,” he said, his voice a low harsh growl. “But you can.”
“I don’t understand.”
“My magic is always on. It’s not that I can recall everything whenever I want. It’s that I recall everything all the time whether I want to or not.”
“That’s got to be—” She couldn’t think of words to describe that. Terrible? Wonderful? It explained why his memory fire was so strong. It probably explained why it looked like the memory encompassed all of him and not just his clothes or treasured items. It certainly explained why it was so hard not to say her power word and let his memories wash over her. It might even explain why she sensed she could read his memories and not just the memories in his clothes. “You said back in the doyen’s office that I affect your magic, and asked me to leave when you were trying to remember the tapestry.”
“Yeah.” A piece of shrapnel oozed out of his back and plopped onto the floor. “Son of a—”
Realization hit her, and she bit back a gasp. It was always on. Mother, was he always seeing that horrible memory? How old was it? How long had he lived with that? “You see that all the time?”
“Not when you’re near.” He grabbed the piece of shrapnel and tried to wipe the blood off the carpet with a clean edge of his stolen coat, but only managed to smear it in. “Can I tell you while I clean up in the bathroom?”
“You shouldn’t be telling me any of this.” Even if she didn’t want to, Regis could force her to tell him whatever she knew as well as everything about his friends—