“I tried,” he interrupted, looking concerned. “She didn’t answer. Neither did Aunt Ethel when I called the new apartment.”
Alexa frowned and calculated the time difference. “It’s eleven o’clock at night there. Where are they?”
“Could be asleep,” Kurt offered, but Alexa shook her head.
“Not Aunt Ethel. She’s a night owl. And an early bird.” She pocketed her radio and checked her gun. “Just keep trying, okay, Peter?”
“Yep.”
Alexa and Ryc left the hotel and got into the nondescript sedan she’d rented. As Ryc had predicted, she knew just where to go. She left the hotel parking lot and headed east.
They drove in silence while her instincts guided her. Half an hour later they topped a rise and she pulled over. In the distance, about a mile ahead, stood their destination.
“It’s different,” she commented. The stone structure stood tall against the bright sky, alone in a field. “There should be forest. A village.” And for sure no parking lot. Three cars glinted in the sun. Tourists, she figured. Come to check out the museum in the middle of nowhere.
She unclipped her radio from her belt. “Rock.”
Static crackled. “Yeah. What have you got?”
“One lone Scottish tower, just waiting for excitement.” She gave Rock directions to the site and described the terrain. “Stay put until you hear from me. Or don’t hear from me,” she added. “Give us half an hour to check it out.”
“You got it. Be careful.”
“We will.” She gestured to the cars. “Shall we join them?” Ryc shrugged. She put the car in gear and drove on, parking next to a station wagon near the base of the tower. They got out and wandered across the hot macadam, glancing around at the empty fields, empty parking lot, and empty sky.
Alexa liked none of it.
She gathered some energy, both normal and water, as she neared the building, pinning coils of it to her with mental manipulation.
The sign next to the tower entrance read, “Museum of Magic: A tribute to the mages of yore.” They entered and paused to let their eyes adjust to the lack of light inside. The room at the base of the tower was wide, perhaps a hundred feet across. A small counter to their right held color pamphlets and a reading list, but was unstaffed. Portraits and prints on the walls depicted fanciful images of mages and sorcerers, while placards below or to the side described the painting and the origin of the act contained within it. On the right, stone steps curved upward, circling the tower several times before ending at a landing near the top.
A family of four argued about whether or not magic existed. Up the steps, near the second tier, a teenaged couple necked noisily. That accounted for two cars. The family no doubt drove the wagon, the teenagers the little Nova. Which left the BMW. Tarsuinn.
They made a pretense of studying the exhibits, Alexa strolling to her left, staying close to the wall, and Ryc stepping to the right. They met on the far side.
“He’s got to be upstairs,” Alexa said under her breath. “I think we should head back and work up a plan.”
“That’s fine with me.” Ryc took her elbow and walked with her out the door. “The back of my neck is prickling,” he muttered once they were in the parking lot again.
“Don’t look back.” Alexa felt it, too. Tars was there, and he was watching them. Malevolently. She fought the urge to run to the car. Nothing happened, though, and soon they were heading back down the road.
“I guess he wasn’t any more ready for us than we were for him,” Alexa said. No sooner were the words out of her mouth than the wheel jerked under her hands. She tried to correct but the car went off the road and tumbled into a ditch.
Before she could even register what had happened, the driver’s door, which pointed at the sky, ripped off the car. Alexa felt some force pulling at her, trying to remove her from the vehicle. She fought it, grabbing her seatbelt and the gearshift. But the seatbelt clicked open and ran through her hand, burning it, and the gearshift came with her when her body lifted into the air.
She looked down at Ryc. His eyes were panicked when he realized she wasn’t getting out under her own power. “Alexa!” He reached for her, too late. Alexa grabbed for the doorjamb and caught it, but the action caused her body to swing down and she hit her head, hard, on the metal.
The last thing she saw before blackness took over was Ryc’s face.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Alexa came to slowly. She first became aware of her head, which had fallen forward onto her chest. That was apparently because she was standing. No, not standing, hanging. Her wrists hurt. She forced her spaghetti legs to support her and the pressure on her arms eased. She was manacled to a wall. A stone wall, as indicated by the cold against her back.
Her head ached. The right side throbbed, and she remembered banging it on the car doorjamb. She tried to lift it and moaned when light flashed behind her closed eyelids. Waves of pain bounced back and forth inside her skull. She prayed she wouldn’t throw up. That would show just how tough she was. Right.
Slowly the nausea receded and her head simply ached. She cracked an eyelid and confirmed that she was in the tower. The top of the tower, judging by the glimpse of treetops and open field she could see out one of the narrow windows.
After a minute she could open both eyes and focus on the room. Tars wasn’t in it, but she wasn’t alone. A young man in a suit stood at a small table across the room, perusing a file full of papers. He didn’t turn for several minutes, but when he did, he smiled and came closer.
“Ah, Alexa Ranger.” He checked her head wound and tsked. “We finally meet.”
She squinted at him, trying to place the familiar voice. “You work for Tarsuinn?”
The man raised one eyebrow. “You say his name rather oddly.” He placed his hands behind his back and stepped back and forth in front of her in a practiced manner. He looked like he belonged in a boardroom, not an ancient tower. “I am Mr. Suinn’s personal assistant, Mark.”
“What kind of assisting do you do?”
“He couldn’t make a move without me.”
Alexa snorted. He was in for a surprise, she mused, knowing things would get interesting once Tars arrived. Mark’s manner reminded her of a sniveling sidekick from any Disney movie, despite the veneer of importance he’d put on. “When will your boss be showing up?” she asked.
Mark had gone back to the desk and didn’t look up. “Momentarily.”
Alexa hoped “momentarily” would allow her to regain some strength. She tried to feel around for energy so she could unchain her arms, but couldn’t detect any, not even what she had gathered earlier. Whether that was because of her head injury and weakness or because Tars had either eliminated it or blocked it from her, she didn’t know.
A scraping sound came from beyond the door, and a moment later it opened. Tarsuinn walked in but ignored Alexa. He went straight to equipment in the center of the room. Alexa hadn’t looked closely before but now realized it was a brazier and a stand holding several small mortars and pestles.
“Practicing witchcraft?” Alexa asked when he lit the brazier and added pinches of dust from two of the bowls.
He glanced at her and his lips twitched. “No. I just like the scent.” He crossed to the table where Mark had spread papers, picked up a pen, and began to sign. Within a few moments Alexa could smell rose and musk and maybe even a little sage. An odd, interesting combination. Much like the man himself, she mused.
Feeling stronger, she closed her eyes and reached out again for energy, this time expanding her awareness to the exterior. Nothing.
“You won’t find any,” Tarsuinn’s voice sounded right in front of her. Alexa’s eyes flashed open. He stood inches away, and she hadn’t noticed him approaching.
“Any what?”
He laughed. “Don’t try to bluff me. I know what’s going through that analytical mind of yours.”
“Then you know I think this is incredibly stupid. Moronic,
even. What’s the point of tying me up? You won’t win me this way.” She glanced at Mark, wondering how much of a threat he was. He hovered by the desk, looking nervous behind his patronizing smile.
Tarsuinn’s face hardened, all amusement fleeing. Some of the madness she’d sensed before flitted behind his eyes. “There is a point, my dear Alexa, and it’s far from moronic. You’ve made it plain I cannot have you. But I will not admit defeat. The point of the curse was that he shall not have you, either. And to ensure that end, one of you must die.” He tossed a hand in the air. “Either one. Doesn’t matter. Your beast will come for you. And when he does, you shall choose.
“Then, it will be over.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Ryc tried to reach Alexa as she was pulled from the car, but his right leg was pinned and he was too far away. He roared in rage as she soared limply through the air toward the tower.
His struggles to free his leg of the dented car door upset the vehicle’s precarious balance, and it tipped to rest completely on its roof. Ryc yelled in pain as his body shifted and pulled on his trapped limb.
_Calm down, his brain ordered. Can you, or can you not, do magic? The voice sounded remarkably like Cyrgyn’s. Ryc immediately stilled and let his panic subside. Tarsuinn wouldn’t kill Alexa immediately—if that was what he wanted, he’d have done it from a distance. He took a deep breath and concentrated. Two seconds later the car door popped open and his leg was free. He unbuckled the harness and controlled his fall to the roof, then pulled himself out of the car.
He took inventory of his body—nothing broken—at the same time he surveyed the landscape. It seemed unchanged. The tower stood silent and solid, almost stoic, he imagined. Prepared to withstand what was about to take place within. He thought about waiting for conversion. Then he could fly straight to the tower window. But he’d have no way to get in and little flexibility of movement or action. Better to stay this way and hope Tarsuinn wouldn’t recognize him. In the small glimpses they’d had of each other so far, he hadn’t yet.
Ryc bent and leaned into the car to find the cell phone, relieved to find it undamaged. He pressed and held the number one. Rock answered immediately.
“Alexa’s been captured. I’m going into the tower after her.”
“Maintain your position, Dreugan,” Rock ordered. “Do not, I repeat, do not attempt a rescue on your own.”
“Sorry, Davis, I don’t take orders from you.” He set the phone back in the car and started to climb out of the ditch. Davis had no idea what was about to happen and was right in warning Ryc to stay out. But there was no way he could do that. Tarsuinn may not kill Alexa, but he could do a lot to her in the half hour it would take reinforcements to arrive.
Ryc paused outside the entrance to the museum. The two cars were still in the parking lot. He limped inside, glanced around, and went straight to the bickering family on the far side of the room.
“Folks, we’ll be closing in just a minute. Please leave through the front door.” He gestured and tried to look official.
The woman narrowed her eyes at his dusty clothes. “The sign says two o’clock. It’s barely noon.”
Ryc shrugged apologetically. “Renovations are beginning. Sorry.” He ushered them out, then looked up the stairs for the teenagers. No sign of them. The base of the tower was one room, no anteroom or storage chamber. He looked behind the information counter. Nothing.
He cursed, then began to climb slowly, watching carefully above him for signs of an ambush. After he’d rounded the first curve he spotted the soles of four shoes. A few steps higher and he could see the prone teenagers. They must have moved upward for more privacy.
Ryc didn’t want to alert Tarsuinn of his presence, but he didn’t know how to get the kids out of there without noise. Taking a chance, he thumped the bottom of the boy’s sneaker with his fist. The kid jerked his head up, his moist mouth slack and eyes dulled. They cleared and widened when he saw Ryc, and he swiped a hand across his face. The girl began fumbling to pull her shirt down.
Under Ryc’s censorious look they scrambled down the stairs and out the door. He took a quick breath of relief that the innocents were out of the way and proceeded up the steps to the top.
The door was made of solid wood, reinforced with wrought iron and no doubt barred from inside. There was no window and no modern keyhole. He wrapped his fingers around the latch and slowly pulled, then pushed. The door didn’t budge. Ryc wasn’t sure if he could unbar it without making noise. If Tarsuinn was looking right at it, silence wouldn’t matter anyway. But he could hear nothing inside the room, sense nothing but the presence of his archenemy and his true love.
A telltale shudder went through him and he fought back. He didn’t have much time. One warning was all he got. There was nothing to do but do it.
He closed his eyes and pressed his palms to the door. A quick heave, and the bar on the other side clattered to the floor. Before it settled Ryc had that door open and was through it.
Not fast enough. Before he could assimilate the situation he was slammed back against the wall. Cuffs snapped around his wrists and pulled his arms overhead. He grabbed the chains and kicked his feet upward, out of reach, before the same happened to them.
Alexa was similarly chained on the other side of the room. Tarsuinn stood in the center near a smoking brazier, smirking in that annoying way he’d always had. A younger man hovered to one side, looking both nervous and excited.
Tarsuinn’s sneer turned to disgust. “Who is this, Alexa? One of your spy friends, come to rescue you? How effective he was. I must intensify our training technique.”
The man to the side cleared his throat. “Ah, remember, Tars, I sold GenCom yesterday? You don’t—”
“Enough, Mark.” The man fell silent. “I remember. It was a joke.”
“O-okay.” Mark subsided against the wall, but Ryc saw him glare at Tarsuinn’s back.
Alexa opened her mouth to speak but Ryc cut her off. “I’m surprised you don’t remember me, Tarsuinn. We go way back.”
Tarsuinn narrowed his gaze. A flicker of recognition faded quickly, and he shook his head. “Sorry, I don’t recall. But I tend to dismiss the weak and stupid from my mind. Takes up valuable space.”
He turned away, but spun back when Ryc laughed. “You didn’t always consider me weak and stupid, Tars. In fact, that’s how you always felt when you were around me.”
Tarsuinn’s eyes narrowed and he stepped closer. “No one makes me feel that way, peasant.”
Ryc laughed again, this time with true pleasure. “That’s a good one. Calling me a peasant. I’ve been a lot of things, but never that.” He looked across at Alexa, who was still, watching them. “Not that being a peasant has ever been a bad thing.”
A furrow formed between Alexa’s eyebrows, but she said nothing.
“Truth is, Tarsuinn, our entire lives have come down to this. Well, my entire life, anyway. Four of yours.”
Tars’ eyes widened again and shock entered them. “No. I would have known. You can’t—it can’t—how?”
Ryc felt the surge through his body. “Temporarily, I’m afraid.” He looked at Alexa. “I’m sorry.”
Tarsuinn ran to the wall and hefted a pike. “No! You can not defeat me! I will end this now!” Yelling a battle cry, he leapt at Ryc.
Too late. Ryc felt the pike strike his chest just as the transformation began.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Alexa watched with horror as the pike moved through the air. She yanked at her bonds, tried to slide her hands through the irons, knowing even if she succeeded she’d be too late to do anything. Her heart screamed though her voice was frozen. More than she wanted Cyrgyn to live, she wanted Ryc to.
Then she discovered the desire was one and the same.
For years afterward, though the scene would play itself over and over in dreams, she’d never be able to describe exactly how it happened. One moment Tarsuinn was racing across the stone floor, prepared to kill R
yc. The next he was on the floor, nearly on his back, and towering over him was a golden dragon.
Cyrgyn’s wings, open to their full span, beat the air and sent waves of wind across the room. His head back, he roared in outrage. Fire belched upward, to extinguish against the ceiling. Tarsuinn scrambled backward on his elbows and heels, then stood when he’d reached the wall.
“You!” he shouted.
“Me.” Cyrgyn’s foreclaws thudded to the floor. “You did not think I would let you take her without a fight, did you, Tarsuinn?”
Tars lifted his hands. “Nay, old friend. I did not.” He let loose a ball of fire. Cyrgyn dodged it, despite his size. He took up more than half the room.
Alexa tugged at the irons again, then, frustrated, growled. “Stupid, Alexa. Get clear.” She blocked off her emotions and used her brain, trying, once more, to find the energy. Tarsuinn must have used some sort of spell or shield that had prevented her from using it before. Now, though, when she concentrated, she could find the energy in the room and used it to unlock her chains. Relieved that his distraction had narrowed his focus, she watched and looked for her opening as she circled the combatants in the center of the room. Some of the water energy she’d pinned to her had dissipated while she was unconscious, but she gathered small bits of it together.
“Not so fast, Ms. Ranger.” Inexperienced but strong arms came around her and pinned her own arms to her sides. Then his hand came up and closed around her throat. “My employer still has plans for you. It would be rude to leave before they were complete.”
Alexa cursed. She’d forgotten about Mark, a stupid move. His nervousness in Tars’ presence had made him seem ineffectual, but she knew better than to assume anything.
Still, he was inexperienced. And clearly knew nothing about magic. She snapped a stream of energy from the air and swung a wrist iron so it smacked him on the side of the head.
Soul of the Dragon Page 23