by Eileen Wilks
Weng? Rule thought of Lily’s theory. “Is he a sorcerer?”
“We’ll ask, but Chuck may not be aware of distinctions of that sort. For people who’ve invested heavily in magic, they don’t seem to know much about it. I . . .” His voice moved away from the phone as he told someone he’d be right there. “I have to go. Lots of mess to deal with still.”
Ruben disconnected before Rule could ask more questions, and he had several. He needed to know what had happened with some of his men. With José. But maybe Ruben didn’t know, either. Not yet.
They’d find out soon. Rule looked at Jason. The younger man was grinning. Slowly Rule nodded. It wasn’t in him to smile. Dilly was still dead. Barring extreme ill luck or outrageous stupidity, though, he’d be the last to die. It was over—except for the messy parts, such as whether he’d be arrested for today’s actions or jailed for having escaped his earlier arrest. But no Dragmageddon.
“We need to get the word out,” he said. “Jason, call Luke and Manny. I’ll borrow a phone and call Codger and see that he—” He cut himself off, listening.
Hellfire. Another bloody helicopter—not directly overhead. Not yet anyway. “Someone get up a tree and find out where that damn copter’s going!”
* * *
“XĪN,” Lily said. New. Which was true of all babies, but struck her as particularly apt for this fresh, shiny mind. The now-familiar pulse of magic traveled from Mika to the baby along her mindsense, and the baby’s mind absorbed his new name. A moment later, he thrust up on wobbly legs and took his first step.
Little Xıˉn had taken his time about hatching. Lily had wanted to help him, but Mika had been adamant that the babies must break through the shells by themselves. Lily didn’t know whether custom or reason lay behind that dictate. Maybe the act of breaking through the shell triggered important physiological changes in the hatchling. Maybe it triggered something magically that was equally important to a being built as much from magic as from flesh.
Or maybe dragons had simply always done it that way, she thought, and stretched without removing her hand from Mika’s tail.
She didn’t think she’d be too drained. It had dawned on her after the fourth hatchling emerged that when she touched Mika, the dragon’s magic buoyed her, soaking in through her skin much faster than she could absorb magic normally. So although she’d given her mindsense a workout, she shouldn’t be totally depleted. But she was not ready for the headache that would hit the moment the link was broken. Those had gotten worse each time, so this one was apt to be a doozy. She wished Mika weren’t quite so distracted by motherhood. She’d asked the dragon twice why—
The volcano her mind was linked with went suddenly calm. Still.
The change jolted her. Her hand fell away from Mika’s tail and she moaned as she doubled up, hit by the headache to end all headaches.
It felt like getting shot. Not that she’d ever been shot in the head, but she’d taken a bullet elsewhere, and this white-hot pain was way too much like that. Finally agony began fading into mere pain—still mind-dulling, but not strong enough to wipe out everything else.
The brownies were upset. She blinked and tried to pull her thoughts together. They weren’t singing anymore. She heard her name amid the high-pitched clamor, made a huge effort, and lifted her head. “What?”
Most of them feel silent. “She fell asleep!” Gandalf cried. “Mika fell asleep and won’t wake up!”
“Maybe she’s tired.” God knew Lily was.
“No, it’s wrong. She isn’t supposed to sleep now, and dragons don’t sleep like this, so soundly they won’t wake.”
Lily looked around. Mika’s head no longer hovered up above the rest of her body. With a groan, she got to her feet. Briefly she was dizzy, but that passed.
All she saw was coils of dragon, sand, shattered eggshells . . . and the babies, of course. Three of them were awake and practicing walking, lurching now and then into unsuccessful attempts to run. As she watched, the red one snapped at his brother’s tail. Two had curled up next to their mother’s heat, sleeping. “The babies seem fine.”
“Mika is not fine. Wake her up, Lilyu! She must wake up.”
How do you wake a sleeping dragon? She tried poking Mika with her hand. Nothing. Could she wake someone with her mindsense? She had no idea. Time to find out. She urged the magic coiled inside her to uncurl. It responded sluggishly, either because she was depleted or because her head hurt. But it did respond.
Lily hadn’t noticed any difference between a sleeping mind and a waking one, yet she’d known it the instant Mika fell asleep. So on some level, she was aware of a difference. She wanted to bring that awareness up to the conscious level, so she resisted the pull of Mika’s mind and studied the babies first.
Their minds weren’t clear bubbles anymore. They shone with shifting dawn colors now, and the surfaces she touched were beginning to acquire texture. The change was most noticeable in the ones who’d been hatched longest, but even the brand-new baby’s mind had begun taking on color.
At first that was the only difference she noted. Gradually, though, she realized that the patterns she dimly sensed beneath the surface were different in the sleeping babies’ minds. Farther from the surface, maybe.
She let her attention be drawn to Mika’s mind. And frowned. What had always felt like seething lava was now quiet. Motionless, as far as she could sense. It seemed an unnatural stillness, but she didn’t know if that was because—
A brownie screamed shrilly.
Lily spun around.
“Freeze!”
She did. A man stood in the mouth of the tunnel she’d used the first time she came to the creche. Five-ten, Asian, slim, maybe thirty-five, part of her mind noted. But most of her mind was fixed on the gun he pressed to Gandalf’s head. He stood there smiling down at Lily with the little brownie securely pinned against his chest and a 9mm held to her head. “Lily Yu! What a surprise. And to think I accused Smith of having secreted you away somewhere. Hold your hands in the air, please. Very good. Now, all you little brownies hop down there with her.”
“He can see us!” one of the brownies exclaimed.
“Yes, I can, so don’t try your cute little brownie tricks.”
“It’s a fifteen-foot drop,” Lily said.
“They’re excellent little acrobats. And I’m impatient. Jump!” Abruptly he twisted Gandalf’s arm.
“Ow!” she cried. “Ow, ow, ow!”
Some of the younger brownies did jump. Two landed in sand. Two landed on Mika. The older ones began to slip off the ledge to climb down.
The AK-47 lay buried beneath a coil of Mika, but Lily had her Glock. She nudged her mindsense open. The first time someone “heard” mindspeech was startling. If she could distract him even for a moment—
The sharp crack of his gun was shockingly loud in the enclosed space. Sand shot up near Lily’s feet. The babies all meeped loudly. Those who’d been playing hurried in their unstable way to the shelter of their mother’s body.
“No magic.” He wasn’t smiling now.
Her heart pounded in time with her head. He wasn’t there. He was, but he wasn’t. “I’m a sensitive. I can’t do magic.”
“And I’m a sorcerer, so I know you were trying something—some type of mind magic. That won’t work on me, but the ban stands. No magic.”
No, she thought, mind magic probably didn’t work on him. To her mindsense, Gandalf was alone on the ledge. This sorcerer’s mind was as invisible to her new sense as the baby dragons had been before they hatched. Completely shielded.
“Now, what to do with you.” The gun stayed aimed steadily at her head.
“Are you taking suggestions?”
His smile flashed white in the dim light. “I think not. You’re quite the unexpected complication. Or do I mean bonus?” He sighed. “Decisions, decisions. Have you been here all along? No, that’s the wrong question. Why are you here?”
“To help Mika.”
The
brownies sent up a chorus of protests. Most of them were perched on various parts of the sleeping dragon. A few were on the sand near Lily.
The intruder ignored them. His eyebrows lifted. “Tell me more.”
“She needed my hands. Often the hatchlings can’t emerge without help.”
“And yet brownies seem to have hands.”
“They aren’t immune to magic. I am. The hatching sets loose a lot of odd magic that can have dangerous effects.” She lifted her eyebrows. “If you’re a sorcerer, as you claim, you must be able to see the remnants of it.”
He studied her a moment. “Part truth, part lie. Perhaps we’ll have time later to sort out which is which. For now, it’s time to get busy.” Abruptly he tossed Gandalf away from him. The old brownie landed on Mika with a cry of pain. Several of the brownies hurried to her.
Lily didn’t move because his gun hadn’t. It remained aimed at her head. “Is she all right?”
Several brownies answered at once. She picked out enough from the torrent of words to be somewhat reassured. Gandalf was alive, but her arm was probably broken.
“Time to get to work. Brownies, this is for you.” His free hand tossed out something—a sack or tote made of camo fabric. “Lily, I need you to unbuckle your shoulder harness slowly and carefully. I’m feeling nervous. Do try not to alarm me.”
She did as he’d bade. Slowly. As her hands went through the routine task, she became aware of something that had been in the background, unnoticed.
Rule was coming closer.
“When you get it off, throw it behind you. Throw it nice and hard so it lands on the other side of the dragon. Don’t worry about waking her. You won’t.”
“And why is that?” She slipped off the shoulder harness, letting it dangle from one hand. And tried not to notice Rule.
“Little Amanda put the dragon nighty-night.”
The sorcerer had seen it when she used her mindsense. He might be able to see the mate sense, too, if she were actively using it. The mate bond itself was part magic, part spirit, but was that true of the sense that told her where Rule was?
Closer, yes. He was coming this way.
“Do get rid of that shoulder harness like I told you, Lily. This place is chock-full of hostages to your good behavior. I could kill two or three and not miss them at all.”
Seventeen brownies and five baby dragons made for a lot of hostages. She turned and threw her shoulder holster, weapon and all. It didn’t land on the other side of Mika’s coils, but fell in between them, which was just as damn unreachable. “Amanda’s a telepath,” she said, turning back to face him.
“So she is. Nasty child. Lily, sit down right where you are. Very good. Brownies, start gathering up every tiny fragment of the shells. Put them in that tote for me. I’m not at all squeamish, but neither am I bloodthirsty. Do as you’re told and no one needs to die today. Not even Lily.”
The brownies didn’t hurry, but they did obey, starting to pick up bits of eggshells.
“Very good.” He lowered himself to sit on the edge of the ledge, his legs hanging off it. “Now, Lily, I’m quite curious about you. Let’s get acquainted.”
“Excellent idea.” She sat in the hot sand with her head tipped back, watching him. “What’s your name?”
He smiled. “Tom.”
“Was it you who took down the wards, Tom?”
“Why, yes, it was. Though I’ll admit I had help. Very strong wards, they were. What type of magic were you trying to do earlier?”
“I hoped to turn you into a toad. You want the eggshells for the lóng dàn potion. Not the whole eggs. Just the shells.”
“Heard about that, did you?”
He was enjoying himself, she thought. Now that she’d gotten rid of her weapon and the brownies were obeying him, he could relax and enjoy his own cleverness. He probably hadn’t had much opportunity to brag. “You fooled Smith for a long time.”
He chuckled. “That idiot! It wasn’t hard. Smith thinks it’s the potion that makes Amanda so strong. Oh, it’s necessary for some things, but really! He’s such a joke. Do you know, he thought he could kill the mama dragon, steal the eggs, and raise his own dragons to be good little secret agents?”
She stared, horrified. “That . . . hadn’t occurred to me.”
“Dragons are telepathic, you know.” His voice mocked the absent Smith.
Not without an efondi to name them when they hatch, but neither Tom nor Smith could know that. “Did he think the babies would grow up to obey him?”
“Remarkable, isn’t it? He desperately wants more telepaths, you see. When I suggested he raise his own, he loved the idea. Stupid man, but his particular combination of ignorance and monomania let me get where I am now, so I suppose I shouldn’t complain.” He glanced at his watch. “Speed it up, little brownies. Or I might put a bullet in one of you for motivation.”
The ever-chattery brownies didn’t say a word. They just began working faster.
So he had a schedule to keep, did he? No doubt Mika couldn’t be kept asleep indefinitely. “Why did you say Amanda put Mika to sleep? Telepaths can’t do that even with humans, much less with a dragon. It isn’t part of the Gift.”
“Ah, but Amanda has help, too.”
“I assume Amanda had to get close to Mika to put her to sleep, but she isn’t with the soldiers.”
“Modern technology is a marvel. A helicopter brought us.”
“Us? How many is that?”
“Did you not find out about Cerberus?” He shook his head. “I do hate it that Smith was right about something. He was sure you didn’t have a clue, but I thought you might stumble to it. You’re fairly bright, and that little sensitive of Smith’s is brilliant with computers. Limited in other ways, but within her limits she’s quite a marvel.”
“Danny found a mention of Cerberus, but no description.”
“Ah. Well, you do know that Cerberus was the three-headed dog of myth? Smith’s Cerberus is three-headed, also. But Amanda’s head is always the one in charge. At the moment she’s linked with a farseer and a Finder.”
“Linked,” she repeated slowly. He was telling her too much. He intended to kill her when he’d finished crowing . . . and he was glancing at his watch again. She didn’t have much time. “Is that how they were able to murder people? This link must have let Nicky see what the farseer saw so he could use his form of TK on them.”
“More or less,” he said agreeably.
“And the fires—that was Cerberus, too.” There was a Fire Gifted among the children. Amanda must have linked the farseer with the fire-starter. “Your potion makes it possible for Amanda to link telepathically to two other children?”
“It’s necessary, but not sufficient. Come, now, Lily, I’ve dropped a couple hints. Do you not have even an inkling? No? Shall I tell you?” He smiled sweetly. “Why, yes, I think I will. Amanda and I have been receiving help from someone you know. Someone who knows you, too. Someone who finds it very useful to have a telepath in this realm bound to her service.”
The blood drained from her head.
He laughed. “Oh, the look on your face! Yes, that someone. Did you not guess? It takes a great deal of power to incapacitate a dragon, even one who’s temporarily limited by motherhood.”
Amanda was in telepathic contact with her. With the Great Bitch, the Great Enemy . . . and Tom was in her service, too. Sam had been wrong. The Great Bitch was very much involved. Lily’s mouth was so dry she had to lick her lips before she could speak. “Tell me—is she currently wanting me dead or kidnapped? She keeps changing her mind about that.”
“Oh, she doesn’t object to your death. Not at all. But she’d just love to get her hands on you alive.” He stood. “Time’s about up, little brownies. If you don’t have the last pieces in the bag by the count of five, I start shooting. One . . . two . . . three . . . there!” he exclaimed as they dropped the last handfuls of tiny fragments in the tote. “I knew you could do it. Now take the bag to Lily.
”
The tote was almost as big as one of the brownies. Two of them carried it to her together, their faces tight with worry. And silent. It was eerie, all that silence from brownies. She took it from them.
“Zip it up, Lily, and sling it on your shoulder. Now go over to that wee little rope ladder.” He started walking along the ledge, keeping his gun trained on her, stopping where the ledge did about fifteen feet below and five feet short of the opening to the creche. “Very good,” he said when she reached the bottom of the rope ladder. “Climb it.”
Was he finally making a mistake? He couldn’t reach the rope ladder from where he stood, but maybe he was good at rock climbing and intended to cross the distance between him and the ladder Spider-Man-style. But he couldn’t keep his gun trained on her while he went up that rope ladder. It wasn’t possible.
Lily grabbed a rung and started up as quickly as she could. She kept expecting to feel the ladder tugged down by his weight, coming up it behind her. It didn’t happen.
When she was halfway up, she heard a mechanical roar somewhere overhead. A helicopter. She glanced quickly at him. He still stood on the ledge, gun aimed her way. “Keep going.” He made a small motion with his gun to encourage her.
When she’d nearly reached the top, sudden knowledge froze her for a moment. She stole another glance at him. He smiled, leaned forward—leaned right out into the empty air. And started rising.
Son of a bitch. Son of a bitch. He could teleport? That was impossible.
He kept smiling. Kept rising. And made that little gesture with the gun again.
Her fingers numb and clumsy with shock, she managed to pull herself up the last bit, rose to her knees—and saw him land several feet away. Too far, dammit. Too far for her to tackle him when she wasn’t on her feet yet.
A helicopter slid into view, coming over the top of the rocky hill, then dropping lower.
Tom the sorcerer smiled with his mouth, but some mask had dropped away. His eyes were cold now. Viciously cold. He raised his voice to be heard over the chopper’s noise. “Quite the showstopper, that little trick, isn’t it? Cousin.”