Dragon’s Fire
Page 5
When it was safe to move, Dr. Chen took the pendant from me, quickly slipping it back into the jade box. Then the impossibly acrobatic ninjas, masks back on, grabbed it and vaulted over the remaining flames, carrying the pendant away, hopefully to safety.
Dr. Chen held out a hand to his wife. “I can fix this. You won’t be charged or imprisoned at Blackthorne.”
Instead of being grateful, she thrust her chin defiantly forward and laughed. “You could never fix this.” Then she walked along the raised loading dock toward the dumpsters where the fires still burned.
“No!” I yelled, surging forward. I knew what she was planning to do.
Dr. Chen restrained me. “Let her be. She is bound by honor.”
“How can you say that?” I couldn’t believe my ears. Honor? How could there be honor in letting someone die like this?
She jumped, her body hurtling into a wall of fire.
Dr. Chen just watched, letting his wife throw herself into the flames. A more horrible death I couldn’t possibly imagine. It was a small mercy that her girls weren’t here to see her gruesome death.
“She will be reborn again. This is Eastern magic. Our ways are not the same as yours.”
A moment later, something fluttered up through the blaze as a firebird rose up into the sky.
Dr. Song had become a phoenix, reborn from the ash of the dragon. She spread her wings and alighted into the night sky.
* * *
Stryker and I stayed to talk to the fire department. A containment crew from the Society had to be called in to deal with the semiconscious angry troll and the damage to the museum.
Dr. Chen and his girls were long gone with the pendant in tow—taking it to some new location on the planet where hopefully it would be safe. I had the salt.
Once the situation was under control, Stryker said, “You saved the day, kid. Nice job.”
“Are you crazy?” I shook my head. “I nearly got the whole museum burned down. And I destroyed a fortune in priceless artifacts.”
“Oh, please. It happens.” He brushed off my concerns. “I’m the reason the Getty Museum moved from Malibu to a new building in Brentwood. But that was because of flood, not fire.”
It was true that the old Getty Museum had been closed and entirely renovated while a shiny new complex was built several miles inland. I suppose it was possible Stryker had something to do with that.
There was just one problem with his story.
“The Getty in Malibu sits on a hill, way above sea level,” I replied.
“It does now.” He winked then glanced at the gaudy gold watch on his wrist. “You better head home if you want to get any school work done tonight.”
I sighed. “I think I’m going to take the night off. Could I buy you a margarita? I know a little place over on Olivera with two-for-one margaritas, and I could sure use a drink.”
“I thought Stroud was waiting for you to come straight back?”
I wasn’t all that happy with Mr. Stroud at the moment. I had a feeling he knew this was going to be a difficult job but hadn’t bothered to completely fill me in on all the dangers.
“A quick pit-stop on the way back to the office can’t hurt. But if you’re too--”
“I thought you’d never ask.” One side of his mouth turned up into a sly grin. “Plus, I hear you have some ancient Himalayan salt that we can use on the rim of the glass. It’s supposed to be delicious.”
I laughed as we climbed into Stryker's Range Rover and drove off. He wasn’t serious about the salt. At least, I was pretty sure he wasn’t.
Also by Lysa Daley
Vampire’s Curse: Book 1
Siren’s Song: Book 2
Faerie’s Gold: Book 3
www.lysadaley.com
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