Miriam kind of liked the feistiness. She paused with the ax, caught by the confession. “Buck up, girl,” she said roughly. Abbie swiped at her face and nodded.
“One more,” Miriam said. “One more try. That’s all I can do.”
Abbie flashed her glowing finger around, and they both shouted, “One, two, three!” Miriam gave one last blow with everything she had across the remaining strands of green.
The ax hit concrete and a roaring sound sent it flying from her hands. Miriam cowered on the floor, her hands over her head. The cage shook violently, the rafters of the basement creaking in ominous fashion, but the mysterious black metal held firm. Miriam dared a look up and lost her breath at the sight of an enormous, blue-scaled dragon crammed into the cage, every inch of the barred space filled with a furious, fantastic creature of myth, complete with long, edgy snout and razor-sharp fangs. Golden eyes gleamed in narrowed slits with a predator’s clear intent. Miriam scrambled to her feet.
“You promised,” she cried. “You promised no harm.”
The dragon roared and grayish smoke trailed out of its magnificent nostrils. The cage shuddered under the onslaught of massive muscles slamming against magical steel.
“I thought we could be partners,” Miriam yelled, as she turned and bolted up the stairs. She stopped midway, whirled and realized she was grinning. Miriam peered down at the very pissed-off, absolutely fabulous dragon in her basement.
The door at the top of the stairs thundered open. “Partners?” Marcus’s unwelcome voice bellowed into the basement. He started down toward her, when a deafening roar shook the rafters.
Miriam leaped off the stairs and ran for the cage, remembering the deal with Abbie. Abbie had better keep her word about promising protection.
Marcus thudded after her, his eyes glowing with eerie white lights. He chanted as he moved to the cage, and Miriam recognized in dismay he was magic-making. She flashed a panicked glance at Abbie the dragon and then back to Marcus. They could all die here. Which wasn’t exactly her plan B.
Abbie responded by blasting a thick stream of fire toward Marcus. The fire hit the cage bars and instantly dissolved into hissing clouds of vapor. Again and again, the dragon’s fire blew and dissolved, until the entire basement was hazed with steam and dripping condensation. Miriam could barely see through the gray steam.
Miriam crouched in a fearful huddle as far from Marcus but as close to the cage as she could get. The temperature in the basement soared, and perspiration poured down her face. The poor dragon continued to thrash against its prison, roaring in hoarse bursts, even though her fire no longer blew.
Marcus cackled and clapped his hands in delight. “What did I tell you?” he cried exultantly. “A dragon-proof cage!” His white linen tunic was soaked through and his long, gray hair clung dripping to his face. He swung a sharp look in Miriam’s direction, and she ducked.
“Miriam.” Marcus’s deep voice boomed. “What were you saying about partners?”
Miriam frantically thought what to do, or say next, when she caught a flash of shadows at the top of the stairs. She knew, without a doubt, who, or rather what, was in her kitchen, and nearly fainted at the thought.
Chapter Fourteen
Dragon Fight
Fianna, Orla, and Guin sprinted across hardwood floors and plush carpeted rooms, heading for the source of the furious noise. The three-story house creaked and shuddered, as if rocked by an earthquake. Ear-splitting roars came from beneath them with the thunder of a freight train. They had definitely found Abbie.
They skidded into a kitchen dripping in moisture and discovered clouds of hot, gray steam pouring out from an open basement door. Fianna ducked to one side of the metal door, Orla and Guin to the other, leaning around to check the situation before they pelted down the stairs.
The basement was filled with steam, and a huge cage constructed with Blackwood shimmered with evil magic. Inside crouched an exhausted blue dragon, her drooping snout hardly visible in the clouds of moisture. Outside, a woman in soaking wet clothes huddled near the cage on the right. She looked straight at them with huge, terrified eyes and didn’t say a word.
In front of the cage stood an exultant Marcus.
Rage filled Fianna and her sisters at the sight of Abbie, abused and caged. Marcus had his back turned, oblivious to any danger. He chanted a stream of spells while tracing runes in the air with his hands, weaving dark magic and in the obvious grip of dracfire delusion.
Fianna gestured to Guin and Orla what she intended to do. “Remember not to kill him,” she whispered in a stern voice. They nodded, although Orla rolled her eyes.
The world narrowed to just herself and Marcus. Fianna tapped into shifter powers and launched herself in the air, landed on Marcus’s back and grappled his arms down in a fierce hold, limiting his spell-caster abilities.
“Get off!” he roared and twisted like a snake, cursing in furious Drackish. He thrashed in Fianna’s hold, trying to dislodge her, punching anywhere he could reach. Orla jumped on as well, and together she and Fianna managed to drag him down into an awkward crash, which sent them all tumbling onto the hard concrete.
“He’s starting to shift!” Fianna screamed. She lunged to grab his ankle as he scrambled to his feet. He kicked and hit her in the jaw so hard her head snapped back. He ran for the stairs, nimbly avoiding Orla’s tackle, and elbowing Guin in a vicious hit when she tried to block him. Talons flashed from his fingers and the muscles contorted in his face. He fled the basement.
“Abbie! Hang tight!” Fianna yelled, as the three Draca chased up the steps after Marcus. With a tremendous crash he flung himself through the living room window and out into the vast grounds, grown dim in the twilight. Cursing, the Draca rushed outside and anxiously scanned the skies.
“We have to stop him.” Fianna cried.
“Where did he go?” Orla took a 360-degree turn searching the surrounding woods. “How can such an old fool move so fast?”
“He’s still a powerful Draca, even if he’s losing his wits,” Guin muttered.
As if to taunt them, a massive, white dragon wafted, ghost-like, in the late night sky, wing span disappearing and reappearing as it flowed in and out of slate gray rain clouds. Marcus had broken the sacred rule of secrecy. The panic and chaos among the humans could be catastrophic, never mind the sheer exposure of their existence to the world. The power of a thousand-year-old dragon would be immense if Marcus decided to attack. In the grip of his delusion, who knew what he might do.
Everything had led to this moment. Fianna cast a last, confirming look at her companions, and when they nodded fierce agreement, she snapped, “Shift!” Instantly, the sisters-Draca transformed as one, and streaked into the skies over Portland to catch the renegade dragon.
a
Abbie shifted back to human, staggering and coughing in the ashy steam. “Get me out,” she gasped. “I have to go after them. I have to help them.” Dizzy, she fell to her knees, her angry sister-self pitching a riot of protest in her head.
Miriam was halfway up the stairs.
“Hey! Where’re you going?” Abbie shouted.
“I want to see what happens!” Miriam said and disappeared.
“Oh, fucking perfect,” she yelled after Miriam. “Thanks for the support partner. Goddammit!” Beyond frustrated, she swung her arm at the hated black metal and the ring on her hand made contact with a carved rune. A shock sizzled up her arm followed by a flash of light, and the sound of a distinct click. Abbie’s jaw dropped as the door of the cage swung open.
“Go, go go,” her sister-self screamed. Abbie started out of the cage, realized she was naked, and whirled to grab the blanket. She leaped over broken glass in the living room and through the shattered window to the backyard. Above, gathering storm clouds crowded the night sky. Light rain spattered in fitful drops. Miriam stood under the roof overhang, shivering in her wet clothes, watching the sky with a rapt expression.
Abbie cried out at the incredi
ble sight of four dragons weaving through the darkening clouds. There came the grumble of thunder, and a jagged bolt of silver lightning rent the sky, illuminating massive bat-like wing spans wafting inside the clouds. They rocketed through the brooding, black swells with furious intensity, like a nightmare come true. Their roaring shook the tops of the wind-tossed trees, shaking leaves down like confetti. The rain fell harder, slanting, driven sideways in the wind.
Abbie watched with her heart in her mouth, sick with guilt, and crazy to join them. This utter disaster was all her fault. She dropped the sopping blanket. Cold air chilled her to the bone, and her wet hair whipped in her face. She was vaguely aware of dogs barking, people shouting in the distance, and the sounds of sirens. Fianna would want her to stay here, to stay safe.
Screw that.
“Go!” Her dragon’s frustration boiled over. “Hunt, kill, chase, hunt, chase, go, go, go!”
She flashed a look at Miriam who pointed up, as if to say, “What are you waiting for?” That did it. Abbie shifted in exultant unity with her sister-self, and in strong, perfect rhythm, they shot into the air to join the chase.
The clouds expanded, roiling thicker and darker, casting shadows of winged creatures across the landscape, while growing crowds of awestruck people poured from the houses below. Abbie’s enhanced predator senses sung in a battle song as she tore after a familiar bronze tail weaving a jagged line through the vapor. She followed Fianna in a blur through the seething gray soup of clouds. On each side of her, Guin and Orla, emerald and ruby red, flew in tandem. Thunder cracked, drowning the sounds of sirens below.
Marcus, nearly half a mile ahead, streaked east toward the Columbia River. He roared his challenge, daring the group to catch him. Lights went on across the city everywhere they passed, the ferocity of the dragon’s flight like a supersonic, supernatural wake-up call to the unsuspecting citizens of Portland below.
The four surged ahead of Abbie. She didn’t have the power of the older Draca and couldn’t maintain their speed. She roared in frustration as she passed over a loaded new car lot and inadvertently set off dozens of car alarms. Abbie pushed away worries about the chaos they were causing below, and the possible consequences. She had to trust Fianna. Maybe the Queen would sweep in and fix everything with one of her spells. Whatever happened, Abbie was never letting Fianna out of her sight again. Once she caught up to her.
The dragons were now specks in the clouds up ahead and, not knowing what else to do, Abbie surrendered wholly to her shape-shifter nature. “Go get ’em!” she said, and let go, hoping for more speed. Ecstatic, her dragon surged ahead with confidence, to the accompanying tune of ambulances and police sirens below.
She caught up with the others and found Marcus corralled within the flying Draca. Fianna flew behind him, with Guin and Orla flanking to the left and right, forcing him to angle eastward. Fianna was heading for the sanctuary, Abbie realized. The Mt. Hood National Forest encompassed thousands of acres, with their sanctuary magically hidden inside. They streaked through the Columbia River Gorge, the sounds of sirens fading, while ridges thick with trees appeared below, and up ahead, the silhouette of Mt. Hood loomed. Abbie thrilled with the power of her wings pulling her through the wind, a new and intoxicating song humming in her blood. Like a third eye opening, her dual nature rejoiced. Two but not two.
She angled her flight near Fianna, and instantly merged into the telepathic connection of the sisters-Draca. They were one in purpose, moving in perfect unity as Fianna coolly directed the group.
Fianna blazed with fierce radiance, her magnificent golden wings wafting with enormous grace and power. She shone like a warrior queen, visible through the rainclouds, and Abbie followed like a magnet, the need to be close overwhelming. How could she, and her besotted sister-self, not want such a woman, such a dragon, such a goddess, more than anything she’d ever wanted in her life? And so it was there, in the rain-washed skies above the mighty Columbia, that Abbie lost the remainder of her heart to Fianna the Gold. Her sister-self had just been waiting for her to come to her senses.
Fianna’s attention swung to Abbie and connected in a fierce grip of shared emotion, warmth and reassurance blazing between them as they flew.
Abbie looked to Guin, winging like a massive, emerald jewel in a dancer’s dream, her scales lush and brilliant, and her clover green eyes gleaming with ferocious power.
And there was Orla, a streak of determined power, her ruby red scales iridescent in the gray fog, her hazel eyes dangerous and filled with magic. They were an incredible sight, and despite the gravity of their purpose, Abbie’s joy to be with them, to be one of them, pierced her to the core.
Ahead, she watched heavy-boned Marcus, full of ancient power. His wings were off-white with copper undertones, and he was covered with jagged rows of age-battered scales on his muscular body. His eyes glittered pale diamond blue. He didn’t fly through the fog as much as he shattered it, ploughing defiantly through the mist as if to beat back the relentless march of time, which all living beings suffered, even mighty dragons.
The three of them maneuvered Marcus with masterly power, directing him with subtle moves, while still allowing the old dragon the lead. Abbie stayed to the left of Fianna, observing with awe their deft and graceful flying, yet struck by the odd compassion they showed, as they allowed Marcus his place up front. Understanding flooded in through the shared link. The sister-selves were in sympathy with the extraordinary state of this thousand-year-old dragon.
The Council Leader and Head of Diamond House had lived for a very long time. He’d fought battles in the ancient times on Earth, he’d helped build and sustain the foundation of Dracan society. He had served his people, his House, and his Queen with honor for generations. Now, at the end, he’d succumbed to the ancient malady of dracfire. He just needed a little containment to help him to his final rest.
Marcus flew on, ignoring the others, a stubborn tilt to his head, his eyes narrowed on something in the distance no one else could see.
Chapter Fifteen
Dragon Reckoning
The phalanx of dragons closed in on Marcus after a time, Guin and Orla on each side slightly ahead, with Fianna creating a solid wall behind, offering no escape. His wings sank in resignation, and he obediently followed as they angled north. Abbie felt the snap of magic when they crossed the sanctuary borders and the immense relief of being hidden again.
After a long, quiet sweep of flight, Fianna winged ahead and dove, leading the dragons in a smooth glide over the silvery treetops. En masse, they landed in the dark meadow and shifted fast. Abbie understood why as soon as Marcus, his white butt flashing, took off running into the dense woods.
Fianna was having none of it. She tackled Marcus, whipped out a green magical rope and swiftly tied up the naked Council Leader. “There you go,” she said with relish, “That should hold you.” The others whooped in delight at her cleverness.
“Take me to the Queen!” he thundered.
“No problem,” answered Fianna and grinned a very wide dragony grin.
“Where did that rope come from?” Orla laughed.
Abbie couldn’t believe it. “That’s the evil rope he used to keep me tied to the cage. It kept me from shifting, too. How did you—”
“A dragon trick.” Fianna winked, and Abbie’s insides melted. An overwhelming need to kiss her choked any response. Fianna’s eyes heated. “Later,” she whispered as she strode past, pulling Marcus in her wake. The sight of her confident, well-rounded, naked backside made Abbie’s knees weak.
They had done it. Marcus was captured, Abbie was free, and the group of sister-selves sang ancient Drackish songs of victory as they made their way back to the cabin. Along the horizon, a wash of iridescent pink signaled the coming of a cold, clear dawn. Abbie’s sister-self was immensely satisfied at the turn of events and cackled at the sight of Marcus in the horrible green rope. She had suffered in that rope, and it served him right to feel some of that pain. Marcus walked with
a proud, defiant stance, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes.
The group stopped as the cabin came into full view, every window ablaze with welcoming light.
“Where’s the hole in the living room wall?” Orla asked. There was no sign of damage from the fight. “Nareen must have spelled the house again.”
“Now you’re in trouble,” Marcus said, as if he’d had nothing to do with it.
“What are you talking about?” Abbie asked. “What hole? What happened?”
Fianna shook her head. “We have some catching up to do. However, right now…” She took a deep breath. “Everyone, brace yourselves. The Queen is here.”
Orla filled Abbie in about the fight at the cabin, while Fianna moved quickly ahead with Marcus in tow.
The front door swung open as they approached the porch. A wonderful scent poured from the entry, a mix of oranges and cedar. The group, except for Marcus, sank to their knees and bowed their heads. Hurriedly, Abbie joined them, sneaking a look as she did. She lost her breath. The interior of the house shimmered with dozens of candles, bathing Nareen, the Queen of Draca, in golden light.
Nareen glowed like a goddess. Full breasts swelled from the low, rounded neckline and her iridescent rose silk gown fell to the tops of her silver high heels, hugging every inch of her lush, curvy body. Her reddish-gold hair hung loose to her waist. A smile tilted her red lips, and her large, emerald green eyes glittered with secrets and power. She gestured and the Draca rose from their knees.
“My Queen,” said Fianna in a low, respectful voice. She walked up the porch steps, still gripping the rope that held Marcus. He chose to glare in furious silence. Fianna’s tension and worry were palpable, and Abbie watched anxiously.
“Fianna,” Nareen acknowledged. “Welcome back.” She embraced Fianna and whispered something in her ear. Fianna blushed, smiled, and looked so relieved, Abbie’s heart swelled for her. Fianna had been incredible. She’d led the charge and gotten them all back safely. She’d even captured Marcus. When the shit hit the fan tomorrow, that had to count for something, right?
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