She often, physically, appeared young. Between her petite size and her smooth skin, from a distance Anna could easily be mistaken for a teenager. But Anna never moved like a teenager. She never moved like someone old, either. Not in a pained, rickety way. She and Ladon moved like ageless immortals who knew exactly how to kill everyone within fifty yards.
They were frightening. Ladon more so, because when his melancholy infused his mood, he became less predictable. With Anna, it was simply because she was utterly unexpected.
Everyone who knew them, though, knew which of the two Dracae humans was more dangerous. Everyone knew who had the better strategic mind and who had spent more of her life working around people’s expectations and prejudices.
Daisy hadn’t realized how much of a toll Anna’s “Anna-ness” had taken on her soul over the centuries. How, like Ladon, she needed relief.
And now AnnaBelinda, too, was about to sacrifice herself and her baby for the good of the world.
Anna stretched her neck. “Dragon says your babe continues to correctly draw nutrients and that he is developing well.” Anna gave her a quick smile. “She says to tell you that she now has considerable understanding of human fetal development and that she and her brother will watch you carefully.”
Daisy looked up at the ceiling of the bus. “Why?” It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that Sister-Dragon just referred to her pregnancy as a he, either.
A boy.
Anna narrowed her eyes. “It matters if you want it to matter, Daisy.”
Rysa looked up from her phone.
Daisy just nodded. What could she possibly say?
“You said that your mother remembered the Draki Prime giving the Progenitors a briefing,” Rysa said. “Ladon’s ghost also remembered me.” She set down her phone. “We will survive this.”
She looked as if she was trying to convince herself more so than Daisy.
“All of us,” Anna said.
Daisy grunted. “Do you two hear yourselves? Did you not catch any of the ‘fate has abandoned us’ shit? What was the past for the Progenitors will not be the future for us.”
Anna frowned. “I am a Progenitor.”
The numbness cracked. Daisy snorted. “Yes, you are. You’re a pregnant Progenitor and you’re about to die, just like me. Just like Rysa. Just like Ladon and Andreas and the Earth’s only two non-evil dragons!”
Sister-Dragon lifted her hands. They are not our people, Daisy.
“Of course they’re not your people. Everyone needs to believe the No True Scotsman fallacy sometime in their life.”
Anna immediately wrapped her arms around Sister-Dragon’s neck. “Trajan told Andreas that every single Praesagio Fate believes that Dragon and her brother need to stay hidden from the invaders, but they’ve been trying to hear them, anyway.”
Yes, signed Sister-Dragon. We cannot hear them. They are as invisible to us as they are to the humans. They are not Nest.
A new wave of energy moved between the two dragons, then along their hides. Their patterns and colors once again became complex. Daisy blinked. What was she seeing? Was this what Gavin picked up?
We do not understand what is happening. We do not understand why, Sister-Dragon signed. We are afraid.
Fear very clearly moved across both beasts.
“We’re all afraid,” Daisy said.
Our Nest would not have invaded, Sister-Dragon signed. Our Nest would have communicated.
Both dragons rose up. Both dragons turned in a tight circle in the back of the bus.
This is not right, Brother-Dragon signed. They have done a great wrong.
“I do not know the words for what they are feeling right now,” Anna said. “It’s like dragon-perceiving. Brother and I sense it but full understanding will never happen. Not with a human brain.”
Rysa rose from her seat. She reached out to the two dragons, her arms fully extended, and touched both their heads. “It’s not your fault,” she said. “None of this is your fault.”
Daisy wiped at her eyes. “It’s Aiden Blake’s fault,” she said. “He opened new-space onto the Earth. He made the conduit possible.”
Rysa leaned into Brother-Dragon. “It’s not that simple. It’s never as simple as one villain.”
But sometimes it was. Sometimes, all it took was one asshole looking to cause as many people as much pain as possible to destroy the world.
Anna stood in the aisle gripping the back of Daisy’s seat. She watched her dragon and her brother’s dragon, her face fully indicating that she talked to them via their bond.
Then she dropped her hand to her belly. “Pregnancy is not new to me,” she said. “Quickening is.”
She still did not look at Daisy. “We must stop what they are doing to our world.”
She paused for a moment. “Fate and destiny and the unknowns of the situation are out of our hands. The only thing we can do is maximize our chances of survival. You have said your piece with Gavin. I have said mine with Derek.” She nodded toward the front. “Andreas has said his with Renee. I fear that Brother and Rysa will not say theirs.”
Daisy opened her mouth to speak even though she had no idea at all what to say. No idea if words or just screaming would pass by her lips.
Anna held up her hand, silencing her anyway. She looked directly at Daisy. “We will maximize our chances of surviving this, and part of that is the dragons watching over our babes. Do you understand?”
No, Daisy thought. Were they watching for their own benefit so that they, as the dragons of the Dracae, could protect their own? Were they watching to maximize the physical health of two of their major fighters? Did they do it out of love or anger? Did the dragons have a genetic nesting imperative humans did not? Was this a manifestation?
Anna looked out the back window of the bus again. “You are now and will always be a scientist, Daisy Pavlovich.”
Daisy snort-chuckled a wet, frightened response.
“Rysa likes to say that the cave is a magical place.” Anna smiled. “That it needs to be protected because the process of learning to understand it, if not done well and with reverence, will destroy it.”
She returned her gaze to the back of the bus. “We will do our jobs, and we will do them intelligently. We will maximize our chances. That is the future ahead of us.”
With those words, AnnaBelinda Drake Nicholson, the human half of the Dracas, walked toward the front of the bus—off, Daisy was sure, to make the best possible plan with her co-commander and her Second.
They were the Legion. They were the world’s best chance.
And the Legion protected its own.
Chapter Forty-Two
Denver…
Trajan brought the world’s most dangerous Burner to Denver in a bright yellow jet with “Praesagio Industries” in an equally bright blue font along its side. The thing had a drop-nose like a Concorde, an A-wing shape, and a drop-hatch at the back like a military transport vehicle.
Daniel’s visual optimizers gave him the colors and the outline, but he still needed his present-seer to determine the details. Neither he nor Addy had ever seen a plane like the one in front of them.
Harold said he’d never seen any plane with a design like the Burners’ transport, either. It, like the long-distance mega-copters, must be a new Research and Defense toy.
Though Trajan’s “toys” were toys no longer. The jet, like the helicopters and Trajan’s highly-trained Fate and Shifter security forces, were now the linchpins in the many battles raging across Asia, North Africa, and Europe.
Billy Bare swore he’d pinioned the Burner Progenitor into his body. He’d made sure his handlers knew. He’d made sure they told their handlers. But no one could see the Progenitor who demanded to be called Terry. They had to take Billy’s word for it.
Billy, of course, was a Burner. No one took a Burner’s word on anything, so Hadrian sent Daniel, a ghost, to look in upon another ghost.
Didn’t matter how dangerous such a meeting
might be.
Here they were, the original Draki Prime, waiting in the cold night outside a supersonic jet painted in the same colors as the hell rings that had appeared on the horizon only hours before.
Daniel had met Billy Bare once. They’d had a moment when Daniel first began to emerge and take control of Addy’s body. If it hadn’t been for Billy’s singing in that bar outside Cheyenne, Daniel would never have found Ladon. He never would have lifted the shard and allowed his aunt Cordelia to see Ladon. Daniel never would have been able to help kill Aiden Blake.
The jet groaned. A thud followed, and a hiss, and the tail drop-hatch slowly lowered.
The Burner containment unit took up most of the jet’s interior. Billy’s one handler jogged down the ramp—he looked like a kid but Daniel’s present-seer sweep indicated that he was at least a century old. He nodded once to Daniel, Marcus, and Harold before putting his ear to his phone and walking toward the crew running out of the nearby hangar.
Seemed Billy’s handler had been expecting the original Draki Prime.
The containment unit’s one massive window gave them a clear view of the Burner inside.
A duct-taped, sword-pinioned man standing in front of the containment unit’s two seats was not completely Billy Bare.
A spotlight burst on and illuminated the entire back of the jet. Billy scowled, as did his ghost passenger, and flipped the bird at the light.
The Shifter kid who had disembarked yelled something and the light vanished.
Everyone blinked, Fates, Shifters, and duo-Burner. Billy’s passenger leaked cartoonish chaos—circling bluebirds and fairies dancing—before leaning out of Billy and pointing at Daniel.
The unit’s external lights winked on. A hiss filled the air. Someone had turned on the comm.
“That is not my vessel,” filled the air, but not from the unit’s speaker. The voice came from the overlaid little bronze man with the bleached-white hair and the German accent inside the chamber. He looked as if he wanted to do the annoying Burner jig—the two-step dancing they all seemed to do when excited.
Maybe, like Timothy, the data in Daniel’s optimizers allowed him to see another ghost, because that man had to be the Burner Progenitor. Only Burners were that obnoxious.
Daniel pointed at Billy-Terry. “I see the Progenitor. He’s where he’s supposed to be,” he said. He heard Terry, too. “Bronze skin, white hair, and a German accent.”
The enthraller kid who’d deplaned first immediately returned his face to his phone. Behind Daniel, Harold also dialed.
His seeing of the Burner Progenitor would be a small moment of good news in today’s hell. At least they had confirmation that their payload had arrived.
Billy frowned. “You have a vessel,” he said off to the side. His voice, unlike the Progenitor’s, came from the speaker. Then he scoffed at Daniel. “I would hope you see me, mate.” He sniffed. “Which one of you is in charge now, huh? You’re not that murdering French bitch, are you? Because I do not like her.”
Terry peered through the glass at Daniel. “Ohhh… I see a dead Fate.” He snickered. “There are two of you in there.”
Billy walked stiffly toward the glass. He waved at the security person running toward the plane with a wheelchair. “How the fuck am I supposed to sit in that, huh?” he yelled. “I have a sword in my side!” He tapped the damned thing. “It’s a special sword. All magical and such. It’s my own personal Excalibur.”
The enthraller and the poor woman with the wheelchair looked at each other.
“That’s right, you two tasty morsels, I’m the goddamned Once and Future King!” Billy laughed as if he found his joke exceedingly funny.
Terry, though, looked like he wanted to lunge at the guards.
Billy stepped back. “I don’t think you should open the door right now, anyway.”
The enthraller kid nodded and sent the woman with the wheelchair away.
Terry’s torso semi-pulled out of Billy, then snapped back like a bug on the same pin as the Burner.
I am going to figure out how you pinned yourself to me, insect, Addy snarled.
Be quiet, Daniel thought. I’m thinking.
Billy and his cargo each ran a glowing finger over the glass. “It’s the end of the world!” he shouted as he raised his hands high and turned in a circle. “I feel fine!”
Neither left a mark. Either they were behaving, or Trajan’s unit was more durable than he’d let on.
Marcus scowled. “I hate Burners.”
Billy flicked his finger at Marcus. “Everyone hates Burners, luv,” he said. “We’re universally disdained.” He sniffed at his armpit. “It’s the body odor. Can’t do nothin’ about that, ya know. Sorry, mate.”
Marcus rolled his eyes.
Harold looked up from his phone. “The Dracae are on their way to the base.” He held up the device as if looking to get a better signal. “GPS puts their bus currently on Interstate 80.”
“Warum ist mein Gefäß nicht hier?” Terry murmured in German.
“Harold,” Daniel said. “What does Warum ist mein Gefäß nicht hier mean?”
Harold thought for a moment. “Why isn’t my vessel here?”
Vessel. Terry had said the same word in English earlier.
“Why is he asking for a vessel?” Daniel moved closer to the window. One should never get too close to a Burner, even a Burner in a cage, but something drew Daniel toward the unit.
Billy’s eyes reddened and little wisps of Burner stink rose off his clothes. “I am his vessel, no matter what he thinks.”
Terry pressed his nose against the containment unit glass. His nose flattened slightly, then pushed through as if he moved his flesh through gelatin.
Daniel jumped back.
That unit would not contain the Burner Progenitor if he got free of Mr. Barston. The unit probably could not contain Mr. Barston, either, if he truly wanted out.
Terry hooked his fingers into the glass. They pushed through and curled around what he hadn’t touched. He made his own holes, except he hadn’t. No holes had opened. Yet he held on.
Billy tried to twist away, but Terry held him in front of the window.
“I feel your Jani present-seer,” he said. “I smell your Draki future-seer.” He grinned. “Little dead Fate.”
Daniel frowned.
“He’s taken a shine to Ms. Spectacles,” Billy said.
Terry inhaled as if smelling a roast after a week of starvation. “Oh, you’ve been touched, you have.” He inhaled again and his eyes popped open. “Würzig!”
“Leave the Fate alone, Terry,” Billy snarled. He pulled again, but the sword moved in his side and he groaned.
Marcus’s seer rang out. “I can’t read him.”
Billy snorted. “You thought you could? How arrogant.” He winked.
Daniel tapped the glass. “Why do you speak of a vessel?” If there was more to this than the Whispering One had told Dunn, they needed to know, and they needed to know immediately.
Billy hit the glass. “I am his vessel! The sword’s in my side.” He tapped Poke. “Me.”
“Kleine tote Parcae!” Terry slammed his forehead against the glass. “Every explosive needs a casing, ja?” Chaos dripped off his arm like syrup. It seized up in the air as it dropped toward the ground, as if the winter air Daniel stood in had frozen it solid.
It rolled toward the unit’s wall and vanished.
“The Shifters are building your casing, Maker of Burners,” Daniel said.
The chopping echoes of a landing helicopter filled the cold wind blowing around the jet.
Billy’s ride to the base approached.
Terry ignored it. “I was in that damned mountain for two thousand years. Alone. By myself. Only me. Then they send this boy to fetch me because I’m needed. Not because anyone cared. Oh no. No one cares.”
“We’re sorry,” Daniel said.
“No, you are not, little dead Fate.” Terry sneered. “What’s here is shit. What�
�s coming is worse.”
“We know, mate,” Billy said.
“I’ll be your artillery. I will bring the rock star with me into my glorious death because he’s a good boy and he deserves the accolades.”
“Fuck you, you ugly German wanker.” Billy tugged again, but Terry held tight to the glass.
“Why would I want to be around for the aftermath again? No one wants to live under Trajan’s thumb. So I will be the good citizen of Earth you all need me to be, even though it’s not going to make much of a difference in the long run.”
He licked the glass. “Not even your spices will help.”
Daniel leaned closer to the glass. The Maker of Burners smelled his optimizers? Or was the Maker of Burners scenting the new-data in its buffers? “What did my brother dump into the memory onboard my optimizers?”
Terry let go of the glass. He snapped back into Billy, who rubbed his eyes.
Billy coughed out a small cloud of Burner haze. “Love you too, mate,” he mumbled, then looked up at the intact window. “I don’t know how he sometimes damages the real world, and sometimes doesn’t,” he said. “Though he likes to talk about trajectories and vectors and physics.”
Harold pointed at the containment unit. His face softened, as did his voice. “Thank you, Mr. Barston, for taking on this suicide mission. Thank you for all you have done for the Dracae.” He stepped forward and extended his hand as if offering to shake, then held it up.
Billy opened his mouth, then closed it tight. He, too, held up his hand, but jumped back when Terry lunged at Harold.
“Sorry, mate,” Billy said. “He’s a bit unruly.”
Harold nodded. “When you are free of the unit, Mr. Barston.”
Billy looked away.
“We know about the chamber and the ammunition.” Harold pointed at Billy. “He’s asking for a vessel because we need a smart trigger. One that can figure out the timing and the directionality of the firing. We can’t just drop you into the top of the base and pray we launch you correctly, can we?”
Terry laughed. “The briefings were right! He’s a bright one!”
The Burning World Page 31