by JD Monroe
CHAPTER THREE
Soaring through a cloudless sky, with the brilliant colors of sunset reflecting off his cobalt-colored wings, it was easy to see why the princess would enjoy an excursion into the human realm. From up high, the desert was a thousand shades of rich orange and red, amplified by the setting sun. But Tarek couldn’t appreciate the beauty, not with the heavy burden of worry on his mind. His sharp eyes searched for signs of a struggle, for evidence of danger.
There!
He abruptly turned in a tight circle, beating his massive wings to hover as he grasped at the thin thread of magic. The Kadirai, the dragonkin of his home world, left tiny threads of magic in their wake, like the smoky white trails of the human world’s airplanes. They were hard to detect, but learning to follow them had been part of his training to join the Adamant Guard.
The princess and her entourage had left a faint bronze trail made of interwoven threads. It glimmered in the air like molten metal stretched into thin filaments and gave off a faint scent, a pleasantly smoky and earthy smell. It was faint, dissipating even as he watched. It had been some time since Ashariah and her guards had passed this way.
Tarek extended his wings, reaching out with his mind to grab onto the air currents. Like all of the Kadirai, he was born with an elemental affinity; in his case, he was an air dragon, one who could harness the power of the wind. Pushing hard against the air, he propelled himself at breakneck speed through the skies. The red-orange of the desert blurred beneath him as he flew, following the thin bronze trail.
A dark splotch far below caught his attention, and he eased to a slower speed, turning in a wide spiral. The metallic scent that drifted up into his nostrils wasn’t magic. It was blood. He descended, landing gracefully a few yards from the body.
As he got closer, he smelled the hint of death, a smell he knew too well from his years in the Adamant Guard. In his dragon form, his senses were enhanced beyond measure. Even with his incredible vision, he saw no movement and heard nothing but the faraway sound of road noise. The only thing he smelled was the unmistakable reek of death.
Tarek didn’t believe in taking chances. Though it was exhausting to maintain his dragon form, he remained so as he approached the unmoving body. If it was Ashariah…he wouldn’t be able to do this again. He could not look the queen in the eye and tell her that another of her brood was dead. He would put the blade through his own neck and spare her the shame.
The body on the ground was definitely male. Tarek felt a sense of relief mixed with guilt as he inspected the muscular frame. In death, the guardian’s body had reverted to his human form. Blood pooled around the corpse and reflected the waning sunlight.
Tarek recognized the silvery-pale hair, matted to the older dragon’s head with his own blood. It was Surik, who had been guarding the princess since she was barely more than a baby. He’d obviously fought to the end, holding onto his dragon form as long as possible. Though his body had shrunk and reverted to human shape, there were still glinting golden scales down his slashed back, and the hint of protruding spikes down his spine.
A jagged blade protruded from Surik’s chest. Tarek moved closer.
“I am sorry, old friend,” he said, his voice low and rumbling in his massive chest.
He reached out for the long dagger, his talons crossing and clacking against the metal. The pommel and guard were decorated in ornate, bejeweled carvings of flames. He squinted at the blade, trying to make out the thick-carved runes on the blade.
“Anakh Mardahl,” he growled. For the lands of Iron. Those bastards. The inscription was the rallying cry of the Ironflight, a nation of dragons who were the long-time rival of Tarek’s people, the Stoneflight. A tenuous peace had held between them for decades, but this was an act of war.
Jolted by adrenaline, Tarek snapped to attention. If Surik, one of the greatest warriors in Queen Halmerah’s guard had been felled, then Ashariah and her remaining guards, both young and relatively new, faced a formidable foe. He wanted to believe that Dakhar and Halcin would see her home safely, but he would not hang Ashariah’s fate on hope alone.
Tarek spared one final look at Surik. There were rituals to be conducted, pleas to the Skymother to take the fallen dragon to her honored halls. His ashes were to be taken home to Ascavar, where his body would return to the earth. But there was no time.
“I’m sorry,” Tarek murmured. He maneuvered the incriminating dagger under the leather strap around his shoulder. Leaving the dead dragon behind, he took to the sky. He found Ashariah’s trail once more, locking his attention onto the glimmering bronze particles.
Tarek hated being right, at least when it involved what his comrades called paranoia. He often suspected danger, but he was often wrong. But was it better to be wrong because everything was fine, or to be wrong and unprepared when everything had turned to chaos?
He flew faster, running through the scenarios in his mind. If the flame dragons of the Ironflight had attacked en masse, then the princess was surely dead. And they would be at war once again.
Tarek was struck by an image of Ashariah lying in the desert with a sword through her heart, wide blue eyes open and unseeing as they stared at him in silent accusation. It took his breath away, and he lost his focus on the trail for a moment.
You don’t know yet, he reminded himself. He had to hope that she lived. Forcing down the dread twisting his guts into knots, he searched again for her trail and latched onto it like a drowning man with a life rope. The faint glimmer kept him moving, forcing his huge wings to move faster as he cut through the sky. The thread of magic drew him northwest, farther and farther from the Gate.
His entire body ached and burned with the effort of flying so fast, but he pressed forward. Reaching down into the spark of magic inside him, he manipulated the air around him to cut through the sky like an arrow from a bow.
The sun had just dipped below the horizon when a city came into sight. Neon lights threw a rainbow haze into the darkening sky, glowing against the dark backdrop of mountains.
Tarek changed tactics then, allowing his pace to slow as he wrapped the air around himself like a shimmering curtain. The mirage would hide his passage, preventing any inquisitive eyes from noticing him as he flew over the city.
Ashariah’s trail was dense and strong as he approached the human development. The stronger it grew, the more crooked it grew. It was like she’d had difficulty flying, dipping low before recovering some speed for a few seconds. Then it plummeted and ended abruptly in a dark stretch of asphalt.
Tarek landed silently beside the road, following the tangled trail to its end a few feet off the roadside. Along the trail, his eyes found the bright glint of scales, the opalescent lavender of Ashariah’s dragon form. The scent of blood was strong here, laced with the acrid smell of fear.
But with all the signs of her fall, there was no Ashariah. There were no footprints to indicate that she’d walked away, but there were tire treads in the soft dirt alongside the road.
Where was she?
Tarek was torn as he stood at the edge of the road. One way led back into the desert, while the other led into the city. Ashariah had been hurt somehow, likely by the Ironflight. Where were Dakhar and Halcin? He’d seen no sign of the other guards, which meant they’d either gone after Ashariah, been taken prisoner, or left for dead somewhere in the desert.
And what did the tire treads mean? Had the Ironflight resorted to human vehicles and technology? They might have driven her somewhere to hold her captive.
Reaching deep into his rapidly waning magic, Tarek called upon the air once more and tuned into his sense of smell. A thousand smells vied for his attention: the dry dust of the desert, a dozen brands of motor oil splattered and baked into the old asphalt, a sewage line a quarter mile away. Like a tiny thread in a tapestry, he found her smell; the smoky, earthy smell of her magic wrapped in the stink of fear and pain. He tugged it mentally, feeling it tug back and set him in the right direction.
With
his eyes closed, he took a tentative step toward the scent. After another few steps, he peeked to see himself drawing nearer to the city. She’d gone that way, into the throng of humanity.
Ducking behind a rocky outcropping, Tarek released his hold on his dragon form. His bones ached, and his skin burned molten hot for an agonizing minute as he returned to his human form. It took longer than usual to catch his breath, thanks to his furious flight from the Gate.
The transformation left him naked as a babe, but the enchanted leather satchel was still hooked over his shoulder. The magic-enhanced strap had expanded to accommodate his large frame, while protecting the cargo inside the bag. The cool night air nipped at his bare skin, and he shivered as he took his stowed clothing from the satchel. He hurried to dress, leaning against the rock for balance as the dizzying rush of magic dissipated. With one shoe still half hanging off his foot, he broke into a brisk jog down the road toward town.
God, he hated being right.
CHAPTER FOUR
“This can’t be right,” Gabby said.
“You keep saying that,” Suzanne said. “I’m just the messenger.”
Gabby flipped the report over again. She’d been called back down to the ER to check out a kid who’d busted his head open trying to do skateboard tricks. After a dozen stitches and making him promise not to try any more half pipe or whatever crap he’d been doing, she’d sent him on his way with a note to miss school for a few days, much to his delight, and a brochure on concussion symptoms for his mother to watch. Upon returning to the trauma unit, Suzanne had handed over Jane Doe’s bloodwork report.
Not found.
There was a yellow sticky note on top of the report with a handwritten note that said bad sample – administer O- for now and get fresh sample ASAP.
“Did you contaminate the sample?” Gabby asked.
Suzanne scowled in response. “You watched me do the draw, Dr. Rojas.”
“You’re sure you didn’t get something in it?”
Suzanne planted her gloved hands on her broad hips. “How?”
Sassy attitude aside, she was right. Gabby had watched her unwrap a sterile syringe, connect it to one of Jane Doe’s IVs, and draw a sample directly into the testing vial. There was no way to contaminate it.
“Okay, I believe you,” Gabby said. Irritation flared in Suzanne’s eyes. The woman was an excellent nurse, but she had a Scottish temper and a stubborn streak almost as strong as Gabby’s. It made her a good trauma nurse but they’d butted heads plenty of times. “Do another one.”
“Doctor—”
“I’m not saying you did anything wrong,” Gabby interrupted. “Maybe they spilled something or ran the machine wrong. Just do it, please. Do a fresh stick just in case so we know it’s not on our end, okay?”
Suzanne sighed and walked back out of the room to get supplies to do another blood draw. Gabby turned back to inspect Jane Doe. She’d been out of the room for almost half an hour, but to look at the woman in the bed, it could have been days. Where her face had been nearly purple with bruises, some of the bruising had already spread and turned sickly greenish-yellow. The cut on her brow had healed completely, leaving a puckered pink scar. If not for the sudden break in her eyebrow, she’d never have known it was cut.
Jane Doe was not normal.
And she certainly hadn’t forgotten the bizarre vision. It was probably the result of too many long shifts and too much coffee. Gabby’s mother frequently warned her that all that caffeine would rot her brain and make her sick. Though Gabby was the only one of the Rojas family to go to medical school, she had to admit her mother might have a point. Sleep deprivation could cause hallucinations and other cognitive disturbances. And her vivid vision of dragons in the desert certainly qualified as a cognitive disturbance.
She’d been in the middle of tying off Cody Brown’s stitches when she’d finally accepted that she’d hallucinated about being a dragon. Not just seeing one, but being a damn dragon, complete with wings and scales and claws. What the hell was that all about? If she was going to have a daytime hallucination, her caffeine-saturated brain could have at least had the decency to give her a hot tub romp with the Chippendales or something else equally unbelievable as a dragon.
And as long as it had taken to wrap her brain around dragon, she still wasn’t ready to acknowledge the part of her brain that whispered, you know it wasn’t a hallucination. The vision didn’t have the hazy, surreal feel of a dream. And it didn’t slip through her fingers like sand when she thought about it, the way a fleeting hallucination would. It was solid and real, like a memory.
Which didn’t make one bit of sense.
Gabby folded her arms, leaning against the counter as she watched Jane Doe. What the hell was she dealing with here? She’d always believed that there were scientific answers for everything. Even the most mysterious symptoms and illnesses had an explanation; it was simply a matter of putting the puzzle together correctly.
Some people did heal quicker than others. But no one went from bone-deep cut to completely healed in a few hours. Furthermore, every human in existence had one of four blood types. So what did that make Jane Doe?
It had to be a machine error, contamination in the sample, or maybe the technician simply made a mistake. There could have been any number of explanations. But if another came back with the same results…
“Oh wonderful,” Suzanne said from outside. Gabby frowned and looked up to see the nurse standing at the door with a handsome man looming behind her. “Dr. Rojas, this is—”
“Derek,” he said warmly. Well, he was a looker. Suzanne looked like she was ready to hump his leg if he held still for too long. Not that Gabby could blame her. Derek was tall and broad-shouldered, with smooth olive skin and thick dark hair that looked wind-blown in that perfectly sexy underwear model way. His body was concealed in a pair of dark jeans, a snug t-shirt, and a leather jacket, but the wiry tendons on his neck and veins on the backs of his hands told her he was shredded underneath his clothes. She could start an IV on that guy blind. That was, if she could quit staring into those amber eyes that felt like they were burning right through her skull. “I heard about your Jane Doe. I came to identify her.”
“Isn’t that wonderful?” Suzanne said. The dreamy tone in the nurse’s voice jarred Gabby. Suzanne had been single a while, but he wasn’t that sexy.
Okay, he really was, but being hot didn’t mean he got to bypass security. And considering Jane Doe’s condition, Gabby wasn’t going to let some strange guy walk in and endanger her. For all she knew, he’d beaten her bloody and left her for dead, and now he was here to finish his work. Well, not on Dr. Rojas’ watch. Jane Doe didn’t have anyone else, so Gabby would protect her like she would have her own little sister. With rules and regulations first, and then with tooth and claw if she had to.
“Who are you?” Gabby said sharply.
Derek cocked his head. “I’m her fr—her brother.”
“Which is it? Friend or brother?”
He looked confused as he extended his hand. “I’m sorry, we didn’t meet properly. Thanks, Suzanne,” he said. “We’ve got this.” Suzanne smiled dreamily, then turned and walked back to the nurse’s station without a second glance.
Okay, what the hell was going on? Suzanne had called for security once because a visitor left his backpack outside her station and she thought it might be a bomb.
Gabby stepped forward, regarding him warily as she put her body between him and Jane Doe. She didn’t offer her hand, instead keeping her arms crossed over her chest. “Why don’t we go talk outside at the nurse’s station?” Out where there were other people, including a couple of armed police officers watching the attempted convenience store robber who’d managed to break his leg while robbing a gas station.
Her heart thumped, and she tried to keep from flinching as Derek took another step toward her. His hand brushed against her upper arm. Even through the dense fabric of her lab coat, she felt the burning warmth in h
is touch. It sent a shiver up her spine, which annoyed her to no end. She wasn’t some silly girl who went all weak-kneed at the sight of an attractive man.
“Everything’s fine,” he said, locking his warm golden gaze on her. “This is my sister. And you don’t have to worry about her now.”
“What are you talking about?” There was something odd about his voice. It was sweet and warm, and she suddenly felt the warm rubbery sensation in her legs that usually came with too many glasses of white wine at happy hour. It wasn’t just because he was attractive. He was doing something to her, like Jane Doe had done something to her.
His eyebrow perked. “Really, Dr.…Rojas. You can release her to me.” He pronounced her name wrong, pronouncing it like an English j. She was about to correct him, but his hand closed around her upper arm suddenly, his strong fingers digging into her bicep. “You can trust me.” His amber eyes narrowed as he stared her down.
The rubbery sensation intensified, surging up through her chest and toward her head. She felt dizzy as she looked in his eyes, but his voice was far away, like someone trying to talk as she sank underwater.
He kept talking, but something far more interesting was happening. Behind the decidedly man-shaped frame, there was a shimmer in the air, like a mirage in the distance on a desert road. But the mirage had a definite shape; the shimmer was made of dark blue particles, and they hung in midair in the form of a great wingspan that filled the room. And his eyes were something to behold, glowing like the burning heart of a volcano.
Gabby reached back and put one hand on the plastic bed railing. She shook off Derek’s grasp. The illusion broke, and he returned to normal. But in her mind’s eye, she still saw the outstretched wings. Dragon wings. No way. “What the hell are you?”
His jaw dropped. He looked down like he was expecting to see something on his shirt, then back up at her. Then he looked over his shoulder, then back at her. “What do you mean?”