Wings of Stone (The Dragons of Ascavar Book 1)

by JD Monroe

  She stomped the gas, but the tires squealed uselessly like she was stuck in mud. She fumbled to get the knife out of the bag, but she had a feeling it would be like poking a T-rex with a toothpick.

  Was this how she was going to die? She’d always figured it would be cancer, or maybe some freak car accident. It was safe to say that she had never once feared being burned to death by a pissed-off dragon due to her involvement in a dragon gang war. At least she’d be unique.

  The golden dragon jerked suddenly, and through the open back window, she saw him receding, rolling on the ground in a knot of armored limbs and wicked claws with Tarek.

  “Go, go, go,” she ordered herself. She stomped the gas again, bumped up over a curb, and skidded onto the main road. There was literally nothing she could do to help Tarek fight, not when they were in their dragon form. What she could do was take away his worry for Ashariah’s well-being by getting her out of immediate danger.

  And that was what she did. She took care of her patients, and no matter how weird the circumstances had gotten, Ashariah was still her patient.

  Gabby floored the accelerator, heading for the interstate.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “In nine miles, take exit on left,” her GPS ordered. Gabby jumped in surprise at the voice and checked her rearview mirror for the hundredth time. The sun was rising on the horizon, casting an orange glow over the desert.

  Thanks to the double shot of Five Hour Energy with a Red Bull chaser, Gabby managed to drive straight from Reno to a few miles from Las Vegas, where her GPS had directed her. The excessive dose of caffeine hadn’t helped her racing heart, and she was sweating like she’d run a marathon. She’d seen no sign of dragons, but she’d also heard nothing from Tarek. And that wasn’t for lack of obsessive checking of both her phone and the lightening sky.

  That concerned her. Had he sacrificed himself to make sure they weren’t followed? Surely, if he’d survived, he would have called to let her know he was all right. Then again, his priority was Ashariah, not her peace of mind. Still, her stomach churned a hot wave of dread through her every time she considered the thought of that beautiful blue creature, or worse, the golden-skinned man who’d refused to look at his princess undressed, lying broken and bloodied with no one to care for him.

  No. That kind of thinking wasn’t going to help anyone. He was a dragon and he could take care of himself. At least, she hoped he could, with a desperation that surprised her.

  She followed the GPS and exited the interstate, following the side road until she reached the dingy-looking motel. She paused on the road, idling at the edge of the parking lot before turning in. Surely this was wrong.

  “Arrived at destination.”

  She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but this definitely wasn’t it. The building was a motel, and a crappy-looking one at that. A cracked plastic sign that had seen better days in the seventies read Drakemont Inn. Drakemont? Seriously? Wasn’t that a little on the nose? The dingy marquee below said Under Rennovations: Open for Bizness This Winter. Whoever had done it sure couldn’t spell. The parking lot was empty, but there was a light on inside the front office.

  Before she drove in, Gabby called the number Tarek had called her from earlier. It rang four times, then went to the pre-recorded message that informed her that he was unable to take her call and instructed her to leave a message. She took a deep breath, tried to calm her nerves, and said, “Tarek, it’s Gabby. Gabrielle,” she amended, remembering the way he said her full name in his faintly accented, precise way, leaning on the -elle. “I’m here. We’re okay. I was just wondering if you were okay. Give me a call.”

  She hung up and looked over her shoulder at Ashariah. The princess was still breathing, although she was still terribly pale. For a moment, she could only think what the hell are you doing? Twenty-four hours ago, she’d been aimlessly watching Netflix and walking on the treadmill in her living room before her shift. Now she was embroiled in a dragon turf war, entrusted with the safe passage of their princess and heir to the throne. It was so far beyond the realm of what she would have thought possible, but she couldn’t deny what she’d seen with her own eyes. And if it wasn’t real, that meant she was having a hell of a psychotic break, so she might as well roll with it at this point and enjoy the ride before she got the crazy medicated right out of her.

  Gabby turned into the parking lot and parked sideways in the spots near the office to make it easier to get Ashariah out. She winced at the sight of her car; the back windshield was shattered, and there were deep furrows where the gold dragon’s claws had dug into the roof and the trunk. Tarek or his queen officially owed her a new car.

  She slung the gym bag over her shoulder and went to the glass door. Her legs were rubbery with nerves as she knocked on the door. At first there was no answer. She knocked again, more firmly this time.

  Inside the office was a waist-high reception desk. It looked like any number of crappy motels on any highway across the country. Behind it was an unusually ornate wooden door that seemed rather out of place in the shabby office. After a minute or so, a tall man came from the doorway, rubbing his eyes. He yawned, approached and said “no vacancy” loud enough for her to hear through the glass. Though he wasn’t quite as tall as Tarek, he was attractive in the same way, making it clear he wasn’t fully human. Eerie, pale silver eyes raked over her.

  “Do you know Tarek?” she asked. “Wait. I’m supposed to ask for Shazakh. Is that you?”

  Narrowing his eyes, he opened the door and looked down at her. Without the layer of glass in front of him, she felt the real sense of menace from the man. “How would you know those names?”

  “I’m Tarek’s…” she trailed off. How odd it was that her first instinct was to say I’m his friend. She’d known him less than twenty-four hours, but it felt right to claim some sort of bond after what they’d been through. She shook herself. “I helped him with the princess. He told me to come ahead and tell you that Tarek…if and…” What was it again?

  “Princess?” the other man said forcefully, apparently not caring that she couldn’t remember Tarek’s full name. “Where is she?”

  “Are you Shazakh? That’s who I’m supposed to talk to,” she said, folding her arms across her chest.

  “You will speak to me. I am his superior.”

  Dread gnawed at her. What if this was one of the men who’d attacked Ashariah in the first place? With a deep breath, she crossed her arms. “I’m not telling you until I can talk to Tarek and be sure.”

  The man looked her over, then raised his nose. He sniffed the air, taking a long, deep breath. His gaze suddenly snapped to her car. Without looking at Gabby, he brushed past her, making a beeline for the car.

  “Wait!”

  Suddenly, a nightmare scenario played out in her mind. The enemy dragons could have tortured Tarek to find out where she was taking the princess, then flown ahead to intercept her. How would she even know the difference in their human form?

  Gritting her teeth, she unzipped the gym bag and pulled out the heavy, ornate knife. She’d cut into plenty of cadavers in med school, but she’d never stabbed a real human being. It wasn’t rocket science. Thanks to anatomy class and several years working the ER, she knew half a dozen places to aim that would cripple him with one blow and a handful more that would kill in minutes.

  Testing the heft of it, she stalked toward the car. The man was already trying to maneuver Ashariah’s body out of the back seat. “Get away,” she barked, hoping she sounded a lot more fierce than she felt. Shit, this was a terrible idea. He was huge. “One warning, pendejo. That’s all you get.”

  He whipped his head around and scowled at her. “Who are you?”

  “Get away from her,” she ordered, lunging toward the man.

  He moved lightning fast and caught her wrist, closing vise-like fingers around the fine bones. When she swung her fist on him, he caught it, then pinned both wrists in one hand so he could grasp her face with his free ha
nd. His grip was firm, but not painful. He lowered his head to make eye contact. “Tell me your name.”

  A strange sensation pushed into her brain with insistent, scratching fingers. “My name is Gabrielle,” she blurted. As he brought his face closer, she closed her eyes and turned away. There was something unpleasant about his gaze. It was the same sensation she’d experienced when Tarek first tried to make her release Ashariah to him.

  “Look at me,” he said, his voice resonating unnaturally into her chest. He was close enough to smell the faint hint of sweat from his skin. “You will stop fighting and walk into that door.”

  The push intensified, a pressure that seeped into her mind and made her ears and sinuses feel too-full. Something in her wanted to do it. It reminded her of college, before she’d realized her limits with tequila. Once she hit a certain point of intoxication, she’d have the sudden urge to go tell a guy how hot he was and smack him on the ass. Usually she was just aware enough to realize it was a bad idea, even though she still wanted to do it. This felt the same, a barely restrained urge that bubbled just beneath the surface. But she didn’t want to go with him.

  “Like hell I will,” she spat, twisting against his tight grip and pulling her face away.

  His eyes went wide and shocked. She took advantage of his surprise by kicking hard at his knee. Grunting in pain, he released her wrists. She tried to dart away, but a thick arm encircled her neck from behind, pressing in tight. Her pulse throbbed against the blockage. She beat her hands against his muscular forearm, even dug her short nails into his skin to try to hurt him. The hard, ropy muscle shifted as he maneuvered her into a chokehold. Her head pounded as her body screamed for oxygen.

  She knew the science. She had less than ten seconds before unconsciousness. Her self-defense classes came back in flashes. Using one hand to try to support her weight, she dug her fingers into the wiry tendons in his elbow.

  Less than five seconds now. Her vision contracted, with black slowly leaching in around the periphery. Tears of frustration pricked her eyes. She threw her elbow back, trying to catch the side of his head, but her arm sailed uselessly through open air.

  The world faded.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The pale silver dragon lay motionless on the cracked ground, her soft underbelly ripped open in a long bleeding gash from Tarek’s wind-blades. She hadn’t died yet, or her body would have transformed back into human form. Tarek hovered a hundred feet above the ground, trembling with the effort of flight and maintaining the illusion that concealed him from sight.

  It seemed that an eternity had passed since the fight had ended, though the dark sky and high full moon told him little time had passed. Finally, the silver dragon shuddered, and the pale scales melted away to reveal the still body of a woman, with the porcelain skin of her bare chest slashed open.

  Under different circumstances, he would have ripped her head from her shoulders and sent it to the Ironflight as a message. Likewise, he would have flown a few miles back and made sure the gold dragon was dead. Instead, he’d left the male dragon shuddering in a stand of scraggly desert brush, his bloodied scales melting away to reveal his battered human form. Tarek had taken that as a sign that death was imminent, which had been sufficient confirmation with the silver dragon still trying her best to rip his throat open.

  With his own strength failing, he had to be pragmatic. In his state, he wasn’t sure he’d make it back to the Gate. He had to fly while he still could.

  From high above the desert, he still had a vantage point of the burning motel. The low building was entirely consumed by fire now. The fire confirmed his suspicions; most of the dragons who pledged allegiance to the Ironflight were fire dragons.

  Frightened people clustered in the grass, gawking at the blaze. Emergency vehicles clustered around the inferno, their blue and red lights strobing into the night. There would be strange stories once people started comparing their accounts. Though Tarek had drawn the battle out toward the desert, they had fought for a while above the hotel, and even the cover of night wouldn’t have concealed their silhouettes entirely. So much for keeping the secret. There would be a hell of a lot of cleanup to do if they weren’t engulfed in all-out war tomorrow.

  With grim determination, Tarek wheeled around and began his flight to the Gate. With the battle over, his worries returned to Ashariah and Gabrielle. He had kept the attention of the Ironflight dragons long enough to let them escape, but he had no way of knowing if they had arrived safely. He could call ahead to Shazakh, but if he transformed back into his human form, he wouldn’t have enough energy to take flight again.

  Once, Tarek had the strength to transform between his forms at the snap of a finger, battling with equal ferocity in either form. Since the ambush that had left him barely clinging to life, he’d never completely recovered. It wasn’t for lack of effort; he spent most of his free time at the Gate training himself, but it was like he was inside an invisible cell. He simply couldn’t break past a barrier, and even more frustrating, he couldn’t figure out the problem to solve it. It was like sword-fighting an invisible opponent who made no sound and had no scent. He sometimes feared he would never again be the dragon he once was. The queen saw him as weak and ineffectual now, and he could hardly blame her.

  The flight to the Gate was grueling. He resorted to murmuring a hymn to the Skymother to keep his mind off the burning in his muscles and the ache in his chest. Between stanzas, his mind drifted to Gabrielle. At first, his concern had only been for Ashariah. He could have cared less if some human was killed in the crossfire, regardless of how pretty she was. And yet, when he’d seen Gabrielle care for the princess, then protect her, and then step up to carry her away to safety as if she was a sworn member of the Adamant Guard…something had changed. His lips might still swear that his full allegiance was to the queen and her daughter, but his heart no longer completely agreed.

  The sun had barely cleared the burnt orange horizon as Tarek landed in the parking lot of the Drakemont Inn. The effort of flight caught up to him, washing over him in a wave of exhaustion. His feet tangled as he hit the ground, and he immediately lost control of his dragon form. Involuntarily, his dark cobalt scales melted away, the bones contracted, and he collapsed. Sweat poured off him in rivulets, pooling on the dry asphalt below.

  Gabrielle’s small black car was parked parallel to the front office. The back window was shattered out, with deep claw marks down the back where the gold dragon had attacked them. However, his relief at seeing that she had arrived was short-lived. Her pink gym bag lay on the ground next to the trunk, and the blue scrubs spilled over the open edge. A sudden fear cut through his fatigue and got him moving again.

  Still stark naked, he stumbled up to the office door and entered the code on the keypad. He missed a digit the first time and swore loudly. After entering it again, he yanked the door open and bellowed, “Where is she?”

  Everything seemed to be going sideways as the exhaustion took over. He planted one hand on the desk to keep himself upright, then propelled himself past the desk and down the narrow hallway and down into the subterranean chamber.

  His younger subordinate, Shazakh, paced in front of the portal, a sword clutched in one hand. His dark hair was mussed, like he’d been in a fight. Tarek froze at the sight of him. “Oh, thank the Skymother. You would not believe what has happened.”

  “Where is she?” Tarek asked.

  “Ashariah? She’s safe. We carried her through the Gate, and the Adamant Guard is carrying her back to the Rise,” Shazakh said.

  Not her. His initial thought shocked him. Tarek had to pause for a moment to recover his expression. “That’s good,” he said. He hesitated. “What about the woman with her?”

  Shazakh frowned. “The Vak woman? She attacked Zafar with an Ironflight blade and resisted his persuasion. We suspected foul magic.”

  “She’s a human, you idiot,” Tarek seethed. The room swayed, and his stomach lurched at the thought of Gabrielle
under attack. “Where is she now?”

  “Since you were not here to advise us, Zafar said it would be best to take her back to Adamantine Rise and let them handle it.”

  “She saved Ashariah, you idiot!” Tarek shouted. What moron thought the Ironflight would send a spy in the form of a human woman? Shazakh tentatively stepped forward to grip Tarek’s arm and hold him up. The contact, overly and offensively familiar, sparked his anger again. He threw off the younger dragon’s grip. “Where is she now?”

  “Zafar already took her through the Gate,” Shazakh said. “Tarek, you must rest.”

  “I’m going.”

  “You cannot travel like this,” Shazakh said, going again to grab him.

  Tarek growled and shoved the younger man in the chest. As Shazakh reeled, Tarek drew a deep breath and took a lurching step toward the Gate. As he did, black fog pressed in around his vision, and he tripped headlong to the cold stone below. His last thoughts before unconsciousness took him were of Gabrielle, and the sinking realization that he had doomed her.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The world returned in flashes of light and sound. She vaguely remembered being tossed over a thick shoulder, her head swimming as someone roughly bound her hands. Just when she got the energy back into her limbs to fight, a blinding light enveloped her. Intense pressure surrounded her, like she was in a giant blood pressure cuff that kept tightening. Unconsciousness swept over her again.

  In the next flash, she opened her eyes to see a shattered gray landscape blurring beneath her. Cold air nipped at her exposed skin. Her body was chained somehow, and when she looked up, she saw her own wrists and ankles, secured with chains that were clutched in the sharp, black claw of a dragon. Her view was nothing but the pale green underbelly that faded into sharp, emerald-colored scales. Massive wings buffeted her with cold air. Their huge span blotted out the sun.