Authors: Deborah Cooke
It wasn't as if he'd been paying attention to his fellow
Pyr
for the last centuries, though.
And really, it mattered less who this
Slayer
was than that he could be beaten. Quinn surveyed his opponent's chest through narrowed eyes and found what he was seeking. He let the ruby red dragon carry him over the bell tower and waited for him to gloat.
He poked Quinn with one of his bronze talons and chortled. “Come, all of you!” he cried to his fellows. “The Smith has fallen and our work here is done.” He started to chortle again, but his laughter was cut short.
Quinn made a miraculous recovery. He twisted, lunged, and bit the ruby red dragon in the chest. He had seen that there was a scale missing and Quinn sank his teeth into the weak spot.
Quinn felt his victim's surprise, he tasted the darkness of his blood, and he knew for certain that this was an old and irredeemable
Slayer
. He bit deeper and harder, locking his claws around the ruby red dragon's chest and holding him in a death grip as he tore open the flesh on his chest.
The ruby red dragon screamed and tried to fling Quinn away from him. He thrashed and fought, to no avail. He bellowed in rage, then dug his talons into Quinn's back. Quinn tossed him away, certain the wound he'd made would slow the other dragon down.
“That enough fight for you?” Quinn taunted in old-speak, expecting another round of locked claws and battle.
To his astonishment, the ruby red dragon smiled, hovered, then turned tail and flew away. Quinn would have raged dragonfire to finish the fight, but two other dragons set upon him from behind.
He understood now why the leader had retreated: he'd left his minions to do his dirty work. Quinn swung in fury at such cowardice and caught the malachite green and silver dragon across the face with his tail. His powerful blow tossed the more slender
Slayer
's body against the bell tower roof. That dragon hit his head and slid down the smooth copper, leaving a trail of black blood that hissed as it corroded the metal.
In the heartbeat he had, Quinn saw Erik's second battling ferociously with a topaz yellow
Slayer
. The emerald and gold
Pyr
was not doing well and Quinn was inclined to help. In that moment, though, Quinn saw Erik emerge from behind the tower, presumably where the fifth
Slayer
had fallen, and fly to his companion's aid.
Quinn took a quick inventory: the malachite green
Slayer
knocked out, the ruby red dragon having left the fight, the topaz yellow
Slayer
fighting with Erik's second, and another
Slayer
down behind the tower made four. There had to be another of the attackers left.
Quinn turned slowly, but saw nothing.
He heard nothing.
He knew better than to believe that he was alone. He braced himself for assault.
A garnet red
Slayer
suddenly came over the roof and leapt down on Quinn. Quinn spun to defend himself, and locked claws with his attacker. This one was strong, his eyes burning with bloodlust that obviously affected his thinking.
Because he breathed fire on Quinn. Dragonfire could kill or fatally injure all
Pyr
.
Quinn was the Smith, though, and the exception. The dragonfire singed Quinn's shoulder even as it sent new strength through him. The singe invigorated him, the fire giving him new strength, making him brighter and better and more powerful.
He tore his claws from those of the garnet red
Slayer
and in the heartbeat of his opponent's surprise, Quinn seized him by the throat with fearsome speed.
“You call that dragonfire?” Quinn asked in old-speak. His opponent's eyes widened in fear and he began to fight Quinn's grip with new vigor. Quinn held him captive easily. “I call
this
dragonfire.” Quinn summoned his most impressive fire and loosed a torrent of it on the garnet red
Slayer
.
The
Slayer
bellowed in rage and pain. Quinn held fast as the red scales dulled and burned, as the scent of burning flesh rose. The
Slayer
fought Quinn's grip, but Quinn was older and more determined.
They had come to kill Quinn's mate.
This one wouldn't make the same mistake again.
The younger
Slayer
's eyes filled with fear as his scales were incinerated. He must have seen something in Quinn's expression, because he had the wits not to beg for mercy. Quinn heard the
Slayer
scream, first in old-speak, then aloud, felt him writhe, yet summoned the last increment of fire from his own belly and loosed it on the attacker. He felt the life force of the
Slayer
join his own and welcomed the surge of power.
That was when Sara decided to scream again. Quinn felt her pulse leap with fear, even though she didn't utter a sound. She needed him, but didn't want to distract him.
Without another thought, Quinn released the limp and charred dragon and let him fall. He dove toward the bell tower.
He moved too quickly, and didn't see that the malachite green
Slayer
he'd cast against the roof had recovered. The other dragon had hidden behind the corner of the tower and emerged only when Quinn had flown past him.
Quinn felt a brush of wind, and glanced back in time to see a tail closing fast. The malachite green
Slayer
struck a ferocious blow across Quinn's head, one that took Quinn completely by surprise and sent him tumbling senselessly toward the earth.
I
t was like something out of a fairy tale. Sara could hardly believe her eyes. The dragons fought with fury, their tails lashing and their claws tearing. They breathed fire and exhaled smoke, and their wings pounded against the night sky. When they locked claws to fight at close range and fell earthward, she was fascinated and fearful.
Sara had run to the edge of the tower when Quinn had fallen into the clutches of the ruby red dragon. Her heart pounded in terror that Quinn had been injured.
But it was a feint. He rallied and slashed back at the ruby red dragon and she wanted to cheer.
She did cheer when the ruby red dragon turned tail, a trail of black blood running from his chest as he flew away. Far below her, Erik and the emerald green dragon that had flown with him fought with a topaz yellow dragon who seemed particularly strong. She didn't think the emerald dragon was that experienced a fighter.
Sara was more interested in Quinn's fate, though. She couldn't stop staring at him, entranced as she was by his grace and power. He was magnificent, all silver and blue, gleaming in the night as if his scales were jewels. He fought with agility, practiced and aware of his capabilities.
“Potent,” said a man, as if he heard her thoughts.
Sara pivoted to find a golden dragon perched on the lip of the railing around the bell tower. He looked old and wily, and there was a malice in his gaze that Sara didn't trust one bit. His scales changed color slightly in the light, reminding her of the light that often danced in tiger's eye stones.
She caught her breath and bit back the urge to scream. She hoped against hope that Quinn really could hear her decision to scream and that he'd arrive shortly.
She had to stall for time.
Her attacker smiled a chilly smile and continued. “Quinn was always a good fighter. Passionate. Powerful. Calculating.” The smile broadened. “He learned that last bit from me.”
Sara backed away, distrusting the gleam in this
Pyr
's eyes.
He moved slowly, as if choosing a place to step down into the tower. There wasn't a lot of room for him, given how massive he was, and Sara thought that was his concern, but he seemed to be studying the floor. It was as if he was searching for something, but Sara couldn't see what he was looking at.
She knew when he found it, though. He sniffed, exhaling a puff of smoke, then smiled as he stepped very precisely onto the bell tower floor. He even lifted his tail with one claw, as if he were climbing a fence. There was no doubting his satisfaction.
“Those small neglected details can be so very critical,” he said, fixing his gaze upon Sara.
She didn't have to understand what he meant to know that she was in major trouble. “You stay away from me.”
He laughed at the very idea. “I can't seem to resist you, Sara Keegan. Maybe it's fate entwining our paths.”
“I don't think so.”
“We've met, of course, though we haven't been formally introduced.”
“That was you last night,” she guessed as she backed away. She touched her throat and he seemed to be amused.
“Sore today?”
“Of course not.”
“Liar! Don't try to win me over with guile, Sara. You're my assignment, no matter how charming you might be.”
“I don't understand.”
“Of course not. You're only human, after all, a species that is remarkably feeble both physically and intellectually.”
The trick was to keep him talking. “Maybe you should explain it to me.”
He paused to survey her and she didn't think he would answer. “Let me simply say that my fate has been knotted to that of the Smith for a long, long time. We have history, Quinn and I, although it will soon pass into memory.”
“You're going to kill Quinn.”
“You seem to be a reasonably clever human, after all.” His gaze turned, assessing. “Or maybe you cheated. Is it true that the Smith must mate with the Seer before our final battle?”
“That's what I've heard,” Sara said.
“How convenient, then, that the Seer can so easily be eliminated. It's almost too easy, really.” He turned to glance over the city and raised a claw to draw her attention to one side. “Oh, now things are getting interesting.” Sara looked, knowing that she wouldn't like whatever she saw.
Quinn was flying directly toward her, his eyes blazing with protective fury; then a dragon of striped green appeared behind him. Just as Quinn, sensing his presence, glanced back, the dragon hit Quinn across the head with his tail. Quinn stumbled immediately, the fire dimming in his gaze as he fell toward the earth.
It could have been a feint. Sara hoped.
She couldn't watch him tumble. If Quinn recovered, she didn't want her attacker to be aware of it. She forced herself to look at the golden
Pyr
, even as she prayed for Quinn.
“Oops.” Her attacker sighed with false regret. “It's so important to check one's mirrors, don't you think?”
“That's not funny.” Sara backed away, knowing her own future was looking grim.
His eyes narrowed to hostile slits. “I don't think we have to worry about any interruptions now, although I must say that I'm disappointed. A good long battle is always more satisfactory to win.” He winked. “But maybe Quinn should have taken the time to learn more from me than he did. Ah well. I hope you've said your prayers, Sara.”
Before she could answer, he reared back and filled his chest.
This didn't look good.
The fire came like a wall of flames. There was nowhere to go to evade it. Sara was already backed into the corner. She cried out and fell against the stone, putting her arms across her face. The fire was vivid orange, so bright she squeezed her eyes shut, so hot that she smelled the hairs on her arms singe.
“I think not,” interjected a familiar voice with a faintly British inflection. “It is inappropriate to fry the Seer.”
Sara found herself scooped up and tossed over the lip of the railing. She'd gone from the frying pan to the fire, so to speak. She was falling toward the ground, her singed skirt ruffling around her knees.
Then she really did scream.
Sara's scream pulled Quinn from the lip of unconsciousness. His fear for her mustered his strength, made it possible for him to regain his flying rhythm. He awakened, changed course a dozen feet above the ground, and lunged skyward out of pure instinct.
He saw Sara's falling body and adjusted his course, snatching her out of the air in midflight.
She gasped but clutched at him instinctively. Her eyes were wide with fear and he felt her relief when she realized who had saved her from death.
“Quinn!” she breathed. “You're all right!”
Quinn didn't answer. He flew with all the power he could summon. It was good that he had turned dragonfire on that
Slayer
; he needed every increment of power he had, and more.
His urge to see Sara safe was primal and undeniable. He held her close, cradling her against his pounding heart with one claw as he spiraled skyward.
He wanted his mate away from the
Slayer
s, away from Erik, away from everyone and anyone inclined to injure her. He felt her tremble against him and only now could acknowledge the depth of his own fear.
He heard someone take a blow, heard the keening cry of a dying
Pyr
, but knew his priorities.
He should never have moved without ensuring that it was safe.
He should have learned years ago that traps were set and that fools sprang them.
He should have known better.
It was only when he reached a great height that Quinn paused to look back. The air was a bit cooler at this altitude and the stars seemed close enough to touch. A few clouds gathered in the distance. Ann Arbor spread beneath them and the fields beyond seemed to stretch to the horizon. There was no one else close to them and Quinn relaxed slightly.
Sara glanced down. Her fingers tightened on Quinn and her skirt fluttered against his scales. “Don't let go,” she said, a thread of humor in her tone.
“Never,” Quinn said softly, feeling her shiver when he tightened his grip upon her.
She looked down then and he admired her resilience once again. “It looks like a quilt,” she said quietly and leaned her cheek against his chest with a sigh. “I thought you were dead.”
“I had that feeling myself.”
He felt the fight slip from her and felt her quiver again. Then he felt her thinking. He assumed she was reviewing what she had witnessed and in a way she was, but her words surprised him.
“They planned that, you know,” she said against his chest, her tone surprisingly matter of fact.
“What do you mean?”
“They divided up, to distract you and Erik and Erik's friend while the other one attacked me. They had a plan. They worked as a team.”
That might have been true, but Quinn didn't care. “Fortunately it didn't work. Were you hurt?”
“I think I'm going to have a bit of sunburn on my arms, but otherwise, no.” She looked up, her gaze filled with concern. “You?”
“Scorches and bruises.”
She smiled and touched the gash the malachite
Slayer
had left on his temple. Her gaze flicked over him and he guessed that he had several other wounds. “No big deal?”
Quinn was dismissive. “I've had worse.”
“I'll bet.” There was admiration in her eyes and her hands ran over his scaled flesh lightly. He had the sense that she was familiarizing herself with his dragon form and he was glad, even if her caress awakened a heat that was very distracting. “It's impressive to watch you fight.”
“I've done a bit of it in my time.”
They gazed at each other as the firestorm danced along Quinn's veins. Sara's eyes changed color as she stared at him, turning to a molten gold that only fed Quinn's desire. He wondered how light and bright they would become when she was more aroused, or when she climaxed, and he wanted to find out.
Immediately.
She touched his scales in wonder, then rapped her knuckles on them. “I thought they'd be cold. They look like metal.” Before Quinn could answer, she frowned and fingered a spot over his heart. Her touch made him flinch. “There's a damaged one here.”
“Yes.” Quinn was tense, disliking that she had found his vulnerability so easily.
“Why?”
“Shit happens,” he said, trying to make a joke.
Sara didn't smile. She studied him, obviously aware that that wasn't the whole story, but Quinn wasn't inclined to enumerate his weaknesses.
Not now. Not when he'd been so close to losing.
Again.
“Look,” he said, distracting her with the flurry of activity at the bell tower below.
The malachite green
Slayer
and the topaz yellow
Slayer
were hoisting the corpse of the garnet red
Slayer
between them. Quinn's eyes narrowed as a golden
Slayer
tumbled from the bell tower, his flight erratic. He flew down to the other pair, moving as if he were in pain, and helped them hoist the body of the emerald and gold
Pyr
who had fought with Erik.
An onyx and silver
Pyr
emerged from the bell tower as if he would intervene. The three
Slayer
s launched a torrent of dragonfire in his direction when he might have pursued them, and he fell back with obvious reluctance, but only after his third attempt. He watched as the
Slayer
s flew in pursuit of their departed leader, then began a quick ascent toward Quinn.
Erik was angry, there was no doubting that, even at a distance.
“We're going to have company,” Sara said, but Quinn was watching the golden dragon retreat. He couldn't be sure at this distance but there was something familiar about the way the
Slayer
moved. And his coloring was distinctive, with that flicker of tiger eye. Could there be two with scales of that unusual hue?
Had Ambrose had a son, one who had turned to the
Slayer
side?
“It was Erik who saved me, you know,” Sara said quietly. “I recognized his voice.”
“That makes no sense,” Quinn said impatiently.
“You might be wrong about him.”
“Didn't he also toss you over the rail?”
“It worked out all right,” Sara protested.
“He couldn't have anticipated that. He might have been trying to kill you himself.”
“I don't know,” Sara mused, but Quinn didn't listen. She didn't know the whole story and he didn't have the timeâor the inclinationâto share it all with her.