Mercy Burns (16 page)

“But how would that be possible? I mean, you must have gotten there quickly if the place was still ablaze. Surely they couldn’t have gotten rid of that many bodies so fast?”

“If the attackers were dragons or draman with full powers, and the majority of the town were draman
without
dragon powers, then it would be very easy to herd them into trucks and ship them somewhere else to kill them.”

“But your friend’s brother was a full dragon, and Rainey’s sister had full dragon powers.” And if they’d fought and somehow escaped—only to be caught and killed near dawn—then that would explain how both Rainey and his friend had felt their kin’s passing.

Damon looked at me, his expression grim. “Two against God knows how many? That’s not good odds in anyone’s book.”

“Meaning you think dragons
are
behind these attacks?”

“Well, it can hardly be humans. While most draman haven’t got dragon powers, they are, as I mentioned, stronger and faster. There’s no way humans could have wiped out a whole town so quickly and efficiently. And why would they bother? They’re more likely to want to stick us in a lab and study us.”

He had a point, but I couldn’t help adding, “Humans
have a history of killing things they don’t understand, and even draman can’t outrun bullets.”

“But there were no shots fired at Stillwater. I would have found evidence of it.”

“Which doesn’t mean they weren’t shot somewhere else.”

“No.”

I closed my eyes against the images that arose. I didn’t need to think about all those other people. I had the chance to save Rainey’s soul, but it wasn’t within my power to save anyone else who’d been in that town. Not even Rainey’s sister.

“Would the council have ordered the cleansings?” The urbane man who’d talked to Angus in the van had claimed that it hadn’t, but he’d also mentioned that muerte didn’t move without orders from one of the kings.

“No. If they had, the muerte would have been informed. We were not.”

I guess that was
something
. “So if not the council, then who? Could this be the result of several kings plotting?”

“It’s possible, though I don’t see what it would achieve.”

“Maybe they wanted nothing more than a reduction in draman numbers.” But if that was the case, why would they go to such lengths to keep their secrets?

There had to be more than that behind all of it. There had to be.

“So tell me,” I said, my voice suddenly holding a slight edge, “if a full-blooded dragon hadn’t been killed in these cleansings, would you have been investigating them?”

He pulled out into the traffic then glanced at me, his expression still cool. “He wasn’t
just
a full-blood. He was a king’s son.”

“And of course, his life was
far
more important than all the draman who have perished.” The bitterness was more evident this time. “After all, if draman aren’t doing the dirty work around the cliques or providing sexual services, what earthly use are they?”

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to. It’s a common thread in dragon thinking.” I shifted a little to study him better. “If it was a king’s son that was killed, why
isn’t
the council investigating?”

“Because the king prefers to keep the investigation private. This sort of news would spread wildly through the cliques, and might just drive the culprits underground.”

“And
that
was a lie.” Or rather, a fudging of the truth. While it might very well be a consideration for not getting the council involved, that wasn’t the major reason.

He glanced at me sharply. “And why would you say that?”

“Because I can taste it.” I paused, then added, “So what’s the real reason?”

He considered the question for several minutes, and eventually said, “Julio has heard whispers of a plot against the kings. He fears his son’s death might be the start of it, but he does not want to raise the alarm until he has something concrete.”

That raised my eyebrows. “Surely warning the council should be his first priority?” After all, the council was made up of the thirteen kings themselves.

Damon glanced at me sideways. “His son was killed in a draman town. How do you think the council might react?”

“Badly.” Meaning draman blood would be shed. Especially given they already considered us a major cause of their problems. It was surprising that a dragon king actually seemed
concerned
about shedding draman blood unnecessarily, but maybe they
weren’t
all tarred with the same brush. “I see your point.”

“Finally.”

I ignored the barb. “Well, our kidnappers appear to know that your actions are a result of
someone’s
orders. They kept you alive to try and find out who.”

“At least that explains their refusal to do the sensible thing and get rid of me when they had the chance.” His smile was grim. “Hopefully, it’ll be a mistake they’ll live to regret.”

That was my hope, too. We continued in silence, and eventually he drove into the parking garage near Pier 39, once again finding a dark and gloomy spot in one of the corners. I slipped my arms into the backpack, settling it across my back before following him to the elevator. Once we were at street level, we joined the dwindling crowds of tourists looking at the stores and enjoying the carnival atmosphere. Eventually we made our way toward the marina and leaned against the railing to look at the small group of sea lions.

Damon glanced at his watch. “It’s twenty past six. What time was this guy supposed to be at the boat?”

“Seven.”

“We’ll stay here for another thirty minutes, then move across.”

I nodded and crossed my arms on the old wooden
rail, watching the snoozing sea lions. The setting sun began to streak the sky with red and gold—bright banners that heralded the onset of night. The air burned with energy, the music of it so sweet and strong that I felt like singing right along with it. I raised my face to the flag-covered sky and drew in a deep breath. The energy of it flowed through me, renewing and revitalizing.

“You’re practically humming with pleasure,” Damon said softly.

“I’m a dragon,” I said without opening my eyes. “I’m just not as much dragon as you.”

“You’re draman. You shouldn’t be able to
feel
the energy raised by the dusk, let alone thrive on it.”

I opened my eyes and looked at him. “Can I ask you a question?”

A somewhat sardonic smile touched his lips. “You’ve been asking me nothing
but
questions. Why stop now?”

“Why did you kiss me last night?”

He blinked. “Your thought processes really don’t follow any logical path, do they?”

“No. Are you going to answer the question?”

He leaned forward and crossed his arms on the railing. He was so close that my skin tingled with awareness. “I kissed you because I wanted to.”

Part of me wanted to do a happy little dance, but I resisted the urge. “And now that you know I’m draman?”

He glanced at me, eyebrow raised. “You being draman doesn’t alter the enjoyment of that kiss, however brief it might have been.”

“So you don’t regret the action?”

“No.”

“Then why keep bringing up the fact I’m draman like it’s some kind of problem?”

“It’s just that you’re constantly surprising me, Mercy.” He hesitated and raised a hand, his fingertips lightly touching my cheek. “My reaction has nothing to do with you personally.”

His caress sparked the fires deep inside and a shudder that was all pleasure ran through me. But I stepped away from him, even though it was the last thing I really wanted to do. I needed to make him understand. Needed him to see
me
. Not just the draman. Not just the woman.
Me
.

Why, I don’t really know. It wasn’t like we had the possibility of a future.

Maybe it was just some perverse idea that if a man who didn’t believe draman should exist could see
me
—the person rather than the draman—then maybe there
was
some hope of a better future for us all.

“But it
does
, Damon,” I said softly. “It makes me feel like I’m a second-class citizen. Like I’m never going to be good enough, no matter what I do.”

He frowned and clasped his hands together on the railing again. “Draman are
not
dragons, and that is something you’re never going to change.”

“No, but we can change the attitudes that go with it.” I waited until a young couple had walked past, then added, “Because what you’re saying now is that despite the fact that some of us can do exactly the same things as full-blood dragons, we don’t deserve an equal footing. That we indeed
deserve
the punishments and death.”

“I’m not saying that at all, but—”

“There
are
no buts here, Damon. We live and breathe fire just like you full-bloods, and we deserve the same sort of respect.”

“You’re never going to get that respect easily, Mercy. The old ones are too set in their ways.”

“But I’m not standing here talking to an old one, am I?”

He studied me for a moment, his dark eyes as unreadable as his expression, then he glanced away again.

I sighed. “If you can’t respect me, what’s the point of kissing me?”

Still he didn’t say anything.

Way to go, Mercy. Open your big mouth, make your point, and lose any chance of getting down and dirty with Mr. Dark and Dangerous
. Maybe one of these days I’d learn to shut the above-mentioned mouth.

But then again, maybe not.

Because really, it needed to be said. I was sick to death of full-bloods thinking I was a quick and easy lay just because I was draman. Granted, I enjoyed sex as much as any other dragon—or draman, for that matter—but there had to be
something
there. And that something
wasn’t
disdain for what I was.

Unfortunately, full-bloods could be great deceivers, and sometimes not even those of us who had spent our whole lives around them could tell truth from lie. I wasn’t even sure
they
knew the difference, sometimes.

And I was fervently hoping Damon wasn’t one of those deceivers, because I had a feeling he could cause
me a whole lot more heartbreak than any of the full-bloods in my past.

I dropped my gaze back to the sea lions, who were doing little more than lying on their blubbery bellies, soaking up the last few embers of sunlight.

As the last of dusk’s energy and music faded, I pushed away from the railing and said, “Let’s walk toward the boat, just in case he gets there early.” Anything was better than standing in that depressing silence.

“Do you know the mooring number?” he said, walking close enough that the heat of him washed over me, chasing away the growing chill of the night.

It was nice, sharing someone else’s heat, although it probably wouldn’t last too much longer, because he’d have to flame down once we got near the boats.

“I wasn’t given that information, but the boat’s name is the
Heron
. We should be able to walk along and find it.”

“I think it’ll be quicker and easier to ask.”

“So we’ll ask. It’s not like it’s a major problem.”

“Except if we ask the wrong person, and we end up notifying our kidnappers that we’re down here.”

I frowned. “But we know what our kidnappers look like.”

He glanced at me. “We may have beaten two of them, but there are more henchmen than that in this little gang, I assure you.”

I supposed he was right. The truth was, I hadn’t actually thought about it, even though I knew it must have taken more than the four men I was aware of to destroy the draman towns. “We’re not going to Angus’s boat, though, but his friend’s, so as long as we’re careful,
we should be all right. After all, neither of us resembles our usual self.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It is when you look like a kid wearing your much-older brother’s clothes.”

A smile touched his lips. “I think you look rather cute.”

“And I think you’re insane.”

“You wouldn’t be the first person to think that,” he mused. “I can see the
Heron
from here. She’s the white-and-blue motor yacht.”

I followed the line of his gaze and saw the boat he was talking about. It was large and long, and had at least three decks. It also looked damn expensive. But I saw something else, as well. Or rather,
someone
else.

Angus.

His sea-colored head was visible for only a few moments, before he ducked down into the lower decks, but I had no doubt it was him.

“Our quarry is on the boat,” I said softly.

“Good.” Damon flexed his arms, reminding me of a fighter getting ready for the next bout. “You go straight to the boat. I’ll board via the rear of the yacht in the next berth. Between the two of us, we should be able to prevent an escape.”

“He’s a sea dragon. He won’t need to escape. He can just call the sea and drown us.”

He gave me a cool, calm smile that sent a chill racing down my spine. Death had reentered the building.

“Even the canniest sea dragon isn’t faster than a bullet.”

Goose bumps joined the chill. “And just when does a dragon need a gun?”

“Since I became a muerte.” He shrugged, and it was a surprisingly eloquent movement. “Burning is not a pleasant way to die, and I’d rather a quick kill before I burn.”

“So Death
does
have a soft side?”

“There’s nothing soft about mercy.” He smiled suddenly, and it was like sunshine breaking through rain: brief but glorious. “Although, if we’re talking about you, I suspect you have
lots
of lovely soft spots.”

“Which you’re never going to uncover unless you work on that attitude of yours.”

His smile faded. “I can’t change the attitude of a lifetime in a matter of minutes, no matter how much I might want to kiss you again. You ready?”

I nodded, too struck by the knowledge that he
did
want to kiss me again to say anything intelligent. We walked on. That, at least, I could manage—although part of me wanted to dance.