The Dragon Legion Collection 9 (42 page)

Tisiphone was skeptical that that would happen. She eyed the bridge and knew she was in the future, maybe even at the point in time forecast by Hera when the darkfire would be set free. At the very least, she’d need time to orient herself, to locate the
Pyr
and to discover whether the elemental daughters had mated with the dragon shifters.

Viv Jason might be of assistance in Tisiphone’s quest, or she might provide a nice snack herself.

* * *

Aura looked up to find Hera watching her.

“You will love him more even than you do now,” the goddess murmured.

“Not if he dies! Can you help him, Hera?”

Hera didn’t reply, just extended her hand. Aura knew exactly what she wanted, and dared to hope its power would be enough. She removed the golden apple from her tunic and surrendered it to the goddess to whom it rightfully belonged. “I am sorry that I stole it, Hera. I am sorry that I gave him a bite...”

“But you had to know the truth of his heart.” The goddess smiled. “I know you would not be cavalier with such treasures, Aura. I raised you, after all.”

Aura bowed low. “Thank you for banishing
she-who-should-not-be-named...”

“She’s not gone, Aura, not really. She is outside of time, waiting for her opportunity. I can’t undermine an edict of Hades, but I could delay it. You and your
Pyr
will be safe from her, as will your children and their children, but one day, the dragons will have to answer for her sister’s death.”

“I understand.” Aura smiled at the goddess who had been like a mother to her. “Thank you.”

Hera smiled back at her, then considered the apple. She took a bite of it herself, then to Aura’s surprise, the goddess knelt by the fallen pilgrim. Aura had thought he was dead, but he moaned softly, apparently realizing Hera was near.

“Great lady, I am sorry that you see me in this state. I would worship you, if I could,” he whispered.

Hera removed the piece of apple from her mouth and smiled. “You have shown your true measure in being kind to an old beggar woman,” she said quietly. “And by offering the last of your provisions to another.” She touched his lip and placed the piece of apple in his mouth. “And here, pilgrim, is your reward.”

He closed his eyes and sighed, as if overwhelmed by the taste. “This can’t be...”

“But it is. My gift to you, friend. Savor it, and it will see you healed.”

A tear slid from the corner of the pilgrim’s eye, creating a track in the dust on his cheek. “I knew that only the goddess could save me,” he whispered.

“And so she has,” Hera agreed, bending to kiss his forehead.

Aura could see the pilgrim’s color changing, his skin turning to a more healthy hue even as she watched. She was impatient for Hera to share her gift with Thad, but knew better than to rush the goddess. She waited, hands knotted together, gaze flicking to Thad, and watched.

“Sleep now,” Hera bade the pilgrim. “When you awaken, you will be healed.”

But he clutched at her hand, apparently amazing himself with his audacity and ability to move. “But lady, I would serve you, wherever you bid me to. You have given me back my life, and I surrender it to you.” He gestured to his missing arm. “Whatever I can do.”

Hera stood up and looked down at him, her expression benign. “Would you be happy if you worked in my garden?”

“I can’t imagine anything better.”

“Then sleep,” Hera said. “And when you awaken, you will find yourself there.” She bent and kissed his brow again, and the pilgrim fell into a peaceful slumber.

Then Hera turned her gaze upon Aura.

She held up the apple, clearly anticipating Aura’s question. “It won’t help him,” she said quietly. “He has already eaten of it and you have seen the sum of its influence on him.”

“He can’t die!”

“All creatures can die, Aura. Only his own kind can help him.”

“But I don’t know where to find them, or how to summon them.”

Hera watched Aura for a long moment, clearly noting the dimmed glow of the firestorm. “What will you do, Aura?”

“He said we were destined mates. I will stay with him, until the end, whenever that is.” The tree shimmered over Aura’s head, a sweet melody that made her feel her mother agreed with her choice.

“And what of the firestorm?”

“Maybe the heat of it will help him. Maybe if I stay close, he will remain warm.”

“Do you understand why it wasn’t satisfied?”

Aura shrugged. “Because I didn’t want it to be?”

Hera shook her head. “Even your will isn’t enough for that,” she said. “Tell me about the firestorm.”

“It’s the sign that a
Pyr
has met the woman who can bear his son...”

“Woman,” Hera repeated, interrupting Aura. “You are a nymph. A woman is mortal. A nymph is immortal. The firestorm is keyed to the connection between
Pyr
and the treasures of the earth they defend.”

“Mortals,” Aura murmured. “And the elements.” She looked up at Hera. “Can you make me mortal?”

The goddess stilled “Are you sure?”

“He wanted the firestorm to be satisfied so badly. Maybe it would make a difference to him.”

“It would make a difference to you,” Hera reminded Aura. “And it would be no guarantee. You would be unable to find my garden, ever again, for example.”

A lump rose in Aura’s throat. She considered Thad and knew that if he’d been healthy, the choice would have been no choice at all. As it stood, she was taking a chance. But she remembered the joy of flying with him, the risk they’d taken together and their exuberance when they had succeeded in reaching this place. She thought of his conviction and his sense of purpose, and she knew that even if the chance of fulfilling his firestorm was small, she had no choice but to try.

She would willingly have Thad’s son.

She knew that being mortal would allow her to do that, but she didn’t want to lose the magic of their flight together. She liked that they were both shifters and they way they had frolicked in the air. She was glad that she’d been able to help him in his battle against Ladon, too. She didn’t want to surrender all that she was, even to make his dream come true.

She wanted them both to remain what they were and be stronger together.

Then she remembered Nephele’s story. “Those daughters of the elements,” she said to Hera. “The ones you included in your prophecy.” The goddess inclined her head. “Are there Airdaughters in their number?”

Hera smiled. “Of course. There are daughters associated with each of the four elements, although they are few in number.”

Aura got to her feet and met the goddess’s gaze. “Would you make me mortal, Hera?” she asked. “Would you make me an Airdaughter, please?”

The goddess took a step closer and framed Aura’s face in her hands. She bent to kiss her cheeks, one after the other. “I promised your mother to raise you as my own, and to do my best to ensure you found happiness.” She looked into Aura’s eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Hera. Please,” Aura said with conviction, then bowed her head.

She felt the touch of the goddess’s lips on the top of her head, even as the air cooled all around her. “Blessed be,” Hera whispered and Aura felt a strange shimmer pass through her body. It was like the tingle that accompanied her changing shape, but was colder and more vehement. She understood that her very nature was being changed.

And she was glad.

She shivered then opened her eyes, wanting to see the world shift as a result of her changed nature. For a moment, everything was just as it had been. Hera stood before her, her lips curved in a sad smile. The goddess blew a kiss at her, then bent to lift the pilgrim into her arms. He might have weighed as little as a feather for all the strain she showed.

A fine mist was descending, one that obscured the hills and the road and filled the air with moisture. Hera turned and stepped into the mist, her figure lost to view, even as she took the road that led uphill.

“I’m sorry, Aura,”
whispered Nephele. Aura was glad the shrouding mist was someone she knew.

“I’m not,”
she replied in kind.
“I never will be, Nephele, although I will miss you all.”

The tingle slid from the tips of Aura’s fingers and toes, releasing a faint shimmer in the mist. Aura didn’t know if she would be able to see Nephele or the other nymphs again, or whether they would have to reveal themselves to her by choice. She wasn’t sure what would remain of her powers and what would be lost.

But she wanted to explore it all with Thad.

She wasn’t really surprised to discover that she was alone on a deserted hillside, Thad unconscious at her feet and the tree with silvery leaves casting shade over the two of them. There was no sign of Hera or the pilgrim. Aura knew that if she followed the road up to the high pass, she’d never see the garden.

A soft rain began to fall, and it made the leaves of the tree tinkle softly, as if in sympathy. Aura fell to her knees beside Thad, who remained now in human form, and kissed his cheek. Their lives were bound together now, whatever came to be.

She knew she shouldn’t have been surprised that no spark emanated from the point of contact between them. The firestorm was satisfied, just as he’d desired. She looked at him, letting her fingertips trail across his cheek and lips. Even though the firestorm was extinguished, he was still the most alluring man she’d ever known.

She would have his son.

Aura bent and touched her lips to his, then she twined their fingers together.

She would sit vigil and wait for his kind, no matter how long it took.

Then she remembered his old-speak, how she had been able to hear it and how he had been able to hear the way she spoke to her sisters. Aura closed her eyes and tried to send a beacon to the other
Pyr
.

“The firestorm is satisfied, but the
Pyr
has fallen. Help us, please. Come to us, other
Pyr
, and help your own kind, please.”
She broadcast the words, over and over again, Thad’s hand held fast in her own, and hoped it was enough.

Chapter Five

“Good thing it’s digital, or you’d wear it out,” Eileen said as she walked past Erik with a pile of clean laundry.

The leader of the
Pyr
didn’t even look up from the news footage displayed on his laptop screen.

“It’s Jorge,” he said, starting the clip again. “I’m sure it’s Jorge. Spontaneously manifesting in Seattle.”

“I wondered when he’d turn up again,” Eileen mused. She came to stand behind Erik and leaned on his shoulder to watch.

“You don’t sound worried,” Erik said, trying to not sound irritated by that.

Eileen pressed a quick kiss to the side of his neck. “I have a personal dragon protecting me.”

“But still...” Erik began to argue, then Eileen pointed at the screen.

“What’s in his mouth?”

“It looks like a severed limb.”

“Nice. With fingers. An arm, then.”

On the video clip, Jorge rose on his hind legs, displaying the splendor of his golden yellow scales. Erik peered at the screen, noting that there was a wound on the
Slayer
’s shoulder.

“He fought somebody recently.”

“A
Pyr
, no doubt,” Eileen agreed. “Those scabs look fresh.”

“And we know he heals very quickly because of the Elixir.”

“I wonder where he came from.”

Jorge took flight and even though he’d watched the sequence a thousand times already, Erik leaned closer so that he wouldn’t miss a single detail. Jorge flew a circle over the crowd and looked to be chewing on the severed limb. He shook it over the assembled crowd, dispersing a spray of blood. One drop landed on the lens or phone of whoever had filmed this version and it dripped in a red smear.

“That is gross,” Eileen said with disgust and returned to her laundry. “You’d think he’d be able to resist the temptation of doing that.”

“And then he vanishes,” Erik said, sitting back and tapping his fingers on the table.

“Spontaneously manifesting elsewhere,” Eileen concluded. “I wonder where.”

“I wonder
why
,” Erik said. “Jorge is very deliberate.”

“As well as a nasty piece of business,” Eileen said, giving an elaborate shiver. “How’s our dragonsmoke boundary mark these days?”

“Thick and deep,” Erik said, to her evident relief. “Even if he manifests inside it, I’ll be ready for him.”

“Ever vigilant. That’s what I like about living with a dragon.”

Erik started the clip again, then caught his breath.

“What do you see?” Eileen asked, and he knew she’d noticed his reaction.

“It’s at the very beginning. There’s a glimmer of blue-green light, I’m sure of it.”

“Darkfire,” Eileen whispered. She came back to his side and watched, then nudged him away from the keyboard. She could type so much more quickly than him, and he watched the screen, wondering what she was looking for.

“There have to be more filmed versions. Look at all those cellphones in the crowd. Maybe one starts sooner than the news version.”