Soul of the Dragon Read online

  “I didn’t see the first blast. I was down the street with Tommy, hanging around after work. He has a scanner—he’s a volunteer firefighter now, did you know?” When Alexa shook her head, he continued. “Anyway, Bing must have called it in first, after he heard the explosion and saw the fire out back. Tommy and I heard the address on the scanner and ran down the street. Dad was helping Aunt Ethel out.”

  “Then he ran back in.” Alexa wished someone would tell her something new. She felt like a lousy investigator.

  “Yeah, he came out with the lockbox wrapped in a towel. Just as he got to the front yard, a fireball slammed down into the center of the roof. It must have gone straight through the house. The fire engulfed it in seconds and practically burned itself out before the trucks got here, it was so hot.”

  “But the houses next door, the tree…”

  “Were barely singed. I know. That’s what I meant on the phone, Lex. It’s weird.”

  More than he knew. But Alexa couldn’t enlighten him. She couldn’t afford to focus on the fire or the aftermath, either. She had to neutralize Tars and his access to her family.

  “It’s like when Mom died.”

  Peter’s murmur whipped her attention back to him. “What?”

  “Well, it’s like—”

  “I heard what you said. I want to know what you meant.”

  Peter’s brow went up at her curt tone. Alexa had to admire him. Six months ago he would have looked and acted like a whipped puppy.

  “Don’t you remember the fire?” he asked.

  Alexa tried, but all she remembered of her mother’s death was horror and fury. And she’d been much older than Peter. “Not really,” she admitted.

  “I was upstairs. I saw you in the back yard. All I remember was her running across the lawn toward you, then she was on the ground and you were screaming.”

  Alexa watched him, waiting for more. Something was tickling the edge of her memory, but her earlier image of Tarsuinn at the fence kept it at bay.

  “What else?” she urged, but he shook his head.

  “I just remember someone saying something about a ball of fire. I hid under my bed.” His voice tightened in anguish. “Our mother was dying, and all I could do was hide under the bed.”

  Alexa wrapped her arms around his waist. “No, Pete, no. You were six, and frightened. You couldn’t have helped.”

  “So my guilt is as dumb as yours, huh?” He sniffed and pulled back. “Anyway. Got any ideas?”

  “A few,” she said, but didn’t like the spark of interest in Peter’s eyes. That was new, too. He’d changed, probably for the better, but it wasn’t safe for him to start investigating. “But whatever I think, this isn’t my area. We’ll let the fire chief and his inspector figure it out.”

  “But…”

  Alexa pursed her lips and jerked her head back down the hall. “Come on. Let’s go get the game plan under way.” She strode back to her aunt’s room, Peter trailing, complaining that they hadn’t developed a game plan. When they got back to the room, however, she showed him that they had.

  “Dad, have you decided where you want to stay until the insurance is settled?”

  Paul straightened in his seat, his hands on his knees. “I called Little Suites out by the school. They have a two-bedroom suite with a kitchenette that we can rent by the week for a reduced rate.”

  “Is your car okay?”

  “It’s in the lot.”

  “Good. Why don’t you go over and finalize arrangements for the room. Peter can go with you, then you two can gather whatever you have at the apartment and buy some clothes and stuff.” She turned to her aunt. “Aunt Ethel, what size do you wear?”

  “A ten, of course.” Alexa just looked at her. “Okay, a twelve. And I need toiletries.”

  “Right. Victoria, can you sit with her and make a list?” She handed the young woman a credit card. “Dad and Pete can pick you up after they do their stuff, and you can go shopping for the old folks.”

  “Sure.” Victoria looked both uncertain and delighted at her role. She moved her chair closer to Ethel’s bedside and picked up a hospital notepad. “Let’s go from the inside out. Do you need vitamins or medications?”

  “What can I do to help?” a cultured voice asked quietly. For the first time since re-entering the room, Alexa looked at Tars. He had that superiorly amused look on his face.

  “You’re taking me grocery shopping, since I don’t have a car.”

  His smirk dropped and his eyes widened just the smallest bit. “I have an assistant that usually handles that for me.”

  “Is he here?”

  “No.”

  “Then we shop. Dad.”

  Paul paused at the door. “Yes, my dear drill sergeant?”

  “Call my cell when you know what room you’re in. We’re getting groceries.”

  Paul looked doubtfully at Tars but nodded and left with his son.

  Alexa led Tars away, hoping he wanted to be alone with her enough to follow without argument or show. He did. Neither spoke until they were outside. Tars pulled a small ring of keys from his pocket and aimed the remote. A double chirp called Alexa’s attention to a PT Cruiser in the center of the parking lot.

  “Interesting choice,” she commented as they began crossing the lot. “I thought you preferred limos.”

  “It wouldn’t do to be too pretentious around my sister and her fiancé,” he said.

  Alexa let him help her into the car. When he’d circled the rear and slid into the driver’s seat, she put her hand on his arm before he could start the ignition.

  “It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know you’re behind this. If you want it to get you even a hint of what you want, you’ll go along with me until I can deal with your intentions. Got it?”

  “I understand, Alexa. I am delighted to be of service.” He started the car and slid out into traffic.

  Chapter Eleven

  Ryc tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and tried not to grind his teeth too hard. Alexa’s rush to get rid of him had been of the don’t-let-him-find-out variety, not the can’t-stand-to-be-around-you kind. And her order to go check on Cyrgyn had been ridiculous. So here he sat, unable to enjoy the brand-new Mustang he’d rented, because he had to play detective-on-surveillance and find out what she was up to.

  He also had to stop thinking in hyphens.

  He leaned to the left and pulled a pack of gum out of his pocket, absently unwrapping the sharply flavored cinnamon stick and jamming it into his mouth. His attention focused on the front door, which was opening.

  Alexa’s father and brother walked out. Paul looked much older than the last time Ryc had seen him. He wondered if it was time or the events of the past two days that had etched the lines in his face. Peter looked older, too, but more mature. He walked straighter, without cringing every few feet like he expected his father to lash out verbally. They walked to an old Caddy and climbed in. Peter drove, probably because of the white mitten-like bandage on Paul’s hand.

  The front doors opened again, this time ejecting Alexa and another guy.

  Slick bastard, Ryc thought, eyeing first the confident yet slimy walk. Rich, too, judging by the clothes. His tie was perfectly knotted. Ryc looked at his face, wondering what he was doing with Alexa. When he recognized Tarsuinn, the gum fell out of his mouth.

  “What the—”

  Was he the reason Alexa had blown him off? That goddamned, selfish, greedy, murdering bastard? Why would she want to be around the man, never mind alone with him?

  He started the Mustang and gritted his teeth again, exerting control against the urge to rev the engine to match his anger. The PT Cruiser pulled slowly out of its parking slot and around toward the exit before Ryc began to follow. Alexa had acted in charge—as usual—but he knew Tarsuinn’s power, both of charm and of magic, and he wasn’t going to let them out of his sight.

  They drove at a reasonable pace through the light mid-afternoon traffic. Ryc saw Alexa gest
ure a second before Tarsuinn signaled and changed to the right lane. He turned into a strip mall anchored by a supersize grocery store.

  They were going shopping?

  Ryc parked two rows away from the Cruiser and watched them climb out and walk to the main entrance of the store. They were going shopping.

  Shaking his head, Ryc pulled the keys from the ignition and followed them at a distance. The last thing they all needed was for Tarsuinn to spot him, but he had to know what was going on.

  * * *

  Alexa grabbed a cart and shoved it at Tars, who took it without so much as a flick of an eyelash. He strode with her through the produce, saying little as she made her selections.

  “The refrigerator will likely be rather small,” he mentioned when she dropped a bag of salad on top of the bananas and tomatoes.

  Alexa shrugged. “So they can’t fit a case of soda. This is better for both of them.” She led him to the deli and ordered a pound of turkey ham and half a pound of low-salt Swiss. She was about to take the cheese from the clerk when her entire back felt pricked by tiny fibers.

  She took the cheese and set it in the cart, looking around but only catching a glimpse of black disappearing into a far aisle. She knew when she was being watched, but had no idea who could be watching. Her enemy was right next to her.

  They were alone in the bread aisle when Tars spoke. “Have you considered the terms that will end this?” he asked.

  Alexa didn’t look up from the peanut butter label she was reading. “Have you talked to Mark since you arrived at the hospital?” Too much sugar. She put the jar back on the shelf and selected another. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Tars pull a small phone from his inner jacket pocket.

  “I forgot to turn this back on when we left the hospital.” He pressed a button. It beeped, then beeped again. “Two messages.”

  “I’ll save you some time.” She put the peanut butter in the cart and tossed her hair back. “Turn Cyrgyn to his human form, permanently, in front of me, and you can have me.”

  “I must turn him first.”

  “Of course. Otherwise I can’t trust you to do it.”

  Tars shook his head.

  “You turn me down awfully fast. You must not want me that bad after all these years.”

  “It isn’t that, Alexa.” He looked right into her eyes, and she saw true longing there, and a shadow she knew was his soul, before he’d acted so irrevocably. The Good Mage that lurked behind the evil he’d turned to.

  He sighed and looked down at his fists wrapped around the handle of the cart. “I fear he will not allow it. The dragon would never sacrifice you for himself.”

  “He wouldn’t be sacrificing me. It’s my choice.”

  “It matters not.” His cultured voice now revealed some of the brogue of his past. “I know the man beneath the beast. He would rather die than see you with me.”

  “Why, Tars? Besides the fact that you doomed him to an eternity of loneliness,” she added dryly.

  “We were friends,” he said, shifting restlessly. “I did not lie about that. But we both fell in love with the same woman. With you.”

  He looked down at her, and again Alexa saw the longing, the desire that had brought on this entire situation. She felt a tug in her heart, that ancient need in some women to reform a man they thought reformable. She knew better, though, damn it. The tug ceased. “And?”

  “And he wanted us to stop fighting. To not allow a woman to tear us apart. He proposed to let you choose, that we would agree to accept that choice and move on. Had you chosen me, he would have honored our agreement and we would have remained friends.”

  “But I chose him.”

  “And I could not be honorable.”

  Alexa fought her exasperation. “You recognize this, yet hundreds of years later you fight the same stupid battle. How can any of us win, Tars? How can this possibly end well?”

  Regret tinged his expression. “I fear it cannot. But you make me want to try.”

  Alexa thought of Cyrgyn, of her nightly loneliness and the jumble of emotions she’d felt since this began. She wanted so much to be with him, to start a life that had been on hold for thirty-three—no, nearly one thousand thirty-three years.

  “You make me want to try, too,” she said.

  * * *

  Ryc gasped and grabbed at his chest, where Alexa’s words had pierced him as easily as a dagger. He hadn’t heard their entire conversation, only the last exchange, when Tars complicated the sides by showing his humanness. And Alexa was softening toward the enemy.

  Ryc backed down the aisle and wound his way to the far exit of the store to make certain they didn’t see him. He didn’t know how he was going to face Alexa. Climbing into his car, he thanked the stars Cyrgyn wouldn’t know what Ryc had just heard.

  Chapter Twelve

  Alexa paid for the groceries and let Tars load them into the car. She said nothing beyond directions to get to the hotel. Halfway there her father called.

  “You still with that guy?”

  “Yes, Dad. What room are you in?”

  “One twelve. It’s a smoking room, but I didn’t want Ethel climbing the stairs. I don’t trust him, Alexa,” he warned, and she chuckled.

  “Don’t worry, Dad, neither do I.”

  “Oh.” She could almost hear his frown. “But I thought you liked Victoria.”

  “I do. One has nothing to do with the other.”

  “I get it. But I don’t trust her either.”

  “We’ll talk about it later, Dad.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Just get the groceries and get rid of him. I don’t wanna look at his face. Bad enough I got Little Miss Fake Wimp around.”

  Boy, he was irritable today. Maybe his burn was bothering him. He sounded like a lion with a sore paw.

  She smiled at the analogy. “I understand, Dad. See you in five.”

  “So what do we do?” Tars asked when she hung up.

  “Bring the groceries over.”

  “No, I mean about us.”

  Alexa pocketed her phone and turned to face him fully. “To be honest, Tars, you really killed any possibility of ‘us’ when you did this to my family.”

  His face hardened. “So you remain on his side. Despite what you said in that store.”

  She shook her head at him. “You are a real piece of work. Tars, maybe six hundred years ago you were a nice guy, a guy worth loving. If you hadn’t lashed out like so many other stupid teenage boys…” She thought about the curse. “Okay, not like them. My point is you had a chance to find your own love, and you blew it by cursing all of us. That twisted something in you. I don’t think it’s redeemable.”

  His features like granite but his hands steady on the wheel, he said in a low voice, “But you won’t try.”

  “I can’t. No, you’re right,” she corrected, “I won’t. I won’t risk the people I love that way.”

  He looked at her and the feverish light she’d seen on the rooftop was back in his pale eyes. “You may anyway, Alexa.”

  Anger flooded her. “No, I won’t.” Tars parked the car in front of the hotel and she shoved the door open and grabbed her bags. “You stay away from my family, Tarsuinn. This is between us, and anything you do to them will only make it worse for you.”

  “How?” he taunted, standing in his open door with one foot on the running board. “With your little magic tricks?”

  Furious because she was as impotent as he implied, she felt for the magical energy. Her rage grew when she didn’t detect any close enough or dense enough to use. A blue coil rested on the ground several feet away and she snatched it up, whipping it out at him. It caught him across the face and he gasped, not just in surprise but in pain.

  His hand flew to his cheek, which glistened. Drops of water glittered in his blond hair. He stared at her, then at his steaming hand. He quickly wiped it on his jacket and dropped into the car. Seconds later he roared away.

  Alexa stared after him, not sure how to inter
pret the scene. She would swear he’d seemed afraid. But what good did it do to toss a puddle at him?

  She looked at the ground where the coil had been, but the spot was dry. She went closer, bent and touched the blacktop. Not even a damp patch. There hadn’t been a puddle there. But he’d been wet, and it had hurt him.

  It came to her in a flash. The energy. Tars used thermal energy—the kind that had burned her brain—as his weapon of choice. The blue coil must have been water energy. Alexa had told Cyrgyn just this morning that there had to be something to use against Tars that he couldn’t counter.

  She’d found it.

  * * *

  Tars sped away from the hotel, swiping feverishly at his face with a handkerchief. His skin felt like it was melting. Nothing like this had ever happened before, and he didn’t know how to stop it.

  When he’d left the city and reached a relatively empty road he pulled over. He looked in the rearview mirror. His cheek was red and when he looked closer, he could see tiny pock marks where droplets had hit.

  “Damn her.” He swiped at his cheek again, then threw the cloth onto the seat next to him and grabbed his phone.

  “Mark.” Before the man could respond, he barked orders. “Get the jet ready. I want to take off as soon as I arrive at the runway. And find me a salve. Something for burns.”

  “Anything else?”

  “No.” He thought of Alexa’s challenge and struggled to control the anger and despair and loss he’d been fighting for hundreds of years. He didn’t know what his next step was going to be. He needed time, and planning.

  He needed to figure out a way to combat her new weapon.

  * * *

  Alexa planned to get her family and their things settled for the night, then head for the woods to check on Cyrgyn. But they wouldn’t let her get away so easily.

  “Where are you going?” Peter asked her when she kissed him goodbye. “We’re gonna go get some dinner.”

  “Oh, I’m not hungry.” She kept her hand on the doorknob, her urgency to get to Cyrgyn growing.

  “Well, you can’t get into the apartment without us,” he said. When she didn’t respond, he frowned. “You are staying in the apartment, aren’t you?”