Dragon Moon (17 page)

It occurs to me I haven't called the office in weeks. I go to the phone, dial Miami. The phone rings three times before it's picked up. “LaMar Associates,” a brisk voice answers, feminine but older, deeper than Rita's.

“Where's Rita?” I say.

“She was promoted, sir. May I help you?”

I shake my head. “Sorry, I forgot. This is Mr. DelaSangre.”

“Oh, sir,” she says. “I'm pleased to meet you, sir. I'm Sarah, the new receptionist.”

“Welcome aboard, Sarah. Can I have Arturo please?”

“Sorry, sir, he's on vacation. He won't be back for another two weeks.” Buzzes from the switchboard intrude on our conversation. “Oh, sir, sorry, sir, may I put you on hold for a moment?”

“Sure,” I say, remembering Arturo mentioning his vacation, wondering what else has slipped my mind. I ponder whether I'm in the mood to talk to Tindall, decide to ask for Rita instead.

Sarah returns to the line. “Mr. DelaSangre, sorry for the delay. What can I do for you?”

“Let me have Rita.”

“Rita, sir? Not Mr. Tindall?”

Frowning at her question, I say, “Who hired you?”

“Mr. Tindall did, sir. Mr. Gomez was too busy getting ready for his trip.”

“Well, contrary to whatever Ian may have told you, I do know what I want when I ask for it. Please connect me to Rita now.”

Sarah's voice is barely audible when she says, “Yes, sir. Right now, sir.”

“Peter,” Rita says as soon as she picks up her phone, her voice brisk and cheerful. “How goes it?”

“It goes,” I say in a monotone.

She pauses before she answers and I regret the sadness I let slip into my answer. “Oh, trouble in loveland?”

“When isn't there?”

Rita laughs and I smile at the sound of it. “Tell me what's going on,” I say.

She draws in a breath. “Let's see. You know Arturo put me in Mr. Tindall's department. I think you can guess how happy Mr. Tindall is to have me here. You should see the cubbyhole he gave me for an office.” She laughs again. “I think it was a utility closet before.

“And I'm graduating Nova Law in another week. I should pass the bar by November.”

“There will be another raise for you when you do,” I say.

“Thank you, Peter. Anyway, Mr. Gomez is on vacation now. Did you know he's hiking in some Far East country, Bhutan, I think?”

“He mentioned something about it.”

“Well, everything's pretty much going on okay here except” — her voice drops to a whisper — “I've seen and overheard some things. I think Mr. Tindall's found a way to get that Wayward Key deal finished.”

“Damn it!” I say. “Arturo told me he had it under control. Are you sure?”

“As sure as I can be. I don't have the resources Mr. Gomez and Mr. Tindall do.”

“There's no way I'm going to let it happen. I want you to get Arturo on the phone. I don't give a damn if he's on vacation or not. I want him to call me now.”

“I can't, Peter. He's in the middle of nowhere. I can't reach him until he finishes his hike.”

Sighing, I say, “Then transfer me to Tindall. I'm going to resolve this thing right now.”

Rita's voice turns cold. “What about me, Peter? Where's that going to leave me?”

I almost throw the phone at the wall. Why won't any of these humans listen to me today? “You'll be fine,” I say, spitting out each word. “It's Tindall that has to worry. Transfer me to him now!”

“So, Peter, are you ever planning to come home?” Tindall says when he answers my call.

“Soon,” I say. “But we're going to resolve this now.”

“Whoa, Peter, relax. Who stuck a rod up your ass?”

“You did with that goddamned island deal.”

“What island deal?” Tindall says.

“Come on, Ian, don't bullshit me. You know I've been blocking you on this.”

“Which is why I gave it up after your asshole lackey Muntz sold us out. I'm not stupid, Peter. I'm not going to jeopardize my position with you for a lousy real estate deal. Especially” — he chuckles — “with that she-bitch you put in my department watching everything I do. I know when I'm beat, Peter. You won.”

“I hear otherwise,” I say.

“She's got you and Arturo really snookered, doesn't she? Check out what I'm telling you, Peter. The deal's done for. My partners are trying to sell the island to the parks department — for a loss. All of us are sorry we ever got involved in this.

“And, Peter, listen to this,” Tindall continues. “I don't think that island deal was ever any violation of our relationship. Sure, I knew you'd get snippy if it went through, but if it did, the value of your island would have gone through the roof. You could have sold it and bought any other island you wanted. I would have made you tons of money on this deal, Peter. Isn't that what I'm supposed to do?”

“You're supposed to protect my privacy too.”

“Didn't you see all of the plans? Nothing on Wayward Key would have faced your island except for trees, hedges, bushes and a privacy wall. For Christ's sake, Peter, stop thinking I'm stupid!”

I sigh, wish I could trust a word this man says. But he's a Tindall and I know all too well what they're capable of. “Ian, if the deal's dead like you say, then we'll just have a long talk when I get back.”

“I look forward to it, Peter.”

“But if you've lied to me ...”

“I haven't.”

“Okay,” I say. “You know I'm going to have this all checked out. We'll talk again when I know what's really going on. ...”

“Sure.”

“And nothing better happen to Rita in the meantime.”

“That bitch? I wouldn't dare.” Tindall laughs.

I reach Claudia on her cellphone, tell her of Rita's conversation with me and Tindall. “You know how to get hold of your father's people. I want this all checked out,” I say.

“It will take a little time,” she says. “I have to go to shore. The man I need to talk to won't discuss anything over the phone.”

“Whatever it takes. Just get me the truth.”

“Okay.”

“And Claudia?”

“Yes?”

“If Tindall's lying to me, I'm going to need you to handle it. Is that a problem for you?”

“Me?” She laughs. “After all that Pops has told me about him, it would be a pure pleasure.”

15

Despite Henri's pleas to go outside and practice flying, I spend the evening inside. I don't tell the boy that I don't dare venture into the evening sky. Chloe's scent can only grow stronger as her oestrus continues. I fear the effect it will have on me. I don't want to risk being drawn to her before the deadline she's given me.

To my surprise, sleep takes me as soon as I lie down and, even though dreams and nightmares roil my night, I wake rested, almost cheerful in the morning. Still, I refuse to open the windows, refuse to go outside all day.

Henri stays by my side until I reassure him my odd behavior has nothing to do with anything he's done. After that, he spends the rest of the day tagging along with Granny, helping with chores he always avoided at home.

After dark, I accompany him to his room, sit on his bed. “I saw Chloe the other night,” I say.

He stares into my face. “Are you married now?” he says.

I smile, say, “No. If we do decide to get married, you'll be there. But I am going to see her again tonight after you go to sleep. By tomorrow, we'll know whether she's going to come live with us or not.”

“You like her, don't you, Papa?”

I nod.

“Then I hope she marries you.”

Chloe's scent surrounds me as soon as I walk out the veranda door. The aroma of cinnamon and musk fills my lungs, the scent's chemicals flood my veins. My body begins to change before I even think to, my shoulders widening, bursting through my shirt, my pants splitting, falling off me as my haunches thicken and my tail grows.

I take deep breaths, revel as my skin thickens to scales, as my wings break clear. Spreading them, flexing my claws, working my jaw so my newly lengthened fangs settle into place, I can't imagine why I ever in my life wanted to be such a puny thing as a human. Looking up toward the still full moon, I admire the way the silver disk dominates the sky, bathes the earth with its dull shine, wish it were ringed with a halo again this night.

Springing into the air, I circle once over Bartlet House, smelling the air, following Chloe's scent where it's the strongest. Every nerve I have is energized, every muscle taut. I fly over the dark landscape, the scattered lights, climb high once I pass into Cockpit Country, then dive and skim the treetops and zoom high again, roaring into the moonlit night.

I know that Chloe may refuse me but I can't imagine what would follow. Her scent has me, pulls me toward her, dulls any thoughts of rejection that arise. Flight has never felt so good. Every molecule of air that passes over my skin seems to rub me ever so lightly, tease me further into frenzy. The faster I go, the harder the air presses against me and I strain to speed to the valley, to the cave Chloe has chosen.

Scanning the sky for any sign of her, I growl at its emptiness. I'd met Elizabeth in the air the first time and had hoped I'd meet Chloe that way too. But no matter what altitude I climb to, which valley I fly over, I see no sign of her.

Landing at the cave's mouth, I enter it to find the bed completed, the air flooded with Chloe's scent — with the female nowhere in sight. Weary from my flight, panting from exhaustion and lust, I walk back to the cave's opening, examine the sky as I rest.

Could she be so cruel as to leave me panting in the dark waiting for her answer? Growling, I shake my head, twitch my tail. Chloe couldn't do that to me. Still, as time passes, my fears grow.

She surprises me by diving from above me, dropping toward the valley floor — asilver streak of movement that rockets across the valley and races back toward the cave.
“Back off, leave me room,”
she mindspeaks moments before she arrives.

Scrambling away from the cave's mouth, I leave enough space for her to shoot past me. She lands only feet from the bed, facing the cave's rear.

Her scent threatens to drown me but I resist its call.
“I was worried you might not come,”
I say.

“Good,”
she says, her back still to me.
“I wasn't sure I would. I'm still angry with you.”

Her trembling body, her heaving sides, her swollen sex belie her words. But as much as my need for her vibrates within me, I refuse to step forward and risk her rejection again.
“Then you want me to leave,”
I say.

She turns toward me, lashes her tail from one side to the other as she mindspeaks.
“I don't need to do anything, Peter. You need to somehow make this good for me.”

I look into her emerald-green eyes, admire the sharpness of her snout, her features a little finer than her sister's. A shudder of desire goes through me and I sigh.
“What more can I say?”

Chloe glares at me.
“I think I could be strong enough to resist you, Peter. I really do.”
She breathes deeply.
“You have to give me a reason not to.”

My body aches from need. I'm tired of all this talking. If I'm to be sent away I want it to be soon.
“You want a reason?”
I growl, slam my tail down on the floor of the cave, stand on my hind legs so I tower over her.
“Would you rather I just took you like I was one of the others of the Blood? Do you think you could really stop me? All that holds me back is that I want something more. And that's what I have to offer you.”

“Yes, I do. That's why I came here. That's why I waited for you.”
I pause, her scent almost suffocating me, my body so much in need that it's almost in pain.
“Now decide what you want, Chloe. If you want to just be mated like your parents were, tell me and I'll go. If I stay much longer, I can't guarantee what I'll do.”

Chloe shakes her head.
“How can you promise that what we have will be any better than my parents' marriage?”

She studies me, says nothing for a few minutes. Finally, Chloe takes a breath, tilts her head a little.
“No, I don't want you to go. But” —
she backs up a few steps
— “you come to me.”