Serpent's Kiss: A Dragonfire Novel (21 page)

She clicked her tongue and shook her head, but her gaze wasn’t as condemning as it could have been. “Good thing you’re cute,” she said, then her voice turned stern. “Change toward completion,” she said and lifted the crossbow. “It might be right.”

Thorolf raised his hand. “That’s not a good way to end the firestorm,” he said. He dared to smile and saw her eyes narrow. “Just let Viv go and I’ll try to help in your quest. How’s that for change?”

“You are infuriating,” she murmured again, then exhaled with obvious exasperation. “Even for a dragon.”

Thorolf smiled, hoping to charm her. “I do my best.”

Chandra shook her head, a gesture of affection and resignation. “You would have a dimple,” she muttered then lowered the crossbow.

A dimple clearly was a good thing.

That concession was enough encouragement for Thorolf.

He leapt in pursuit of his mate, not wanting to lose the advantage of the moment. To his shock, he ran smack into a wall of glass that had somehow been erected between them. It cracked from his point of impact, shattering the image of Chandra. He wondered if it also broke his nose.

It might have been a mirror and it certainly was a barrier. As the pieces fell away, he thought he saw images of Viv in the shards. She looked really angry, but then there was only snow where Chandra had been.

No, where the image of Chandra had been.

Thorolf spun to look behind himself, but her sanctuary disappeared and he was surrounded by that swirling snow again. He was caught up in a wind that spun around him. It might have been a tornado or a maelstrom, spinning more and more quickly and lifting him off the ground. He had to close his eyes against the wind and the pellets of ice that struck his face.

She’d tricked him. He should have resented it, but he admired how artfully it had been done. She had incredible powers. She probably didn’t need his protection.

That was a deflating thought, especially as she was so fascinating.

If manipulative.

Thorolf hadn’t felt so turned inside out by a woman in a long, long time.

No, not ever.

No sooner had he had the realization then suddenly the wind stopped.

He almost didn’t want to look.

But he did.

* * *

“Meet me.”

The old-speak slid into Lorenzo’s thoughts, licking his mind in a way that he found both revolting and inappropriate.

He didn’t reply, but continued to review his plans for a new show in Las Vegas. He missed performing in a way he hadn’t expected, and he knew that his mate, Cassie, missed the States. Venice was elegant and beautiful, but three winters of dreary cold and endless acqua alta had been enough to diminish even his love of the city. They were never going to finish the renovations on the palazzo, not with the flooding each winter creating new damage, and he was starting to think the tourists outnumbered the pigeons.

The incessant dampness wasn’t much good for little lungs, either—now that Lorenzo was a father, he worried about Antonio’s health, too. Cassie’s current pregnancy had tipped the balance. With another son due in May, it was time to return.

Some good dry desert heat would be just the thing for all of them.

Of course, his final show had culminated with his apparent death, which made for a great disappearance but complicated a comeback. There was good promotion to be had in returning from the dead, but the niggling detail of the
Slayer
’s corpse that had been found in his car and mistakenly identified as Lorenzo was an issue. He had a feeling he’d be pushing his talent for beguiling to its ultimate limit to convince many people that they hadn’t seen what they thought they’d witnessed.

In a way, he was looking forward to the challenge.

Lorenzo was sitting at his desk before a blazing fire in the large room overlooking the Grand Canal on the third floor of their palace, reviewing a midnight inspiration that had promise, when the old-speak slithered into his thoughts.

He couldn’t smell the speaker, or sense his presence, which meant either that he was far away or very good.

Or
Slayer
.

Lorenzo prickled at that possibility. Of course, a firestorm had sparked concurrent with this lunar eclipse. That invariably brought the
Slayers
out of the woodwork, so to speak.

The blue-green light of darkfire glittered, then the chair opposite was filled with Marco, the Sleeper of the
Pyr
. He was watching Lorenzo closely, his thoughts no easier to read than Lorenzo’s probably were.

So, he’d heard the old-speak, too.

Lorenzo thought of Cassie, sleeping in the next room, exhausted after another night of Antonio’s teething. She was feeling good in her final trimester, but had difficulties finding a comfortable posture to sleep. In a way, Antonio’s teething was a mixed blessing, because he would only take comfort from Cassie, which left her so tired that her posture didn’t matter. He’d suggested that he could beguile their son, but Cassie had—predictably—forbidden it.

“Not her,”
came the old-speak, the words underscored with humor.
“I prefer to fight in my own class these days.”

Lorenzo was jolted that the other dragon had followed his thoughts. He was losing his touch. Or his legendary control. It was time to get back in the game.

Lorenzo met Marco’s gaze. The Sleeper mouthed the word
Jorge
, and Lorenzo nodded. A
Slayer
approaching him. Interesting.

He flicked his fingertips, trying to emulate the spark of the firestorm, and Marco smiled.
Thorolf
, he mouthed, which surprised Lorenzo. Hadn’t that
Pyr
been missing?

Marco nodded, evidently following the line of his thoughts.

Very interesting.

“Should I be flattered?”
Lorenzo replied in old-speak after letting Jorge wait for it, and Marco bit back a smile.

“Probably. I have a proposition for you.”

“The proverbial offer I can’t refuse?”
Though Lorenzo made a joke of it, he was intrigued.
Slayers
didn’t come to
Pyr
and they didn’t offer anything. Ever.

Was it a trick?

“I’m hoping so.”
Jorge named a coffee shop that was in the same block, revealing that he knew the location of Lorenzo’s lair. That wasn’t reassuring at all, but Marco settled into his chair and nodded once.

He’d guard Cassie and Antonio. As irritating as Lorenzo had found Marco during his firestorm with Cassie, the Sleeper had grown on him with longer acquaintance. He quite liked Marco and trusted him.

Cassie liked him, too, and wouldn’t be dismayed if she awakened to find him standing guard.

“Five minutes,”
Lorenzo replied, disliking that he was unable to resist temptation and knowing that Jorge had probably relied upon that.

Marco unfolded a piece of paper and laid it on Lorenzo’s desk, pushing it across the leather blotter with a fingertip. Lorenzo quickly realized it was a prophecy of the kind that characteristically came to the
Pyr
during a firestorm. It was printed out on a plain sheet of computer paper.

“A union of five will tip the scale

When the moon aligns in Dragon’s Tail;

This
Pyr
alliance can defeat the scheme

And cheat the
Slayer
of his dream.

Fulfilling a pledge long been made

Will put darkness in its grave.

Know
Pyr
and
Slayer
can share one curse:

A vulnerability wrought of their birth.

Keep the pledge and defeat the foe,

So the Dragon’s Tail brings triumph not woe.”

Marco took a pen and underlined
This
Pyr
alliance
.

He gave Lorenzo an enquiring glance.

Lorenzo thought for a moment, then beckoned for the pen. He wrote his own name, volunteering for the alliance since he’d been targeted by Chen during his own firestorm. He paused for only a moment before adding that of
Erik
, because he couldn’t imagine the leader of the
Pyr
not taking a role. He added
Thorolf
, who had been targeted by Chen before, then glanced up at Marco.

Marco added
Brandon
to the list. Lorenzo nodded, recalling that Brandon had also been targeted by Chen. Then Marco wrote his own name.

Five
Pyr
volunteers. According to the prophecy, if they banded together, they could defeat Chen.

The question was how.

Lorenzo nodded understanding, then rose to his feet. He had to wonder what Jorge wanted, and how it tied in. He exchanged a glance with Marco, flicking a look toward his sleeping family. Marco nodded and settled back in his chair, evidently intent upon remaining to defend Cassie and Antonio.

That was an offer Lorenzo couldn’t refuse.

* * *

Jorge was waiting in his human form, as Lorenzo might have anticipated. The tall blond
Slayer
was incapable of blending into any group of humans, with the exception of trained mercenaries. He looked almost ridiculous with a small cup of espresso before himself, but no one would have dared to laugh at him. He flicked a look at Lorenzo, who ignored him deliberately.

Jorge was anxious, although he disguised it well.

Lorenzo found himself even more intrigued.

Lorenzo chatted with the proprietor, whom he knew well, admired the pastries, ordered an espresso, and read the headlines on the newspaper while he waited. He gave every impression of having all the time in the world, knowing it would annoy Jorge.

He’d come, but Jorge wasn’t going to have it all his way.

He turned finally with his espresso in hand, the paper in the other, and cast a glance over the cafe in search of a table. He feigned surprise at the sight of Jorge, and headed toward him. “I didn’t know you were in town!” he declared, ensuring that all attention was drawn to them.

Jorge glowered at him.
“So much for subtlety,”
he complained in old-speak.

Lorenzo smiled as he took the seat opposite the
Slayer
.
“They were all watching you already. Instinctive reaction, maybe.”

Jorge exhaled and looked out the window.

“You’re supposed to be meeting an old acquaintance,”
Lorenzo reminded him.

Jorge’s eyes narrowed, just a fraction, then he turned a tight smile on Lorenzo. “I didn’t know you were here, either,” he said, forcing out the words.

“Gives us a chance to catch up,” Lorenzo said. “How’s that beautiful wife of yours?”

“As beautiful as ever,” Jorge replied, his eyes glittering. “Yours?”

Lorenzo met the
Slayer’s
gaze steadily.
“Touch her and die,”
he murmured in old-speak, then spoke aloud. “Wonderful. The light of my life.”

“I told you already. That’s not what this is about.”

“What then?”
Lorenzo opened his paper, as if their conversation had been exhausted already. They exchanged a few more comments aloud, clearly not very close friends or those very glad to see each other. The proprietor peered out the window, scanning the overcast skies for signs of a thunderstorm, as the two dragon shifters spoke in old-speak.

“You’re the one who finished Balthasar,”
Jorge said.

Lorenzo glanced up.
“And so?”

The
Slayer
leaned closer.
“By beguiling him.”

Lorenzo lifted a brow, inviting more.

“They say you’re the best at it.”

Lorenzo turned the page of his paper. There was no need to confirm the obvious.

“To beguile a
Slayer
is no small accomplishment, much less to send him willingly to his death.”

“I assume you have a point.”

“I fight in my own class, but I fight to win.”

Lorenzo glanced up.

“I want you to beguile Chen.”

Lorenzo shrugged.
“I’d have to find him first.”

“I can take you there.”

“So he can fry me on sight? I think not.”

“I can get you into his lair,”
Jorge insisted, showing an insistence that Lorenzo found fascinating. He knew that both
Slayers
had consumed the Dragon’s Blood Elixir, which meant that they healed quickly from their wounds and possessed a kind of immortality. He also knew that the source for the Elixir had been destroyed, that the substance was highly addictive, and that Jorge had eaten other fallen
Slayers
to get more of the Elixir in the only way possible.
“You won’t have long, but if you’re as good as they say, you won’t need it.”

So, Jorge wanted Chen out of the way, likely to assume his role among the
Slayers
. That likely meant Jorge couldn’t beat Chen in combat. Lorenzo didn’t know if the
Slayers
still had a hierarchy like the
Pyr
, but it wasn’t a battle that interested him much. Getting rid of Chen, especially if that only gave Jorge more power, wasn’t an improvement in any way. Jorge was merciless in a rare and evil way.