Fate of Dragons Page 6

  No, everyone’s pretty much focused on apprehending me, and besides—I pity the moron who starts a war with the Fairfax dragons.

  Talk about a painful death.

  No, something about this trap strikes me as intricate, and that means it will spring any moment. It was carefully planned and meticulously executed by someone who’s used to staying one step ahead, and those are my least favorite enemies.

  They’re so damn patient.

  My goal is a field up ahead, and as far as our scans can tell, the meadow itself is also clear—no life, no heat signatures, no submerged weapons, no mines.

  There was an odd reading on one of Jace’s scans—a large, rectangular mass in the middle of the meadow—but no one is clear yet what it is. It glitches and fades, showing sometimes and disappearing the next.

  It could just be an error, but I know better.

  There’s something waiting for me in that field, even if it doesn’t have a heat signature. And I’m chomping at the bit to figure out what it is.

  I sidestep a dry twig, careful to remain quiet. With a pause, I glance down at the stick, debating whether or not I should switch things up a bit.

  After all, they expect me to be silent. Impossibly fast.

  Deadly.

  With a little smirk, I step on the twig. As the crack shatters the silent forest, I wait, gun drawn, for my prey to come to me.

  A bird chirps in the tree overhead. The wind rustles the trees, kicking up a few leaves along the forest floor but, otherwise, nothing happens.

  Disappointed, I frown. I was kind of hoping that would work.

  As I continue through the forest, my shoulders ache more and more with every step. At least I’m not totally alone—thanks to the four men surrounding this forest, I know I’ll make it out of here alive today. Even with their help, though, I can’t relax.

  The plan is simple. I walk in and draw the enemy’s attention while Jace and the others swoop in from behind. Easy. In and out, and once we have our subjects in custody, we’ll finally get some answers.

  I almost can’t believe Jace agreed to this plan. He fought it hard, but in the end, we made it clear we would do it without him if he didn’t play along.

  It would’ve been easier if we could have brought the dojo’s army, but all of this is technically illegal. Only a few loyal shifters in the dojo’s command center even know what Jace is up to, and even they don’t have the whole story.

  We don’t agree on much, but Jace and I both figure it’s better this way.

  Gun raised, eyes peeled for any movement at all, the hair on my neck stands on end as I stalk through the silent forest.

  After all, I’m used to setting the trap, not being the bait.

  “Clear in the West,” Drew says through the com. “Levi gave the signal.”

  “Good,” I say quietly, trying not to move my lips too much in case someone’s watching.

  “Just got word from the command center,” Jace says. “A heat signature is being picked up at the coordinates, and that rectangular mass is back on the screen. I think it was cloaked before, but they’re not bothering with that anymore.”

  I pick up the pace, trying to close the distance between me and whatever fool is trying to trap me. “The heat signature—is it a shifter?”

  “No, something small and mechanical by the looks of it.”

  “A weapon?”

  “No. Hard to tell on the infrared, but it might be a laptop or something similar.”

  Damn it.

  I’m so done with the games.

  I bolt through the forest, careful to remain silent and unseen. I want this to end, already.

  I just want some freaking answers.

  As I near the edge of a small clearing, I pause behind a tree trunk to survey the field. It’s still as a summer’s day, with the warm sun shining down on the soft meadow grasses as they shiver in the soft breeze.

  There, in the middle of the field, is a plain brown table. It looks for all the world like it belongs in someone’s dining room, and to have it out in the open like this is surreal.

  Unnerving.

  But I guess that’s the point—to throw me off guard.

  The polished gloss on the wood is like warm honey in the sunlight. Two items sit on the table—a cell phone, and an open laptop.

  My finger hovers over the trigger, just waiting to see someone I can shoot. As I scan the trees, however, I’m left sorely disappointed.

  I’m alone. It doesn’t even look like my men have reached the field yet, but they’re not far behind.

  With a frown, I slip farther back into the shadows of the forest. “So, what’s their plan? Shoot me when I walk out there?”

  “Not possible,” Jace says through the com link in my ear. “We’ve surveyed every vantage point and have scanners running the surrounding area. No one’s here.”

  “Just double checked on any possible explosives below us,” Drew adds. “My tech is giving the all-clear. What do you see, Rory?”

  “A laptop,” I say dryly, entirely unimpressed. “And a phone.”

  “Mind games,” Jace chimes in. “They want to throw you off and trip you up.”

  “Thanks, Captain Obvious,” Tucker interjects.

  Drew and I chuckle.

  The moment of levity is brief, though, and before I know it, I’m frowning again as I survey the meadow.

  With a deep and frustrated sigh, I step into the clearing. Gun trained on the laptop, I slowly walk toward the out-of-place table, my eyes constantly scanning my surroundings as I look for any reason to fire off a few rounds.

  As I near, the laptop screen turns on automatically. I lift my gun, itching to shoot off a round, but I wait.

  There’s a few moments of static that gives way to what looks like a live feed of someone lying in a hospital bed.

  Irena.

  I gasp. Eyes wide, I watch as a strange woman in white scrubs bends over my sister’s body, fiddling with the IV. They’re in some kind of industrial facility, and the bed Irena lays on reminds me of the one I found Zurie strapped to back in Mason’s stronghold. Metal shackles lock her wrists and ankles to the bed, and she’s wearing a simple white medical gown.

  I grit my teeth, disgusted yet again that they would change her. That these assholes have the nerve to touch her at all.

  My eyes flit over the screen, memorizing every detail in case the laptop shuts off on me. I look for anything useful, anything at all I could use to save her.

  She’s pale, far more so than I’ve ever seen her. She looks like she’s fading, and fast. Her skin is white as a sheet, and her veins almost glow blue in comparison. Her chest rises and falls, but only barely. She stutters now and then, as though every breath causes pain.

  The phone rings, shattering my focus, and I nearly blow the thing to hell in my surprise. I manage to restrain my trigger finger barely a second before I shoot the stupid phone into oblivion.

  I check the screen. Unlisted number.

  It continues to ring, and I shake my head in frustration. These assholes sure love their theatrics.

  I grab it with my left hand, answering the call as I train my gun on the laptop out of instinct. “What the hell did you do to her?”

  “Well, at least you don’t waste words,” a man says on the other end of the phone. “I rather like that.”

  It’s hard to tell by just a voice, but I imagine he’s maybe a decade older than me at most. His tone is a bit lighter than I expected, nothing at all like the dark growl Mason’s voice had. He sounds like an aristocrat, someone used to being obeyed. There’s a bit of cockiness to his tone, almost like he’s smirking while he speaks, and I wish he were here so I could snap his stupid neck.

  “Answer me,” I demand.

  He doesn’t.

  Because of course he freaking doesn’t.

  “I enjoyed the little stunt you pulled on Mason,” the stranger says. “With the walkie talkies? Clever. I like clever opponents. You’re so much more fun
than the stupid ones.”

  I’m tempted to tear him a new asshole for changing the subject, but something he says makes me snap my mouth shut.

  Opponents.

  To him, this is just a game.

  He doesn’t care about Irena. About my men. About me.

  From his perspective, all he’s done is make the first move. I’m merely an adversary. Someone against whom he can play. A trophy to be won or lost, a way to measure his own skill against the rest of the world.

  And the way he talks—this is clearly someone used to running missions safely from behind closed doors, where the lives of the men in the field are nothing more than pieces on a board, to be sacrificed at will.

  This man is cold. Heartless. Ruthless.

  Smart.

  He’s not going to let arrogance get in his way or cloud his judgment like Mason did. This guy is too good for that.

  I have to change my strategy if I want to play against him.

  As I continue to scan the forest, always alert for possible threats, I take a moment to come up with a new approach.

  Careful to swallow as much of my rage as I can, I try to even out my tone. To calm down. “I assume you went through all of this trouble so we could make a deal. So? What’s your offer?”

  “Ah, so you’ve already caught on,” he says, chuckling. “I knew you were a smart one. A fun one. I’m going to enjoy this.”

  I grimace to suppress a deep groan of frustration. This guy might not be in any rush, but I sure as hell am.

  “Do you know who I am?” he asks.

  I rub my eyes, trying to swallow my impatience. “Can’t say that I do. Want to share with the class?”

  “Maybe later.” He sighs happily, and I hear the groan of leather, as if he’s reclining in a large and very expensive chair. “For now, let’s talk about Irena. Let’s talk about our deal.”

  Finally.

  “Fine,” I say, trying to sound bored. “What’s your offer?”

  “Irena’s doing poorly, as you can tell from the live feed.”

  I glance toward the laptop, debating whether or not he’s telling me the truth. I want to believe he is, because that would mean I’m watching in real time as her heart rate monitor beeps, proving to me that she really is alive.

  But he could easily be lying.

  “The illness is rapidly taking over,” the stranger continues. “She won’t last much longer, and thus, our little game needs to have a swift ending to it. I’m afraid we won’t get to play for very long.”

  “Oh, what a pity,” I say wryly, not bothering to mask my sarcasm.

  Freaking psycho.

  “I’m going to be very generous,” he says calmly. “Most people would give you twenty-four hours to save your sister. I, however, want to enjoy our game a bit longer than that.”

  I don’t say anything. I’ll take all the time I’m given, no matter how the crazy man phrases it.

  “In seven days, I will give her an injection,” he continues. “Whether it’s the antidote or a highly concentrated poison depends entirely on your next move, Rory dear.”

  I grit my teeth at the pet name, but for now, I choose to ignore it. “Let me guess. You want me to turn myself in.”

  “Such a boring option, I know.” He sighs. “But that’s the way it has to be. Even I have superiors, and that’s what they want.”

  “And what do you want?” I ask, adding a bit of a sultry tease into my voice. Seeing how I can tempt him, in what ways I can shatter his loyalty.

  I would never sleep with this psycho—but a man like this has other desires, and maybe we can make a real bargain.

  He clearly wants something different than his Boss. Maybe he wants a good fight, or an object I can fetch for him—something that will get me my sister sooner, in some other way than to turn myself in to the dragons I hate most.

  “Oh, aren’t you fun?” His voice changes, and I can virtually hear the wide grin on his face. “Look at you, already trying to break the rules.”

  “Bend them, really.” I shrug, trying to sound nonchalant even though I want to gut him from ass to ear. “After all, it’s more exciting that way.”

  “True, true,” he says, as if we’re old friends. “However, I’m afraid dear old Kinsley wants you, and nothing else will suffice.”

  He doesn’t realize it, but he just gave me a clue.

  This man called the Vaer Boss by her first name, and with no reference to her title—which means he ranks even higher than I imagined. If he’s comfortable talking about one of the cruelest dragons to ever live in such a relaxed manner, I can only imagine what horrifying things he finds completely mundane.

  I smirk in victory, but as I do another quick scan of the empty forest, my smile falters. I truly had expected a battalion to descend, for fighters to come at me from all sides, but so far, the silence is eerie.

  “So, no.” he drones on. “I need you to come to me, and if you do, I will set Irena free.”

  “We both know you won’t do that.”

  Irena is a Spectre and Zurie’s second in command. There’s no way they would ever let her go—and that’s why she very well might already be dead.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, refusing to even consider the thought.

  The stranger laughs. “I like you.”

  “Wish I could say the feeling was mutual.”

  “So, what will it be, Rory dear? Shall I ask the cooks to make you something special for dinner tonight?”

  “You still haven’t answered me,” I snap, allowing some of my impatience to filter through. “How do I even know if she’s still alive? You could be showing me a recording.”

  “True,” he admits. “I guess you can’t be sure. You’ll have to come see for yourself.”

  “Look, there are other—”

  “See you soon, Rory,” he interrupts. “And if you bring your men, I will kill them. There will not be mercy. There will not be hesitation. I only have need for you.”

  With that, the line goes dead. I look down at it in disgust, only to see a text flash across the screen with the coordinates for where he wants me to go. I memorize it out of habit, even as my mind wanders.

  Abruptly, the laptop shuts off. Sparks dance over the surface, frying it. Smoke spirals from the keyboard, and I cuss under my breath, trying to figure out how to stop this.

  “No, no, no, no,” I mutter, trying to pry open the back panel, doing anything I can to save the computer that may have valuable intel on it.

  When the laptop starts to beep like I bomb, I realize I can’t.

  I bolt, barely clearing the field before the tiny explosive embedded deep within the laptop goes off. A blast of heat rolls over my back, knocking me off balance. I roll through the field, looking over my shoulder as what was once the screen soars through the air and into the forest.

  “Damn it!” I shout, balling my hand into a fist.

  It’s not until I hear the crunch of the phone in my palm that I realize I just smashed that, too. I open my hand to reveal a thin piece of metal that was once the phone, the shattered glass of the screen falling to the ground like raindrops.

  The sheer destruction I just caused throws me off, and for a moment, I can only stare.

  I’m strong, but I’m not supposed to be that strong.

  …am I?

  My magic is building. Fusing with me. Raising the limit of what I can do—and with it, what’s at stake.

  The Vaer want me for reasons no one seems to fully understand, and that means they know something about me that I don’t.

  The thought is unsettling, to say the least.

  Jace, Drew, and Tucker dart out from separate sections of the forest, converging on the laptop with their guns drawn.

  A moment later, each man bolts toward me, but I wave them away as I stand. “I’m fine, guys. Really.”

  Levi lands in the field a second later, roaring, his wings spread as he prepares for battle.

  “It’s fine, Levi,” I say, trying to
soothe him. “It was just a self-destruct on the laptop.” I sigh. “Probably so that I couldn’t hack it.”

  “What happened to the phone?” Tucker asks, pointing to the device in my hand.

  “I, uh, got a little angry,” I admit. I sigh and lift my palm, studying the debris that was once a working phone and my last connection to the man who has my sister.

  But if I’m being realistic, it wouldn’t have done me any good anyway. With a man this smart, I probably wouldn’t have even been able to trace this back to him. He probably covered his tracks remarkably well, and that was likely the only reason he didn’t blow up the phone, too.

  Tucker and Drew watch me with concern, but Jace looks at me with surprise. His eyes go wide, and even though it’s brief, his expression is one of utter shock.

  Oh, great. Whatever I just did—whatever is happening with my magic—even put Jace on edge.

  Because there’s not enough going on right now already.

  “We need to get out of here,” Jace says, looking around. “It’s not safe.”

  On that, at least we can agree.

  Levi takes to the sky while the four of us jog through the woods, back to the waiting chopper that brought us here. Jace takes up the lead, while Drew monitors behind us to ensure no one follows. Tucker and I run in the middle, focused and alert.

  They’re all mercifully silent as we run, everyone eager to just get the hell out of Dodge, but Tucker begins to gravitate a bit closer once we’ve put a fair amount of distance between us and the rogue dining table in the meadow.

  He keeps looking at me like he wants to talk about what happened, and I carefully monitor the area around us for cameras or other possible equipment.

  It’s clear.

  I hop over a fallen tree, briefly glancing at him as we run. “What’s on your mind, Tucker?”

  “What happened back there, boss?” Tucker easily scales a tree trunk, his boots kicking up a few dead leaves as he lands.

  I frown. “I spoke with a Vaer. He didn’t give me his name, but he did give me seven days to turn myself in. If I don’t give him what he wants, he’ll kill Irena.”

  “Absolutely not,” Jace snaps, looking back at us. “You’re not going to—”

  “Of course not.” I roll my eyes. “It wouldn’t do any good, anyway. He would never let Irena free, but he is right about one thing. I don’t have any bartering chips in this situation. I do, however, have his location.”