The ringing in my ears roused me—incessant bells clanging through my head and pulling me out of what had previously been a peaceful slumber. As I opened my eyes, I realized that I was no longer in the cube. Or, rather, that the cube no longer existed in any recognizable shape. Shattered metal surrounded me, huge chunks torn away and scattered about. Some of the shards had even been wedged into nearby walls. Only minutes before, I would have found such a spectacular display of strength to be mind-boggling. After holding a fraction of Gideon’s power, I was more impressed by his restraint than anything else.
Getting to my feet, I was struck by how much my body ached. Since becoming a vampire, I’d been hurt more than once, but the general pains of wear on a body were a thing of the past. My natural resiliency and rapid healing negated daily damage faster than it could pile up. It seemed that was not the case with channeling dragon magic, however. I was going to need a healthy dose of blood—human, this time—before I was back at a hundred percent.
It was only after standing that I noticed the corpses around me. There were five of them, and I couldn’t recognize any from what remained of their faces, so I it seemed like good odds that none were Bubba and Amy. As I began trudging out of the room, it occurred to me that I should have been overwhelmed by the scent of their blood. Instead, it was something I’d had to mentally hunt for, sorting through the smells of the room to pick it out.
Once I made it outside the office, I heard a racket from several floors below. People were yelling, furniture was being smashed, and . . . and actually, that was all I could make out. The ringing in my ears had largely faded, but my hearing still wasn’t able to discern what was going on in any fine detail.
I was halfway to the elevator when I finally snapped to what was going on. (In my defense, being piloted by an ancient dragon is a mentally draining experience. But I got there eventually.) The runes in the building suppressed the power of anyone who wasn’t as powerful as the caster, or carting around the blood of someone stronger. Whatever Gideon had done must have used up all of the draconic power inside me. I was just a vampire again, and that meant I was as susceptible to the suppression magic as everyone else.
Truthfully, that fact should have terrified me, but, more than anything, I felt relieved. Carrying around even a small piece of Gideon’s magic had been a strange experience, more than I really wanted to deal with. Just being a vampire was plenty for me; I didn’t need to go augmenting myself like Quinn, my awful sire. It was good to be back to normal. Well, my version of “normal,” anyway.
I punched the down button on the elevator just as a giant roar shook the building. I nearly fell over, barely catching myself against the wall in time. Right, no vampire dexterity to compensate for my natural clumsiness. This would take some getting used to.
After the roar, I decided that stairs were probably a safer bet and made my way down the hallway to the nearest stairwell. At this point, I had no idea where I was heading, only that I wanted to make sure everyone was okay. I made it down three flights before I missed my footing. I grabbed for the railing, but my hands were too slow, and I ended up falling forward. I bounced three times before landing on my head.
Vampires can’t sleep during the night. It’s just one of those things I’d gotten used to over the years. But apparently, dragon magic isn’t to be underestimated, because I still managed to pass out at the bottom of the stairwell.
☼
When I came to, the first thing I noticed was the scent of the person who was holding me up. It hit me before I even registered that I was standing, or that I was outside the building, or any other of the inane details that followed. No, the scent came first, overwhelming every other piece of information and telling me exactly who I was near. It wasn’t a particularly rational way for my brain to process what was happening, but, then again, isn’t love supposed to be irrational by design?
“Easy there, big fella,” Krystal said, walking us another few steps forward. “You should start feeling better any minute now.”
She was right. Already I could tell that the small pains in my body were fading away, though the pronounced headache I’d suddenly acquired seemed to be taking its sweet time. I probably could have supported myself and stopped leaning on her, but I didn’t try. At that moment, I needed the proximity for a support that had nothing to do with the state of my physical being.
Krystal slid me onto a bench, and I pulled her with me. She didn’t resist, and the two of us were soon seated, staring at Richard’s building. A large chunk of the wall had been blasted out, and the pouring smoke told the story of a fire smoldering somewhere inside. In the distance, I could hear sirens as the various response teams raced to the scene, but none of the gala guests milling about looked particularly worried.
“Is everyone okay?”
“Not everyone everyone, but all of the gang made it through fine,” Krystal assured me. “Gideon punched into the room with Bubba and Amy in hand—well . . . claw, really—and dropped them with me before attacking the imposter. Arch and I started evacuating everyone, but when dragons fight there’s bound to be a few caught in the crossfire. Still, we cleared as many people out as we could. Arch even went and got Sally out of her room personally.”
“That was good of him.”
“I know Arch comes off rough, but he’s one of the good guys. Besides, it was the only way to keep Richard from charging up there himself,” Krystal said. “Anyway, we were nearly out when Bubba finally told me that you’d been left behind when Gideon popped out of his cage. I went hunting for you, only to find my boyfriend passed out in the stairs like a freshman after a kegger.”
“If only. Merlot hangovers have nothing on what Gideon left me with.” My head was slowly clearing as my vampiric healing kicked back into gear, but it was sure taking longer than I would have preferred. Were I a car, my gas light would no doubt have been on.
“Yeah, we’re going to have to have a long chat about that, once you’re feeling better,” Krystal said. “I’ve grabbed bits and pieces, but this seems like the kind of story I’m going to have to file a report about.”
“I’ll do my best, but I’m warning you right now that the details will be fuzzy,” I told her. My mind wandered back into the cube and the conversation with Gideon. Already, I was trying to sort through it and get everything catalogued into a nice, prepared package for when Krystal asked her questions. As I sifted through, though, something stuck out to me.
“Krystal, do you know what a ‘tiamat’ is?”
“If memory serves, it’s a creature from dragon lore, named after the mythological mother of dragon kind. They’re supposed to be a sort of half-breed or something. They were revered because they could birth full-blooded dragons, but with a much higher rate, hence the mother-dragon reference. It’s very difficult for dragons to conceive, which is pretty much the only reason they don’t rule the planet. Why do you ask?”
Had there been any pulsing blood in my face, it no doubt would have drained away as the implications of her words set in. I might not know the details, but there was no doubt in my mind that I’d just stumbled across something far more important than a man of my level was meant to know. It was the sort of realization that would likely haunt my thoughts for some while, so I chose to veer away from it rather than dwell.
“Just curious. This whole thing has got me interested in dragons. By the way, what was this” —I gestured to the shattered part of Richard’s building— “whole thing, anyway?”
“Near as we could figure, a second attempt at a coo. Seems that new leader the other tribe elected had a lot more in common with the first than we realized. He was smarter, at least. Hired another dragon to neutralize Gideon when they made their move.”
“I was afraid it would be something like that.” I sighed. “Let me guess: this will put something of a damper on their diplomatic negotiations.”
“No, Fred. There aren’t going to be any more negotiations.” Krystal reached over and put her arm around my shoulders, pulling me in closer. “That tribe locked up the King of the West. Even if Gideon were inclined to feel merciful, there are political ramifications to that which he can’t let slide.”
“You’re saying the other tribe will have to find shelter elsewhere.”
“I’m saying that, by the time the sun rises, there isn’t going to be a second tribe.” Krystal kept her eyes trained forward, watching the wind move bits of glass that littered the sidewalk.
I should have been shocked, or outraged, or grief-stricken for all those Gideon was no doubt already hunting down, but all of that would come later. In that moment, I was just too tired to muster up more than a cursory sense of sadness. It didn’t seem right to purge an entire tribe of therians based on the actions of a few; however, I could understand why Gideon felt it necessary. It was that fact, more than anything he was doing, that disturbed me.
“When you’re feeling better, we can go find the others,” Krystal told me. “They’re probably with Arch. He was rounding people up when I went back to get you.”
“That sounds nice,” I said. “After all this, I just want to see that everyone’s safe and go back to the apartment.”
“Same here.” Krystal rose from the bench, keeping her hand intertwined with mine as she pulled me up. She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek, leaving a slight smear of red lipstick when she pulled away.
“Let’s get our family and go home.”