Sparks Fly: A Novel of the Light Dragons Page 8

  A woman strolling past us with two basset hounds looked startled before hurrying on. A few yards away from us, Ludovic frowned when I stopped. He glanced around the street before cocking an eyebrow at me.

  “Yes, that’s exactly what I want you to do.”

  “That I will gladly do without requiring a further commitment of help from you, but only after I reclaim my sept.”

  “No!” My fingers itched with the need to throttle him. “Constantine, I don’t know what any of us has to do to make you understand this, but I’m going to give it one more shot because you were a good friend to me before you lied to me and dishonorably bound me to you in order to keep me away from Baltic—Gabriel is a good wyvern. The members of his sept—and it is his sept, not yours any longer—love him. They will stand behind him no matter what. You can challenge him from here to kingdom come, and they’ll still stand behind him. If you persist on this idiotic course of trying to oust him, all you’ll do is destroy the sept, because I can guarantee you that if Gabriel were to leave, all the rest of the silver dragons would go with him.”

  Constantine appeared before me, a pugnacious look on his face. I glanced around quickly, but no one was close enough to have seen his materialization…no one but Ludovic, who started in surprise. I gestured to him that it was OK, but still he headed toward me.

  “The very same dragons who followed me when I left the black sept!” Constantine snapped, anger and pain and frustration in his voice and expression.

  “Yes, those very same people,” I said, putting my hand on his arm. “But you’ve been gone for four hundred years, Constantine. They aren’t your followers anymore. They have a wyvern, a good man, one who will fight you to his death to keep them. Do you really care so little about the silver dragons that you would destroy them simply to satisfy your own ego?”

  He digested this for a moment. “They are not my sept any longer? I am not a silver dragon?”

  Pain lashed him, pain that I knew well. I hugged him, wishing things had turned out differently, wishing I’d listened to Baltic and never had Constantine’s shade raised. “I think you’re like me—once a silver dragon, and now something else.”

  “You are a light dragon,” Constantine said, looking curiously at me.

  For one horrible moment, I thought he was going to demand that I persuade Baltic into accepting him into the sept, but he simply looked beyond me. “But before that, you were a black dragon.”

  “Yes. I was born silver, but I became a black dragon when I accepted Baltic as my mate.”

  His voice and expression were contemplative. “Hmm.”

  Ludovic was growing impatient, gesturing toward his watch even as he continued to scan the streets for potential threats.

  “I have to go, Constantine. Is there…This sounds so strange…. Do you live anywhere? Is there somewhere I can contact you about the situation with Kostya?”

  “Kostya,” he said in that same tone of contemplation, his attention focused on some inner vision. “Yes, I believe that will suffice. It should have been mine by rights, after all.”

  “Also, do you have a cell phone? Or is there some other way I can get a hold of—what should have been yours by rights?” I asked, suddenly suspicious of the pleased look that spread across his face.

  His lips curled in a smile as he grabbed me, suddenly fully solid, and pressed a fast, hard kiss on my lips. “The black sept, of course. Your idea is most excellent, Ysolde. It should have been mine to begin with, but that underhanded Baltic used his grandfather’s affection to challenge me for the position of heir, and Alexei gave it to him.”

  “Whoa,” I said, twisting myself out of his grip. “I asked you to steal a shard from Kostya, not take his sept!”

  “But now,” Constantine said, continuing just as if I hadn’t spoken, “I will have my revenge, against Baltic, against Alexei, against all of them. I will take the black sept, and return it to its full glory!”

  “Heaven preserve me from dragons with one-track minds,” I swore.

  Chapter Five

  “Savian speaking.”

  “Hello, I don’t know if you remember me, but my name is Ysolde de Bouchier, and I—”

  “Ack!” The man on the other end of the phone squawked so loudly that Ludovic, at the wheel of the car as we headed back to the pub, cast a curious glance at me in the rearview mirror. “You’re the deranged dragon who has the unnatural interest in my nuts!”

  “I am neither deranged nor do I give a fig about your testicles,” I said with much dignity.

  “You threatened to turn them into toads!”

  “It was all a mistake, and I apologized later for that. Besides, it’s not like I actually did turn them into anything. It’s just that you were being very annoying by telling Gabriel and May that my ex-husband hired you to get me away from them, which was extremely embarrassing considering they were nothing but nice to me, so really, any testicular threats made—and again, I will point out that they were threats only, and not actions—were perfectly reasonable given the circumstances.”

  Savian Bartholomew, roguish Englishman famed for both his ability in tracking, and his record as a thief-taker for the L’au-dela, breathed heavily into the phone at me. “That point is open to debate. If you didn’t call me up to harass my nuts, what do you want?”

  “I have a job for you, one involving the location of a stronghold.” I had to go carefully here, needing to assess his willingness to steal something from people who occasionally employed him.

  “Which stronghold?”

  I cleared my throat and idly watched the buildings stream by as we passed into the London suburb where the pub was located. “I don’t know that it has a proper name, but it’s a place where items of great value are stored.”

  “I’m not a thief,” he warned, his voice rife with suspicion. “If you’re thinking to hire me to steal something for you, you can just think again.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of asking you to steal anything that wasn’t mine. And as a matter of fact, the item that I do want removed from this stronghold belongs to Baltic, so even if I was thinking of it, it would be perfectly moral to do so. However, all I need is for the location of the stronghold to be found. After that, your job is done.”

  “You’re talking about a dragon’s lair, aren’t you?” Savian’s voice was relaxed now, almost lighthearted. “But wait. May said you’re hooked up with that wyvern with the deranged theurgist who almost killed me when I hunted down his lair. Whose lair do you want found if it’s not his?”

  “It’s not really a lair I want found. Well, perhaps it is of sorts, but it…uh…doesn’t belong to a dragon. I’m glad you mentioned May, though. She said that she and Gabriel had hired you to do some things that would have made Dr. Kostich angry had he known about them.”

  “Now you’re blackmailing me?” he asked, his voice rising.

  “No, no, I’d never dream of doing that. I just wanted to make sure that I understood exactly what it was that May said, and that you were willing—should the price be suitable, naturally—to do things that may not be looked kindly upon by the L’au-dela Committee. Is that correct?”

  “Well, I’m not going to kill anyone, or steal something, if that’s what you’re asking. But if you are speaking of a greyer area…I’d be open to discussing the situation.”

  He sounded intrigued now. I was counting on May’s having said his loyalty could be swayed away from the group that ran the Otherworld, and slumped back against the seat in relief. Another glance out the window warned me we were almost home. “Look, this is too complicated to work out over the phone. Can we meet to discuss the details?” I gave him directions to the pub. “Say, an hour?”

  “I could do that,” he said slowly. “If you promise me one thing, that is.”

  I sighed. “I assure you that I have absolutely no designs on any part of your genitalia—”

  “No, not that, although I will hold you to that promise.”

  “What
do you want, then?” I asked, curious.

  “Carte blanche to beat the living daylights out of that lieutenant your wyvern keeps around to destroy innocent people.”

  I smiled as Ludovic pulled into a spot behind the pub. “I wish I could. There’s nothing I’d like more than to see Thala brought down a peg or two, but she’s gone to earth in Nepal. However, I think I can say with all confidence that if you were to find her, you could have at her with impunity—as well as a whole lot of my personal appreciation.”

  “I’ll be there at eight,” Savian promised before hanging up.

  Pavel was busily making dinner in the pub’s kitchen when I entered.

  “Evening, Pavel. Did Brom and Nico get home?”

  “Yes, about an hour ago. Nico went off to deal with a minor family emergency but said he should be back shortly. Baltic is around somewhere, arguing with the builder about whether or not it’s reasonable to rebuild Dauva to its original specifications.”

  “Oh yes, I can just imagine what the locals will think of a medieval castle popping up out of nowhere. I’d better go reason with him.” I started for the stairs that led up to our rooms but stopped to sniff the air, trying to guess what it was he was cooking. “Is that…roast beef?”

  “Roast Angus beef with Yorkshire pudding,” he answered, looking up with a smile. Pavel and I shared a love of cooking that amused Baltic, although I noticed he never complained about the fruits of our labors.

  “Oooh, so very English. I’ve never tried to make Yorkshire pudding. Do you need help?”

  “No, my friend Holland is due any minute. He’ll give me a hand with the starters if I need it.”

  “We’re having appetizers? What’s the occas—did you say friend? You mean a friend, like the Casemonts who own this pub? Or a friend friend?”

  Pavel laughed, dusted off his hands, and to my absolute astonishment, winked. “Holland is a friend I’ve known for some time…but he was involved with someone before.”

  I tried to look not in the least bit interested in Pavel’s somewhat complicated love life. “How nice for you. What are you making now?”

  “Langoustine tortellini. It’ll be served with some vegetables, green lentils, and a shellfish cream.”

  “That sounds heavenly. Did you want me to whip together something for dessert? What…er…what sorts of things is your friend into? I mean, what does he like? Food-wise, that is.” I coughed, my face turning red as Pavel laughed again.

  “I made roasted-banana ice cream earlier, and we’ll have that with cinnamon doughnuts with honeycomb cream, unless there’s something else you’d prefer.”

  “No, no, that sounds fine.” I eyed him, wondering if I should dress up for dinner, then realized how strange it was that I was even thinking of dressing for his date. “Sounds like you have everything under control. Which reminds me, I have a few things for you. I’ll give them to you after dinner, since you’re busy now, and they…er…I’ll just give them to you later. But I do think your friend will like them. At least, I hope he likes them….”

  Pavel’s lips twitched, but he said in a perfectly sober voice, “I’m sure Holland will enjoy whatever you have for us, as will I.”

  “Good. Well, then. I’ll just go see how many turrets and drawbridges Baltic needs to be talked out of. And maybe I’ll run by him the idea of us…hmm.”

  “He said no,” Pavel called after me as I hurried up the stairs. I paused and bent down low to look over the banister at him. “I wouldn’t mind if you were present, but Baltic seems adamant on the subject.”

  I swore. “Dammit, he has this bizarre idea that I’m fascinated by the idea of you with…and of course, I’m not.”

  “Of course.”

  “Not in the least. I mean, I’m happy that you’ve found a friend again, naturally, because you deserve some companionship. But just because that friend is a man doesn’t mean anything to me, nothing at all.”

  Pavel’s eyebrows rose.

  “He really said no? To you? Right to your face?”

  He nodded.

  I ground my teeth and continued up the stairs, intent on informing Baltic once and for all that I had no outlandish sexual fantasies, and the sooner he admitted that, the happier we’d all be. I paused quickly to check on Brom, mentally organizing several arguments that Baltic would be unable to dispute.

  Brom’s room was empty, although judging by the notebooks, pamphlets, clothing, and assorted detritus usually associated with my son that was strewn around the small bedroom, he had been there recently.

  I continued on to our room, dropped off the shopping bags, and collected the laptop that Baltic had purchased the week before; then I headed down the front stairs to the private room that Baltic tended to use as his office.

  “…Don’t care what you say it used to look like, I’m telling you that no one has a moat anymore. It’s all high-tech security these days, dragon.”

  “I can have a high-tech moat,” Baltic insisted, tapping an architectural plan that was spread out on a small round table. “I do not intend for the new Dauva to be anything less than what it originally was.”

  “I thought we’d been through this already,” I said as I entered the room, pausing to glance around it. “Back when you were having the plans for the new Dauva drawn up. Where’s Brom?”

  “That design had too many faults,” Baltic said, holding out his hand for me. “I want it redesigned.”

  “Two days before we’re due to start clearing the land.” The builder, whose name was Murphy, stabbed his fingers through his hair. “This is why I don’t like working with dragons! You’re always expecting me to work miracles.”

  “Where’s Brom?” I asked again as Baltic’s fingers wrapped around mine.

  “Upstairs in his room. Mate, do you not think that four towers—”

  “No, he’s not upstairs. I was just up there. Brom?” I released Baltic’s hand and went out into the corridor that ran between the main section of the pub and the side rooms, quickly checking the rooms for signs of him. Seeing that they were empty sent a chill down my spine, my belly suddenly feeling as if it had been gripped with a clammy hand. I ran to the main room of the pub, hurrying over to the bar. “Angela, have you seen Brom?”

  “Not since this morning, luv,” the short, round woman said, wiping off a tap before handing over a pint of dark ale. “Oh, but someone left a letter for you. Let me see, where did I…Ah, here it is.”

  She handed me an envelope before turning to the next customer.

  Baltic appeared in the door to the pub, a frown pulling down his dark chocolate eyebrows. “Did you find him?”

  “He’s not here. Baltic—” A wave of fear crashed over me, making my skin crawl. “You don’t think Thala—”

  “No. She would not,” he said with absolute conviction, but that did little to ease the panic that clutched me. I ran past him to the door of the pub, quickly searching the parking lot and the street for signs of Brom.

  “Where has he gone?” I wailed to Baltic, spinning around, unsure of what to do, or where to look for him. “He doesn’t just wander off like this, not when he knows how worried I am!”

  Baltic had his cell phone to his ear, his eyes darting around the street. “He does not answer his phone. Where’s the tutor?”

  “Gone off to deal with some family situation.” I reached toward my pocket to yank out my own phone, but the letter Angela had given me was still in my hand.

  “What is that?” Baltic asked, frowning.

  “I don’t know. Angela said someone left it for me—” I froze, my horror-filled gaze meeting Baltic’s for a moment before I shredded the envelope in my attempt to get the letter out. My hands were shaking so badly, Baltic had to pull the paper from the envelope.

  My stomach turned over as I read the words.

  Sullivan: I have Brom. If you want to see him again, you’ll do exactly what I say. If you contact the Watch, or mundane police, he’ll suffer. His mobile phone is under his pillow
—I’ll call his phone tomorrow at noon with instructions, but in the meantime, have that dragon start gathering up gold, because you’re going to need lots of it if you ever want to see the kid again.

  It was signed with one word: Gareth.

  For a moment, the world swam around me in a sickening fashion. I clutched Baltic’s shirt, trying to keep from vomiting or passing out, both of which were likely at that moment. Baltic’s arms were warm around me, holding me tight and keeping me safe as he murmured words of reassurance in my ear.

  “Do not swoon, chérie. I cannot find my son if you need my attention, too.”

  “Brom,” I said, choking on the word. Tears streamed down my face as I grabbed his arms. “He’s taken my baby!”

  “Our son is not a baby,” Baltic said firmly, giving me a little shake before turning me toward the pub. “He is smart, and clever, and he will not be frightened by insignificant beings like the one who spawned him. He will know that we will not tolerate this abduction and will reclaim him immediately. Come, mate.”

  Oddly enough, what Baltic said made me feel a tiny bit better. In part, the knowledge that Brom was everything Baltic said reassured me, but mostly it was the fire I felt raging inside him. Baltic was beyond furious, his dragon fire threatening to slip his control, and I knew to the depths of my soul that he would move heaven and earth to get Brom back.

  That didn’t stop me from pacing the floor in Baltic’s workroom an hour later, however, as he made several phone calls, attempting to locate Gareth. Pavel, with his friend Holland in tow, arrived to say that they’d thoroughly searched the pub and immediate area, and no one remembered seeing Brom or anyone resembling Gareth.

  “If he so much as touches one hair on Brom’s adorable head,” I swore, “if he harms him in any way, I will take his scrotum and pull it over the top of his head.”

  “If you’re talking about me, I’m leaving,” a male voice said from the doorway. I spun around to see Baltic who, moving so fast he was a blur, was smashing a tall, angular man against the wall.