Dreamwalker (Stormwalker #5) (12 page)

“Well?” Gabrielle asked, sprinting forward. “Is he squashed?”

Mick growled, still dragon no matter that he was walking on two legs as a human. “Couldn’t find him.”

I remembered Emmett simply disappearing after Mick had flamed his limo, and how he’d emerged from the fire without a mark on him. He’d likely teleported himself to safety before he hit the ground.

“Thanks anyway,” I said to Mick, my gratitude sincere. “You saved me from a bad situation.”

“Janet wouldn’t let me kill him,” Gabrielle said accusingly.

Drake turned night-black eyes on me. He’d battled Emmett with me this summer at Chaco Canyon and knew how evil he was.

“I wouldn’t let her use Beneath magic right on top of a vortex,” I corrected her. “That’s what Emmett wanted—for me to choose between getting killed by him or letting things out from Beneath. A dragon was exactly what I needed. Thanks, Mick.”

The words were casual, but my heart was in them. I couldn’t exactly jump Mick’s bones with Drake and Gabrielle looking on, though I had a hard time keeping myself away from him at the moment. When dragons shift to human, they’re unclothed, and they don’t seem to notice.

I noticed plenty—Mick was difficult not to give a second look to, and Drake was also well-formed. I hadn’t lied to Colby when I’d told him that.

Gabrielle didn’t pretend not to look her fill of Drake. She skimmed her gaze up and down him, while he lifted his hair back from his face, unaware of the handsome picture he made.

“So, Drake.” Gabrielle tucked her thumbs into her pockets and sauntered toward him. “There’s a restaurant in Flagstaff that has a great salsa bar. Twenty different kinds every day. Want to go with me and try them?”

Drake paused in the act of binding his hair and stared at her in perplexity. I saw him try to figure out why a Beneath-goddess’s daughter would want to meet a dragon at a Mexican restaurant in Flagstaff. He must suspect some battle strategy that was eluding him. Drake was an extremely smart and efficient dragon, but he knew damn-all about humans.

“Leave him alone,” I advised Gabrielle.

Gabrielle continued to study Drake. “Or we can skip dinner and you can show me all your tattoos.”

More puzzlement. Drake’s tatts were already on full display out here under the moonlight.

“Think about it.” Gabrielle mimed holding a phone to her ear. “Call me.”

Mick’s dragon calmed down as he watched the exchange. The red tinge left his eyes, and a slow grin creased his face. “If you took her out, you could keep an eye on her,” Mick said. “We’d know she was under some kind of control.”

“Aw, Mick,” Gabrielle said. “Don’t be a buzz kill.”

Drake understood that Mick was making fun of him. He finished tying his hair back and gave Mick a severe look. “Smith is a danger. Crush him or eat him next time.”

Mick moved behind me, enfolded me in his big arms, and kissed my hair. “I’m sure he has some contingency against being dragon food. As in blowing me up from the inside or having my own stomach acid eat through me. I didn’t drop him on purpose, in fact. He burned me.” Mick displayed his hand. A round, angry red welt decorated his palm. “I’d planned to take him to the dragon compound, so he could be confined or dismembered.”

“We should hunt him,” Gabrielle said brightly. “Janet and me and you dragons. I bet he’d have a hard time fighting all of us at once.”

“He fought us all with great skill at Chaco,” Drake reminded her. “But the point is well taken. At Chaco, we were divided in purpose. If we join forces to take this man down, we might succeed.”

“Awesome.” Gabrielle grinned. “How about you take me to that Mexican restaurant, and we talk strategy?”

Drake clearly had no idea what eating salsa had to do with battle plans, but he gave her a nod. “That might be a good idea.”

“Hot damn. I have a date with a dragon.” Gabrielle did a little victory hop. “Janet doesn’t get
all
the good guys.”

Janet had only had one guy in her life, who was right now breathing heat into her ear.

“You okay?” I asked him.

Mick shrugged, folding his fingers over his palm. “It will heal. We should go in. Who knows what else he’ll throw at us, or what he might do to gain possession of the mirror while we’re out here.”

My heart went ice cold. “Shit. My dad’s here. He came down from Many Farms to visit.”

I broke from Mick and started walking as rapidly as I could in this terrain. Mick jogged after me. Drake followed, Gabrielle breaking around us to run ahead. Neither of the dragons suggested flying—it wasn’t far back to the hotel, and there were too many people around for them to remain hidden. I wanted to point out that two tall, well-built men running in the back door stark naked would also cause chaos, but I kept that to myself.

I saw no sign of Ansel as we returned. I had to assume he’d recovered or taken himself somewhere to heal. I hoped so—what he’d done had taken great courage. I’d look in on him once I got Gabrielle home.

“What are you doing out here, Drake?” I asked him as we moved over the hills and crossed shallow washes. Mick provided a ball of warm dragon fire to light the way, nothing that would excite the vortexes. “Just happened to be passing?”

“No, I was with Mick, as planned.”

I looked at Mick in surprise, but he shook his head. Obviously, he hadn’t wanted Drake to impart that information. Mick didn’t elaborate, his mouth set in a grim line.

“So,” Gabrielle began. She walked backwards so she could pin her gaze on Drake. “When you say you were with Mick … Do you mean
with
him?”

Mick’s forbidding look fled, and he let out a laugh. “No way. I have better taste.”

Drake had no clue what they meant, but he did suspect he was being left out of a joke. He frowned at Mick and broke away before we reached the railroad bed.

Drake had a stash of clothes back here, I saw, packed away in a waterproof canvas bag. Made sense—that way, he could fly from the dragon compound in New Mexico, turn human, dress himself, and approach the hotel. I didn’t like the implication—that the dragons from the compound sent him frequently to look in on me.

Mick kept clothes in a duffel bag hidden behind scrub at the base of the railroad bed. He liked to have contingency stashes of clothing for when he had to unexpectedly shift to and from dragon.

Once Mick and Drake were clothed, Gabrielle enjoying herself watching Drake dress, we climbed the railroad bed.

As I stepped to the top, a waft of music floated out into the night. Low and mellow, the sound of a wooden flute drifted on the wind. It moaned, soft and sweet, the smooth shifting of notes followed by fluttering trills.

My feet fixed to the ground. I knew who played the flute with such an expert touch. It was my father, who must be outside on the grounds, or on the large patio behind the saloon Drake’s renovators had added.

I hadn’t heard him play in years—more than twenty at least. He’d played when I’d been a tiny child, out under the sky behind the house at Many Farms.

Grandmother hadn’t liked that. “He’s calling to
her
,” she’d snap.

She’d meant my mother. The men of our family made and played flutes, usually only for the women they loved. The music was a traditional ritual of courtship—legend said that woodpeckers showed the way for the first flute to be carved, and when that first musician played it, women were drawn to him. The other men, seeing this, had learned to carve them too.

My father had played for the woman he loved, hoping against hope that he’d see her again, no matter how dangerous she might be to him.

Then one day, he’d shut the flute away in a cupboard, never to take it out again. That day he’d decided, I realized much later, that my mother was never coming back.

Now my father was playing again. My heart turned over as I recognized his touch, the voice of his music. I knew also that he was no longer playing for my mother. He was playing for Gina.

Tears filled my eyes. My dad had been lonely for so long, and now he’d found a woman—a sensible, non-evil one—to share his life.

I was happy for him, ecstatically happy, but hearing him play for Gina gave me a small, left-out feeling. He’d never played the flute for me.

Mick’s large, warm hand landed on my shoulder. I looked up at him to find his blue eyes full of understanding. He knew me, did Mick, inside and out.

I gave him a shaky smile, nodded to indicate I was all right, and we headed down to the hotel.

***

My dad had drawn a crowd in the circular patio of the saloon. He stood off to one side, fingers moving easily on the flute, his head bowed and his eyes closed, his black braid unmoving on his back. Anyone might think him getting into his music, but I knew it embarrassed him when people watched him play. He didn’t mind if they
listened
, but all those eyes on him unnerved him.

My guests sat in groups around him, enraptured. Some of them were ordinary people who used the hotel as a point from which to explore the countryside and Indian lands. Others were magic-born, mostly witches, who came here for the auras of Magellan and the vortexes. One of the crowd was a Nightwalker, Ansel, restored and relaxed, a smile on his face.

Gina sat in a chair next to my father. She listened with silent intensity, the love in her eyes beautiful to see.

Gabrielle lingered at the edge of the crowd, eyes on my father, her expression strangely quiet. I left her there and silently entered the hotel through the back door into the kitchen.

Elena and my grandmother lingered, hands wrapped around steaming cups of tea at the table, while Don, the assistant, cleaned up the meal Elena had served my family. Grandmother and Elena looked up and gave me, Mick, and Drake identical belligerent looks.

“Too many Firewalkers here,” Grandmother said, casting a warning glance at Drake.

“You love us, Ruby.” Mick stepped to my grandmother and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

I waited for her to smack him with her cane, but Grandmother only humphed and didn’t move as he pulled away.
 

“Don’t be stupid,” she said. “
You
I can tolerate. That Colby is a different story. And I’m not so enamored of
you
.” She lifted the cane and pointed it at Drake.

Drake looked offended to be lumped into the same category as Colby, and I sensed his ire rise. I stepped in front of him. “If you even think about flaming my grandmother, I’m going to have to take you out.”

Drake’s irritation grew. “I have no intention of
flaming
anyone. The fact that Ruby Begay’s earthbound, shaman blood is in your veins is one reason the dragons have allowed you to live.”

Mick was another. They’d have to go through him to get to me, and they knew it.

“You can move, Janet,” Grandmother said. “I can defend myself against Firewalkers just fine.”

Like hell I would let Drake and my grandmother battle it out in my kitchen. I waved my hands, herding Drake toward the door. “Lobby. Now.”

Drake gave me a cold look but turned and stalked to the door. He was making it clear that he left the kitchen because
he
chose, not because I’d ordered him to.

Colby lay stretched out on one of the sofas in the empty lobby, watched over by Jamison’s statue. He was snoring. I moved to him and nudged the hand that dangled to the floor.

“Not exactly what I intended as decor,” I said when he snorted and opened his eyes.

“Hey, Janet.” Colby clasped my hand and held it fast. “Want to keep me company down here? Oh look, it’s Micky and Drakey, come to take away all the fun.”

Mick gave him a tolerant glance. Drake’s lip curled. “What is
that
doing here?”

I forestalled him. “My hotel—my friends. We can talk in my office if you want privacy.”

Drake’s brow furrowed. “Privacy for what?”

“To tell me what you and Mick were meeting in secret about. I have learned not to let dragons get away with hiding what they’re up to.”

Mick’s warm expression deserted him, his eyes reverting to dragon black. He sent Drake a warning look—obviously he did
not
want Drake spilling the details to me.

Drake equally as obviously saw no reason to keep it quiet. “We were discussing the question of your mortality, Stormwalker. The brief moment of the human lifespan versus the longer one of a dragon. This is an important point to consider when a dragon takes a human mate. He’ll live hundreds of years while you, Janet, die and fade to dust.”

Chapter Thirteen

One thing about Drake—he could boil down an issue to its very essence.

Colby sat up, his eyes widening. “Yeah, that’s a very good point. Watcha gonna do, Micky?”

Drake continued. “Mick was consulting me, and the Dragon Council, about ways to shorten his own lifespan to match Janet’s.”

“What?”
I froze, going tight with astonishment. When my breath came back to me, I swung on Mick. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Mick’s eyes glittered with anger but he didn’t look in the least bit ashamed. “It is
one
possibility. I have been researching many avenues. I consulted the Dragon Council and their records about that one.”

My chest constricted as I spoke. “Mick, why the hell would you want to shorten your lifespan? That’s crazy!”

“’Cause he doesn’t want to live without you,” Colby broke in. “Isn’t it obvious? It’s easy to shorten your lifespan, though, Micky. Just dive into a live volcano and don’t come out.”

“That might not actually kill a dragon,” Drake said. “We’re born in volcanoes after all …”

“It was a
joke
, you dickhead,” Colby rumbled.

I ignored them to plant myself in front of Mick. “This stops now. I agreed to marry you, be your mate, whatever you want to call it. We enjoy what time we have together. What comes, comes. That’s what everyone does.”

Mick wore his stubborn look, which meant blank and intractable.

Drake continued when Mick remained silent. “Human lifespans can be lengthened, for instance. You, Janet, have so much uncertain magic in you that you naturally might live as long as Mick. However, tampering with that magic, as in a spell to extend your life, has a slight chance of killing you.”