 
## **Contents**

Synopsis

Copyright

Title Page

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Smoke

The Slayer Chronicles, Book One

by Val St. Crowe

When Naelen Spencer shows up at Clarke Gannon's apartment saying he wants to hire her to hunt his sister down, she's got zilch inclination to actually take that job.

For one thing, she's not actually looking for an employer. For another thing, Naelen is the kind of rich, entitled playboy that she hates. For a third thing, he's a dragon shifter, and she's a dragon slayer. Those things don't mix.

Sure, okay, she doesn't kill shifters, only soulless, monster dragons that do nothing but burn, kill, and destroy.

And fine, he does happen to have eyes like the sky in high summer and a deep voice that makes her feel warm all over.

And all right, she needs the money he's offering. She could use it to help her sister, who's never caught a break her entire life.

But screw that guy.

That's what she wants to say, anyway. Instead, she ends up taking him up on his offer, and then she's flying off in a private jet to get mixed up with a creepy country town, a nest of powerful vampires, and a bunch of potent magical objects.
SMOKE

© copyright 2016 by Val St.Crowe

http://vjchambers.com

Punk Rawk Books

Please do not copy or post this book in its entirety or in parts anywhere. You may, however, share the entire book with a friend by forwarding the entire file to them. (And I won't get mad.)

Smoke

The Slayer Chronicles, Book One

Val St. Crowe

CHAPTER ONE

I came home to find Naelen Spencer standing on my front doorstep, knocking on the door of my apartment. I didn't know Naelen Spencer personally or anything, but I did recognize him from pictures in the news. He was always making headlines, buying up something-or-other, making mergers left and right. Guy was a dragon-shifter mogul, a billionaire.

What the hell was he doing outside my crappy apartment?

I marched up behind him and cleared my throat. "Excuse me?"

He turned, looking me up and down. "Yes?" He was wearing a suit—gray pinstripe with a burgundy tie. And he was much more attractive in person than he was in the photos on the news, and that was saying something, because I'd always thought he was something of a looker to begin with. But up close, his eyes were incredibly blue. Like the sky in high summer, like blue topaz, and they were multi-faceted too. Iridescent. Eyes a girl could get lost in.

I swallowed. "That's my apartment."

He took a step back. "You're Clarke Gannon?"

"That's me," I said.

A big smile broke out across his face, which only made him even dreamier. "Great. I was beginning to worry that I'd have to come back later. I'm so glad you came home."

He was?

I folded my arms over my chest. "Why?"

"I need your help," he said. "I need to hire you."

"I'm not looking for an employer, actually." I glared at him. I wasn't exactly sure why I was pissed off at him, but it had something to do with how freaking blue his eyes were and something to do with how much they were affecting me.

"Of course not," he said. "You work for yourself normally. An independent contractor. You're a dragon slayer."

"Want to say that louder? I'm not sure everyone in the building heard you."

He looked confused. "Pardon?"

"You do realize it's illegal to be a dragon slayer." I pushed past him, fitted my key into the lock of my apartment door and slid inside. Now on the other side of the door, I felt safer. There was something between us. Something I could slam if I got the notion.

"Uh..." He chuckled, looking down at his feet. "Yes, I suppose I might have heard that somewhere." He offered me a sheepish grin. "I'm making a bit of a mess of this, aren't I? I'm sorry. It's a problem I have. People are always telling me that I'm hell at explaining myself. I get an idea and I'm so excited to run with it, I have trouble explaining the details to others. Maybe I could start over?"

I just regarded him coolly, one hand on the doorknob in case I did feel like slamming it in his face.

"My name is Naelen Spencer."

"I know who you are," I said.

"You do?" He looked confused. "Have we met?"

"No, but I've seen your face plastered all over CNBC," I said.

"Ah," he said. "Right. Of course." He cleared his throat. "Well, at any rate, I need to hire you."

"You're a dragon," I said. "I kill dragons. I don't see how this is going to work."

"No," he said, raising a finger. "You don't. At least, not according to Penelope Caspian, who helped me track you down. At least, that is, you only kill a certain kind of dragon. And I'm not that kind."

My nostrils flared. "Penny needs to keep her mouth shut." She was a local hotel owner whose path had crossed with mine several times in the past year or so. I wouldn't go so far as to call us friends, but we were more than acquaintances.

"Oh, I pestered her and pestered her," said Naelen. "You really can't blame her. I can be incredibly annoying when I want to be."

I pursed my lips.

"Oh." He cringed. "Am I being annoying now? I don't mean to be annoying. You have to work for me, and you can't say no, so—"

"No," I said. I slammed the door in his face.

There. I squared my shoulders, took a deep breath, and started into my apartment. That was better. I was much better off without an insanely attractive, filthy rich dragon shifter in my face.

A knock on the door.

I ignored it, walking into my living room, which was a wreck. I really needed to clean in here, but I never got around to it. It didn't help that my sister Gina crashed here sometimes, and she was an utter slob.

The door to my apartment opened.

Damn it, I hadn't locked it?

Naelen walked in. "I'm sorry," he said, shutting the door behind him, "but I really can't let you say no to me." He was still smiling, but there was an undercurrent of steel to his voice, something that hadn't been there before.

"I just did," I said. "No."

"Miss Gannon, you haven't heard the job I need you to do."

I shrugged. "Don't care. I don't work for anyone, but especially not snobby little rich boys like you."

His eyebrows shot up.

I lifted my chin. Yeah, I'd insulted him. Wow, I hadn't realized how broad his shoulders were. Those were... broad shoulders.

He advanced on me. "If you'll simply allow me to finish my proposal before you dismiss it out of hand?"

Oh, he was getting close now. I should back up. I should back up, because he was going to be right in my face. But backing up was weak. I stood my ground. "Get out of my apartment."

He stopped. There were three inches between our bodies. His voice lowered. "I came to you because I know that you are the slayer who is returning the bodies of dead rogue dragons to their families."

I clenched my hands in fists. "Penny really needs to keep her mouth shut." I had recently learned that when a dragon shifter died, the typical thing was for the dragon to leave his or her remains to the family. The families of dragons used pieces of their ancestors to make magical talismans and to honor their ancestors by using their magic.

Thing was, dragons were the only magic thing in the world. Every piece of magic came from dragons some way or other.

Some slayers killed dragons for that reason. Lots of money to be made cutting up a dragon corpse. Vampires would pay for the blood. Drakes would pay for the flesh. Mages would pay for the scales and teeth.

"I think what you're doing is commendable," said Naelen. His get-lost-in eyes locked onto mine.

Suddenly, my palms started to sweat. I unclenched my hands. "I don't care what you think," I said, and my voice was just a little breathless.

Some slayers would kill any dragon they saw. If Naelen here were to shift into a dragon in front of them, they'd get out their bow and arrows and put one right through his skull.

But not me. I only killed rogue dragons.

They were soulless. For one reason or another, they didn't have a human attached to their dragon form anymore, or—in some cases—they never had. They were just raging beasts. All they did was burn, kill, and destroy. They were monsters who had to be stopped. That was the only kind of dragon I killed.

When I recently found out that some of the rogues used to be shifters, I felt like I owed it to their families to return their bodies.

I used to sell them off and generally the only people who took them off my hands were going to cut them up. Always made me feel twitchy. But, hell, I needed the money.

These days, the only dragon corpses I sold off were ones who didn't have families looking for them, ones who'd never been shifters.

It eased my conscience, but I had to admit that it didn't line my wallet. And I'd never made a lot of money from this gig anyway, considering I'd never been much for trying to sell off the dragon parts.

It was true, though, that things were worse than they'd ever been. It was probably going to be a struggle to make rent this month. Maybe I could use a job.

I ripped my gaze away from his. "All right, I'll listen to what you have to say."

"My sister is missing," he said. "No one's heard from her, and I'm worried that she's turned into a rogue."

"How do you even know about rogues?" I said. Rogues were hardly common knowledge. Any time an attack happened, it got covered up real quick. "Penny Caspian tell you about that too?" She claimed she had proof that a corporation called Eaglelinx's products were creating the rogues and they were covering up the side effects because they couldn't let go of their profits. She was working to stop them.

"I heard rumors," he said. "But Penny confirmed them."

"Well, then," I said, "I still don't see why you want me."

"I think there's got to be a cure," he said.

"There's not," I said. "When a dragon becomes a rogue, their human body is destroyed. The human part of the dragon is gone."

"We don't know that," he said. "It's only a theory. I have resources, and I believe that with some study, I might be able to find the cure. And so I want you to help me find Reign and capture her."

"Reign?"

"Reign is my sister."

"Oh," I said. Naelen and Reign, huh? What had their parents been thinking? "Look, I don't capture rogues. I kill them."

"I've had special tranquilizing arrows made especially for you," he said. "We'll hunt her down, and then you'll shoot her with one of them and then I'll take her back someplace safe and I will find that cure."

I sighed. Damn it, I couldn't take this job. This wasn't a job. This was some man on a mission that was never going to work out. "If your sister is a rogue, then she's gone. Completely gone. There's no curing her. Holding her somewhere would only be dangerous. If you do this, she will escape, and she will kill people. Their blood will be on your hands."

"That's not your concern," he said. "I will be responsible for keeping her from injuring anyone once she's been captured. You don't need to worry about that." He took another step toward me.

I did take a step back this time. He was too close. I collided with my coffee table, and several empty bottles of Corona toppled over with a clanking noise. I grimaced. I was actually embarrassed of this mess, even though he hadn't seemed to notice.

He stepped closer.

And now I was trapped unless I wanted to climb onto the coffee table.

His voice went low and urgent. "This is very important to me, Miss Gannon. You're the best. You have the right attitude and moral compass, and I need you. You will help me."

I shook my head slowly. "I'm sorry," I said in a soft voice. "I can't be part of what you're doing."

He licked his lips, his voice still quiet. "I'll be happy to pay you whatever you require. How much money do you pay to rent this place?" He gestured around.

"How is that your business?"

"Tell me what it is, and I'll pay you twelve times the amount."

I choked.

"That's right," he said, his voice a rough whisper, "one year without worrying about rent. How does that sound?"

I didn't like being so close to him. His eyes were boring into me, and his shoulders were so wide and... and strong, and his voice was almost... sensual. I wanted to reach out and push him away, but I was terrified of touching him. I didn't know if I could handle that. "I can't help you," I managed.

"Two years' rent," he said in his urgent, scratchy voice.

"No," I whispered. I couldn't. A rogue kept alive? It was insane.

"Tell me how much," he insisted.

I stepped sideways, evading his gaze, his body. I collided with my couch this time. It was covered in a ratty throw blanket. I sat down hard on it. "You need to get out of my apartment."

"You aren't saying no to me," he said. "You can't say no to me. No one says no to me."

I got to my feet. "I am. I'm saying no." I pointed at the door. "Get out."

He cast his gaze heavenward, sucking in air through his nose. Then he focused on me again. "All right," he said, taking a step back, his voice returning to normal. "I've done something wrong. Tell me what it is, and I'll fix it."

"Rogues can't be captured," I said.

"Nonsense," he said. "You can't tell me that you're seriously objecting to this based on some ideal. I promise you, she'll be locked up quite tight until I find the cure."

"That's just it." I moved behind the coffee table. I liked having it between us. "There's no cure to find. You'll simply be delaying the inevitable. Eventually, you'll have to kill the rogue."

"No, I won't—"

"Exactly," I said. "You won't. You'll hang on and on and on. And eventually, the rogue will get loose, and people will die. That's not what I do. I save people, Mr. Spencer, I don't put them in danger."

"You're being melodramatic."

"I'm very sorry, but the answer is no. And I think it's time you left."

CHAPTER TWO

"The usual, Clarke?" said the bartender at Happy Harry's Bar and Grill, the bar where I usually came to hang out. This place was a popular hangout for slayers in Sea City, which was a haven for magical creatures. We had a high per capita of vampires, drakes, dragons, and gargoyles.

"Yeah," I said.

He slid me a bottle of Corona with a lime shoved in the top. I liked the lime, but it was tricky, because if I shoved it in the wrong way, sometimes the beer exploded with foam everywhere for some reason I couldn't understand. So, carefully, I began pushing it down into the bottle.

The jukebox was playing "Fantastic Voyage," by Coolio. Not my favorite, but I'd long ago learned not to feed the jukebox money. It only seemed to have a selection of songs from the 1990s, and most of it was gangsta rap.

You'd think I'd have fond memories of the '90s. It was my early childhood and all. But thinking of my parents just brought up old wounds. They'd been killed by a rogue dragon when I was young, and that was why I did what I did. I didn't want any other little girl to go through what I'd been through.

"Clarke," said a voice.

I looked up to see another slayer there, Juniper Ryan. She was only a few years older than me, and we used to be friends, but she didn't much like the direction I was going in these days, and I was getting increasingly uncomfortable with her choices. She basically only killed rogues too, but she didn't seem to have qualms about killing shifters.

Most slayers didn't kill many shifters, of course. Shifters were harder to nab. They were smart, and didn't go flying around where slayers might hunt them. In some ways, the point was moot, because taking down a shifter was such a rarity. It was the principle of the thing, however.

We'd had it out one night.

She said I was being an idiot, leaving money on the table.

I said she was a murderer.

After that, she wasn't as friendly as she used to be.

"Juniper." I lifted my beer bottle in greeting.

She settled down next to me on a bar stool. "Listen, I wanted to ask you something."

"Yeah?" I was wary.

"Some drakes in a gang from down south? The Drake Cobras?"

"Never heard of them," I said. Drakes were dragon-human hybrids. They were addicted to dragon meat. Most of them got hooked on it when they were humans. It was often dried and powdered and sold in pills. People liked to take the pills because it gave them a magical high. Made them feel invincible. They'd take the pills and do stupid stuff and get themselves killed. Then they'd wake up drakes.

I should know. It happened to my own sister.

Once the transformation was complete, drakes usually had scales and claws, even though they kept their humanoid form. They needed meat to stay alive—didn't have to be dragon meat, though. Any meat would do.

"Well, anyway," said Juniper, "they got in touch with me. They want to work with a couple of slayers. We give them all the dragons we kill exclusively and they pay us bank. It's perfect. No dealing with any other middle men, just cold, hard cash."

"Why you telling me about this?"

"Well, I don't want to be with any of the other guys out there," she said. "Other slayers would probably double-cross me, or steal from me. I can't trust just anyone. I trust you."

"Really?" I arched an eyebrow.

"Well, I mean, you got principles," she said. "Makes you trustworthy."

"You know I can't commit to exclusively giving them corpses," I said.

"Because you're still waiting around while dragon families pick them up?" she said.

"Yes," I said. Penny helped me work it all out. She'd created a website for families of missing dragons to post photos of their loved ones in dragon form. Whenever I found a match, I contacted the family of the dead dragon. I didn't tend to tell them that I'd killed the dragon, however. Instead I lied, said that I'd found the body. It was better that way for both of us.

"But that's stupid," she said.

"It's the right thing to do."

She sighed. "Come on, Clarke. What about that sister of yours? She's always in trouble. Expensive trouble. You need money to deal with that."

It was true that Gina was a problem. Being a drake was just the tip of the iceberg when it came to her. But she'd been through a lot. We hadn't had easy lives, she and I.

I shrugged. "I manage."

"You want to live in that dump of an apartment for the rest of your life?"

"Look, I can't help you," I said. "Find someone else."

She glared at me. Then she flounced off the barstool. "Thanks for nothing, Clarke."

I winked at her. "Anytime."

Her eyes flashed. "You..." She clenched her hands into fists. "God." And then she turned on her heel and stalked off into the depths of the bar.

I sipped at my beer. Ah. Limey. Fizzy. Perfection.

Time passed.

I finished my beer, and no one else approached me. I was persona non grata in this place these days, not that I'd ever been Miss Popular. The bar happened to be a favorite of drakes as well as slayers—a strange sort of mix. Two drakes sat down at the bar, only leaving a few stools between us. One had green scales starting on his forehead and moving down over his cheeks. His ears were reptilian—nothing more than holes in his skull. The other looked human enough, but when he caught my glance for a second, his eyes were yellow, like a snake's.

I nodded at them both and tried to decide whether I wanted another drink or not.

Then my phone rang.

I dug it out of my pocket and looked at the screen. It was my sister. Geez. I put the phone to my ear. "What is it now, Gina?"

"Clarke, I need you," said my sister's tear-filled voice over the phone.

So, what else was new? "What happened?"

"I tried to get out, to get away from him, but I'm so weak." She started to sob again.

I sat up straight. "What? What happened?"

"He took too much," Gina whispered. "I told him to stop, but he didn't listen. He might be coming after me. I don't know. I think I lost him."

I slapped money on the bar, enough to cover my beer. "A vampire? Were you selling your blood again?"

"Don't lecture me, Clarke," she said. "Just come get me. Please."

I was already up and halfway to the door. "Where are you?"

* * *

When I went after rogues, I was always armed with the slayer's weapon of choice—a bow and arrows. There were a lot of reasons why slayers used them. They were easy to buy. There was no need to acquire a license or prove that one had never been arrested for a crime. An arrow caused less damage to the dragon's body than a bullet, and most slayers wanted as much of the body intact and sellable as possible.

But bringing a bow and arrow to fight with a vampire didn't make a lick of sense. Vampires could only be killed two ways—decapitation or fire. You could shoot a vampire full of arrows, and it wouldn't make any difference.

Vampires became vampires by dying with dragon blood in their system. They only stayed alive afterward by drinking blood (any blood, didn't have to be dragon blood). But that was because they were technically dead. It was only magic that kept them alive. However, the blood of humans and animals didn't give the vampires any usable magic. If they wanted to be able to do nifty tricks like compel people to do their bidding or move objects with their minds, they needed magic blood. Dragon blood was the best, but if they couldn't find dragon blood, drake blood worked nearly as well.

My stupid sister could never hold down a proper job, and so she was always doing stuff like selling her blood to vampires for money. It was dangerous as hell. In the minds of lots of people, it made her little better than a prostitute. Of course, I didn't think so. She was my sister. But I didn't approve either.

This was not the first time this had happened.

I tried to help her, but my sister wouldn't stop—couldn't stop—because she was addicted to dragon meat. They called the stuff dice on the street (short for slice and dice) and every bit of money that crossed Gina's hands eventually went to getting more dice.

She used to live with me long term, but she kept taking my stuff and selling it for dice, and I ended up having to kick her out.

Still, she was my sister, and I couldn't let her get hurt or starve or... or die.

Damn it.

When she called me, I always came. And if it was really bad, I always let her crash with me. When we were younger, I had failed to protect her once, and she had never been the same, and I didn't know if there was any way she could be healed. Deep inside, she was so broken.

Anyway, I wasn't standing outside the place where Gina was with a bow and arrows. Instead, I had a big, wicked knife. The blade was over two feet long, and it was curved. It was very, very sharp. I wasn't as good with it as I was with my bow, but I could take a vampire on if I had to.

I had a talisman around my neck, just something simple. Having a bit of magic on me meant that I was impervious to compulsion. Compulsion only worked on someone with no magic at all.

That meant I only had to contend with the telekinesis. Because this vamp would be all hyped up on my sister's blood, practically leaking magic.

Not that I was worried.

Worrying about a fight only made me sloppy. I found that it was a mind over matter sort of thing. Being confident meant that I stood a far better chance. Maybe it wasn't true for other people, but it was for me. The right mindset was critical.

So, even if it might have been quite rational to be worried, I squelched that feeling, buried it under layers of bravado. And when it wiggled its way to the surface, I shut it down with a vengeance.

I entered the building where Gina was. It was an apartment building in the crappy part of town, and the apartments weren't in great shape either. The building itself looked as if it might have been built in the 1920s. The molding on the ceiling had a definite Art Noveau feel. The flourishes were covered in peeling paint and light overhead in the foyer was buzzing and flickering, so the place had seen its better days.

To my left and my right were two doors, each with numbers on them, (one and two respectively) each shut tight. Against one wall, a staircase ascended to the second floor. I started to climb.

I found Gina on the second floor landing, hugging her knees to her chest, still crying.

I knelt down next to her. "Hey."

She looked up. "Clarke?" Her face lit up in relief.

"What are you thinking, sitting right here in the open when you know he might be coming after you?" I said.

She pointed up the steps.

I let my gaze follow her finger, and I saw a splash of red on one of the steps above us.

"I cut him," said Gina. "I tried to get his head, but I'm so weak."

I straightened, raising my knife, and I started to creep up the steps. "He's up here?"

She didn't answer.

But it didn't matter, because as I turned the corner, I saw more blood, spilling down the steps. And there was a man, face down on the third floor landing, one arm dangling out over the steps.

He wasn't moving.

Well, that didn't mean anything. Maybe Clarke had stunned him, or maybe he was so high on drinking her blood that he was just lying there, enjoying it, and he didn't care that he was bleeding.

I wasn't going to take any chances. I lifted the knife above my head with both hands, planning to bring it down on his neck, just like chopping wood.

And it felt as if an iron band had closed around my neck.

I choked.

The vampire rolled over, laughing. He gestured with one hand, and the band around my neck tightened. He was using magic to strangle me.

I didn't have any magic of my own. The talisman around my neck was only for protection. I didn't know how to use it for anything else.

Without air, everything seemed to slow down. The knife I was carrying felt very heavy. My eyes seemed to be bulging, as if the lack of breath was making my skull expand.

The vampire sat up, grinning at me. "I heard her call you. She was tasty, but I'm still thirsty. I thought that a nice little nightcap might be in order."

It was illegal for vampires to drink blood from people, but that was hardly enforced. The police weren't equipped to deal with vampires.

My vision was starting to swim. My chest hurt. My lungs were screaming for air. I tried to lift the knife. Nothing happened.

"I don't want to kill you, sweetheart," said the vampire. "I like the blood pumping from the heart. Just go to sleep."

I tried to lift the knife again. It moved an inch.

The vampire didn't seem to notice. "Should I drink from your neck? Your wrist? Which vein should I tap, hmm? Got a preference?" He giggled. "Oops, I forgot you can't talk."

I summoned all my strength, focusing on the knife. I brought it up all at once, and slashed at the vampire. My aim wasn't great. I caught his cheek, making a shallow cut below his cheekbone.

He winced, backing up, hand going up to the cut. And it startled him, so he lost control of his magic.

I could breathe. I gasped noisily, drawing as much air into my lungs as I could. There was no time to lose. I couldn't sit here and catch my breath.

He was angry now, and he want to hurt me even more than he'd wanted it before.

I thrust the knife at the vamp, burying it inches in the soft skin of his belly.

He shrieked. He threw out his hand and with it, his magic.

I was picked up and flung backwards, down the steps. I tumbled over and over myself twice, before coming to a stop on the second floor landing. I still had the knife in my hand, but all the tumbling meant that I'd cut myself. I was bleeding from my thigh, and there was a cut in my jeans as well.

The vampire hissed. "Your blood smells delicious." He clambered down the steps toward me.

I pushed up to my feet, picking up the knife.

He was there, fangs out, reaching for me—

I thrust the blade into his chest.

He let out a sickly grunt.

I pulled the knife from the wound as quick as I could.

The vampire reached out with one hand.

No, no, I thought. You can't be allowed to use your damned magic. I swung the knife and connected. The blade sliced through his neck cleanly.

He made an expression of confusion, of concern. And then his head toppled off his body.

Damn it. Now, I was going to have to clean this up.

CHAPTER THREE

"I can't be going around killing vampires all the time," I was saying to my sister. We were back at my apartment some time later. "You know that if he had ties to any of the gangs around here, and they find out what I did, they'll be out for my blood." Literally. They'd drain me dry and kill me.

Gina was munching on her second hamburger. She was weak, and she needed meat to feel better. "You dumped the body. No one's going to find it."

"I hope not," I said.

She set down her burger. "Hey, thanks, Clarke. I think he was going to kill me."

I rubbed my forehead.

"Really, I don't know what I'd do without you."

I sat down next to her. "I get that you're grateful, Gina, but this is the kind of thing that can't go on. You need to stop selling your blood to vampires."

"I know." She started eating again.

"But you'll do it again, anyway, won't you?"

"I don't want to," she said. "I just run out of money so fast. Even when I hold down a job for a while, the money just... goes."

"It doesn't go. You spend it," I said.

She set down the burger and picked at the bun. "I know."

"On dice," I said.

She took the bun off the burger completely and shoved the patty in her mouth. She chewed.

"Damn it, Gina," I said. I got up off the couch and crossed into my kitchen, which was really just a corner of the living room with a sink and a stove and refrigerator and barely any counter space. I opened the refrigerator and got out a Corona. "What am I supposed to do, huh?"

"I want to get clean," she said. "I do. But it's hard."

I popped the top off the beer. I felt a stab of sympathy for her. I knew that the dice addiction was not easy to kick. I'd tried to help her go cold turkey before. She'd gotten so pale. Her lips had lost all color. And then she'd gotten this fever. It raged in her body, burning her up from the inside. It had terrified me. And after all that, she'd sneaked out while I was sleeping and gotten more dice anyway.

"Look," she said, "I was thinking that maybe it's because I try to get clean on my own. Maybe if I went somewhere—"

"The hospital?" I said.

"No, not the hospital. They treat drakes like hell there," she said. It was true. Most humans trained in medicine knew nothing about drake physiology. There wasn't much reason to, considering drakes didn't age or get sick, and they tended to heal quickly from wounds.

"Where else?"

"There's a place I keep hearing about," she said. "It's a rehabilitation facility for magical creatures. They opened to help out dragon youth with problems with heroin and cocaine, but they've recently branched out into dice addiction. It's a really nice place."

"They used to cater to dragons?" I said. "How much does that place cost?"

"Well, I know it's not cheap," she said. "Just forget about it. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up."

I took a long swig of beer. I yanked my phone out of my pocket and pulled up my browser. "What's the name of this place again?"

"Magnolia Center."

I looked it up and was on the website in seconds. It did look nice. Looked like a paradise. I checked the rates. Geez.

And then I looked up at my sister and thought about Naelen Spencer standing in my living room, begging me to name my price. Sure, his mission was incredibly stupid. And sure, his sister was never going to be cured. But maybe he was right. Maybe it wasn't my business what he did once he captured the dragon. Maybe I was being an idiot.

I put the phone back in my pocket. "You're going."

"What?" said Gina.

"You want to go to that facility, right? Well, I'm going to make it happen."

"How?" she said.

"Don't worry about that," I said. I pointed at her. "You have one thing to worry about now, and one thing only. And that's getting better."

* * *

I had Gina sleep in my bedroom, and I took the couch in the living room, because I wasn't chancing her running out on me and going off to get high again. If she got up, I'd hear her, and I'd stop her.

But she didn't get up. Slept soundly all night, and into the late morning, which was when I typically woke up.

At 10:30, when I got up and moving, I checked the bedroom, and she was still there. I threw on the clothes I'd been wearing the night before. Yawning and stretching, I made my way out into the kitchen and measured out some coffee into my little one-pot brewer.

I put in the water and turned it on.

After I had my coffee, I was going to figure out how the heck I would make this work.

I realized that I didn't even know how to get in touch with Naelen. If I called his office, I thought the chance of his secretary actually putting me in touch with him was slim to none. I didn't have a personal number for him. I didn't have any idea what the heck I should be doing.

But I couldn't think that through without caffeine. I gazed at the coffee pot, watching the brown liquid drip down into the pot at a maddeningly slow pace. Faster, I thought at it.

Luckily, I hadn't overdone it on the Coronas last night, not that I usually did. I drank a little beer now and then, but I didn't tend to get much more than buzzed. I was happy to keep it under three beers a night. I didn't like the way it felt when I was very drunk. It made me vulnerable. I couldn't fight if I was trashed. I didn't have a lot of enemies, exactly, but I wasn't universally liked either. I needed to stay sharp.

The pot was halfway full.

Come on, come on, I thought. The scent of coffee had filled my entire apartment, and it was heavenly. I loved the smell of coffee. I wasn't much for froufrou girly stuff like air fresheners or room sprays or things like that. But if I could find a coffee-scented one, I might very well use it all the time.

Actually, I wondered if they did make something like that. I snagged my phone off the kitchen counter, ready to look it up.

When there was a knock at the door.

Seriously? Who could that be?

I opened the door.

It was Naelen Spencer.

Well, I had to admit that was convenient. He looked the same as he did yesterday. Different suit—this one was navy blue and he was wearing a bright yellow tie with a baby blue dress shirt—and the colors brought out his eyes even more.

I peered into their mesmerizing depths for a moment. "Hi," I said, and I think I might have actually smiled at him.

He pushed past me into the apartment and began pacing in my living room. "All right, I know you said you weren't interested yesterday, but I simply can't accept that. I've been stewing over this all night, and I think there's got to be some way we can come to a compromise. Maybe if I put a timeframe on the amount of time I keep Reign locked up. If I say that I have, oh, I don't know, five years to find the cure, and that if I haven't by then, you must come and... and end her suffering. Perhaps that would appease you. Perhaps—"

"Shh." I put my finger to my lips. "Not so loud. My sister's sleeping."

He furrowed his brow and looked around the apartment. "Your sister lives here too? Both of you in this place?"

"She's just crashing," I said, glaring at him. "And what's wrong with this place?"

He cleared his throat. "Nothing. Obviously nothing. It's... quite, er..."

"Never mind that," I said. "I realize I don't live the way you do. Likely, you have three homes, all huge enough to house an entire baseball team."

"Four houses, actually," he said. "One for each season."

"Seriously?"

He looked embarrassed. "That's not important."

I folded my arms over my chest. "You did rush to correct me there."

"Well, I've worked hard to achieve my success," he said. "I suppose I'm a bit proud of myself."

"Worked hard? You were born with a silver spoon in your mouth."

"I built Spencertech from the ground up," he said. "It's my company. I own it."

"With a nice cash infusion from your daddy to get it up and running, I'm sure."

"No, I don't take a thing from them," he said, and suddenly he was fierce. "I did it on my own. I don't want their money." He was so serious about it that I couldn't help but believe him.

"Oh," I said. "I'm sorry. I supposed I shouldn't have assumed—"

"You, Miss Gannon, have quite the knack for making my blood boil." He shook himself, nostrils flaring. "I don't know if I've ever met anyone who makes me as angry as you do."

"And yet you still want me to work for you?"

"Naturally, I do. You're the best. I will have the best. Only the best. Tell me that you'll reconsider, or I will be back to pester you every day, twice a day, until you say yes."

"The payment?" I said. "That offer of two years' rent still floating around?"

"Make it three years'," he said.

My eyes widened. I wondered if I should haggle, try to get him up even higher. The man clearly had no regard for spending ridiculous sums of money. But that offer was more than generous. It would be enough for me to put Gina in rehab and to live comfortably for a while as well. I'd take that.

Besides, I was going to feel guilty enough taking all this money for locking up a dangerous rogue and putting so many lives in danger. If that rogue, formerly his sister, killed anyone, I didn't know if I'd ever forgive myself, and the cash would be little solace in that case.

"If you feel you need something more—"

"No," I said. "That offer is acceptable. I will work for you."

He took a step back. "You will?"

I nodded.

He rubbed his hands together. "Well, that's excellent. I'm quite pleased."

"Sure," I shrugged at him. "Uh, I'm wondering if I could get a little bit of my salary as an advance?"

* * *

Gina sat down gingerly on her bed in the Magnolia Center. The bedspread was pure white, and Gina ran tentative fingers over it. "It's so clean. I don't want to get things dirty."

"Get things as dirty as you want," I said. "This place costs enough. They can afford to do an obscene amount of laundry."

Everything in the place was white, in fact. The floors, the ceilings, the walls. All the pictures on the walls were in white frames, and they were all pictures of things like snow on trees, or frozen ponds, or dandelion fluff in the breeze. White everywhere. Even the people who worked here wore white. It was giving me a bit of a headache.

Gina looked up at me. "I still don't know how you afforded this place."

"I told you," I said. "I'm taking a job. A really well-paying job."

"But what kind of job?" she said.

"It's to do with dragons," I said.

"You don't ever take much money for killing dragons, though," said Gina. "I don't want you to make exceptions for me. You'll resent me, and—"

"I already resent you, sis," I said, giving her a lopsided grin.

She rolled her eyes at me.

"Seriously, I'm not doing anything that would make anyone lose sleep. It's on the up and up. It's fine. You need this. Hell, we need this. You and I haven't caught one single damned break our whole lives."

She fingered the white bedspread. "No, I guess we haven't."

"So, you settle in here," I said. "You get better."

She nodded. "Thanks, Clarke."

"Hey," I said, "you know I'm doing this for me, so that I don't have to keep bailing you out of trouble." I grinned at her again. "This is totally selfishly motivated."

She laughed. "Of course."

But then we both gazed at each other and our smiles started to waver, and we both knew, without having to say it, that there was nothing we wouldn't do for each other if push came to shove. We were family.

She stood up from the bed.

I crossed to her.

We hugged.

She clung to me, and I held onto her, and tears sprang to my eyes.

"You take care of yourself," I whispered.

"You too," she said.

And then I left her, because I was afraid if I stayed any longer, I'd start bawling, and I didn't want to lose it like that.

Wiping my eyes, I made my way down the hallway, all the way to the front of the building, where a woman in the uniform here—white dress and white scarf on her head—stopped me. "Excuse me," she said. "Do you have a pass to leave?"

"Uh, I'm not a patient," I said.

She looked me up and down. "Oh," she said.

"I was just dropping off my sister," I said.

"I see," she said. "And your name is?"

"Clarke Gannon," I said. "My sister's name is Gina. She was just admitted today."

"Let me look into that," said the woman. She ducked inside a small room by the gate and typed on a console. "Yes, I see Gina here. And you as the billing contact. Although the balance has been paid in full." She eyed me again.

"What?" I said.

"Nothing," she said. "This is a very wonderful thing you're doing for your sister."

I let out a breath. "Yeah, well... she needs help."

The woman smiled at me. "Do you have any identification...?"

I narrowed my eyes at her, but I dug out my ID and showed it to her.

She smiled. "Thank you. You can go on out, then."

I started to head for the gate, but then I stopped. "Uh, I can come back to visit her?"

"Not right away," said the woman. "We like the patients to be immersed in the culture here for at least a week to begin with. After that, you are welcome to come during visiting hours, which are in the afternoons. But you should be receiving some information in your email. It will answer all your questions."

"Right," I said. "Well, thanks." I started for the gate.

"Bye now," said the woman. "Have a blessed day."

Blessed? Really? Whatever. When I got through the gate, I saw a shiny black car sitting at the curb, idling there. I wouldn't have paid it much mind, but then the back door opened, and Naelen got out.

I gaped at him. "Are you following me?"

He surveyed the place. "So, this is why you wanted the advance?"

"It's for my sister. She needs help, and she wanted to come to this place, so I decided I would do what I needed to do for her."

"I understand," he said, sliding his hands into his pockets. "I care about my sister too."

His sister was dead, though. But I decided it wouldn't be prudent to say that out loud. "You can't follow me around."

"You're an investment now," he said. "I keep an eye on my investments."

I drew back. "I most certainly am nothing of the kind."

"You are, though," he said. "I've hired you to do a job for me, and I want to make sure that you deliver what you promised."

"So, you're stalking me," I said.

"Well, I did wonder when it was exactly that you would get started on trying to track down my sister."

"Wait, track her down?" I said. "I don't track dragons. I react to them."

"We have to find her before we can capture her."

I sighed. "'We,' huh? I guess you want to follow me around while I'm doing this job?"

"Oh, I'll be there at all times," he said. "I don't intend to 'follow you around' however. We'll be working together."

I nodded slowly. "Don't you have things to do? A corporation to run? You know, the one you were bragging about yesterday? The one that you built up from nothing?"

"Actually, Spencertech is doing just fine on its own these days, but thanks for asking. I've been buying things up and expanding my empire and trying to stay busy, but the truth is, it's evolved beyond me. Mostly, these days, I'm bored. So, as you can see, I've got lots of time to look for Reign."

I studied my shoes. "How should I put this?" I pretended to muse over it. "I don't like you, Naelen. You're arrogant and demanding and you represent everything I hate."

"Excuse me?" he said. "I would think, after your sister, you'd be grateful to me."

"Well, you'd be wrong. Here's the thing. I don't think you really like me either."

"Of course I like you, Miss Gannon."

"How about you call me Clarke?"

"All right." He smiled. "Seems to me things are going even better for us, aren't they? Now, we're on a first name basis?"

"You don't like me. You don't like people like me. I'm sure you hate slayers. In fact, I looked you up, and you regularly give money to the Stop Slayers Strikeforce Initiative, which aims to create a trained wing of the FBI to hunt down slayers and lock them up."

"That's because slayers kill my kind," he said.

I shrugged. "Well, there you go. You don't like me."

"You're different."

"I wouldn't kill a shifter," I said. "It's true. I think it's murder. But I'm still a slayer. I work the wrong side of the tracks, and I associate with criminals and riffraff, and I don't think my methods and your methods are really going to... mesh."

"Too bad," he said. "We'll have to find a way. Because we're working together, and that's the end of that."

"You're used to getting your way, aren't you?"

He smiled, flashing me a bright row of perfect teeth. "I always get my way."

I grimaced. "Maybe not this time."

"Oh, don't be silly, Clarke," he said. "What are you going to do? Walk away? Give me back my money? You need the money. You need the job. You need me. You have to do things my way. It might be hard for you to swallow that, but I suggest you chew a bit harder and use a glass of water to get it down your throat, because I'm not going anywhere."

My whole face twitched. I could feel that my cheeks were heating up, not from embarrassment, but from annoyance. The hell of it was that he was right. I might not want to work with him, but I didn't have a choice in the matter.

He smiled wider, gesturing to his car. "Won't you get in?"

I drew in a shaky breath. I would have loved to tell him to shove it. I would have loved to walk away, throw his money in his face. Let him deal with that. He couldn't control me simply because I was broke and desperate. Except that wasn't true. He actually could control me. I hated that he had so much money, because it meant he had power over me. That made me feel itchy. But life was a bitch, so I had to do as he said and try to swallow it. I squared my shoulders. I let out my breath. And I climbed into his stupid car.

CHAPTER FOUR

"All right," said Naelen, "so where do we start?" He buckled his seatbelt.

I buckled mine too. "Well, I have no idea. The way that I usually work is that I listen to the police scanners for news of dragon attacks. Then I go there, take care of the rogue."

"I never hear about dragon attacks on the news," he said.

"I thought you talked to Penny Caspian," I said. "Someone's covering them up. She thinks its Eaglelinx."

"Oh, yes, I do remember something about that." He nodded. "Well, anyway, that's not going to work. Because it's far too passive. We need to do something to find Reign. How do we do that?"

"I don't know," I said.

"You don't know?"

"No, I have no experience with this," I said. "You hired me to shoot your special tranquilizing arrows, remember? I'm not a private detective."

He furrowed his brow. "Ah. Well, I suppose that's one way to go about it, then. Let's behave as if we were detectives."

"What would we do then?"

"Well... I don't really know. Don't you?"

"Do I look like a detective?"

He let out a breath, clearly starting to get a bit perturbed.

"You're the one who said we had to work together," I said.

"And a good thing too," he said. "You're proving to be next to worthless. I could be doing this all on my own for the amount of help you're providing."

"I don't know what you want me to do."

"Yes, that's the problem exactly," he said. "You're not doing anything."

I sighed. "Look, when did you see her last?"

"Oh," he said, considering. "I suppose going over that makes sense."

"Seriously? Are you an idiot?"

"I assure you I am not," he said. "I am quite intelligent. I got very high marks at Harvard Business."

I rolled my eyes. "No common sense, though, am I right?"

"That's highly offensive, you know."

"Oh, I'm sorry," I said in a voice that made it clear I wasn't the least bit sorry. "Not all of us had trust funds. Not all of us could go to college. Or even finish high school." I gritted my teeth. I was going to murder Naelen Spencer before all this was over, and then his estate would probably demand the money he'd given me back. Even if they didn't, I'd need it to pay for defense lawyers.

"Really?" he said in a different voice. "You were unable to finish high school? What happened?"

"My sister turned into a drake," I said. "I couldn't just let her..." I ran my hand through my hair. "You know what? Never mind. Let's get back to your sister. Where was the last place you saw her?"

He was giving me a concerned looked, and his expression bordered on pity for me.

I couldn't handle that. "Stop it," I said. "Do not feel sorry for me. I am fine. Fine. I can take care of myself. If my sister went missing, I wouldn't need to hire someone to get her back."

The concerned look faded immediately, replaced with a pinched expression. "I saw her at a family dinner several months ago."

"She's been gone for several months?"

"No, only two weeks or so," he said. "But that was the last time I saw her."

"Well, when was the last time anyone saw her?"

"How could I know that?" he said. "I hadn't seen her in months."

"How do you even know she's missing?"

"Well, about a week ago, I tried to call her, and she never called me back, and then I went by her place, and no one was there. And I checked out her social media sites, which she uses rather heavily, and I found that she hadn't posted anything in two weeks. So, I assume she's been missing for that long. Listen, something you might not understand, considering that you're not a dragon, is that when one of our loved ones goes off the face of the earth, we immediately assume that they've been killed by a slayer. Cut up and turned into talismans to be sold on the black market."

I pressed my lips together. I did think that the way dragons were hunted was awful.

"But then I spoke to Penny Caspian, and she told me that it was actually very rare for a shifter to be killed by a slayer, because most slayers had their hands full with rogues. And then—the idea that my sister could be a rogue—still alive, well, I had hope again."

He shouldn't have hope, though, that was the problem. If Reign was a rogue, she was gone.

"Look, Penny has some crazy theory about candy," I said.

"No, I heard about it. Apparently, the product that Eaglelinx makes, the eagleclaw, is supposed to occasionally set off a shift in a dragon."

Dragons could only shift in water. If they didn't, the weight of the shift was too much for their human bodies. The bodies were destroyed. Anyone who shifted into a dragon out of water could never shift back, because their human form was dead. They became rogues.

"And they do make those drinks with them," I said. "Claw Rushes. Pretty popular in certain kinds of bars these days. So, if Reign had one of them, maybe she did shift. We need to find that out."

"You mean, look at her credit card receipts and see if there's a line-by-line charge for a drink like that?"

"Well, maybe," I said. "Or we could just talk to her friends."

"Oh," he said. "Yeah, I suppose we could do that."

Seriously. No common sense.

* * *

Winter West's eyes got big when she saw my bow slung over my shoulder. "Um, hi?"

"I told you to leave it in the car," said Naelen.

"And I told you to shove it up your ass," I said, giving him a sugary sweet smile. I turned back to Winter. "You're Reign Spencer's best friend?"

"I don't know about best friend," said Winter. "We're pretty tight, I guess. Or at least we were, back in high school. These days, we're kind of hanging with different crowds?"

I glared at Naelen. "You said this was her best friend."

"Sorry," said Naelen. "You know, I've been busy the past few years. I haven't had a chance to look into everything that Reign's been up to."

"Why are you asking this?" said Winter.

"Because she's missing," I said.

"She is?" Winter's eyes got even bigger, something I hadn't thought possible.

I clenched my hands into fists. "This is a waste of time. Let's go stalk her Facebook. Maybe we'll find someone to talk to there."

"I can talk to you," said Winter. "It's not like Reign and I hated each other. We were friendly." She sounded annoyed. "Who the heck are you anyway?"

"I hired her to get Reign back," said Naelen. "I think Reign may be trapped in dragon form."

"Oh," said Winter. "Whoa."

"Did you happen to see Reign drink a Claw Rush?" I said.

"Eew, no," said Winter. "Claw Rushes are so three months ago. No one drinks them anymore."

"Really?" I said.

Winter nodded. "Trust me, Reign wouldn't be caught dead with one in her hands."

"Are you sure of that?" said Naelen.

"God, how many times do I have to say it?" said Winter. "No freaking way would she let something like that cross her lips. No way."

"All right," I said. "Well, maybe if she was somewhere and she didn't have an option."

"Like where?"

"I don't know," I said, feeling annoyed. "Maybe a party where the host was only making Claw Rushes."

"Eew," said Winter. "If I was at that party, I would leave."

"Okay," I said, sighing. "You know what, thanks and all, but I don't think you're going to be much help."

Winter put her hands on her hips. "Why are you like obsessed with Reign drinking Claw Rushes?"

"That's not important," I sighed. "Just... it's probably a good thing that you wouldn't be caught dead drinking one. And tell your friends not to drink them either. They are not good for dragons."

She looked me over. "What do you care?"

"I care, okay?" I said.

"If you don't spend time with Reign much anymore, do you know who might?" said Naelen. "Who is her best friend?"

Winter shrugged. "I don't know if she has one. But she does spend a lot of time with Wilder."

"Wilder?" I said.

"Wilder Bradley?" said Naelen. "Of the Pennsylvania Bradleys?"

"Yeah," said Winter. "That's him."

"Is he her boyfriend?" I said.

"Not really," said Winter. "I mean, we're way too young for labels like that."

"Right," I said. "Well, thank you for your time."

* * *

"Well, I don't know if this Wilder guy is worth talking to or not," I said, getting back in the car with Naelen.

"He definitely is," said Naelen.

"But he's not even her boyfriend?"

"That's typical," he said. "Why would she bother with a boyfriend? Why get attached when the mating bond is waiting around the next corner to sink its claws into your spine?"

"Oh," I said. "Yeah, I guess I forgot about that." Dragons supposedly had destined mates. They would see their mate and be utterly bonded to that person for life. Love at first sight or something crazy. "That's a real thing? I thought it was just more dragon bullshit."

"It's a real thing," said Naelen, inspecting his fingernails.

"You don't sound enthused at the prospect."

"I don't have any need for a mate," he said. "And I like to think that even if I felt that bond, I could be strong enough not to let it rule me entirely."

"Oh," I said. "Sure."

He laughed.

"What?" I said.

"Nothing," he said. "It's only that you don't know anything about the mating bond, so of course you think I could resist it. Most dragons don't. They laugh at me when I say I won't be mated. But I'm determined."

"Okay," I said, shrugging. I didn't care one way or another.

"Sorry," he said. "I suppose that's more information than you care to know about me."

I smiled. "You said it, not me."

He made the pinched face again. "Listen, we should talk to Wilder. He might know if she had a Claw Rush."

"Maybe she didn't," I said. "Have you thought of that?"

"Of course." He drew in a slow breath. "But then, I expect she is dead. On a butcher block somewhere, drained of blood." He flinched.

"Or... maybe she just ran away," I said.

He turned to me sharply. "What?"

"Don't dragons ever run away?"

"She didn't run away," said Naelen. "My sister would never run away."

I shrugged again. "Okay."

"She wouldn't," he insisted.

"Like I said, okay. Where would we find this Wilder guy?"

"You can't bring your bow this time," said Naelen.

I considered. Maybe it was unlikely we'd find Reign in rogue form with Wilder. "Okay," I said.

"Good," he said.

"But I don't want to hear it if she shows up and kills us both, and I have no way to protect us."

"Well," said Naelen, "should that occur, we'll both be dead, and you won't be hearing anything."

CHAPTER FIVE

"No, we broke it off," said Wilder Bradley, resting in the center of a huge, plush couch in front of a widescreen TV. Some video game was paused and Wilder fiddled with the controller.

"From what I understand, you weren't even dating," I said.

"Dating?" said Wilder. "What? Like going on dates? Who does that?"

I rolled my eyes. "You weren't in a relationship with Reign. At least not according to Winter West."

"Well, we weren't official or anything," said Wilder, "but we were a thing. Everybody knew we were a thing. She was my girl."

Naelen eyed Wilder. "So, where is she, then?"

"Like I said, we broke it off."

"When?" I said.

"I don't know. Maybe three weeks ago," he said.

"And you haven't seen her?" I said.

"I've seen her out a few times," said Wilder. "Bars. Parties. Places. And it's not like we hate each other. We say hi. We're polite. I don't hold anything against her." His face twisted, and for a second, I thought he was going to cry.

"What do you mean by that?" I said.

"Look, why are you here?" said Wilder.

"Reign's missing," said Naelen.

"Seriously?" Wilder sat up straight, dropping the controller. "Man, I knew that dude was bad news."

"What dude?" said Naelen.

"Okay, well, I didn't want to say anything, because she's your sister and all, and I didn't want to say anything against her, but it's not like we really broke it off, not exactly. I mean, I'm not upset about it or anything. I don't care. She can do what she wants. Plenty of other fish in the sea and all that. And I'm fine. I got mad skills with women. I got ladies lining up around the block to hang with me, you know? So, whatever she wants to do—"

"What are you going on about?" said Naelen, and his voice had gone gravelly and threatening.

Wilder swallowed. "Uh... well, she started making time with this other guy is all. And she didn't even tell me. I just show up somewhere, and he's got his hands all over her ass and—" Wilder broke off when Naelen's eyes flashed. "Sorry, man," said Wilder. "I mean, before that, I really liked her. I thought she was a nice girl. I mean, I guess she still is—"

"Never mind that," said Naelen. "Who is this guy she was with?"

"Uh..." Wilder rubbed his face. "Like his name?"

"Yes, his name," I said.

"I think it started with a J. Like Jason or Joey or..." Wilder shook his head. "Man, I'm so over that shit with her, that I can't even remember that guy's name."

I glared at him. "Bullshit, Wilder."

Wilder looked away. "Fine," he told the controller in a sulky voice. "Joel fucking Stewart, okay. That's his name. And it's a gay name, if you ask me. A fucking fairy name. And I think he was even wearing eyeliner. And why Reign would want to be with a douchebag like that instead of me—"

"Thank you, Wilder," I interrupted.

He glanced up at me, and I could see that he was embarrassed at his outburst. "Yeah, you're welcome. Uh, like I said, I don't much care what she does."

"That's obvious," I said dryly.

* * *

"Joel Stewart?" I said. "You know who that is?" We were back in Naelen's car.

"Sort of. I know the Stewart family," he said.

"You dragons all know each other, huh?"

"Well, there is a definite social circle that most of us travel in, I suppose," he said. "But I don't spend a lot of time with other dragons, really, unless it's for work. Still, you can't help but pick certain things up."

"All right," I said, "so you have any idea where we can find this Joel?"

"I think his family has a suite at the Grand," said Naelen. "We can check there."

"Cool," I said. "Want to tell your driver that?"

He shot me a bemused look. "Ready to get moving, hmm?"

"Well, it's not that I don't find your company delightful, but..."

His expression changed, and he leaned up between the seats to have a low-voiced conversation with the driver. When he sat back against the seat, he turned to me. "You know, I don't think it's fair of you to be so hostile towards me."

I licked my lips. "What?"

"I understand that you're bitter about your past, and it sounds as if you've had a rough time of it, so that all makes sense to me. But blaming me for being fortunate does nothing to ease your misfortune. Especially considering I'm a person who could help you, but if you keep being so rude, I won't be very inclined to."

I turned away from him. "I don't need your help."

He sighed.

The car started forward.

It was quiet.

"I don't know what Reign was doing with that Wilder boy," he muttered suddenly.

I turned back to look at him. "You didn't like him?"

He made a face as if he smelled something bad. "No wonder Reign moved on. I can't say I blame her. He was so... whiny."

I laughed a little. "Yeah, he was in a permanent sulk, right?"

"Sore loser," said Naelen.

"You think this Joel guy is much better?"

"Guess we'll see."

* * *

But Joel Stewart wasn't in the suite at the Grand that his family owned.

We got the doorman to talk to us after Naelen slipped him a fifty. "Sure," said the doorman, "he was here a few weeks ago, but he hasn't been back. He comes and goes."

"Did you ever see a girl with him?" asked Naelen.

"Sure. Lots of girls. Lots of different girls."

Naelen's lip curled.

Welp, guess this Joel guy wasn't better than Wilder.

Naelen took his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through it until he found a picture of Reign.

I hadn't seen her before, and she was actually a very pretty girl. She and her brother had the same blue eyes. In the picture, she was all dressed up and beaming at the camera as if it were the best day of her life. In spite of myself, I found myself instantly liking her. Sure, she was rich and entitled, a spoiled dragon, but something about the expression on her face was infectious. She was so happy that it made me want to be happy too. Any one who could be so happy couldn't be that bad.

The doorman squinted at it. "Uh... maybe. I think so, yeah."

"You think so or you're sure?" said Naelen.

"Sorry," said the doorman.

Naelen opened his wallet to get more money.

But the doorman waved him off. "That's not going to help me remember. I mean, I'll take it, but I simply can't be sure."

Naelen sighed, putting his wallet away. "Well, thanks anyway."

"Sure thing," said the doorman.

We went out of the hotel to the curb, where the car was waiting. Naelen opened the door and gestured for me to get in.

I thought about telling him that I was capable of opening doors myself, but I figured that only sounded petulant, so I climbed inside and heaved out a sigh.

"What?" said Naelen, getting in next to me.

"Nothing," I said.

"I wonder if Joel's missing too," said Naelen. "Maybe he and Reign are in the same place."

"If you think I'm going to tranquilize two rogues, you're insane."

"No, the deal is only for Reign," he said. "But once I find the cure—"

"There's no cure," I said.

"You don't know that. No one's ever even tried to find one, have they?"

I shook my head. I didn't want to have this argument again. Let him think what he wanted. I would do my job, and then I would wash my hands of all of this. It was his business, not mine.

"Well, what should we do now?" he said.

"I don't know," I said. "Where else could Joel be?"

"I'm really not sure. Maybe at home with his family? But he's probably old enough to have his own place by now. I couldn't be sure exactly where that might be."

"Then I really don't know what to tell you."

"Really? We're at a dead end already?" He rubbed his forehead.

I looked out the window. For some reason, I didn't like disappointing him. "Well, maybe if we knew who his friends were, we might be able to get them to tell us where he is."

"How could we figure that out?"

"I was talking about looking on social media to figure out your sister's friends," I said. "We can try that for Joel."

"Oh," he said. "Well, that sounds good."

"Great," I said. "We'll both look up some promising leads and then tackle that tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"Well, it's getting late," I said.

"Oh," he said, "I suppose it is. Time to call it a day?"

"Yeah," I said.

He sighed. "All right then."

I reached over for the handle to the door, about to get out.

"Where are you going?"

"We're done, aren't we?"

"Let me drive you home," he said.

"You're not actually driving," I said. "Your driver is."

"What's the difference?" he said.

I took my hand off the handle. "All right, fine. Drive me home."

"Good," he said. He leaned forward and spoke to the driver again. The car took off.

We rode in silence for some time.

Then Naelen spoke up. "Do you have dinner plans this evening?"

I turned to look at him. "Seriously?"

"I just thought that if you weren't busy—"

"You don't like me," I said. "I'm everything you hate."

He laughed softly. "You keep saying that, Clarke, but I assure you, nothing could be further from the truth."

My heart suddenly started thudding against my rib cage. What was he saying?

"Would you like to have dinner with me?"

"Sorry," I said, out of breath. "I'm busy." I turned away from him and stared out the window for the rest of the trip.

CHAPTER SIX

I scrolled through Joel Stewart's friends on Facebook. I was sitting in Happy Harry's, my second Corona in front of me. It was half-empty and my dinner of boneless wings had just been set down in front of me.

Bar food. Yum.

I set down the phone to attack the wings. Truthfully, I didn't think looking through the friend list was the way to go. I'd need to go through his wall posts, see who he'd been interacting with lately. That person would probably know something. Maybe I could get in touch with them on Facebook, maybe not. I'd look at it later. Right now, I was going to eat.

I cut one of the wings in half with my fork. They weren't really wings, of course. Boneless wings were really more... nuggets. Whatever the case, they were eighty-times easier to eat than their boned counterpart, and I always ordered them instead. I speared the half-wing with my fork, dipped it first in ranch dressing and then in blue cheese and popped it in my mouth.

Mmm. Spicy. Creamy. Salty. Wonderful.

"Hey, Clarke."

I nearly choked. I looked up to see that Logan Gray had pulled up the barstool next to mine. Logan was a gargoyle, and we went way back. We'd been in the same foster home as kids. He and I had basically grown up together. Logan was a dragon slayer too, among other things.

He grinned at me. He had chiseled features—gray skin, like stone that could move. He sported statuesque wings that sprouted from his back. He was moving around because the sun had set. During the daylight hours, all gargoyles turned to stone. "Thought that was you."

"I didn't think you were in town," I said.

"Just got back."

"Righting wrongs and saving damsels?" I said.

He reached onto my plate and picked up one of my wings. "And dudes."

"Hey." I pointed at the stolen wing. "Get your own."

He popped it in his mouth and licked the sauce off his fingers. "Sorry," he said around his mouthful.

"And close your mouth while you're chewing," I said, making a face at him.

He laughed.

I speared the other half of my wing and ate it, shaking my head.

"You're in a bad mood," he said.

"You have wing sauce on your chin," I said.

He wiped at his chin with his palm, completely missing the spot.

I giggled, grabbing a napkin. "Here, let me get it."

He stuck out his chin.

I wiped him off. I could feel the heat of his body through the napkin. He was warm and firm and now I was looking into his eyes and it was making me dizzy and—

I went back to my food. I began cutting all the wings into four equal pieces, but I didn't put any in my mouth. "So, any of the damsels incredibly grateful?"

"You jealous?" he asked.

"No," I said. "Because that stuff between us is all over, and it never worked anyway, because of... of everything." For one thing, Logan was practically my big brother. We obviously weren't related, but we knew all about each other, and there was no point in a relationship when there was nothing to discover. And that wasn't even counting the thing he'd done for me, the thing we didn't talk about, the thing I shouldn't even think about—

"I don't know," he said, his voice a little rumbly. "I'm not sure we ever gave it a proper chance, Clarke."

"Of course we did," I said briskly. I began dipping each tiny fourth of a wing into the two dips I had and then placing each back on my plate. "And that's why I want you to find someone else. I want you to be happy."

He didn't say anything.

I looked up at him.

He was studying his palm.

I started eating wings. Just shoveling them into my mouth, one after the other.

"Look," he said abruptly, "I wish you'd stop with saying you want me to find someone else. You know that I live my life on the road and that what I do doesn't allow me to have those kinds of attachments. Besides, I don't want to be tied down."

"I know that," I muttered. "Like I said, whatever was between us never worked anyway."

Logan was... antsy. Always had to be on the move. He was honorable in his own way. He spent his days hunting down injustices that couldn't be solved by the proper channels because they were too steeped in magic. He made things better. He saved people. But he lived hand to mouth, running credit card schemes and hustling people in card games to make a little bit of money. And he was always on the move.

I couldn't live that way.

And he wasn't willing to give up his lifestyle and stay here with me.

So, it was never going to work.

He grinned at me suggestively. "Certain things worked. Certain things worked fine."

I rolled my eyes. I pushed away the rest of my plate of wings. I'd lost my appetite. "No," I said. "No, forget it."

"I didn't ask a question," he said.

"You didn't have to," I said. "I know what you're up to. You go off gallivanting around, doing what you do, and then you roll back into town, and you expect me to be here waiting for you on my back with my legs spread. Well, it's not happening this time, buddy."

"Clarke," he said. "Don't be like that."

I picked up my beer and downed the rest of it.

"Hey," he said, "you going to eat the rest of that?"

I shoved my half-eaten wings at him.

He wrinkled up his nose. "Did you put blue cheese on all of them?"

"Beggars can't be choosers, Logan."

He shrugged and stuffed a few pieces in his mouth. He chewed.

Get up and walk away from him, I told myself. He's just going to keep talking to you, and you'll keep drinking, and he'll wear you down, and you'll end up taking him home. So, walk away now.

I stayed on the barstool.

"You know it's not like that, anyway." His voice had taken on a soft quality, dark and pleasant, like worn flannel. "You're the love of my life, Clarke."

"And that's why you've abandoned me more times than I can count."

"Hey, I don't mean to. I mean to stick around. But I just... sometimes I get an itch I have to scratch."

"You never even warn me. I know exactly how this will go. I'll take you home, and it'll be... nice—"

"Clarke, what we have is more than nice, and you know it." A low whisper in my ear.

"And then it'll go on that way for a week, maybe two, and then one day, I'll wake up, and you'll be gone. No goodbye. No note. Nothing."

"It won't be like that this time."

"You're right. It won't. Because you're not coming home with me." I got off the barstool. I looked down at it, amazed. Had I really done that?

He stood up too. "Hey, come here." He reached for me.

I tried to back away.

But he was grasping both my hands with his, tugging me close.

Now I could smell him, and he smelled wild and sweet and familiar. My Logan. "Stop," I whispered.

His lips were on my neck, in a little spot just below my jaw, a spot that always drove me crazy. He kissed me there. "I've been dreaming of your skin," he murmured.

"Logan—"

"I've been dreaming of peeling off your clothes inch by inch and covering you in kisses. I want to kiss you everywhere." His voice deepened, thickened with promise.

Something inside me clenched, sending jolts of pleasure through my body. I wanted him. Damn it. I shoved him.

It was like shoving a boulder. He was thick and strong and made of living stone. But the fact that I'd done it shocked him. He let go of me.

I took several steps backward. My voice shook. "I have a job that I'm working right now. It's, uh, it's kind of a big deal."

"A job? What do you mean? Like a certain rogue you're tracking?"

"Yeah," I said. "Kind of. I'm getting paid to do this job, and I can't screw it up. I need..." I took another step back. I hugged myself. "You distract me. I need my head clear."

He looked troubled. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," I said. "But I can't do this." I gestured back and forth between the two of us. "I can't do this again, okay?"

He scratched the back of his neck. "Uh, yeah, okay." He looked down at the plate of wings, but it was empty.

"Okay," I said. I turned around.

"Hey, Clarke, can I at least crash on your couch or something? I got nowhere to stay."

I didn't look at him. "That's not my problem," I said shakily. And I stalked off.

* * *

I was still shaking as I sat waiting for the Sea City night bus on the designated bench. The thing wouldn't be by here for another forty-five minutes, so I had a while to wait. Normally, I wouldn't wait outside. I'd hang out in Happy Harry's until closer to its arrival time. But I knew that if I went back into that place, Logan would get under my skin and find some way to worm his way back into my bed.

Hell, even standing here, I was already half-regretting turning him down.

I didn't have a lot of prospects. I had my self-respect, so I wasn't going to get it on with just anyone. And in my social circle, pickings were fairly slim.

But I knew it was a bad idea to give in to him simply because I wanted a little action between the sheets. I wasn't the kind of girl who could be intimate that way without giving over a piece of my heart. And every time that Logan left me, he chipped away at my heart a little more. I needed to protect myself from that, even if it was hard to resist him.

I used to lie to myself, thinking that maybe this time was the time that things would be different for Logan and me. But he was never different. He wasn't a bad guy. He didn't mean to hurt me. He truly couldn't help it. He had to keep moving. Something within him did spur him on, keeping him from putting down roots. I knew that if he forced himself to stay in one place, he'd be miserable. So, I wasn't even angry with him. I loved him. I knew he couldn't be different. He hadn't had an easy life, either.

Anyway, when push came to shove, I knew he was always there for me in the ways that counted. If I was in trouble, I could always call on him, and he'd be there for me as soon as he could figure a way to get to me.

A vehicle pulled over and stopped next to the bench, but it wasn't the bus.

It was Naelen's car. The back door opened and he got out. "Hi, there, Clarke."

"Stop following me around!" I was aghast.

He laughed. "I wasn't following you, I swear. I was headed home after a few drinks at a club downtown and I saw you sitting here. You need a ride somewhere?"

Now I could smell the faint scent of liquor wafting off of him. A few drinks, huh? I'd wager he was three sheets to the wind. He was even a little unsteady on his feet. He wasn't wearing his tie. His collar was unbuttoned. It all made him look somehow softer. I looked him over—his broad shoulders, his impossibly blue eyes. My body seemed tender in all the wrong places. It was only because I'd barely escaped from Logan, but—

Why had I escaped from Logan? Why had I turned him down? It couldn't be because of Naelen, could it? I found him attractive, that I couldn't deny. And he had asked me out on a date earlier. Sort of.

But I hated Naelen.

And Naelen hated me.

And he was a dragon, for God's sake. I killed dragons. There was no future in that, even if he wasn't destined to become mated to some other dragon.

"Clarke?" said Naelen, grinning at me.

"I'm fine," I said. "I'm just waiting for the bus."

"I don't think that bus is coming by for quite some time. Get in the car."

"I don't need a ride. I want to take the bus. Seriously, you are way too pushy."

"And you're too stubborn."

Oh, maybe he was right. I twisted my fingers together and released them. "Fine," I muttered. "I'd love a ride. Thanks."

His grin widened.

I climbed into the back of the car.

Naelen climbed in after me and told the driver to head to my apartment. He turned to me. "Unless you're not tired. We could go somewhere else."

I felt as if I'd stepped into The Twilight Zone or something. Apparently, it was all-guys-try-to-get-in-Clarke's-pants night. I eyed him. "You're drunk."

He snorted. "Not that drunk."

"Take me home." I buckled my seatbelt and resolved not to speak to him for the rest of the ride home.

"Sorry," he said. "I guess it's not very professional for me to behave this way."

"It most certainly is not," I said.

"Anyway, it's obvious you aren't swayed by any kind of unnamed pressure."

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, you obviously don't have any problem turning me down. Therefore, you can't feel as if there's any coercion on my part—harassment. As if your job depends on responding favorably to my advances."

"You are making advances, then?" Why the hell was he doing that? All things considered, I wasn't exactly in Naelen's league.

He just laughed. "Come back to my place. Have a drink with me."

"No," I said.

"Just a drink. Nothing more. Michael will take you home afterward."

"Michael's the driver?"

"Yes."

"Doesn't he want to be off work, ever?"

"He gets paid a nice overtime rate," said Naelen. "He doesn't mind."

"No," I said again.

"Ever since I met you the other day, when you said no to my face, I haven't been able to stop thinking of you."

"Because I said no to you?" I said. "I guess that doesn't happen very often."

"No, it doesn't," he said. "But that's not why you intrigue me."

"Look, I don't care what you think of me," I said. I shut my eyes again. "I should never have gotten in this car."

"You're different than anyone I've ever met," he said.

"That's probably because the only people you meet are other spoiled, rich snobs."

He chuckled. "It's not about that. You're strong. You're tough. You're..." He cocked his head to one side. "I've never met a woman like you."

Despite my outward bravado, I was shaken by his words. I didn't end up trying to date very often, but when I did, my strength and my toughness were not typically things that guys admired about me. Usually, that made them feel fairly insecure. But Naelen was a picture of security. He was very sure of himself. I could see that nothing I did was going to threaten him, and I felt drawn to that.

I peered into his blue eyes.

He looked back at me, smiling. He seemed so open right now, probably because he was drunk.

Maybe that made him more appealing. He was so buttoned-up most of the time. Now, he seemed loose and approachable. A piece of his hair was falling over his forehead.

I reached up and smoothed it back. But when I touched him, I jerked back, realizing what I was doing.

He snatched my wrist out of the air, stopping me from recoiling all the way. His fingers caressed my knuckles. "But there's softness in you too. You're strong, but when I look into your eyes, there's something vulnerable there—"

I yanked my hand away. "No, there isn't," I said in a quiet voice.

"I like it," he said. "I like you."

"No, you don't," I whispered.

He laughed again softly.

I looked out the window. God, where were we? Would we be getting to my house soon? I hoped so. I could argue with him, I supposed. I could tell him why it would never work between us. We were from different worlds. I couldn't show up on his arm at society events. He couldn't come to Happy Harry's with me and order a Corona. There was nothing here for us.

And I knew myself. I couldn't be happy with less than a real relationship. If I were his dirty little secret, it would rip me apart.

I could explain all that, but I'd rather just get home and run away. He wouldn't have thought it through, not truly. He was just drunk. Hell, he probably wasn't thinking further than getting my clothes off.

Men. So shortsighted.

It was up to me to think through the mess, see the lack of future, and then it fell to me to refuse him. It really wasn't fair.

Luckily, we were close to my house.

I turned to him. "You're saying this because you're drunk."

"No, I'm not," he said.

"You are," I said. "And when we see each other tomorrow, and you're embarrassed, I'll remind you that I already knew that you didn't mean it."

"Why do you insist on making definitive statements about what I'm thinking and feeling? I know what I think. You don't know."

It was easier if we blamed it on his being drunk. There was less to go into. But if he really wanted it that way... I sighed. "It would never work between us."

"You might let me try before you decide that. I know a trick or two that I think you might like."

See? There he was, only thinking of sex. I pressed my lips together.

And the car pulled to a stop in front of my apartment building. I narrowed my eyes. "I don't want you, Naelen. I don't find you attractive. I loathe you." And then I threw open the door to the car and ran away from him as quickly as I possibly could.

CHAPTER SEVEN

I was in the process of drinking my coffee the next morning when there was a knock at the door.

I opened it to find Naelen there, looking buttoned-up and coiffed again. "Good morning," he said brightly.

"Morning," I said. "I'm not ready." I had just gotten out of the shower, which meant that my hair was wet and that I was wrapped in a towel. I felt very... uncovered.

"I see that." His gaze swept my form, lingering on the bare bits. He smiled. "Not that I mind."

"Go away and come back," I said.

"Don't be ridiculous," he said, pushing past me into the apartment. "I just sent Michael to drive around the block. He won't be back for a while. I'll wait here until you're ready."

I glowered at him. "I hate you."

"So we've established. As you said last night, you loathe me."

"Yes," I said. If I could breathe fire, the way he could, he would be singed around the edges.

"That hurt my feelings," said Naelen.

"Oh, it did not." I went into my bedroom and shut the door. What the hell was I going to wear?

"It did," came Naelen's voice. "I was being open with you, and you shut me out. It felt pretty horrible."

I rolled my eyes, snatching up a pair of jeans that I didn't think I'd worn too many times since the last time I did laundry. I fished a shirt out of my hamper. I'd only worn it once or twice too. I really did need to go to the laundry mat. I grimaced. I threw on my clothes as quickly as I could and then opened the door.

He was standing right outside my bedroom.

"If you think I'm going to apologize, you're wrong," I said.

He nodded. "All right, then."

I stopped to look at myself in the mirror in the hallway. My hair was still wet and straggly. I looked like a drowned rat. I ran my fingers through it, making a face. Oh, what the hell? I didn't care what Naelen thought of the way I looked. Really. I didn't.

He cleared his throat. "If you think that being horrible to me is going to make me hate you, then you're wrong."

I glanced at him. "I'm not being horrible."

He just laughed.

I surveyed him for a moment, and then I shook it off. Forget it. I went and got my cell phone. I still had Joel's Facebook up. "So," I said. "I think that Joel's closest friend is a guy named Booker, at least judging from his Facebook."

"Booker Hill?" said Naelen.

"You know him?" I said.

"Actually, yes. He went to school with Reign."

"Well, great," I said. "You know how to get in touch with him?"

"I think he's in town," said Naelen.

* * *

"Oh, Joel's back in Jersey," said Booker, who was lounging by the pool at his family's beach house wearing sunglasses.

"You sure of that?" said Naelen. "You've talked to him lately?"

"Yeah, totally," said Booker. "I talk to him all the time. We're tight."

"So, he's not missing or anything?" said Naelen.

"He's been posting on Facebook," I said. "He's not missing."

"Oh, right," said Naelen. "Of course."

"Why are you asking about Joel?" said Booker.

"We're actually trying to find Reign," said Naelen. "She is missing."

"No way." Booker took off his sunglasses. "What the heck is up with that?"

"We're not sure," said Naelen.

"Well, I still don't get it. What's Joel got to do with that?"

"Uh," I said, "we were told that Joel and Reign were together."

Booker snorted. "No way."

"No?" said Naelen.

"Me and Joel, we're free agents. We're not looking to get tied down, if you know what I mean? There's no way. Now, I guess I'm not saying it's out of the realm of possibility that they might have hooked up once or twice, but I doubt he's got any idea where she is."

Naelen got his pinched expression on his face.

Booker seemed to realize what he said. "I mean, nothing against your sister or anything. I'm not saying she's you know, the kind of girl who..." He cleared his throat. "You know what? I'm sure that whoever told you that they were together was just confused is all."

"Thanks anyway," said Naelen.

"Sure," said Booker. He waved at us. "Good luck. I hope you find Reign."

* * *

"Um, where are we going?" I said, as we drove out of the city limits of Sea City.

"To the airport," said Naelen. "We're going to take my jet to New Jersey to see Joel."

"But his friend just said the Joel wasn't dating her."

"Doesn't matter," said Naelen. "There's a possibility that Joel knows something. If he does, I need to find out what it is."

"Okay," I said. "I guess I can see that. But, uh, do we really have to fly there? Couldn't we just call him?"

"No," said Naelen. "Maybe Reign's there. With him, somehow. And if so, I'm taking her home."

I guessed I couldn't argue with that.

So, there was going to be a ride in a private jet. Okay, then. I guessed there were worse ways to spend my afternoon.

When we boarded the jet, it was like stepping into a luxury hotel suite or something. Two big leather easy chairs sat on one side. They could swing around to face each other or to look out the windows. Across from them was a long padded couch-type bench, accented with tasteful pillows. There was an enormous television screen at one end of the room and a mini-bar in one corner, complete with sparkling glasses. Through a doorway, I could see that there was a bed in a separate room. In case of flying overnight, I supposed.

I felt out of place, frightened that I might break something or soil something. I wished that I hadn't worn ratty jeans and a dirty shirt. I should be dressed up. Like Naelen. I didn't belong with him at all.

If he noticed my discomfort, he didn't let on.

We were quiet for most of the fairly short flight.

I used the time to wonder why it was that Logan hadn't showed up at my place begging for a place to crash or for forgiveness or another chance or something. I was glad that he hadn't, because it made things easy for me, but Logan wasn't in the habit of making things easy for me. I was worried that something might have happened to him.

Probably, though, he'd just moved on.

If there was nothing for him in Sea City, maybe he'd simply decided to hit the road again. The road was the only place he was truly at home.

Then my thoughts turned to Naelen. Now, he was all business again. He might have teased me this morning, but I wondered if his actions toward me last night had been motivated largely by his being drunk. What did he want from me?

Logan always said to me that I was the love of his life, and there was a time when I felt the same way about him. But years of disappointment and resentment had eroded that emotion. I didn't think I'd ever be in love with him again, not unless the circumstances were vastly different. For some time, I'd been dreaming of another man coming into my life. Someone strong and sure of himself, someone who could hold his own against me.

But I'd never pictured anyone like Naelen.

I watched him for a little while, wondering what it would be like to be with him.

He glanced up at me. "Yes?"

"Nothing," I said, looking away.

CHAPTER EIGHT

"Oh, man, you haven't heard from her either?" said Joel Stewart. He'd just come in from playing tennis, and he was a little sweaty.

"No, not for weeks," said Naelen.

"Oh, wow." Joel shook his head. "That's not good. See, I figured she must have just blocked me or something. I couldn't get through on her phone. I didn't see any posts from her on any of the sites. I thought I did something to piss her off." He shrugged.

"Are you and Reign together?" I said.

"Together?" said Joel. "Like together together?"

"It's not important," said Naelen. "What's important is what happened to her."

"I have no clue," said Joel.

"Where'd you see her last?" I said.

"Uh... a couple weeks ago," said Joel. "She and I were out at some bar, and these people came in. I don't think they were dragons... I don't know. They said there was a big party down in North Carolina, and that they wanted everyone to come."

"North Carolina?" I said. "And you were at a party here? In New Jersey?"

"No way, we were in D.C.," said Joel.

"Still," I said. "That's got to be a ten-hour drive."

"Whatever, they were going to fly," said Joel. "They were talking it up sideways and upside down. I didn't want to go out to the sticks to some weird party, but Reign was into it. She tried to convince me to go. I said I didn't want to. We fought about it. And then she said she was going, and she left. I didn't hear from her after that, so I figured she was done with me."

"So Reign went to North Carolina," I said.

"Yeah, I guess," said Joel.

"Do you have any idea where?" I said.

"Uh, the town was called Highpoint," said Joel. "I think it's in the mountains. Like out in the country and shit. Sounds horrible."

"You don't remember the names of any of the people who were throwing this party?"

"Uh..." He squinted. "Maybe, um, something like Ronald? Ronald something. I think it was his party."

"Well, that's so specific," I said, fighting to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

"Yeah, sorry," said Joel, scratching his chin. "I, uh, was kind of out of it at the time. A little high. I don't know. Wish I could be more help."

"Thank you so much," said Naelen. "What you've told us is helpful."

"I hope you find her," said Joel. "I really hope you find her."

* * *

"When we get to Sea City, go straight home and pack a bag," said Naelen. "We're headed to Highpoint, North Carolina."

The two of us were back on the jet, and it had just taken off.

"Wait, you want me to come?" I said.

"Of course I want you to come," he said.

"Yeah, but I'm starting to get the impression that your sister isn't a rogue dragon at all," I said. "I think she's just off on a bender or something."

"You think she's been partying for weeks?"

"I don't know." I shrugged. "I bet we get there, and they tell us she's run off with someone else to somewhere else."

"Well, that's fine," he said. "We'll follow her trail wherever it leads."

"It's only that you don't need me for this," I said.

"Why would you say that?"

"All we're doing is asking people questions. You could be doing that. Without me."

"I guess so, but I wouldn't have thought to do it. You're the one who's come up with all the good ideas to try to find her. It's because of you that we've made any progress at all. I need you."

"You're selling yourself short. You could think this through on your own. You may not have much common sense, but it's in there somewhere."

"Clarke, I want you along," he said. "Unless... maybe you really are quite serious about loathing me. I thought you were saying it simply because you weren't interested in me sexually, but maybe you really can't stand being around me, and you'd rather be rid of me."

"Well..." This was my chance to get out of all of this. My life could go back to the way it had been before.

"Obviously, you can keep the advance on your salary," he said. "You've done a marvelous job thus far. Worth every penny. So, um, if that's all, then I guess we'll part ways."

I sighed. Why couldn't I simply agree to that? "No, I'm not saying that. I don't mind doing this job, I suppose. If you still want me to do it. I can do my best to get that done. Do what you need. I just thought maybe you'd rather stop paying me for doing something that anyone could do."

"Stop selling yourself short."

"I'm not," I said.

"Then I suppose you're insulting my intelligence." He laughed.

I smiled. "No, I don't mean that either. What I mean is that I, uh, want the rest of the money you promised me. And if you want to pay me for doing this, I'll happily do it."

"Good," he said, and he did look genuinely pleased. "Then we'll leave for North Carolina as soon as you're ready."

CHAPTER NINE

Well, here I was in North Carolina. It had been quite a jet-setting day for me. I'd woken up in Maryland, shot up north to New Jersey, and then gone all the way down south. I couldn't believe that I'd been in three states in one day.

We'd landed at a small airstrip outside of Highpoint. It wasn't a big commercial airport or anything, but it had served our purposes, and it meant that we didn't have far to drive to get to the mountain town. A rental car had been waiting for us at the airstrip. Apparently, Naelen had arranged for it to be there when we arrived.

Now, we were at a gas station, filling up the gas tank.

Since we were just outside of Highpoint, I figured it wasn't out of the realm of possibility that someone might have seen Reign. I asked Naelen for his phone, and I went inside the store while he pumped the gas.

There was a young woman behind the counter. She might have been in high school, but she was definitely no older than her mid-twenties. I approached her. "Hi there."

She looked up at me. When she realized I didn't have anything in my arms to buy, she furrowed her brow. "Can I help you?"

I held up the phone. "I was wondering if you'd seen this girl recently."

She looked up at the picture. Something flickered over her expression. Surprise, maybe. Dread? She looked down at the counter. "Nope. Sorry."

"You sure?" I said. "Look again."

"I haven't seen her." She didn't look again.

"It seems like maybe you have, though. Is there a reason you don't want to tell me?"

She raised her gaze to mine. "Are you going to buy something?"

I sighed. "Please, she could be in danger. We don't know if she's been hurt or not. If you could just—"

"If you aren't going to buy anything, you should probably leave," she said.

I hesitated for a minute, and then I left the store. I went out to find that Naelen had finished filling the gas tank.

"Weirdest thing," I said to him. "I'm fairly sure that the girl behind the counter in there recognized Reign, but she denied it."

"What?" he said. "Why would she do that?"

"I don't know," I said. "But it's weird."

* * *

"Here she is," I said, holding up my phone. I'd gotten a picture of Reign from Naelen.

The guy behind the counter at the Highpoint Post Office gulped. He looked away. "No, I don't think I've ever seen her."

"Are you sure?" I said.

"Positive," he said. "Now, if you don't mind, I have to get back to my job." He gestured around at the empty office.

Right. Well, maybe he really was busy. I seemed to remember that working at a post office was extremely stressful or something. It drove people insane. The phrase going postal had to come from somewhere. "Thank you for your time," I said.

He just nodded and shooed me out.

I left the post office and crossed the street, where I found Naelen coming out of the First United Bank of Highpoint. "Hey there," he said.

"Hey," I said. "Same thing in the bank?"

"Oh yeah," he said. "Everyone acts real strange once they see her photo, but they all swear up and down they've never seen her."

"In the post office too," I said.

"So, she's been here," said Naelen. "But how are we supposed to find her if no one wants to admit that they've seen her?"

"I have no idea," I said. "Maybe they're not talking because they're afraid."

"Afraid of what?"

"Maybe we've both been wrong. Maybe Reign didn't turn into a rogue or run away or even go on a bender. Maybe somebody kidnapped her. That whole promise of a party out here? Maybe it was a lure to get her."

"Kidnapping?" he said. "For ransom? Why haven't I heard anything?"

"Maybe for ransom, maybe for some other reason."

He turned white. "What other reason could there possibly be?"

I could think of several, but I didn't want to say any of them aloud. "Don't worry about that. The point is, we're on her trail. If we keep looking, we've got to find her somewhere."

He nodded slowly. "Then we're staying here for a while."

"We are?" I said.

"We'll have to get a room at a hotel or something," he said. "I saw signs as we were driving in. The Pine Winds Lodge? It's... that way." He pointed.

* * *

The Pine Winds Lodge sat up on top of a hill at the end of a road that meandered up and around to the summit. The hotel was stately but not fancy. It had a solidness to it, as if it had been there quite some time and weathered the winds and storms. It was also surrounded by pine trees.

Naelen got us adjoining rooms on the first floor. We parked our car and got out our luggage. Naelen gave me my key, and I let myself into my room.

I was alone for the first time in hours. I sat down on the bed, feeling a little shell shocked. Everything seemed to be moving so fast. And I felt as though the ground was shifting under my feet. When I'd left this morning, I thought we were hunting down a drunk girl. Now, I was beginning to think that something more sinister was at work.

Could I handle this? It was the kind of thing Logan would do, going after some missing girl, getting rid of whatever the obstacles were in his path to getting her back. I didn't know if I was cut out for it. All I did was kill rogues. I did that to save people, but it wasn't the same thing.

I heaved a huge sigh and then flopped back on the bed.

Hmm.

Pretty comfortable.

I looked around the room. It had a rustic vibe. The bed had a headboard made of rough-hewn looking wood. There were framed photographs of pine trees on three of the walls. Pretty, pastoral landscapes. I guessed they took the pine-theme fairly seriously. The room contained a desk with a chair and a dresser. The bathroom had both a stand-up shower and a big bathtub with bubble jets.

I wondered what Naelen thought of the place. Surely, he was used to sleeping in much more posh places than this. However, for me, it was very nice, practically luxurious. I wondered how long we'd be staying.

A knock at the adjoining door.

I opened it.

Naelen was there, and he wasn't wearing a suit. He was in a button-up plaid shirt and a pair of khakis. "Hey there."

"You changed," I said.

"I felt as if I was sticking out a bit," he said. "No one else seems to be running around in designer suits."

I guessed that was true. "Well, you look, um, fine."

He smiled. "You want to get some dinner?"

"Like together?" I said.

"Well, I don't know anyone else in this town. It'll be my treat," he said.

It seemed stupid trying to resist him now, considering we were miles from home. But something within me was fighting against the very thought of giving him an inch. Still... I sighed. "Yeah, okay."

"Great," he said.

* * *

Moreau's Bistro was a fine dining restaurant located about midway down the mountain that the Pine Winds Lodge sat atop. The rest of Highpoint sat at the foot of the mountain. Well, sort of. It wasn't called Highpoint for nothing. The town itself was pretty high up. You could look out and see the tops of other mountains, fairly level with Highpoint. We were up in the Appalachians all right.

I found the town itself rather strange. It seemed to be situated in the middle of nowhere, and yet it had a huge hotel and fine dining restaurant. Was Highpoint really a destination town?

We pulled up in the rental car and found a parking spot right near the door.

The parking lot was empty.

"Looks like we'll have the place to ourselves," Naelen quipped.

"Or maybe it'll be closed," I said.

"Kill joy," he said. He got out of the car and headed for the door.

I got out too. "Well, I suppose it's heartening to know that you can drive, even though you choose not to back in Sea City."

He looked over his shoulder at me. "No reason to put Michael out of a job, is there? And besides, it's handy to have a driver when I need to work on my laptop while driving. Or if I have a few drinks."

I caught up to him. "So, you're just giving him a job out of the goodness of your heart?"

"Well, he is useful," said Naelen. "But honestly, I have enough money to employ people, and we are in a recession, so why not?"

I squared my shoulders. "I thought the recession was over." Internally, I was worried that my clothes, which were just jeans and a t-shirt, were not going to be nice enough for this restaurant. Naelen had dressed down, but he was still looking less casual than I was.

I usually didn't worry much about my clothes. Slayers didn't need a special wardrobe.

I mean, okay, sure, I was as interested in looking appealing as any girl out there, but I just didn't have the time or energy to make it a top priority either. I tried to look good without spending a lot of time on looking good.

Naelen shrugged. "Well, anyway, people are always going to want jobs." He pushed open the door to the restaurant, holding it open for me.

Great. Now, I had to walk in first in my grungy clothes. I put my head down and barreled through the door like I was a bull. Maybe I'd be so intimidating, no one would even think to question me.

"Oh, I'm sorry," said a voice.

I looked up. "Excuse me?"

"Excuse me?" said Naelen, who was coming in the door behind me.

There was a thin man in a gray suit coming through the restaurant towards us. "We're all booked up for the evening. I'm afraid we have no room."

"Booked up?" said Naelen, shouldering past me to head off the man. "There's no one here."

"Not yet," said the man, stopping in front of Naelen. "But we have reservations."

Naelen peered around the restaurant. In the room we could see, there were at least twelve tables, most able to seat four. They were covered in snowy tablecloths with pristinely folded napkins at each place setting. Every single one was empty. And there was another room through the doorway to the left. "There are only two of us. Surely you can squeeze us in someplace."

"I'm sorry. We really are completely booked," said the man in the gray suit. "The entire restaurant has been bought out."

"Well, I'm sure whoever made the reservation wouldn't mind if we were tucked in a corner someplace. We'll be very quiet."

"No, I'm afraid not." The man was starting to look a bit perturbed. "I really am sorry, sir."

Naelen put his hands in his pockets, knitting his brow. He was thinking.

"Naelen, let's go somewhere else," I said.

"Don't be silly," he said. "We'd like to eat here. There's got to be a way to make that happen." He smiled brightly at the man. "Perhaps if I was willing to pay a little extra? I could give you another two hundred dollars just to seat us."

"Really, sir, the entire restaurant has been—"

"Five hundred."

"I'm afraid that—"

"One thousand," said Naelen. "And a cash bonus for you. A tip. Name your amount."

The man swallowed. "I really wish that I could accommodate you, but in this case it isn't possible."

"Naelen," I said. "What's the deal? Let's leave."

He just shook his head. Man, he really didn't like being told no, did he? Naelen Spencer was very used to getting his way. And if he didn't, he threw money at it. This was much the way he'd convinced me to work for him, wasn't it?

"Please, sir," said the man. "You must understand, if anyone else had booked the restaurant besides Mr. Cunningham, I might consider, but in this case, I really can't."

"Who's Mr. Cunningham?" said Naelen.

At that moment, a limousine pulled into the parking lot. We all turned to look at it through the glass door of the restaurant.

The limo pulled right up to the door. The driver got out and walked around to the back. He opened the door. A woman got out. She was wearing a green silk dress and very high heels. She was quite pretty, but there was something... off about her. Something in her eyes. She looked as if she wasn't focusing on anything. As if she was simply staring through the objects in front of her.

Another woman got out behind the first one. She was also wearing a fancy dress, but more importantly, she had the same vacant look in her eyes.

Two more women got out, also nicely dressed, also staring vaguely into space.

And then, behind them, a man got out of the limo. He was tall with dark hair that had been styled with product into a spiky sort of disheveled look. He had a five o'clock shadow on his chin and cheeks—a bit of artful stubble, like a movie star. He was wearing a pinstriped suit with a light blue shirt and flashy red tie. He walked between the women with a jaunty sort of step. The women fell in behind him, wordlessly.

The man in the gray suit hustled around us to open the door for the man. "Mr. Cunningham," he said.

"Hello, there," said Mr. Cunningham. He was smiling. And then his gaze settled on us. His smile faded. "Who are they?"

"No one, sir," said the man in the gray suit. "They were just leaving."

"We most certainly were not," said Naelen, approaching Mr. Cunningham. "Look, is there anyone else in your party?"

Mr. Cunningham regarded Naelen coldly. "I don't see how that is any of your concern."

"It's only that I don't see why there's not enough room in the restaurant for all of us," said Naelen. "Surely you wouldn't begrudge us a small table in another room."

Mr. Cunningham stepped closer to Naelen, gazing deeply into the other man's eyes. His voice was mild. "You and your companion are leaving this restaurant now."

Naelen's eyes glazed over. "Yes. Leaving," he repeated in a dazed voice.

Mr. Cunningham stepped out of the way.

Naelen began walking toward the door with halting steps, moving stiffly, like a toy soldier. I followed him. Oh, hell. This was bad. This was really, really bad.

CHAPTER TEN

Naelen was now sitting with his back to the wall in a booth at Sadie's diner, right in downtown Highpoint. He looked a little pale. "What the hell just happened? I didn't want to leave that restaurant. I'm sure if I'd had just a little more time to convince him—"

"He compelled you," I said.

"He what?" said Naelen.

"Surely you've heard of compulsion," I said. "It's one of your magical powers as a dragon. You can breathe fire, move objects with your mind, and compel people to do your bidding."

"Well," he said, "only if I've shifted recently. The magic wears off about two weeks after a shift."

"Huh," I said. "I didn't know that."

"Anyway, that's impossible," said Naelen. "I can't be compelled. Only people with no magic can be compelled. Even a small talisman around a human's neck protects them from it."

"I've seen it before," I said. "He compelled you."

"But how?" said Naelen.

"I don't know," I said. "He must be insanely powerful."

"You think he's a dragon too?"

"I don't know," I said. "But those women with him, they were compelled too."

"You sure? They did seem a little... off."

"They had that look about them. All glassy-eyed and out of it."

"I did notice that. Did I look like that after he told me to leave?"

"Yup." I nodded.

We stopped talking about it because a waitress came over to our table. She had long wavy hair in a ponytail, and she was wearing a classic diner waitress uniform—light blue with an apron. "Hi there, folks. I'm Melly. I'll be your server today. Can I interest you in the specials?"

Naelen picked up his menu. Neither of us had looked at them yet. "Uh, sure, what are the specials?"

"Well, I've got a meatloaf—very tender, very tasty—comes with green beans and mashed potatoes, or you can sub fries. And then we've got an open-faced roast beef sandwich, again with the green beans and mashed potatoes or fries if you want them."

"Huh," said Naelen.

"Think I could start you off with some drinks?" said Melly.

"I don't suppose you serve alcohol here," said Naelen.

"I'll just have a Coke," I broke in.

"Pepsi okay?"

"Sure," I said. "And I think I'll try that roast beef sandwich with fries. Make sure you cover everything with gravy."

Melly grinned. "You got it."

Naelen glared at me. "I need a moment with the menu."

"Oh, that's fine," said Melly.

Then he folded it up and handed it to her. "Oh, what the hell. Give me a roast beef sandwich too. But I want the mashed potatoes."

"And to drink?"

"Uh... Pepsi."

"Sure thing," said Melly, taking up our menus. "You folks work with the conservation center?"

"What?" I said.

"Oh, I guess not," she said. "We don't get a lot of outsiders in town, though, unless they're visiting the Wildlife Conservation Center outside of town."

"What is that?" said Naelen.

"It's government run," she said. "It's the reason we got that big hotel built up on the mountain."

"Huh," I said. I guessed that answered my question as to what the hotel was doing here. "But what are you conserving?"

"Wildlife," she said, as if I was an idiot.

I furrowed my brow, confused.

"Like a wildlife sanctuary?" said Naelen.

"Sort of," said Melly. "I'll be right back with your drinks." She scurried off.

"Well, that sounds kind of weird," said Naelen.

"This whole place is weird," I said.

Melly came right back with our drinks and set them down in front of us.

"Melly?" I said.

"Yes?"

"Do you happen to know anything about Mr. Cunningham?"

Melly straightened up quickly, her features freezing. "Sorry, I better be getting back to the kitchen. They're awfully short-staffed back there. Need the extra help." She turned and fled.

I sucked Pepsi through my straw. "Well, that's weird too."

"Definitely," said Naelen.

* * *

After dinner, we went back to the Pine Winds Lodge. There was a bar off the lobby, and after the evening we'd had, we both wanted a drink. I was feeling so confused and wiped out that I didn't even argue when he said he was buying. I just let him.

I got a Corona with lime, which they brought to me with a frosty mug, and Naelen got a whiskey sour. We sat at the bar and nursed our drinks for a bit. I wasn't sure what I thought about drinking Corona out of a glass. Somehow, it didn't taste quite the same.

I showed the bartender a picture of Reign, but he seemed to genuinely have never seen her before. Maybe whatever Reign had done in this town hadn't taken her to the Pine Winds Lodge.

Naelen finished his drink quickly and ordered another round, even though I protested. I was only halfway done with my beer. Out came another bottle and another frosty glass, however. So, I felt pressured to put it away. I finished my first beer quickly and poured the next one out into the glass. I took a long gulp.

I was already starting to feel the effects of the beer. I wasn't exactly a lightweight, but it didn't take a lot to give me a buzz. I knew my limits and tried to stick to them.

But that was tough when there was a billionaire dragon buying me drinks.

"We should do shots," he said.

"What?" I said. Was he some kind of insane frat boy? "We've got stuff to do tomorrow. We can't be waffling around hungover all day."

"Oh," he said. "I forgot you can't simply shift and knock out your hangover." Whenever dragons shifted, they healed any wounds or sickness that they might have. When they shifted back to human form, they were good as new.

"Well, I can't," I said.

"Maybe just one shot, then," he said.

I shook my head.

"Come on," he said. "I'm going to buy some. Once it's in front of you, you'll drink it."

He was right. He got this delicious shot for me called a Chocolate Cake, which was made of clear liquors but somehow managed to take just like chocolate. Afterward, I felt much, much drunker. I was heading out of buzzed territory into inebriated.

Naelen didn't seem the least bit affected, however. He gleefully ordered himself another shot.

"No more for me," I said.

"Okay," he said. "Kill joy."

"Do you usually drink this much?" I said.

He shrugged. "Is it a lot?"

"It seems out of character for you," I blurted out. "You're so... proper."

He laughed. "Proper?"

"Prim and proper," I confirmed, drinking more Corona.

"Well, maybe that's why I do it, then," he said. "I need an outlet. Need to let loose sometimes. I work very hard, and there's a lot of pressure on me. So, I guess I indulge myself a bit."

"A bit?" I said.

He laughed again.

I sat back in my chair. "I can't drink anymore."

The bartender put another shot in front of Naelen. He downed it. "You don't like to drink?"

"Not really. What if a rogue shows up while I'm out of it? Then I'm dead, and so are a bunch of other people."

He considered. "I guess that makes sense."

"Of course it does."

"What made you want to be a dragon slayer?"

I reached for my beer, even though I'd just said I didn't want any more to drink. "It's not so much that I wanted to do it. It's just that I felt it needed to be done."

"How do you mean?"

For some strange reason, I felt like telling him. It was probably because I'd been drinking. The alcohol was loosening my tongue. Typically, I didn't talk about this. "Well, my sister and I were both really young when our family was out hiking together. We did it a lot. Hiking. Typical family activity. Gina and I would always get ahead of them. We'd run up the path as quick as we could, and my mom would yell after us to slow down, and then that day, she stopped yelling. She started screaming. We ran back down the path, back towards our parents. And that was when we saw the dragon."

"Oh, God," said Naelen.

I took another drink of beer. "My father was already dead. He was bleeding and burning and lying there, and he was gone. I guess he'd thrown himself in front of my mother, trying to protect her. My mom was yelling at us girls to run, to get away, but we didn't. We wanted to help her. But then the dragon swooped down on her and... Well, anyway, after that we did run. And I thought to myself that I really wished I'd been able to stop that thing."

"Geez, Clarke, I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head.

"It was a rogue. I know that now. You can always tell by the black, empty eyes they have. Shifter eyes look different. There's something inside a shifter. Something intelligent. But the rogues are just monsters. Anyway, when I got big enough and strong enough, I figured out what I needed to do to become a dragon slayer. I learned how to shoot a bow and arrows. I tracked down other rogue dragons. I didn't want another little girl to have to watch her mother die."

Naelen wouldn't look at me. He rubbed his chin. "That's horrible."

"Yeah." I shrugged. "You asked."

He glanced up at me. "I should have known there was a reason like that. I should have realized it would have taken something traumatic to make you what you are."

"What do you mean by that? What am I?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. Strong and fearless and determined, I guess."

I drank more beer, even though I was feeling far drunker than I should.

"I think I even admire that mouth on you," he said, chuckling. Then he got serious again. "But it's terrible what happened to your parents. What happened to you and your sister after that? Did you go to live with grandparents or aunts and uncles?"

"For while, we lived with our grandma," I said. "But she, um, she was older, and eventually, she really couldn't take care of us. She developed dementia, and she didn't know who we were, and she'd get angry at us, want to know why we were in her house. She'd chase us out and lock all the doors. Finally, child services came and took us away."

He grimaced. "Why am I afraid that things didn't get better?"

I sighed. "You know what? Enough with my sob story. I'm fine now. I grew up okay. Everything's all right. Let's just drop it."

"I respect that you want to keep doing what you do," he said. "Killing rogues. Protecting people. But I wonder if you might consider helping me once I discover this cure."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, God, Naelen, there is no cure."

"There is," he said.

"We don't even know if Reign is a rogue anymore. It's looking less and less likely."

"Well, maybe that doesn't matter. Maybe someone should be searching for a cure anyway. And if I find one, maybe then I could hire you to help me track and capture rogues and cure them."

"Look, there can't be a cure," I said. "When the shift happens, the human part of a rogue is destroyed. Killed. It's gone. It's not coming back."

He sighed. "There has to be something that you might like to do, then. Some way that I could make sure that you were doing all right."

"What?" I sat up straight. Now, the alcohol was starting to make me feel angry. It did that sometimes. Another reason it was best to practice moderation.

"I want to help you, Clarke. It doesn't seem right, all the things you've been through. Now, my life hasn't been a picnic either, but I've at least had the means to live comfortably, and I think you deserve that too. I've been to your apartment, and I know the way you live—"

"The way I live?" I said. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," he said. "I didn't mean... You're proud. I get it. But I'm not offering you a handout. I want to find work for you. I want you to earn money. I can't see why you'd object to that."

"I don't need you to give me a job," I said.

He sighed. "I didn't mean to offend you."

I just glared at him. "Why I thought that it could be possible for you and I to have a drink together is beyond me. You are... insufferable." I got up out of my chair and lurched forward.

He was up in a second, hand on my shoulder to steady me.

I shoved him off. "Don't touch me." Were my words slurring? Hell.

"Please, don't be this way, Clarke," he said. "I take it back. I should have known better than to—"

"Stop." I put my finger in his face. "I don't want to hear your voice anymore."

He sighed again.

I drew in a deep breath, and then managed to take fairly steady strides across the room and out the door. Once out of the bar, however, I needed to cling to the wall to stay upright.

* * *

Back in my room, I splashed water on my face. I felt incredibly drunk. I needed to drink some water, or else I was going to be crazy hungover tomorrow. I sat by the sink and filled glass after glass with water. Down the hatch it went. I drank water until my stomach was bloated with it.

And I still felt drunk and out of it. I didn't like that. I was wary. I was vulnerable. I thought of a rogue dragon coming through the glass doors that opened onto my own little porch outside. Glass would shatter everywhere, and the dragon would fly in, snarling, smoke coming from its nostrils. And I would struggle to even load my bow, because I'd be so damned out of it.

Sometimes, when I was really wasted, an icy cold shower made me feel more alert. Maybe it would help this time.

I took off all my clothes and turned on the water.

I stepped into the cold spray.

I yelped.

It was freezing, and goosebumps puckered all over my skin. I forced myself to put my head underneath the spray. My teeth started to chatter.

But.

I did feel more alert. I made myself stay in the shower for several more minutes before I couldn't handle it anymore. And then I got out and wrapped myself in one of the hotel towels, which was actually kind of skimpy sized.

While I was using all the towels in the bathroom to get dry, I began to think about my behavior back at the bar.

Had that been warranted?

The truth was, I didn't like the idea of being a burden on anyone. I knew about burdens. My sister Gina? I loved her. I'd always love her. She was family. But she was a burden. I needed to take care of her, and I didn't resent that, but she made my life hell sometimes.

I never wanted to be a burden to anyone else.

So, when he started going on about wanting to give me a job? It just rubbed me the wrong way. I didn't want him to feel as if he needed to do something like that for me.

But maybe he was right. It wasn't as if he was offering me a handout. Instead, he was trying to give me a job.

Now, that stuff about the cure? That was crap. There was no cure. But if Naelen Spencer wanted to find me a job, one that paid okay, maybe I would be an idiot to turn that down. Hell, maybe I owed him an apology.

I got dressed again and pulled my sopping hair into a ponytail. I pounded on the door to our adjoining rooms, but he didn't answer. He was probably still back at the bar.

So, I padded down the hallway to the lobby and back into the bar.

At first, I didn't see Naelen anywhere. He wasn't sitting where we'd been sitting. That area was empty now.

But then I did see him. He was on the opposite end of the room, sitting at a table with a woman with red hair. The woman was laughing at something he'd said, and he was leaning across the table toward her, grinning and talking in a low voice. They looked awfully cozy.

Something told me that now wasn't the best time to talk to him. He was busy. He was flirting with that woman.

I looked her over. She was wearing a pantsuit. She had long, dangling silver earrings and artfully applied makeup. She was the kind of woman that Naelen belonged with.

Hadn't I already told myself that there was no way things could work between Naelen and me? We were all wrong for each other.

I couldn't be jealous of this woman.

Couldn't be.

I went back to my room. But I didn't sleep right away. Instead, I stared at the ceiling for a long time.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

I'd been up late, and drinking to boot, and everyone knows that drunk sleep isn't good sleep, so I slept late into the morning, only waking up when I heard a woman's shrill voice through the wall.

I couldn't make out what she was saying, but she sounded angry.

For a moment, I was disoriented, waking up here, but then I put everything together, and realized that the woman who was being shrill was in the room with Naelen.

I got out of bed and went over to the adjoining door. Now, her voice was clear enough that I could make it out.

"Are you serious?" she was saying.

Naelen responded. "I'm trying to be honest. I don't see the point in lying to you about it and then disappointing you later. I don't want your number because I don't plan to call you. Would it be better if I lied to you about that?"

"It would be better if you hadn't brought me back to your room last night," she said. "I thought we had fun together."

"We did," he said.

"But you're not interested in seeing where this goes?"

"You live in Virginia," he said. "I split my time between Maryland and New York. It would go absolutely nowhere. I knew that the minute we started to talk."

"But you brought me back here anyway," she said. "You bastard."

"I'm sorry you feel that way," said Naelen mildly. "For what it's worth, I'll always think of you fondly."

"Oh, stick it up your ass," she said.

The door to Naelen's room opened and then slammed shut.

I hurried over to look out the peephole. Yup, same redhead from last night.

The door to Naelen's room opened again, and he came out into the hallway. "Listen, I really am sorry if I misled you."

She flipped him off. Then she hurried down the hallway.

He sighed heavily and pulled the door shut.

I waited for a minute and then I scampered over to the adjoining door and banged on it.

He opened it immediately. "You heard that."

"Oh, I heard everything," I said. "Luckily, I slept through the main event last night, but you might want to reconsider bringing girls back here. The walls are thin."

He grimaced. "I'm sorry you had to witness that."

I shrugged. "It's all right." I didn't mind watching him squirm. And even though I was attracted to Naelen, at least physically, this entire situation only made it clear I'd made the right choice staying away from him thus far. I didn't even feel jealous anymore. Just sort of proud of myself for avoiding a land mine.

He cleared his throat. "We slept late. We better get moving," he said, switching gears.

"You're right," I said. "But I don't know what it is we're going to do today. Asking people if they've seen Reign doesn't seem to be getting us anywhere."

"Well, we'll talk about that over breakfast," he said.

"It's late. I don't even know if there is any breakfast to be had."

"We'll go back to that diner," he said. "The menu said all-day breakfast."

"Okay," I said.

* * *

"Well, I'm sorry about all of that," he said as we waited for our breakfast. He'd ordered pancakes and sausage. I'd ordered a cheese omelet and hash browns. "I don't know why that always happens to me."

"What are you talking about?" I said.

"I always seem to attract needy women is all," he said.

I arched an eyebrow. "Needy?"

"Yeah, I don't know what it is, but practically every woman I take to bed gets all bent out of shape that I haven't somehow fallen head over heels for her in the short time we've spent together. I don't understand what it is they're thinking. Generally speaking, we've only spent a few alcohol-sodden hours in each other's company, and that's no basis for a relationship."

I gaped at him. I really had no idea how to respond to that.

"I don't know how I get myself into these situations."

The waitress came by and brought us coffee.

I picked up three packets of sugar and ripped off the tops. Then I dumped them in my coffee. "I think you end up in those situations when you take women home from the bar."

"Well, naturally," he said. "But it's not as if I go out looking for these women or anything. I might strike up a conversation to be friendly, but that's all."

I opened a creamer and dumped that in too. "So, they all throw themselves at you? All women who you take home are just begging for it?" I was a teensy bit sarcastic at this point.

He sighed. "Of course I'm not saying that either. It's not as if I don't want to sleep with them. I do, of course. But it all just... happens. It's like a blur. I don't know how I end up doing it. And then I'm waking up in the morning with some woman trying to get me to propose."

I stirred my coffee. "She was right, you know. You really are a bastard."

"Why?" He sounded genuinely confused.

"Because you lead these women on and then you drop them," I said.

"I don't lead them on," he said.

"You sleep with them."

"Yes, but not because I want to form... bonds with them."

I took a sip of my coffee. "You have a very problematic understanding of women."

"What? I do not. It's because they aren't dragons." He sighed. "It's a different culture. Dragons are casual about sex until they meet their mates. Then they're monogamous and committed, but not before. Humans, vampires, even drakes. You're all caught up in this idea of choosing to commit to someone. Well, I'm never going to do that. I don't want to be tied down."

"Never?" I said. "Not even if you met the right girl?"

"Didn't I tell you that I fully intended to fight the mating bond?"

I guessed he had said something about that. "Well, but what if you met someone you really liked? A person you just wanted to be around all the time?"

"Well, then, that person would be a friend," he said.

"What if you were sexually attracted to that friend?" I said.

"I would suggest that the two of us screw each other's brains out and get it out of our systems and then go back to being friends," he said.

"You think that would work?" I said. "You don't think that would make it all more complicated?"

"I don't see what would be complicated about it," he said. "It's just sex."

I drank more coffee.

"You don't agree?" he said.

I blushed a little. "Uh..." I unwrapped my silverware, which was swathed in a napkin. "I'm not really into having casual sex."

"Okay," he said. "But you don't have boyfriend." He leaned forward. "You don't have a boyfriend, do you?"

"No," I said, laughing a little.

"So, then what kind of sex do you have?" he said.

My face seemed to get hotter. I set my fork down next to my plate and then picked it up and set it back down again, trying to get it perfectly straight. "You can't ask me something like that. It's personal."

"I don't mean it in a personal way," he said. "I'm only curious. You don't have to be embarrassed." But something in his tone had shifted. His voice was a little deeper, more intimate.

I swallowed. I raised my gaze to his and quickly looked away. "Look, I only sleep with a man if I'm in a committed relationship." Which wasn't actually true, since whatever it was that I'd had with Logan couldn't really be classified that way, but whatever.

"Really?" he said, sounding surprised. "Wow."

"Why do you say that?"

He leaned across the table, speaking more quietly. "Do you find you miss it?"

"Miss what? Sex?"

He nodded. "What if you didn't have a relationship for, I don't know, months?"

I laughed. "Is it unfathomable for you to think of not having sex for months?"

"You go months? Months without doing... anything?"

I squirmed. "Is this another dragon thing? Are dragons really horny or something?"

"Well..." He shrugged. He took a drink of his own coffee, which was black. "I don't know. Once the bond takes hold, people generally can't keep their hands off each other. My parents were horrible. Hell, they still are horrible. They joke about it all the time, and it just disgusts me. But I suppose I did learn to be rather open about sexuality, not ashamed of it from that."

"I guess that's interesting," I said.

"So, going months is not a big deal for you?"

I picked up my spoon and set it next to my fork. "This is really none of your business."

"It makes you uncomfortable to talk about it?"

"Let's just say there's nothing to talk about and leave it at that."

"Oh, I don't know, Clarke, that seems like a shame. Really, you're very lovely, and I think that it must be sort of frustrating—"

"I'd rather be frustrated than treated the way you treat women," I snapped. I was annoyed at how my heart had leapt when he called me lovely. How could I possibly be attracted to man like this?

"I guarantee you, I treat women quite well. I do my best to please them. I'm not a selfish lover. And I always make sure that they have a way home in the morning and I make sure to pay for their drinks and—"

"But you hurt them," I said, thinking of Logan, thinking of my empty bed on more mornings than I liked to count, when we'd both gone to sleep the night before in each other's arms. "You might not realize it, Naelen, but there is an unspoken promise in taking a woman to bed. If you really don't want there to be anything between you and the woman you're trying to shag, I think you need to be upfront about that."

"Really?" He mused over that. "You mean tell her before we sleep together that I have no intention of kindling any kind of relationship?"

"Yes," I said. "And if she still goes home with you after that, well, then she's asking for it."

He laughed. "All right, then. I'll try that." He smiled at me. "Thank you for the tip."

I blushed again. "Can we talk about something else? Anything else?"

"Like what?" He took another drink of coffee.

"Like how we're going to find Reign."

"Well, you're the one with the ideas about that," he said. "I don't know what to do at all."

I chewed on my lip. "We're getting nowhere asking about her and showing that picture. But she was supposed to be going to a party. A party hosted by someone named Ronald or something like that. Anyway, maybe we should ask about the party. Maybe people will remember a whole bunch of out-of-towners partying around here. It seems like it might be out of the ordinary."

"All right," said Naelen.

"That's assuming that they even had a party," I said. "Maybe they told Reign it was a party, but it was all a lie."

"If anyone would know about parties, it would be the police," said Naelen.

"True," I said. "I guess that's our first stop."

* * *

Deputy Jimmy Smith squinted at the picture of Reign. "No, sir, I can't say I've ever seen her. I'm sorry." He handed the phone back to Naelen.

I couldn't tell whether he was lying or not. He seemed pretty sure of himself, but maybe he was better at lying than some of the other people in town.

"From what we understand," I said, "she came here to go to a party a few weeks ago. Do you remember any complaints about noise or anything like that around that time period?"

The deputy looked at me. "Uh... well, no I don't think so. But it all kind of runs together. Let me go and look back over my reports. I keep everything filed by date." He shuffled back behind the counter.

The Highpoint Police Station wasn't very big, and the only person who seemed to be working there at the time was Jimmy Smith.

He came back with a folder full of computer printouts. "Uh, doesn't look like there were any noise complaints then, no. Sorry about that."

"That's okay," I said. "Thanks for checking. We appreciate it."

"Sure thing," said Jimmy. He scratched the bridge of his nose. "Listen, if you're looking for a place where the kids sometimes throw parties, you might want to check out the old Trimball place. We're always chasing kids out of there at night."

"What is the Trimball place?" asked Naelen.

"Well, it's an abandoned farm," said Jimmy. "House is still standing. So's the barn. Kids bring beer out there, crawl around the loft, climb all over the inside of the house. We can't keep 'em out. They broke out all the windows on the first floor. We tried to board 'em up, but they get in one way or the other. Don't know if it'll be any help to you, but that's really all I can think of."

* * *

"It doesn't really sound like the kind of party that Reign would go to, does it?" I said. "It sounds more like local teenagers trying to get away from their parents."

"True," said Naelen, who was driving the rental car out of town, down the road that led to the old Trimball place. "But I think we have to check out every lead. If she is out there somewhere at this old farm, then we won't find her anywhere else."

"She probably isn't, though."

"But we should check, or else I'll always wonder," he said.

"Okay," I said. I understood that.

The Trimball farm was less than six miles out of town. It was a ramshackle white house with peeling siding that was falling off the house.

In its day, the place was probably rather impressive. It was fairly large, which a lot of rooms and a big wraparound porch. Of course, now the thing was barely hanging onto the house and I was fairly sure the wood of the porch was rotting away.

We pulled up over a rough and bumpy dirt road and parked in front of the house.

The barn was off to the other side. It had been red in its better days.

We got out of the car.

"Well," he said. "What now?"

I shut the car door. "This was your idea to come out here."

"So, what are you saying?"'

"That it's your call what we do," I said.

"Well... I guess we should look for Reign," he said.

"There's no one out here."

"She could still be a rogue," he said. "She could have come to a party out here, been given one of those damned drinks, and shifted."

I supposed he was right. "Well, in that case, let me get my bow and arrows out of the trunk."

He popped it for me.

I retrieved them, the bow fitting over my shoulder where it belonged. I felt better carrying them. Stronger. More myself. "All right," I said. "Well, if she were a dragon, she'd probably be out in the field or something, not inside either of these buildings, but let's go ahead and check through them. We'll split up to make it go quicker."

"Sure," he said. "I'll take the house, you take the barn?"

"Okay," I said. I trudged off in the direction of the barn. "Watch out for snakes," I called after him.

He made a face at me. "Snakes?"

"You afraid of snakes?"

"Please," he said. "I'm a dragon."

I laughed.

"You be careful too," he called back.

I waved and turned back to the barn.

The barn had two large doors that stood open, but inside, it was dark. As I got closer, I could smell the remnants of scents—hay, manure, animal smell. I wrinkled up my nose. Once, when I was a kid, we'd lived near a farm. I'd never much liked the way it smelled, I had to admit.

As I stepped inside the barn, I felt a rush of trepidation.

I shook myself and turned around, making sure that I was alone. I wondered what it was about this barn that gave me the creeps.

I squared my shoulders and touched my arrows, running my fingers over the fletchings.

"Just an old barn, that's all," I whispered to myself. I plunged into the darkness.

At first, I was nearly suffocated by the warmth and the smell. It seemed oppressive, choking down on me from all sides. I couldn't see either, so it was like being plunged into blindness. An unpleasant blindness in which I couldn't breathe and everything smelled bad.

My pulse started to race and the back of my neck broke out in a sweat.

I didn't move at all for several moments. I stood there, forcing myself to acclimate, waiting for my eyes to adjust. Eventually, they did. But my pulse kept racing.

The barn had two rows of stalls. They were dirty, dusty, and it was hot in here. I fought through the air to peer inside one on the left and then another on the right.

Nothing in them besides the dirt floor.

I looked behind myself, and then back down the row of stalls. Did I really have to go look in every single one of them? A dragon wouldn't be in here. Not in a place like this, so confined.

But the truth was that a dragon would fit inside a stall like this. Dragons weren't huge, not like the ones in the storybooks. They shifted into a creature about the same size as a human, with a wing-span less than six feet. They were fierce, but not enormous. With folded wings, one could easily be concealed in one of these stalls.

I shifted on my feet, still resisting going further into the barn. In spite of how warm it was in here, I felt a cold chill travel up my spine, making the sweat on my neck feel clammy.

What was wrong with me? Why was I resisting this? Something about this barn made me feel...

Well, I supposed it had happened in a barn.

But not like this one, a voice screamed inside my head. A nice barn, all cleared out, and refinished, and turned into apartments for Mrs. Clarice and when it happened, there was blood underneath the loft, blood spattered everywhere and—

Now I was trembling. I didn't like to think about that if I could help it.

I forced myself to start walking down between the stalls just to run away from that memory. If there was any way that I could purge that memory from my mind, I would do it, but I hadn't yet found a way to get rid of it, and sometimes it haunted me.

My pulse picked up even more speed. Now my breath was coming in gasps, and my forehead was sweating. My hair was pasted against my forehead. I shoved it out of the way. I touched my arrows again.

The next two stalls were empty.

I hurried forward. These will be empty too, I told myself. Nothing will be there.

But I couldn't help it, and I pictured something in the stall. Something bleeding and twisted and ruined and—

"No," I said out loud.

Still, I hesitated. I didn't want to look in the next stall.

"He's dead," I said fiercely. "He's dead. He can't be here." And I propelled myself forward.

Nothing. Empty stalls.

I let out a noisy breath.

Only two more.

I shut my eyes. Wasn't this enough? Did I have to look in those too? There was nothing in this damned barn. We shouldn't even be here. If Naelen hadn't insisted...

I was crying, I realized. My eyes were wet with tears.

I took an unsteady step forward.

"There's nothing in those stalls," I said through clenched teeth, urging myself forward.

I peered around the edge of the stall on the right side.

Nothing. Empty and dirty.

Then I turned to the right side.

Something was there.

Something big and dark and motionless.

I pulled three arrows out of my quiver. Three, not one, which was my habit, because if I held all three, I could rapid-fire three shots one right after the other, increasing my chances of doing damage.

I held all the arrows in one hand, but only notched the first. I crept forward.

The dark thing didn't move.

Now, closer, I caught the scent of singed flesh. Something burnt.

I nudged the motionless thing with my foot.

Pieces of it flaked off, oily ash. It had been burnt to a crisp. It was... an animal of some kind. Maybe a wolf. A coyote. I couldn't be sure.

And then I realized there was a hole in the stall. I hadn't been able to see the light filtering through it because the dead animal was in the way. But it was fairly obvious that the thing had crawled in through the hole and died here.

If it was burnt that meant...

I moved around the dead animal and knelt down. The wood here had been burnt too. It looked like something had blown flame at this hole, trying to get to the wolf or coyote.

Dragon.

Damn it, maybe Naelen was right after all. Maybe Reign really was a rogue.

I backed out of the stall, carefully avoiding the dead thing. There was a loft in the barn, but I wondered if it was really worth searching up there. The dragon had been outside the barn. If I was going to find it, I probably needed to get out into the field, make noise, draw it out.

I lowered my bow, starting back toward the door of the barn.

And a flutter of wings and fire descended on me from above.

A dragon was coming out of the loft, its eyes the empty black holes of a rogue. Its claws were extended, its jaws gaping.

I brought up my bow.

But a wall of flame was already coming for me.

CHAPTER TWELVE

I dove for the ground, switching my bow to the same hand as my three arrows.

The flame went over my head, missing me by centimeters. The smell of burning hair filled the air. It had gotten the tips of my hair.

I rolled over onto my back, bringing my hands together. One hand took the bow, the other notched the first arrow. I let all three go, one after the other, as quick as I could.

The first two arrows went wide.

But the third penetrated the dragon's leg. It whined.

Blindly, I felt behind me for more arrows. I really needed to learn how to shoot with more than three arrows in my shooting hand, but my hands were too damned small. If I were a man—

The dragon sailed out of the barn door, flapping its wings.

Hell, it was getting away.

I scrambled to my feet, pulling three more arrows out of my quiver as I did.

Wait. That arrow felt different.

I glanced down at it. Oh, right! The damned tranquilizer arrows. If this was Reign, and I killed her, Naelen would never forgive me. Hell, he might kill me.

Running after the dragon, I dropped the two regular arrows and pulled out two other tranq arrows.

The dragon was gaining altitude, climbing into the sky.

Damn it. Still running, I notched an arrow and let it fly. Then the next. Then the next. I had to be careful with my aim. These arrows were tranquilizers, but if they hit in the wrong place, they could still be deadly.

Two arrows hit the dragon. One in its flank. Another in its neck. The dragon faltered, losing height.

Good. I got it. Now, how long was it going to take before those damned tranqs took hold?

The dragon seemed to focus on me. It let out a cry of rage and swooped down for me.

I pulled out more arrows.

The dragon went into a low dive, pulling up at the last second and heading straight for me with claws extended.

I let fly with three more arrows.

They went low, all flying underneath its belly.

One struck the car's tire.

Oops.

But then the dragon made a sloppy landing, skidding into the ground.

I pulled out another arrow, even though I was out of tranq arrows. I waited.

The dragon stopped moving.

I let out a breath. The tranquilizer must have taken hold.

I rubbed my forehead. Whoa. Where the heck was Naelen? I turned in a circle, looking for him.

But before I could locate him, I caught sight of another dragon on the horizon. It was flying in low, just over the trees. It was green and silver, and I could see its scales glittering in the sunlight.

It was too far away to know if it was a rogue or not, but it stood to reason that it was. This could have been some other poor sod who'd had one of those Claw Rushes at some party out here.

The only problem was that I was out of arrows. There was a limit to how many would fit in my quiver. I scanned the immediate area, looking for some arrows that I could pick up off the ground. There were the two that I'd dropped, the lethal ones. I guessed if I only used them to wound the dragon, then it would be all right to shoot them. After all, maybe this dragon was Reign. I couldn't kill either of them.

The drogan was coming up quickly.

I darted over and picked up both arrows, notching them and taking aim.

But I waited. This dragon needed to attack first. That was my code if I couldn't ascertain whether it was a rogue right off. I didn't shoot at dragons unless they were clearly a threat, and this one was only flying.

The dragon swooped down and alighted in front of me.

Now, I was close, and I could see that its eyes weren't black. This wasn't a rogue.

The dragon surveyed the motionless corpse and then kicked off, back into the air again, flapping its wings.

"Naelen?" I said.

The dragon was flying back over the trees.

I took off running after it.

It flew past the trees.

I ran through the trees. On the other side of the strip of vegetation was a lake, its water glittering in the sun. The dragon dove straight down into the water, disappearing.

In seconds, Naelen resurfaced.

"It was you," I said.

He smiled, swimming towards me. Then the water got shallower, and he was wading. The water was at his armpits, then at his belly button. I could see his pecks, and they were nice pecks. They were defined and tan and powerful and had just a very tiny bit of hair on them. His stomach was flat. He kept coming closer, and then I could see that there was a tiny line of hair below his belly button, and that it was leading down further and further and—

I looked away. "Uh, you have clothes out here?"

He chuckled. "They're lying on that log there." He pointed.

I looked where he was pointing at saw the clothes. "You want me to—?" But then I glanced back at him, and he was totally naked and the water was only at his thighs, and I could see his—

I turned around, my face burning.

He was still laughing.

My whole body felt hot, not just where I was blushing. I felt tingly and my own clothes seemed a little too tight. I shook myself. Okay, so he had the body of a Greek god. So what? He was perfect, but he was a jerk, and he was technically my boss, and he was a dragon, and I had no business being attracted to him, no business at all, and—

"I saw the dragon, and I thought you might need some help," he said from behind me. "That's why I shifted."

"I managed just fine on my own," I said. To my horror, my voice was shaking.

"No, I saw that," he said.

Without looking at him again, I stalked back through the strip of trees toward the house. One of my arrows had penetrated the car's tire, and we weren't going anywhere with a flat.

* * *

I had the car jacked up when he got back. I was standing on the lug wrench to loosen the lug nuts on the tire. They were always on too tight for me to loosen with just my arm strength. Actually maybe I could have done it if I really put my all into it, but standing on the wrench was easier.

"Let me help you with that," he said.

"I got it," I snapped. "I'm the one who shot the tire out. I'll put the spare on." I bounced on the wrench until it loosened. Then I moved on to the next lug nut.

"Seriously," he said. "I can—"

I pointed at him. "Stop."

He shook his head. "You bewilder me, Clarke Gannon."

I ignored him.

"The dragon you took down isn't Reign, by the way," he said.

"No?" I was standing on the lug wrench again.

"No," he said. "She's red in dragon form. I should try to dig up a picture for you... Can't think why I didn't do that already."

I bounced on the lug wrench. It didn't budge. "Yeah," I grunted. "That might have been helpful."

"Please let me do that," he said.

I shot him a nasty look. "You ever change a tire yourself, Mr. Rich Boy?"

"Yes," he said, narrowing his eyes. He held out his hand for the wrench.

I hopped off it. Stretched. Tried to go at it with my hands. My palms were sweaty. I couldn't turn it. I grunted again.

"Clarke—"

"What are we going to do about that rogue there, then? How long until the tranquilizer wears off?"

"We should have quite some time," he said. "Six or seven hours, maybe eight."

"Well, if it's not Reign, I guess I should, uh, put it out of its misery. Unless you want to take it back to your lab."

His shoulders slumped. "What will you do after it's gone?"

I took out my phone. "There's a website where shifters post photos of any missing family members in their dragon forms. If I find a match, I call the family and someone comes to get the body. I generally tell them that I found the corpse, not that I killed it."

"And if there's no match?"

"Well, I don't know whose territory this is down here, but I could make some calls. Have someone come and cart it away."

"Someone who's going to sell the parts?" said Naelen.

"Probably," I said.

"No," he said. "If there's no match, can't you just leave it?"

I nodded. "Sure. Sure, I can do that."

We were quiet.

He held out his hand again. "Give me that." He gestured to the lug wrench. "You look for a match."

I hesitated. Why didn't he look for a match? But maybe it would be rude to ask him to do that. Too painful for him. I handed the wrench over.

He took it and started working on the lug nuts.

I got my phone out and navigated to the website with the pictures of the missing dragons. I scrolled through the pictures. There weren't very many. This rogue was definitely not any one of them. So, I picked up my bow and got out an arrow (I'd gathered them up before starting to change the tire.) I took careful aim. I had the luxury, since the dragon wasn't coming at me.

The arrow soared forward with a twang.

And burrowed right into the dragon's eyeball, deep into its skull. Dead.

"Geez," said Naelen.

I looked back at him.

He already had the tire off. "Did you find a match?"

"No," I said.

"But you didn't look for very long."

"There weren't many missing dragons," I said. "Not all of the rogues are shifters who've lost their human side. Some are just beasts, nothing more. Out here, where practically no dragons live, you wouldn't expect to find a shifter-rogue."

His jaw twitched. He went back to the tire.

I set down my bow. Now I felt stupid. I had nothing to do at all. I wanted to bully him into letting me change the tire, but that seemed idiotic. So, I did nothing. I played with the hem of my shirt, twisting it around my forefinger.

"You're good with the bow," he said without looking at me. "The way you run and shoot like that. So fast. I've never seen anything like it."

"It's the style I thought made the best sense," I said. "Some slayers think it's better to remain stationary, out of sight of the dragon. That way you can be really accurate and ideally kill with your first shot. But I don't see that as practical. Dragons fly away. Dragons attack. They're breathing fire at you. Sometimes, they use magic. You have to keep moving. So, I'd rather sacrifice a bit of accuracy for speed and versatility. Besides, the more I practice, the more accurate I get, which means I'm fast and deadly."

Rogues had a lot of magic, but they weren't very good at using it most of the time. They never used compulsion, for instance. Most of their telekinesis involved plowing you over or knocking you down. They weren't much for complex moves, like picking someone up and dangling them in the air.

"It's impressive," he said. "You're impressive."

"Honestly?" I said. "I don't see what's so impressive about it. I'm not even sure why you need me. You're a dragon. If you see Reign, can't you just shift and go hook your claws into her back and drag her home?"

He was standing over the trunk, pulling out the spare tire. "Maybe. I don't know. I've never tried."

"You want help with the tire?"

"No, I'm fine." He lifted it easily and came back around to fit it to the side of the car. "I'm starting to get a little bored with reassuring you that I need your help. You're brilliant. You're talented. You're skillful. You're amazing. You've got no reason to be insecure, and I think—"

"I'm not insecure," I protested.

"You keep going on about how much I don't need you," he said. "And I'm telling you, I do need you."

"I just don't want to get in your way, that's all," I said. "I never want to be a problem for someone else. Dead weight."

"You aren't. You're nothing like that."

"All right, fine. Great. Just... you stay out of my way too, okay?"

He laughed softly as he started to put the lug nuts back on. "Bewildered. I'm bewildered."

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

"What was that?" Naelen hit the brakes so hard that I was flung forward into my seatbelt painfully.

"You mean that loud banging noise?" I said.

He put the car in park. "I think that was a tire. Another tire."

"What?" I said. "That can't be. We just had a flat."

He got out. "Yeah, we got another flat."

I got out and came around the car to look. That was bad. "But-but," I sputtered, "we don't have another spare."

"I know," he said. "I'll just have to call the rental company to come out and bring us another car."

"Seriously?" I said.

"Well, I was going to have to do that anyway, considering we can't drive around on a spare forever."

I guessed that was true.

Naelen got out his phone, and he paced in front of the car as he spoke to the someone at the rental company.

I climbed in the driver's seat and turned the car off. I took the keys out of the ignition and dropped them on the front seat.

By that time, Naelen was off the phone.

"It's going to take a while," he said.

"How long?" I said.

"A while," he said. "They couldn't give me an estimate. See, to come out here, they'd need two people and two cars. One to drive the car they're going to leave us and one to drive another car for them to get back in. They also said they'd call a tow truck for this car." He gestured. "But they seemed to think that no one would be able to tow it until tomorrow morning at the earliest."

I made a face. "They aren't going to leave us here overnight, are they?"

"No," he said. "Of course not."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course," he said again, but he didn't sound as sure as he had the first time.

I sighed heavily.

"We won't be here overnight," he said. "I promise you, I'll find some way to get out of here before then."

* * *

But the sun started to set and there was no sign of anyone coming.

Naelen tried to call the rental company back, but there was no answer, and the answering machine said that they had closed at five.

I tried to call a cab from Highpoint, but Highpoint didn't have a cab service.

We weren't sure what we were going to do. We thought we might have to walk back into town, but we weren't sure how long that would take.

And then I saw a light inside the house. It winked on and then winked off, like someone signaling with a flashlight.

"Did you see that?" I asked Naelen.

"See what?" he said.

"Some kids are probably up there. It's probably party time," I said.

"Then why didn't we see their cars pull up?" said Naelen.

"Maybe they parked somewhere else," I said, heading toward the house. "Maybe they'll know how to get back into town." I raised my voice. "Hello!"

Naelen grabbed my arm, stopping me. "Hey," he said in a fierce whisper. "We don't know what's up there. Don't yell at it."

And just like that, fear went through me again, like it had back in the barn. I hated the fear, hated being ruled by it. I wasn't going to let myself feel it this time. I was going to fight it.

So, I shook Naelen off. "Don't be silly," I said, but my voice was quiet now.

"What exactly did you see?" He was still whispering.

"A light," I said. "Like a flashlight." I was whispering too.

"Well, I don't see anything now."

"It was in that window," I said. "All the way at the top of the house. What'd you see when you went looking in there?"

"I never got to the top level. That rogue flew out, and I went to shift."

"Oh," I said. "Well, I think we should check it out." Because cowering in fear was dumb. It was beneath me.

"Maybe we just... wait," he said.

"You're not afraid of going in the house, are you?"

He scoffed. "Afraid? No."

I started forward. "Let's go."

"Damn it, Clarke." But he followed me.

The steps to the porch were rickety and they groaned when I stepped onto them. I remembered earlier, thinking that the wood was probably too rotted to hold much weight. I needed to go carefully. I tested the next step before making it, gripping the wooden railing as I did so.

The wood felt rough under my palm. I thought about splinters, pictured the wood slicing into my fingers.

And then, before I could help it, I pictured the porch erupting in shards of thick wood, each of them piercing me. My arms, my legs, my stomach, my chest, my—

What the hell was wrong with me? I shook myself.

I swallowed hard and then took another step, testing the wood ahead of me first. It creaked.

There was an answering creak behind me. I jumped.

I turned. Geez. It was only Naelen.

"Do you see anything?" he whispered.

"Shh," I said. I went up the last step and found myself on the porch. The old planks of wood stretched out on either side of me. It was dark, and I could see the shadows of dead leaves and old, discarded beer cans littering the floor.

There, ahead, a hole in the porch, wood broken away. Tall grass grew up through it.

I gave the hole a wide berth, stepping around it. I didn't want to go through the porch. Hell, I bet there were snakes living under there. That grass was tall, and snakes liked warm dark places. I could just imagine falling down through there with a crash. And then feeling the smooth scaliness of one slithering over my foot.

I shivered. Goosebumps rose on my arms in spite of the fact it was still warm outside.

The door to the house stood in front of me. The screen door was hanging off its hinges, and the door inside was ajar a few inches. Inside, there was only blackness.

I inched forward, afraid to put too much weight on my feet.

The wood moaned under my weight.

I shuffled toward the door.

Finally, I made it there, and I reached out to touch it. My fingers brushed the old wood, and I was hit with an old, musty smell.

I hesitated.

And then I pushed the door open.

It creaked on its hinges.

Inside, I could see nothing but pitch dark. I didn't want to walk forward into that blackness. But Naelen was behind me, and if I didn't do it, he'd know that I was afraid, and I couldn't lose face in front of him.

I took a deep breath.

Bad idea. The musty air invaded my lungs, and I coughed.

And then I heard a noise from within. Something coming forward on heavy feet. Footsteps against the floor.

Abruptly, the door opened and something came out. Something with wings.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

"Clarke?"

I had my knife out, internally cursing myself for not bringing my bow and arrows along.

But the thing with wings wasn't a dragon. It was a gargoyle, and I recognized him. "Logan?" I gasped.

"What are you doing here?" he said.

"What am I doing here?" I said. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm crashing here, because I couldn't scrounge together the cash for the hotel in town, and my credit cards are maxed out," he said.

"But why here? Why Highpoint?"

"I'm working a job," he said.

"Um," said Naelen. "You two know each other?"

I held up a finger in Naelen's face, still looking at Logan. "What kind of job?"

"Nasty vampire nest," he said. "Typical drill. They set up, offer to erase people's debts for a little blood, but the people end up blood slaves, compelled and forced to feed the vamps until the vamps get bored. The head bad guy's called Cunningham. Ronan Cunningham."

"Mr. Cunningham?" I said. "We met him last night. He's no vampire. He's something more powerful. He compelled Naelen."

Logan seemed to notice Naelen for the first time. "Oh, hello," he said.

"Hi," said Naelen.

The two of them looked each other over.

"No offense, but who is this guy?" said Logan. Then he creased his brow. "Wait a second. Is he the reason you shut me down back in Sea City?"

"Shut him down?" said Naelen, whose brow was also pretty creased. "Who is this, Clarke?"

I held up both hands. "Both of you, stop." I took a deep breath. I turned to Logan. "I told you I had a job. He's the person who hired me. His name is Naelen Spencer." Then I turned to Naelen. "Naelen, this is Logan. He's, um, a childhood friend. And, uh, a colleague, sort of."

"You're a dragon slayer?" said Naelen.

"Among other things," said Logan, offering Naelen his hand. "Uh, nice to meet you."

"Yeah," said Naelen, shaking his hand.

"So, what's your job?" said Logan, letting go of Naelen and turning back to me. "You after Cunningham too?"

"We're looking for Naelen's missing sister," I said.

"Okay," said Logan. "Uh... why are you doing that?"

"Because she's missing," I said.

"Yeah, but it's not really your thing," he said.

"She might be a rogue," I said.

"Oh," said Logan. He turned back to Naelen. "Shit. I'm sorry. So, uh, you're a dragon?"

"That's right," said Naelen.

"And Cunningham compelled you." Logan walked across the porch and paused on the steps. "That doesn't make any sense," he said to himself.

"If he was crashing here, why didn't we see him earlier?" said Naelen.

"He's stone during the day," I said, "and you didn't go upstairs." I raised my voice. "Logan, do you have a flashlight or something. I thought I saw—"

"Damned thing ran out of batteries," he said. "Came on, and then went right off. Why?"

"I was just making sure that what I saw earlier was you."

He walked down the steps and alighted on the lawn.

I went after him, and Naelen followed me.

Logan looked up. "So what are you doing out here?"

"I just told you," I said.

"You explained why you're at Highpoint, but not why you're out at this house," he said.

"Well, we were following a lead," I said. "But then we got two flat tires, and we were waiting for the rental people to show up, but we don't know if they're coming—"

"They're coming," said Naelen.

"Well, you need a ride back into town?" he said. "My truck's parked over that hill over there."

"I'm sure the rental company will be here soon," said Naelen. "There's no problem with waiting a little longer."

"Okay, so he's going to wait, then," said Logan. "But that doesn't mean you have to, Clarke. How about I give you a ride, at least?" He smiled.

Naelen cleared his throat. "Actually, I guess it doesn't really make any sense to sit out here in the dark when they probably closed at five o'clock."

"No, it doesn't," I said.

"So, you both want a ride?" said Logan.

"Please," I said.

* * *

There was a knock on the adjoining room of my hotel room. I went over to open the door. "Hey," I said.

"You never told me about this Logan person," said Naelen.

"Well, I didn't think he'd show up here," I said. "I mean talk about your weird coincidences."

"Who is he?"

"I told you who he was."

"You said you didn't have a boyfriend."

"I don't," I said, folding my arms over my chest. "Why do you care?"

"I don't," said Naelen, straightening up. "I'm curious, that's all."

"Well, maybe it's none of your business."

"It is if you lied to me."

"He's not my boyfriend."

"So, what was that comment?" said Naelen. "About your shutting him down?"

I squinted at him. "Why did you hone in on that? Besides, that could mean anything."

"You're involved with him." Naelen lifted his chin as if daring me to contradict him.

I sighed. "It's complicated."

He rolled his eyes. "Seriously?"

"Not that kind of 'it's complicated,'" I said. "Not like a Facebook status. It seriously is complicated. We used to be together. But we're not anymore. And it never really worked anyway, because we grew up together, so we're practically like brother and sister."

"Yeah, he's definitely eyeing you with a brotherly gaze there."

"What do you care?" I said again.

He looked down at his shoes. "I don't," he said again.

We were quiet.

"Okay, then," I said. "Well, if that's all...?" I moved to shut the adjoining door.

"Wait," he said. "Where is he now? What's he going to do about Mr. Cunningham?"

"I don't know," I said.

And there was a knock at my door. My other door. The one that led to the hall. I looked at the door and then back at Naelen. "I should probably get that."

"Okay," he said.

I started to shut the adjoining door.

Naelen caught the door and kept me from closing it. He pushed his way into my hotel room.

"What are you doing?" I said.

There was another knock at the door.

"Answer the door," he said, folding his arms over his chest.

"Go back into your room," I said.

He didn't move.

I glared at him. "You can't just come into my room," I said.

"Technically, I'm paying for this room."

My jaw dropped. "If it's going to be like that, keep your damned room. I'll be on the next bus back to Sea City. You can find your sister on your own."

There was another knock on the door. "Hey, Clarke, you in there?" called the unmistakable voice of Logan.

"I knew it was him," said Naelen, narrowing his eyes.

"What is your problem?" I said to Naelen. "Why are you being like this?"

"Clarke, I can hear you in there," called Logan.

Letting out a frustrated noise, I stalked across the room and opened the door to let Logan in. "Hi," I said, holding the door wide open so that he had a view of Naelen.

"Oh," said Logan. "Am I interrupting something?"

"Just me trying to kick Naelen out of my room," I said through clenched teeth.

Logan strode into the room, holding out his hand to Naelen. "Hey, good to see you again."

Grudgingly, Naelen shook hands with him. "Good to see you too."

"Any word from the rental company?"

"Yes, they did make it out there," said Naelen. "They've brought us a new car to the hotel."

"That was nice of them," said Logan.

"Well, I am paying them well for their service."

"Ah." Logan nodded. He turned to look at me, raising his eyebrows.

I glowered at him. "What are you doing here, Logan?" Right now, I basically wanted them both out of my hair. I felt very stressed out for some reason. If they would both shut up, maybe I could figure out why.

"I was going to ask you if you wanted to grab some dinner," said Logan.

Oh, Jesus, he wasn't giving up, was he? He was still trying to get with me, even though I had told him that I couldn't—

"That's funny," said Naelen, "I was here to actually ask you the same question, Clarke. Whether or not you wanted to get some food."

Logan smirked. "All right, then. So, who do you want to go with, Clarke?"

I looked back and forth between them. "Seriously?"

"Let's not be silly," said Naelen. "We all need to eat. Let's all go eat together. At Moreau's. Certainly Cunningham can't have bought it out every night of the week."

"Moreau's, huh?" said Logan. "That's that fancy place." He looked down at his clothes, which were his typical beat-up t-shirt and jean shorts. Being living stone, he didn't have a lot of temperature fluctuation, and probably would have been happy without any clothes at all, but he put stuff on as a concession to propriety. "I don't know. I'm trying to avoid unnecessary expenditures this trip."

"My treat, of course," said Naelen. "If you'd rather not accompany us, that's fine."

Logan's nostrils flared. "Look, I don't know what your deal is, man, but—"

"Logan," I said, giving him a look. Logan had a temper sometimes.

"My 'deal' is that I'm inviting you to dinner," said Naelen, giving Logan a saccharine smile. "Are you coming or not?"

"Fine," said Logan, his voice hard. "Thank you very much." But he didn't sound grateful.

* * *

Logan was staring at all the forks on the table.

I was fairly confused by them too. This place really was pretty fancy.

"Start outside and work your way in," said Naelen, smiling at me.

"Okay," I said, picking up the outermost fork to start in on my salad. "Thanks."

Logan fiddled with his fork but didn't pick it up. He wasn't much for salad. "So, can you two tell me what you know about Cunningham? You said you met him, right?"

"We did," I said, "but only for a few minutes. Only long enough for him to compel Naelen. Are you sure he's a vampire?"

"Positive," said Logan. "I came out here on a tip like anything else. Some woman said she spent five years of her life as Cunningham's blood slave."

"Blood slave?" said Naelen. "Never heard that term."

"It's not an official term or anything," said Logan. "It's just kind of what we call them. Vampires have a standard scheme. They offer something in trade for blood, and they often do make good on their word."

"It's common for vamps to pay off debts," I said. "If a human gets in bad with gambling or something, then vampires offer to pay off their debts in exchange for blood."

"Only they're not very specific about how much blood," said Logan. "Since they use compulsion, it's generally until they get bored with whatever human they've got under their thrall. It could be years. Even decades."

"That's horrible," said Naelen. "Why do they do that, when it's easy enough to buy blood at the grocery store? Hell, they even have it at convenience stores in Sea City."

"Animal blood," said Logan.

"Cold blood," I said. "From a dead source."

"So, get a pig and keep it around to drink from," said Naelen.

"Can't compel a pig," said Logan.

Naelen's lips curled in distaste. "Well, this can't be legal. Why don't the police do anything about it?"

"Human police?" I said. "What would they do? Most of them won't even carry a talisman. Lots of them are wary of magic and they'd rather not tangle with magical creatures."

"So... what? You run around freeing these people?" said Naelen to Logan.

"Among other things," said Logan. "I take care of problems."

"Why?" said Naelen.

Logan shrugged. "Someone's got to. I'm a gargoyle, so I'm strong, and I'm impervious to flame, and I heal fast. Unlike most gargoyles, I don't have a family, so I got no responsibilities. Seems like I'm a good fit."

"But... how do you do it?" said Naelen. "People don't pay you for rescuing them, I don't suppose?"

Logan laughed. "Of course it's all about money to the dragon."

"Please," said Naelen. "Don't be that way. Dragons don't hoard wealth. That's a myth."

"Most dragons I know of are filthy stinking rich," said Logan.

"Well, correlation doesn't equal causation," said Naelen.

"They inherit the money, Logan," I muttered.

"I didn't inherit my money," said Naelen.

"No, right, you toiled and toiled, working your fingers to the bone," I said sarcastically.

Naelen pressed his lips into a firm line but didn't say anything.

Logan cleared his throat. "So, maybe I change the subject here?" He grinned, clearly meaning to lighten the mood.

But neither Naelen or I cracked a smile.

"I could use your help, Clarke," said Logan. "With Cunningham."

"Like I told you, we don't know anything about him," I said. "But he seems to have this town wrapped around his little finger. You get the impression that people are quite frightened of him."

"More than just info," said Logan. "If this guy is as powerful as you say he is, then going into his nest solo might be too much, even for me. I could stand some backup."

"Clarke is working for me," said Naelen.

"I can speak for myself," I said.

They both turned to look at me, waiting.

"Well," I said, "I am sort of working for Naelen."

We were interrupted at that moment by a waiter bringing out our entrees. We'd all gotten different dishes. Naelen had baked camembart. Logan had ordered hachis parmentier after the waiter had described it as a lot like shepherd's pie. I had gotten magret de canard, but only because Naelen said it was good. I had never really eaten much duck, but it looked pretty delicious all plated up. The waiter put it down in front of each of us and refilled our water glasses.

"More wine?" asked the waiter.

"Two bottles," said Naelen.

"Geez," I said. He really drank a lot, didn't he?

For several minutes afterward, we didn't say anything as we were all digging in to our food. We chewed. We swallowed.

"Good?" said Naelen to me.

"Yeah, very good," I said.

"I think mine's bit dry," Naelen said. He turned to Logan. "Yours?"

"Fine," said Logan, putting down his fork. "Look, Clarke, I get that you're working on something else, but do you even have any leads on this guy's sister?"

"We know she was in this town," I said. "But nothing more specific yet."

"So, then you're not really busy tonight, are you?" said Logan.

"Tonight?" said Naelen. "After the day we've had?"

Logan glanced at him. "You. Have you shifted lately?"

"Today," said Naelen, "not that I see how that's your business."

"So you've got magic, then," said Logan. "I could use you too."

"Me?" Naelen drew back.

The waiter brought the two bottles of wine and started to uncork them.

Naelen stopped him, and then looked back at Logan. "All right. I'll help out with this vampire, save the blood slaves. Why not?" He turned back to the waiter. "Two bottles of wine won't be constructive for the activities we've got planned for the evening. But I'm happy to buy the bottles and take them along if that would be possible?"

"As you wish, sir," said the waiter and scurried off.

Logan smirked at Naelen. "You sure you're up for this?

"Positive," said Naelen.

I rolled my eyes. Nothing like two guys in a pissing match. What the hell?

* * *

"All right, here's what I know," said Logan as we crouched behind some shrubbery about fifteen feet from a big house that could only be termed a mansion.

It was a relatively new construction, three stories, with big pillars in front and an enormous picture window taking up practically the entire second story. We could see through the window to a gleaming chandelier inside. It must have one of those high-ceilinged foyers.

"Ronan Cunningham heads up a nest here in this house," said Logan. "There are three other vampires. Two women and one man. The man's name is Edmund Stevens. The two women are Eloise Green and Mara Reid. This house is their hideaway and their lure. They get people here with various empty promises, and it looks pretty and glitzy on the outside. But once they're in, they're stuck. Anyway, we should meet with very little resistance getting in."

"No guards or anything like that?" I said. "Not even humans compelled to be sentries?"

"Not that my source knew of," said Logan.

"So, where do we go in?"

"Not the front door, I hope," said Naelen.

Logan laughed. "Funny, Naelen."

"I wasn't trying to make a joke," said Naelen.

"Sure you were," said Logan. "At my expense. Anyway, there's a door that leads to the basement, there. It's underneath the back porch. Do you see it?" He pointed.

I squinted. "Yeah, I see it."

"We're going in there?" said Naelen.

"Yes," said Logan. "Hopefully, we'll sneak in without anyone seeing us. The object is to get as many of the people out as we can, so, Clarke, if you see people, I want you to pick them up and take them outside right away."

"What, while you two fight the vampires?" I said.

"That's the best way to do this," said Logan.

"No, it's not," I said. "Naelen has no idea how to fight anyone."

"Well, I've got this sword thing, haven't I?" said Naelen.

"That's a machete," said Logan.

"Just because I'm a girl—"

"It's nothing to do with your gender," said Logan. "But I'm a gargoyle and Naelen's a dragon shifter. You're only human. It will be better if you—"

"I have magic," I said, holding up the talisman around my neck, even though I had positively no idea how to do magic with it. "And I'm better with a machete than Naelen."

"I'll be fine," said Naelen.

"He breathes fire," said Logan.

"But—"

"What could you possibly say that tops that?" said Logan.

I huffed.

"All right," said Logan. "So, Clarke gets the people out. Naelen and I work on chopping off vamp heads. We do it quick, we do it clean."

"What if Cunningham compels you?" I said to Logan.

"I'm a gargoyle. I can't be compelled," said Logan.

"I'm a dragon. I can't be compelled either," said Naelen. "But I was compelled, apparently. When I try to remember it, I only remember a soft, male voice, and thinking how very much I agreed with him. After we left, though, I snapped out of it, and I couldn't figure how I'd changed my mind."

"If one of us gets compelled," said Logan. "Another person better be watching and get around Cunningham and chop his head off. That's all we can do. Anyway, we can't keep talking about this. We need to get in there and actually do something. Let's move."

I wasn't entirely sure we had a very good plan going on. It was pretty vague.

Logan was already starting to creep forward toward the door.

But that was the way Logan worked, after all. He liked to keep things loose. He said that making too detailed of a plan only led to panic, because in the moment, if things started to go off, it made everything so much harder. He said that there were always too many variables to predict. He preferred to react as the punches hit him.

Naelen went after him, impulsively, machete raised in the air. God, he was conspicuous. Someone needed to tell him that it might be possible to see that blade glinting in the light of a window or a streetlight.

I started after Naelen. I caught up to him and grabbed him by the arm.

He jumped, letting out a shrill noise.

I laughed, and then covered my mouth to stifle it.

"What?" Naelen said in a loud whisper.

"Lower your machete," I said to him.

Logan turned back to glare at us. "What's wrong with you?"

I shoved Naelen after Logan.

Naelen turned to look at me for a moment, half-confused, half-angry. But then he turned back and kept going forward.

We crossed the lawn in the darkness, sticking to the shadows, hugging trees and bushes and the outbuildings—a shed and a poolhouse.

This house had a pool. It was lit up with outdoor blue lights. Strings of them dangled from fence posts around the pool, giving it an otherworldly, cold glow.

In a few moments, we reached the door to the house.

Logan tried the knob, and it turned in his hands. I never did quite understand why people only locked their doors when they left their houses. When they were at home, they were actually vulnerable. I kept my apartment door locked at all times.

He eased the door open.

Inside the basement, it was dark.

We all entered quietly, tiptoeing.

I peered around as I got inside. The basement was finished. It was a rec room of sorts, with a pool table in one corner and a dart board hanging on the wall. There were several plush couches gathered around a large screen TV. Under our feet was thick, soft carpeting, but I couldn't make out the color without lights.

I shut the door behind me.

Logan was already across the room, next to the pool table, opening another door.

This one led to the rest of the basement, which wasn't completely done. It had been framed out with boards. All the outlines of the rooms were there. Someone had even run the electric cabling down. It was attached to some of the boards. But it was a work in progress.

The steps to the upstairs sat right in the middle of the house. A washer and dryer were tucked under them. Neither was in use, although the lights were on on the washer.

Suddenly, we heard a noise.

The door opened at the top of the steps.

Logan dove back inside the finished room.

I followed him, but Naelen stood there dumbly as the lights came on and someone began descending the steps.

I reached out to grab Naelen and pull him into the room, and I caught sight of a woman.

She didn't seem to see us.

I yanked us out of her view. Now, we were back in the finished rec room. But there was nowhere to hide in here. No closets to get in. No curtains to stand behind. We could maybe crouch behind the couches, but they weren't against a wall, so we'd be exposed if this woman came around the other side.

So, we just stood there, flattening ourselves against the wall and waiting. Listening.

We heard the sound of the washer opening. Clothes being dumped into the dryer. And then the dryer came on with a steady thump-thump-thump. There was something a little heavy in there. Maybe shoes. Maybe a rug. I couldn't be sure.

But it wasn't good, because it meant that we couldn't hear the woman go back up the steps.

We waited some more.

Finally, I caught Logan's gaze. I shrugged at him.

He shrugged back, pointing to his ear.

I nodded.

Slowly, carefully, he peeled himself away from the wall and craned his neck to look out the doorway.

Immediately, he was thrust backward, hurled through the air, propelled by magic. He landed flat on his back on the pool table.

The woman stood in the doorway, hands on her hips. "What the hell do you think you're doing here?"

Logan struggled to sit up. "One chance, Mara. Or is it Eloise? Release all the humans you're holding here, and I'll let you live."

She flicked her wrist. "Shut up."

Logan fell flat on the pool table again. He was stuck there.

Mara or Eloise turned to look at Naelen and me.

I dove forward, leading with my machete.

She pointed at the ceiling.

I slammed into it. Now I was stuck to the ceiling and looking at everything upside down.

Naelen flung out his arm, scrunching up his face as if he was concentrating really hard.

Mara-or-Eloise's feet came right out from beneath her. Naelen had used magic on her.

It must have startled her enough to lose her grip on her own power, because I came tumbling down from the ceiling. Instinctively, I tucked into a ball as I fell. When I hit, I rolled over.

It still hurt.

But I was on my feet in minutes.

Naelen stood over Mara-or-Eloise, holding her in place.

She pointed at one of the cues hanging near the pool table. It rose into the air and turned horizontal, like a javelin.

"Naelen!" I screamed. "Behind you."

He turned, gesturing with one hand, knocking the pool cue down just in time.

By this time, Logan was off the pool table and had come around behind Mara-or-Eloise. He stood over her head. "Could have been easy for you," he said.

She reached out with her hand, and probably her magic too—

But Logan brought down the machete in a wide, swinging arc.

And her head rolled away from her shoulders.

Naelen's eyes got wide. "Jesus," he breathed.

Logan ignored him, peering down at Mara-or-Eloise's body. "Huh," he said. "What's that?"

"You just cut her head off like nothing," said Naelen.

Logan knelt down and took a necklace off of Mara-or-Eloise's severed neck. He held it up.

It was a gold arrowhead pendant, dangling from a glittering, gold chain.

"It's an arrowhead," said Logan. "You should have it, Clarke."

"I'm not taking a trophy from a dead body," I muttered.

"Oh, come on," said Logan, dropping it into my palm. "She's not going to being using it anymore."

I shoved it in my pocket. I could argue with him about it, but there really wasn't time. If I tried to leave it here, he'd probably make a thing of it.

Naelen looked completely flummoxed.

Logan wiped his machete off on the plush couch. "One down," he said. "Three to go."

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

We all waited at the top of the stairs. Logan was first, his ear against the door, listening. He looked at us, holding up a finger.

Naelen moved his machete to his other hand.

I thought about trying to ditch the arrowhead while Logan wasn't paying attention. But then I figured it wasn't worth it. For better or worse, I had a dead vampire's necklace.

Sometimes Logan did crap like this, like taking jewelry off a dead body. It was macabre, and I wondered about him. I knew there was darkness in him, but sometimes it seemed to overshadow all of him. When I had told Naelen that things were complicated, I wasn't exaggerating.

But why was I thinking about this now?

This was the worst time to be preoccupied with thoughts of the past. It would serve me right if someone sneaked up on me from behind while I was contemplating all of this.

Just to be sure, I turned around to see if anyone was there.

Empty staircase.

I swallowed.

"Let's go," Logan whispered, pushing open the door.

Light spilled out as the door opened.

It was bright, and my eyes weren't ready for it. I looked away, flinging an arm up to protect my eyes.

We stepped into a brightly lit kitchen. There was an island in the middle, pots and pans hanging above it on a rack. A sink and a stainless steel refrigerator at one end. Miles of counter space. A dishwasher chugging next to the sink. The place was spotless, current, and sleek.

Logan dashed through the kitchen toward a darkened doorway.

Naelen and I went after him.

The minute we cleared the doorway, the first thing I saw was a chaise lounge covered in silk hangings. There was a girl sitting on it, wearing nothing but a small bikini. Her dark hair was up in a sloppy bun on her head. She had the vague look of the compelled in her eyes.

And I recognized her.

"Reign," said Naelen, running to her.

But Reign didn't even look up at the sound of her own name. She just sat there, gazing blankly into space.

Now, I could see that the room was far from empty. There were four or five other girls in here as well, all in bikinis, all dazed and out of it. Some of them were clutching towels. Maybe they were heading down to the pool for a swim.

But if so, they weren't doing it of their own volition.

"Logan," I said, "we need to get out of here."

Naelen had taken Reign by the shoulders. He was shaking her. "Snap out of it, sis. Come on!"

Mara-or-Eloise didn't have crazy compulsion, or she would have tried it on us. She had seen that Logan was a gargoyle, known it wouldn't work on him, and skipped right to telekinesis. I was figuring that only Cunningham could compel magical creatures. He'd obviously compelled Reign there, and she was a dragon.

So, if he'd compelled them, he was the one sending them to the pool.

And that meant he'd be along shortly.

"Get out of here?" said Logan.

Naelen hauled his sister up, one arm braced under her shoulders, the other under her knees. Carrying her like a child, he started back towards the kitchen. "Let's go."

Now, Reign seemed to wake up. "Where are you taking me?" She struggled in Naelen's arms. "I can't leave. He told me I can't leave."

"We have three more vampires to kill," said Logan.

"That's Naelen's sister," I said. "And she's a dragon. She's completely compelled. And Cunningham is on his way. He's going to find us here, and then he's going to compel us all."

Logan brandished his machete, turning in a circle, looking for Cunningham. "Damn it, Clarke, we can't leave yet."

"We'll come back," I said.

"We come back, we've lost the element of surprise," he said. "Why aren't you getting these girls out? That was your job, remember? Get the people out."

Reign was scratching Naelen's face and trying her best to wriggle out of his grasp. "I can't leave, I can't leave!" she was saying.

"Looks like it'll be real easy to get them out, Logan," I said.

Naelen clubbed Reign over the head with the hilt of his machete.

"Ow!" she shrieked.

"What are you doing?" I said.

"Trying to knock her unconscious," he said. "They made it look so easy in the movies."

"Yeah, well, in real life—" I broke off, because Cunningham had just appeared behind Naelen. He was standing in the kitchen wearing only a pair of swimming trunks. His chest was dusky and tan and accented by flecks of dark curly hair. He fixed me with his gaze.

I choked.

"What?" said Naelen.

"Have a seat," said Cunningham to me.

Oh, God, he was compelling me!

Naelen turned at the voice.

"Let go of the girl," said Cunningham to Naelen.

Naelen released Reign immediately.

Logan let out a roar, rushing Cunningham with his machete held high over his head.

"Stop moving," said Cunningham to Logan.

Logan froze.

Strangely, though, I had yet to sit down.

Cunningham noticed this at the same time as I did. He turned his gaze on me. "Sit down," he thundered.

I brandished my machete and ran for him.

He threw out his hand and his magic slammed into me.

And... I don't know, I sort of... absorbed it? Nothing happened.

Naelen raised his machete.

"Drop it," said Cunningham.

Naelen's machete clattered to the ground.

I used the second when Cunningham wasn't paying attention to me to hurl the machete at him. It soared through the air, end over end, tumbling in an arc...

Man, throwing a machete was not like shooting arrows.

And now that I'd thrown it, I wasn't even sure what the point of that was. I couldn't kill him unless I cut his head off and the chances of my cutting off his head by throwing the knife were—

The machete buried itself in Cunningham's shoulder.

He bellowed in anger and pain. He pulled the machete out and stared at his own blood. "What are you?" He looked up at me.

"I'm a dragon slayer," I said. And then I dove for Naelen's dropped machete.

Cunningham pointed at it, raising it off the ground with magic.

But I seized the hilt, and the minute I touched it, his magic seemed to fizzle out.

Cunningham was bleeding from his shoulder. The blood was dripping down over his bare chest and onto his swimming trunks.

I held out the machete. "Give us the girl." I pointed at Reign.

"I can't leave," said Reign, shaking her head.

Cunningham laughed. "Don't be ridiculous, dragon slayer."

"Okay," I said, gesturing with the point of the machete. "Okay, then..." It was me and a machete against Cunningham. For some reason, his magic wasn't working on me, but—

"What's going on?" said a male voice.

I whirled. Another vampire in the doorway across the room. Probably Edmund Stevens or whatever his name was. Now, it was me against two vampires? I turned back to Cunningham. "How about this? We're leaving." I grabbed Naelen by the arm and pushed him until he thudded into Logan.

"Yes," said Cunningham, who was now clutching his bleeding shoulder. "Leave. Get out of my sight."

And Naelen and Logan started shuffling forward, heading out of the room. Cunningham had compelled them to leave, then.

I went after them.

"Remember that I have given you this mercy," Cunningham called after us. But there was note of panic to his voice, and I could tell that the fact that I wasn't affected by his powers was freaking him out. Probably making him act erratically. Probably the only reason we were escaping with our lives.

* * *

"I can't believe you just had us walk out of there," said Logan. "You had him."

We were all three back in my hotel room.

Naelen was sitting on the bed, head in his hands. "I had Reign in my arms, and I let her go. How did I let her go?"

"Clarke, you stabbed Cunningham, and then you just gave up," said Logan.

"I was on my own against two vampires," I said. "And I was pretty sure we were all going to die, so the fact that I got us out of their breathing should count for something."

Logan buried his hands in his hair. "What the hell happened?"

"I told you he could compel us," I said.

"But how can he do that?" said Logan. "How the hell can he do that?"

"What happened to Reign?" said Naelen. "How did she end up like that?"

"It was like whatever came out of his mouth just seemed like a really good idea," said Logan. "But deep down, I wanted to cut his head off."

"She must have been there the whole time," said Naelen. "She's under his thrall. And did you see how she was dressed? God, what is he doing to her in there?"

"What about the fact that he couldn't compel me?" I said. "Are we ignoring that?"

They both turned to me, and they were both quiet.

"Maybe it's your talisman," said Logan. "You've got a talisman. We don't."

"This thing?" I pulled it out of my shirt from where it hung around my neck. Talismans needed to be touching skin to work. "It's old, and it's barely magical."

And then we all seemed to have the same thought at the same time.

"The arrowhead," I said, yanking it out of my pocket.

Both of them pressed close.

Logan took the arrowhead from me, turned it over in his hands. "This thing is gold."

"Let me see it," said Naelen.

Logan handed it over.

Naelen ran his fingertip over it. "You're right. It's not made from any dragon parts that I can see."

I snatched the thing back. "Well, maybe inside it. If we crack it open?"

"It's solid," said Naelen.

Objects could not be imbued with magic. The only way to make magic was to make it from dragon parts. So, if this arrowhead didn't come from a dragon in some way, shape, or form, then it wasn't magic.

"So, if it's not magic, it can't stop magic?" I said. "What if, um, what if it's seeded with dragon sacrifice? Like the magical prisons? That would make it block magic right?"

Naelen took it back from me. "It sucks magic out, actually, I think." He looked uncomfortable. I guessed if the most powerful magic on earth came from ritually killing your kind, it might make you twitchy.

"It's a horrible, cold feeling," said Logan.

"You been in a magic prison?" said Naelen, eyeing him.

Logan shrugged. "Once. I got out of it."

Huh. I hadn't known that Logan had been locked up.

"So, this isn't dragon sacrifice?" I said.

"No," said Logan. "If it was, you'd feel it, Naelen. All the way down in your bones. Sucks you dry."

Naelen grimaced.

"So, what is it?" I said.

"It's not the arrowhead," said Logan. "It's got to be you somehow."

"Me?" I said. "How could that be? If I could block magic, I would have been able to do it before. Besides, I couldn't block that other vampire's magic in the basement."

"Something about you and Cunningham, then," said Logan.

"That's insane," I said. "There's nothing special about me."

"Now, that's not true," said Naelen.

"Definitely not true," said Logan.

The two men glanced at each other and then away.

"Whatever," I said, rolling my eyes.

"You're... quite extraordinary," said Naelen, and there was a little catch in his voice.

I turned to him sharply.

Logan did too. Then he looked at me. His nostrils flared.

"I don't have any magic," I said.

"Well, you have something," said Naelen. "Must have. Why else would this be happening?"

Logan shifted on his feet. "Look, you don't really know anything about her."

Naelen raised his eyebrows. "I've been working with her for several days now, and—"

"Days?" said Logan. "Do you have any idea how long I've known Clarke? I know her very well."

"Logan." My voice was a warning.

He ignored me. "You just march in here, throwing your money around and buying expensive bottles of wine, and then you can't even— You completely abandoned the plan back there. You picked up your sister and—"

"I'm here for Reign," said Naelen. "If you think I'm not going to do everything in my power to—"

"You shouldn't... be here," said Logan in a choked, agonized voice. His wings were trembling, a sure sign that he was losing control.

"Logan, he's the whole reason I'm here," I said. "I'm working for him. That's all."

"Right," said Logan, and his wings shook harder. "That's all. God damn it, Clarke, you can't expect me to watch this."

"Watch what?" said Naelen, his lips curling into a smile.

"Shut up," Logan snarled, turning on Naelen.

Naelen's eyes flashed. "Careful, gargoyle. You might not want to provoke me."

"Oh? Why's that? You think I can't take you? Should I remind you that my species was created to fight off dragons?"

"Stop it," I said.

Both of them looked at me.

I walked over to Naelen and held out my hand. "Arrowhead."

He put it back in my hand.

I shoved it in the pocket of my travel bag. "Maybe we should take a little break? Get some sleep. We'll meet for breakfast in the morning."

"The morning?" said Logan.

"Oh," I said. How had I forgotten that Logan would be stone in the morning?

"You know if you don't want me around, I wish you'd say so," Logan said, and his face twisted. He was hurt.

I looked away. I couldn't handle that expression of such naked pain. It hit me too, making it hard to catch my breath. But he had hurt me before, and I didn't owe him anything.

"Nothing? Really, Clarke?" said Logan. "Coward."

I looked up at him.

He lifted his chin, glowering at me. Then he stalked out of the room.

Naelen and I both watched him go.

The door banged closed behind him.

"Well," said Naelen. "He obviously hasn't gotten the message that things are over between you."

"Not for lack of my telling him," I muttered.

"I do still have those bottles of wine, if you—"

"No," I said. "You should go, too."

"Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to—"

"I need to be alone."

* * *

After they left, I paced the room for nearly a half an hour, going over everything that had happened. But I couldn't figure out why I was so extraordinary to fight off Cunningham. I didn't have any brainwaves, so eventually, I collapsed on my bed and turned on the TV.

I flipped through the channels for a bit and finally settled on some ridiculous reality show about little girl gymnasts and their crazy mothers. I fell asleep watching it.

When I woke up, the television was still on, but there was someone in the room with me.

I felt under my pillow for the knife that I always kept there. With my hand around its reassuring hilt, I felt a little better.

But I could see this dark shadow moving through the room. I could hear him breathing.

He was turning off the television set. And he had... wings?

"Logan?" I said in a sleep-ravaged voice.

"Hey, Clarke," he said. "Sorry to wake you."

"I nearly stabbed you." I showed him my knife.

"Sorry," he said again.

I flipped on the bedside lamp and sat up. "This is the worst booty call ever. And I'm not sleeping with you."

"That's not why I'm here," he said. But he sat down on the bed next to me and touched the sleeve of my nightshirt. "This the little t-shirt with the Smurfs on it?"

"No," I said, glaring at him.

"I like that one. It's see-through."

"Stop it, Logan. I mean it."

He rubbed his forehead. "Clarke, you can't actually be into that rich pussy of a dragon."

"Hey," I said. "It is offensive to use a name for female genitalia to imply that someone's a wimp."

"Sorry," he said again. "But he is a wimp."

"I don't think he is. He's just... not as experienced as us."

"Oh, come on, Clarke, you prefer him to me?"

"No," I said. "I'm not into him. Nothing is going on between Naelen and me."

"Well, I don't think he got the memo, because the way he looks at you..."

"That's just the way he is. He flirts with anything female. It's nothing. It means nothing."

"Something's changed," he said, and he got that hurt look again. "Something's different between us."

"You're not even supposed to be here." I glared at him. "You wormed your way into this job—"

"I just helped you find the damned girl you were looking for," he said.

"That was a lucky coincidence," I said. Although, really, we were idiots for not having seen it. Ronan Cunningham was obviously the Ronald-or-something that had thrown the party that Reign had gone to. And people had seen her around town as one of his compelled drones. She had never been a rogue—or even in danger of becoming one. We'd been completely off base. "And anyway, we found her, but we can't get to her."

"Well, that's why I'm here."

"What, you have an idea to get her?" I said.

"I have a lead on something to help us with Cunningham," he said. "I should have followed up on it before coming down here, but I was cocky, and you were—"

"Me? What do I have to do with it?"

"I wanted to see you in Sea City, and you ran away from me."

"You didn't want to see me. You wanted to bang me."

"Which would involve looking at you, yeah?"

"Logan Gray, I am going to stab you." I reached for my knife.

"Don't," he said, sighing. "Look, it just... you turning me down, watching you with that jackass? It's all putting me in a bad mood."

"Oh, is it?" I made my voice sickly sweet. "Well, imagine what kind of bad mood I've been in every time I woke up to find you not next to me in bed."

He hung his head.

I sighed heavily. "What's this lead?"

"Well, it's not here," he said. "I'm going off to check it out."

"You're leaving?"

"I'm here to say goodbye," he said.

"Well, that's a first."

"Clarke, damn it, you know that I never mean to run off like that. It's only that I get so..."

"Don't," I said. "You are what you are. And I'll always care about you. You know that. I only wish you would stop trying to make it into anything else."

His jaw twitched. "Well, anyway, I'll be back. Once I figure this out, I swear, I'll be back down here, and we'll take down Cunningham and the rest of the vampires together. Until then, you just sit tight."

"What? Just hang here twiddling my thumbs? I don't think so."

"You ran away from him earlier today," said Logan. "You going to face him again without me?'

"Maybe," I said. "Maybe you'll find that lead, but it won't matter, because I'll already have taken care of everything."

"Don't get yourself killed," he said.

"You have no faith in me at all, do you?"

His voice grew quiet. "If I lost you, I think it would break me."

I felt a lump grow in my throat. "You bastard. You already have lost me. You lost me because you always leave me. If I was really so important to you—"

"Clarke." He seized me suddenly, pressing his lips against mine, and it was like the air exploded in lights and sparks.

My body sprang to life, my sensitive parts suddenly hot and eager. I opened my mouth to him.

His tongue claimed me. His hands pushed aside the covers to my bed, exposing my night shirt.

I gasped against his lips.

His hands were on my bare thighs, traveling higher.

I pulled away. "Stop," I breathed.

"Clarke," he murmured, stopping his movement but not removing his hands. "I want you so badly."

"No," I said in a ragged voice.

He pulled back. "No?" It was as if he couldn't believe it.

"You don't get to do this to me again," I said, my voice growing thick with tears. "Go away, Logan. Go far away. I don't want anything from you."

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

After that, I couldn't sleep.

I was angry. Just so livid with him. How dare he kiss me like that? And how dare my stupid body betray me like that? How dare it respond to him?

Because he was right. I did want him. I wanted him. I always wanted him.

Stupid, stupid, stupid body.

I rolled around in bed for a while, trying to think of something else, anything else besides Logan and how confusing he was.

To distract myself, I tried to think of how it was I'd resisted Cunningham's compulsion. I still couldn't come up with anything.

But then I started to think that it didn't matter. Whatever I could do, it worked. I didn't want to stay here, waiting around for Logan, and I didn't know how much longer I wanted to keep working with Naelen. There was only so much of him that I could even take. He was such a terrible flirt. It was nauseating.

Maybe it would be a good idea to take on Cunningham on my own. I could get back Reign and end this whole mess. Cunningham would be out of the way, and I could go back to Sea City.

Sure, it might be dangerous, but I thought I could handle it. And if it worked, everything would end up so much better.

I sneaked into Naelen's room to get the keys to the rental car. I went in through the adjoining rooms.

I half-thought he'd wake up and talk me out of doing this crazy thing, but he was sleeping like the dead.

I took the car and drove back out to the house.

I decided it wasn't a great idea to go in the same door that we'd gone in before. I didn't want to go through the front door either. I was going to walk around the house until I found another door. There had to be one.

But when I got there—car parked out of sight, walking in on foot—I saw that Cunningham was out in the pool with several of the girls. Apparently, he wasn't going to let a little thing like our impromptu visit mess up his swim time. It was cold outside—not very, very cold, but it wasn't a hot summer night or anything like that.

As I approached the pool, I saw that the girls were shivering in their bikinis.

Cunningham had his head buried in one of their necks.

This was my chance.

I would get him while feeding.

So I took off at a run. I had both my bow and arrows and my machete with me. I figured the more weapons, the better. I clambered through the fence surrounding the pool, raising the machete over my shoulder.

Cunningham turned.

I swung the machete anyway.

He held out one hand.

I froze.

He'd used magic on me. And the magic had worked.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

Right about then, I basically wanted to do nothing other than get up and run the other direction and pretend that I'd never had this stupid, crazy idea in the first place.

But that ship had sailed. Here I was, too stupid to live, and now I was going to die for my idiocy. He was going to kill me in three, two, on—

Cunningham furrowed his brow. "Drop your weapons."

Great idea. I dropped the machete, dropped the bow, took off my quiver of arrows. Oh, crap. He'd just compelled me, and it had worked on me.

I cringed. What if he compelled me to hurt myself? What if he compelled me to use the machete on myself? Oh, God, how had I ended up here again? I should have known better than this. I should have really known better than this.

He approached me. "I don't understand."

"Me either," I said in a squeaky voice. "I thought I was extraordinary."

He snatched me by the chin and peered into my eyes.

"Let go of me," I said, and I took a step backwards, out of his grasp. Actually, what was I doing? I could run. I should. I took off at a run.

I got about three steps.

"Stop," he called in a cold voice.

I stopped. "But you aren't even looking in my eyes. You have to look into my eyes to compel me. That's how compulsion works." Of course, this wasn't regular compulsion. But still. It had to follow some kind of rules, didn't it?

"Turn around and come back here," said Cunningham.

I did as he asked. "Don't kill me," I said. "I know you would want to, considering I was attacking you with a machete and all, but really, I'm too young to die, and I'm only here because things are really complicated with my ex, and he kissed me, and I went temporarily insane, and I thought I could stop you on my own, but clearly whatever happened earlier was a fluke, and—"

"Stop talking," he said.

I did, gratefully. Apparently, when I was afraid for my life, I babbled. This wasn't something that I particularly wanted to know about myself.

"Hold out your wrist," he said.

I did. I couldn't do anything but obey him. It was even somewhat pleasant to. Everything he said simply seemed like such a great idea.

He bared his fangs.

I shivered.

He burrowed them in my wrist.

I whimpered. It hurt. Not a lot, but it wasn't pleasant.

He let go of me, dropping my wrist. "Nothing. You're nothing. Not a dragon, not a vampire, not even some kind of human-looking drake."

I clutched my wrist. It was still bleeding. Ow, ow, ow. It hurt worse now than it had when he had his teeth in me.

He shook his head at me. "Why couldn't I compel you before?"

I didn't say anything. I wasn't going to do anything unless I was forced. I wondered if trying to run again would be a really stupid idea. Honestly, I wasn't usually like this when it came to dangerous situations. When I faced dragons down, I was cool and collected. I liked to think of myself as tough.

Of course, rogue dragons were totally different. They were stupid. They weren't capable of strategy or speech or anything other than blind attack. And I was good at killing them. I'd had a lot of practice.

But this? Facing down a vampire who stripped away all my defenses? It was terrifying.

"Answer me," he said in an imperious voice. He was actually kind of attractive, that was the hell of it. He was very sure of himself, smooth and suave, and I wanted to make him happy. Or was that simply the compulsion?

"I don't know," I said.

He cocked his head to one side. "Why did you come here in the first place?"

I didn't speak.

He sighed. "It's going to be like pulling teeth with you, isn't it?"

"Well," I said. "The way I figure it, if there's stuff from me that you need to know, then you're probably not going to kill me. So, keeping it to myself is probably the best plan if I want to keep breathing."

He chuckled. "I'm not going to kill you."

"No?"

"Did I try to kill you earlier this evening? No. I let you go, didn't I?"

"Yeah," I said, "but I figured that you only did that because you were confused and bleeding and stuff."

He gestured around himself at the women in bikinis. "I don't tend to kill people. You know, it's a common misconception that vampires want people dead, but we don't. We like drinking blood. So, we like to keep people alive for that reason."

"Yeah, but... we attacked you," I said. Why was I pointing this out?

"You did." He nodded. "That's true. Yes, now that I've considered that, you're right. I think I will have to kill you." He bared his fangs and lunged at me.

I screamed. I tried to run backwards, but I slipped on the slick concrete around the pool. And then I toppled into the water with a splash.

When I surfaced, sputtering, Cunningham was laughing.

I treaded water, unsure of what to do. This water was freezing.

"I was joking," said Cunningham. "I'm not going to kill you. You have the arrowhead."

I froze. The arrowhead was the key? Well, obviously, it had to be. When I didn't have it, and Eloise-or-Mara did, magic affected me. When I did have it, I was impervious to Cunningham's tricks. Of course it was the damned arrowhead. God, had I drunk a bottle of stupid this evening or what?

I wasn't treading water anymore, so I was sinking. I started to kick my legs again and popped back up to the surface of the water.

"Tell me your name, and tell me the truth," said Cunningham.

"Clarke," I said in a quiet voice.

"Clarke," he said. "That's a boy's name, isn't it?"

"It can be a girl's," I said.

He mused over that. "I don't think so. I really don't."

I swam over to the side of the pool and held on. There. That was better. My legs had been getting tired.

"Clarke," he said again. "Well, you're a bit of a pain in the ass, Clarke. Rather a large pain in the ass, really. You'd better get out of the pool."

I did, hauling myself up. In the night air, now sopping, I was even colder. I shivered. My teeth started chattering.

Cunningham laughed. "You look like a drowned rat. Absolutely silly. Really, it's wonderful." He closed the distance between us and put a hand on my cheek. "You know, Clarke, I like you. After you get me the arrowhead, maybe you can stay here with me and my girls. You may not have dragon blood, but I think I'd find you quite amusing."

"I don't think so," I said through my chattering teeth.

"If I want it, you'll do it," he said. He touched my nose. "If I want to, I can own you. I think I might want to." He looked me over. "Besides, I think you'd look good in a bikini."

"I'd rather you just kill me," I said.

He laughed again. "Oh, Clarke. You are delightful." Then he grew serious. "Now, we're going to go and get that arrowhead. I'd let you come in the limo with me, but you're all wet, so you'll have to take your own car. I assume you brought a car?"

"Y-yes," I said, still shivering.

"Well, then, let's go," he said. "Back to wherever it was you left the arrowhead."

* * *

Before I got in my car, Cunningham instructed me to drive straight to wherever I had the arrowhead, park in the parking lot, and then find him before I did anything else.

I drove back to the hotel, and he followed me in his limousine. He had a compelled driver, but he didn't seem to have brought anyone else with him.

Once I parked the rental car, I shot a glance at the limo, which was idling in the parking lot.

Cunningham rolled the window down in the back of the limo. "Come here, Clarke," he said.

I went to him. I didn't have a choice.

"All right," said Cunningham. "Now, tell me where the arrowhead is, and tell me the truth."

"It's in my bag in my room," I said, wincing. Man, I hadn't wanted to tell him that. I didn't want to give this thing back to him considering it was the only weapon we had against him.

"Okay," he said. "Then go to your room, get the arrowhead, but be sure only to touch it by the chain. Do not touch the arrowhead itself. Then change into some dry clothes and come back to me here. We'll go back to my place together, all right?"

I nodded. So, apparently, I needed to touch the arrowhead for it to work. But if I did, then his power over me would end. I didn't think that I could, though, because he had specifically ordered me not to do it.

Even as I thought this, my legs had already started working, carrying me inside the hotel.

I walked and I racked my brain. How could I stop this? How could I touch the arrowhead?

He'd ordered me to go to my room and pick it up by the chain and to change my clothes. Could I put it in my clothes, accidentally brush it somehow? Well, if I did it on purpose, it wouldn't be an accident. I didn't think that was going to work.

We were on the first floor, so I headed down the wing towards our adjoining rooms.

And then I realized that he hadn't told me that I had to go straight to my room, only that I had to get there eventually. So, I could potentially stop somewhere on my way.

I went to Naelen's room again and I pounded on the door. "Naelen!" I practically screamed. "Open the door!"

Nothing. I guessed I could go in my room and try the adjoining door, but then I'd be following Cunningham's directions and I wasn't sure I'd be able to deviate from them.

"Naelen!" I banged on the door. "God damn it, open up."

Still nothing.

I was growing hysterical. "Naelen, damn it!"

The door opened. Naelen stood there, rubbing his eyes. "Clarke? Why are you wet?"

I dragged him out into the hall and over to my room. I unlocked the door quickly and yanked him in with me. "Get my bag," I said, flipping on the light.

He flinched at the brightness. "What's going on? Did you get hosed down or fall in the river or something? Were you with Logan?"

"No, Logan's gone. Get my goddamned bag now."

"Logan's gone? What?"

"Get the bag! Or else I'm going to have to get it."

"Fine, you get it." He folded his arms over his chest.

"He told me to get the bag. If you don't get it—" But now I was moving across the room. I picked the bag up, set it in my bed and carefully took out the arrowhead by its chain. It dangled from my fingers, catching the light. "Okay, Naelen, I need you to touch the arrowhead to my skin."

"What?"

"Just do it," I snapped.

He looked completely confused, but he shuffled over and picked up the arrowhead and put it against my skin. "I don't know why you even still have this thing. I think it's kind of gross that it came off a dead body and all that."

I sighed in relief, feeling free. I hadn't been exactly aware of the tethers that bound me to Cunningham, but now that they were gone, I felt better.

"Naelen, we have trouble," I said. "And it's all my fault. I'm sorry."

"Trouble?" He still looked half-asleep. "What did you mean when you said that Logan was gone?"

"He came by my room and told me that he was leaving to hunt down some lead on Cunningham," I said. "He said he'd be back and for us to sit tight in the meantime."

Naelen snorted. "Sit tight? Seriously?"

"Yeah, well, I didn't take it well either. So, I decided that since I was so extraordinary and all, I'd just go after Cunningham and get Reign back. I thought I could sneak up on him and take him down."

Naelen sat down on the bed. "You went after Cunningham on your own?"

"Yeah," I said. "Stupid, I know."

"Not necessarily. You were the only one who could resist his compulsion."

"Only because I had this." I pointed at the arrowhead.

He raised his eyebrows. "It was this?"

"Yeah."

"But how? It's not made from dragons."

"I don't know," I said. "But he wants it back. He compelled me to come up here and get it."

"Oh, that's why you needed to touch it," he said. "Because you needed to break the compulsion."

"That's right," I said. "And now he's outside the hotel, and when I don't show up back there with the arrowhead soon, I have a feeling he's going to be pissed off."

Naelen took a deep breath. "Okay."

"Like I said, I'm sorry," I said.

"Well, what do we do?" he asked me. "You always figure out our next move. You've got to figure it out this time. Tell me what to do, and I'll do it."

"Well, I could go back down there wearing the arrowhead and pretend to be under his compulsion and try to kill him, I guess. Or..." I cocked my head at him. "Can you shift and then burn him? If you were in dragon form, there's no way he could take you."

"He could compel me, though."

"No," I said. "Not if you had the arrowhead." I handed it to him.

Naelen looked down at the thing, nestled in his palm. "Okay, I guess that works. I think it's big enough that the chain won't break if I've got it around my neck when I'm shifting." He stood up. "I wish the tubs were a little bit bigger. I could shift here. Does the hotel have a pool?"

"I think so," I said. "But the thing is, if you go in that pool, Cunningham is going to see you. He might try to stop you."

"You'll have to distract Cunningham, then," said Naelen. "Because the river is at the bottom of the mountain."

* * *

Distract him? Great. I had lost my bow and arrows at Cunningham's place, but luckily, I had spares. I only had three regular arrows left. The rest were all the tranquilizer kind that Naelen'd had made for me.

Usually, arrows would be useless against a vampire, but the tranqs would knock him out, and that might be pretty useful. I bet I could cut his head off while he was passed out.

There was a little porch off the back of my hotel room. I opened the sliding glass doors and eased outside, taking my bow and arrows. I thought maybe that I'd be able to sight Cunningham from here and shoot him.

But I couldn't even see the limo. The angle was off. I must have gotten a little disoriented coming inside. Or maybe he'd moved the limo.

Dawn was starting to streak the sky, pale yellow fingertips stretching from the horizon.

I pulled three arrows out of my quiver and held them all up to the bow. Ready to shoot, I moved forward until the limo came into sight.

The back window was rolled up and tinted. I couldn't see through it.

I let the first arrow fly.

The window shattered. There he was.

I sent the other two arrows right after the other.

One struck the side of the car and fell down.

The limo started moving.

I couldn't see Cunningham anymore. He had crouched down in the back seat, hiding like a coward.

I yanked out three more arrows and sent the first one flying. Might as well give it a shot, anyway. You never hit anything if you didn't shoot.

My arrow hit nothing. It lodged in the ground.

The limo was coming for me. I notched another arrow in my bow and let it fly.

It crashed through the front windshield of the car, went straight through and then back out the back window. But it didn't hurt anyone. Not the driver. Not Cunningham.

I could hear Cunningham yelling, "Stop, stop!"

The limo screeched to a halt.

Cunningham got out of the back. "Do you have the arrowhead? Tell me the truth."

"Not anymore," I said, cringing.

"So, you don't have it now," he said. "Put down the bow."

I set the bow on the ground. I couldn't see the pool, which was surrounded by a fence at the other end of the parking lot, but I really hoped that Naelen had found his way in there. Because I was about done now. I didn't think I'd be able to do much more distracting.

"I don't understand how this happened," Cunningham sighed. "I told you not to touch it. You touched it anyway, didn't you?"

I still had one of the arrows in my hand. Maybe I could jam it into his eye socket if I moved quick, put a lot of force behind my blow.

"Damn it, Clarke, answer me when I ask you a question," he said in a low voice. He was seething. He seemed in control, but it was just a mask. Underneath it all, he was full of fury.

"I didn't touch it," I said.

"Then why didn't you follow my instructions?"

I didn't want to tell him about Naelen. Could I lie? "It touched me on its own. I was walking, and it was swinging in my hand, and it just... happened."

"Then why don't you have it anymore?" said Cunningham. "You want me to believe that you would willingly set down the arrowhead when you know it protects you from me? Does someone else have it? Tell the truth, Clarke. Always tell me the truth."

I cringed. "Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, someone else has it," I said. God, I really hoped Naelen had shifted. But if he had, wouldn't I have seen him fly up out of the pool. I hadn't. He must be running into problems. I needed to stall. But how?

"Who has it?"

"Naelen," I said in a squeaky voice.

"Who the hell is Naelen? Was he with you earlier tonight?"

"Yes."

"Is he the gargoyle?"

"No," I said.

"Damn it, damn it, damn it," said Cunningham, sighing. He kicked several loose rocks across the parking lot. "And look what you did to my limo." He pointed at all the broken glass. "You really are starting to drive me into a rage, Clarke."

I licked my lips. I still had this arrow. Was there any way? If I got closer, could I—

"Stab yourself with that arrow," he said.

"What?" I said. But I was already responding. I was turning the pointed end of the arrow on myself.

"Nowhere lethal, at least not yet. I'm not done with you yet, but you must learn your lesson. So somewhere that it will hurt but not kill you."

I drove it into my own leg. I shrieked. God damn it, that hurt.

I went down on one knee.

Blood started to well up, bleeding through my jeans. And I'd just changed out of my wet clothes too. Another outfit ruined.

"Pull it out," said Cunningham. "Where has Naelen gone with the arrowhead?"

I yanked the arrow out. "To shift into a dragon," I gasped. It hurt so bad it was hard to breathe.

"Oh, that's just wonderful," said Cunningham. "Just wonderful. Jesus, Clarke. Stab yourself again."

I punched the arrow into my own leg again. He hadn't give me much specification. I figured hurting the same leg again couldn't be too bad. And I wasn't pushing it in very deep. Still, it hurt like hell. I cried out.

"Shifting into a dragon," muttered Cunningham. "Just perfect."

I was starting to feel a little woozy, I realized. This arrow? This was the tranquilizer arrow...

My vision swam in front of me. My eyes felt heavy.

Whoa, that kicked in quick. I guess it was made for a dragon, though, so it would have to—

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

I awoke to the smell of smoke. My eyes fluttered open. The trees were on fire.

Well, they had been, anyway. Now, they were only smoldering.

I sat up. I was lying right where I'd fallen, in the parking lot behind the hotel, but Cunningham and his limousine were nowhere to be found. Instead, the lot was glutted with fire trucks. They were spraying their hoses on the surrounding fir trees, which were now pine-needle-less skeletal blackened things.

Had this been Naelen? Had Naelen done this?

Where was Naelen?

Where was Cunningham?

Groaning, I pushed my way to my feet.

Oh. Geez. My leg throbbed from the places where I'd stabbed it. I looked down to see that the arrow was still sticking out of my leg. I yanked it free.

Ow! Damn.

I took a moment to regain my bearings, to deal with the throbbing pain in my leg. Then I started to limp toward one of the fire trucks.

One of the fire fighters was rolling up a hose.

I waved at him. "Excuse me!"

He looked up. "Miss, if you're in need of medical attention, the ambulances are up front."

"I just need some information," I said, limping more quickly.

"You don't look well, miss," he said.

"What happened?" I said. I gestured to the trees. "What did this?"

"A dragon," said the firefighter.

"Oh," I said. "Did you happen to see a limo?"

"Yeah," said the firefighter. "That's what happened. The dragon chased this busted up limousine out of the parking lot and down the mountain. I didn't go after him, so I don't know what happened after that. Weird, though, I gotta say. I didn't think dragons acted like that. I mean, you hear stories, but only from those nutbags in the Brotherhood or those other human-supremacist-type groups. They say that dragons are dangerous beasts and all that. But I always thought they were talking out of their asses. I just... I never thought about what I dragon could do..." He gazed up at the smoking trees.

"Well, I'm sure the dragon had a good reason," I said.

"Oh, you a local, then?" said the firefighter.

"What? Why would you say that?"

"We came in from a town ten miles away," said the firefighter, pointing to the side of his truck, which had Springville Fire Department emblazoned on it. "The local volunteer department, though, they keep talking about some guy named Cunningham, saying it's about time someone stood up to him, stuff like that. You know who this Cunningham person is?"

"Actually, I do," I said. "He's not a good person."

"Right, so the destroying dragon's a hero, then, I guess." The firefighter chuckled ruefully. "I gotta say, I do not understand it, I have to admit."

"They went down the mountain, you say?" I said.

"That's right," he said.

"Thanks for the chat!" I waved at him and then took off as fast as my wounded leg would take me to the rental car.

* * *

I'd had the sense not to stab the leg I needed to hit the pedals in the car. So, that was at least on my side. The holes in my leg still hurt like hell though as I did my best to move the car forward.

Trying to get out of that parking lot was like navigating a maze. Place was jammed full of fire trucks, ambulances, police cars, and all the cars of the guests in the hotel.

But eventually, I wiggled my way out of there, and I started down the road that led to downtown.

Every ten feet, there was a scorch mark on the road—the vegetation on the side completely burned out. Naelen must have been breathing fire balls at the limo.

I didn't have to go far before I found the limo itself.

It was a burnt-out husky of a thing on the side of the road. There was another cluster of police cars here as well.

I parked the rental on the shoulder and got out. I approached.

The limo was completely ruined. I got close enough that I could look in the back seat. The interior had been burnt out. It was still smoking back there.

There was no body.

Now, from what I knew of vamps, they could go up in flames pretty well, and they wouldn't leave much behind. So, maybe Cunningham was gone.

But deep in my bones I knew that wasn't true, because I could still feel his tethers on me. They were subtle, but they were there. He was alive.

Hell, that didn't make sense. Compulsion—regular compulsion—usually only worked in close proximity. This far away from Cunningham, it should have broken.

I mean, the tethers did seem far away, almost as if they were stretching, pulling away from me like strands of cheese...

"Excuse me, ma'am?" said one of the police officers. "Can I ask what it is you're doing here?"

"Oh, just checking out the scene, sir," I said, giving him my most reassuring smile. "Did you see a dragon come through here?"

"Not me," said the officer. "But someone who witnessed the crash said that a man got out of the limo and ran for the woods over there. Said the dragon followed him."

"Thank you so much," I said, limping out into the fields towards the woods.

"Wait," called the police officer. "Where are you going?"

I just waved to him, still smiling, and kept going.

Inside the woods, I found a stream. It must feed into the river. It wasn't very deep here, but it looked as though it were widening.

I followed the stream for a bit until I came upon Naelen, sitting up to his neck in the stream. The arrowhead was around his neck, but I was pretty sure he didn't have anything else on.

"Clarke, it's you!" said Naelen. "I thought... when I flew off, you were lying on the ground. I wanted to stop to help you, but Cunningham was getting away, and—"

"Where is Cunningham?" I said.

"I lost him," he said. "I was chasing him through the woods out here, but then it was like he simply... disappeared. I mean, one second he was right it front of me, and then he was gone."

"What?" I said.

Naelen sighed. "I don't know. It's weird, huh?"

I cocked my head to one side. "Well, we know where he lives. We'll go back there, and you can duck down into that pool there behind his house and shift, and then we'll finish him off."

"Okay," he said, standing up.

My eyes got big. I caught of a glimpse of his taut stomach muscles and his powerful thighs. And in between them—

I turned around. "Uh... on second thought, maybe you should just shift now and fly over? I'll take the car and meet you."

* * *

"Anything?" called Naelen from the bottom of the steps. We were in Cunningham's house now. I was up in the kitchen. He was downstairs.

"No," I called back. "There's nothing here except furniture."

He pushed open the door. He was wearing a pair of black sweat pants and holding a black shirt. He tugged it over his head. "Found this in the laundry."

"That's handy," I said. "All the rest of the clothes seem to be gone. And the sheets on the beds, and the towels from in the closets, and even the shower curtains. They must have packed everything up and took off."

"You really think they're gone?" He looked around the kitchen. "Maybe they went out. Maybe they'll come back."

"Maybe," I said, but there was no conviction in my voice.

"You do think they left."

"It only makes sense, right? Cunningham isn't looking for a big fight. He wants to stay someplace quiet with his blood slaves and make them parade around in bikinis and serve his every whim—"

"What do you think he makes her do?" broke in Naelen, his voice going high-pitched.

Damn it. I had temporarily forgotten the fact that Reign, Naelen's sister, was one of those blood slaves. "I'm sure it's not that bad. I'm sure he just drinks their blood."

"Right," said Naelen with a bitter laugh. "Right, that's all." He gripped the edge of the kitchen counter and bowed his head. "We lost her, didn't we? We found her, and now we lost her."

"God, I'm sorry, Naelen, this is all my fault. If we would have waited for Logan, like he said—"

"Oh, fuck Logan." Naelen's voice was a growl. He looked up at me with fury behind his eyes. "He never cared about my sister. If he had, he would have helped me get her out last night when we found her."

"He couldn't help you," I said. "He was compelled. No, I should have helped you, because I was the one who—"

"Don't blame yourself," said Naelen. "You don't have to defend Logan."

"I'm not. It's just that I caused all this," I said. "I went after Cunningham."

"Logan egged you on," said Naelen.

"He did piss me off," I mumbled.

"See? It is his fault." Naelen pushed away from the counter and started to pace.

"It's my fault."

"It doesn't matter whose fault it is," said Naelen. "We've lost Reign, and that's all there is to it."

I went to him. I put my hand on top of his. "We don't know that," I said in a quiet voice.

He raised his gaze to mine. "Clarke—"

"We'll wait," I said. "Maybe you're right. Maybe they'll all come back."

We waited.

We waited until it was lunch time, and our stomachs were growling. No one was there.

Around noon, I went out and picked up some food. We watched the house.

No one came back.

Still, we waited.

Around late afternoon, Naelen decided this was ridiculous. "They're gone, and they're getting further and further away. We're wasting time, sitting here doing nothing."

"Maybe you're right," I said.

"So, what do we do now?" he wanted to know.

I shook my head.

"Come on Clarke. You have to figure our next move."

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Figure out our next move? No pressure or anything, right?

God.

We went back to the hotel, and I called Logan. He didn't pick up, which was typical for him. He did have a cell phone, but he was hell about keeping it charged up or paid off.

Naelen didn't think there was any reason to call Logan, anyway. "We've got to go after Cunningham," he said.

"We don't know where Cunningham went," I said.

"So, we go back to Sea City," he said. "Regroup. Try to figure it all out. We need to do something, and we can't stay here."

I didn't really see what going back to Sea City was going to do to help us out, but I wouldn't mind a night in my own bed, now that I thought about it. And it would probably soothe him to feel as if we were doing something instead of sitting around twiddling our thumbs.

"All right," I said. "Pack up then. You still have the arrowhead?"

"I do," he said. "I better give it to you."

"No, you keep it. You're a dragon. It's better for you to have it. You're more powerful."

"Fine," he said.

We parted ways to pack.

It didn't take me long to get everything all packed up. I hadn't brought much stuff.

I was going to knock on the adjoining door and tell Naelen I was ready to get out of there when my phone rang. It was Logan.

"What's up?" he said. "I saw you called me."

"I was only going to ask if you found that lead on Cunningham yet," I said.

"Antsy to go after him? I told you, Clarke, if you sit tight, I'll be back—"

"Cunningham's gone," I said.

"What?" said Logan.

"Yeah, he cleared out. I think he was afraid of getting burned to ash by Naelen's fire balls."

"You went after him? I told you not to."

"Well, you're not the boss of me." So, I sounded like a five-year-old. He deserved it.

He sighed heavily on the other end of the phone. "Look, the truth is, I'm kind of knee deep into something else anyway."

"Something else?"

"Yeah, I would have made it back there to deal with Cunningham eventually, but I got this call about some nasty drakes I been tracking down for the past year or so, and if I don't follow up on this now, I'm going to lose them."

"So, you're not even going after the lead you have?" I said. "You kidding me? You realize Naelen's sister is being held captive by Cunningham?"

"Oh, hell. I forgot about that."

"How could you forget?"

"Unlike you, I don't think about him that much."

"She's an innocent girl, so no matter how it is you feel about Naelen—"

"Look, why don't you just go see Eden Hudson in Maple View, Ohio, and tell her I sent you. She knows something about Cunningham," said Logan.

"I'm supposed to show up at this person's door?"

"Yeah," said Logan. "That's what I always do."

"Wait, how do you know this woman?" I said. If this was one of Logan's other conquests, I wasn't so much sure I could handle it.

"From working," said Logan.

"Did you, um... did you ever sleep with her?"

He laughed. "Didn't know you cared."

"I..." I bit down on my bottom lip.

Logan's voice got soft. "I don't know how many times I have to tell you this, Clarke, but there aren't any other girls, okay? I know you pester me to hook up with someone else. But you're it for me. Always have been. Always will be. That's all there is to it. So, no, I never slept with her. Never anyone but you."

I was quiet. He'd said things similar to that before, but I'd never really believed him. I always thought he was trying to placate me, somehow soften the blow of his long absences by claiming fidelity to me, even though I was sure that was ridiculous. He was a red-blooded man, after all. Now, though, well...

"Logan," I said in a hoarse voice, "I never asked you to—"

"Look, I should probably get back to hunting these drakes, you know?"

"Yeah," I said.

"Eden Hudson," he said. "I'll text you the address."

* * *

"So, you really think this lead that Logan's got us chasing will pan out?" said Naelen as we boarded his jet.

"I know he wouldn't steer us wrong," I said. "This is where he would have gone if he hadn't gotten... distracted."

"Distracted, huh? That happen with him a lot?"

"You have no idea," I muttered.

We settled into the big leather chairs on his plane.

"God," Naelen muttered. "I'm going to need a drink."

"So," I said. "The guy who flies your plane? Was he just hanging out here waiting for us this whole time?"

"No, he took the jet home to Sea City," said Naelen. "I called him earlier to tell him to fly it back down here. I originally told him he'd be flying us home, but I've just adjusted the itinerary since you told me about this lead."

Naelen waited until we were in the air before he started mixing drinks. He offered me one, and since it had been a hell of a couple of days, I decided I'd take him up on it. He mixed me something simple, just rum and Coke, and he made it a little stronger than I would have liked, so I sipped it.

"What do you mean, I have no idea how distracted Logan is?" he asked as he settled in with his own drink, whiskey on the rocks.

"I think he has undiagnosed ADD," I said. "He flits from one thing to the other. Can't settle anywhere. Has to keep moving."

"Can't settle, huh?" said Naelen. "That why you guys broke up? Did you want to settle down?"

I sighed. It was amazing how easily he'd figured that out.

"Why do you put up with him, then? Why not just cut him out of your life?"

"He and I have a past. We knew each other when we were kids."

"Yeah, you said. But so what? I knew lots of people when I was a kid that I don't give the time of day now."

"He helped me out with something. He helped my sister."

"With what?"

"A thing is all," I said. "Look, I know you don't like him, but he's a good friend. No matter what happens, I do know that I'll have his back and he'll have mine."

"Unless he gets distracted."

"Why do you hate him so much anyway?"

"I don't hate him." But Naelen sounded defensive. "Listen, maybe he and I rub each other the wrong way, but it's nothing worse than that. I'm only talking about it because of you."

"Me?"

"Look, Clarke, I know you have this crazy idea that I despise you or something, but I don't. I'd consider you a friend. And I don't think you hate me either. You seem to be softening towards me. You aren't insulting me every three seconds."

I laughed a little. "Well... we've been through some crazy stuff the past couple of days. And you haven't been completely useless."

"Oh, thank you very much." He chuckled, sipping his drink.

"No, I pegged you as this prissy rich boy, but you're actually much more capable than I gave you credit for."

He raised his eyebrows. "Did my ears deceive me, or did you compliment me?"

I rolled my eyes.

"Would you consider me a friend, then, Clarke?"

"Friends," I said, turning the word over in my mouth. "Sure. We're friends."

"Well, as a friend, I think Logan makes you unhappy. I don't like seeing you unhappy."

I took a sip of my rum and Coke. "It's not that he makes me unhappy exactly..."

"Sad," he said. "I would say sad is the word. You get this look in your eyes when you talk about him. Kind of a deep-down hurt look. He did a number on you."

"He didn't. I don't get a look like that."

Naelen shrugged.

"He helped my sister out. He helped her out in a big way. I'll always owe him."

"It's about your sister, then?"

"No, it's about..." I sighed. "I told you I didn't want to talk about him."

"You really care about your sister, don't you?"

"I look after her. She needs... she hasn't had things easy."

"Neither have you. You seem to take care of yourself."

"Well, I have to. Because she needs me. If we both flaked out, we'd be dead."

He laughed a little. "Yeah. I know what you mean."

"You do?"

"I'd do anything for Reign. I remember when she was a baby, at first I didn't like her, because she was squirmy and red and cried. Cried and cried and cried. She'd be up lying in her bedroom, bawling her head off for ages. But then one day, I went up there. I wanted to shut her up. The minute I picked her up... everything changed."

"Wait," I said. "Your sister was left all alone?"

"My parents weren't much interested in anything except each other," he said.

"God," I said.

He shrugged. "I took care of her. I was her favorite, and everyone knew it. But it was only because I paid attention to her. I held her and rocked her and made her bottles and changed her diapers. When she was older, I was the one she came to when she skinned her knee or when she had nightmares. She relied on me. And when someone's relying on you, it changes something in you. Makes you brave. Like, if there was no one else around, you'd hide from the monsters under the bed. But having your kid sister worried about them means that you're pulling up the bedspread to show her how nothing's there and telling her not to be scared."

I nodded. "That's it exactly."

"She's depending on you," he said. "You have to step up."

I shook my head slowly. "I can't believe your parents didn't—"

"I'm sorry I brought it up," he muttered. "I don't much want to talk about them."

"Oh," I said. "Sorry."

He cocked his head at me. "Seems we both have our sore points, hmm?"

"Yeah, I guess so," I said.

He downed the rest of his drink and got up. "I'm going to get a refill. You want anything?"

* * *

"So, what do you know about this Eden woman?" asked Naelen.

We were in yet another rental car. We'd been able to land the jet at a commercial airport this time, and it had been much easier finding a rental. Now we were following the GPS on my phone to Eden's house. We were close.

"I don't know anything," I said. "I know that Logan met her on a job and that she knows something about Cunningham. Couldn't be more in the dark about it. I don't even know if she knows we're coming. It would be just like Logan not to call ahead and warn her that we're coming, you know?"

"Great," said Naelen. "So, we're showing up unannounced on a stranger's doorstep?"

"I hope not," I said.

"Well, maybe we should find someplace to stay for the night," said Naelen. "Call on her in the morning. It's getting to be late."

"It's not even dinner time," I said.

"Will be soon," said Naelen. "It's not the right time to show up at someone's house. She's not going to be inclined to want to talk to us. I bet we just have to come back tomorrow anyway."

"Well, I thought you'd want to get the information as quickly as possible. Get Cunningham as fast as we can."

"Even if we do find it all out this evening, there's no way my pilot's flying us anywhere else tonight," said Naelen. "We're stuck here for the night regardless."

I considered. "Well, I think we should go see her anyway. If it's a bad time for her, we'll just come back."

"You don't think we'll piss her off?" said Naelen.

"I hope not," I said. "Hopefully Logan did something good for her. Saved her from something terrible. Hopefully, she'll be grateful to him and open to us."

The GPS piped up then to tell us to take a turn.

Naelen put on his blinker and took the turn.

The GPS then informed us that our destination was on the right.

"Oh, wow, I didn't realize we were so close," he said.

I pointed. "Must be that house?" It was one of those split levels, where the levels are staggered, and the basement is half above the ground. The kind of house that has a split staircase in the foyer, with one small set of stairs going down and the other going up. It had white siding and a swing set in the front yard. Three cars were parked in the driveway. Looked pretty normal.

Naelen pulled the rental car over and parked on the street in front of the house. "Okay," he said.

"Okay," I said.

He turned off the car and took the keys out of the ignition.

I opened the door and got out of the car.

"You go first," said Naelen, getting out too.

I glanced at him. "Gee, thanks."

"Hey, I don't even know Logan."

I took a deep breath. I was feeling a little nervous. It wasn't as bad as facing down a rogue dragon or even Cunningham, but it wasn't great. I took a step forward.

Ouch.

Damn it, I kept forgetting my leg was hurt.

"You okay?" said Naelen, offering me his arm. "If you want to go to a doctor or hospital or something—"

"It's bandaged. It's fine," I said.

"He made you stab yourself."

"I didn't do it very deep," I said. But I took his arm anyway. It was easier if I didn't have to put too much pressure on it. Together, we made our way across the lawn to the front door of the house.

I took a deep breath, and then I knocked on the door.

Oh, man. What was I going to say? I should have practiced this. Now it was going to come out of my mouth all wrong and I was going to sound like an idiot.

The door opened. A pretty brunette stood there in a blue t-shirt and jeans. "Yes?"

"Um, Eden Hudson?" I said.

"That is me," said the brunette. "Do I know you?"

"You don't," I said. "But you know Logan Gray."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Oh, you're friends of Logan's?"

"Yeah," I said. "We came because he said that you might know something that's important. We're trying to help somebody."

"Logan's always trying to help," she said, smiling. "You guys better come in. You can stay for dinner, and stay overnight if you want."

"Uh... overnight?" I said. "That would be a huge imposition—"

"Don't be silly. We have tons of room," she said. "I'll just tell Jocelyn to make sure there are clean sheets in the guest room. You two are a couple right?" She gestured to where I was clutching Naelen's arm.

I let go of him as if he burned me. "No," I said. "We are not a couple. Not at all."

"Oops," said Eden, grinning. "Silly me. Well, you'd make a cute one. But it's not a problem. We have two guest rooms." She raised her voice. "Hey, Jocelyn?"

"Yeah?" called a female voice from within.

"There fresh sheets on the guest beds?" Eden called. She stepped away from the door. "Come in, come in," she said to both of us.

Naelen and I exchanged a glance. Then, unsure of what to do, we stepped inside.

Eden closed the door behind us.

We were standing in the middle of a landing. Stairs went down into the basement on our right. On our left, they ascended into the upper level of the house, just as I'd predicted.

A woman appeared at the bottom of the steps. She had red hair. "Yeah, they've got fresh sheets. We got company?" She saw us. "Oh, hi!"

"They're friends of Logan's," said Eden.

"Great," said the redhead, who I figured must be Jocelyn. She clambered up the steps. "Gosh, so nice to meet you both. I'd stay and talk, but I'm wrangling toddlers. I better get back before they destroy everything." She ran down the steps again, waving.

Eden started up the steps. "Come with me."

We followed her.

"So, that's Jocelyn," said Eden. "She's with the kids. And our husband Brian is in the kitchen, cooking. I'll just pop my head in and tell him you guys are here."

The kitchen was right off the top of the steps.

Our husband?

"Who was at the door?" called a male voice, probably Brian.

"Friends of Logan's," said Eden, going into the kitchen. "They're staying for dinner and overnight."

"Oh, great," said Brian.

"I'm just going to set some new plates," said Eden coming out of the kitchen and squeezing past us.

A man with glasses, wearing a Star Wars t-shirt, came out behind her. "Hey there." He offered me his hand.

"Hi," I shook with him. "I'm, um, Clarke."

"Clarke, nice to meet you. I'm Brian," he said. He offered his hand to Naelen. "You are?"

"Naelen," said Naelen. "Nice to meet you."

"Yeah," said Brian, grinning. "You met my wives already. Did you meet the kids?"

Wives?

"Wives?" said Naelen, looking confused.

"Oh, didn't Logan tell you we were poly?" said Brian.

* * *

"My night to put the kids down," said Brian, as he got up from the table.

We were just finishing up dinner, which had been a boisterous affair. The two toddlers—Courtney and Nick—seemed about the same age, and I could only assume had different mothers. They were excited little kids who made lots of noise and smashed their food around. They both seemed pretty happy, and I wasn't one to judge, considering my own childhood could probably be termed, er, traumatic, and I'd turned out just fine.

Eden and Jocelyn wiped the kids faces and handed them over to their dad. The three of them disappeared.

Jocelyn started to clear plates from the table.

"Hey," said Eden. "It's my night to wash up."

"I'll get this," said Jocelyn. "You talk to our guests. You know Logan the best."

"Really?" said Eden. "You sure? Because I can definitely do it."

"You can do it tomorrow. We'll just switch," said Jocelyn. "Not a big deal." She grinned and headed into the kitchen with her arms full of dishes.

"Thanks!" Eden called after her and then turned to us. "So, go ahead. You've got questions. Everyone always does."

"Uh... about what?" I said, looking at Naelen for help.

Naelen was busy crumpling his napkin up and not looking at me.

"It's okay," said Eden. "We know our family is peculiar. Ask away." She settled back in her chair, arms crossed, grinning.

Naelen set down his napkin. It was a tight ball. He didn't say anything.

I didn't say anything.

"It's fine," said Naelen finally. "I caught a couple episodes of that TV show, so, I get it."

"Oh, it's not a religious thing," said Eden. "We're not polygamous, we're polyamorous."

"And there's a difference?" I said.

"Definitely," said Eden. "In a polygamous family, it's all about the guy. He gets to sleep with lots of women, but the women all have to be monogamous to him. It's sexist. We're not like that at all."

Jocelyn popped her head in. "Well, we're a little different than most polys, though, because we are all monogamous to the triad. Which isn't what most relationships are like."

"Well, I don't know if you can say what most polyamorous relationships are like," said Eden. "There's no rules. But I guess it's safe to say that most polys think that there's no way you'd find one person that you'd want to have sex with for the rest of your life exclusively."

"Really?" I said, cringing.

"Or even two people," said Jocelyn. "But... I don't know, I don't find the idea of it all that limiting, really. I like our family."

"Me too," said Eden.

"I don't understand how that would work," said Naelen. "If there are even just two people, and they each take one other partner, and then those partners take one other partner... How do all those people even...?"

"Well, it doesn't have to be a cohabitation situation," said Eden. "Sometimes it's just a man and a woman who live together in their own house and they sort of date other people."

"Like swingers," I said.

Eden and Jocelyn giggled.

"Well, ideally, you want to cultivate relationships, not just sex," said Eden.

"Yeah, it's really not about sex in the end," said Jocelyn.

"And," said Eden, "in response to your question, Naelen, not all relationships will be with all of the people. Depending on how you set up the perimeters, it could be that each member of the relationship pursues one-on-one relationships with other people, and that those other people aren't necessarily connected to the other partners, if you know what I mean."

"Or you could be like us, and just all entangled," said Jocelyn, taking up another armload of plates.

"Yeah, we don't just each have a relationship with Brian," said Eden. "Jocelyn and I are also in a relationship. Jocelyn and I were together first, actually."

"Oh," I said.

"Oh," said Naelen.

We exchanged a glance, then we turned back to her.

"I'm freaking you out, aren't I?" She laughed a little.

"No, not at all," I said.

"Well, we don't have to talk about it," said Eden. "Maybe I pushed too much? People are usually curious, so we've gotten into the habit of being an open book. But if you'd rather not talk about it, I'll shut up."

"We didn't say that," said Naelen.

"We're not freaked," I said.

"Okay," said Eden.

We were all quiet.

Jocelyn came back in and got the rest of the plates. She grinned at us, eyebrows raised.

We smiled back.

She went back into the kitchen.

"So, um, you were gay?" I said. "And then you met Brian?"

She laughed. "I knew you were curious."

I cleared my throat, studying my knuckles.

"I've always identified as bisexual," said Eden. "Jocelyn identified as a lesbian, but she'd had relationships with men in the past. They had never worked out, though. So, anyway, she and I met, and we were together, and we were happy. But... I don't know... there was something missing, I guess."

"Are we telling the story of how we met?" said a voice.

We looked up to see Brian coming back into the kitchen.

"Wow, they went down fast," said Eden.

"I think they were exhausted," said Brian. He sat down at the table and addressed Naelen and me. "You guys haven't gotten up and run out of the house yet, so that's probably a good sign." He chuckled.

Jocelyn came back out with a bottle of wine. "You know what always helps these conversations? Alcohol."

"Hey," said Naelen, "I have that wine I got from Moreau's in the car."

"Oh, that stuff was good," I said.

Naelen got up from the table. "I'll be back."

"How'd you two meet?" said Brian to me.

"Oh, we're not... together," I said.

"Right," said Jocelyn, pouring wine into glasses. "Because she's Clarke."

"Oh, that Clarke," said Eden.

"Like there are that many women named Clarke," said Jocelyn.

"Logan was talking about you one evening," said Brian, eyeing me. "He really cares about you."

"Yeah, we're good friends," I said.

"Oh, I thought you guys were like star-crossed lovers or something," said Jocelyn, handing me a glass of wine.

"No," I said, laughing. God, this conversation was making me more uncomfortable than the one about being polyamorous.

"The look he gets in his eyes when he talks about you," said Brian.

"Yeah, well..." I shook my head. "That's just Logan being Logan. He talks a good game, but he's not very good with the follow-through." I turned in my chair. "What could be keeping Naelen?"

At that moment, he burst back up the steps, carrying two bottles of wine. He set them down on the table with a smile. "Glad we ran into you guys. Otherwise, I would have practically had to drink these alone. Clarke is a lightweight."

"I am not," I said, a little more sharply than I might have otherwise. The whole stuff with Logan was getting under my skin. How dare he talk about me to total strangers? He probably made me sound horrible. Made himself sound like Romeo or something when he was really incapable of having a proper relationship.

"So," said Brian, rubbing his hands together, "where were we? Is it about the point in time when I enter the story?"

Eden laughed. "Well, I met Brian out one night."

"And we were already poly at this point," said Jocelyn, "because I knew that Eden liked men, and I knew that I couldn't ever be that to her, so it was okay with me if she wanted to be with a man."

"Right," said Eden. "We were both open to the other person having other partners."

"But we had rules," said Jocelyn. "Our rules were that I got to meet this person before Eden went out with him, you know. And if I met a girl, I would introduce her to Eden first."

"So, they had me over for dinner," said Brian. "And I didn't know I was auditioning to go out with Eden or anything. I just thought I was having a dinner with friends."

"And we had a great time at dinner," said Jocelyn. "And afterward, I remember that I told Eden I didn't know if it was a good idea if she went out with him, because I was finding myself attracted to him too."

"Of course, I though they were both great," said Brian. "But I was very much not polyamorous at all. In fact, I'm kind of the cog in this wheel here, because I'm very possessive. If it were up to the two of them, we'd all be free to go off and date anyone."

"No, we wouldn't," said Jocelyn. "We all decided to be monogamous to each other together."

"Like we have time to date with two toddlers," said Eden.

Brian shrugged. "I don't know. I'll just admit it, that was my hang-up. I didn't feel I could share a woman with another man. I don't know if it's my upbringing or some kind of overactive lizard-brain thing, but..." He shrugged. "I can't get past it."

"So, we worked through it," said Jocelyn. "Because that's what people in love do." She reached over and took his hand.

He squeezed it and gave her the kind of smile that a guy gives a woman he's besotted with.

I looked over at Eden, but she had cocked her head to one side and was gazing at them with a similarly besotted look.

"Wait," I said. "Seriously. You don't get jealous?"

"Mmm... not so much anymore," said Eden. "But back when I was first in a poly relationship? All the time. I mean, I knew it was what I wanted, so I decided I would work on my jealousy. It wasn't easy, but now it's paid off. And I get to have everything. A husband. A wife. Kids. A perfect life."

"Aww," said Jocelyn, winking at her. "I love you too." She turned to me. "I'll freely admit I'm not as enlightened as Eden. I still get jealous. But we work through things. We have an insanely high level of talking-it-out time amongst the three of us. Like, constantly."

All of them chuckled.

I nodded and smiled. Okay, whatever.

"More wine?" said Jocelyn.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Later on, after we'd cracked into one of Naelen's bottles of wine and moved to the living room, we were all sitting together and talking. I had to admit that they were likable people. And I didn't much care what they did. They were happy being a triad or whatever they called it? Fine. It seemed like a stable, happy home as near as I could tell.

More power to them, I decided. Still, I could never imagine myself in a relationship like this. No way was I sharing a guy with another woman, not even if I got to go out and have sex with other guys. No freaking way.

"Well," Naelen was saying, "honestly, I think it's great. I'm practically a convert."

"You are?" I said.

He took a sip of his wine. "Well, you remember that conversation we were having earlier about the troubles I have with women? I think this would solve all of them."

"I don't," I said.

"No?" He raised his eyebrows. "I don't think I'd have a problem with the women I see being with other guys, because I don't currently ask anyone I'm seeing to be exclusive. I'm kind of already doing it, anyway."

"No, you aren't," I said. "Because you never see the same woman more than once. You just have one night stands. This polygamy thing is about long-term relationships, near as I can tell."

"Polyamory," said Eden. "And you're right. It is about forming relationships."

Naelen set down his wine glass. "Well, that means that I have to listen to them go on about how their day went or get in fights with them about what to watch on TV, then? See them in between waxing appointments?"

Everyone laughed except me.

I was too busy being shocked at what an utter ass he was.

"Yeah, maybe it's not for me, after all," he said.

"You can just go back to man-whoring your way around Sea City," I muttered.

He clutched his chest. "Ow. Geez, Clarke. You wound me. Man-whore? Really?"

I gave him a cool look. "I call it like I see it."

"Don't listen to him," said Brian. "Men say this kind of stuff when they're single. But when they meet the right people, or the right person, they change their tune."

"Oh, no, no." Naelen shook his head. "You do not get it, man. None of you guys are dragons. You don't have destined mates, like we do. I'm not settling down just because I feel the tug of some weird mating bond. I'm fighting that crap. I've seen firsthand what it can do to people. My own parents were really in love, right? They loved each other a lot. And that's about all they loved, you know? They were just so caught up in each other that they let everything else go to shit. Hell, my sister and I wouldn't even have anywhere to live—my parents wouldn't have somewhere to live—if I hadn't stepped up and rescued us financially. So, screw all this business about love conquering all, because I don't buy it."

No one said anything. We were all simply staring at him.

He picked up his wine glass. "I mean, no offense. It seems to be working out fine for the three of you, so sorry. It's not for me, though. I know that."

"It sounds to me like you've got a lot of anger towards your parents," said Eden.

Naelen shrugged. "No. Not really. I don't care about them. They do their own thing. We try to stay out of each other's way."

"If you want to talk about it," said Jocelyn, "we're really good at talking things out. We really are."

"Nah," said Naelen, draining his glass. "Maybe we should finally get around to talking about the reason that we're here."

"Oh," said Eden. "Why did you guys stop by?"

"We, uh, we heard you know something about Ronan Cunningham," I said.

"Oh, geez," said Eden. "You guys are tangled up with that guy? I assume he's still got the objects."

"The objects?" I said.

"Yeah. The arrowhead. The stylus. The scarab. The comb," she said. "I think those are the ones he has."

Naelen took the arrowhead out of his pocket. "You mean this arrowhead?"

"Oh," said Eden. "You got it. How did you do it?"

"We killed a vampire and took it off her body," I said. "We didn't know what it was. It has magic somehow, but it's not made of dragons."

"No, it's not," said Eden. "But where these objects come from—"

A thin, high-pitched wail suddenly came from the baby monitor.

"On it," said Brian, getting up and heading out of the room.

Eden furrowed her brow. "I think that was Courtney. She'll never go back to sleep for anyone but me."

"Just let Brian deal with it," said Jocelyn.

Eden nodded. "Uh, so where they come from, there's magic in everything. It's the same place that the—"

"Eden, she's asking for you," called Brian's voice.

Eden got up. "I'm sorry. We'll have to talk about this later. Tomorrow would probably be best. It's a long story."

* * *

The room they've given me to sleep in was small, but it opened onto a tiny balcony on the back of the house. Since it was a decent temperature, all the windows in the house were open, and also the doors to the balcony. A breeze fluttered through, warm and comfortable.

I changed into my nightshirt and walked out onto the balcony, gazing out into the dark sky. It was still early for me. I didn't tend to go to bed until after midnight usually, and I wasn't sure what I was going to do with myself for now. I was far too wired to go to sleep.

Logan could have given me a heads-up about the polyamory and all that, but I knew Logan too well. He hadn't found any of that important, so he'd paid it no mind. Other people might have thought the relationship was repugnant or enticing or just plain interesting, but he wouldn't have. Logan didn't think about those kinds of things.

I wondered what they all did for a living, because they had a big house with two guest rooms. This in addition to bedrooms for the kids and for all three of the adults. Some of that was in the finished basement, but it was still a lot of rooms. A house like this couldn't be cheap. Maybe if you had three salaries and you put it all together, it equaled lots of money.

There was a knock on my door.

Was it Eden, checking up on me?

I hurried over to tell her everything was fine.

But it was Naelen. He was holding the last bottle of wine, the one we hadn't gotten into earlier. "Hey," he said. "It's way too early for me to sleep. You want to hang out?"

"Okay," I said. I pointed. "I have a little balcony. There are chairs out there."

"Awesome," he said.

We settled out on the balcony. There was only one problem. We didn't have any glasses.

"We'll just drink out of the bottle," said Naelen.

I giggled. "But this is expensive wine."

"All the more reason," he said, raising the bottle high.

I snatched it from him and took a swig. Then I handed it back. "Here. Have some."

He took a long drink. "This house is great, isn't it?"

"I was just thinking it was awfully big," I said. "But I guess it's because of the finished basement."

"Yeah," he said. "Which basically doubles the space of the house. It's brilliant. But that's not why it's great."

"Why is it great?"

"It's just so warm and homey," he said. "Like The Waltons or something."

"What?" I said, taking the wine bottle back from him. "You're crazy."

"No, I'm serious. This is like living in a TV sitcom."

"They're polyamorous."

"So what? That's going to be a thing, soon, right? Polyamory sitcoms?"

I snorted. "I really don't think so."

"You don't think it's nice here?" he said. "You don't think they're nice?"

"They're very nice," I said. "I really like them. And the house is nice too. But I would figure that you... you must have a really great house, something that would blow this place out of the water."

He held out his hand from the wine. "I own things. Houses. Apartments. Whatever. Different city. Different place to sleep. All of them are mine."

I handed the bottle over. "But?"

"There's no 'but.'"

"Sounded like there was."

"Well, they just seem cold. Like my parents' house always seemed cold growing up. And I don't mean that they ought to have turned up the heat. I'm not talking about temperature."

"I knew what you meant," I said. "I'm sorry about that."

He shrugged. "Comes with the territory. There are so many things that dragons worry about, like keeping up appearances and making the proper social actions, and all of that. Everything feels forced. Fake. Nothing feels real."

"That sounds awful," I said.

"Right, and to make up for that awful feeling, I have scads of money," he said ruefully. "How awful could it be, really?"

"If you're lonely—"

"I'm not lonely," he said.

"I didn't mean it to be offensive," I said.

"I don't need someone to share my life with," he said. "I don't need a mate."

"I wasn't saying that," I said. "But... well, what do you think makes this house feel so warm to you? It's that there are so many people here, and they all love each other in their unique ways. They're a family."

He sighed. "Maybe."

We were quiet for a few moments. Overhead, the stars twinkled.

I took the wine bottle back. "I get lonely too, you know."

"You do?"

"There's only ever Gina around, and she's not really company. She's more like a problem I have to solve. I hate to say that about my own sister, because I love her. God, I love her more than anything. But sometimes, I just wish she could take care of herself a little bit. But then I wonder what I'd even do with myself if I didn't have to clean up her messes. I bet I'd sit around in my apartment doing nothing, or I'd go chasing after rogue dragons. I wouldn't know how to be on my own."

"And yet, you are on your own. In some ways, it sounds as if you've always been alone," he said, his voice deep and low.

I shrugged. "Well, I'm not alone now. You're here."

"That's right," he said. "If we had glasses, I'd say we should toast to that."

I laughed. I took a drink of wine, and then I handed it to him.

He took a drink of wine. He breathed in a long, slow breath and let it out. "I hope that everything is okay with Reign. If anything happens to her, I'll never forgive myself."

"We'll find her," I said.

"You know, she said my name before she said Dada or Mama."

"Wow," I said.

"I've always taken care of her," he said. "I know what you mean about feeling responsible for your sister. But, you know, you don't have to feel as though you're alone. I can help you. I really can. I know we're just working this job together, but after we find Reign, I'd like us to keep in touch."

"Okay," I said. "I'd like that."

"And so, any time you need me, you call me," he said. "I mean it. Any time at all."

"Look, I don't want to get in your way," I said.

"You're not. I'm offering," he said, setting the wine bottle down on the balcony between us.

I picked it up, but I didn't take a drink. "I don't like to cause extra work for people is all."

"You are not extra work," he said, and he grinned at me.

And just like that, my heart started thumping. Oh, what the hell was that? Why was I reacting to him in that way? Had I not spent most of the afternoon having it confirmed what an utter bastard he was? Besides, he wasn't trying to flirt with me. He was trying to be friendly.

"You know," he continued, "maybe once we find Reign and she's home and settled, we could do something else together."

"Like what?" I said.

"Oh, I don't know. Something to help people. Something that involves your skills and my ability to take my jet all over the place and spend ungodly sums of cash." He laughed.

"You have skills too," I said. "You're a dragon. You have magic. There's a lot more to you than just money."

"It's nice of you to say so," he said. "But I know how you see me, Clarke. You made that clear. You think I'm a rich playboy who doesn't care about anything except himself."

"I never said that."

"The way you were reacting this afternoon to my comments on polyamory. You don't think I'm a very nice person, do you?"

"I think you're fine."

"Look, I don't set out to hurt women when I get involved with them. I don't promise them things. I know you don't agree with it, but that doesn't mean I'm a bad guy."

I sighed. "You're not a bad guy, but you handle your love life badly."

"Oh, I do?" He snatched up the wine bottle. "And you? You don't even have a love life. You won't take any risks."

"So, you're attacking me now?" I said.

"I'm not attacking you," he said. He sighed. "Look, it's coming out all wrong. The thing is, Clarke, I think you're..."

"What?" I said. "A prude?"

He laughed. "No, I wasn't going to say that. But you did seem pretty overwhelmed with the polyamory stuff."

"I'm not overwhelmed," I said. "They're nice people. I certainly wouldn't break up their family. But it's not for me. I couldn't do that, what they do."

"Me either," he said.

"But earlier, you said that you—"

"Nah, you were right. I don't know about the long-term aspect of it. I don't think I want that hanging around my neck."

"Never?" I said. "There's no one you'd want to be with for a long, long time?"

He licked his lips. He set down the wine bottle.

"I mean," I continued. "You care about your sister, right? You wouldn't get sick of her after a few weeks."

"Living with her?" he said. "I might. But I see what you mean. I guess it might not be terrible being with someone. I still... I don't think..." He peered into my eyes. His voice dropped several decibels. "You know, I haven't properly thanked you for all the things you've done for me."

"I've screwed everything up!" I said.

"You haven't." He grabbed my hand. His voice was husky. "In some ways, forcing Cunningham's hand was a good thing. I never would have realized what I could do otherwise. Shifting into a dragon and breathing those fireballs was exhilarating. I didn't know I was capable of going after the bad guy that way. You've showed me a completely different side to myself."

I knew I should pull my hand out of his grasp, but I didn't. I felt shy and small right now. My heart was still pounding away in my chest. I looked into his eyes—his stumbling, haunting blue eyes. "Well, you're paying me, so that's thanks enough."

He smirked. "Clarke, you have no idea how amazing you are, do you?"

I blushed. I was glad it was dark, so that he couldn't see.

"And beautiful and strong and capable and fierce and brave—"

"You think I'm beautiful?" I said in a small voice.

His lips curved into a smile. "Very beautiful."

"So are you," I said, and then blushed harder. "I mean, for a man, you're very... nice to look at, and—"

He kissed me.

He leaned over the chair he was sitting in and caught my chin with one hand and brought my face up to his and our lips met. His lips were soft and warm against mine. I could smell his scent, which had a hint of something smoky and wild underneath it, as if I could smell his dragon self underneath his coiffed exterior. My body felt limp and warm and ripe. I wound my arms around his neck.

He teased my lips with his tongue, questing.

I opened to him.

And then he pulled me to my feet, and we were suddenly touching everywhere. He wrapped his arms around me, crushing my body against the firm, hot length of his body, and I felt as if I was a lit fuse.

Heat and desire rose in me as I burned down. I was going to explode in his arms.

His thorough kisses left me feeling weak-kneed. I clung to him to stay upright.

He pushed me back into the wall next to the open door. "Clarke." His voice was a rasp. "I know you have these... these rules or something about casual encounters..."

Now I was trapped between him and the wall, pressed between the cool hardness at my back and hot solidness of him in front. I felt like I was still sizzling toward something, zooming down like a jet airplane about to crash. I was losing control of myself. "Casual...?" What the hell was he talking about?

His hands skimmed my waist, and then he dug his fingers into my hips, holding me in place as his lips met mine again. He kissed me thoroughly, and then he broke away. "It's only that there's something between us. I know you feel it. I feel it. Kissing you is driving me insane."

I felt dizzy. He was affected by this? Kissing me did something to him? Impulsively, I ran my hands over his broad shoulders and then over his firm, muscular back.

"So?" He pulled away from me an inch, sucking in breath audibly. He searched my gaze with his own, a question in his eyes.

"What?" I said. I was out of breath. I was confused.

"So, let me make love to you," he whispered.

My jaw worked.

He reached up to run his knuckles over my cheekbone. "I've never wanted a woman the way I want you. I've never been this close to anything so fierce and strong."

Geez. I tugged him down and kissed him hard.

And then his hands were traveling up higher from my hips, over my waist, my rib cage, sending thrills through me. He eased my sleeve down, exposing my shoulder. He kissed me there.

I sighed, throwing my head back. Oh, damn it, what the hell was I doing?

He kissed my shoulder, my neck, my collarbone.

"Wait," I gasped.

He looked up at me, his breath labored. "What?"

"You want... you just want this to be a casual... thing? Like we do this, and then tomorrow, it's like it never happened?"

He chuckled, and his laughter was dark and pleasant. "It wouldn't be like it never happened. I wouldn't want it to be. I think I'll enjoy looking at you and knowing I've seen underneath your clothes. Speaking of which..." He hooked his fingers under my shirt and started to pull it up over my head.

I stopped him, struggling with him. "Wait!"

He let go of me, and annoyance flashed in his expression. "Clarke, what's wrong?" His voice was urgent. "You want me. I can feel how much you want me in the way you kiss me. And I want you. What's the problem?"

"I can't... I'm not like you." I wanted space now. I wanted to think. He was too close. His chest and his shoulders and his arms and his smell... I swallowed. "If we... if I let you... screw me or whatever, then it will... I'll feel things."

He raised his eyebrows. "What are you talking about?"

"Sex means something to me," I said.

He sighed. "You're turning me down, aren't you?"

I swallowed again.

"This is ridiculous." He stepped back, shaking his head. "What's between us right now is powerful. This kind of attraction doesn't happen every day. We'd be good together. I know it. The things I would do to you..." He looked me over, gaze lingering on my breasts, my hips, my legs, as if he was thinking through all the things he wanted to do. "You'd like it."

My body tingled in all the places he gazed at. I felt hot all over. I felt as though I was expanding. There was a sweet ache growing in my core. Damn him.

"Don't look at me like that," he breathed.

I bit my lip.

"Hell, Clarke," he muttered. "It's taking everything I have not to tear your clothes off and have you right against the door frame. Say you want it. Say yes."

My lips parted.

He took a step toward me.

I held up a hand to ward him off. I shook my head.

He groaned, shutting his eyes.

"I can't," I whispered.

"Clarke—"

"I think you should leave," I said quietly.

He hung his head. He didn't move.

I picked up the wine bottle and thrust it at him. "Go," I said, my voice stronger.

He went.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Once he was gone, I turned off all the lights and crawled into bed in my clothes. I didn't think I could bear to take anything off. I felt confused. I felt turned on. I felt unfinished.

What the hell was that?

I knew that a casual encounter was not for me. I knew that it would be cheap and tawdry. A moment's pleasure, but the pain it would cause me wouldn't be worth it in the end.

So why did I ache for him now?

If an ache could have a color, this would be a deep, deep red. Almost purple. Almost black. Like blood.

When I wanted Logan, that was a murky gray. All the color had been bled out of the way I felt for him. It was like ashes, like a fire that's long ago burnt out, but still has lingering embers.

This feeling I had for Naelen, it was so much more alive.

Naelen was right. I wanted him. And maybe it was nothing more than physical attraction, and maybe it would be easy enough to have my way with him. Maybe he was such a jerk that I could just get it on and not care in the morning. I mean, I wouldn't really develop feelings for him, would I?

Ugh. It had been easier when I had been able to hate him. Before I'd seen how much he cared about his sister or how he could rally for the occasion when we were in danger. Before I'd grown fond of him and he'd grown fond of me. Back then, I could shove it all to one side.

The sad truth was that I had developed feelings for him. Not romantic ones, not exactly. But friendly ones.

And our sexual chemistry was kind of off the charts.

I wasn't sure what that added up to, but it wasn't what I wanted from a man. I wanted more. I wanted the whole package. I wanted us to be good friends and to have sexual chemistry and to be committed to each other. Maybe it was a tall order, but the rest of my life was pretty crappy. I made compromises in lots of other areas. I simply couldn't in this area.

I'd done the right thing.

Anyway, even if he did want me in that way, I wasn't sure it could ever work.

We came from different worlds. He was rich. He was a businessman. He went to charity balls in tuxedos and attended mergers. He knew which fork to use for his salad. I didn't fit in that world. Not anywhere.

So, it was better that we kept things professional.

I was glad that I'd stopped things. I really was. It was better this way.

But I still tossed and turned for a long, long time before I got to sleep.

* * *

The next morning, I had a wine headache.

Gah. I should have had some water before bed. I hadn't been thinking. I'd been preoccupied.

Judging from the amount of throbbing my head was doing, I'd probably been more tipsy than I'd realized last night. No wonder I'd let Naelen kiss me.

Ugh.

I dragged myself out of bed. I knew there was a bathroom down the hall, and I thought that I'd just get myself a glass of water. I remembered seeing a little stack of paper cups in there.

But when I got to the bathroom, the door was closed.

I tried the knob. Locked.

I started to turn around and leave, but the door opened. A swirl of steam came out, and then there was Naelen in a towel. His chest was bare. It was wet. There were little droplets of water clinging to every swell of his muscular chest, every inch of his flat stomach. His hair was wet too. His face was. His neck...

I took a step backward. "I, uh... I..." I pointed behind me.

"Good morning, Clarke," he said.

How was it that he was so smooth when he was half-dressed?

I looked at the floor, feeling my face heat up again. God, I blushed all the time around him. "Sorry."

"You want the bathroom?" he said. "All yours."

"No, that's, um, that's okay," I said. "You go ahead."

"I'm done in here." He smiled at me.

I licked my lips. "Okay, then."

He stepped out of my way, to give me access to the bathroom.

I started to go inside. I stopped, one hand on the knob. I still wasn't looking at him. "Uh, we should maybe talk about last night."

"Okay," he said.

"Not now," I said. "After you're dressed. After I..." I pointed into the bathroom.

He yawned, rubbing his jaw. "I don't need to get dressed. Go ahead. What do you want to say?"

"Well, um..." I fiddled with the knob. "I just don't want it to be weird between us."

"It's not weird," he said. He shrugged, and the muscles in his shoulders all flexed.

I blushed again. I felt heat rushing to all the wrong parts of my body.

He leaned close. "You want to reconsider? I wouldn't mind another shower, if you want company."

I jerked back. "What?"

His voice was a purr. "You've got that look in your eyes again. The look you get when you're starting to get turned on. It's getting me worked up too."

"I don't have a... a look," I sputtered.

He chuckled. "I know this hallway isn't the place, but I can't seem to control myself around you." He advanced on me.

I backed into the bathroom.

He came in after me and closed the door. "I like the way you look first thing in the morning," he growled. "Your hair's cute all messed up like that. I have to admit I wish I was the one who'd done the messing up, though."

This bathroom was too small. "Get out." I pointed at the door.

He furrowed his brow. "Are you serious?"

"I know you're not used to people saying no to you, Naelen, but I'm saying it. No, no, no."

He shook his head at me. "You bewilder me, Clarke Gannon."

I was trembling. "Get out."

He left the bathroom, still shaking his head.

I locked the door behind him and leaned against it. My entire body was throbbing.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

"Have you ever heard of other worlds?" said Eden.

"You mean like other planets?" Naelen said.

The three of us were in the living room, and Eden was holding the arrowhead.

"No, I mean completely different worlds," said Eden. "Running parallel to this world. Some of them very similar to this place, others quite different."

"I guess so," said Naelen. "I mean, I've seen sci-fi television shows about that concept."

"Well, it's true," said Eden. "These objects come from another world, a world in which everything is magic. That's where the dragons came from too. That's why nothing in our world is magic except them."

"What?" I said, furrowing my brow.

Naelen laughed. "I didn't come from another world."

"Your ancestors did," said Eden. "This was all a very long time ago."

"Then how do you know that it happened?" I said.

"Well, because we have evidence in the form of the objects for one thing," she said. "And because there are ancient, ancient beings that walk this earth, and they remember. There are vampires who were old enough to have been some of the first people exiled here from the other world."

"I don't know about this," said Naelen.

"Me either," I said.

"Well, none of that's important," said Eden. "What's important is basically that there are nine objects, and that they have special powers on their own, without any dragon magic."

"Okay," I said. "And they came from another parallel universe."

"Like I said, forget that part if it's problematic for you," she said. "If you met Cunningham, you witnessed his use of the objects, I'm sure, but you still may have no idea of their scope." She picked up a small teddy bear off the ground. It was about five inches tall. It was blue. She tightened her hand around the arrowhead.

Suddenly, sitting right next to me was a perfect copy of the teddy bear. Only it was six feet tall.

I jumped.

Naelen yelled.

"How did you...?"

"That's what the arrowhead does," she said. "It's one of the objects in the manifestation class. As you know, magic in this world is limited to what dragons can do, except for a few mages who can somehow turn the compulsion magic inside out to be a little telepathic. One thing that magic can't do is manifest matter. But there are three objects that can."

I touched the teddy bear with one finger. It felt solid and fuzzy and real.

Eden held up her hand and suddenly, the teddy bear began to twist and deflate, like a balloon. It shriveled down to nothing and then a tiny trail of blue sparks traveled back into Eden's palm. "It takes a lot of energy to do that. The arrowhead steals from the user's own energy and converts it to matter. That's how it works, theoretically. If you overdo it, make too many things, or if you don't dismantle them, it can really take it out of you. Make you exhausted. Even sick. I've got two toddlers to chase around, so that's why I undid the teddy bear."

"We're not keeping you from your job or anything, are we?" I said.

"Oh, no," said Eden. "I stay home with the kids full time. Brian and Jocelyn go to work. But I sent the kids to my mom's house for the morning so that I could talk to you guys about this stuff."

"So, your mom knows that you're polyamorous, huh?" Naelen said. "She cool with it?"

"She's cool with anything that means that she has two grandbabies," said Eden.

We laughed.

"So, there are other objects that can make matter?" I said.

"There are," said Eden. "There are nine objects total, and there are three classes, each with three objects. The manifestation class contains the arrowhead, the comb, and the cup."

"And did all of these objects just show up here randomly?" said Nathan.

"I thought that part was hard to swallow for you guys," she said.

"Well, I just don't understand. Why nine objects? Why different classes? What are they here for?"

"A man brought them here. You see, originally, people in the other world sent criminals to our world. It was a prison world, a place to dump their problems. They chose it because it was empty, and because there was no magic here."

"What? We're like a giant Australia?" I said.

Eden laughed. "Well, in a way. And we've turned out all right, I think. Thousands of years ago, the people of this world rose up and sealed off the paths to the other world so that the people of that world would no longer be able to send anything or anyone here. But the man who brought the objects, he was sent before that. His name was Jacques. He brought the objects so that he would have power in this world. And while he was alive, he used them to do horrible things on this earth. So, he was eventually captured and executed. But before he died, he tied his essence to the objects. Supposedly, if you bring all the objects together and perform a ritual sacrifice, Jacques will come back and possess the person who's called for him."

"Eew," I said. "That's horrible."

"Do you believe that?" said Naelen. "Do you think some dead guy can possess someone?"

"I don't know," said Eden. "I do know that the objects behave erratically when too many are all in one place."

"Why would someone even do the ritual?" I said. "Why would someone want to be possessed by an evil criminal man?"

"Well, in Cunningham's case, it's because he's very arrogant. He's sure that he could control Jacques and could use the power for his own gain," said Eden.

I groaned. "Of course Cunningham's trying to do this. Great. Just perfect."

"It won't happen," said Eden. "There are people who are guarding objects, who will never allow Cunningham to get them. Don't worry. Besides, it's enough to worry about with the power he has already."

"Right," said Naelen. "He could compel me. He could compel a dragon. How was that happening? That's not from manifestation."

"No," said Eden. "I guess I need to go back a bit. Let me start with the different objects and classes. All right, the first class is the invisibility class. It's pretty self-explanatory. There are three objects that make the wearer invisible. The star, the scarab, and the pendant. Cunningham has one of them."

"That's why he disappeared in the woods!" exclaimed Naelen. "I told you he was just gone."

"Huh," I said. "How strange."

"Then there's the manifestation class, which you know about. Each manifestation object works a little bit differently. The cup allows someone to make more of a mass. For instance, if I had a glass of water, and I was holding the cup, I could make a river. Or if I had a handful of dirt, I could make an avalanche."

I nodded. "Okay, I get that."

"The comb," Eden continued, "Allows you to make copies of objects, but they must be the same size as the copy. So, I could make more teddy bears, but they'd all be clones. The arrowhead, however, allows you to make copies and to change features. Make the copies bigger or smaller or change their color."

I looked over at Naelen. "I think I'm starting to have trouble keeping all of this straight."

"It's a lot," said Eden, "but I'm almost done. There's only one class left, and that class is the power enhancement class. Each of those objects take whatever power is within the person wielding it and makes it more intense. That's how Cunningham was able to compel you. His power is bolstered by the stylus. The other power enhancing objects are the knife and the bell."

"And which of these objects does Cunningham have again?" said Naelen.

"The arrowhead. The stylus. The scarab. The comb."

"How do you know all this?" I said.

"I had a girlfriend once who was a captive of Cunningham," she said. "He told her all this stuff. And she managed to get away. She got this." She reached into her pocket and took out a leather strap with a tear-shaped pendant hanging from it. The pendant was rough-hewn out of a dull metal. Eden put one finger on the pendant.

She winked out of sight.

"Shit," I said, scrambling to my feet. "What the hell?"

"It's the pendant," came Eden's disembodied voice. "It's of the invisibility class." Suddenly, she popped back into sight and the pendant was hurling through the air.

Naelen caught it. He disappeared.

It made him invisible! But wait, she'd had it in her pocket all all this time, and we could see her. "How did you have it in your pocket and still be visible?" I said.

"You have to touch it to your skin," she said. "If you avoid that, it won't work. All of the pendants are like that."

"But I had the arrowhead in my pocket, and I could resist Cunningham's magic—hey, how come I could do that?"

"The objects don't work against each other," she said.

"But he disappeared in front of me while I had the arrowhead," said Naelen, still invisible. It was weird hearing his voice and not seeing him.

"Well, sure," she said. "But if you'd reached out and touched him, he would have become visible again," said Eden. "Same thing with the manifested objects. Let me back up for a second, though. If you touch an object and then keep it on your person, you still have its power, even if it's not touching your skin. So, you can touch something and then put it in your pocket and it still works. If it's close enough, it still works. There's a sort of, I don't know, half-foot radius around your person. Naelen, set the pendant down on the couch."

"Okay," said Naelen's voice. "Huh. Yeah. Still invisible."

"Move backward slowly," said Eden.

"Okay." Naelen was suddenly visible again. "Weird," he said. "So if I've touched the pendant and I'm within half a foot of it, it still works?"

"Yeah, that's about the way it works," said Eden. "You two should take that pendant with you. If you have the pendant and the arrowhead, you might have a chance against Cunningham. The only way you're ever going to defeat him is if you get all the objects away from him."

"All we want is my sister back," said Naelen.

"Oh," said Eden. "I guess I didn't ask why you were doing this. I assumed you were like Logan, running around solving problems, stopping bad people."

"We'll get the objects from Cunningham," I said. "We will."

Naelen hesitated and then he nodded. "Yeah. We'll do it. You're right. We have to do that. Cunningham can't be allowed to do this to anyone else's sister."

"Good," said Eden. "When you're done, though, you need to bring back the pendant to me. And if you have all of Cunningham's objects, we'll need to find safe places for them. It's a bad idea to have too many of the objects all in one place."

"Got it," Naelen said.

"Thank you for everything," I said.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Naelen backed the car out of the driveway of the Hudsons' house. "So," he said. "There's one thing I feel like we're glossing over here."

"Yeah?" I said. I was feeling awkward being around him. Was he going to proposition me again? If he did, I was going to have to put a stop to all of that once and for all. Actually, even if he didn't, I was going to have to put a stop to it.

"How the hell are we supposed to find Cunningham?" he said.

"I've been thinking about that," I said. "The objects are very powerful, right?"

"Right," he said.

"And Cunningham expels lots of power compelling everyone. Plus he's got other objects. Three of them all in one place, yeah?"

"Okay," said Naelen questioningly. He wasn't sure where I was going with this.

"Well, I think that kind of magic can be tracked. We'd just need a mage to do a spell to try to discover it."

"Oh," said Naelen. "Just a mage, huh?"

"I know someone," I said.

"A mage is a human who buys talismans made from dragon parts to do magic," said Naelen. "You want me to go talk to someone like that?"

"This mage is different," I said. "All her talismans were inherited."

"So?" he said. "So, the dragons that are dead are really old? They were still killed by people who wanted to steal magic from my people."

"Look, we don't have a choice," I said. "But I promise you that this mage is a good person."

"Whatever," he muttered.

I was quiet.

He sighed. We pulled out onto the highway, heading back for the airport. "So, where's this mage you know?"

"Back in Sea City," I said.

"Really?" he said. "And how long is it going to take to get Cunningham's location?"

"I don't know," I said. "But we don't have any other way to find him. Unless you've got a bright idea."

He was quiet.

"That's what I thought."

"Oh, come on. You know that you're always the one with ideas."

"Guess it's a good thing that I've got some other skills besides just making you want to jump my bones," I muttered.

"What?" He shot a glance at me. "You know that's not true. You have all the skills. Hell, that's probably the reason that I want to jump your bones. But I'm guessing that's off the table now."

I rolled my eyes at the ceiling of the car.

"What?" he said.

"Look," I said. "Despite what you may think of me, I am not one of those sluts who will crawl into your bed and then beg you for scraps the next day. I demand a little more respect than that. I'm not going to have some casual fling with you. I'm not wired that way. Sex means something to me."

"Yeah, you said that last night. You think it doesn't mean anything to me?"

"It obviously doesn't. You'll jump into bed with anything that moves."

"Hey, I do have standards."

"But those women are nothing to you. You don't care about them. You only want to use them."

He sighed. "I want them to use me too. It's very mutual."

"It's not mutual with me," I said. "That's not what I want."

He gripped the steering wheel tight. "Oh, you want me all right. You're lying to yourself if you think you don't."

"Whether or not I have a physical reaction to your advances is irrelevant."

"Irrelevant? Sex is all about the physical. It's all about feeling good. It's natural. It's positive. I don't see how putting a box around it and saying you can only do it within certain boundaries does anything except make everyone frustrated."

I glared at him. "You can't argue me into bed."

He sighed again. "I suppose not. But it is a shame, Clarke. A real damned shame that you won't reconsider. We would both have a very good time, I swear to you."

"That's not what it's about."

"Right," he said. "It's about denying your desires and making yourself stymied and frustrated."

"It's about doing it with someone who I care about, so that the whole experience isn't hollow and cheap and tawdry."

He laughed. "Nothing about me is any of those things."

"Whatever," I said. "I don't want to revisit this conversation again. And I don't want you to try to sleep with me anymore."

"Really? I can't even attempt to seduce you?"

"No."

"Fine. Message received," he said. "I will never try to touch you ever again."

"Good," I said. But when he said those words, I felt a small pang.

* * *

We left to go visit my mage directly from the airport after landing in Sea City. The mage's name was Robin Harris. She lived in an old lighthouse at the border of Delaware and Maryland. That far north in the city was dragon country, but Robin didn't mind. She was fearless. She gave tours of the lighthouse during the busy months of the season. She was a good person, not a bottom feeder like a lot of the other people in Sea City.

She greeted us at the door to the lighthouse. "Hey, Clarke. Glad you called ahead of time, because I was going to book a tour of the lighthouse." She was a wiry woman with dark hair—I could never tell if she dyed it black or if it was that color originally—and a big tattoo of a thorny vine with roses on it that curled over her shoulders and collar bone. She wore a white tank top and a pair of black jeans.

"Sorry," I said. "I don't mean to be a problem."

"You said it was important, right? What can I do for you?" She opened the door wider to let us in.

We stepped into the first room of the lighthouse museum, which was all decked out like it was the 1800s.

"This is Naelen," I said. "Naelen, this is Robin."

Naelen nodded at her coldly.

Robin took a step back. "What'd I do to you?"

"I'm a dragon," said Naelen. "You steal magic from my kind."

Robin's lips parted. "Hey, buddy, I don't steal anything. My order is ancient. We've always been friends to the dragons. In times of need, we were called upon for help. Every talisman we own has been passed down over generations, and it was freely given to us."

"Sure it was," said Naelen.

"Your family keeps artifacts from your ancestors, right?" she said. "You know how to make talismans out of them yourself? Who do you ask to help if you want one made? Someone like me, that's who."

He folded his arms over his chest. "I guess it's true that there are members of my family who have talismans. And I have heard of using our ancestors remains for that purpose, but I'm not really that much into that magic stuff."

"Don't act as if I'm part of the riffraff," said Robin. "If you're going to disrespect me, you can leave."

"No, it's okay," I said, glaring at Naelen.

He shoved his hands into his pockets. "We need your help," he mumbled.

"Oh, you do?" said Robin. "Well, then maybe you could try asking me nicely instead of insulting me in my own home."

"Hey, he's sorry," I said. "He's really sorry. Right, Naelen?"

Naelen nodded, staring at his shoes.

Robin sighed. "Sure. He looks just wrecked over it. What can I do for you, Clarke?"

"I need a spell that will track power. A big concentration of it."

"How much power we talking here?"

"Oh, I don't know..." I looked at Naelen. "Give me the arrowhead for a sec?"

He hesitated, but then pulled it out and handed to me. "This times three," I said, giving it to Robin.

Robin touched it and then dropped it, letting out a funny strangled noise. "What the hell is that thing?" she said.

I picked it up. "It's an arrowhead."

"Yeah, okay, I see that, but..." She shook her head. "Damn, girl. You do get yourself into the craziest messes, don't you?"

I shrugged.

"Times three?" said Robin.

"Yeah," I said.

"Well, a spell like that... I'm going to need some special ingredients. Expensive ingredients. I'm not sure you can afford them."

"How much money you need?" said Naelen, taking out his wallet.

"I don't know... maybe I could get by with five hundred," she said.

Naelen took out his cash and counted out seven hundred dollar bills. "Don't just 'get by,'" he said. "Get what you need. That be enough?"

"Yeah," she said, looking down at the money. "Thanks."

"How long is it going to take you to get the ingredients?" Naelen said.

"I guess you're wanting them yesterday?" said Robin.

"Pretty much," I said. "We're trying to save people."

Robin rubbed her chin. "Well, if I haul ass, I can get everything together by this evening.'

"This evening?" said Naelen. "That's hours away."

"And," said Robin, ignoring him, "a spell like this, I'm going to need to use the power of 'tween times. I have to do it at noon or midnight if I want to get the right results. Noon's out, so it's got to be midnight."

"Midnight?" Naelen sighed.

"Sorry, Mr. Dragon," she said. "That's the best I can do."

"We'll be back at midnight," I said.

* * *

Since we were back in Sea City for a bit and we had nothing pressing to do, I decided I'd go back to see Gina. I really hoped that she was doing okay in rehab, but I wasn't holding my breath. For all I knew, she'd up and run off the minute I left town.

But when I went to the gate and asked after her, I was told she was there, and that she could see visitors later on, after dinner.

To kill time beforehand, I went down to the beach, took off my shoes, rolled up my pants, and walked in the surf. It was peaceful looking out at the horizon. Every once in a while, I saw a swimmer or a boat, but mostly my view was uninterrupted. Just the water and the sky. I felt good. Happy. Safe. Nothing mattered, not the weirdness between Naelen and me or the fact that I was about to go up against Cunningham.

Everything was peaceful and serene.

I didn't walk for too long, though. My leg was still hurting a little bit from the place where Cunningham had made me stab myself. It wasn't crippling or anything, but it wasn't pleasant.

So I went to the boardwalk, and there was no more serenity. It was crowded and full of shops. I stopped and got some fries at Thrasher's, which is the only place to get fries in Sea City. Freaking delicious. I loved the place because they served two things. French fries. Soda. That was it.

They were the best fries in the city. Probably the best fries anywhere on the planet, really. And the way to eat the fries was with malt vinegar, not ketchup. They always had bottles of it sitting out on the counter, which I'd pick up and generously douse over the fries. Yum.

I saved some for Gina, but they wouldn't let me bring them into the rehab facility.

They escorted me to a visitor's center, which was a big room like a living room, except that it was all white. It had white walls and white carpet and was full of white sofas covered in white throw blankets. There were white end tables decorated with white candles. It was kind of weird. When I commented to the woman who'd escorted me there on it—a woman who was wearing a white dress and a white scarf over her head—she said that the pristine surroundings inspired purity within the faithful.

The faithful? What?

Anyway, then Gina showed up. But she was in one of the white dresses too. She didn't have a full white scarf on her head like the woman did. Instead, it was like a little triangular thing that tied behind her ears.

When she saw me, she beamed. She held out her arms to me. "Clarke, I'm so glad to see you."

I was a wee bit... disturbed by her appearance. But she was my sister, so I crossed to her and walked into her arms.

She gave me a huge hug. "How are you?"

"Uh, peachy," I said, pulling back. "What's, um, what's up with the outfit?"

"Oh, we all wear white here," she said. "The pristine color inspires purity within us."

"Right," I said. Where had I heard that before? Oh, yeah, from the crazy lady talking about the faithful. "Gina, I feel like maybe I didn't do a lot of checking into this place before I ponied up all that cash. Is this, uh, religious?"

"Oh, no," she said, shaking her head. "Spiritual, yes, but not religious. I feel as though I've taken the first step to not only healing my addiction, but to healing my spirit. And once my spirit is whole and pure, I feel certain I won't be tempted to take dice anymore. I'll be free of that horrible vice."

"No temptation at all? Really?" I wasn't an expert, but I didn't think that was how all this worked.

"Maybe at first," she said, shrugging. "But over time, it'll fade. The more that I resist and choose the white light within me, the more that I will be filled with it."

Okay, well... that was weird and a little hokey, but I figured it was probably sound. It was always hard to stop doing something at first, but it did get easier with practice. If she needed to believe there was a white light in her in order to accomplish that, well, there were worse things. I nodded. "So, you like it here?"

"I love it here."

"I have to admit," I said, chuckling, "I was afraid I'd get here and find out you busted free. It's happened before."

"This time it's different," she said. "This place is different. They're really helping me here. I feel like a completely different person."

"Yeah, you, uh, you look like one."

She laughed.

I didn't.

She took my hands in hers. "You could learn things here as well, Clarke. The white light flows through all of us, but things that we do can block up its path, keeping us stuck in old and painful ways. Coming here is like getting all those blocks removed, making sure you flow perfectly again."

"Mmm," I said, "like a spiritual enema. Sounds amazing."

She giggled. "Clarke! You shouldn't say stuff like that."

"Sorry," I said. "I'm find with my blockages for now, Gina. But if you're happy here, then I'm glad. If this is working for you, then whatever white light you want, I'm good with it."

She smiled at me. "Purity, peace, and patience is all we need."

I cringed. "Uh, right. Whatever."

She hugged me again. "Oh, I'm so glad to see you. You're my sister, and I love you."

I hugged her back, strangely touched by this. "I love you too." I peered into her eyes. "Always will, you know?"

"Always," she agreed.

* * *

At the stroke of midnight, Naelen, Robin, and I gathered around a small table on the bottom floor of the lighthouse. The room was only lit by candles, and the small table contained a map.

Robin set a shallow silver basin on top of the map. The basin glinted in the candlelight and I could see that it had been embedded with dragon scales. Robin began to toss things into the basin—herbs and powders and liquids. As she did, she intoned in a strange other language, one with harsh consonants and long vowels. She spoke strings of words and sprinkled something shimmery into the basin. She closed her eyes and plunged her fingers into the contents of the basin and said more ugly-sounding words.

She lifted her hands high, liquid and bits of herbs flowing down her arms. "So mote it be," she breathed upwards.

The air filled with something very akin to static electricity. There was a crackling feeling to it, the way it feels on very dry, very cold days. The energy in the air all seemed to be radiating from the basin.

Then she ran her fingertips around the edge of the basin.

It began to glow a strange ethereal turquoise color.

"So mote it be!" Robin yelled in a loud, scratchy voice.

The basin glowed brighter. The contents within it also started to glow.

And then they started to smoke. Wisps of it rose from the inside of the bowl, blue-gray and white. The smoke wreathed our faces, ringed us as if it were protecting our small circle.

Abruptly, Robin overturned the basin onto the table and the map.

The liquid sizzled as most of it began to evaporate and disappear into clouds of white smoke.

What was left gathered in glowing puddles on various places on the map.

"All right," said Robin, breathing heavily. There was sweat on her brow. She pointed to one of the puddles. "That's a prison, one seeded by dragon sacrifice, so we know it's not that one."

"Wait," said Naelen, "this is showing us all the places where there's a large concentration of power? Every single one?"

"The only thing as powerful as that arrowhead thing you showed me is dragon sacrifice," said Robin. "Well, maybe not the only thing, but it's pretty damned close."

"What's that?" I said, pointing to a puddle right over Sea City.

"That's Roxbone," said Naelen. "We have a prison for magical creatures here."

"No, that's Roxbone," I said, pointing.

"I have no clue," said Robin.

"It's right over the part of the city where Penny Caspian's hotel is," I said. "It's got to be something to do with her."

"Who's Penny Caspian?" said Robin.

"No one," I said. "Never mind. Let's eliminate that one. Come on, what have we got, guys?"

Naelen had to get out his phone and look up all the places seeded with dragon sacrifice, and we had to check each of the puddles against his list. But eventually, we had it narrowed down to two different places.

"So, one of these is Cunningham," said Naelen. "What's the other one?"

"Could be dragon sacrifice that no one knows about," said Robin.

"Could be more of the objects," I said. "There are nine of them. We've accounted for five of them here, but there are four more out there."

"Could be anything," said Robin.

"Right," said Naelen. "But we don't know which is which."

"We'll have to check them both," I said.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Naelen and I stood looking down on a tall, brick house. It was old. Must have been built quite some time ago. Stately and imposing, it towered over us.

"So, what happens if we don't come back later?" I said.

"The pilot is going to assume we're busy and go back home," said Naelen.

"Should we tell the pilot to alert the authorities?" I said. "Maybe you should call him and say that if we don't come back, to give this address to the police."

"We've got to take care of this ourselves," said Naelen. "You're the one who's always telling me how useless the police are against magic."

He had a point.

"All right, fine," I said. "So, hopefully, we'll have a plane to escape on later. Unless Cunningham kills us all."

"So, what should we do?" he said. "Go knock on the front door? Neither of us can be compelled by him since we both have an object. We've got our machetes." He patted his against his thigh.

"No way," I said. "Let's use the pendant and turn ourselves invisible so that we can sneak in."

"Oh," he said. "That's good. That's a good idea."

I shook my head at him. "You really don't have ideas much, do you?"

"I don't think that way," he said.

"All right," I said, pulling out the pendant by its leather string. "Now, as long as we stay close, it should work on both of—"

Suddenly, there was movement behind me, so fast that I couldn't react.

And then there was a sharp pain on the top of my head and a thudding sound, and reverberating waves of pain going through my head and neck and shoulders, and then—

Dark.

* * *

I came to with a massive headache. I looked around and found myself in a kitchen, slumped over a table covered in a red checkerboard tablecloth. I sat up slowly, blinking hard.

"Hey there, Clarke," said a voice.

I turned in the direction of it, still feeling woozy. My eyes focused on a fellow dragon slayer, an older guy named Otis Sanders, who I sometimes ran into at Happy Harry's. We were friendly, but we weren't what you would call friends. Rumor had it he belonged to one of those human supremacy groups, the Brotherhood. I didn't approve of crap like that.

"Otis?" I said. "Where am I?"

"You're here at this Brotherhood safe house," he said. "It's pretty new, and we got it all fancied up. Even called in some favors to make sure that magic don't even work here, just like at those jails they got."

I gulped. "This place is seeded with dragon sacrifice?"

"Yup." He grinned, looking proud.

Great. So, we definitely hadn't found Cunningham this time. But we also were in a bad spot. A place run by the Brotherhood wouldn't be kind to Naelen. And I didn't see him anywhere. "The ritual to use dragon sacrifice is magic," I said. "Thought the Brotherhood didn't hold with magic."

"Well, we got to do something to even the playing field," said Otis. "This way, when we bring the dragons here, they don't have the advantage."

"You bring dragons here, huh?" I said. "And, uh, what do you do with them?"

"Kill 'em, of course," he said. "Ain't any good dragon but a dead dragon. Now, the others with me, they said that since you was out there with a dragon, that you must be a sympathizer, but I vouched for you, Clarke. I told 'em that you were a slayer, and that you must have some good reason for being with a dragon."

I debated quickly. I could either defend Naelen and make a stand or I could play along and hope that I could find some way to get us both out of here. Playing along seemed like the best option. "Uh... yeah. He tried to hire me for a job, but he wasn't going to pay me until it was finished. I figured I'd just wait until the cash was in my pocket and then I'd kill him. Even had a good scheme for getting him to shift for me."

He chuckled. "That's what I thought. I knew you wouldn't be palling around with the likes of him."

"Of course not," I said, straightening up.

He patted me on the shoulder. "Good to have you here, Clarke. Good to have you."

I tried a smile. "Uh, so what's going to happen to him, then?"

"Happen to him?"

"Well, I brought him in, and I don't think it's really fair, you stealing him from me. His carcass would fetch a lot of money, you know. That's my money, near as I can figure."

Otis tapped his chin. "Well, I don't know about that. I don't know. I do know that he'll be executed later on this afternoon. We throw 'em in a tank of water and electrocute 'em until they shift. Then we blow 'em away."

Interesting. He could shift even though there was no magic in this place? So the shifting itself wasn't magic, then? It was pure biology? Strange.

"I can talk to others about making sure you get a cut of what he's worth."

"Not good enough," I said.

"Well," said Otis, "it might have to be."

I folded my arms over my chest. "Otis, you better find someone else that I can talk to about this. Someone who can get me my money."

"Now, now, don't be like that. I helped you out here. If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't be here talking to me, all free and clear, you understand that?"

"Sure, Otis," I said, smiling. "Where's the dragon now?"

"Locked up."

"Where?"

He drew in a deep breath, narrowing his eyes. "In the basement."

Crap, had that been too suspicious? Apparently, Otis wasn't as stupid as I thought he was. Time to save face. "Well, that's a good place for him, because he can't shift and fly out the window."

"Yeah," said Otis. "That's true."

"I'm glad he's secure," I said. "I wouldn't want you guys to lose him. I did a lot of work to get him myself."

"No, I realize," said Otis, sighing. "Look, there might be somebody I could talk to."

"You better hope there is," I said. "You better scurry off and find that person right now."

He considered. "All right, then. You wait here, Clarke."

I smiled. Wait here? Like hell was I waiting here.

I only waited as long as it took for him to be out of sight and then I eased my way out of the kitchen. I stood in the doorway and looked down a narrow hallway. Ahead of me, to my right, was a staircase that ascended to the upper levels of the house.

I tiptoed down the hallway.

It dead-ended into the front door. To my left, there was another doorway. The doorway opened onto another narrow hallway.

Man. This place was like a maze.

But there was some good news. Right next to the front door was a bow and set of arrows. The bow was bigger than I usually would use—it probably belonged to Otis or some other larger man—but that didn't mean I couldn't use it if I needed to.

Frankly, I'd have liked a different weapon for indoor use, but I wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

I picked up the bow and slung the quiver over my back.

I looked back the way I'd came. No one was there.

But I didn't like this. If I kept going, I'd have no way out besides running down this hallway. Well, I guessed there was the front door. Okay, fine. I took a deep breath and made my way slowly down the hallway.

This hallway opened onto a big room with a fireplace and a mounted deer on the wall, its antlers casting ominous shadows over the lack of furniture in the place. There was nothing in there. There weren't even any pictures on the wall. It was a dark, empty room, and I didn't like it.

I stepped into the room, and my footsteps echoed.

I liked that even less.

I took the bow out and three arrows. I moved through the room as quietly as I could, bow at the ready.

Where the hell was the basement? There needed to be stairs somewhere.

Actually, in most houses the stairs were stacked on top of each other, weren't they? That meant it was likely that steps to the basement were underneath the steps upstairs. But how to get to them?

I turned. There. That doorway. It would take me back in the direction I came, at least I thought so.

That doorway opened into another empty room, this one with scarlet wallpaper on the walls. It was peeling in places.

I kept walking in the direction that I thought the stairs would be in, still with one arrow notched and two more in my hand.

A noise.

Something. Behind me.

I whirled.

I didn't see anything.

"Clarke," called Otis's voice from the depths of the house. "Clarke, where are you?"

Damn it. He was coming after me.

I stowed the arrows in my quiver, and took off running in the direction that I thought the stairs should be.

I ran out of the red-wallpapered room, through another narrow hallway, through another empty room with wood paneling, and then down one more hallway. I rounded a corner.

And there was Otis. He was waiting for me, an arrow notched in a bow. "What are you doing, Clarke?

I reached back for an arrow of my own.

"Don't move," Otis snapped.

I froze. "Look, you were gone a long time," I said, gazing into the point of his arrow. At this range, he could pierce my heart easy. I was dead if he let that arrow go. "I went looking for you."

"Bullshit you did," said Otis. "You're trying to find the basement. Trying to free your damned dragon. I thought I could trust you, but you're actually on his side, aintcha?"

"No," I said.

"Well, look, there is no basement," said Otis. "I made that up to see what you'd do. The cells are all up on the next floor. But you been scurrying all over, looking for a basement don't exist."

"I was looking for you," I said stubbornly. "For anyone."

"You're a dragon-loving slut, and I don't see any reason for you to keep on breathing."

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Oh, geez, this didn't look good. "God damn it, Otis! I was looking for you."

"Lying bitch," he snarled. He squinted, and I could see that he was taking aim. He was going to shoot me.

In that case, there was absolutely no reason to stay still. I hit the floor, face first. And then I realized that something had fallen out of my pocket. I reached out for it...

And then a weird thing happened. I couldn't see myself. I wasn't aware of how much of myself that I usually saw. I figured maybe it was like those first-person shooter games, where you can see your arms, your chest if you look down. I wasn't aware of the fact that I usually could see my brow above my eyes or blurry hints of my eyelashes. That I could even see the tip of my nose out of the corner of my eye.

Now, I couldn't see any of that.

Because I was invisible.

My hand closed around the pendant, which had fallen out of my pocket.

But this place was seeded with dragon sacrifice. There shouldn't be any magic here. Of course, it stood to reason that the only magic that dragon sacrifice would cancel out would be dragon magic, and the pendant was something other than that. So... it worked.

I was invisible!

"What the hell?" said Otis, dropping his bow and arrow. He ran towards me, stomping his feet on the ground. "Where are you?"

I backed away, narrowing avoiding his boots' crushing my fingers.

"What'd you do? Where'd you go?"

Carefully, quietly, I got to my feet and then I backed up the hallway, keeping an eye on Otis, who was stomping around the place that I'd disappeared and swearing loudly.

"Otis!" called a voice. A man came down the stairs.

"Wayne, I lost her!" yelled Otis.

By now, I was back in the big, cold room with the deer on the wall.

Wayne, a portly guy wearing a camouflaged baseball cap, came lumbering through the room. "What do you mean you lost her? Where'd she go?"

"I don't know. She disappeared."

I tiptoed past Wayne, which wasn't easy, because this stupid room was pretty echoey.

But they were yelling at each other, which helped mask the sound.

"Disappeared? What the hell do you mean? People don't just disappear."

"Well, she did! She was right there and then bang! Gone."

I went back the narrow hallway that led to the front door. I started up the steps. The voices of Wayne and Otis faded into the distance.

A woman appeared at the top of the steps. "Wayne?" she yelled. She started down the stairs.

I stepped to the opposite side, sucking in my breath.

She hurried past me. "Wayne, what the hell happened?"

I crept up the rest of the steps as quickly as I could.

At the top of the steps, I emerged into a large room with sets of shackles hanging off the walls.

There was Naelen. He was chained up, arms high above his head, feet chained to the floor. His face was red and swollen. His lower lip was cracked and bleeding. His right eye was surrounded by puffy red skin. His cheeks and forehead were covered in tiny little wounds. His shirt was bloody too and torn in several places.

They'd beaten him. They'd taken him into this place where there was no magic, chained him up, and laid into him.

I swallowed hard, feeling rage at Otis and the others start to fill me.

There was no one else in the room. Maybe the woman had been the guard? Or Wayne? I wasn't sure. But I did know that I had to get Naelen out of there. What was I going to do about the stupid chains?

And then someone else came into the room. Another woman. She was wearing a leather vest with fringes on it. She folded her arms over her chest and glared at Naelen. Attached to her belt was a big ring of keys.

I needed those damned keys.

I felt in my quiver. Did I have any tranquilizer arrows left?

Yes!

Perfect. I notched the arrow and took aim. Well, best as I could without being able to see the arrow, anyway.

There was a twang when I released the arrow.

"What?" said the woman, whirling. She turned just in time to see the arrow snap into existence in front of her. She screamed.

Great. That was just what I needed.

The arrow hit her in the leg. She clutched the wound and yelled. "Help! Help me! Oh my God, there's someth—"

And then the tranq took hold and she toppled over.

"Clarke?" said Naelen.

"Yeah," I said, darting forward and snatching up her keys. They disappeared as soon as I was holding them.

Then I ran over to Naelen. "Just give me a second and I'll have you free," I said. When I touched the key to his chains, he and the chains winked out of sight.

"Whoa," I said.

"Yeah," he said. "Hurry up. They heard her. They'll be coming."

I worked at the lock at his feet as quickly as I could. It came free. "I don't know if I can reach your hands."

"Hold on," said Naelen. "I think that I can move it down to you." The sound of chains rattling over the bolts that held them up.

"Peggy!" yelled Otis's voice from below. "Peggy, what happened?"

Footsteps coming up the steps.

I stood on tiptoe, feeling around for the lock...

They were coming. They were almost there.

I found it, working the key in it as quickly as I could. It gave, and Naelen was free.

I clutched him, making sure we were both invisible.

Otis, Wayne, and the other women appeared at the top of the steps. They all ran for Peggy.

"Holy fuck!" said Wayne.

The woman pointed. "The dragon's gone!"

I tugged at Naelen. He seemed to understand right away. Together, we began to inch our way around them, toward the steps.

"Where'd he go, where'd he go?" said Wayne.

"She got him out," said Otis.

"But how?" said the woman.

We just kept right on inching our way free of that place.

* * *

We stayed close and stayed invisible until we were far out sight of the house.

Then I stepped away from Naelen and dropped the pendant. We both popped back into sight.

When I saw his injuries again, I winced. "Geez."

"What?" he said.

"You're just... they beat you so bad," I said.

"I couldn't do anything about it," he said. "They had me chained up, and my magic didn't work. I could feel that place sucking it all out of me. It was cold. So damned cold." He shuddered. "But I just need someplace to shift."

"Oh," I said. "Right. Of course." When dragons shifted, they healed all their wounds. "Well, maybe if we look at a map or something, we can find some water somewhere." I pulled my phone out of my pocket and opened up my maps application. I searched around for a minute. "There. That looks like a lake or something, right?"

"It'll have to do," he said.

I picked the pendant back up and we headed in that direction.

"You okay to walk?" I asked him. We were walking through fields with sparse trees. I was a little worried about the fact that we weren't far enough away from the Brotherhood's house, but out here, Naelen would have magic if they showed up, and we could always go back invisible again.

"Yeah, they mostly concentrated on my face and upper body," he muttered.

I tried to look at him again, and I almost couldn't do it. "It looks really bad."

"I'm fine," he muttered. "Or I will be when I shift."

"Okay," I said. I got it. I didn't like being reminded of my weaknesses either. I tried to pretend like everything was normal. We were just out for a stroll in the country.

We passed some electric lines up on poles, cutting through the field. I guessed civilization was pretty close by.

"Being beaten wasn't the worst of it," he said.

"No?" I said.

"Or it was, but not because of the pain or anything."

"Because they hate you for no reason other than you were born with magic?"

"Well, that's screwed up too," he said. "No, the worst of it was feeling helpless. I hate feeling helpless."

"I don't think anyone likes that," I said quietly.

"It reminds me of being a kid, you know? Being too young to change things, to make things better for me and Reign. And when I was strung up in there, and they were wailing on me, all I could think was how badly I was failing her. And I'm all she has."

"I know," I said. I patted his shoulder.

He flinched.

"Sorry," I said. He was hurt there. I was an idiot.

He swallowed. "You know, when Reign and I were kids, my parents used to bail on us all the time."

"What do you mean?"

"They were so in love with each other that they'd forget about everything else in the world, including their damned kids. Sometimes, they'd go to some event in the evening and forget to come home until morning. Sometimes, they'd jet off on a vacation on a whim. Just up and leave. No thought for us at all. I mean, it wasn't horrible, because we'd be abandoned in a penthouse apartment where groceries were delivered and stuff, so it wasn't like we were starving. But it was basically like we raised ourselves, you know."

I was quiet. "Or like you raised Reign."

"Yeah." He nodded. "I took care of her. I did whatever I could for her. And so, I mean, that's... that's what terrifies me the most. That's why I'm never going to fall in love. Because I don't want to be consumed that way. It doesn't seem right to me to be so caught up in one other person that everything else fades."

"No," I said, "I guess it doesn't. But, to be fair, maybe that was just your parents."

He turned to me. "What?"

"Well, I know you talk about the dragon bond a lot and everything, but if every mated pair of dragons behaved like your parents did, then certainly we'd all know about it, because dragon families are practically celebrities. So, some people must manage it okay."

He sighed. "No, it changes people. I had a buddy in high school. Met his mate early, like when he was sixteen. That doesn't happen often. Lots of dragons don't meet their mates until much later in life. Anyway, the minute he met his mate, that was it. He was obsessed with her. They got married. They had kids. He was just... swallowed up into this whole other world where that was the only thing that was important."

"Yeah, but was he neglectful of his children?"

"That's not the point," said Naelen.

"I think it is. You resent your parents, and with good reason. It sounds like they were crappy parents. But that doesn't mean if you loved someone you'd become a crappy parent too."

"You're completely missing the point."

"Oh," I said. "Sorry. I guess I thought... What is the point?"

"The point is that the dragon mating bond makes you do things that you wouldn't choose to do without it. And it makes you like it. Talk about being helpless, Clarke, that's the worst kind of helpless there is."

I was quiet.

"You don't agree?"

"I just never thought about it that way before. I don't have to worry about some kind of mystical mating bond. I get to choose who I fall in love with."

He turned to me sharply. "Choose? You think that's really true? Even without a bond, look at those crazy polyamorous people we just met. You think if they were really honest with themselves, they'd freely choose to be freaks like that?"

"Freaks? I thought you were cool with their lifestyle."

"I am cool with it. But the vast majority of people are weirded out by it," he said. "Who chooses to live that way? To be that different?"

"Some people do," I said.

"Nah," he said. "That gets chosen for you. Something happens and you get stuck and you can't get free, so you make the best of it."

I shook my head. "I don't think so. I think we have a say over our lives. I'm not saying there aren't factors. For instance, I'm not going to be attracted to every single man in the world. That I can't really control. But even if I'm drawn to someone, that doesn't mean that I have to give in to it."

"Right," he said. "You can fight it."

"Yeah," I said. "Like me and Logan, for instance. I don't have to—"

"You're drawn to Logan?" He glared at me with his ruined face.

I stumbled at the sight of him. He was fearsome. I tried to speak, but I just stammered some syllables.

His voice was dark. "What's the difference between the way you're drawn to Logan and the way you're drawn to me?"

I licked my lips. "We should find the lake."

"You are drawn to me," he rasped. "I can tell that you are."

I put my head down and walked. "You said you wouldn't do this."

He stepped in front of me, blocking my path. "I said I wouldn't try to seduce you. I'm not. I'm simply trying to figure you out. Logan makes you sad. Deeply sad. And yet you still want him. But I have done nothing to hurt you, and you won't go near me."

"I'm not going near Logan either." I tried to move around him.

He took me by the shoulders, holding me in place. "But you have. You've slept with him."

"That's none of your business. And let go of me."

"Haven't you?"

"We were together. He was my boyfriend."

He narrowed his eyes. "What if I was your boyfriend?"

"You're not. You don't want to be. You... you make a very big deal about how much you don't want to settle down with someone."

He let go of me. "I never thought about being with someone—really being with someone—who wasn't a dragon. It's not done."

"I know that." Of course it wasn't done. What was he saying?

He turned around and started to walk. He didn't turn around, but his voice carried. "So, that's it? That's the only difference? He was your boyfriend?"

I stood, rooted in the spot. "Well... at the time, I wanted him to be my boyfriend."

He kept moving. "And you don't want me to be your boyfriend?"

"I... why are we talking about this? It's idiotic. That's never going to happen, anyway."

He crested over a hill, and then he disappeared.

I started moving. "Is it?" I called.

No answer.

By the time I caught up, I only got a glimpse of him diving down into the water of the shimmering lake. His clothes were in a pile on the bank.

When he surfaced, he was in dragon form. He rose up out of the water and flapped his wings—his emerald green scales glinting in the sunlight. Water dripped off of him. He was magnificent.

Then he dove back down into the water.

In a moment, his human head came back up. He was perfectly healed, his beautiful features all intact.

I turned away. I didn't want to see him without his clothes.

In a few moments, he joined me, fully clothed, but his clothes were blood stained and damp, clinging to his wet skin. He ran his hand through his wet hair. "Hey," he said.

I looked at him sidelong. "Hey."

"I'm sorry," he said. "You know, you and Logan... I'm not trying to stand in the way of that."

I gaped at him. "What? That's what you say to me right now?"

"You said you were drawn to him," he said. "After all the ways he's hurt you, you're still drawn to him. I don't get that. At all."

I groaned. "It's complicated."

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

"We knew each other when we were kids," I said. We were back on the jet. The pilot hadn't even done more than go get something to eat. Now, we were flying to the next location, which would hopefully take us to Cunningham, the objects, and Reign.

"You told me that," said Naelen, coming out of the bedroom area, pulling a new shirt over his head. The bedroom on this plane looked pretty comfy. I guessed if you had a private jet, you could deck it out however you wanted.

"I don't have to tell you anything."

"I wish you would," he said. He gazed at me with his blue, blue eyes. "I've been rather open with you about things I don't tend to like to talk about. I trust you. I wish you would trust me too."

I sighed. "It's hard to talk about. It's all..."

"Complicated?"

I laughed helplessly. "Really damned complicated."

"Start at the beginning."

I rubbed my forehead. "After my parents died, Gina and I got shuffled around to various foster homes. We always stayed together. We made sure of that. Gina's older than me, and she—"

"Wait, she's your older sister?"

"Yeah," I said.

"Huh," he said. "I thought it was the other way around for some reason. I guess because you're always taking care of her."

"When we were little, she took care of me. But then we got put in this foster home and..." I sighed. I didn't even know how to talk about this.

"And something happened," he said. "Something bad?"

"That's where I met Logan," I said, purposefully evading his question. "For a while, it was a good place, because the woman who ran it, she was really sweet. Her name was Angela Clarice. Mrs. Clarice. But we all called her Mother Angela, and she took in as many kids as she had room for. Didn't care what kinds of kids. Magical creatures, crack babies, anyone was welcome."

"Thank you for lumping me in with crack babies," said Naelen.

I made a face. "Well, you know what I mean. There are foster homes out there who see those things as equally undesirable."

"Okay, okay," he said. "I guess you're right. So, if she was so nice, then why wasn't it a good place?"

"She was too nice," I said. "A man came back, one of her old foster kids. He told her some sob story and said he needed a place to stay just until he got back on his feet. She let him stay, because she had a big heart. And he did help her out around the house. He would mow the lawn and do repairs on the cars and even do the laundry and vacuum and stuff like that. But he... something was wrong with him. He was..." I chewed on my lip.

"He was what?" Naelen leaned over the seat he was sitting in, intent on my story.

"Mean," I said. "Cruel. Horrible. He liked hurting things. People. He could hide it. He could act as if he was the nicest, sweetest guy, but deep down, there was something wrong with him."

"He hurt you?" said Naelen.

I shook my head. "Not me."

He sat back in his chair. "He hurt Gina."

"He hurt her bad," I said. "And not... not in an obvious way either. She wasn't cut up or bruised or..." My voice got weak. "I don't know what exactly he did to her, but afterward, she was never the same. She was broken."

Naelen grimaced. "Jesus."

"Logan was my friend," I said. "Most of the kids didn't like him, and he was only awake at night, and he was alone a lot. But I would stay up with him and we would go exploring in the attic or running around in the barn. There was this barn there. It was, um, it wasn't really a barn anymore. They were fixing it up and turning it into these apartments and Mother Angela was going to rent them out for extra money, because she never had enough money for everyone. Her only income was from the state, from the foster kids, you know? So, she was turning this barn into apartments, and that was where Max was staying."

"Max?"

"He's the one who hurt Gina."

"Oh, okay," said Naelen. "Got it."

"Well, anyway, we used to play over there. I mean... sort of play. We were a little old for..."

"How old were you?" said Naelen.

"Gina was fourteen," I said. "I was twelve. Logan was thirteen." I swallowed. "Max was so much bigger than him. I remember that back then, I was taller than Logan. It's the way things are with girls and boys. He hadn't gone through his growth spurt, and I had at least three inches on him. Max was... like a giant."

"What happened?" said Naelen.

I wished I had a drink. If we weren't heading to fight Cunningham, I'd ask for something. Something potent. "Max was huge, and he towered over Logan, but Logan was strong. Gargoyles are so strong." I shook my head. "Even still, when Logan jumped on him, Max fought back, and I was afraid..."

"Wait a second, Logan went after Max?"

I nodded. "Yeah. It was my fault. I said that I wished I could kill him."

"Kill Max."

"Yes. He hurt my sister, and she was all I had. And I wanted him to pay. I wanted him to..." I looked away. "But when it happened, when he was finally... There was so much blood."

Naelen was quiet.

"I think it messed with him."

"With Logan?"

"Yeah, I think it messed with his head. It messed with my head. I think it was a hard thing to do, to kill someone, even a bad someone. I mean, I know it is. I've had to kill vampires before, even drakes. Always because my life was in danger, but that doesn't mean that it didn't... affect me. I don't know, though. Maybe I could do it because I saw..."

"He killed him? Logan killed Max?"

I nodded. "And then Logan ran. He's been running ever since."

"He's still running from the law?"

"No," I said. "Everyone thought it was an accident. No one ever tried to pin it on Logan, even though he'd run away at the same time. Foster kids run away, you know. It's pretty common."

Naelen let out a long, slow breath. "An accident? I don't understand."

"We threw Max's body out of the loft, down onto the ground. So, everyone thought he fell."

Naelen rubbed his forehead. "That's awful, Clarke. That's just... Hell, I feel like such a whiny idiot going on about my parents abandoning me when you were going through—"

"No, don't," I said. "Pain is pain. Your pain matters. I don't ever want you to think it doesn't."

"So, you feel grateful to Logan?"

"He killed someone for me. I feel... we have some kind of bond, I guess. We always will. He's important to me. After Max was gone, living with Mother Angela was good again, and Gina and I stayed there for a while. Then Gina became a drake, and we had to run too. But no matter where we were, Logan always found us. And when you're sixteen years old, and this guy who's literally willing to kill for you tells you he loves you, you... how do you say no to that? Besides, I care about him too, I just..."

Naelen waited.

"I just wish he wasn't so intense sometimes," I said. "And I wish he wasn't so... damaged. I don't exactly have the healthiest of psyches myself. How am I supposed to be with him when I'm not even sure I'm capable of coping with my own issues? Between him and Gina, sometimes I feel overwhelmed. Is it too much to ask to be with someone who can take care of himself?"

"No," said Naelen. "Not too much to ask at all. In fact, I think that's a prerequisite for a healthy relationship." He shrugged. "Not that I know much about healthy relationships, mind you."

I laughed softly.

He laughed too, a little.

We were quiet.

"So," he said. "You're not going back to him, then?"

I shook my head. "No."

"You're sure of that?"

"Yes." I furrowed my brow. "Why does it matter? Just because I'm your friend and you care about me?"

He sucked in a thoughtful breath. "You know, I'm not sure. I find that when I think of you with another man, it makes me uncomfortable. I don't know what that's all about."

"You have no right to care about what I do with my own body," I said.

"I know that." He massaged the bridge of his nose. "But theoretically, I could have a right to care if I were to lay claim to you somehow, yes?"

"What?" I shook my head. "No. Absolutely not. I'm not a piece of property. I don't get claimed."

His gaze raked over my skin, lingering over the parts of my body. "But if I agreed that I would be exclusive to you, then you'd be exclusive to me?"

"What are you asking me?"

He raised his gaze to my eyes, but he lowered his voice. "You do want me, Clarke. You want me right now. You're probably wet for me and getting wetter as I say this."

My jaw dropped. "Stop being vulgar."

He reached for me, and he tugged me over onto the seat with him, so that I was on his lap.

I struggled. "After the story I just told you, you can't possibly think I'm in the mood for this."

His breath tickled my ear. His voice was low. "Are you kidding? It all comes from the same place. Sex, fear, violence. It's all... primal." His hand went to the button of my jeans.

I seized his wrist, stopping him. "What are you doing?" But my pulse was racing and my body felt all strange and tingly this close to him, and there was a heaviness between my thighs, and hell, he was right. I was aroused. But that didn't mean anything. It was just a stupid reaction my body was having.

He nuzzled my neck. "Let me touch you. Please."

"Naelen, you are seriously—"

"If it's all about this commitment business, then fine. I'll swear off other women, and I'll only be with you. Just let me have you. Right now. God, Clarke, let me—"

The voice of the pilot broken in over the speaker in the room. "We're beginning our descent. We're looking at arriving within ten or fifteen minutes."

He chuckled in my ear. "Ten or fifteen minutes, huh? I can work with that."

"Get your hands off me," I breathed.

"You sure that's what you want?"

"Yes," I said, but my voice wasn't strong.

He let go of me.

I vaulted off his lap, but my legs weren't steady. I reached out and grabbed something to keep myself upright. God damn it. I was very turned on. Again. That dick.

"Quick flight," he smirked at me.

"You're an asshole," I said. "If I didn't care about saving your damned sister, I would leave the minute we landed and find my own way home. You can't just... assault me like—"

"Oh, please. I barely touched you. There was no kissing. There was no stroking or petting or—"

"Stop," I said. I took several deep breaths. "No more of this, Naelen. No more."

"Later," he said. "Later, we will continue this conversation."

Like hell. I didn't want to continue the conversation, and that was only because some weak, stupid part of me not only wanted the conversation continued but wished that I'd let him unbutton my pants. That part of me needed to be squelched.

No, this was not going to go on. We'd kill Cunningham, and then kaput. The end. No more Naelen Spencer in my life.

* * *

Cunningham's new digs was a sprawling one-story house in the desert. It was very modern, but it had the aesthetic of something old and native. It looked as if it had been built from adobe and it had a terracotta tiled roof. But it was also quite updated and posh. It had central air and little brick pathways around landscaped beds of cacti and desert flowers.

I wasn't sure how Cunningham had managed to find a place like this so quickly. Did he rent them? Did he own them? Maybe he owned houses all over the country, and he just flitted from one to the next. Could you use the arrowhead to make money? Was that how he did it? With magical copies of cash?

We scoped out the house for a while, but it was incredibly hot outside, and we were fairly sure we weren't going to see anyone coming or going from the place. We were going to have to get inside somehow. We knew from previous experience that Cunningham didn't seem to lock his doors—at least he hadn't in Highpoint, anyway. We couldn't be sure if he'd wisened up.

We had more problems than just Cunningham, of course. There were two other vampires—Mara-or-Eloise, whichever was left—and Edmund Stevens. Each of them would probably have an object of some kind.

But that was all right, because each of us would have an object. After some discussion, we decided that I'd keep the pendant and Naelen would take the arrowhead, only because he was better with magic and we thought he might be able to wield the copy-maker better than I could. If there had been a body of water handy, he would have taken the pendant, because an invisible dragon would have been pretty freaking handy right about then.

But we were in the middle of the desert, so no water was around.

And we had waited to have this conversation until after telling the jet pilot we wouldn't be needing him for hours. We could have waited, I suppose, but every second that we did was another that something horrible could be happening to Reign. Naelen was insistent we get going.

So, I took out the pendant, and I touched it. I disappeared.

I reached out and found Naelen's hand.

I tried not to think about how big Naelen's hand was or about how I could smell his unique scent being this close to him or about how I could still remember the way he kissed and it made my stomach do flip-flops.

We approached the house.

We entered a room that might be called a den. It was lined with bookshelves and there were several leather easy chairs sitting around a small round table. There was an ashtray on the table and some cigar butts in it.

Carefully, quietly, I shut the door behind us.

But the sound of the door shutting was still clear as a bell.

I froze. Naelen froze.

He squeezed my hand.

We waited.

I realized I was holding my breath. I let it out.

Naelen tugged at my hand.

I guess he figured we were in the clear. Time to get moving forward.

We moved through the room, between the easy chairs, avoiding the table and the ashtray, heading toward the doorway.

But then someone stepped into the doorway. It was Edmund Stevens. He furrowed his brow, looking around the room.

We stopped moving again.

He stepped into the room, inches from us.

We backed up.

"Mara?" he said. "Is that you? Are you running around invisible again?"

We didn't answer.

"I heard the door close," he said. "I know someone's in this room. Stop playing games with me." He took another purposeful step into the room.

We backed up again. We backed right into the table.

The ashtray rattled against it.

"Aha!" Edmund reached for us.

We evaded him with inches to spare.

"Oh, Mara, don't be like that." He rolled his eyes. "I think you're boring anyway."

"Well, I'm not trying to entertain you," said Mara, who had just appeared at the doorway, holding up a small comb with several teeth missing. "I've got the comb, not the scarab."

Edmund looked back at Mara, and then down at the table. "I could have sworn..."

I decided there was no time to act like the present. I let go of Naelen.

He became visible.

Edmund yelled.

Mara yelled.

Naelen made a little noise of surprise.

I yanked three arrows out of my quiver and sent them all sailing at Mara.

Edmund dove for Naelen.

Naelen struggled to get his machete out.

One of the arrows hit the wall behind Mara.

Edmund bared his fangs.

The next arrow hit Mara in the shoulder.

Naelen pulled the machete free.

The third arrow burrowed in Mara's neck. Blood arced out of the wound.

I ran for her.

Naelen stabbed Edmund in the gut.

Edmund shrieked.

Mara put a hand to her bleeding neck, her eyes wide.

I got out my machete.

Naelen yanked his out of Edmund's body.

I swung.

Naelen swung.

Two vampire heads toppled right off.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

"Clarke," whispered Naelen.

"I'm here," I said. I was still invisible. I reached down to pick up the comb that Mara had been holding.

He was going through Edmund's pockets. "I'm not finding any objects here," he said.

"Well, maybe Cunningham has them both," I said. I crossed the room to Naelen and touched him.

He winked out of sight. He let out a little startled noise. "Hey, warn me before you do that."

"Sorry," I said.

"What's left?" he said.

"The scarab and the stylus," I said. "The stylus is the power enhancer."

"And the scarab?"

"Makes you invisible," I said.

"Great," said Naelen. "So, he could be anywhere, then?"

"Yeah," I said grimly.

"Let's get moving," he said.

We stepped out of the den and into a large high-ceilinged great room. There was a wall of glass opposite us, with floor-to-ceiling views of the desert. A sectional couch sat in front of the glass wall. Behind the couch was a huge brick pillar that contained a fire place. The floors were all polished stone slats.

It was empty.

Where were all the blood slaves?

Where was Reign?

I peered to my left, where the great room continued. A breakfast nook near a stained-glass window, a yellow lamp hanging over the table.

Then a dining area. Big rectangular table surrounded by chairs. In the middle, a flowering cactus.

And tucked in the far left corner, the kitchen—sleek and clean—its polished counter tops gleaming.

But that was empty too.

To my right, there was a hallway. I could see about ten feet down it, but then it twisted, turning off to one side.

Well, we had to go that way, right?

Unless Cunningham was sitting on one of those couches, invisible, waiting for us.

Wouldn't he have come to the aid of his fellow vampires when he heard them crying out?

Naelen tugged at my hand, leading me toward the hallway. He'd already decided where we were going.

I let him lead me.

Our footsteps seemed loud on the stone floor. I tried to go more quietly, to ease my feet against the ground, but it wasn't any use with Naelen clomping along next to me.

A loud bang rent the air, and then I saw something hurling through the air.

A bullet? Had a gun—

Naelen screamed, letting go of my hand. He staggered backwards, turning visible.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

"He shot me." Naelen was doubled over on the ground. His voice was strained and hurt.

I had my bow and arrows out. I was pivoting, looking all over the room. "Where is he? Where is he?"

Another shot.

I tensed, waiting for it to hit Naelen.

But Naelen just let out a shaky breath.

And I let an arrow loose at the place I thought the bullets were coming from.

My arrow froze in midair and fell to the ground.

Great. Cunningham was invisible and the stylus was enhancing his telekineses to the point that he could stop objects hurling toward him at top speed. Also, while he might not be able to directly use magic on either of us, considering we had objects as well, that apparently had no bearing on the arrows I'd shot.

I knelt next to Naelen, touching him so that he was invisible again. I hauled him to his feet.

He groaned.

"Shh," I hissed as quietly as I could.

I dragged Naelen with me over to the sectional couch. I set him down there and climbed up next to him. I peered over the back of the couch, arrows at the ready. I wanted to ask Naelen where he was hit and how bad it was, but I didn't dare give away our position by making noise.

I wondered if he was bleeding badly. Would the blood stay invisible even as it was staining the couch?

What was I going to do? What was I going to do?

"Well, well, well," said the disembodied voice of Cunningham.

I started to shoot an arrow at the direction of the sound, and then stopped. If I did that, he'd know where we were. Arrows were much easier to see than bullets.

"I see you've found some objects of your own, Clarke. I do hope it's you, Clarke. If your little dragon friend has come back all on his own, then it will be quite disappointing. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you, you see? You're the one that got away." Cunningham sighed. "And a dragon slayer, too. I've never had a dragon slayer."

I was honing in on the location of his voice more and more.

"Did you bring the gargoyle too?" said Cunningham. "Are you all huddled around one invisibility object, or do you have both of the other ones?"

I could send three arrows right at that voice, but he'd probably just freeze all of them, and then he'd also know where we were, and it wasn't fair that he had so much god damned power. It was nice being invisible and all, but really how useful was the damned arrowhead? What did I want with copies of teddy bears?

Wait.

"Arrowhead," I whispered fiercely to Naelen.

"I thought I heard something..." said Cunningham.

Naelen pressed the arrowhead into my hand.

I didn't even know how this worked, so I was probably going to screw it up completely. I released an arrow, and then another one, and and then a third, all of them as quick as I could, and as I released them, I thought of each of them exploding into ten copies so that thirty-three arrows were all going to be going at Cunningham at top speed. We'd see if he could freeze all of those.

It worked!

A volley of arrows headed in the direction of Cunningham's voice.

Unfortunately, all of them froze.

"Nice try, Clarke," said Cunningham. "I see you've got a manifestation object, or is that just my comb which you've taken from poor Mara?"

The comb. The comb. I hadn't even thought of that. The comb made copies too, right? Did it help me at all?

Cunningham used magic to turn all of the arrows toward me. They started to hurl back at me through the air.

What was it that Eden had done? She'd taken the matter back into herself. I held out my hand, willing the arrows back into my body.

They disintegrated in midair, except for the three original ones.

But then those froze too.

"Two can play this game," said Naelen's voice beside me.

Right. Naelen had magic. He'd frozen the arrows. Okay, good.

"Oh, you're not dead, dragon?" said Cunningham. He'd moved. His voice was coming from a different place. "Too bad. I was really hoping that I'd shot you someplace lethal."

"No such luck," said Naelen. He noticed that Cunningham had moved too. The arrows turned to face his new direction. They all flew through the air.

I took aim and shot more arrows, copying them as I did. This time I went all out. Each one I copied fifty times.

But they all froze again.

Cunningham laughed, turning them and sending them back.

They slowed in the air, but they didn't freeze.

"Too many of them," Naelen grunted.

I held out my hand and took them back into myself.

The remaining arrows froze.

And then there was another gun shot. Three in succession. Bullets burst into the back of the couch, barely missing us.

I lost my grip on Naelen as we tumbled off the couch. He was visible again. He didn't have any of the objects now.

"Ah," said Cunningham. "Dragon, why don't you come here?"

Without the protection of the objects, Naelen was vulnerable. He started to walk toward Cunningham's voice. He'd been compelled.

I tackled Naelen from behind, making him invisible again. I pressed the comb into his skin and then tucked it into his pocket. "You've got the comb," I whispered softly.

Abruptly, copies of Naelen began appearing everywhere. They weren't alive. They couldn't move. But they were just flowing out of him, filling up the place, as if we were in a warehouse of mannequins.

What the hell was Naelen doing?

Cunningham started shooting the copies. Bullets exploded in the skulls of the Naelen copies. Each time that happened, the copy disappeared.

Cunningham laughed, shooting again.

I didn't see what the point of these copies were. As an attack, it was fairly useless, I thought. There was a reason that Naelen was not idea guy.

"Clarke," he whispered in my ear. "This is a distraction. Go get him while he's busy."

Oh. Actually, that was smart.

I stepped away from him.

But he didn't move, so he just looked like he was another of the copies.

Don't shoot him, I thought at Cunningham, running in the direction of the gunshots.

I swerved around the copies of Naelen, which were popping up all over the place. I worried that he'd run out of energy to make them. Hadn't Eden said that the magic converted your own energy to matter? How long could Naelen keep this up?

He was weak from getting shot already.

Of course, now that I could study his copies, I could see that he'd been shot in the leg, not anywhere lethal. Thinking of that seemed to make the old wound in my leg throb again.

Suddenly, I realized that I wasn't sure which copy was Naelen anymore.

I stopped, turning to look at the sea of copies. I should remember. I should protect the real Naelen.

But no. If I was obvious about which one needed protection, then—

Abruptly, I collided with Cunningham.

We both became visible. That was right. Eden had said that if a person wearing an object touched an invisible person, it negated the magic. Same with the copies.

We stepped back.

Was that why the copies of Naelen were disappearing? Or were they disappearing just because they were getting shot in the head?

I trained an arrow on Cunningham.

Cunningham whipped the gun around to point it at me. He smirked.

Okay, speaking of getting shot in the head...

"Go ahead, Clarke," he said. "Take your best shot. But I think if I shoot you, it's going to be a lot worse for you."

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

He was right, of course. I couldn't kill him with a bow and arrows. But he could shoot me in the head, and then I'd be dead. Gone.

My pulse started to race. My fingers tensed, holding the arrow against the bow.

Cunningham laughed. "Do it, Clarke. I dare you."

I let an arrow fly, cringing, waiting for the answering gun shot.

It didn't come.

But my arrow also hadn't hit anything. The cringing may have messed up my aim a bit.

Cunningham cocked his head to one side. "I really don't want you dead, you know. That wouldn't be the least amount of fun. I'd like to have you whole and under my compulsion, where you could put on archery shows for everyone's entertainment."

"Everyone?" I said. "The compelled girls really going to be that entertained? They're the only ones left."

His nostrils flared. "Yes, I had forgotten that you'd killed my companions."

"Didn't even break a sweat doing it, either," I said.

He sighed. "Oh, well. I'll find some more flunkies. Or maybe I'll make some. I've got enough dragon blood to make as many new vampires as I like." He pursed his lips. "What do you think about being a vampire, Clarke?"

"I don't think so," I said.

Cunningham smirked. "You might like it, you know. Don't knock it until you try it."

"Clarke, now!" screamed Naelen.

The gun was ripped from Cunningham's fingers—Naelen must be using magic to get it—

No, the gun was coming back. Cunningham's magic—

I let the arrow loose.

It embedded itself in Cunningham's skull.

He made a confused, strangled noise. He stumbled. And then he fell down, face first into the stone floor.

"Geez," I muttered.

"Get the damned objects," said Naelen, rushing forward.

Oh, right. Of course. I rolled Cunningham over, and I felt around in his pockets until I pulled out a long, cylindrical object, the stylus, and the scarab, which was a small metal beetle-looking thing. When I touched it, I went invisible, so I dropped it, and then picked it up again with the edge of my shirt. I put all the objects in my pockets.

Then I surveyed Cunningham. I took out my machete. "He's not dead. We need to—"

"Naelen!" called a voice.

I looked up to see about fifteen young women running out from the hallway, led by Reign Spencer, who lit up at the sight of her brother.

Naelen saw her and he started to run for her, but he stumbled.

Reign's eyes widened. "What happened?" She hurried over to him, throwing her arms around him.

He hugged her. "It's okay, Reign. It's just a flesh wound. In my thigh. It went through and through. I'll be all right. I only need to shift."

"Okay, okay," she said, nodding, hugging him.

The other girls swarmed me, all talking at once.

"Who are you?" yelled one.

"Can I call my mom?" said another.

"Where's Cunningham?" said another.

"Get us out of here now!" said another.

And then they just started talking over top of each other, drowning each other out, and I couldn't hear any of them.

I raised my hands over my head. "Quiet!" I yelled.

They quieted.

"Okay," I said. "Now, you were here because a very powerful vampire had you compelled to be his blood slaves, but he doesn't have the object that gave him the power to do that anymore, so you're all safe. I will let you all use my phone to call your relatives, and we'll get you home safe, but first, I need to cut that bastard's head off." I turned back to Cunningham's body.

He was gone.

Of course he was fucking gone.

I had turned my back for one freaking second.

I checked my pockets. All the objects were there. He wasn't roaming around invisible or anything. He'd just gotten up and sneaked off while we were busy.

"You okay, Clarke?" said Naelen.

"It's Cunningham," I said. "He got away."

"What? You shot him in the head."

"He's a vampire," I said.

"Shouldn't he at least have stayed unconscious?"

I shrugged.

"We'll find him," said Naelen, taking a step toward me and then wincing when he put weight on his hurt leg.

My leg wasn't completely healed yet either, of course. Still, I was in better shape than he was. I went over and gave him all the objects. "You keep these. I'll find him."

* * *

Of course, I didn't find him. I scoured every square inch of that damned house. He wasn't there. I did see a car driving away in the distance, down the long, dusty desert road.

That was probably him.

There were too many girls to fit in the car that we'd brought from the airport, so Naelen paid an obscene amount of money for a bunch of taxis to come all the way out and pick us up. Before the taxis arrived, he was able to find a jacuzzi tub in the house big enough to fill with water so that he could shift and heal.

That meant he could drive back to the airport.

We followed a caravan of taxis away from that desert house, leaving it as the sun set in the west, staining the sky purple and red and orange.

I let Reign sit up front with Naelen, and the two chattered away the whole ride back.

Reign told us what had happened to her. She had been expecting some party, just fun times with some alcohol and music, but she'd been compelled by Cunningham pretty much right away.

"It was bad," she said. "I was aware of everything that was happening to me, but I couldn't stop it. I would fight and fight, but none of it made any difference. When he ordered me to do something, it seemed like such a good idea, so I had to do it. I couldn't stop."

"We know," said Naelen, looking agonized. "We felt the compulsion too. I'm so sorry, Reign. I'm sorry I couldn't get you out earlier."

I was sorry that the bastard was still roaming the earth, but I didn't say it out loud. I figured I'd let the two of them catch up.

"How could you have? I'm amazed that you were able to at all. He was so powerful. There was no way to stop him."

"We did stop him," said Naelen. "And now you're going home."

"That's all I've wanted for so long," said Reign. "I didn't think anyone would come for me. I thought everyone would think I'd been killed by a slayer or something. When a dragon disappears, that's all anyone ever thinks."

"I did think something like that," said Naelen. "But I'm so glad I was wrong. I couldn't bear it if I lost you."

"I'm okay," she said.

Naelen's hands tightened on the steering wheel. "And he... did he hurt you?"

"Well, they drank a lot of our blood," she said. "Sometimes it was all four of the vampires at once. I'd think I was going to die, but they seemed to know how not to take too much, how to go just up to the brink."

He was quiet, and when he spoke, there was a tremor in his voice. "God, Reign, that's awful. I think about that happening to you for so long, and I didn't get to you."

"You did get to me," she said. "Still... it was tough sometimes."

"I'm sure it was," he said. "Is there... is there anything else you want to tell me?"

"No, I don't want to think about it anymore," she said. "I just want to get home."

"That's where I'm taking you," he said.

* * *

Later, on the jet, Naelen emerged from the bedroom area. "Reign's asleep now," he said.

"That's good," I said. "She's probably exhausted. She's been through a lot."

"Yeah." He poured himself a drink before settling into a chair next to me. He gazed at me for a second and then looked down at his drink.

Oh, I'd nearly forgotten. The last time we'd been on the jet, he'd been intent on bullying me into his bed. Was he going to try to proposition me now? Because if he was...

I glared at my knuckles. Honestly, right now, I'd probably give in. I was tired, and he was very nice to look at, and I liked the way he kissed.

He studied his drink, not meeting my gaze. "Do you think she's leaving things out?"

"Reign?" I said.

"Yes," he said. "Of course I'm talking about Reign. When I asked if he hurt her, do you think she hesitated?"

"I... I don't know. Maybe. I'm sure it was horrible there. Talking about it is probably like reliving it."

He gulped at his drink. "He could compel them to do whatever he wanted. He..." But he trailed off, as if he couldn't finish the sentence.

"Naelen." I reached for him. "Maybe it's best not to think about it."

He got up, draining his drink and going back to pour another one. "I didn't let myself think about it before, because every time I did, I'd think she might be dead, and that was so much worse, and—" He stopped to knock that drink back. He contemplated his empty glass. "But now I have her back, and I wonder..."

I got up and went to him. I put my hand on his back. "You can't know what happened. You have to let Reign tell you what she wants to tell you."

He looked at me, and his eyes were wet. "Fuck." He poured himself another drink.

I didn't know what else to say.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

When we landed in Sea City, Naelen was busy waking up Reign.

I slipped out without saying goodbye. I made my way through the airport, and I caught the night bus back to my apartment. I could have waited around, I guessed. I could have watched him with his damaged sister, huddled there in the background and waited like some kind of pathetic idiot to see if he was ever going to go back to saying whatever it was he was saying about swearing off other women for me.

But it seemed like another lifetime in which he'd said that to me. And... truthfully, what he was saying back there, it hadn't been enough, even if it had been a bit flattering.

And it was like I said before. Pain is pain.

Pain blotted that kind of stuff out. And whatever Reign was going through, she was going to need her brother to be there to help her work through it. She would be his priority.

I understood that.

I had a sister too.

But it was too late to go back to the rehab center and see Gina. Visiting hours were over.

I'd just go home, maybe have a Corona, maybe watch some TV.

All in all, I was glad it was over. The thing about Naelen Spencer was that he was kind of exhausting. I could stand to relax a little.

But when I got back to my place, there was no Corona in the refrigerator.

I debated going out to the corner store and picking up a six pack.

But if I did that, I was going to have to take the night bus again, and then I'd be stuck at the store for another forty-five minutes, because that's how long it would take for another bus to come. Nah, it was better if I just went to Happy Harry's.

When I arrived there, the jukebox was playing TLC's "Waterfalls" and I could see that Juniper was grinding on Howard Carr back by the arcade games. There was a four-foot-square area there that passed as a dance floor. I sat down at the bar.

The bartender looked up at me. "The usual, Clarke?"

I nodded.

He set the Corona in front of me.

I pushed the lime down inside the bottle. Slowly. Slowly. It wouldn't do to get a foam explosion. With the lime in place, I took my first sip. It was cool and refreshing and just a tad tart. The way I liked it.

I sighed, looking around at the bar.

Good to be home.

I stayed for two beers. After the second one, Happy Harry's was winding down. They even pumped Semisonic's "Closing Time" over the speakers, which was a sure sign to get the hell out of dodge. I was feeling pleasantly buzzed, but just a little lonely. I realized that I was used to having Naelen around.

It was odd. I had spent years on my own. Drinking by myself in a bar was a way of life for me. But after a week or so with some company, I got spoiled.

I sat down to wait for the bus on the designated bench, feeling sorry for myself.

Maybe tomorrow, I'd hear something on the scanner about a rogue, and I'd go out and kill some monsters. That sounded satisfying.

I shut my eyes.

I listened to the noise of the cars going by on the road. I waited for the sound of the bus pulling up.

Time passed.

Cars whooshed by. I was starting to feel a little sleepy, but I was feeling peaceful. It was good to be back in my own city, good to be back on my own. Maybe I'd forgotten what it felt like, but with every passing second, it was starting to feel better to me. This was where I belonged. This was who I was.

And then I heard the sound of a vehicle pulling up, but it didn't quite sound like the bus. It sounded smaller and quieter.

I opened my eyes.

There was a shiny black car idling on the curb in front of me. The back door opened and there was Naelen.

"What the hell, Clarke?" he said.

I squinted at him. "What are you doing here?"

"I didn't know where you were. I thought that maybe Cunningham followed us back home and he nabbed you or something. I've been all over, trying to find you."

I straightened. "I didn't mean to worry you. I just decided to go home."

"I went to your apartment."

"Well, I wanted a beer, so..."

"Get in the car," he said, glaring at me.

I got in the car.

He got in after me and pulled the door closed.

"Look, I'm sorry," I said.

He sighed. "I'm glad you're all right."

"Just take me home, I guess. You probably need to get back to your sister."

"She's sleeping," he said. "But, uh, yeah, I guess it would be good if I was there when she woke up." He leaned forward to talk to his driver.

The car took off.

I looked out my window as we drove back to my apartment. Weird that he'd been looking for me, wasn't it? He should know that I could take care of myself. I turned to look at him.

But he was looking out the other window.

So, I looked away.

Eventually, we reached my apartment.

The car pulled to a park.

"Thanks for the ride," I said, opening the door.

"No problem," he said.

I swung my leg out of the car and put it on the ground.

"Clarke?"

"Yeah?" I turned to look at him.

"You, uh, you still have all the objects. We have to figure out what to do with them. Because they shouldn't all be in one place."

"Oh, of course," I said. "Do you want to figure that out now?"

"No," he said. "We can do that maybe tomorrow sometime, I guess. Or even later in the week."

"Okay," I said. "Cool. Call me, I guess?"

"Yep." He smiled. "Be safe. Have a good night."

"You too." I got out of the car and shut the door. I walked around the car and headed up the sidewalk towards my apartment. I was going to get into my pajamas and crawl into bed. I was really tired.

When I got to my apartment, I used my key to let myself in.

"Clarke!"

I turned, holding the door open.

Naelen was coming down the hallway toward me.

I stopped. Waited.

He hurried down the hallway, coming straight for me.

I watched him, my pulse starting to thrum beneath my skin.

He reached me. Stopped. Gazed into my eyes.

I swallowed.

And then he was kissing me. His mouth was hot and hungry on mine, like he was devouring me, like he was searing himself onto me. We tumbled back into my apartment.

He shut the door and pressed me back into it, still kissing me.

I got my mouth free, gasping. "What are you doing?"

He kissed my forehead. My temple. "I told you before that we were going to continue that conversation."

I groaned. "Stop it, Naelen. I am tipsy and exhausted, and I haven't got it in me to say no to you tonight."

He grinned. "Then don't say no." He started to kiss my neck.

Thrills went through me. For several moments, I did nothing. I let his lips move on me, let him coax my body to awaken. It felt good.

He thrust his hands beneath my shirt, his fingers warm on my bare skin.

I huffed. "Naelen, just—please—wait."

He sighed heavily, his fingers retreating. "What is it? I thought you weren't saying no."

I put both of my hands on his chest and pushed.

He stepped backwards, but because he chose to, not because I was really strong enough to force him.

Still, it was good that he moved. I shut my eyes and opened them, trying to clear my head. I was still feeling the remnants of his kisses, his touch. "How would this work?"

"What?" he said. "I already told you. I'll give up the other women. It'll only be you."

"Okay," I said, swallowing.

"Clarke, why are we still talking? We've been putting this off for far too long. I'm developing an obsession with taking you to bed. Can we please start removing your clothes?"

His words went through me like dark liquor, burning a line to my most secret places. I wanted to let him. He aroused me. He was very, very attractive. Right then, he had this desperate look in his blue eyes, and having him glare at me in that greedy way was heady. I struggled for breath.

"Or are you feeling shy?" he whispered. "Should I take off mine?" He moved to pull off his shirt.

"Wait," I said, stopping him.

"For what? Why are we waiting?"

"You said that you're giving up the other women, but that sounds... I don't know. I don't think I want you to feel as if you're giving something up. I want to be enough for you."

"You are. You will be. Making love to you is all I think about."

"So, it's about... sex?"

"Hell, yes, it's about sex. Hot, raw, sweaty sex, which I should be having with you at this very moment. Can we please stop talking?"

"It's only..." I shook my head. "I want you to want me, not just what's between my legs."

He squinted. "How do you mean?"

"You don't understand that?"

He took a step backwards, rubbing the back of his neck and studying his shoes. He looked as though he was thinking very hard. "If you mean that you're worried that there won't be enough foreplay, because the only area of your body I'll concentrate on—"

"No." Although now I was picturing him "concentrating" on that area of my body, and it was making it hard to stand still.

"No?"

I shook my head.

He groaned. "You bewilder me. I'm bewildered."

"I'm sorry," I said. "Listen, this isn't going to happen."

He narrowed his eyes. "Oh, it's going to happen."

I sagged against the door. "No, it won't. Because you'll go your way, and I'll go mine, and we won't see each other anymore, and you'll forget all about me."

He sunk both hands into his hair. "Forget about you? Not likely."

I felt tired deep in my bones. "You should go."

"Maybe we should hunt down Cunningham together," said Naelen.

"What?"

"Yeah," he said. "Being out there on the road with you, fighting monsters... well, that felt right somehow. It felt good to help all those girls."

"You're that desperate to go to bed with me?"

"I'm serious," he said. "Saving people? It's a little addicting, and I have nothing better to do. I'll hire you again."

"I'll say no," I said.

He laughed. "No, you won't."

I shut my eyes and drew in a long breath, feeling defeated. "Okay, maybe I'll say yes."

He grinned.

I put a finger in his face. "But you have to promise to stop this. You and I are not going to have sex."

His lips curved into a smile. "We are most definitely going to have sex. It's a question of when, that's all. You want this, but you're torturing yourself for some reason, denying yourself what you want."

"I'm not—"

"You are." His blue eyes flashed.

Maybe I was torturing myself. But it was only because I was trying to save myself from heartache down the road. If he made me this much of a wreck from a few kisses and caresses, anything more would destroy me.

"You can only hold off for so long," he said in a low, liquid voice.

I choked. "Get out of my apartment. Now."

He opened the door. "I'm leaving. But I'll be in touch." He blew me a kiss. Then he was gone.

I stared after him. Damn him. Damn him to hell.

* * *

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