Chapter 19
Chapter
Nineteen
ALRICK
I wish I could say that I have a plan by the time the plane touches down, but I’ve spent hours running scenarios in my head and all of them end with Digby slitting my throat for being a traitor. I shudder and Lord reaches over to squeeze my hand, the motion of the plane meeting the runway jarring both of us slightly in our seats.
“What if we just tell them we’re turning you over and when they show up to get you, we trap them and force them to hear you out?” Arson suggests.
My dad told us that one of the most dangerous things about dragons is that if you let them look into your eyes, they can read your mind and even implant thoughts there. I was skeptical of that one even at the time, but his uncanny response to my spinning thoughts has me wondering for a split second.
“You’ve been scowling the entire time. It’s obvious you’re worrying over how to approach your family,” Montrose says, similar to Arson, as if I spoke my thoughts out loud.
I shift in my seat and glance over at Lord.
“It’s hard to have secrets around supernaturals. We’re too good at smelling shifts in emotion, or in Montrose’s case even feeding on them,” Lord explains. At least I understand how he can know so easily that my thoughts are in turmoil, but suddenly mind reading sounds like the least of my worries.
“ Feeding on them?”
Montrose drapes himself over the back of my seat, his auburn hair tumbling forward, something unsettling about his cheeky grin.
“Don’t worry, my mate keeps me well fed.” He winks.
“You’re freaking the poor guy out, Monty, have some chill,” Lake chides from across the aisle.
The plane finally comes to a stop and we all disembark. My heart thunders and my stomach knots with indecision. I don’t have the first clue what my next step is, but I know I can’t go back to the compound with them. It’s too dangerous. If my brothers are still watching the place and they see me with the dragons, it will only exacerbate things. The wards might keep them out, but they’re not going to let that stop them for long.
“No, turning me into bait isn’t going to work.” I finally respond to Arson’s suggestion from a few minutes ago. “Not if I have any hope of approaching things peacefully.”
“Okay, so why not just make a phone call?” Lake suggests.
If it weren’t for my nerves making me feel violently nauseous, it would be hilarious how surprised and baffled everyone else looks at the suggestion. I know they all have phones, but it’s obvious that simply making a phone call didn’t occur to any of them. I guess old habits die hard when you’ve been around for thousands of years.
Unlike them, I did think of that option and dismissed it somewhere over the Atlantic hours ago.
I shake my head. “I need to get my brother Viggo alone. If I can get him on my side, I might have a chance of talking to Digby and my dad. But with everyone on high alert right now, any call to Viggo will be monitored.”
Standing on the tarmac, clutching the backpack with nothing but my clothes inside, the urge to bury my face in Lord’s chest and beg him to fix this for me is strong. Too strong. I can’t let him fight this battle for me, as much as I want to. The look he gives me tells me he can feel my longing and exhaustion through our bond and that he would happily fix this for me if I asked him to. But I have to do this on my own. If I want a different life, I have to claim it for myself, I have to be the one to sever the ties with my family.
“Okay, forget a phone call,” Montrose says. “You said Viggo is the brother you need?”
I frown. “Yeah.”
He steps closer and I flinch back as he leans in towards me, his nostrils flaring as he sniffs the air around me like a bloodhound trying to pick up a scent. I look at Lord for help, but he just shrugs, seeming as perplexed by the demon as I am.
After sniffing me for a good thirty seconds, Montrose leans back again and smirks. “Be right back.”
And just like that, he’s gone. I blink several times, trying to make sense of the fact that he was standing six inches in front of me seconds ago and now he’s just nowhere . There was no puff of smoke or flap of wings, nothing to suggest he was ever there to begin with.
Dempsey pats my shoulder. “You get used to it.” He pushes his glasses up higher on his nose. “I asked him about it before, and apparently since the demon realm exists on a different plane, it makes travel easy between places. It sounds like slipping between realms can act like a wormhole, letting him create a shortcut between any two places in our world.”
I’m sure the explanation is supposed to clear things up, but it just makes my head spin with even more confusion. I thought I knew a fair amount about the supernatural world, being raised the way I was, but it’s becoming more and more obvious that I don’t know as much as I thought I did. Even everything I thought I knew about dragons was more propaganda than fact.
Just as quickly as he vanished, Montrose reappears right in front of me. A slightly sulfuric smell clings to him now, but otherwise there isn’t a hair out of place.
“Viggo is on his way to Fairmont park.” He snaps his fingers, and a cherry red Mustang appears a few feet away, parked right next to the two black SUVs with heavily tinted windows that I believe belong to the Drakes. Montrose reaches into his pocket and pulls out a set of keys, tossing them to me. I catch them in midair, still trying to work out what exactly just happened.
“What… How?”
He waves his hand dismissively. “I popped over to their campsite, which is in the woods just outside of the compound’s wards, and in my invisible form, I whispered the suggestion to Viggo. He thinks it’s his own idea to go to the park without alerting your father or Digby.”
Valentino growls low in his throat and wraps his arms around his mate from behind, nuzzling the demon’s neck. “You’re so fucking hot when you’re all demony like this.”
Montrose laughs and tilts his head, giving his dragon more access to kiss and bite at his throat.
I tear my eyes away from their display and stare at the keys in my hands for a minute. This is it. Will Viggo listen?
“You don’t have to do this alone,” Lord reminds me again, pulling me close and cupping my jaw, his eyes boring into mine. His irises flicker and turn to my new favorite shade of orange. Warmth and resolve spread through me, and I swallow my rising fear.
“Yes, I do.” I brush a kiss over his lips, reveling in the purr emanating from his chest. “I have to do this for us.”
He makes a noise in his throat that’s half growl, half whimper, and through our bond I can feel his dragon thrashing for control. It doesn’t want to let me go. I run my fingertips soothingly up and down the back of his neck like I’m petting a cat and make soft, calming noises in between kisses.
“Settle, dragon, I promise I’ll be back. I won’t let them hurt me,” I murmur.
“I don’t like this.”
“I know.” One more kiss. Just one more, because if I don’t put a limit on myself then I’ll stand here for eternity kissing this man instead of doing what needs to be done and standing up to my family once and for all.
Then, I step out of his arms.
“I’ll see you soon.” I blow him a last kiss and turn away, jogging towards the car Montrose somehow conjured out of thin air. I don’t let myself take a backward glance as I climb in and drive away. I use the car’s GPS to set a course for Fairmont park, and on my way there I practice muting the bond—not because I don’t want to be able to feel Lord, but because I can’t let myself be distracted by his worrying.
When I arrive at the park, it’s easy to see why Montrose picked it. It’s a sprawling green space with plenty of opportunity for private conversations while still being public enough, with children playing and couples picnicking, that it’s unlikely Viggo will get violent.
My stomach churns. I hate that I even have to consider the possibility my own brother might hurt me. If you’d asked me a month ago, I would have said you were out of your mind. It feels wrong on a bone-deep level to be at odds with my own flesh and blood, to think I might have to fight against them if I can’t convince them to hear my side of things. But as unimaginable as it all is, if the choice is between that and betraying Lord, I already know what my answer will be.
I get out of the car and drag in a few deep breaths, trying to let the fresh air steady me. Unexpectedly, I hear my dad’s voice in my head as I prepare to meet Viggo.
You were born to be a warrior, it’s in your blood. Fear is nothing more than another dragon to be slain.
There is right and wrong in this world, Alrick, as sure as there is day and night. If you don’t pick your side, your side will pick you.
It turns out he was right, just not in the way I used to believe he was. I fell for the wrong things for far too long, but I’m choosing the right ones now. Taking a perverse kind of pleasure in drawing strength from his teachings, I straighten my shoulders, hold my head up high, and set off in search of my brother.
It doesn’t take me long to find Viggo, tucked into a quiet corner of the park at a picnic table surrounded by tall bushes on three sides. His knee bounces under the table and his gaze darts around anxiously. A small amount of guilt creeps in that I didn’t reprimand Montrose for sneaking into my brother’s head to lead him here. It clearly unsettled him, even if he doesn’t understand what happened or why.
From far enough away, you could almost mistake us for one another. We have the same long blond hair and similar builds. It’s only up close that the differences between Viggo and me are obvious; the slightly crooked bend to the bridge of his nose, the green and gold color of his eyes, and the guarded look he’s always had, like he’s constantly holding himself in check. I never thought too much about it—I think I always chalked it up to my dad’s quest to make us all paranoid—but that’s the reason I chose Viggo. Between him and Digby, something tells me he’s the one who will be more open to the truth.
When he spots me approaching, I notice a brief flicker of surprise that he quickly hides behind a stoic mask as he rises to his feet. He doesn’t approach me, just waits by the weathered wood table, his eyes narrowed suspiciously and his fists clenched at his side. The only weapon I can see on him is the dagger in his belt, which I know is tipped with the same poison as our swords.
I shudder at the thought of what it would do to Lord if I so much as pricked my finger on the blade. I don’t let the fear show though, my expression blank as I reach my brother.
“How did you know I was here?” he asks, his eyes darting looks around again. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did the dragons follow you?” His hand twitches towards me but he stops himself.
I take a step closer, my heart a steady drumbeat in my ears but my gut telling me to trust my brother. I close the distance between us and pull him into a tight hug. My throat tightens as the familiar smell of home wafts off of him. It doesn’t seem to matter how many places we move or how long it’s been since we’ve set foot there, the scent of the ocean and the wildflowers in the field always seems to cling to him.
“I’m okay,” I whisper.
He lets out a relieved breath and hugs me back just as hard, squeezing until it feels like my bones might crack under the pressure. When we finally release each other, I swear there’s a glint of moisture on his cheek, but I can’t be sure because I’m too busy trying to wipe away my own stray tears before he can notice them.
“I’m better than I’ve ever been, actually.” I gesture to the table. “Can we sit?”
He slides back into his seat, folding his arms on the table and bouncing his knee underneath it again.
“Brother, I don’t mean to be condescending, but the last time I saw you, a dragon was tearing your chest wide open. And then after weeks of mourning, we hear you’ve somehow been healed and taken captive by dragons.” He shakes his head. “‘Better than you’ve ever been’ isn’t really adding up.”
“Right.” I try not to choke up at the image he’s describing of how they left me. There was nothing they could have done to save me, and if they’d tried, Lord might not have found me. I can’t be upset about it, but still, there’s a small sting in my heart knowing they walked away while I barely clung to life in the middle of nowhere. I clear my throat. “Do you remember when I was about twelve and dad was on one of his ‘survival skills’ kicks, he dropped me off somewhere in the Alps and left me there to find my way to our camp. I nearly froze to death before you found me and you carried me to safety. You helped me get warm and made sure I ate. And then when dad tried to punish you for it, I volunteered to take double the punishment instead.”
Viggo’s eyes darken, filling with the haunted memories I know we’ve both tried hard to rationalize or forget over the years.
“Of course,” he says gruffly. “Why?”
“I just wanted you to remember how much we’ve been through together before I tell you something that’s going to be really hard to hear.”
His knee stops bouncing and he goes completely still, his eyes fixed on me, waiting for me to go on. The bushes rustle a little to our left and I focus on the chatter of squirrels as they scurry up and down the surrounding trees, grounding myself in something so mundane rather than the nerves squeezing around my gut like a vice.
“I was dying. I thought I was dead. All I can really remember is staring up at the stars as the pain faded away and my body started to feel like it was weightless and untethered. I thought about you, about leaving you behind with Digby and dad and how I wished I could take you with me or find some way to stay.”
Viggo makes a strangled noise in his throat and reaches across the table to put his hand on mine.
“What happened?” His gaze drops to my chest, then returns to my face.
In spite of all of my fear about how Viggo will react or how we’ll handle Digby and our dad, a smile tugs at my lips.
“Lord,” I sigh his name.
Viggo frowns, his forehead wrinkling and his eyebrows tugging together. “Lord?” he repeats.
“That’s the name of the dragon who saved my life. He’s my mate.”
His breath catches, and if I thought he was still before, it’s nothing compared to now. He’s like a statue. Not breathing, not blinking, it almost seems like he somehow convinced the wind to not even ruffle his hair for a minute.
“Alrick, what are you talking about?” he hisses, looking over his shoulder and leaning in closer.
“They’re nothing like dad says, Vig. They’re not bad or evil, they’re not bloodthirsty or greedy… Well, okay they’re a little greedy, but it’s kind of charming when you get to know them. They have hearts just like ours, they have families, they can feel love and sorrow and everything just like we can.”
His face is pale, his eyes fixed on the table as I ramble on, hoping like hell I’ll be able to convince him of the truth, that it’s not too late to undo our dad’s teachings.
“I know that,” he says quietly when I finally stop talking to draw in a breath.
“Vig, it’s… Wait, you know ?”
He huffs out a laugh and pushes his hair out of his face again. “Yes, I do. On my twentieth birthday, Digby took me out hunting, he said it was going to be my rite of passage to make my first kill. We found a lone dragon and we ambushed it.”
It’s my turn to hold my breath, bile rising in my throat. I want to cover my ears. I don’t want to hear the rest of this story.
“When I held my blade to its throat, it begged for its life. Digby tried to convince me it was a trick, that the dragon would say anything to regain the upper hand so it could kill us instead, but I just couldn’t get over the look in its eyes, the pleading, the fear…” He buries his face in his hands for a moment and then lets out a breath. “I couldn’t do it. I was prepared for Digby to be right, for the dragon to attack as soon as I lowered my blade, but it didn’t. It ran away instead.”
“Holy shit,” I whisper. “But you’ve killed since then.”
He shakes his head. “Digby beat me within an inch of my life that night and once I healed, dad did the same. I wanted to run, to leave all of their bullshit behind, but I couldn’t.” He looks across the table at me again and I understand exactly what he’s not saying out loud. He couldn’t leave me alone with them. “So, I pretended to kill. I bartered with dragons for their scales or horns so I could bring them back and pretend to have done what I was told. But, no, I’ve never slain any of them and I never will.”
The relief that rushes through me is so dizzying that I let out an involuntary laugh.
“Holy shit, this is good news. I need you to help me. We need to convince them to leave the Drakes alone. We need to find a way to show them that they’re wrong and dragons aren’t what they think they are.”
Viggo’s answering laugh isn’t as jovial or full of relief as mine. It’s bitter and it makes my heart hurt.
“They won’t?—”
Before he can finish his sentence, the bushes rustle again. I turn my head, expecting to see another squirrel, but my blood runs cold as Digby emerges instead.
I’m out of my seat just a second before Viggo. It’s just enough of a delay that our larger, eldest brother manages to get an arm around Viggo’s throat from behind.
“You know, I followed thinking you might need protection from dragons, brother. Instead, I find the two of you talking like traitors. I’m not surprised Viggo’s been brainwashed by the overgrown lizards, but I’d always had higher hopes for you, Alrick.”
“Let him go,” I command.
Digby lets out a cold, cruel chuckle and pulls the dagger out of Viggo’s belt loop.
“That’s not how this is going to go.” He raises the blade to Viggo’s throat. “You wouldn’t want to make a scene and get your big brother hurt, would you?”
I shake my head slowly.
“No. Let him go, Digby. Let’s talk.” I hold my hands up in front of me, speaking slowly and carefully, not wanting to set him off.
“Yes, let’s,” he agrees. “I’m sure dad would love to hear what you have to say.”