Prologue
Fifteen years earlier…
Cyntag’s phone rang. He set down his glass of whiskey and grabbed the phone. The screen showed a restricted number. His boss.
“Valeron here,” he answered.
“I have a sensitive job of an urgent nature.”
Guard talk for an assassination to be carried out now. Over the years, Cyn had progressed through the Crescent police agency, going from an Argus to a Vega, the highest classification of officer. It meant taking jobs without explanations, without question…and without conscience.
Cyn grabbed a piece of paper. “Go ahead.”
“I’m handing you over to someone else for the details.” Of which there would be few.
Another man came on the line. He didn’t introduce himself, only gave Cyn ocean coordinates. “There’s a yacht named PHYSIKAL roughly in that area. Male is a Deuce, female a Dragon. Take out everyone on the yacht. Everyone. Understand?”
Irritation bristled, but Cyn kept it from his voice. “As always.”
“I’ve heard much about you, Valeron. Carry out this task and you will be rewarded well.”
The phone went dead. Cyn went into his office, pulled out the maritime map from his collection, and pinpointed the coordinates.
Far enough out that boat traffic would be minimal at this hour.
He headed outside to his back deck, looking at the ocean and orienting his position with his target.
A trail of moonlight glistened on the waves like a thousand glittering diamonds, pointing in the right direction like an arrow.
He turned around to take in the warm and welcoming fireplace through the wall of windows in back. More money didn’t motivate him, and he was as high in the Guard as he cared to be. What drove him was the thrill of the hunt, the kill…to feel something after all this time.
He walked to the seawall, stripped out of his clothing, and dove into the ocean.
Water sluiced over his body as it transformed and magick tingled through him.
His nose and mouth pulled away from his face, and his lengthening teeth tugged against his gums. His torso stretched, growing large and strong.
His tailbone extended, becoming a whip in the water behind him.
Scales emerged from his skin, the final transformation to Dragon.
The oceans were vastly uncharted, unmonitored, and mysterious, the last frontier. Emerald Dragons could fly beneath the water, a luxury envied by the other types. Cyn wasn’t Emerald by nature. He’d come by the ability in a less than honorable way.
There was nothing like the thrill of gliding free through the water, other than what awaited him.
He tuned into his innate sense of direction, shifting south.
Fish darted away in crazy zigzags. He skirted the sound of a boat’s engine, staying deep.
A fish finder might pick up a horse-sized object that the captain would attribute to a school of fish or goliath grouper.
He came up, saw lights in the distance, then swam close enough to ascertain that the yacht was his quarry. A man and woman sat in the cockpit, though even with his night vision Cyn couldn’t see much more than their gender.
His heart beat faster, adrenaline racing through his veins.
He submerged again, moving close enough to see the hull cutting through the water.
His muscles tightened and released, shooting him toward the bow.
He gathered his magick and tore through the hull and out the other side.
The impact hurt, bruising and jarring his body, but he powered through it.
Cyn surfaced, only the tip of his snout and eyes above the water.
The couple shouted to each other, panic in their voices as they scurried to the deck to see what had hit them.
The yacht was tilted, water gushing into the hole he’d created.
They were obviously on the run. No other reason for tearing across the ocean at this time of night or to warrant a Guard-sanctioned hit.
The targets would immediately suspect an attack.
The man ran down into the cabin. The woman grabbed a rifle and started shooting in a wide arc into the water.
She couldn’t see him so her shots flew wild.
The man returned to the deck carrying a large bundle.
Some kind of bomb launcher? But he screamed into the darkness of the ocean, “They don’t know anything about this!
Leave them alone, please!” That last word came out guttural, thick with emotion.
He ran to the dinghy and laid his package in it.
Cyn hated when they begged. No matter, he had his orders.
The yacht was sinking fast. The female discharged all her shots, desperately searching the water.
Cyn remained just below the surface, his view distorted.
She Catalyzed, becoming a Carnelian Dragon.
Red, passionate, and pissed, her Breath weapon was a stream of fiery spikes.
With her night vision and fine-tuned instincts, she zeroed in on him.
Her eyes flared with hatred and fear just before she dove in.
Come and get me, sweetheart.
He’d learned long ago that females, at least Crescent Dragons, were as vicious and capable as any male. He would give her no deference. No mercy. He shot toward her beneath the water, knocking her aside. One of her talons scratched across his scales but not deep enough to penetrate.
She came at him again, her fangs aiming at his throat.
His tail whipped out and lashed her side, but she grabbed for him anyway.
He let her get close enough to think she had a chance before locking his arm around her neck.
Pinned against his side, she kicked and tore at him with her claws.
A spray of leathery spines fanned out from the sides of her head, brushing against his face as she tried to thrash back and forth.
Her tail thwacked him in the back of the head so hard that he momentarily loosened his grip on her.
She pushed off and started to circle around him for another attack.
He grabbed hold of her tail and snapped the bone.
She howled in pain as she swam back to the boat and scrambled onto the only part of the yacht still above water.
He climbed onto the back edge right behind her.
She blew fiery spikes at him. He ducked but had little room to maneuver.
Fire prickled along his scales, and one spike lanced the unprotected flesh near his eye.
He lunged at her, knocking her down and clamping his hand around her snout as she prepared to blow more of that lethal Breath.
She kicked, her claws tearing at his scales.
He jerked her head back and tore into her throat, finishing it.
Hot blood coursed down his chin. She fell limp and slid into the water with a splash.
He followed her down, clamping onto her, Breathing Dragon…
taking her essence. It was how he held the power of many Dragon colors.
Her Carnelian nature surged through him like a thousand volts of electricity.
The water flickered and glowed red as the last of her power transferred to him.
She Catalyzed back to human upon death, and he released her to sink to the murky depths.
The ocean suddenly sucked at him as the yacht sank, pulling him down in its current.
He pushed away, fighting the vacuum to get to the surface.
The far-off sound of an engine caught his ear, the man trying to get away in a dinghy.
When Cyn caught up to it, the man leaped into the water.
Cyn had no idea what kind of magick the Deuce possessed.
He knew Dragon skills by their color, unless they were adept killers who had absorbed their opponents’ powers.
Deuces wielded all kinds of weapons and abilities, with no indication by their appearance.
The man’s hands glowed blue, creating a force field around himself. He sputtered as waves splashed into his face. “We’re innocent,” he said on a gasp.
“I’m sorry, but it’s not my place to judge.” In Dragon form, Cyn’s voice was deep and gravelly. “Or negotiate.”
“Please, don’t kill my daughter. I beg you—”
Cyn dove through the painful field and cut off the man’s words—and his life. He surveyed the area as the man’s body sank. No one thrashed in the water. If anyone else had been on board, they were dead, too.
The dinghy kept churning away into the night.
He grabbed onto the side once he’d caught up and nearly tipped it over as he tried to crawl inside.
He Catalyzed to man and pulled himself in.
The sight of a blanket wrapped around a sleeping child smacked him in the chest. Ah, the man’s daughter.
Her feet were bare, nightgown wrapped around her legs like seaweed.
Blood marred her temple. Cyn knelt down next to her and found a pulse.
Take out everyone on the yacht. Everyone.
The man who’d given him the order knew the child was onboard, knew Cyn was ruthless enough to kill her. He rubbed the back of his neck as he contemplated her. They must have a good reason for wanting her dead. And he was cold-blooded enough to carry out any task they required.
Wasn’t he?