Chapter Twenty-Four
In a blur of white-hot speed, Rowan raced past downtown Seattle’s office buildings toward the Kitsap Peninsula and the Agate Pass Bridge that connected Seattle and Bainbridge Island.
Most people took a leisurely ferryboat ride, but he wasn’t like most people, and he was in a hurry.
Stryker had to be okay. His brother was fearless, invincible. No one messed with him.
No one messed with him and lived, Rowan amended.
Stryker lived on Bainbridge, less than a dozen miles from downtown Seattle.
Last summer he had talked Rowan into building a large pier and boat house to overcome their fear of the water.
Rowan wasn’t sure the physiological exercise had worked, but the pier was big enough to moor a sixty-foot yacht.
Flying on a plane or living near the water was one thing.
Traveling on a boat that could sink at any moment was a dragon of a different color.
It all had to do with the theory that if Fire Wizards were submerged in water for too long, their inner core would flame out and they would die.
Rowan’s guess was that this was based on a superstition that arose after a Fire Wizard had drowned.
Swim lessons might be the answer, but Rowan wasn’t about to sign up to be the first guinea pig.
In a matter of minutes, Rowan reached the winding, tree-lined gravel road leading to Stryker’s home. Even the air was still. Nothing moved or breathed. It felt like the night their mother and brother had disappeared.
The door to Stryker’s house was ajar, adding to Rowan’s apprehension.
His brother rented out the basement mother-in-law apartment of his house to college students, and although Stryker was willing to help the kids with cheap rent, he didn’t want them coming into his living quarters unannounced.
Thus, the separate entrance, double-bolt locks, and warding charms. Right now, however, everything was wide open, unlocked, and un-charmed.
If there had been students living downstairs, they were long gone.
Rowan removed his glasses as he entered. There was an odd smell in the house that made his eyes water, but it was the sight that greeted him that turned his blood to ice.
In addition to his five-star-rated bodyguard business, Stryker was a successful freelance game designer, had the latest electronic gadgets on the market, and was a compulsive neat freak. Rowan was pretty sure his brother alphabetized his cereal according to fiber content.
But instead of a room so clean you could eat off the floor, chaos reigned free.
What hadn’t been smashed was destroyed beyond recognition. It looked like a war zone. Papers were scattered as though caught in a tornado or a spin dryer, and Stryker’s black leather furniture, chrome tables and computer equipment were twisted together in a tangled mass of wire, metal, and glass.
Rowan felt as though someone had sucked all the air out of the room. “Stryker,” he yelled, his voice cracking. He forced air into his lungs. “Stryker? Where are you?”
A faint moan and the whisper of a voice invaded the silence. “Rowan.”
The image of the dead body Rowan had seen at Gas Works Park this morning flashed before him as he headed toward the front of the house.
Stryker lay on the floor, his body turned toward the sliding glass doors.
Guilt haunted Rowan’s steps. He’d brought his brother into this case without really knowing what they faced.
Overconfidence had made him reckless with his brother’s life.
He was no better than the victims in the restaurant who’d laughed in the face of death. Everything died.
He dropped to his knees beside his brother and felt for a pulse.
It was weak and thready. Stryker’s eyes were intact, but there were bloody scratch marks around them.
Rowan shuddered and his mind recoiled at the words repeating over and over in his mind like the screams of a banshee foretelling death: Your brother is dying.
Rowan eased Stryker to a sitting position and kept the fear from seeping into his voice. “Can you travel?”
Stryker nodded, but his voice sounded like he was chewing marbles. “Dragons.”
The word elevated Rowan’s fears to a new level. His eyes blurred. “You’re coming with me, little brother.”
Stryker moaned an affirmative. “Need to bring AJ. When it started, I locked her in the wine cellar.” He paused, coughing up blood.
Stryker’s hand trembled as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Morgan left a message. Said to get out of the house. Meet her at the Market. They came just as AJ and I were leaving.”
“Save your strength. I’m getting you out of here.”
Stryker held his arm across his stomach and groaned. He took a few shallow breaths. “AJ…”
“I’ll bring her too.”
“If I die…”
“You’re not going to die. I’m taking you to a healer.”
“Morgan’s a healer,” Stryker managed.
“Yeah, I know.”
“Probably not a coincidence she called me,” Stryker said, coughing up more blood.
Rowan spoke through the layers of black fear that threatened to swallow him whole. “Probably not.”
****
Rowan had sent a message to Renegade to contact Morgan and meet him at his apartment.
He’d then carried both his brother and AJ from Bainbridge to Seattle in what had to have been a personal land speed record.
Lyons’ daughter, AJ, was right where Stryker had said she would be.
She was unconscious, but alive. His brother was alive as well, but barely.
Rowan kicked open the door to his Seattle studio apartment, setting his brother down on his bed and AJ on the sofa. On the short journey, his brother had lapsed into a coma-like sleep and Stryker’s throat rattled with each breath he took.
AJ’s breathing, on the other hand, was strong and even, but she was still unconscious.
He was grateful for the small favor. He didn’t know much about her. Normally, humans were unpredictable when they encountered the paranormal. They either became hysterical or viewed the phenomena like a kid discovering there really was a Santa Claus. Both scenarios were annoying.
Rowan would call Lyons and fill him in, letting him know the location of his daughter and that she was in good hands.
What was taking Renegade and Morgan so long?
Pacing, he took a calming breath. If only his brother hadn’t talked about Dragons.
Before their mother’s and younger brother’s disappearance, she’d sent them out in search of Dragon eggs. Boys of eight and six were ready to believe in the possibility that not only were there Dragons, but that they lived in Northern Ireland.
After a day and a half of fruitless searching, they found a cave and hurried home to tell their mother that they’d discovered what they believed were dragon eggs.
But their house was deserted, and their mother and brother had vanished.
When they were fostered, their stories were dismissed as visions induced by hunger and shadows,
In the years that followed, he and Stryker debated their mother’s intentions.
Had her request been a ruse to get her children away from the house while she finished her chores?
Or had she had another motive in mind? Adults in the magical community believed that dragons were extinct and explained sightings in the same way as the skeptics explained UFOs.
But the last words their mother said before she disappeared became their code for danger. She’d said, “My sons. Dragons are coming.”
Stryker coughed up blood, moaning as he thrashed on the bed as though fighting demons. Rowan pulled his cell from his jacket and dialed Renegade. “Where the hell are you?”
“Outside your door,” came the curt answer.
Rowan sprinted to the door and yanked it open. “Why didn’t you knock?”
“About to. Get your brother and I’ll carry the woman. Your apartment’s been compromised.”
“Where are we going?”
“I’ll tell you on the way.”
****
Across town, elevator doors opened onto the top floor of an apartment building with views of the Seattle skyline, Puget Sound and the Space Needle.
The faint pungent odor of sage hung in the hallway as Renegade directed Rowan to follow him.
The sage confirmed Morgan’s presence and brought back bittersweet memories.
When he and Morgan had lived together secretly, knowing that their relationship was forbidden, she was in the habit of burning sage.
She said it was to clear the room of unfriendly spirits, or the possible negative thoughts left behind by previous guests.
He suspected she also laced the sage with protection spells.
Even setting aside that they’d ignored the Talons’ and the Grey Council’s ruling that Wizards were forbidden to have long-term relationships, he should have known any kind of Happily Ever After scenario was doomed from the beginning.
A Fire Wizard’s purpose was to serve and destroy.
A Water Wizard healed and brought life into the world.
At the end of a long corridor, the door was flung wide and a cloud of sage-filled smoke pushed against him. And, right on cue, the brand over his heart flamed against his skin. He bit off a litany of curse words.
As soon as Stryker was well, he’d figure out a way to have it removed. He knew he was as much to blame as she was for the brand. It only happened with the full consent of both parties, which only made him more frustrated.
Spells on Bealtaine freed the barriers of the subconscious, allowing Wizards to follow their hearts.
He swore under his breath. Bloody hell. Why now and not all those years ago when they were young? The timing was terrible. Fate had a twisted sense of humor.
Maybe Lyons was right when he’d suggested Rowan was “besotted” with Morgan. No, that still wasn’t the right word. “Obsessed”—now, that was a word.
“The room is prepared,” Morgan whispered, interrupting his train of thought. “Please lay your brother on the bed in the room closest to the kitchen and AJ in the second bedroom.”
Thankfully, the brand calmed to a mildly annoying throb as Rowan did what she asked.
He stepped out of the way. Letting her take over Stryker’s care was a relief.
If anyone could bring him back, it was Morgan.
She was able to wake Stryker enough to give him a drink of something purple and bubbly.
She gave AJ a different concoction with pink and grey chunks.
Rowan rubbed his nose and moved to open the window. “What is that stuff? It smells like rotting garbage.”
She brushed hair off Stryker’s forehead, ignoring his comment. “I suspect the poison your brother was exposed to at his home on Bainbridge is the same that was used at The Inferno and on the Wizards who died recently.”
Rowan felt helpless as he stared down on his brother and forced out the words he’d been afraid to say out loud until now. “Will he live?” He could hear the anger in his voice and the bone-chilling fear.
Morgan dipped a wet rag and bathed Stryker’s forehead.
“The antidote has never been tested, and I cannot be sure if there are any side effects.” Her hand trembled as she pulled the blanket over Stryker’s shoulders.
“One more thing. If I’m right, the poison used is fatal.
Your brother shouldn’t be alive.” She held Rowan’s gaze.
“I know this question is harsh. But I must ask. Do you have any idea how he managed to survive?”
Rowan clenched his jaw to fight back old fears involving legends, myths, and dragon possession. Until he had proof, he didn’t want to voice his fear out loud, even to Morgan. When they were children, Stryker had repeatedly returned to the cave where they first thought they had found dragon eggs.
One day, Stryker told him they’d hatched. At the time, Rowan didn’t want to believe his brother and dismissed his claim. If it were true, however, and Stryker had witnessed the birth of dragons, they would have imprinted on him. Such an honor had a reward as well as a cost.
Rowan cleared his throat. “A theory, but I’d rather not say until I’m sure. How did you know my brother was in danger?”
She whispered a few words that sounded like the form of an ancient Celtic prayer and sprinkled dried herbs over Stryker’s eyes.
When she’d finished, she laced her fingers together, her gaze locked on Stryker.
“I’m not your garden-variety female Wizard and healer, Rowan.
As you know, I’m also a seer. Or did you forget? ”
Her voice sounded strained, and he knew it stemmed from her frustration and worry over Stryker’s safety.
“No, I didn’t forget.” He’d forgotten a lot of things, but not that. “Why didn’t you contact me? Warn me?” His voice was now the one that was strained, and he was as mad as hell.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. Stryker played by the rules, most of them anyway, and kept under the radar. Rowan was the one who was always pissing someone off. He balled his hands into tight fists to keep from tearing the place apart or setting something on fire.
She turned toward him, and her expression held deep concern and something he refused to identify.
“I tried to warn you, but your mind was closed to me. All I could discern was that your brother was in danger, but not when, why, how or from whom. That is why I called him and told him to meet me at The Inferno.”
She moved to light a white candle on the table beside Stryker.
“Morgan?”
“Yes. It is very serious. Stryker is so cold. I’m worried. He’s not responding the way I’d hoped.”
Rowan’s knees buckled. He kept his balance only with iron will power. He had pinned his hopes on Morgan finding a cure. “What can I do?”
“Go back to your brother’s home and see what you can find out. Maybe there’s an empty glass container left behind that will confirm the poison.”
“Stryker can’t die,” Rowan said, his voice deepening. “He’s a Wizard.”
Morgan was beside him, her gentle hand on his arm, the expression in her eyes begging him to remain calm. Her touch almost undid his resolve to stay strong and detached. He wanted to take her in his arms, let her comfort him, listen to the lies that his brother would live, but he held back.
He always held back.