27. Rafe #2
Dimitris burned bright and vicious beside me, laughing as if near-death had improved his mood.
I tore through stone and metal, using fire where force failed and force where fire wasted time.
Luke threw spell after spell, blue-white shields snapping into place and shattering under gold flame and dragon heat.
One spell struck my side and opened pain beneath my scales.
Another slammed into Dimitris’s chest and sent him crashing through the remains of a marble column.
He rose from the dust younger again somehow, broader through the shoulders, brighter at the edges, and delighted beyond reason.
“I missed this,” he said.
I growled.
“I assume that means you disapprove.”
I did.
The next spell came fast. Dimitris looked at me and pointed sharply downward.
I understood him half a second before phoenix fire speared over my head, hot enough to turn the air white. I dropped low, claws biting into the stone, and drove my own fire up from beneath Luke’s shield at the exact same time.
The shield split.
Luke’s eyes widened.
For the first time, he looked afraid.
Good.
Dimitris moved left. I moved right. Luke snapped another glamour around himself, vanishing into empty air.
Max barked from behind the fallen case.
Quinn shouted, “Three steps left!”
I didn’t question her.
I struck three steps left.
My claws caught fabric and flesh.
Luke reappeared with a curse, dragged half a pace off balance. Dimitris seized his wrist before he could twist free. Fire crawled over Luke’s sleeve. The sorcerer screamed and dropped the small detonator charm he had been palming.
It hit the floor.
Quinn scrambled from cover, grabbed the bronze spear Dimitris had dropped earlier, and hooked the charm away before anyone could step on it.
“Mine now,” she said a little breathlessly.
Luke tried one last spell. I caught him by the throat in one clawed hand and lifted him off the ground. The spell died in his mouth.
The room went quiet except for fire, alarms finally waking somewhere distant, and Dimitris breathing hard beside me.
I looked at Luke Gildstein, at the man who had tried to turn heritage and greed and violence into another acquisition chain. His face had gone pale. His expensive composure had cracked.
I couldn’t speak in this form, but I didn’t need to.
I tightened my grip just enough for understanding, then threw him into the nearest wall.
He hit it and slid down, unconscious.
Dimitris turned toward Luke. The fire around him didn’t die back. It tightened. Sharpened. The bright gold heat drew closer to his skin until he looked less like a man burning and more like fire had decided to wear him.
Luke stirred.
Dimitris crossed the room without hurry.
“Dimitris,” Quinn said.
He didn’t look back. Luke’s eyes opened.
For one bare second, the sorcerer’s composure returned. A thin, ugly smile. One last scrap of confidence from a man who still believed there was a rule somewhere he could exploit.
Dimitris crouched in front of him.
“I would love to make a speech,” he said softly. “Truly. I have several prepared. But you came into my home, threatened my collection, and put explosives near my guests.”
Luke’s hand twitched.
Dimitris caught his wrist and pinned it to the floor.
The sorcerer made one strangled sound.
“No,” Dimitris said. “You are quite done.”
Gold fire poured down his arm.
Luke screamed once, then there was only flame.
I moved in front of Quinn before I had fully decided to do it, blocking as much of her view as I could. She didn’t step back, but her hand found Max’s collar. Max leaned into her leg.
The fire burned hot and brief.
When it vanished, nothing of Luke Gildstein remained but a black mark on the stone and a curl of smoke lifting toward the broken ceiling.
Dimitris stood.
For the first time since we had met him, there was no smile on his face.
“Now,” he said, brushing ash from his fingers, “the evening may continue.”
The fire died back slowly, revealing a body younger than the one he had been fighting with. He flexed one arm.
I huffed smoke through my teeth.
“Do not,” Quinn told him.
Dimitris looked offended. “I hadn’t yet said anything.”
“You were about to.”
“I have been reborn in battle. A small amount of commentary is traditional.”
I growled again.
He glanced at me. “Rafe, your fire is magnificent.”
Quinn pointed the spear at him. “Terrible survival instincts.”
“And yet I survive.” He turned toward the cracked glass of a display case and admired himself openly. “Repeatedly.”
I shifted back so I could answer him.
The second change in minutes sent pain through every injury at once, sharp along my side and shoulder where stone had struck. I ignored most of it and turned first for Quinn.
She was already coming toward me with Max tight at her side, dusty and cut and shaking slightly, but upright. Alive. Her chin lifted when she saw my face. She knew exactly what fear still had its teeth in me.
“I’m okay,” she said.
I believed her only because Max didn’t contradict her.
Dimitris’s gaze moved to Quinn, then softened in a way I didn’t trust at all. “And you,” he said. “Terrifying woman.”
“Thank you?”
His smile widened. “What was that little family object you wanted again?”
I stared at him. Quinn stared at him. Max sneezed.
Dimitris looked around at the ruined gallery, the dead sorcerer, the shattered display cases, the smoking remains of his own arrogance, and somehow seemed pleased.
“The incense burner,” I said.
“Ah, yes.” He brushed ash from his bare shoulder. “Take it.”
For one beat, the only sound was the distant alarm.
Then Quinn laughed. It was shaky and exhausted and alive, and it went through me more cleanly than victory.
Dimitris pointed at Max. “And the dog may have the venison treats in my freezer. All of them.”
Max’s tail wagged.
There were many things still to do.
But Quinn was alive. Max was alive.
The fifth relic was ours.
And when Quinn reached for my hand, I took it.