Legion

“Know this, dragons,” he snapped, his voice shaking with rage. “You might have won the day, but you have not broken us. The Order will recover, and when we do, we will not stop until Talon is destroyed This war isn’t over. Far from it. It has barely begun.”

I smirked, ready to say something suitably defiant and insolent, but Ember lifted her gaze from where it had been glued to the soldier’s body and glanced up at the humans.

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” she said in a soft, controlled voice. “Some of us want nothing to do with Talon, or the war. Some of us are just trying to survive.” She looked at St. Anthony, holding his gaze. “Garret realized that. Which is why he went to you in the first place, why he risked everything to expose the Patriarch. Talon was using the Order to kill dragons that didn’t fall in with the organization. St. George thinks we’re all the same, but that’s not true.” Her voice grew a little desperate on that last word, and she dropped her gaze, staring at the soldier’s body once more.

“We don’t want this war,” she murmured. “There’s been too much killing and death already. There has to be a way for it to end.”

“There is.” The human’s tone was flat. “It will end with the extinction of every dragon on the planet. Nothing less. Even if what you say is true, St. George will not yield. The Order will never abandon their mission to purge the threat your kind represents. If anything, this has only proved how treacherous you dragons really are. Perhaps this was Talon’s plan all along—to strike a critical blow against the Order by removing the Patriarch.”

“Are you really that stupid?” I asked, and all three humans glanced at me sharply. “Is the Order so blind and rigid that it won’t even consider another way of thinking? Open your damn eyes, St. George. You have two dragons in front of you that hate Talon just as much as the Order. And if you believe this was some elaborate plan by the organization to off the Patriarch, you’re not thinking that through. Why would Talon want to kill the Patriarch when they were pulling all the strings and had the Order right where they wanted? We—” I gestured to myself, Ember and the motionless soldier “—had to expose this alliance, or Talon would have just kept using you to wipe us off the map. Maybe you should think hard about what that means.”

St. Anthony, I noted, was still watching Ember, who was kneeling by the soldier with his hand clasped tightly in her own. His eyes were conflicted, a tiny furrow creasing his brow. But then the man spoke again, his voice as hard and cold as ever.

“Take Sebastian and leave this place,” he said, stepping back. “The Order will not pursue, at least not today. But there will be a reckoning, dragon. And when that happens, I suggest you stay far away, or be consumed with the rest of your kind. Martin, St. Anthony,” he said, and walked toward the body of the Patriarch lying in the bloody salt a few yards away. The one called Martin followed immediately, but Tristan paused a moment, still staring at Ember before he, too, turned on a heel and marched off with his shoulders straight. Neither of them looked back.

I knelt, putting a hand on Ember’s arm and leaning close. “Wes is on his way,” I told her. “We’ll be out of here soon.”

She nodded without looking up. “Do you...do you think he’ll make it?” she whispered.

I didn’t want to upset her, but I didn’t want to lie, either. To give her false hope. “I don’t know, Firebrand,” I muttered. “He’s lost a lot of blood. I don’t know if that bullet hit anything vital, but...he’s not in a good place right now. I think you have to prepare yourself for the worst.” She closed her eyes, a tear slipping down her cheek as she bowed her head. My dragon stirred, and a bitter lump caught in my throat. I remembered her words as the soldier lay dying in her arms, the whispered confession as the human slipped into unconsciousness. And I knew she would never say those words to me.

Unless he was gone.

Sickened with myself and the dark, ugly thoughts of my inner dragon, I rose and walked away to scan the barren horizon.

So. The Patriarch was dead. We’d accomplished what we’d set out to do—not kill the man exactly, but expose him to the rest of the Order and break up the alliance between him and Talon. The organization could no longer pull the Order’s strings, because their prize puppet was out of the picture. This would throw St. George into chaos, and they would want retribution for the death of their leader, but at least they would be distracted for a while. And while they were figuring out what to do, I could move my network even deeper underground so we’d be well hidden for the inevitable retaliation.

But that still left Talon to deal with.

A chill went through me as I watched the sun creep slowly over the flats, staining the horizon red. Something was coming; I could feel it. Talon was out there, and killing the Patriarch would cause them to react, as well. Maybe that had been their plan all along. I felt like a pawn in a chess match—one who had just taken out the bishop, but then looked up and there was the queen, smiling at me from across the board.

I shook myself, frowning. I was getting paranoid. Even if Talon had expected this, our plans wouldn’t have changed. We would’ve had to expose the Patriarch regardless, and everything would still have led to this, with the leader of the Order dead, and the soldier who’d exposed him hovering between life and death in the bloodstained salt.

I looked back at Ember and the human, huddled together on the bleak, unforgiving flats. The soldier’s face was as white as the salt beneath him, half his blood, and probably a little of mine, already drying in the sun. Try not to die, St. George, I thought, startling myself. Things are going to get even crazier from here, and you’re not bad to have around when everything implodes. If Talon decides to come after us full scale, we’ll need all the help we can get. Plus, if you die now, Ember will never be able to forget you.

And I don’t want to compete with a damned ghost for the rest of my life.

GARRET

I was flying.

The clouds stretched out below me, a rolling sea of white and gray that went on forever. Above me, the sky was a perfect, endless blue that made me dizzy to look at. I could feel the wind in my face, smelling of rain and mist, and the sun warming my back. How long had I been flying? I couldn’t remember, but it felt like an eternity and a heartbeat at the same time. Why was I up here? I was... I was looking for something, I think. Or chasing something.

Or something was chasing me.

A low rumble echoed behind me. I looked back to see a wall of black clouds boiling up from the white, spreading toward me with frightening speed. Chilled, I tried to fly faster, but the sky rapidly darkened and lightning flickered around me as the storm drew closer, filling the air with the smell of ozone.

Garret.

A voice shivered across the cloudscape, soft and female, making me falter. I knew that voice. Where was she? Why couldn’t I see her?

Garret, I’m here. Just hold on.

Where are you? I tried to call, but my voice had frozen inside me. At my back, the boiling wall of darkness loomed closer, streaks of lightning flashing in its depths.

How’s he doing? A different voice joined the first. Low and strangely familiar, it made something inside me bristle. I couldn’t remember the face, or what it had done, but a low growl rumbled through my chest before it died in my throat.

He’s fighting. The female voice sounded choked, making my stomach clench, too. His temperature is far higher than normal, and he’s been delirious the past few nights. Wes thinks his body is trying to adapt to the transfusion, and that it’s causing some weird side effects. But we really don’t know anything. She sniffed, and her voice went even softer. All we can do is wait, and hope that he comes out of it.

The other sighed. At least he’s still alive, Firebrand. I did the only thing I could think of.

I know.

Their voices faded, swallowed by the darkness and rising wind, and a stab of desperation shot through me. Wait, I wanted to shout, straining to hear her voice, to follow it until I found the person on the other side. Don’t go. Don’t leave me here.

No answer except the howling of the wind and the rumble of the storm at my back. Before me, the sky continued on, forever. Rolling gray clouds with no end in sight. Behind me, the dark wall boiled steadily closer, a wave swallowing everything in its path, filling the air with the tingle of electricity.

I suddenly realized what I had to do.

I twisted around to face the oncoming storm. For a split second, hanging upside down in midair, I caught a glimpse of my shadow in the clouds below, lean and sharp, with an elongated neck and wide, sweeping wings. Then I was rushing toward the wall of darkness. The clouds filled my vision as I shot into the flickering blackness, and everything around me disappeared.

* * *

I stumbled forward, and flames surrounded me, roaring in my ears. The entire warehouse was engulfed, tongues of flame curling around the iron beams and snapping hungrily at the aisles of crates and boxes. Everywhere I looked, there was fire, screaming and crackling, tinting everything in a hellish glow, but I wasn’t afraid. A nearby tower of pallets collapsed with a deafening roar, and a cloud of embers billowed into the air, swirling around me, but there was no discomfort or pain. I could feel the heat, smell the smoke and ashes settling in my lungs, but it didn’t bother me at all.

Firebrand?

That same voice, low and husky, drifted from one of the aisles. Ember, it said again, its tone laced with worry. You’ve been sitting here for eight hours. Go to sleep. Let me or Wes take watch—he’s not going anywhere.

No, said the voice that made my heart leap in my chest. I want to be here. When he wakes up, I should be here. He was almost lucid a little while ago. I think... I think he was calling for me.

I started toward the voice, ducking a burning beam, feeling the heat against my back and neck as I hurried forward. The voices continued, but they were fainter now, swallowed by the roar of the inferno. Overhead, a skylight exploded into shards of razor glass and rained down, pinging off the cement. Impatient, I shielded my face with a hand and jogged forward.

The Patriarch emerged from the darkness of the aisle, dressed in white and red, a sword hanging loosely at his side. Flames engulfed him, burning his uniform, clawing at his beard and leaping from his hair. His face was blackened, the skin cracked and oozing, but his blue eyes glowed in the haze and smoke, and he pointed a fire-wreathed hand in my direction.

“Traitor,” he whispered. “Dragonlover. Like your parents before you. You are damned, Sebastian. Your soul has been tainted beyond all redemption, and you must be put down like the demon you are.”

He took a step toward me. I raised my gun and fired point-blank at his center, and the Patriarch exploded into a cloud of swirling ashes and scattered into the smoke. But his voice continued to echo through the warehouse.

You cannot escape your destiny. Evil is in your blood, Sebastian. You will fall, and you will burn in the flames of your own making, as your parents did before you.

Lowering my arm, I strode through the ash cloud into the blackness beyond.

* * *

Sunlight blinded me. Wincing, I raised my arm, trying to see past the sudden glare. The scent of salt and sand filled my nostrils, and I heard the sound of waves, crying gulls and distant laughter. Blinking rapidly, I lowered my arm to find myself on the edge of a beach, a strip of white sand stretching out to either side and the brilliant, sparkling ocean before me.

Recognition sparked. This place felt familiar, though I couldn’t remember why. Hadn’t I been here before? If I had, why did the sight of the ocean fill me with both excitement and dread?

“Garret,” Tristan said at my back. His voice was impatient, and I turned to face the other soldier. He wore shorts, a tank top and a slight frown as he gazed down at me. “You okay?” my partner asked. “You went all glassy-eyed for few seconds. Did you hear what I just said?”

“No,” I muttered as memory came back in a rush, reminding me why we were here. Find a dragon, kill a dragon. Like we had done all those times before. So, why did this seem so different? I felt like I was missing something important. “Sorry,” I told Tristan, rubbing my eyes. “What was that again?”

He sighed. “I was saying the dragon is hiding right over there, and that maybe you should go talk to it before it disappears.”

He pointed. I turned, squinting against the light and the glimmer coming off the ocean. Farther down the sand, a group of teenagers clustered by the water’s edge, laughing and occasionally splashing each other. Between the sunlight and the blinding glare, I couldn’t see their features, just moving silhouettes against the water, sand and sky.

“I don’t see a dragon,” I murmured, walking forward a few steps.

“Really?” Tristan followed, his footsteps shushing quietly through the sand. “It’s standing right there, plain as day. Maybe if you weren’t so blinded by love, you’d see it for what it really is. And then, I wouldn’t have to kill you.”

I turned. Tristan stood behind me, a gun held level with my chest. His eyes were hard as they met mine and he pulled the trigger.

There was no sound. The flash of the gun filled my vision, and I felt myself falling.

* * *

I opened my eyes.

The sky overhead was gray and dim. There were no clouds, no glimmers of blue or sunlight through the haze. Just a flat gray sky that seemed much closer than it should be. I blinked a few times, and it resolved itself into a concrete ceiling with cracks running across the surface. I lay on my back in a small, empty room, a sheet pulled up to my chest and my hands draped over my stomach. My body felt numb and heavy, and my head felt like it was full of cotton, which made it very hard to think. Where was I? How did I get here? The last thing I remembered...

My mind stirred sluggishly, trying to sift through what was real and what was nightmare. What had happened to me? Memories rose up, familiar faces and voices, but it was difficult to separate reality from hallucination. Had I been injured? Or had I been chasing something?

Slowly, I turned my head, trying to take in my surroundings, and my pulse stuttered.

A girl slumped next to my bed, seated in a metal chair pulled close to the mattress. Her arms were folded against the sheets with her head cradled atop them, bright red hair mussed and sticking out at odd angles. Her eyes were closed, and her slim bare shoulders rose and fell with the rhythm of her breathing.

Ember. I drew in a breath, feeling the strangeness of the dreamworld dissolve as reality took its place. Suddenly, all those things—where I was, what had happened to me, how much time had passed—didn’t seem important anymore. Just that she was here.

I stretched out my hand, not trusting my voice, and touched the back of her arm.

She jerked away and looked up, green eyes wide and startled. For half a heartbeat, she stared at me in confusion as her mind caught up to the present. I saw my reflection in her gaze and wanted to say something, but my voice hadn’t returned quite yet.

“Garret,” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. And then she threw herself forward, wrapping her arms around my neck in an almost painful embrace. I slid my arms around her, feeling her heartbeat against mine, her warm cheek pressed against my throat and jaw. I closed my eyes and held her, trembling, in my arms.

“Hey you,” I whispered. My voice came out raspy and weak, and I swallowed some of the scratchy dryness in my throat. I became aware that I was very hot, my skin burning with fever. I could practically feel the heat radiating off me, and was thankful that only a thin sheet covered my body. “What happened?” I husked out as Ember pulled back, regarding me with shining green eyes. “Where are we?”

She gave me a solemn look. “We’re in one of Riley’s safe houses, an old bomb shelter he renovated from the Cold War era. We are literally underground right now. Hang on.” She turned, sliding off the mattress, and reached toward a small end table beside the bed. A bowl and a wet cloth sat on one corner, a glass and a pitcher on the other. She poured the last of the pitcher’s contents into the cup and turned back, cocking her head. “Can you sit up?”

Carefully, I struggled to a sitting position, feeling weak and unstable as I leaned forward, and Ember adjusted the pillows at my back. When we were done, she handed me the cup, and I forced myself to drink slowly, though the burning in my throat and deep in my chest made me want to down it in two gulps.

Putting the empty glass on the bedside table, I looked at Ember again. She ran her fingers over my forehead, brushing back my hair. Her fingers were cool and soft and left a soothing trail over my heated skin. “What do you remember?”

“I... I don’t know.” Everything was still fuzzy, and now the heat in my veins had become even more pronounced. I pressed a palm to my face, trying to clear my thoughts and to ease the pressure behind my eyes. “I was...fighting the Patriarch, I think,” I said. “He challenged me to a duel, and I agreed to fight him. That’s all I can remember.”

Ember nodded. “You won,” she said quietly. “You beat the Patriarch, but when the fight was over, he shot you. In the back.” A feral gleam entered her eyes, and I wondered if the Patriarch was still alive. If he had survived the vengeance of an enraged red dragon. “You nearly died,” Ember went on, the murderous look fading to one of anguish. “You were bleeding out, and the only way to save your life was to perform a blood transfusion right there. There was no time to take you to a hospital. And no one else had the right blood type. So... Riley became the donor.” She paused. “Riley saved your life, Garret.”

For a few seconds, I didn’t understand the significance, why she looked so distraught. Was she afraid that I would resent the fact that a former enemy had saved my life? Given our past, I was shocked that the rogue dragon had offered his own blood to save a soldier of St. George. Did Riley himself wish that he’d let me die? I didn’t think he was that vindictive, but I was a rival. No longer an enemy, but a challenger in the worst way—competition for the girl beside me. If I was out of the picture, Riley would have Ember all to himself.

Then it hit me. The heat in my veins, the feeling of molten fire crawling beneath my skin. I let out a long breath.

“I have...dragon blood in me.”

Ember winced. “It’s been causing some complications,” she said in a near whisper. “Some of it has been good—your wounds have been healing at a much faster rate than normal. But you’ve been delirious for the past week and a half. Until today, we didn’t know if you would pull out of it.” At my incredulous look, she dropped her gaze. “Wes thinks it’s your body trying to compensate for the infusion of new blood, and that it should eventually adjust, but he’s not certain. This has never been done before. We don’t know...what the effects will be. Long term or otherwise.”

Dazed, I sank back against the pillow. Riley had saved my life, and he’d done it by injecting me with dragon blood. Was that why my heart was pumping like I’d run a marathon, even lying here on my back? My mind, already wandering and confused, began spinning in strange directions. What would this infusion do to me, inside and out? Was I in danger of dying, as the dragon blood cooked my organs from the inside? Or could it do even more outlandish things? Dragons were magical creatures; a tiny bit of ancient, supernatural power flowed through their veins. Even the Order of St. George acknowledged this. What would that do to the human body? Would I come out of this completely normal?

For a moment, I had bizarre, delirious thoughts of waking up covered in scales, or getting out of bed to find a tail coiling behind me, before I shoved them aside. That wasn’t possible, I told myself, struggling to hold on to logic as it twisted and squirmed away from me. Blood couldn’t do that to a person; I was in no danger of morphing into some sort of strange half dragon. The most it could do was kill me, if my body rejected the new blood and shut down organs, one by one.

Ember, I realized, was watching me carefully, waiting for my reaction. I reached for the hand lying on the mattress, and she curled her fingers around mine and held on tight, like she was afraid to let go. “It’s okay,” I told her, smiling as I met her gaze. “I’ll deal with the complications as they come, but right now, I’ll settle for still being here.”

She let out a breath that was half laugh, half growl, and leaned forward, pressing her forehead to my cheek. “Dammit, Garret,” she breathed in my ear. “I thought I’d lost you. Don’t do that again.”

“I’ll try not to,” I whispered back. Her skin was cool against mine, and I slid my fingers up her arms. “But will you still feel the same if I sprout wings and a tail?”

I felt her silent laughter. “Actually, that would be pretty awesome,” she admitted. “Though you’d never be able to wear shorts in a public place again, so there’d be some kinks to work out.”

I wanted to drag her closer, to pull her against me and listen to our hearts beat together. But my eyelids were suddenly heavy, and sleep was clawing at me, even as I struggled to stay awake. “What happened with the Order?” I asked, determined to get some sort of answer before I succumbed to exhaustion.

“We don’t know,” Ember said, drawing back. “After the duel, they took the Patriarch’s body and left. We came straight here from Salt Lake City and haven’t been up top since.”

I nodded. That was smart. The Patriarch was dead. The revered leader of the Order of St. George had been slain by the enemy. Even if there was no immediate reprisal, staying off the Order’s radar right now was a good idea. Still, the lack of information was worrisome. What was happening, in both St. George and Talon? We had thrown a huge wrench into the works of both organizations, and something had to come of it. Sooner or later, they were going to respond. We had to be ready when they did.

But not right now. At least, not for me. Staying conscious was becoming increasingly difficult, even though I had about a dozen more questions I wanted to ask. And something else hovered at the back of my mind, a feeling that I was forgetting something important. Something about the Order...and me. Ember must have noticed, for her cool fingers brushed my forehead again, and her lips briefly touched my temple.

“Get some sleep, soldier boy,” she whispered, the relief in her voice washing over me like a wave. “You’re safe here. I’ll see you again when you wake up.”

Lulled by that promise, I obeyed.

EMBER

I watched Garret fall asleep, relaxing into the pillows, his breaths even and slow. It was a sound, peaceful sleep this time—no jerking, mumbling or fluttering eyelids. No thrashing around in nightmare. Hopefully, the fever had broken and he was on his way to recovery, though his skin remained disturbingly hot. Hotter than any human’s should have been.

But he was finally awake, and lucid, and that itself was a massive relief. Watching while he’d jerked and muttered nonsense in his sleep had been horrible. One night he’d thrashed about so violently we’d considered tying him down. I knew it was the dragon blood working its way through his system, causing fever and sickness as his body tried to adapt to or reject the infusion. I knew that without it Garret would most certainly be dead, and that Riley had saved his life with his quick thinking. But, watching him moan and thrash trying to ward away phantom enemies, hearing what was almost a snarl erupt from his throat one night, I couldn’t help but wonder what he would be like when he finally came out of it. If he came out of it at all.