PRAISE FOR INTERNATIONALLY BESTSELLING AUTHOR

JULIE KAGAWA

‘Katniss Everdeen better watch out.’

—Huffington Post on The Immortal Rules

‘Julie Kagawa is one killer storyteller.’

—MTV

‘a book that will keep its readers glued to the pages until the very end’

—New York Journal of Books

‘Kagawa pulls her readers into a unique world of make-believe with her fantastic storytelling and ultimately leaves them wanting more by the end of each book.’

—Times Record News

‘Kagawa has done the seemingly impossible and written a vampire book…that feels fresh in an otherwise crowded genre.’

—Kirkus Reviews on The Immortal Rules

‘An intense and thought-provoking series’

—School Library Journal on The Eternity Cure

‘Surpasses the greater majority of dark fantasies’

—teenreads.com

JULIE KAGAWA is the internationally bestselling author of the Iron Fey, Blood of Eden and The Talon Saga series. Born in Sacramento, she has been a bookseller and an animal trainer and enjoys reading, painting, playing in her garden and training in martial arts. She lives near Louisville, Kentucky, with her husband and a plethora of pets. Visit her at www.juliekagawa.com.

For official Blood of Eden news and extras, visit www.BloodofEden.com.

Available from Julie Kagawa and

The Talon Saga

TALON

ROGUE

Coming soon

SOLDIER

Blood of Eden series (in reading order)

THE IMMORTAL RULES

THE ETERNITY CURE

THE FOREVER SONG

The Iron Fey series (in reading order)

THE IRON KING

WINTER’S PASSAGE (eBook) THE IRON DAUGHTER THE IRON QUEEN SUMMER’S CROSSING (eBook) THE IRON KNIGHT IRON’S PROPHECY (eBook) THE LOST PRINCE THE IRON TRAITOR

The Talon Saga Book 2

Julie Kagawa

To Laurie and Tashya

Contents

Cover

Praise

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Dedication

Part I

Garret

Dante

Ember

Cobalt

Garret

Ember

Riley

Ember

Garret

Part II

Cobalt

Garret

Dante

Ember

Riley

Ember

Garret

Cobalt

Ember

Dante

Riley

Ember

Riley

Garret

Riley

Ember

Garret

Riley

Dante

Part III

Ember

Riley

Garret

Riley

Ember

Riley

Cobalt

Ember

Garret

Ember

Garret

Riley

Ember

Riley

Ember

Riley

Ember

Riley

Ember

Garret

Riley

Cobalt

Ember

Dante

Ember

Epilogue

Dante

Acknowledgments

Questions for Discussion

Extract

Copyright

PART I

Countdown

Garret

I stood before a silent, watchful table, six pairs of eyes on me, keen gazes ranging from suspicious to appraising as we waited for the charges to be declared. Men in uniforms of black and gray, with the emblem of the Order—a red cross on a white shield—displayed proudly on their jackets. Their harsh, lined faces reflected a lifetime of war and struggle. Some I knew only by reputation. Others I had trained under, fought for, followed commands from without a second thought. Lieutenant Gabriel Martin sat at one end of the table, his black eyes and blank expression giving nothing away. I’d known him nearly my whole life; he had molded me into what I was today. The Perfect Soldier, as my squad mates had taken to calling me. A nickname I’d picked up during the relatively short time I’d been fighting. Prodigy was another word that had been tossed around over the years, and lucky son of a bitch, if they were feeling less generous. I owed most of my success to Lieutenant Martin, for recognizing something in a quiet, somber orphan and pushing him to try harder, to do more. To rise above everyone else. So I had. I’d killed more enemies of the Order than anyone else my age, and the number would’ve been much higher had the unexpected not occurred this summer. Regardless of my situation, I had been one of the best, and I had Martin to thank for that.

But the man sitting across the table was a stranger, an impassive judge. He, along with the rest of the men seated there in a row, would decide my fate tonight.

The room in which I stood was small but Spartan, with tile floors, harsh overhead lights, low ceilings and walls with no windows. Normally it was used for debriefings or the occasional meeting, and the long table usually sat in the center surrounded by chairs. Except for the main headquarters in London, Order chapterhouses did not have designated courtrooms. While disorderly conduct among soldiers was expected from time to time, and desertion sometimes reared its ugly head, full-blown treason was unheard of. Loyalty to the cause was something every soldier of St. George understood. To betray the Order was to betray everything.

The man in the very center of the row straightened, eyeing me over the polished wood. His name was John Fischer, and he was a respected captain of the Order and a hero in the field. The left side of his face was a mass of burn scars and puckered flesh, and he wore them like a medal of honor. His steely expression didn’t change as he folded his equally scarred hands in front of him and raised his voice.

“Garret Xavier Sebastian.” He barked my full name, and the room instantly fell silent. The trial was officially under way. “For disobeying a direct order,” Fischer continued, “attacking a squad mate, fraternizing with the enemy and allowing three known hostiles to escape, you are accused of high treason against the Order of St. George.” His sharp blue eyes fixed on me, hard and unyielding. “Do you understand the charges brought against you?”

“I do.”

“Very well.” He looked at the men sitting in chairs along the far wall behind me, and nodded. “Then we will commence. Tristan St. Anthony, step forward.”

There was a squeak as a body rose from a chair, then quiet footsteps clicked across the floor as my former partner came to stand a few feet from my side.

I didn’t look at him. I stared straight ahead, hands behind my back, as he did the same. But I could see him in my peripheral vision, a tall, lean soldier several years older than me, his dark hair cropped close. His perpetual smirk had been replaced with a grim line, and his blue eyes were solemn as he faced the table.

“Please inform the court, to the best of your ability, of the events that led up to the night of the raid, and what conspired after.”

Tristan hesitated. I wondered what was going through his head in the split second before he would give his testimony. If he had any regrets that it had come to this.

“This summer,” Tristan began, his voice matter-of-fact, “Sebastian and I were sent undercover to Crescent Beach, a small town on the California coast. Our orders were specific—we were to infiltrate the town, find a sleeper planted among the population and terminate it.”

The man in the center raised a hand. “So, to be clear, Talon had planted one of their operatives in Crescent Beach, and you were sent to find it.”

“Yes, sir.” Tristan gave a short nod. “We were there to kill a dragon.”

A murmur went through the room. From the very first day the Order had been founded, soldiers of St. George had known what we fought for, what we protected, what was at stake. Our war, our holy mission, hadn’t changed in hundreds of years. The Order had evolved with the times—

firearms and technology had replaced swords and lances—but our purpose was still the same. We had one goal, and every soldier dedicated his entire life to that cause.

The complete annihilation of our eternal enemies, the dragons.

The general public knew nothing of our ancient war. The existence of dragons was a jealously guarded secret, on both sides. There were no real dragons in the world today, unless you counted a couple mundane lizard species that were pale shadows of their infamous namesakes. True dragons—the massive, winged, fire-breathing creatures that haunted the mythology of every culture around the world, from the treasure-loving monsters of Europe to the benevolent rain-bringers of the Orient—existed only in legend and story.

And that was exactly what they wanted you to believe.

Just as the Order of St. George had evolved through the years, so had our enemies. According to St. George doctrine, when dragons were on the verge of extinction, they’d made a pact with the devil to preserve their race, gaining the ability to Shift into human form. Whether or not the story was true, the part where they could change their form to appear human was no myth. Dragons were flawless mimics; they looked human, acted human, sounded human, to the point where it was nearly impossible to tell a dragon from a regular, everyday mortal, even if you knew what to search for. How many dragons existed in the world today was anyone’s guess; they had woven seamlessly into human society, masquerading as us, hiding in plain sight. Hidden and cloaked, they strove to enslave humanity, to make humans the lesser species. It was our job to find and kill as many of the monsters as we could, in the hopes that one day, we could push their numbers over the brink and firmly into extinction where they belonged.

That was what I’d once believed. Until I met her.

“I’ve read your report, St. Anthony,” Fischer continued. “It says you and Sebastian made contact with the suspect and began your investigation.”

“Yes, sir,” Tristan agreed. “We made contact with Ember Hill, and Garret began establishing a relationship, per orders, to determine if she was the sleeper.”

Ember. Her name sent a little pulse through my stomach. Before the events of Crescent Beach, I’d known who I was—a soldier of St. George. My mission was to make contact with the target, determine if it was a dragon and kill it. Clear-cut. Black-and-white. Simple.

Only…it wasn’t so simple. The target we’d been sent to destroy turned out to be a girl. A cheerful, daring, funny, beautiful girl. A girl who loved to surf, who taught me how to surf, who challenged me, made me laugh and surprised me every time I was with her. I’d been expecting a ruthless, duplicitous creature that could only imitate human emotion. But Ember was none of those things.

Fischer continued to address Tristan. “And what did you determine?” he asked, speaking more for the benefit of the court, I suspected. “Was this girl the sleeper?”

Tristan stared straight ahead, his expression grave. “Yes, sir,” he replied, and a shiver ran through me. “Ember Hill was the dragon we were sent to eliminate.”

“I see.” Fischer nodded. The entire room was silent; you could hear a fly buzzing around the window. “Please inform the court,” Fischer said quietly, “what happened the night of the raid. When you and Sebastian tracked the sleeper to the beach after the failed strike on the hideout.”

I swallowed, bracing to hear my betrayal lined out for everyone, play-by-play. The night that had brought me here, the decision that had changed everything.

“We’d found the target’s hideout,” Tristan began, his voice coolly professional. “A nest of at least two dragons, possibly more. It was a standard raid—go in, kill the targets, get out. But they must’ve had surveillance set up around the house. They were in the process of fleeing when we went in. We wounded one, but they still managed to escape.”

My stomach churned. I had led that strike. The targets had “escaped” because I’d seen Ember in that house, and I’d hesitated. My orders had been to shoot on sight—anything that moved, human or dragon, I was supposed to gun down, no questions asked.

But I hadn’t. I’d stared at the girl, unable to make myself pull the trigger. And that moment of indecision had cost us the raid, as Ember had Shifted to her true form and turned the room into a blazing inferno. During the fiery confusion, she and the other dragons had fled out the back and off a cliff, and the mansion had burned to the ground.

No one suspected what had happened in the room, that I’d seen Ember over the muzzle of my gun and had frozen. No one knew that the Perfect Soldier had faltered for the very first time. That in that moment, my world and everything I’d ever known had cracked.

But that was nothing compared to what had happened next.

“So the strike was a failure,” Fischer said, and I winced inside at the word. “What happened after that?”

For the briefest of moments, Tristan’s gaze flicked to me. Almost too fast to be seen, but it still made my heart pound. He knew. Maybe not the whole affair, but he knew something had happened to me after the failed strike. For a short time after the raid, while headquarters was deciding what to do about the escaped dragons, I’d disappeared. Tristan had found me a while later, and we’d gone after the targets together, but by that time, the damage was done.

What had happened after the raid, I’d never told anyone. Later that night, I’d called Ember, asked her to meet me on an isolated bluff, alone. I’d been wearing my helmet and mask during the raid; she hadn’t known I was part of St. George. From the hurried tone of her voice, I had guessed she was planning to leave town, possibly with her brother, now that she knew St. George was in the area. But she’d agreed to meet with me one last time. Probably to say goodbye.

I’d been planning to kill her. It was my fault the mission had failed; it was my responsibility to fix it. She was a dragon, and I was St. George. Nothing else mattered. But, once again, staring at the green-eyed girl down the barrel of my gun, the girl who’d taught me to surf and dance and sometimes smiled just for me… I couldn’t do it. It was more than a moment’s hesitation. More than a heartbeat of surprise. I’d stood face-to-face with the target I had been sent to Crescent Beach to destroy—the girl I knew was my enemy—and I could not make myself pull the trigger.

And that was when she’d attacked. One moment I was drawing down a wide-eyed human girl, the next I was on my back, pinned by a snarling red dragon, its fangs inches from my throat. In that moment, I’d known I was going to die, torn apart by claws or incinerated with dragonfire. I had dropped my guard, left myself open, and the dragon had responded as any of its kind would when faced with St. George. Strangely enough, I’d felt no regret.

And then, as I’d lain helpless beneath a dragon and braced myself for death, the unthinkable had happened.

She’d let me go.

Nothing had driven her off. No one from St. George had arrived in the nick of time to save me. We’d been alone, miles from anything. The bluff had been dark, deserted and isolated; even if I’d screamed, there’d been nothing, no one, to hear it.

Except the dragon. The ruthless, calculating monster that was supposed to despise mankind and possess no empathy, no humanity, whatsoever. The creature that hated St. George above all else and showed us no pity, gave no quarter or forgiveness. The target I’d lied to, the girl I’d pursued with the sole intent of destroying her, who could have ended my life right then with one quick slash or breath. The dragon who had a soldier of St. George beneath its claws, completely at its mercy…had deliberately backed off and let me go.

And I had realized…the Order was wrong. St. George taught us that dragons were monsters. We killed them without question, because there was nothing to question. They were alien, Other. Not like us.

Only…they were. Ember had already shaken every belief the Order had instilled in me about dragons; that she’d spared my life was the final blow, the proof I couldn’t ignore. Which meant that some of the dragons I’d killed in the past, gunned down without thought because the Order had told me to, might’ve been like her.

And if that was the case, I had a lot of innocent blood on my hands.

“After the raid,” Tristan said, continuing to address the table, “Garret and I were ordered to follow Ember Hill in the hopes that she would lead us to the other targets. We tracked her to a beach on the edge of town, where she did indeed meet with two other dragons. A juvenile and an adult.”

Another murmur ran through the courtroom. “An adult,” Fischer confirmed, while the rest of the table looked grim. Full-grown adult dragons were rarely seen; the oldest dragons were also the most secretive, keeping to the shadows, hiding deep within their organization. The Order knew

Talon’s leader was an extremely old, extremely powerful dragon called the Elder Wyrm, but no one had ever laid eyes on it.

“Yes, sir,” Tristan went on. “We were to observe and report if the target revealed itself as a dragon, and all three were in their true forms when we got there. I informed Commander St. Francis at once and received the order to shoot on sight.” He paused, and Fischer’s eyes narrowed.

“What happened then, soldier?”

“Garret stopped me, sir. He prevented me from taking the shot.”

“Did he give any reason for his actions?”

“Yes, sir.” Tristan took a deep breath, as if the next words were difficult to say. “He told me…that the Order was wrong.”

Silence fell. A stunned, brittle silence that raised the hair on the back of my neck. To imply that the Order was mistaken was to spit on the code that the first knights had implemented centuries ago. The code that denounced dragons as soulless wyrms of the devil and their human sympathizers as corrupted, beyond hope.

“Is there anything else?” Fischer’s expression was cold, mirroring the looks of everyone at the table. Tristan paused again, then nodded.

“Yes, sir. He said that he wouldn’t let me kill the targets, that some dragons weren’t evil and that we didn’t have to slaughter them. When I tried to reason with him, he attacked me. We fought, briefly, and he knocked me out.”

I winced. I hadn’t meant to injure my partner. But I couldn’t let him fire. Tristan’s sniping skills were unmatched. He would’ve killed at least one dragon before they realized what was happening. I couldn’t stand there and watch Ember be murdered in front of me.

“By the time I woke up,” Tristan finished, “the targets had escaped. Garret surrendered to our squad leader and was taken into custody, but we were unable to find the dragons again.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes, sir.”

Fischer nodded. “Thank you, St. Anthony. Garret Xavier Sebastian,” he went on, turning to me as Tristan stepped away. His eyes and voice remained hard. “You’ve heard the charges brought against you. Do you have anything to say in your defense?”

I took a quiet breath.

“I do.” I raised my head, facing the men at the table. I’d been debating whether I wanted to say anything, to tell the Order to its face that they had been mistaken all this time. This would damn me even further, but I had to try. I owed it to Ember, and all the dragons I had killed.

“This summer,” I began, as the flat stares of the table shifted to me, “I went to Crescent Beach expecting to find a dragon. I didn’t.” One of the men blinked; the rest simply continued to stare as I went on. “What I found was a girl, someone just like me in a lot of ways. But she was also her own person. There was no imitation of humanity, no artificial emotions or gestures. Everything she did was genuine. Our mission took so long because I couldn’t see any differences between Ember Hill and a civilian.”

The silence in the courtroom now took on a lethal stillness. Gabriel Martin’s face was like stone, his stare icy. I didn’t dare turn to look at Tristan, but I could feel his incredulous gaze on my back.

I swallowed the dryness in my throat. “I’m not asking for clemency,” I went on. “My actions that night were inexcusable. But I beg the court to consider my suggestion that not all dragons are the same. Ember Hill could be an anomaly among her kind, but from what I saw she wanted nothing to do with the war. If there are others like her—”

“Thank you, Sebastian.” Fischer’s voice was clipped. His chair scraped the floor as he pushed it back and stood, gazing over the room. “Court is adjourned,” he announced. “We will reconvene in an hour. Dismissed.”

* * *

Back in my cell, I sat on the hard mattress with my back against the wall and one knee drawn to my chest, waiting for the court to decide my fate. I wondered if they would consider my words. If the impassioned testimony of the former Perfect Soldier would be enough to give them pause.

“Garret.”

I looked up. Tristan’s lean, wiry form stood in front of the cell bars. His face was stony, but I looked closer and saw that his expression was conflicted, almost tormented. He glared at me, midnight-blue eyes searing a hole through my skull, before he sighed and made an angry, hopeless gesture, shaking his head.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

I looked away. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Bullshit.” Tristan stepped forward, looking like he might punch me in the head if there weren’t iron bars between us. “Three years we’ve been partners. Three years we’ve fought together, killed together, nearly gotten ourselves eaten a couple times. I’ve saved your hide countless times, and yes, I know you’ve done the same for me. You owe me a damn explanation, partner. And don’t you dare say something stupid, like I wouldn’t understand. I know you better than that.”

When I didn’t answer, he clenched a fist around a bar, brow furrowed in confusion and anger. “What happened in Crescent Beach, Garret?” he demanded, though his voice was almost pleading. “You’re the freaking Perfect Soldier. You know the code by heart. You can recite the tenets in your sleep, backward if you need to. Why would you betray everything?”

“I don’t know—”

“It was the girl, wasn’t it?” Tristan’s voice made my stomach drop. “The dragon. She did something to you. Damn, I should’ve seen it. You hung out with her a lot. She could’ve been manipulating you that whole time.”

“It wasn’t like that.” In the old days, it was suspected that dragons could cast spells on weak-minded humans, enslaving them through mind control and magic. Though that rumor had officially been discounted, there were still those in St. George who believed the old superstitions. Not that Tristan had been one of them; he was just as coolly pragmatic as me, one of the reasons we got along so well. But I suspected it was easier for him to accept that an evil dragon had turned his friend against his will, rather than that friend knowingly and deliberately betraying him and the Order. You can’t blame Garret; the dragon made him do it.

But it wasn’t anything Ember had done. It was just… everything about her. Her passion, her fearlessness, her love for life. Even in the middle of the mission, I’d forgotten that she was a potential target, that she could be a dragon, the very creature I was there to destroy. When I was around Ember, I didn’t see her as an objective, or a target, or the enemy. I just saw her.

“What, then?” Tristan demanded, sounding angry again. “What, exactly, was it like, Garret? Please explain it to me. Explain to me how my partner, the soldier who has killed more dragons then anyone his age in the history of St. George, suddenly decided that he couldn’t kill this dragon. Explain how he could turn his back on his family, on the Order that raised him, taught him everything he knows and gave him a purpose, to side with the enemy. Explain how he could stab his own partner in the back, to save one dragon bitch who…”

Tristan stopped. Stared at me. I watched the realization creep over him, watched the color drain from his face as the pieces came together.

“Oh, my God,” he whispered and took one staggering step away from the bars. His jaw hung slack, and he slowly shook his head, his voice full of horrified disbelief. “You’re in love with it.”

I looked away and stared at the far wall. Tristan blew out a long breath.

“Garret.” His voice was a rasp, choked with disgust and loathing. And maybe something else. Pity. “I don’t… How could—”

“Don’t say anything, Tristan.” I didn’t look at my ex-partner; I didn’t have to see him to know exactly what he felt. “You don’t have to tell me. I know.”

“They’re going to kill you, Garret,” he went on, his voice low and strained. “After what you said today in the courtroom? Martin might’ve argued clemency if you’d admitted you were wrong, that you had a brief moment of insanity, that the dragons had tricked you, anything! You could have lied. You’re one of our best—they might’ve let you live, even after everything. But now?” He made a hopeless sound. “You’ll be executed for treason against the Order. You know that, right?”

I nodded. I’d known the outcome of the trial before I ever set foot in that courtroom. I knew I could have denounced my actions, pleaded for mercy, told them what they wanted to hear. I had been deceived, lied to, manipulated. Because that’s what dragons did, and even the soldiers of St. George were not immune. It would paint me the fool, and my Perfect Soldier record would be tarnished for all time, but being duped by the enemy was not the same as knowingly betraying the Order. Tristan was right; I could have lied, and they would’ve believed me.

I hadn’t. Because I couldn’t do this anymore.

Tristan waited a moment longer, then strode away without another word. I listened to his receding footsteps and knew this was the last time I would ever talk to him. I looked up.

“Tristan.”

For a second, I didn’t think he would stop. But he paused in the doorway of the cell block and looked back at me.

“For what it’s worth,” I said, holding his gaze, “I’m sorry.” He blinked, and I forced a faint smile. “Thanks…for having my back all this time.”

One corner of his mouth twitched. “I always knew you’d get yourself killed by a dragon,” he muttered. “I just didn’t think it would be like this.” He gave a tiny snort and rolled his eyes. “You realize my next partner is going to feel completely inadequate taking the Perfect Soldier’s place, and will probably have a nervous breakdown that I’m going to have to deal with. So, thanks for that.”

“At least you’ll have something to remember me by.”

“Yeah.” The small grin faded. We watched each other for a tense, awkward moment, before Tristan St. Anthony stepped away.

“Take care, partner,” he said. No other words were needed. No goodbye, or see you later. We both knew there wouldn’t be a later.

“You, too.”

He turned and walked out the door.

* * *

“The court has reached a decision.”

I stood in the courtroom again as Fischer rose to his feet, addressing us all. I spared a quick glance at Martin and found that he was gazing at a spot over my head, his eyes blank.

“Garret Xavier Sebastian,” Fischer began, his voice brisk, “by unanimous decision, you have been found guilty of high treason against the Order of St. George. For your crimes, you will be executed by firing squad tomorrow at dawn. May God have mercy on your soul.”

Dante

Fifteenth floor and counting.

The elevator box was cold. Stark. A pithy tune played somewhere overhead, tinny and faint. Mirrored walls surrounded us, blurred images staring back, showing a man in a gray suit and tie, and a teen standing at his shoulder, hands folded before him. I observed my reflection with the practiced cool detachment my trainer insisted upon. My new black suit was perfectly tailored, not a thread out of place, my crimson hair cut short and styled appropriately. A red silk tie was tucked neatly into my suit jacket, my shoes were polished to a dark sheen and the large gold Rolex was a cool, heavy band around my wrist. I didn’t look like that human boy from Crescent Beach, in shorts and a tank top, his longish hair messy and windblown. I didn’t look like a teen without a care in the world. No, I had completed assimilation. I’d proven myself, to Talon and the organization. I’d passed all my tests and confirmed that I could be trusted, that I cared about the survival of our race above all else.

I wished my sister had done the same. Because of her, our future was in question. Because of her, I didn’t know what Talon wanted from me now.

On the thirtieth floor, the elevator stopped, and the doors slid back with barely a hiss. I stepped into a magnificent lobby tiled in red and gold, my shoes clicking against the floor and echoing into the vast space above us. I gazed around, taking it in, smiling to myself. It was everything I’d imagined, everything I’d hoped Talon would be. Which was good, because I had plans for it all.

One day, I’ll be running this place.

My trainer, who’d told me to call him Mr. Smith at the beginning of my education, led me into the room, then turned to me with a smile. Unlike some dragons whose smiles seemed forced, his was warm and inviting and looked completely genuine, if you didn’t notice the cool impassiveness in his eyes.

“Ready?”

“Of course,” I said, trying not to appear nervous. Unfortunately, Mr. Smith could sense fear and tension like a shark sensed blood, for his eyes hardened even as his smile grew broader.

“Relax, Dante,” he said, putting a hand on my shoulder. It was meant to be comforting, but there was no warmth in the gesture. I’d learned enough to realize that all his overtures were empty; he’d taught me that himself. You didn’t have to believe what you were saying; you just had to make others believe that you cared. “You’ll be fine, trust me.”

“You don’t have to worry about me, sir,” I told him, determined to show nothing but cool confidence. A stark contrast to the twisting bundle of nerves in my stomach. “I know why I’m here. And I know what I have to do.”

He squeezed my shoulder and, even though I knew better, I relaxed. We turned, and I followed him down a narrow hallway lined with office doors, around a corner and finally to a single large door at the end of the hall. A simple gold sign hung against the painted wood: A. R. Roth.

My stomach cartwheeled again. Mr. Roth was one of

Talon’s senior vice presidents. One of the dragons who, while not so far up the chain that he was in contact with the Elder Wyrm itself, was pretty darn close. And he wanted to talk to me. Probably about Ember and what they planned to do about her.

Ember. I felt a brief stab of anger and fear for my wayward twin; anger that she would be so stubborn, so rebellious and ungrateful, that she would turn her back on her own kind—the organization that had raised us—to run off with a known traitor, consequences be damned. Fear of what those consequences could be. Under normal circumstances, a Viper, one of Talon’s fearsome assassins, would be dispatched to deal with a dragon who went rogue. It was harsh but necessary. Rogue dragons were unstable and dangerous, and they put the survival of our race in jeopardy. Without Talon’s structure, a rogue could accidentally, or even purposefully, reveal our existence to the humans, and that would spell disaster for us all. The human world could never know that dragons walked among them; their instinctive fear of monsters and the unknown would overtake them, just as it had hundreds of years ago, and we’d be driven toward extinction again.

I knew the measures Talon had to take against rogues were necessary. Though the loss of any dragon was a heavy blow to us all, those who refused to align themselves with the organization had already chosen their path, proven their disloyalty. They had to be put down. I understood. I wasn’t going to argue that.

But Ember wasn’t a traitor. She had been misled, deceived, by that rogue dragon. She’d always been hotheaded, gullible, and he had fed her a tangle of lies, turning her against Talon, her own race…and me. He was at fault for her disappearance. Ember had always had…problems…with authority, but she’d been able to see reason and listen to the truth until she met the rogue.

I clenched my jaw. If she just returned to the organization, she would realize her mistake. I would make her see the truth: that the rogues were dangerous, that Talon had our best interests at heart and that the only way to survive in a world of humans was to work together. Ut onimous sergimus. As one, we rise. She’d believed that, once.

I had never lost sight of it.

We stepped through the door frame into a cold, stark office. One entire wall was made up of windows, and through the glass, the city of Los Angeles stretched on to the distant mountains, towers and skyscrapers glinting in the sun.

“Mr. Roth,” said Mr. Smith, ushering me forward, “this is Dante Hill.”

A man rose from behind a large black desk to greet us, smiling as he stepped forward with a hand outstretched. He wore a navy blue suit and a watch that was even more impressive than mine, and a gold-capped pen glinted in a breast pocket. His dark hair had been cropped into short spikes, and his even darker eyes swept over me critically, even as he took my hand in both of his, nearly crushing my fingers in a grip of steel.

“Dante Hill! Pleasure to meet you.” He squeezed my hand, and I bit down a whimper, smiling through the pain. “How was your trip up?”

“Fine, sir,” I replied, relieved as he loosened his viselike grip and stepped away. Talon had sent a car to take us from Crescent Beach to Los Angeles, but the drive had been far from relaxing, with my trainer drilling me on company policies, protocol and how to act in front of the regional vice president. I was an insignificant hatchling, meeting with an elder who was likely several hundred years old. First impressions were crucial. And a terrible faux pas was, of course, to complain in the presence of Talon’s executives, especially if it was about the organization. “It was so smooth, I barely noticed the drive.”

“Wonderful, wonderful.” He nodded and gestured to the plush leather chair sitting in front of his desk. “Please, have a seat. Can I have my assistant get you something to drink?”

“No, thank you, sir,” I said, knowing the drill. “I’m all right.” I sat carefully in one of the chairs, feeling myself sink into the cool leather, careful not to slouch. Mr. Smith did the same and crossed his legs as Mr. Roth returned around his desk and beamed at me.

“So, Mr. Hill. Let’s not beat around the bush.” Mr. Roth clasped his hands on the desk in front of him and smiled over the surface. As I’d been taught, I politely dropped my gaze so I wouldn’t be staring right into his eyes. Another social gaffe, and a very dangerous one: holding the stare of another dragon, particularly a male, was a blatant challenge or threat. In ancient times, the challenge between two alpha drakes would be settled via personal combat, with the contenders ripping, biting and slashing each other, until one of them either fled in defeat or was killed. Nowadays, two rival dragons obviously couldn’t throw down in the middle of the city, but there were a thousand other ways to destroy a competitor without getting your claws dirty. Which was good, because that was something I could excel at.

“Your sister,” Mr. Roth said, making my insides clench, “has gone rogue.” He observed my reaction carefully; I kept my face neutral, showing no anger, surprise, sorrow, shock—nothing that would be considered a weakness. After a brief pause, Mr. Roth continued, “Ember Hill is now a traitor in the eyes of Talon, something we take very seriously here. I am sure you know our policy on rogues, but I have heard the organization wishes you to be in charge of retrieving her, Mr. Hill.”

“Yes, sir,” I replied, careful not to sound overeager. “Whatever it takes to bring her back, whatever you need me to do, I’m your man.”

Mr. Roth raised an eyebrow.

“And yet, some have called into question your own loyalty, both to Talon and our cause. As the brother of a known traitor, we worry that your motivations might be…tainted.” He offered a smile, even as his eyes stayed hard and cold. “So, I fear I must ask. Can we trust you, Mr. Hill?”

I smiled. “Sir,” I began, as clearly and confidently as I could. “I know my sister. Ember and I have always had…

different opinions, when it came to the organization. I know she can be reckless and stubborn, and that she has a slight problem with authority.” A tiny snort from Mr. Smith was the only indicator of my massive understatement.

“But Ember isn’t a traitor,” I went on, feeling Mr. Roth’s hard gaze on me, assessing and critical. “She’s gullible and hotheaded, and I believe the rogue dragon Cobalt took advantage of this to get her to leave with him. He lied to her about the organization, and he lied to her about me, otherwise she would have never turned on us like this.”

Mr. Roth’s expression hadn’t changed. And neither had mine. “Ember tried to get me to come with her that night,” I admitted, seeing no indication of surprise from Mr. Roth. “She begged me to leave town with her and the rogue, but I knew I couldn’t do it. Not because of the consequences, but because I know my place.” I raised my chin slightly, not enough to challenge, just enough to state my cause. “Sir, my loyalty to Talon has never wavered. I don’t know why Talon is taking a less…direct approach to dealing with my sister, why the Elder Wyrm has chosen to spare her, but I do know that I am grateful. And I’ll do whatever it takes to bring Ember back so she can resume her place in Talon, where she belongs.”

Mr. Roth nodded.

“Excellent, Mr. Hill,” he said in a bright tone of voice. “That is exactly what we want to hear.” He picked up his desk phone and pressed a button on the machine. “Please send Ms. Anderson in,” he ordered into the speaker. I blinked, wondering who Ms. Anderson could be; I’d never met her before.

Abruptly, Mr. Roth stood, which prompted us to rise, too. “Your words are commendable, Mr. Hill,” the VP said, walking around to stand beside us. “Therefore, Talon is prepared to give you the best possible resources to locate and bring back your sister. In a moment, you’ll be shown to your new office, but for now, there is someone I want you to meet.”

I gave a pleasant nod, though my mind was spinning. New office? And the best resources possible to find her? I was pleased, of course. It seemed the organization had recognized my potential, but at the same time, I knew this was abnormal. Talon was huge; its reach spanned the globe, and it had countless other developments, mostly of the multimillion-dollar variety, to worry about. The disappearance of a single hatchling, rogue or not, was barely a blip on its radar. Why? Why are they going through all this trouble to find one hatchling? Ember, what have you done?

The office door clicked softly as it opened, and Mr. Roth raised a beckoning hand.

“Ah, Ms. Anderson. Please come in. Have you met Mr. Hill?”

“Haven’t had the pleasure,” said a lilting, musical voice. I turned to face the newcomer. My brows arched a bit, and I straightened quickly. Not a human; this was another dragon, and on top of that, a hatchling. Except for my sister, I’d only ever met with adult and senior dragons, but this girl looked just a year or two older than me. She was fair and slender, wearing a light blue skirt and heels and looking faintly uncomfortable in them. Like she’d rather be wearing jeans and a T-shirt. Her pale, almost silvery hair was styled atop her head, the sides pulled back to accent her high cheekbones, and the large, crystal-blue eyes stared straight ahead.

“This is Mist,” Mr. Roth introduced as she regarded me in silence, her gaze coolly remote. “Ms. Anderson, this is Mr. Hill. I expect the pair of you will get along famously.”

I hid my surprise. By introducing her by her first name, Roth was subtly informing her—informing all of us—that I was in charge. That, although she was slightly older and had probably been working here awhile, we were not equals. I hoped the other hatchling wouldn’t challenge my position, but Mist held out her hand as if this meeting was nothing out of the ordinary. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Hill,” she said, her voice as cool as her face. I took the offered hand with a wide smile.

“Mist.” I smiled, holding her gaze. “The pleasure is mine.”

“Ms. Anderson is one of our newer operatives,” Mr. Roth continued, seemingly unaware, or uncaring, of the tension as we sized each other up. “She comes highly recommended by her trainer, and we believe her skills are adequate for this situation. She will be aiding you in the search for our wayward Ember.

“Ms. Anderson,” Mr. Roth continued. “Would you please introduce Mr. Hill to the rest of his team and then have someone show him his office? I would take him myself, but I have a meeting with your trainer in a few minutes. Mr. Hill…” He turned to me. “You say you have your sister’s best interests at heart? Now is your chance to prove it. Bring her back to Talon, where she belongs. We will be keeping an eye on your progress.”

I nodded politely, though I knew the meaning behind those words. We’ll be watching you was the translation of that statement. Don’t disappoint us.

I won’t, I promised silently, and turned away.

As I followed Mist out of Mr. Roth’s office, I nearly ran into someone coming in, and I stepped aside with a hasty apology. The person I’d almost hit barely gave me a second glance as she passed, but my stomach dropped as I met her familiar poison-green eyes. Lilith, Talon’s elite Viper assassin, gave a short nod, recognizing me as well, before continuing into Mr. Roth’s office and closing the door behind her.

Apprehension flickered. Why is Lilith here? I thought. Is she…? I glanced at Mist, walking beside me with her eyes straight ahead. Is she Mist’s trainer? Is that why she’s here?

Wary now, I followed Mist into the elevator, keeping her in my side view as she pressed a button, still not looking at me. The doors slid shut, and the box began to move.

“So.” Mist’s voice echoed in the tiny space, startling me. I’d been expecting her to stay quiet and distant, not speaking unless absolutely necessary. I’d been about to break the silence myself and was surprised that she’d beat me to it. “You’re Dante Hill.”

Her voice was a challenge. It seemed we were going to butt heads after all, unless I could win her over. I could’ve used my position to demand obedience; Roth had put me in charge, after all, but resentful employees did not produce fast results. If I was going to find Ember quickly, I needed her on my side.

Smiling, I leaned against the wall and put my hands in my pockets, adopting a pose of easy nonchalance. “I am,” I agreed pleasantly. “Though you seem surprised, Mist. Let me guess—you expected me to be taller.”

Mist’s expression remained neutral. “A Chameleon in training,” she remarked, raising a slender eyebrow, “using humor to defuse a tense situation. Classic disarming technique.”

I kept the smile on my face. “Did it work?”

She blinked, and the other corner of her mouth twitched. “No,” she replied, though her eyes said differently. “But thank you for trying. I am, unfortunately, well versed in the various faction trainings and techniques. Your Chameleon charm is not going to work on me, I’m afraid.”

“Give it time.”

The elevator had passed the first floor. And still, we continued to descend. Past the basement, and the subbasement, going even deeper underground. “Do you have something against Chameleons?” I went on, wondering how many sublevels this place had. The glowing numbers above the door had stopped moving altogether.

“Not at all,” Mist replied. “Chameleons are a vital part of Talon. We all have our place.” Her piercing blue eyes remained brutally honest as she looked me over, assessing. “What I don’t like is having vital information kept from me, especially if I need it to do my job.”

I gave her a puzzled frown. “You think I’m hiding something from you? That’s a rather hasty conclusion. We haven’t known each other very long.”

“It’s not you, Mr. Hill.” Mist’s tone remained coolly polite. “But you must know that this situation with your sister is not normal. Why is Talon so interested in her? Cobalt I can

understand—he’s a dangerous fugitive who has caused real harm to the organization, and his actions cannot be ignored any longer. The rogue must be stopped, that is very clear.” Her piercing blue gaze sharpened, cutting into me. “But why is Talon so invested in bringing her back? Why go through all this trouble? Ember Hill is a hatchling who has done nothing for the organization.” Mist’s eyes narrowed even further. “Why is she so special?”

Her words were eerily familiar, as I heard my own suspicions parroted back at me. The situation with Ember wasn’t normal. Talon was expending considerable resources to return her to the organization when they could have sent out a Viper and been done with it. Even bringing me on was puzzling. Yes, I was her brother and the person who knew her best, but why bother? What made her—our—situation so special?

However, I wasn’t going to tell Mist that I shared her concerns. If I was going to bring Ember back, if I was going to make a future for us in Talon, then I had to appear fully in control of the situation at all times. I could not appear weak, or scared, or unsure, because Talon had no use for dragons who failed. I was not going to fail.

“I’m afraid I can’t give you the details,” I told Mist, who gave me a cold look but didn’t seem surprised. Talon shared information only if they thought it was necessary; that much at least she understood. “I would,” I went on, “if I were allowed. Just know that finding Ember is our top priority. The Elder Wyrm wishes that she be returned to the organization. The reasons are irrelevant.”

The elevator stopped, and the doors slid open. Mist watched me a moment longer, blue eyes appraising, then gave a tiny nod. “Of course,” she said, coolly professional once more, and motioned me into the hall. “This way, Mr. Hill. I’ll introduce you to the rest of the team.”

“Just call me Dante,” I invited, a tactic to gain her loyalty, and followed her down a long, brightly lit corridor past several offices, until we came to a door at the very end. Without hesitation, Mist pushed it back, and we went through.

I gazed around, impressed. The room beyond was enormous, a sprawling floor of desks, computers, flashing screens, and people. Aisles of long counters snaked their way across the room, each holding numerous computers with glassy-eyed humans sitting in front of them. The entire back wall was one enormous screen divided into numerous parts that projected a dozen images of maps, satellite feeds, security cams and more. The murmur of voices, ringing phones, buzzing computers and clicking keyboards all blended into a general cacophony of noise that flowed over me as I stepped through the door.

“This is our operating center,” Mist explained, leading me across the floor. All around us, humans hurried by or typed feverishly at their desks, avoiding eye contact. Mist continued as if she didn’t notice or care. “Talon has dozens of these centers all around the world. It’s where we monitor Talon’s assets, keep an eye on St. George movement and track persons of interest to the organization. We’re mostly in charge of the western region of the US, which is where we think your sister is right now.”

She stopped at a desk where two humans sat across from each other, a pair of large screens separating them. When Mist’s shadow fell over the desk, the overweight male and small bespectacled female looked up and gave her polite, fixed smiles, which she ignored.

“Mr. Davids and Ms. Kimura have been tasked with locating your sister,” Mist told me, not even looking at the two humans. “They’ve been trying to pinpoint her location ever since she left Crescent Beach. Unfortunately, they’ve been unable to find any trace of her, or Cobalt, unless something has changed in the time I’ve been gone?”

She looked down at the humans as she said this, and both of them went pale.

“No, ma’am,” the male said quickly. “So far, there have been no leads on Ember Hill or the rogue dragon Cobalt. We know they’re still in California somewhere, but other than that, we’ve been unable to get a lock on them.”

“Where have you been looking?” I asked, making all of them glance at me. Mist raised her eyebrows in amused—or annoyed—surprise, but I ignored her. The humans paused, obviously wondering who I was, some bossy kid in a business suit come strolling into their affairs. I kept the smile on my face and held their gazes with my own, polite but expectant, and after a moment, they looked away.

“We’ve been able to uncover a couple of Cobalt’s nests in the past,” the male informed me, quickly turning back to the screen. “His so-called ‘safe houses’ for rogue dragons. We’ve been monitoring those areas, hoping he might return to one of them to hide. Unfortunately, when one goes down, he often moves the rest, so we haven’t been able to pin him down.”

“What about his network?” I asked. “If he has so many safe houses, he has to be able to communicate with them somehow. Have you tried tracing messages back to his location?”

“Of course,” the other human said. “We’ve been trying to breach his security for years. But we’ve never been able to crack it. Whoever’s on the other side knows exactly what he’s doing to keep us out.”

“What about St. George?” I asked. “Do you have ways of tracking them?”

All three stared at me, varying degrees of confusion and doubt crossing their faces. “Yes,” the female human said slowly. “Of course, we have extensive systems for monitoring any movement made by the Order. But we already determined that the cell in Crescent Beach returned to their chapterhouse. When Ms. Hill and Cobalt fled town, their trail went cold, and St. George abandoned the search. There hasn’t been any movement from the Order for days, at least not in this region.”

“Do you know where this chapterhouse is?”

More puzzled looks. “We could probably find it,” the male human said, furrowing his brow. “But, like we said, St. George activity has been quiet the past few days. We believe trying to find Cobalt’s underground network is more important—”

“Stop looking for the safe houses,” I interrupted. “Ember won’t be there. If I know my sister at all, she won’t be content to sit and hide. You’re wasting your time looking for them.” I glanced at the huge screen on the far wall. “Find St. George,” I said, feeling Mist’s curious gaze on me. “Start looking for the Order. The chapterhouse is a good place to begin. Find it, and tell me when you do.”

The humans gaped at me, clearly dumbfounded but too polite to say anything. Mist, however, had no such reservations. “Why?” she asked is a low, cool voice. “You’re telling us to abandon the search for the rogue’s network when we have clear orders from Talon’s VP to locate it, and your sister. Do you know something we don’t, Mr. Hill?”

“No,” I said, keeping my gaze on the far wall, on one of the many maps spread across the screen. I didn’t have any concrete evidence. It was just a hunch, a suspicion, that had been plaguing me since before I left Crescent Beach. But my intuition was rarely wrong, and I’d learned to trust my gut, especially when it came to my sister. I only wished I had listened to it earlier. Much, much earlier.

“But there was…a human,” I went on, as they all stared at me like I’d gone insane. “One of the people I met in Crescent Beach. He was a friend of my sister’s. Really, I only saw him once or twice. But…there was always something about him, something that I didn’t like. I saw him fight, once—he was definitely trained. And he just showed up out of nowhere one day, always hanging around my sister.”

“That is not enough reason to suspect someone, Mr. Hill,” Mist said in her calm, logical voice. “You can’t expect us to drop everything and switch to a new plan of action simply because you have a hunch.”

“The night Ember left Crescent Beach,” I continued, ignoring that last statement, “she told me she was going to meet this human, alone. She said she wanted to tell him goodbye before she went rogue.” I paused, my chest tightening with the memory. “That was the last time I saw her.

“I don’t know if that human was part of the Order,” I went on, looking back at Mist and the Talon employees. “But I suspect that he was. And both Ember and Lilith were attacked that night by St. George. Ember was close to that human. She…might’ve told him things, about us. About Talon. If you can find him, track the cell he belongs to, he might lead us to Ember.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

I narrowed my gaze. “Then you can blame it on me. But it’s worth a shot. Better than searching for places where she might show up or trying to crack this impossible-to-breach network.”

She gave me a long, appraising look. “All right, Mr. Hill,” she finally said. “It’s not like we have a choice. Mr. Roth did put you in charge, after all. We’ll do it your way.” She turned to the humans. “You heard him, then. Find that chapterhouse. Start monitoring all St. George activity in the region. If the Order so much as sneezes, I want to know.” She looked back at me, crystal-blue eyes defiant. “Did you happen to catch this special human’s name, Mr. Hill?”

I nodded. “Yes,” I said, feeling a slow burn of anger in the pit of my stomach. Anger at the rogue, and St. George, and the human, for taking my sister away. At jeopardizing all my plans with Talon. I would find her, and nothing would stop me from bringing her back. “His name was Garret Xavier Sebastian.”

Ember

Three hours on the back of a motorcycle, the sun beating down on your shoulders and the wind whipping through your hair, though exhilarating, reminds you why flying wins every time.

“You okay back there, Firebrand?” Riley called over his shoulder. I peeked up from his leather jacket and caught my reflection in his dark shades. My hair whipped and snapped like a flame atop my head, too short to tie back but just long enough to be horribly tangled when we stopped. Before us, the highway stretched on, an endless strip of pavement heading east. Around us, the Mojave Desert provided much the same scenery: sand, scrub, cactus, rock and the occasional hawk or turkey vulture. The air shimmered with heat, but heat never bothered me. My kind was well adapted to dealing with blistering temperatures.

“My butt has gone numb!” I called back, making him smirk. “My hair is going to take hours to untangle, and I think I’ve eaten like four bugs. And I swear, Riley, if you tell me I should keep my mouth closed, you’re going to be riding the rest of the way sidesaddle.”

He grinned. “We’re about forty-five minutes out. Just hang on.”

Sighing, I laid my chin against his back, watching the eternal sameness flash by around us, and let my mind wander.

It had been three days since we left Crescent Beach. Three days since my world had been turned upside down, since I’d learned Talon was hiding things from me, since I’d fought the Order of St. George and discovered that Garret wasn’t who I thought he was. Three days since I’d made the decision to go rogue and leave town with Riley, abandoning my family and my old life, and branding myself a traitor in the eyes of Talon.

Three days since I’d last seen Garret. And Dante.

I clenched a fist in Riley’s jacket, my emotions churning with anger, sadness and guilt toward them both. Anger that they’d lied, that I’d trusted them, only to have them betray that trust. Garret was part of St. George; he’d been sent to Crescent Beach to kill me. Dante, the brother who’d promised to have my back no matter what, had turned me in to Talon when he’d discovered I was going rogue. But at least Garret had redeemed himself somewhat, saving me and Riley from a Talon assassin, then warning us that his own people were on their way. It was because of him that I was here now, on the back of a motorcycle with Riley, flying across the Mojave Desert. I didn’t know where my brother was, but I hoped he was okay. He might’ve abandoned me to Talon, but I knew Dante. He thought he had been doing the right thing.

Idiot twin. He still didn’t know the truth about the organization, the dark secrets they kept, the lies they told us. I’d make him see, eventually. I would get him out of Talon soon.

After I took care of this other thing.

The sun was beginning to drop toward the horizon when Riley slowed and pulled off the highway into a large, nearly empty lot on the side of the road. A sign at the edge of the pavement cast a long shadow over us as we cruised by, making me squint as I gazed up at it.

“‘Spanish Manor,’” I read, then looked at the “manor” in question, finding a boxy, derelict motel at the end of the nearly empty parking lot. Peeling yellow doors were placed every thirty or so feet, and ugly orange curtains hung in the darkened windows. Exactly one car, an aging white van, was parked in the spaces out front, and if not for the flickering vacancy sign in the office window, I would’ve thought the place completely abandoned.

Riley cruised up beside the van and killed the engine, and we both swung off the bike. Relieved to be able to move around again, I put my arms over my head and stretched until I felt my back pop. Gingerly, I tried running my fingers through my hair and found it hopelessly tangled, as I’d feared. Wincing, I tugged at the snarls and tore loose several fiery red strands while Riley looked on in amusement. I scowled at him.

“Ow. Okay, next time, I get a helmet,” I said, and his grin widened even more. I rolled my eyes and continued my hopeless battle with the tangles. Of all the human beauty traditions, I found hair the most time-consuming and obnoxious. So much time was wasted washing, brushing, teasing and primping it; scales never had this problem. “Where are we, anyway?” I muttered, separating a stubborn knot with my fingers, trying to ignore the dragon beside me. It was hard. Lean, tall and broad-shouldered, clad in leather and chains, Riley certainly cut the figure of a perfect rebel biker boy leaning so casually against his motorcycle, the breeze tugging at his dark hair. He took off his shades and stuck them in a back pocket.

“We’re about an hour from Vegas,” he said, and nodded to the ramshackle Spanish Manor squatting at the edge of the lot. “Wes told me to meet him here. Come on.”

I followed him over the parking lot, up a rusting flight of stairs and down the second-story hall until we came to a faded yellow door near the end. The curtains were drawn over the grimy window, and the interior of the room looked dark. Riley glanced around, then knocked on the wood, three swift taps followed by two slower ones.

A pause, and then the door swung open to reveal a thin, lanky human on the other side, dark eyes peering at us beneath a scruff of messy brown hair. He scowled at me by way of greeting, then stepped back to let us in.

“About time you showed up.” Wes slammed the door and threw the locks as if we were in a superspy movie and there could be enemy agents lurking outside, hiding in the cactus. “I thought you’d be here hours ago. What happened?”

“Had to make a quick stop in L.A. for a few things,” Riley answered, brushing by him. He did not mention the “things” in question, namely, a duffel bag full of ammo and firearms. Both he and Wes ignored me, so I turned to gaze around the room. A quick glance was all that was required; it was small, rumpled, unremarkable, with an unmade bed against the wall and soda cans scattered everywhere. A laptop sat open and glowing on the corner desk, nonsensical words and formulas splayed across the screen in neat rows.

“Riley…” Wes began, a note of warning in his voice.

“Where are the hatchlings?” Riley asked, overriding whatever he was going to say. “Are they all right? Did you find the safe house?”

“They’re fine,” Wes answered, sounding impatient. “They’re holed up near San Francisco with that Walter chap, with strict instructions not to poke one scale out of the house until they hear from you. They’re bloody peachy. We’re the ones we have to worry about now.”

“Good.” Riley nodded briskly and walked across the room to the desk, then bent down to the screen. “I assume this is it, then?” he muttered, narrowing his eyes. “Where we’ll be going tonight? Did you get everything you needed?”

“Riley.” Wes stalked after him. “Did you hear a word I just told you, mate? Do you know how crazy this is? Are you even listening to me?” The other ignored him, and with a scowl, Wes reached across the desk and slapped the laptop shut.

Riley straightened and turned to glare at the human. In the shadows, his eyes suddenly glowed a dangerous yellow, and the air went tight with the soundless, churning energy that came right before a Shift. Riley’s true form hovered close to the surface, staring out at the human with angry gold eyes.

To his credit, Wes didn’t back down.

“Listen to yourself, Riley.” The human faced the other in the dingy light, his voice solemn. “Listen to what you’re trying to do. This isn’t stealing a hatchling away from Talon. This isn’t walking up to a kid and saying, ‘Oy, mate, your organization is corrupt as hell and if you don’t leave soon you’ll never be free.’” He stabbed a finger at the laptop. “This is a bloody St. George compound. With bloody St. George soldiers. One slipup, one mistake, and you’ll be hanging from some corporal’s wall. Think about what that means, mate.” Wes leaned forward, his gaze intense. “Without you, the underground dies. Without you, all those kids you freed from Talon will be helpless when the organization comes for them. And they will, Riley, you bloody well know they will. Do you even care about that anymore? Do you care that everything we’ve worked for is about to go up in flames?” He gestured sharply at me. “Or has this sodding kid got you so wrapped around her finger that you don’t know what’s important anymore?”

“Hey!” I protested, scowling, but I might as well have shouted at a wall. Riley clenched his fists, nostrils flaring, as if he might punch the human or Shift into his true form and blast him to cinders. Wes continued to glare, chin raised, mouth pressed into a stubborn line. Both of them paid absolutely no attention to me.

“What are we doing, mate?” Wes asked softly, after a moment of brittle silence. “This isn’t our fight. This isn’t what we said we would do.” Riley didn’t answer, and Wes’s tone became almost pleading. “Riley, this is crazy. This is suicide, you know it as well as I do.”

Riley slumped, raking a hand through his messy black hair, the tension leaving his shoulders. “I know,” he growled. “Trust me, I know. I’ve been trying to convince myself I haven’t completely lost my mind since we left town.”

“Then why—”

“Because if I don’t, Ember will go without me and get herself killed!” Riley snapped, and finally looked in my direction. Those piercing gold eyes met mine across the room, the shadow of Riley’s true form staring at me. I shivered as he held my gaze. “Because she doesn’t know St. George like I do,” he went on. “She hasn’t seen what they’re capable of. She doesn’t know what they do to our kind if we’re discovered. I do. And I’m not going to let that happen. Even if I have to sneak into a St. George base and rescue one of the bastards myself.”

I swallowed, feeling something inside me respond, a rush of warmth spreading through my veins. My own dragon, calling to Riley’s, like he was her other half.

Wes scrubbed a hand down his face. “You’re both completely off your rockers,” he muttered, shaking his head. “And I’m no better, since it seems I’m going along with this lunacy.” He groaned and plopped into the chair, then opened the laptop. “Well, since you appear to have lost your mind, let me show you exactly what we’re up against.”

Riley turned from me, breaking eye contact. I knew I should go see what Wes was talking about. But I could still feel the heat of Riley’s gaze, feel the caress of the dragon against my skin. I needed to get away from him to clear my head, to cool the fire surging through my veins. Leaving them to talk, I slipped into the small, only slightly disgusting bathroom and locked the door behind me.

Wes’s and Riley’s voices echoed through the wood, low and urgent, probably talking about the mission. Or, in Wes’s case, trying to convince Riley, once and for all, not to go through with this. I sank onto the toilet seat and ran my hands through my hair, letting the words fade into jumbled background noise.

I knew Wes was right. I knew what I planned to do was stupid and risky as hell. I knew I hadn’t considered all the threats, didn’t realize what I was getting into. What I was planning flew in the face of everything I’d been taught, and if I voiced it out loud, it sounded insane, even to me.

Break into a compound of St. George, the ancient enemy of our race, the Order whose sole mission was to see us extinct, and rescue one of their own. Sneak into a heavily armed base full of soldiers, free a sole prisoner who could be anywhere and get out. Without getting blown to bits in the process.

It sounded crazy. It was crazy. It was downright suicidal, like Wes said. I didn’t fault him, or Riley, for being reluctant. They had no stake in this, no reason to want to undergo a mission that could get us all killed. They had every right to be afraid. If I was being completely honest, it terrified me, too.

But I couldn’t leave him behind.

I went to the sink to splash water on my face but paused when I caught sight of my reflection. A skinny, green-eyed girl stared back at me from the mirror, red hair standing on end, eyes ringed with dust and dark circles. I didn’t look remotely Draconian. I looked tired, and dirty, and very mortal. Nothing fierce or primal lurked inside my gaze to indicate that I was anything more than I seemed.

Was that why he’d hesitated that night on the cliff? When he’d pointed that gun at my head, and I’d finally realized what he really was? When he’d ceased to be Garret and became the enemy, a soldier of St. George?

He could’ve killed me. I’d been in my human form, taken off guard, and had been too stunned to do anything at first. He’d had me at point-blank range, alone and trapped on a bluff miles from anywhere. All he’d had to do was pull the trigger.

But he hadn’t. And later, he’d betrayed his own people to save me and Riley from Lilith, my sadistic trainer and Talon’s best Viper assassin. Lilith had come for Riley that night, and when I’d refused to leave him and return to Talon, she’d tried to kill me, too. She’d nearly succeeded. We’d survived only because of Garret’s unexpected arrival and his help in driving off the Viper. Otherwise, Lilith would’ve torn us apart.

But, by helping us, Garret had damned himself. To aid a dragon was treason in the eyes of his Order, and the punishment for such betrayal was death. He’d told me that himself. Garret had known the Order would kill him, and he’d still chosen to save us.

Why?

I’d tried to follow him that night, hoping to somehow get him away from the soldiers who were now his captors. But there had been no opportunity for a rescue, and Riley had finally convinced me that falling back and planning our next move was the best option. So here we were.

I turned on the sink and splashed cold water on my face, washing away the dust and grime. When that was done, I attempted to tame the snarled bird’s nest atop my head, wincing as I ran my fingers through the knots and tangles, finally combing them out. I had a brush in my backpack, along with a change of clothes and other essentials, but primping seemed like a giant waste of time right now. Besides, who was around that I wanted to impress? Wes hated me, and Riley… Riley was interested in my other half.

My dragon perked at this, sending a curl of warmth through my stomach, and I squashed it, and her, down. I didn’t know what I was going to do about Riley, but there were other things to focus on. Hopefully, Riley and Wes had come up with a brilliant plan, because other than knowing I couldn’t leave Garret with St. George, I didn’t have a clue what to do.

When I came out of the bathroom, Riley and Wes were bent over the laptop, talking in the same low, urgent tones. Riley glanced up, and our eyes met once more, making my skin flush. Then Wes snapped his name, and he turned his attention to the computer again.

Edging up behind them, I peered over Riley’s shoulder at what looked like an aerial map on the screen. The surrounding area seemed barren—desert and dust and flat, open ground—but in the very center of the map sat a cluster of small buildings. No roads led to it; no other buildings or landmarks stood nearby.

“Is that where Garret is?” I asked softly. Wes shot me a dirty look. “That,” he stated, narrowing his eyes, “is St. George’s western chapterhouse, and it took me a bloody long time to find it, thank you very much. It’s not like the Order advertises where they are—technically those buildings don’t exist on any map or sightseeing brochure. But yes, the bastards that tried to kill us in California have likely returned there, your murderous boyfriend included.” He snorted and turned away, and I resisted the urge to slap the back of his head.

“I had no idea it was so close,” Riley muttered, staring intently at the screen, his face grim. “Right on the Arizona/Utah line. I’m going to have to relocate a couple safe houses farther east.”

“There’s nowhere completely safe, mate,” Wes said quietly, slumping back in his chair. “Not since they caught on that Talon moved a lot of its business to the States. They’re bloody everywhere now.”

“Where were they before?” I asked.

“England,” Riley answered without looking at me. “St. George’s main headquarters is in London, where it’s been for hundreds of years. They’re very traditional, and they don’t like change, so it took them a while to spread out. That’s why Talon does a lot of business in the US and other countries—the Order doesn’t have such a strong presence here. Or it didn’t for a long time.” He leaned over the laptop. “This is a fairly new base,” he stated, staring at the tiny white squares on the screen. “It wasn’t here ten years ago.” One finger rose to trace the perimeter, his face shadowed in thought. “There’s the fence, and that’s probably the armory, barracks and mess hall, officer housing…so this big one has to be headquarters.” He tapped the screen, tightening his jaw. “That’s where he’ll probably be.”

“Bloody fabulous,” Wes muttered. “The most heavily guarded building of them all. Tell me again why we’re doing this? If it was a hatchling we were all getting ourselves killed for, I’d understand. I wouldn’t like it, but I’d understand. That’s more your type of loony.” He continued to glower at Riley and ignore me, as if I wasn’t standing not three feet away. Well within singeing distance, I thought. “Even if we do get this blighter out, what makes you think he won’t run straight back to St. George to tell them where we are? Or shoot us in the back himself?”

“He won’t,” I snapped, glaring at Wes. “I know Garret. He’s not like that.”

Wes turned a disgusted sneer in my direction. “Really?” he drawled. “Then answer me this, if you know the blighter so very well—how long did it take you to figure out he was part of St. George?”

I flushed. I’d never guessed the truth, never let myself think Garret could be the enemy, not until he’d aimed a gun at my head, and even then I hadn’t wanted to believe it. Wes gave me a smirk. “Yeah, that’s what I figured. You only think you know him. But the truth of it is he was lying to you that whole time. He would’ve told you anything to get you to reveal yourself, anything you wanted to hear.”

“He saved us from Lilith—”

“He shot at a bloody adult dragon,” Wes interrupted. “Because it was clearly the bigger threat. And when it was over and his squad hadn’t arrived to back him up, he told you what was necessary for him to stay alive. He told you exactly what you wanted to hear.”

“That’s not true!” I remembered Garret’s face that night, the intense way he’d looked at me, the remorse and determination and guilt. I’m done, he’d told me. No more killing. No more deaths. I’m not hunting your people anymore.

Wes snorted. “Leopards can’t change their spots,” he said with maddening self-assurance. “St. George will always hate and kill dragons because that’s what they do. It’s the only thing they know how to do.”

I looked to Riley, standing silently beside the desk, hoping he would back me up. To my dismay, his mouth was pressed into a grim line, his jaw set. My heart sank, even as I turned on him, frowning.

“You agree with him,” I accused, and his eyebrows rose. “You think this is a huge mistake, even though you were there. You heard what Garret said.”

“Firebrand.” Riley gave me a half weary, half angry look. “Yes, of course I agree with him,” he said evenly. “I’ve seen what St. George does, not only in the war, but to all our kind, everywhere. How many safe houses do you think I’ve lost to their cause? How many dragons are murdered by the Order every year? Not just the Vipers or Basilisks or the ones directly involved in the war.” His gaze narrowed. “I’ve seen them slaughter hatchlings, kids younger than you. I once watched a sniper take out an unarmed kid in cold blood. He was on his way to meet me, riding his bike through the park, and the shot came from nowhere. Because I couldn’t get to him in time.” Riley’s eyes flashed gold, the dragon very close to the surface, angry and defiant. “So, no, Firebrand, I’m not completely thrilled with the idea of rescuing one of the Order,” he finished in a near growl. “Any excuse for another of the bastards to die is a good one in my book. And don’t think your human is innocent just because he fought Lilith and let us go. He has dragon blood on his hands just like the rest of them.”

I cringed inside, knowing he was right. But I still raised my chin, staring him down. “I’m not leaving him to die,” I said firmly. “He saved our lives, and I won’t forget that, no matter what you say.” He crossed his arms, and I made a helpless gesture. “But you don’t have to come, Riley. I can do this alone. If you feel that strongly—”

“Firebrand, shut up,” Riley snapped. I blinked, and he gave me a look of supreme exasperation. “Of course I’m coming with you,” he growled. “I told you before, I won’t let you take on St. George alone. I’ll be with you every step of the way, and I’ll do my damnedest to keep us alive, but you can’t expect me to be happy about it.”

I swallowed. “I’ll make it up to you, Riley, I promise.”

Riley sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. “I’ll hold you to that,” he said. “When this is over, I fully expect you to do whatever I say, no hesitation, no questions asked. But first, let’s concentrate on getting through the next twenty-four hours. Come here.” He motioned me forward. “You’ll need to see this, if you’re planning on sneaking into the base with me. You are planning on coming, I assume? No chance of talking you out of it?”

“You know me better than that.”

“Sadly, I do.”

I eased in front of him and gazed down at the screen, suddenly very aware of his presence, his hand on my arm as he peered over my shoulder, the smell of his leather jacket. Wes grumbled under his breath, something that included the words sodding and bollocks, and Riley gave a grim chuckle.

“Yeah,” he muttered, his deep voice close to my ear, making my skin prickle. “Just like old times.”

Cobalt

Twelve years ago

1:18 a.m.

I slipped out the second-story window and dropped silently to the ground. Behind me, the office building remained dark, empty, as I leaned against the cement wall and dug my phone out of my pocket.

“It’s done,” I muttered into the speaker. “Everything is wired to explode. I just need confirmation that the building is empty before I detonate.”

“Roger that” came the voice on the other end. “Building is empty, the only thing left is the security guard outside. You are clear to proceed when ready.”

“Are you sure?” I growled, my voice hard. “I don’t want a repeat of what happened in Dublin. Are you absolutely certain there are no civilians inside?”

“That’s an affirmative. The building is clear. Waiting on your signal.”

“All right.” I stepped away from the wall. “Leaving the premises now. I’ll report in again when it’s done. Cobalt out.”

Lowering the phone, I gazed across the empty parking lot, thinking. It would be easy enough to slip through the fence, cross the street and vanish into the darkness without anyone knowing I was here. In fact, that was what Talon expected, what I was supposed to do. They chose me for these missions because I was damn good at my job—infiltrate a target, steal or plant whatever I was supposed to and get out again. All without being seen or leaving any evidence behind. I was probably the youngest Basilisk to infiltrate Talon’s enemies, and I was here only because the last Basilisk sent out on assignment never returned. But I kept completing missions, and the organization kept sending me on more, regardless of danger, time or my personal feelings. I didn’t know what this particular company had done to earn Talon’s wrath, and I didn’t want to know. Better not to ask questions; it was easier that way. But Talon required me to finish this assignment, and I knew what I had to do now.

Instead, I turned and headed toward the front of the building, following the wall until I found what I was looking for. A pudgy man in a blue-and-black uniform, silver flashlight dangling off his belt, sat in a chair near the front entrance. His arms were crossed, and his large chin rested on his chest as he sat there, eyes closed. I snorted.

Sleeping on the job, Mr. Rent-A-Cop? What would your employers have to say about that?

Bending down, I picked a pebble off the ground, tossed it in one hand and hurled it at the security guard. It struck his forehead and bounced off, and the human jerked up with a snort, nearly falling out of the chair. Flailing his arms, he glared around, then straightened as he spotted me, waiting in the shadows. I grinned at him and waved.

“Hey! Stop right there!”

I laughed and sprinted away as the guard scrambled after me. I jogged across the parking lot, making sure not to run too fast. Didn’t want him to give up the chase just yet. Pulling out my phone, I clicked it on and began dialing a sequence of numbers, the gasping, panting voice of the guard echoing behind me.

“You there! Freeze! I’m warning you…”

Sorry, human. I reached the chain-link fence surrounding the property and leaped for the top, hitting the post and vaulting over with one hand. My thumb hovered over the final button as I walked swiftly away, hearing the guard reach the fence and pause, not bothering to pull himself up. This is going to be a bad night for you. But at least you’ll be alive. That’s the most you can hope for when crossing paths with Talon.

I pressed the button.

A massive fireball rocked the air behind me, blowing out windows, shattering walls, sending pieces of the roof flying as the building erupted in a gout of flame. I felt the blast of energy toss my hair and clothes, and didn’t look back. Crossing the street, I slipped the phone into my pocket and melted into the darkness, leaving the structure burning behind me and one dazed rent-a-cop staring in dumbfounded amazement.

* * *

I reached my hotel room less than an hour later. Stripping out of my black work clothes, I changed quickly, then flipped on the news. The image showed the burned, demolished remains of the building I’d just left, surrounded by people and flashing lights. The words on the bottom of the television read: “Live: Mysterious explosion destroys office complex.” I sank onto the bed, watching grimly as a reporter’s voice filtered from the TV.

“…happened around 1:00 a.m. this morning,” the voice announced, as the image flipped to a bird’s-eye view of the demolished rooftop, gaping holes crumbling into darkness. “Thankfully, all the regular employees were gone, but we are getting reports that the janitorial staff was in the building when it exploded. Rescue teams are on the scene now…”

No. I clenched a fist on my leg, horror and rage flooding my body. Leaping upright, I snatched my phone from the bed, dialed a number and stood there, shaking, until someone picked up.

“Well done, agent,” the voice on the other end greeted. “We saw the reports. Talon will be—”

“What the hell happened?” I snarled, interrupting him. “The building was supposed to be empty! They swore to me it was clear. No one was supposed to be inside.”

A pause. “Talon weighed the information and decided that the assignment would go forward as planned,” the voice said in a stiff, flat tone. “The loss of civilian life is…regrettable, but necessary.”

“Like hell it was! They told me the building was clear.”

“It is not your place to question the organization, agent.” Now the voice sounded angry. “Nor is it your job to know the details. Your job is to obey. You’ve performed as Talon wished, and the mission was a success. This conversation is over.”

The line went dead.

I lowered the phone, seething. Sinking onto the bed again, I stared at the television, watching humans and rescue dogs paw through the smoldering ruins, listening as a reporter interviewed the guard I’d saved. He credited himself with chasing the alleged bomber through the building and across the parking lot and made the pursuit sound much closer than it actually had been. But he did describe me as a young white male with dark hair, dressed all in black, and the police were on the lookout for anyone matching that description. They wouldn’t find me, of course. I didn’t exist in their systems; as far as the humans could tell, I was a ghost. By the time the authorities even got close to this hotel, I’d be on the other side of the country. Back to the war they couldn’t see.

Back to Talon.

I ground my teeth, tempted to hurl the phone at the wall, or maybe the television so that I wouldn’t have to see the aftermath of what I’d caused. Dammit. This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened, but it was the first time Talon had outright lied to me. Before, there had been suspicious happenstance, crossed communications, orders that could’ve been misinterpreted or reasoned away. Not this time. Talon had assured me that building was clear; I would have never pressed that button if it wasn’t.

And they knew it, too.

Sickened, I switched off the TV and flopped back on the bed, dragging my hands down my face. What now? How could I go on like this, knowing Talon would lie, that they would use me and more innocent people would get caught in the cross fire?

I could hear my trainer’s thin, high voice echoing in my head, mocking me. There is no such thing as an “innocent casualty,” agent, it said. This is a war, and people will die. That is the ugly truth of it. A few human deaths should not concern you.

But they did. A lot. Maybe I was the exception; maybe no other dragon in Talon cared if a few janitors were killed because they had been at the wrong place at the wrong time. But I did. And now more people were dead because of me.

My phone vibrated beside me on the quilt. Sitting up, I grabbed it as the screen came to life, showing a new message.

Stop moping, it read, indicating no one but my trainer, the Chief Basilisk himself. Brusque and to the point as always, but somehow finding ways to insult me. A car will be at your location in five minutes. You have a new assignment.

Another mission? So soon? Dammit, I had just barely completed this one, and I was tired. More than tired. Sickened. Numb. Furious. Both with myself and with Talon. I didn’t want to go back. I wanted to lock myself in a room and drink an insane amount of alcohol, until the scene on the news faded out of my mind. I’d be equally happy to stalk into an office and ream someone out, possibly with fire and a lot of cuss words. The last thing I wanted was to be called back for another assignment.

But what else could I do?

Methodically, I rose and began packing my things. Talon’s word was law; the opinions of a juvenile Basilisk agent didn’t concern them. They would send me out on another mission, and they would continue to do so, regardless of what I wanted. But I had the ominous, sneaking suspicion that I was reaching the limit of how far I could be pushed, used, lied to. One word hovered at the back of my mind, constant and terrifying, appearing in my thoughts no matter how hard I tried to shove it back.

Rogue.

Garret

Six hours till dawn.

I lay on my cot with my hands behind my head, staring at the ceiling of my cell, watching the cracks blur and run together. Around me, the jail block was dark, quiet. The only light came from beneath the door to the guard station at the end of the hall, and I was the only prisoner in the room. I’d been given my last meal hours ago—rations and water, as the Order didn’t believe in final requests—and it had been delivered by a cold-faced soldier who had spit “dragonlover” at me before tossing it to the floor. Where it still lay, untouched, near the front of the cell.

Six hours till dawn. Six hours before my cell door would open, and a pair of soldiers would step through, announcing that it was time. I’d be handcuffed, escorted across the training field and taken to the long brick wall facing the rising sun. There would be witnesses, of course. The Perfect Soldier was about to be executed for treason; there would probably be a crowd. Perhaps the entire base would turn out. I wondered if Tristan would be there, and Lieutenant Martin. I didn’t know if they would come; truthfully, I wasn’t certain I wanted them to witness my final moments, as a traitor to the Order. There would be a line of soldiers standing in front of that wall, six of them, all with loaded rifles. I would be taken before them, offered a blindfold, which I would refuse, and then I’d be left standing there alone, facing them all. The countdown would begin.

Ready…

Aim…

Fire!

I shivered, unable to stop myself. I wasn’t afraid to die; I’d prepared myself for death many times before. In the field, before a strike on a nest, or facing down a single dragon—we all knew that, at any moment, we could be killed. Soldiers died; it was a fact of life, one you couldn’t predict or avoid. There was no tactical reason the soldier standing just inches away would take a bullet to the temple and I would be spared. I was alive because I was good at what I did, but sometimes I’d just gotten lucky.

But there was a distinction between cheating death and knowing the exact time it would come for you, down to the last second. And there was a difference between dying in battle and standing there with your hands behind your back, waiting for your former brothers in arms—the very soldiers you had fought with, bled with—to kill you.

Five and a half hours till dawn.

I didn’t regret my choice. I’d meant every word I said in the courtroom. And if it came down to it again, and I stood on that beach with the dragon I was sent to kill, knowing that if I let her go I would die instead… I would still choose to save her.

But I had betrayed my Order, and everything I knew, to side with the enemy. I’d seen fellow soldiers die in front of me, torn apart by claws or blasted with dragonfire. I’d watched squad mates throw themselves in front of bullets or charge into the fray alone, just to give the rest of us an advantage. I knew I deserved death. I’d turned my back on the Order that raised me, the brothers who had died for the cause, to save our greatest foes. I knew I should feel remorse, crushing guilt, for family I’d betrayed.

But lying on my cot, mere hours from my own execution, all I could think of was her. Where was she now? What was she doing? Did she think of me at all, or had I been long forgotten in the flight from Crescent Beach with the rest of her kind? Surely there’d be no reason for a soldier of St. George to cross her mind; she was free, she was with her own, and I was part of the Order. I was still the enemy of her people. Though it made me sick to think of it now, the number that had died by my hand. Ember should hate me. I deserved nothing less.

But I still hoped she thought of me sometimes. And as the minutes of my life continued to slip away, I found myself thinking more and more of the moments we’d shared. Wondering what would’ve happened…had we both been normal. I knew that wishing was wasted energy, and regret changed nothing, but for perhaps the first time in my life, I wished we’d had more time. If I’d known what would happen, I would have spent every moment I could with her. I would have done a lot of things differently, but it was too late now. Ember was gone, and in a few hours, I was going to die. Nothing would change that, but at least her face would be the last thing on my mind before I left this world.

I hope you’re happy, Ember, wherever you are. I hope…you’ll always be free.

Five hours till dawn.

Ember

“Wake up, Firebrand.” Riley’s voice was soft and deep, and my dragon stirred to life at his touch. “It’s 2:00 a.m. Fifteen minutes till go time.”

I lifted my head from the pillow, fighting the grogginess pulling me down. The room was dark; only one lamp had been left on, and outside the sky was black. I hadn’t thought I could sleep, but I must’ve been more exhausted than I’d felt. After the three of us had gone over the plan, Riley had told me once more to get some rest, and I’d drifted off almost as soon as my head touched the pillow.

The plan. I sat up as my heart began an irregular thud in my chest. It was time. This was it. Tonight we were going after Garret.

“Better get dressed,” Riley said, nodding to my backpack on the bed. He had changed, too. No longer in dusty jeans and a white T-shirt beneath his jacket, he now wore a dark shirt that clung to his chest and arms, black jeans, gloves and a belt with several compartments and pouches on the side. At the desk, Wes was garbed in all black, too, a ski cap perched on his head. But he looked sullen and scared, like he’d rather be doing anything else. Riley, looming over me at the edge of the mattress, looked completely in his element, and my heart gave a weird little flip in my chest.

“Come on, Firebrand,” Riley urged as I sat there, blinking at him. “We’re sort of on a time schedule, here. Get your ninja suit on, and let’s go.”

“Right.” Shaking the final cobwebs from my brain, I grabbed the backpack from the corner and hurried to the bathroom. Unzipping the top, I rummaged around until I found what I was looking for and pulled it out.

The sleek black bodysuit unfurled in my hands like a spill of ink, shaking free of wrinkles, creases, everything. It had been a final gift from my trainer when I’d “graduated” basic training and would’ve started my real education. The formfitting suit was specifically tailored for me and would not rip or tear like normal clothes when I Shifted into my true form. The constantly warm, clinging fabric seemed to melt into my skin when I changed, and still covered my body when I turned back, so it was probably the coolest thing I owned.

It was, I’d discovered later, the outfit of the Vipers, Talon’s deadly and notorious assassins, which was what they’d wanted me to become, too. Needless to say, I had issues with hunting down and killing my own kind simply because Talon ordered it. Talon’s rule was absolute, and the Vipers were used to silence dragons who weren’t loyal to the organization. Dragons like Riley who had gone rogue. I couldn’t do it. And because Talon wouldn’t accept no for an answer, I’d gone rogue, too. That was the main reason I’d left the organization. I would not become a Viper like my trainer, Lilith—ruthless and unmerciful, willing to kill without a second thought. I refused to turn into that.

But the suit definitely came in handy.

I slipped into the outfit, shuddering as the fabric sucked at my skin, melding to my body. Yeah, the magic ninja suit was awesome, but the way it felt almost alive was still creepy as hell. After putting on my shoes and shoving my normal clothes into my backpack, I left the bathroom and nearly bumped into Riley on the other side of the door.

He put out his hands to steady me, but quickly pulled them back with a grimace. I frowned in confusion.

“What? Do I smell or something?”

“No,” he muttered, not meeting my gaze. “Sorry. It’s not you, Firebrand, it’s just…” He made a vague gesture at me. “That thing. Brings back fun memories, if you know what I mean.”

I suddenly realized the problem. “I look like a Viper,” I said, and he nodded.

“When you’ve been out of Talon as long as I have, the last thing you want to see is that outfit. Because it usually means you’re fighting or running for your life.”

“I’m a rogue now, too, Riley.”

“I know.” He reached out and brushed the base of my neck. A jolt of heat surged through me from that spot, as his fingers lingered on my skin. Riley’s gold eyes almost glowed in the shadows. “I’m glad you’re here, Firebrand,” he said, his voice low and soft. “I’m glad I won’t have to meet you down the road someday as a Viper. That would kill me, having to fight you.” His mouth twitched in a faint smile. “You have no idea how relieved I am that you left the organization. That you saw Talon for what it really is.”

I swallowed, the warmth spreading through my whole body as the dragon rose to the surface, pushing against my fragile human shell. The Viper suit tightened, flattening to my skin until it felt like I wasn’t wearing anything at all. I could Shift, I realized. Right here in this tiny hotel room. What did I have to lose? No one would see me but Riley and Wes. And then, if I Shifted, Riley would probably change, too. I wanted him to. I wanted to see his true self, his other self, the one who called to my dragon and who peered down at me with gleaming golden eyes.

Cobalt.

Get it together, Ember. I breathed deep to cool my lungs, to calm the fire spreading through me, and tried to grin back. “Yeah, well, I bet you didn’t know what you were getting into,” I said lightly.

“Doesn’t matter.” Riley dropped his arm and stepped back as if he couldn’t bear to touch me anymore. Or perhaps, if he kept touching me, a large blue dragon would suddenly make a very explosive appearance in the middle of the hotel room. “But if we live through this, you owe me, Firebrand. Big-time.” He glanced at Wes, who was packing his laptop into a shoulder bag, his jaw set. “Everyone ready? Once we start, there’s no turning back. Wes?”

“Piss off” was the sullen answer. “Like I have any sort of choice. When you’re killed by St. George, don’t expect me to babysit two dozen bloody hatchlings the rest of my life.”

Riley ignored that. “We’ll take two vehicles until we’re a couple miles from the base. From there, we’ll go the rest of the way on foot. Wes, how close will you need to be to pick up their signal?”

“Bloody too close,” Wes muttered. “But it shouldn’t be hard to find, since they’ll be the only ones within a hundred miles putting one out. The challenge will be jacking in without raising any kind of alarm.”

“If you do have to move closer, don’t go in the van. Last thing we need is for them to see headlights cruising toward them across the desert.”

“Oh, really? Is that what I’ll want to do, then?” Wes zipped his bag ferociously. “Silly me, here I was thinking we needed big neon signs that said Here We Are, Shoot Us Please on top of the roof.”

Riley rolled his eyes but didn’t comment. “ETA at the St. George perimeter will be zero three hundred. Once we’re finished inside, we’ll meet at the rendezvous and get the hell out of Dodge. Ember…” He turned, and his gaze met mine. “You’re with me. Let’s go.”

* * *

The drive to the Arizona/Utah line was silent and mostly empty. Few cars passed us on the long stretch of highway across the Mojave Desert. Overhead, the moon peered down like a sleepy, half-lidded eye, surrounded by a billion stars that stretched on forever. Out here in the desert, many miles from cities or lights or civilization, the sky called to me. I thought of Shifting, of leaping off the bike, changing forms midair and soaring through the empty sky. Annoyed, I pushed all tempting thoughts to the back of my mind, willing my dragon to settle down. In a couple hours, we would be sneaking into a heavily armed base filled with soldiers whose main goal was the complete genocide of our species. There were more important things to focus on than midnight flights in the desert heat.

Garret. I hope you’re okay. Hang in there, we’re coming for you.

It felt like a thousand tiny snakes were writhing in my stomach, and I breathed deep to calm them down. Was the soldier going to be there when we came for him? Was he still alive? What would he say when we finally found him? I would think that a dragon showing up at a St. George base in the middle of the night wasn’t something that happened often, if ever. Would Garret be happy to see me? Would he accept help from a dragon, the creature he’d been trained to kill on sight?

Or would he turn around and alert the rest of the base to our presence, having concluded that dragons were the enemy after all and needed to be destroyed? It had been days since that lonely night on the beach where I’d almost died, attacked by my own trainer. Garret had saved us, but he was also a soldier of the Order. According to Talon doctrine, St. George couldn’t be reasoned with, accepted no compromise and showed no mercy to their enemies. Garret was back with his own people now. What if they’d convinced him that he’d been wrong after all, that dragons were the enemy, and the next time he saw one he’d put a bullet in the back of its skull?

Garret wouldn’t do that, I told myself. He’s different than the rest of them. He saw that we weren’t monsters. And he…he promised me that he was done killing. He wasn’t going to hunt us anymore, that’s what he said.

I had to believe that. I had to believe Garret would keep his promise, that the soldier who’d helped fight off Lilith and let us go was the same person I’d gotten to know over the summer. The boy I’d taught to surf, who’d played arcade games with me, whose smile could make my stomach do tipsy cartwheels. Who had kissed me in the ocean and made all my senses surge to life, who’d made me feel like I wasn’t a dragon or a human, but a strange, light creature somewhere in between. That person was not a soldier of St. George, a cold ruthless killer who hated dragons and slaughtered without mercy. No, when Garret was with me, he was just a boy who, at times, seemed just as uncertain and confused as I was. I’d seen a glimpse of the soldier on the bluff, when he’d pointed a gun at my face, his eyes hard and cold. But even then, he hadn’t pulled the trigger.

Would he pull the trigger now?

I sighed and pressed my cheek to Riley’s back, trying to stop my brain from looping in endless circles. Rescue Garret first. That was the looming issue at the moment, the thing I had to focus on right now. We could deal with everything else after we were clear of St. George.

Riley made a sharp left turn, pulled off the highway and headed into the desert. Startled, I tightened my arms around his waist, and we sped between rocks and cacti, following the van ahead of us. Abruptly, Riley flipped off the lights, as did the van, and we traveled in darkness for a while, only the faint light of the moon guiding the way. Finally, the van slowed and pulled behind a shallow rise, skidding to a halt in a billowing cloud of dust. Riley swerved, cruising beside it, and killed the engine.

Heart pounding, I sat up as the absolute silence of the desert descended on us like a glass dome. Except for my own breathing and the soft creak of the motorcycle, the complete absence of noise was chilling, and my dragon bristled. I didn’t like it. It reminded me of my old school in the middle of the Great Basin, the place my brother and I had spent the majority of our lives, learning how to be human. Surrounded by desert, open sky and a whole lot of nothing. You could go outside and stand for hours in the same spot, the sun blazing down on you, and your ears would start to throb from the eternal, looming silence. I’d hated it. Sometimes, it had felt like the silence was trying to steal my voice; that if I went too long without making any noise, I’d become as still and lifeless as the desert around me. Dante had never understood why I was always so restless.

Dante. A lump rose to my throat as I clambered off the motorcycle, and I forced my thoughts away from him. One problem at a time.

“Still up for this, Firebrand?” Riley whispered, jolting me out of my dark musings. With a mental shake, I nodded as my heart resumed its painful thud against my ribs. Riley gazed at me, then turned and pointed across the desert to where a scattering of distant lights winked at us in the darkness.

“That’s the base,” he said quietly as I stared at the glimmers marking our objective. Garret was somewhere behind those walls, and with any luck, we’d get to him and be long gone before anyone from St. George knew we were there. “We’re about two miles away,” Riley went on, “but we can’t risk driving any closer and having them see us. Stealth is our only chance to pull this off. From here, we walk.”

Wes slipped out of the van, ski cap pulled low over his head, and stalked around the vehicle to yank open the back doors. Riley joined him and dragged a black duffel bag out from under the seat. My heart lurched as Riley casually pulled out a small black pistol, checked the chamber for rounds and holstered it to his belt with easy familiarity.

I swallowed at the sight of the gun. “Riley?” I ventured, suddenly terrified and angry about being terrified. “Tell me the truth,” I said as he glanced over. “And don’t think for a minute that I’m backing out, but…how dangerous is this really going to be?”

Wes snorted. “Oh, sure, now she asks. On bloody St. George’s doorstep.”

Riley sighed. “Truth, Firebrand? I wouldn’t agree to do this if it was complete suicide,” he said, holding my gaze. I blinked at him, surprised, and he gave a weary smile. “Wes might preach doom and gloom, but trust me when I say I know what I’m doing. We’ll be going in when most of the base will be asleep. This particular chapterhouse is extremely remote and well hidden; they’re using isolation to deter unwanted guests, so security should be minimal. If no one knows where you are, why bother with a ton of guards and patrols? And trust me, two dragons sneaking into a St. George compound doesn’t happen often, if ever.

“But,” he went on as I relaxed a bit, “that doesn’t mean it won’t be dangerous. These types of missions usually go one of two ways: without a hitch, or spectacularly wrong. Hopefully, we’ll be able to sneak in, find what we want and tiptoe away without anyone knowing we were there. That’s the best-case scenario. I think you can guess the worst-case scenario. So, on that note…” He held out a pistol to me. “Ever shot one of these?”

Numbly, I shook my head. I’d handled a gun before, both in my training with Lilith and then briefly when I’d disarmed the Glock aimed at my face, but I’d never fired one. Certainly not at a living creature.

Riley smiled grimly. “If it gets to the point where we’re shooting at people, then the mission is FUBAR and we need to get out of there as fast as we can.” He held up the weapon. “These are only to be used as the very last resort. But if the mission does go south, you’re going to want something to defend yourself with. The problem with claws and teeth is that you have to get in close to attack, and that might be tricky if they’re all firing M-16s at you.”

“I’ve never fired a gun before, Riley. I don’t even know if I could…shoot someone. Not for real. I’ve never killed anyone before.”

Riley’s lip curled in a hard smile. “Yeah, well, you’re gonna have to get over that, Firebrand,” he stated bluntly. “We might not be part of Talon anymore, but St. George doesn’t give a damn about that little fact. To them, all dragons are the same. Rogue, hatchling or Viper, it makes no difference to the Order. They’ll kill us regardless of faction or sympathies.” He lowered the gun, his gaze almost accusing. “This is still a war, but we aren’t just fighting one side anymore. Not only do we have to be on the lookout for St. George—Talon will be breathing down our necks, as well. We kind of got the shit end of both sticks, if you haven’t noticed by now.”

I blinked, stunned. I’d never heard Riley sound so bitter. Although, ever since we’d left Crescent Beach, he’d seemed…different. More serious and take-charge. This was not the cocky, insufferable, devil-may-care rogue I’d met before. He was not the mysterious lone rebel I’d thought he was, but the leader of an entire rogue underground, with who knew how many dragons and humans depending on him. I suspected now that the dragon I’d met in Crescent Beach had been putting on a show, a mask, the perfect identity for the current situation. I wondered, yet again, if the Riley I faced now was the real one.

At my silence, Riley gave me a weary, sympathetic look, his voice going softer.

“Sorry, Firebrand. I didn’t mean to jump down your throat like that. I know you’ve never killed anyone, and I don’t expect you to. Not tonight, anyway.” He sighed and raked his hair back. “I’ve just…seen a lot, you understand? From Talon and St. George. I’ve lost friends and hatchlings to both organizations, and some days it feels like I’m pushing a boulder up a never-ending cliff, and if I let up for one second, it’ll roll back and crush me.” His brow furrowed and his eyes darkened as he looked away. “One day it will roll back and crush me.”

His gaze flicked back to mine. “What I’m trying to say is, if you’re going to stand against Talon, you have to do whatever it takes to stay alive. And one day, that might involve shooting someone. Or incinerating them. Or tearing them apart. Yeah, it’s ugly, it’s messy and it’s not fair, but that’s the truth of it. This is our world, Firebrand. This is the world you live in now.” He held the gun out to me once more. “Unless you want to go back.”

I swallowed. “No,” I said, and reached out for the weapon, curling my fingers around the hard metal. “I’m not going back.” Riley tossed me a holster as well, and I slipped it around my shoulder, feeling the weight of the gun, cold and deadly, against my ribs. I hoped I would never have to use it.

“All right.” Riley shut the van and looked toward the distant base. I saw him take a short, furtive breath, as if steeling himself for what was to come. “I think we’re about ready. Just remember…” He shot a firm glare in my direction. “We do this my way. If I tell you to do something, don’t question it. Don’t even think about it. Just do it, understand?”

I nodded. Riley glanced at Wes, who watched him with the grave, resigned expression of someone who thought they might never see him again. “We’re going. If I give the word, get out and don’t look back. Wish us luck.”

“Luck?” Wes muttered, shaking his head. “You don’t need luck. You need a bloody miracle.”

And on that inspiring note, we started across the desert.

Riley

One mile to the gates of hell.

I shoved the thought away as I led Ember across the dusty plains, heading closer to that ominous glow looming ahead of us. Fear and second thoughts were dangerous now. This insane rescue was officially under way, and I had to focus on what was important; namely, getting us in and out without being discovered and gunned down. When I was a Basilisk, I’d been taught never to ask questions or think too hard about what I was doing. I didn’t need to know the whys, I just needed to complete the missions.

Of course, it was when I’d started asking questions that I’d realized I couldn’t be part of Talon anymore.

Ember walked behind me, silent in her black Viper’s outfit, gliding over the sand like a shadow. She made no noise, moving like a Basilisk herself, graceful and sure without even realizing it. Lilith had taught her well. The only thing she hadn’t taught her was the Vipers’ ruthlessness, that apathy toward killing that Vipers were known—and feared—for. I was glad of it, but at the same time, I knew it wouldn’t last. Not in our world. There was too much at stake. Too many factions that wanted us dead, too many people to try to protect. Eventually, the day would come when Ember would have to kill someone and when it did, she would have to make a choice as to what kind of dragon, and person, she really was. I just hoped it wouldn’t change her too drastically.

“You’re about two hundred yards from the fence.” Wes’s voice buzzed in my ear, courtesy of the wire I was wearing. Part of the package I’d picked up in L.A. “No security cameras as far as I can tell, but be careful.”

“Got it.”

We reached the perimeter fence, nothing heavy duty or unusual, just simple chain link topped with barbed wire. Signs reading Private Property and Trespassers Will Be Prosecuted hung from the links every thirty or so feet, but there was nothing to indicate that a heavily armed military compound lay beyond. St. George was nearly as good as Talon when it came to hiding in plain sight, as private armies were sort of frowned on by the United States government. The bases where the soldiers were housed used isolation and misdirection to stay off the radar of those that might take issue with a large number of armed fanatics squatting on US soil.

Good news for us: this base was counting on its remoteness to deter unwanted visitors, so the fence wasn’t well patrolled. Bad news for us: if they did start shooting, no one would ever hear it.

Ember crouched beside me, peering through the barrier. We’d approached the base from the north, giving the fence a wide berth as we circled around, and I could see a cluster of squat buildings about a thousand yards beyond the fence. The space between was dark and shadowy, but terrifyingly flat and open.

No turning back now.

Pulling out my wire cutters, I began snipping through the links, silent and methodical. Oddly enough, the familiar task helped calm my nerves; how many times had I done this before? Ember pressed close, her shoulder brushing mine, and my pulse leaped at the contact, but I didn’t stop until I’d cut a line just big enough for us to slip through.

“Stay close,” I murmured, replacing the cutters. “Remember, don’t do anything until I give the word.”

She nodded. Reaching down, I peeled back the steel curtain, motioned her through, then slipped in behind her. As we passed through, the fence gave a soft, metallic slither, echoing the chill running up my spine.

Okay, here we were, on St. George soil. Still in a crouch, I scanned the layout of the base, noting buildings, lights, how far the shadows extended. Ember waited beside me, patient and motionless, green eyes shining with resolve. I sensed no fear from her, only stubborn determination, a will to see this through no matter what, and squashed the flicker of both dread and pride.

“We’re in,” I whispered to Wes.

“All right.” I imagined furious typing on the other end. “Hang on, I’m trying to find the security system…there we go.” More silence followed, as Ember and I huddled at the fence line, gazing around warily. “Okay,” Wes muttered at last. “Looks like only headquarters and the armory actually have cameras. So you’re going to have to get inside before I can walk you through.”

“Got it,” I muttered back. “I’ll let you know when we’re in. Riley out.”

Staying low, we scurried across the open ground toward the buildings, keeping to where the shadows were thickest. It being the very dead of night, the compound was quiet; most soldiers were asleep, probably having to be up in a couple hours. I did spot a couple guards near the perimeter gate, but other than that the yard was deserted.

“It’s so quiet,” Ember whispered as we crouched behind a Hummer, maybe a hundred yards from the first set of buildings. “Just like you said. That’s a good thing, right?”

“Yeah, but let’s not get cocky.” I nodded at the roof of the largest structure, straight ahead behind a clump of smaller buildings. “If this isn’t exciting enough for you, wait till we get inside. All it takes is for one alarm to go off, and the entire base will swarm out like we poked a stick down an ant nest. So stay on your toes, Firebrand. We’re not out of here yet.”

Her eyes flashed, but she nodded. We continued across the yard in silence, even more wary for hidden dangers and sudden patrols. The base remained quiet and still, but I stayed on high alert. Ember might think this was a walk in the park, but I knew how quickly things could turn. And if they did turn, our chances of getting out were slim to zilch.

As we drew close to the first row of buildings, creeping along the outer wall, the door in front of us swung open. Biting back a curse, I dived behind a corner, pressing myself against the wall, as Ember did the same. I felt the heat of her body against mine and squashed the impatient riling of my dragon as a pair humans paused at the bottom of the steps, talking in low, rough voices.

“Damn kitchen duty,” one growled, sounding sullen. “Of course, I’d have to pull it today. You going to the execution?”

“I dunno,” the other replied as Ember stiffened beside me. “It seems…kinda wrong, you know? I saw him in the South American raid, when he charged that damn adult lizard by himself. Kid’s completely fearless.”

“He’s a dragonlover.” The other soldier’s voice was cutting. “Did you not hear what he said at his trial? I personally can’t wait to see his guts sprayed all over the ground. Better than he deserves, if you ask me.”

They walked on, arguing now, their voices fading into the darkness. When they were gone, I blew out a quiet breath, slumping against the wall, then glanced at Ember.

Her face was white with horror and rage, her eyes glowing a bright, furious emerald in the shadows. Like she might Shift, here and now, and tear those two soldiers to pieces. Quickly, I put a hand on her arm, feeling it shake under my fingers, and leaned close. “Easy, Firebrand,” I whispered as my dragon tried pushing its way to the surface again. I shoved it back. “This is why we’re here. He’s not dead yet.”

Though that was the confirmation I needed. They were going to execute the soldier today, probably as soon as it was light outside. Not that I cared—I’d be more than happy if another St. George bastard kicked it—but that didn’t give us a lot of time to work with. If we were going to get him out, it had to be now. But Ember’s reaction to the news sent a flare of anger through my veins. Why did she care about this kid so much? He was just a human and, more important, he was St. George. I remembered the way she’d looked at him, the way she had danced with him, and my anger grew. Ember was a dragon; she had no business getting involved with a human. Once we rescued this bastard and were far enough from St. George that I could breathe again, I would show her exactly what it meant to be a dragon.

Ember took a deep breath and nodded. Carefully, we eased around the buildings, hugging the walls and shadows, inching steadily toward the large, two-story building near the center. We avoided the brightly lit front, of course, sidling along the back wall until we reached a small metal door.

Ember started forward, but I grabbed her arm, motioning to the camera mounted over the steps. We shrank back into the shadows again as I spoke into the mic. “Wes, we’re at the back door of the main building. No guards, but there is a camera up top and it looks like you need a key card to get in.”

“Hang on.” Wes fell silent while Ember and I pressed against the wall and waited. “Okay,” he muttered after a few seconds. “Just give me a minute to see if I can turn it off.”

As he was talking, a body suddenly came around the corner. A human, wearing normal clothes, his dark hair buzzed close. He jerked, startled, and for a split second the three of us gaped at each other in shock, before his muscles tensed, mouth opening to shout a warning.

And Ember lunged in, a black blur across my vision, hitting the soldier in the jaw right below the ear. The human’s head snapped to the side, and he collapsed as if all his bones had turned into string, sprawling facedown in the sand.

I breathed in slowly, as Ember blinked and stared wide-eyed at the fallen soldier, as if she couldn’t believe what she’d just done, either. My arms were shaking, adrenaline coursing through my veins. It had happened so quickly; I hadn’t even had time to move before the soldier was unconscious. And my reflexes weren’t slow by any means.

“Firebrand,” I breathed, and she looked at me, almost frightened. “That was…impressive. Where did you learn that?”

“I don’t know.” She backed away from the body, as if afraid she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from doing something else. “I just… I saw him and…” Her eyes darkened, and she shook her head. “I don’t even remember what I did.”

Lilith’s training. This was what the Vipers taught their students—how to be fast, how to be quick and lethal, and to strike without thinking. To recognize a threat and take it out. Immediately.

“Riley.” Wes’s voice crackled in my ear, wary and anxious. “You okay? What’s going on?”

I shook myself. “Nothing,” I told him, moving toward the fallen soldier. Ember had had to silence him, no question, but we still had to deal with him. Last thing we needed was for him to wake up and alert the rest of the base. “Small problem. It’s been dealt with,” I continued, kneeling beside the human and reaching into a compartment on my belt. “How’s the unlocking the door part coming along?”

“What are you doing, Riley?” Ember asked suddenly, watching me with wary green eyes. “You…you’re not going to kill him, are you?”

I shook my head, showing her the plastic zip ties I pulled from my belt, though I found it a little ironic. Had Ember been a full Viper, I doubted this human would be alive. And I wasn’t going to snap his neck or slit his throat while he lay there, helpless. Even though I hated the bastards, and would gladly blast him to cinders if I had to, I wasn’t a killer. Not like them.

Wes’s voice continued to buzz in my ear. “I can get the door open,” he said as I pulled the soldier’s arms behind him and zip-tied his wrists together. “But if I start blacking out cameras, they might get suspicious. Best I can give you is a thirty-second feedback loop, but you’ll have to get inside before the feed goes normal again. Think you can do that?”

I gagged the human with the roll of duct tape in my belt, then heaved the unconscious body over my shoulder. He hung like a sack of potatoes—a heavy, well-muscled sack of potatoes. “Do it,” I grunted, staggering toward a Dumpster we’d crouched behind a moment ago. “Just give us fifteen seconds. Ember, get the cover, will you?”

She scurried to the Dumpster and pushed up the lid, releasing the stench of old milk, rotting things and decay. I probably shouldn’t have felt so spitefully pleased as I dropped the body between reeking sacks of garbage and closed the top, but I did.

At the bottom of the steps, we hung back in the shadows, watching the door and the camera up top. “Gimme a moment,” Wes muttered as I drummed my fingers against my knee, feeling highly exposed. Another soldier could come waltzing around the corner anytime. We might’ve gotten lucky once; twice would be pushing it. “All right,” Wes finally said. “In ten seconds, the camera will go off and the door will unlock. Both will happen almost simultaneously, so you’ll have to get up there fast. Ready?”

“Yeah,” I muttered, feeling Ember tense beside me.

“Then…go! Now!”

I burst forward and raced up the steps, not daring to look at the camera peering down at me with its soulless black eye. My fingers closed on the handle just as there was a soft beep, and the light above the key-card slit turned green. Wrenching open the door, I motioned Ember inside, then ducked over the threshold myself. The door closed, shutting behind us with a soft click that seemed to echo down the long, brightly lit corridor ahead.

We were inside St. George HQ.

Now the real fun began.

Ember

I should probably be terrified.

I was pretty nervous. I was inside the St. George complex, surrounded by a whole army of dragonslayers who’d kill me without a second thought if they knew I was here. We still had to find Garret and somehow sneak him out without being discovered. And that close call with the soldier…my nerves were still singing, my hands shaking with adrenaline. I hadn’t even thought. I’d just seen him and…boom, he was on the ground. Would I do that again? Could I do that again, if I had to?

Was this what my trainer meant when she said I’d be an amazing Viper?

I pushed those thoughts away. Focus, Ember. Find Garret. That’s why we’re here.

“Where to now?” I whispered to Riley.

He huddled against the wall, speaking softly into his wire. “Wes, we’re in.” A few seconds passed with Riley listening to whatever the human was saying. Finally, he nodded. “Right,” he muttered. “Heading there now.”

“Did he find Garret?” I asked.

“No,” Riley answered, making my heart sink. “But he’s jacked into the security system and says that there’s a prison floor somewhere below us. If your human is scheduled for execution in a couple hours, that’s where he’s going to be.” Riley cast a wary look down the corridor. “There are still guards wandering about. Be careful.”

I nodded, and we started down the hall, which at this time of night was empty and deserted, but way too bright for comfort. Doors lined the corridor, most of them closed, but a few sat open, showing office-type rooms with desks and computers. I wondered what the soldiers and officers of St. George did when they weren’t killing dragons. It was hard to picture them doing normal things like checking email and IMing with friends.

As I passed yet another office door, a glint of metallic red caught my eye. And, for some reason, the hairs on the back of my neck stood straight up. I paused just outside the door and peeked in, letting my eyes adjust to the dim light. At first glance, it seemed like just another office, with standard office furniture: chairs, metal cabinet, giant desk in the center. Nothing strange or out of place…until I saw where that faint glimmer was coming from. For a second, I frowned, not knowing what I was looking at.

Then it hit me like a punch to the stomach, and bile surged up my throat, burning the inside of my mouth. I was frozen, unable to look away, unable to do anything but stare at what lay through the door.

On the wall above the desk, spanning nearly corner to corner, hung the hide of a small red dragon. I could see the long elegant neck, the lighter belly scales, the curved black talons still attached to the feet. Its scales were a darker red than mine, almost rust colored, and it had thin stripes down its back and tail. From its size, it had been a hatchling at the time of its death, my age or younger. At one time, this lifeless skin had been a dragon, just like me. And now…now it was a trophy decorating someone’s office.

I think I made a choked, strangled noise, because Riley was suddenly at my side, pulling me away. “Shit,” I heard him growl, almost yanking me from the door. “Don’t look, Firebrand. Don’t look at it. Come here.”

I was shaking. Riley dragged me into the hall and pulled me to him, holding me close. I buried my face in his shirt and squeezed my eyes shut, but I couldn’t forget the horrible image seared into my brain. I could still see that limp, empty skin hanging on the wall, and I knew it would probably show up in my dreams.

Riley’s arms were around me, a shield between me and the rest of the world, a world that slaughtered teen dragons and nailed their hides to the wall. “You okay?” he whispered, his head bent close to mine. I wasn’t, but I nodded without looking up, and he blew out a breath. “Damn St. George,” he muttered, and his voice was slightly choked, too. “Murdering bastards. Damn them all.”

“I’m…okay,” I whispered, though I really, really wasn’t. It was like something out of a horror movie, seeing someone’s skin nailed to the killer’s wall. I wondered what they’d done with the rest of the dragon once they’d peeled its hide away, then immediately wished I hadn’t. “It’s all right,” I managed, drawing back, though his grip didn’t loosen. “Riley, I’m fine. It’s…”

A door squeaked somewhere in the mazelike hallway. We tensed as footsteps echoed down the corridor, growing louder every second. Riley jerked up with a whispered curse. As the steps drew closer, we gazed frantically around for a hiding place, but, other than the open door behind us, there was nothing.

Sorry, Firebrand, Riley mouthed, and yanked me into the room with the dead dragon. I bit my cheek, feeling tainted, as if the ghost of the murdered dragon lurked in the room with us, and I might glance up to see a pale, bloody figure watching accusingly from the wall.

Pressing into the corner beside the file cabinets, we held our breath as the footsteps came toward the room. I turned my face into Riley’s arm and clenched my jaw, trying not to look at the grisly symbol of death on the wall in front of us.

The footsteps passed the room without slowing down and continued down the corridor. Riley waited a long moment after they had faded away and silence fell once more, before finally leading us from the room. I kept my face down and my eyes half closed until we were out of the office, but I could still feel the dead dragon’s presence at my back.

“Damn St. George,” Riley hissed again, sounding almost as sick as I felt. “Depraved, murdering… Ugh. I’m sorry you had to see that, Firebrand.” He put a hand on my arm, steady and comforting. “Sure you want to keep going?” he asked. “It’s not too late to turn around. Do we keep looking for the human, or get the hell out of here?”

Frowning, I pulled back to look at him. He gazed back grimly. “This is the true face of St. George, Ember,” he said, and his voice was almost a challenge. “This is what they do. What they all do.” He nodded to the room behind us. “How many times do you think your soldier saw that hide hanging on the wall and thought nothing of it? It was just a skin, a trophy, not a living creature with thoughts and fears and dreams, like everyone else.” His eyes narrowed. “We’re not people to them, Firebrand. They don’t see us as anything but monsters. And I know you don’t want to hear it, but your human was raised to think exactly like them. He saw you in the same way he did that hide on the wall.”

I shuddered, remembering the skin, tacked onto the wall in plain sight, and for a moment, my resolve wavered. Was I making a mistake? Was it really possible for someone to change his entire perspective? Garret had grown up in St. George, where these awful tokens of death and murder were considered trophies. Decorations to hang in someone’s office, like a stag head or a tiger pelt. Because to St. George, we were monsters. Animals. What if Garret still thought like that?

What if he doesn’t?

I swallowed hard. Regardless of what Garret believed, I couldn’t leave him. If I didn’t get him out tonight, he would die. Even if he saw me as a monster, I wouldn’t abandon him now.

“No,” I told Riley, turning from the office door and the horrible trophy hanging within. “We don’t stop. We keep looking. I’m not leaving him to die.”

Riley shook his head. “Stubborn idiot hatchling,” he muttered, though one corner of his mouth curled up. “All right, we keep going. Wes, you there?” A pause, and Riley rolled his eyes. “Yeah, she did. Of course not, have you met her? How far are we from the stairs?”

We crept through several more hallways, passing more darkened rooms and offices that I was careful not to peek into, until we came to a door that opened onto a stairwell. Here, Riley stopped us, saying there was a camera on the other side, and we had to wait until Wes shut it down. Once he did, I darted through the frame and started down the cement stairs, feeling Riley close at my back. The steps didn’t take us far; just one loop around to an identical metal door, which we pushed through and stepped into yet another hallway.

At the end of the hall stood a door, lonely and unguarded. There were no cameras or humans around, but Riley grabbed my arm when I started forward, pulling us to a stop a few feet from the end of the corridor.

“Got it,” he muttered, speaking to Wes, I figured, and turned to me, his face grave.

“What’s wrong?” I whispered. “Is Garret not here?”

“Oh, he’s here, Firebrand,” Riley said, his voice matching the look on his face. “Wes confirmed it on the security feed. But he’s not the only one.” He nodded to the door. “That’s a guard room. You need to pass through it to get to the jail block beyond. One problem, though. Guard rooms tend to be guarded.”

My skin prickled. “How many?” I asked.

“Two.” His expression darkened. “Both armed. They won’t be expecting us, but we’re going to have to be fast if we want to take them out before they sound the alarm. Think you can pull off another crazy ninja Viper attack? We’re not going to get another shot at this. Once I open that door, there’s really no going back.”

My stomach dropped. After a moment, I took a deep breath, steeling myself. Whatever it took, I would find Garret. Even though these new instincts freaked me out. Even though I wanted nothing more than to be done with this place, with its armed humans and dead dragons hanging on the walls. We were almost to the soldier; his life depended on us reaching him, and I wouldn’t let anything stop me now.

I glanced at Riley and nodded. “I’m ready. Let’s do this.”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.