Destiny Kills

I dried off quickly, then wrapped the towel around my body and headed out.

He looked up as I entered the main room, his cool blue gaze sweeping the length of me before coming back to rest on mine. He held out the mug of coffee and said, “I’ve made some toast, or there’s some cereal if you want it.”

I accepted the coffee and took a sip. Its taste was more bitter than I liked, but compared to the muck the scientists used to give us, anything short of mud would have tasted divine. And as the thought ran through my mind, an image rose. A cherub-cheeked man with a cheerful smile and blue eyes bringing us coffee. The same cherub-cheeked man holding a gun to Egan’s forehead. The cold light in his eyes as he threatened to press the trigger unless I dropped the gun I was holding. The splatter of his brains across the wall as I fired the weapon rather than release it.

“Destiny?”

I blinked, but the image of the blood and bone and brain matter seeping down the wall remained frozen in my thoughts, and suddenly I was shaking in cold and horror.

A hand grabbed mine and pried the coffee cup from my fingers. Then his arms engulfed me, pulling me close. And it felt good, safe, and gradually the shaking and the image subsided.

“What just happened?” he said, after a while.

I took a deep, shuddery breath, then said, “You remember asking me when we first met if I’d killed someone?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I have.”

“We both have, Destiny. But with good reasons, I’m sure.”

“You mean you’ve killed someone other than those men at the house?” I pulled back, and let my gaze search his. Darkness lay below the brightness. Darkness and old anger. “I thought you said that you hadn’t?”

“I never actually answered the question.” He shrugged. “I didn’t want to scare you off.”

I laughed. “After almost running me over?”

He raised a hand and placed it over his heart. “I swear, the only reason that almost happened was your beauty. It had me entranced.”

I snorted. “This from the man who called me less than appealing?”

“Well, that was true at the time, too.”

“You have such a charming way with compliments.” I picked up my coffee and took a sip. My hands were still a little shaky, but nowhere near as bad as they had been. “Tell me about the other person you killed.”

The amusement died from his eyes. “Egan and I went after the men my father contracted to kill Sila.”

“So he didn’t actually do the deed himself?”

“No. But the intent was there, which was why Egan arranged for the ring to be stolen.”

“And that was the last time you saw him?”

He nodded. “He knew he had to disappear for a while, because our father would not stop until the ring was found and the thief was caught and killed.”

“So your father didn’t know Egan was behind the ring’s theft?”

“No. He thought he was pissed off and sulking. He’d been away from the clique for over a week when it was snatched.”

“Who did Egan hire to snatch the ring?”

“A will-o’-the-wisp.”

I blinked. “He hired a malevolent spirit?”

“They aren’t spirits, and they certainly aren’t malevolent. More mischievous. They’ve gotten something of a bad rap over the years.”

“The habit of leading travelers to their doom will do that.”

He laughed. The warm sound sent delicious shivers down my spine. “Just like air dragons consuming virgins and sea dragons attacking boats have given us a bad name?”

He had a point. “So how did he go about hiring this will-o’-the-wisp?”

“I’ve actually known her for a while—we protected each other’s backs while learning the trade together, and she owed me a favor.” He shrugged. “She made sure she was briefly seen, so that no suspicion could fall on Egan or me.”

“Then if no suspicion fell on you or Egan, why is your father basically blackmailing you into finding the ring?”

“Because I need the information he holds, as I said before.” He shrugged. “Tell about the man you killed. What did he do?”

“He gave us coffee.”

He laughed, but the amusement touching his lips faded as his gaze searched mine. “Seriously?”

I nodded. “He was one of the men responsible for bringing us food and coffee. He was on the evening shift.”

“And the coffee was so bad that you had to shoot him?”

His words were light, but his gaze was not. He was studying me, judging me, as so many had judged me over the years. Only Egan had really seen beneath the surface, and yet even Egan had never really known the true me.

Sometimes I wondered if even I could make that claim. Because after years of hiding things I could do, pretending to be what I wasn’t, the line between who I was and who I wasn’t had begun to blur.

“I shot him because he was holding a gun to Egan’s head and threatening to kill him.” I hesitated, and dredged up a smile from somewhere. “Though, trust me, the coffee there seriously sucked.”

“Where did this happen?”

I rubbed my free hand across my eyes. “At the loch. Just after we’d started the fire.”

“So you shooting the man was what set off the alarm?”

I shook my head. “The fire set off the alarm. He was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. We ran after I shot him, but by then it was almost too late, because the fire had spread faster than we’d expected.”

“Until Egan controlled it enough to get you out.”

Again I nodded. “I didn’t know you dragons could do that when in human form.” Certainly I’d never seen Dad do it, but then, he was always too aware of the need to appear human to everyone who lived around us. Even when we were safe at home, he rarely played with the fires that were his heritage. Yet, at the same time, he’d always made sure that I knew—and could control—every skill that came with me being a sea dragon.

Of course, I was only half sea dragon, so it was entirely possible I might have inherited some skills from my father. Certainly I warmed with the sun, whereas most sea dragons remained a little cool. But I’d never been able to raise fire, and had never attained an air dragon’s shape.

Not that I’d ever really tried, because for as long as I could remember, Dad had discouraged such explorations. Better to be a sea dragon, he’d once said, than to be one of the hunted and the butchered. He’d never really explained that remark, but I’d figured it was connected to the horrible scars on his body. They’d always frightened me enough not to explore the other half of my nature.

“Full air dragons can control fire in either form, as long as there’s a slither of daylight around.” Trae’s smile was thin, filled with an amusement that was cold and hateful. “It’s me that shouldn’t be able to do it.”

“If they’re so worried about draman inheriting dragon skills, why don’t they simply stop mating with humans? I mean, if they want to run under human radar, it’s a bit stupid having humans around the cliques anyway, isn’t it?”

“Someone has to do the menial work,” he said dryly. “You don’t think the oh-so-superior ones are going to lift a finger to clean something, do you?”

I raised my eyebrows at the sarcasm. “Egan wasn’t like that.”

“Most of the younger generation aren’t. It’s the older ones.”

“So can all draman change shape and create fire?”

He shook his head. “No. My sister, for instance, can’t shift shape, but she can control fire—and she can control it at night, which is something even full bloods can’t do.”