Page 19 of Lost

Hard and flat, Dragon’s gaze went back to Kevin. “Then I am sorry for the pain his death will cause you.”

“Dragon, you must listen to me. If you don’t, if you slaughter without thought, how are you different than Neferet and her army of red monsters?”

Dragon Lankford paused long enough to glance sadly at Sylvia again. “I do not blame you for leading him here. You are clearly under his influence. You will forgive me when you are yourself once more.”

Kevin’s sight, which was preternaturally sharp, caught the cues an instant before Dragon struck. All Kevin could imagine was what that razor-like longsword could do to his little old grandma. He moved with blurring speed as Dragon lunged, grabbing his spider stick and deflecting the sword while he hurled himself in front of her. Knocked to the side, the blow that was meant to sever his head from his neck streaked across his back from shoulder to shoulder.

At first, he didn’t feel any pain—just a tug and the sudden heat of his blood gushing down his back.

Grandma Redbird screamed and fell forward across Kevin’s body, blocking Dragon’s next, fatal blow.

“Sylvia! Move away from him!” Dragon ordered.

“Smell his blood!” shouted Sylvia. “Smell it, Dragon! His isn’t like the rest of the red vampyres!” Pressed against her grandson’s bleeding body, Sylvia’s anger was almost palpable. “You will have to kill me to get to him!”

“Bryan, wait.”

Through a haze of shock, Kevin watched a woman step to the Swordmaster’s side and gently touch his arm. Her beauty was ethereal, making her look like one of the ancient fey. Kevin thought her long blond hair seemed to hold a light of its own. And a huge raven perched serenely on her shoulder.

“My love, our friend Sylvia is correct. This boy’s blood does not smell of death.”

That had Dragon’s sword wavering. The Warrior drew a deep breath, and his eyes widened. He moved forward, easily plucking Grandma Redbird away from Kevin and depositing her on the side of the path near the raven woman, before Dragon pressed the sword against Kevin’s neck.

“Is this dark magick? Has the Red Army learned to cloak their scent?” Dragon demanded.

“No,” Kevin gasped, trying to speak through the pain blazing across his back. “Not dark magick—love. Nyx interceded and returned my humanity. Please don’t hurt my grandma.”

And then the ethereal beauty was there. Easily brushing aside the killer sword, she touched Kevin’s face, smiling sweetly at him, and he realized who the beauty must be—Anastasia, Dragon Lankford’s mate. “Bryan, look beyond your anger andseethis boy.”

Dragon smoothly sheathed the longsword in the scabbard strapped across his back. Then he stepped up to within a hand’s distance of Kevin, who was trying his best not to slump over the steering wheel. The Warrior sniffed at him and studied his Mark.

“What are you?” he finally said.

“A vampyre boy you almost killed,” said Sylvia Redbird as she pushed past Dragon. “This wound needs to be bandaged. He’s losing too much blood.”

“We will tend to him. Can you walk?” the beauty asked Kevin.

Dragon spoke before Kevin could make his voice work. “No, Anastasia. Different or not, he is still a red vampyre, and therefore our enemy. I need to make an end of him.”

“My love, we must not lose our ability to show mercy or, as Sylvia so succinctly said, there will be no difference between us and Neferet’s monsters. Trust me. I have a feeling about this boy.”

Dragon looked at his mate for a long moment before nodding. It was a curt nod, but it was still a nod. “We will tend him and hear his story. We are not monsters.”

Anastasia kissed Dragon’s cheek as the raven on her shoulder watched Kevin with dark, intelligent eyes. “Of course we are not.” She turned back to Kevin, repeating, “Can you walk?”

“Yeah. I think so.” He started to slide his legs around and get out of the Polaris. Before he could stop himself, Kevin gasped at the flood of pain. Bright specks of light blossomed in his vision. He would have fallen had Anastasia not caught him. “I’m—I’m s-sorry,” he said through chattering teeth.

“Bryan! This boy is wounded badly,” said the beauty while her raven took flight, squawking indignantly.

“There are blood and blankets in the container with the rest of the supplies Tina sent.” Grandma Redbird hurried to the carry-all in the rear of the Polaris, returning to Kevin’s side with two rolled up blankets and an armful of blood baggies. She rolled out a blanket onto the path in the space between the Polaris and the fallen tree, and tossed the second blanket at Dragon. “Use that sword for something besides hurting children. Cut this into strips.”

Kevin thought he heard Dragon mutter, “Yes, ma’am,” but it was hard to tell through the ringing in his ears.

“U-we-tsi, Anastasia and I are going to help you lay down on that blanket. Then we’re going to bandage that cut. But first drink a couple of these. They’ll help.”

“A-Anastasia?” Kevin stuttered. “Y-you are Dragon’s mate, r-right? M-my sister told me to f-find you. She d-d-didn’t say anything about you having a bird, though.” His hands were shaking too badly to hold the baggie, so G-ma held it to his lips as he drank first one, then a second and a third.

“Yes, of course I am Dragon’s mate, and Tatsuwa isn’t a bird. He’s a raven. If he hears you calling him a bird he’ll never forgive you.” Anastasia spoke to Kevin in a calm, soothing voice. “Okay, let’s move him.” She sent her mate a pointed look, and the next thing Kevin knew a wash of pain and surprise threatened to drown him as the compact Warrior pulled him from the vehicle as if he weighed no more than a toddler, and carried him to the blanket, plopping him down on it, face-first.