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“I’ll get the body to Erik,” I told Cal. “Get some sleep.”
“I want to go hunting with you.”
“Not this time, Cal. They’re too close. And it’s too dangerous.” I stopped the car at the door to Cal’s private entrance on the west side of the house.
He shoved the car door open with enough force that I was surprised it wasn’t ripped from the hinges. “Stop treating me like a newling,” he said, the calm of his voice ruined by the clenched fists held at his sides.
I wasn’t in the mood to deal with a temper tantrum. I didn’t like working with anyone on my best days. Seeing this side of Cal made me question my sanity at agreeing to mentor him in the first place.
“You are a newling. You barely have a grasp on your powers of persuasion against humans. What makes you think you’ll be able to do anything but be an easy kill for an Ancient?” Drakán didn’t hit puberty till they were almost fifty years old, so even though he was a hundred in human years, he was still a very young dragon.
“I’ll never learn if you don’t give me a chance.” He was close to pouting, and I wouldn’t have been surprised in the least had he stamped his foot in protest.
I threw open my own door, not bothering to wince as it flew far into the wooded area surrounding the house. I jumped across the hood of the car from a standing position and had Cal’s face pressed against the cold stone of the drive before he knew what, or who, was happening to him. I squeezed my hand around the back of his neck and yanked his arm a little harder than necessary behind his back. I heard the pop of cartilage as his shoulder slid out of joint.
“I’m not going to kill you,” I whispered in his ear, “but I can make you wish you were dead. Continue your training. And only when I feel you’re ready will I let someone besides me try to tear the limbs from your body. Understood?”
He whimpered in agreement and I let him go, throwing myself back behind the wheel of the Land Rover and squealing around to the front of the house before Cal had the chance to get up. I was shaking with anger. The instinct to kill was close to the surface, and if I’d lost control for even a second I could have hurt Cal badly. Sometimes I hated our power, even though I knew I’d die before I ever gave it up.
I stopped the car in front of the garage and got out, taking a moment to stare at the gaping hole I’d created where the door should have been. I kicked at the front tire and couldn’t control the growl that spewed from my throat as the tire exploded in awhooftof hot air. The skies opened just as I grabbed the black bag that contained the remains of Jillian from the back of my Land Rover.
“Figures.” I closed my eyes and controlled my breathing before I did something I’d regret.
I ran to the front of the house in a blur of speed, and my brother, Erik, opened the door for me before I could turn the handle. I’d called him as we left the crime scene to let him know what had happened.
“Is there anything left of her?” he asked.
“Not much. She’s turning to ash as we speak. Just do your best. I only need a miracle.” I followed him down the curved stone stairs that led to his lab. There were no lights—the space so dark a human wouldn’t be able to see a hand in front of their face—but we had our dragon-sight to find the way.
Erik’s body blocked most of my view. He was a large man—strongly built—broad through the chest and slim through the hips. It was the body of a warrior, and in his time that’s exactly what he’d been. He skimmed just under six feet and carried himself like a general. His black hair was cut close to the scalp and his goatee was neat and trimmed. His eyes were a pale green, and despite the relaxed jeans and T-shirt he wore, he never looked comfortable in modern clothing. Erik’s mother, Claudia, had been the first wife of Augustus Caesar. When my father seduced her and left her pregnant with a half-Drakán child, Claudia was exiled from Rome for her adulterous treachery.
Erik hadn’t been blessed with any powers at all, other than Drakán longevity. This wasn’t unusual because of the human blood that tainted us, but it was extremely rare for someone like Erik since he was the grandson of a pure blood. His attempts to develop his powers had been fruitless over the years. Dragons could sense the strength of others around them, and Erik was no more powerful than a stronger than average human.
But Erik hadn’t let his deficiencies harden him over the years. He’d spent the early part of his life training the Roman armies and leading them to victory (I always assumed he spent so much time with humans so he felt like he had a purpose). When he’d gotten tired of a soldier’s life, he’d turned his interests to medicine and research. He was now known as a doctor of our clan. His lack of powers made him somewhat of an outcast, which worked out well because my ability to control minds made me one as well. We spent a lot of time together, and we were as close as anyone of our race could be.
Erik took the black bag from my arms and laid it on a metal sterile table. Some of the most advanced computers in the world lined one wall, and weapons and medicines he’d invented lined another. It was a state-of-the-art lab that any scientist would dream of.
“Are you going to tell Alasdair?” he asked.
Alasdair was our father, though we never called him so to his face. He was also the Archos—leader—for our clan. And I used the term leader loosely. He was a bastard by any definition. There weren’t many Ancients in our clan, but I’d known a few over the last five centuries. Their dragon natures always overpowered the minute amount of human blood that flowed through their veins. I’d read many times that the only difference between humans and animals was that humans had the ability to feel. They had a soul. But I could say with certainty that Alasdair had never had a soul, and the longer he was confined to the Earth Realm, forced to spend more time in his human body than dragon form, the more cruel and depraved he became. I tried to keep my distance.
“Eventually,” I said.
The human killings I’d been tracking over the last two months wouldn’t have drawn Alasdair’s notice. Humans were like cattle to him—nothing more than a source for food. But he would hear about Jillian’s death. And soon. Finding an enemy clan member’s body in our territory could cause Alasdair problems from the other Council members if we didn’t act swiftly—the Council consisted of the Archos of each of the five Drakán clans.
The Drakán were banished to Earth after the Atlanteans destroyed our Realm eleven thousand years ago. There’d only been five Drakán survivors after the attack—the strongest warriors our people had ever known—and the gods had given them the chance to rebuild our world and reclaim the once-awesome powers the Drakán had been feared for. All the warriors had to do was pick a king among them—someone to lead our people back to greatness. But the warriors fought bitterly—because it’s dragon nature to be selfish. The warriors were equals in strength, so the king couldn’t be chosen by a duel. It made the gods angry that the warriors couldn’t decide on a king, so they banished them to the Earth Realm—where our powers have steadily been diluted with every human mating.
After the Banishment, the warriors continued to feud, and that’s when the five clans were created. And why my job as Enforcer isn’t what it once was. Enforcers of old were meant to serve the royal family and make sure Drakán were loyal and obeyed the law. The Earth had been no more than a fertile hunting ground where we came for food, and the Enforcers traveled with the hunting parties to control the human minds so we remained invisible. My job now is much the same, but it’s hard to be an Enforcer when you’re not allowed to go into enemy territory. I had my hands full just looking out for my own clan.
But with the death of an enemy Drakán in our own backyard, this was a problem that was now out of my hands. As much as I hated being in Alasdair’s presence, I was going to have to seek him out and let him know what had been happening. I had no other choice, though the scars on my back burned with remembrance at the thought of facing him.
Alasdair loathed what the Drakán had become. With every generation born we were less and less of what we’d once been—more human than dragon—more prey than predator. And Alasdair hated that he was forced to rule over what he considered to be no more than food. My clan was terrified of him, but they had no choice but to bow to his wishes or face death. He kept us all under his watch, taking what he wanted and hoarding it away. And deserters were not dealt with quickly. They were tortured, eventually begging for death. They got it if they were lucky. It was a way of life my clan had learned to tolerate because they had no other choice. It wouldn’t change until someone could challenge Alasdair for Archos and win.
I turned to leave Erik and head to my rooms, but a strange scent wafted across my path and caused me to stop. It was the scent of pain and torment, and the human in me shuddered in misery. Alasdair had taken captives since I’d been gone.
“Don’t do it, Rena,” Erik said, grabbing my arm from behind. “Alasdair is out hunting, but he’ll punish us both if they’re gone when he returns. He wants to try and breed with the female. She’s the last woman in our clan to have a successful Drakán birth, and Alasdair said her scent is that of one who is fertile.”
“I’m not going to just sit by and let the innocent suffer. I can’t believe you can.”
