Dragon Seeker, Part Three Read online

  Trix went back to studying the wall, eyeing it for evidence that one of the Dragons’ ancestors had hidden the Relic within its stones. She moved slowly, methodically, refusing to miss a single item. She could tell that her behaviour was adding to the fury of the Forsaken, who really did seem to want to escape the underground even more than Trix did.

  The Seeker had made her way around a quarter of the large room towards the far end when she heard something: the shuffling of feet, muffled voices in the distance. Engaging her ears, she could vaguely make out a conversation starting up at the other end of the chamber before turning to look.

  “Cintra.” It was a man’s voice that spoke. Cintra. So that was the Queen bitch’s name. “They’ve got the Dragon shifter. He’s secured in one of the cells.”

  A surge of pain flared up in Trix’s chest. What? They’d caught Lyre? But how was that possible? There was no way Lyre would go willingly to a prison cell, not while she was in danger. Not without a fight.

  Which meant that he must be hurt.

  “Good. See that they keep him there for the time being.”

  “Of course.”

  Trix stopped moving and backed away from the wall, turning towards the small group of Forsaken who’d gathered near the entrance where she’d come into the chamber. Three figures were now visible, though no doubt more hid in distant corners. If she wanted to help Lyre, she needed to make a move, and fast.

  “I can’t find the Relic,” she announced loudly, making sure that everyone in the chamber would be able to hear her.

  “What do you mean, you can’t find it?” Cintra snarled, stepping quickly towards her. “You haven’t even looked about the entire space yet.”

  “Well,” Trix shrugged with all the apathy of a child who doesn’t feel like tidying her room, “I don’t know what to tell you. It’s too hard.”

  “Find the bloody Relic, Seeker,” the woman hissed.

  “Or what? You’ll kill me? Suck my blood through a bendy straw and all that?”

  “That’s a start, yes.”

  “Well, that puts you in a difficult position, doesn’t it? Kill me and you’ll never find it. Keep me alive and I’ll tell you to go fuck yourself with a broom handle wrapped in barbed wire.”

  The woman’s fists balled tight, but she tried hard to retain her composure. “Oh, for the love of…”

  Trix took a few steps towards her, a grin on her face. “Well, it looks like we’re at an impasse. But I’ll tell you what—I’ll find it, if you take me to see my mate first.”

  It was the man who responded this time. Dark-haired with a low, gravelly voice, and some sort of accent that sounded as though it originated in Eastern Europe. The third figure remained silent, standing back in the shadows for the moment.

  “I have a proposal for you,” the man said, stepping into the dim light. He was tall, handsome and the colour in his face told Trix that he was well fed. Which meant that he, like the Queen Bitch, would be far more powerful than she was. “Find the Relic, and we’ll see to it that you get to see your mate.”

  The third figure stepped forward now to stand next to the man. At first Trix couldn’t discern anything about her appearance other than that she was female. She wore a long, dark robe and spoke from within the shadows of a voluminous hood, her voice soft and oddly familiar.

  “I think we should take her to see him now,” she said. “She’s a mere human; it’s not as though she can fight one of us without her weapons. Besides, it will inspire her to trust us if she sees that he’s still alive.”

  With those words the speaker drew her hood back. As soon as Trix saw her face, she stifled a gasp.

  Amara.

  Trix had met her on the street in London the night that she and Lyre had killed Farell. Amara had advised the Seeker to do as the Kindred asked of her, and had ultimately pushed Trix towards finding Lyre in Dover.

  That night she’d seemed like an ally. So what was she doing here? She’d said once that she wanted to help the Dragons. But maybe that been a ruse, a mere trick to lure Trix to the Relic. If so, Trix’s instincts were now seriously in question. Maybe Amara was one of them. A servant to Cintra, to the creatures who’d imprisoned her mate. A liar, conniving and evil like the rest of her kind.

  Trix ground her jaw, angry with herself for trusting such a creature. Amara had seemed so genuine, so kind. Even now, she didn’t quite look or smell like the others; she had the aura of something weaker, less threatening. Unlike their cheeks, hers were sunken and pale. There had been no feeding on blood for her, apparently. She looked…ill.

  In spite of that, Trix glared at her accusingly, anger fuelling her mind. She’d never wanted so badly to punch another person in the face. But Amara’s dark eyes stared back into her own and she shook her head almost imperceptibly, as though she were trying to convey a silent message.

  “I believe the Seeker would be…motivated…by seeing her lover imprisoned,” Amara repeated, turning to face the others. “It’s not as though she can help him escape, after all. She knows that his only chance of freedom is if she complies with your orders.”

  “Fine,” Cintra replied, dismissing them with a gesture of her hand. “Take her to him. But first, make sure she has no weapons.” She turned back to Trix. “When you return, Seeker, I expect you to do as I’ve asked. Otherwise I’ll have your beloved Dragon brought here. And I will force you to watch as I drain the blood from his handsome body until he’s nothing more than a hollowed shell.”

  Slowly Trix peeled off her sword’s sheath and her jacket, placing them on the large stone table. A cloaked figure stepped out of the shadows and long, white fingers grabbed the items, drawing them back into the darkness.

  Reluctantly, Trix made her way towards Amara. The strange woman stood in silence, eyes fixed forwards. She looked as though she were in a trance of some sort, her mind a million miles away. But when Trix came close, she turned to face her.

  “Come along then, Seeker,” she said, turning to lead Trix through one of the chamber’s doors, “we don’t have all bloody year.”

  They stepped through the doorway into the long tunnel, leaving the others behind.

  “So,” Trix whisper-hissed when they’d walked some distance, “you really are one of them. One of the blood-seekers. What an idiot I was to think you were better than that.”

  Amara’s face spun her way, her eyes flashing rage. “Be silent for a little,” she whispered. Her manner had changed completely from a few nights earlier. All the kindness was gone, the softness replaced by a hard edge.

  “I told you to hurry up,” the dark-haired woman snarled out loud, her fingers pushing Trix’s back and causing her to stumble on ahead. “If you want to see your lover again, you’ll do as I say.”

  “My lover would tear your head off for your deceit,” Trix whispered again. “So forgive me if I’m not entirely convinced that you want what’s in my best interests.”

  “Just shut your mouth,” Amara growled as she picked up her pace, her flowing robe trailing on the stone floor behind her as she accompanied Trix down the hall.

  Trix kept pace, more curious than afraid. Something told her that Amara, for all her lies and bizarre behaviour, wasn’t taking her away to slit her throat or even to drink her blood. Some other motive drove her, and the Seeker intended to find out what it was.

  When they’d traveled a ways down the long hall, Amara stopped abruptly, grabbing Trix’s arm as she turned to face her again. Her eyes shifted back in the direction they’d come, no doubt to ensure they weren’t being followed.

  “Listen, I’m taking you to the Dragon shifter, but you’ll need to do as I say. Do you understand?”

  Trix wanted to tell her that no, she didn’t understand a damned thing. To curse the woman out for her part in the evil that had invaded these underground passageways. For being an accomplice to everything that was dark and brutal. But she nodded, because the truth was that she wanted nothing more than to regain her link with Lyre. To
find her way back into his mind, to hear his voice inside her. To make sure he was all right.

  “Are you going to hurt him?” she asked, her tone bitter. “You’re taking me to watch, I suppose.”

  Amara’s eyes, still fixed on the hallway, shifted back to meet hers for an instant, her expression softening at last. “I want nothing to do with torture, or any of this. I’m here to help you, as I have been from the start. You need to trust me.”

  “Help me? How odd. A minute ago your people, and I use the term loosely, were threatening my life and the life of my mate. You certainly have an odd idea of what ‘help’ means.”

  “The two Forsaken back there, Cintra and Dakra, they rule a coven of Forsaken that lives near Glastonbury.”

  “Coven?” Trix breathed the word, which felt foul on her tongue. But of course; vampires and covens went together like tea and scones. With a lot more blood and suffering, of course.

  “The Forsaken you’ve encountered probably seem to work alone, but I can assure you that they congregate in covens, with one goal in mind.”

  “To stop the Dragons getting their hands on the Relics,” Trix murmured.

  Amara nodded. “In the past few days the Glastonbury coven has assumed complete control over the Tor, along with a few of their own, and their Lapsed servants. They’ll never let you leave with the Relic, not while they’re alive. I came to this place in the hopes of aiding in your cause.”

  “How the hell did they know the Relic was here? No one knows the verses but the Dragons,” said Trix. It just didn’t add up.

  “I don’t know how they found out. There’s talk of a leader—someone very powerful, who has access to information.” Amara’s voice was tight, as though the words scared her a little. “I don’t think anyone has infiltrated the Dragons’ Guild, but who knows?”

  “I can’t imagine anyone infiltrating,” Trix said, her eyes searching the end of the hallway to make sure that no one could be listening in. “This powerful person—is it a Forsaken?”

  “I don’t know. But when I learned from my sources that there was to be an ambush, I headed this way myself and offered my help to the coven. It was my only chance to find out what they were up to. So last night I went into town and discovered that you and Lyre were staying at the inn, and it wasn’t difficult to deduce that you’d be showing up under the Tor sooner rather than later. Now, do you want to see Lyre or not?”

  Trix nodded. But one question troubled her: if Lyre was imprisoned, how the hell would she get him out? For all of Amara’s pretence of helping, Trix wasn’t yet sure she could trust her. Amara might look sickly, but she was a half breed between shifter and vamp, and no doubt very strong. It wasn’t as though Trix had any weapons on her.

  After another minute or so of walking, Amara stopped at a tall blackened door of iron. Extracting a key from a chain around her neck she unlocked it, ushering Trix inside. The Hunter went in, her steps hurried. As soon as she’d passed the threshold she sent her thoughts out into the shadowy corridor.

  “Lyre—are you here?”

  No response came, and she wondered if they’d already hurt him. Maybe he was unconscious, unable to receive her words.

  Trix sniffed the air, but all she could make out was the stench of another Forsaken up ahead. A moment later a tall, thin man walked towards them, his eyes bright and menacing like the others of his kind. A guard, no doubt from Cintra’s coven.

  Amara addressed him before Trix could open her mouth. “I’ve brought her to see your prisoner as a negotiating tactic,” she said. “She’s unarmed.”

  The man nodded. “Be quick about it,” he growled, cracking his knuckles. “I have no interest in witnessing some sort of romantic reunion.”

  As they moved forward, Trix spotted a series of vertical iron bars at the end of the long, narrow hallway. Grasping two of them was a large set of hands, their knuckles white with tension.

  Lyre, she shot out again. Can’t you feel me here?

  But again there was no reply. Perhaps the grim magic of this place had stopped their thoughts being transmitted.

  The Dragon shifter stood on the other side of the bars, his forehead pressed against them, his broad chest heaving with each breath. Looking as though he’d been hurt. As though…

  Trix cut away from Amara and the guard, dashing towards her lover, desperate to make contact. She encased the shifter’s fingers in her own, forcing him to look into her eyes. Damn it, if he couldn’t read her thoughts, at least he’d be able to read her lips.

  But as he raised his head, her eyes widened with shock.

  “But…you’re not Lyre.”

  Twin

  Trix froze, staring into the shifter’s face. He was so much like her lover, his eyes, his hair, even. But his scent was different. And that set of angry vertical creases between his eyebrows…she’d encountered those before.

  “Minach Frownyface,” she gasped out loud.

  Lyre’s twin brother was staring into her eyes.

  He nodded his head. “Surprise, surprise, Hunter,” he grinned, pulling his hands away to casually examine his cuticles. “I suppose you’re not entirely happy to see me.”

  Trix turned to see if the Forsaken on guard was watching them, but Amara had engaged him in conversation and drawn him away, distracting him temporarily. Whether a deliberate tactic or not, Trix was grateful for it.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” she asked Minach quietly, leaning forward. “How did you….”

  “Bit of a long story, I’m afraid,” he told her. “Meanwhile, my brother is out there in those tunnels, looking for you. I’ve lost communication with him, I’m afraid. Something in these walls is keeping me from hearing him.”

  “Yes, I have the same problem. But you said that he’s safe?” Trix’s heart was pounding at a mile a second. Knowing Minach had spoken to Lyre made everything a little easier, if far from perfect.

  Minach nodded. “Yes, very. As far as I know, at any rate. It seems that since he began spending time in your company, if you will, his ability to hide in shadow has improved. An inherited skill from his Hunter lover, I suspect.”

  Heat surged to Trix’s cheeks as she blushed at the thought. Of course. Dragon shifters were supposed to acquire the skills of their lovers, as well as the other way around. Trix had always been gifted at concealment and stealth attacks. She was glad to have been able to give something back to the man who’d given her so much.

  She breathed a sigh of relief. “So what do I do now?” she asked. “They won’t let me leave until I’ve found the Relic. But if I do find it, they’ll kill me and confiscate it. There’s no doubt in my mind that they’ll kill you. Cintra—the Forsaken who has my weapons—she said that Lyre can’t shift here.”

  “Oh, that small wrinkle,” Minach replied. Somehow, he didn’t seem too concerned. “Well, if you can get me out of here, I can help with that when the time comes. We just have to keep the Relic out of their hands as long as possible.” He pointed towards Amara and the other Forsaken, whose eyes had turned their way. “Quick,” said Minach. “I think they’re coming to cart you off. Give me a kiss.”

  “What?”

  “Just…pretend you’re saying good-bye to my brother.”

  She leaned in to give him a quick peck on the cheek.

  “Not much passion, but I suppose it’ll have to do,” he whispered. “Now go all sobby and tell them you’ll do anything if they just release me.”

  Trix smiled up at him, understanding his meaning, and pivoted to face the others.

  “Please don’t hurt him,” she said, scrunching up her features in mock despair, as she’d seen hysterical women do in movies. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

  “Good,” said Amara, “the leaders will be pleased to hear that you’ve become compliant. We’ll return to the chamber, and you can get back to work. And perhaps this time you’ll be more cooperative.”

  But even as she finished the sentence, Amara spun around quickly towards the
guard, pulling a long, gleaming object from within the sleeve of her cloak. Faster than Trix’s eye could register, she slashed it along the guard’s throat. The man collapsed in a limp heap on the ground, his body exploding into a cloud of dust within seconds. Holy shit. It seemed that Amara was a skilled assassin, and she had Dragon bone blades at her disposal. And Trix was more confused than ever.

  Without another word, she turned back to face Trix and Minach. “We must move quickly,” she said, reaching down to grab a ring of keys that lay on the ground next to where the man had fallen. Quickly she rushed over and unlocked the door to Minach’s cell.

  “A Dragon bone blade?” the shifter said, an eyebrow arched high. “What, may I ask, is a Forsaken doing with such a weapon?”

  “I’m not a Forsaken. If you must know, an old friend gave it to me,” said Amara, a brief look of sadness sweeping over her features. “Here.” With that, she extracted another concealed knife, one with a long, curved blade, and handed it to Trix. “You’ll need this. Keep it hidden.”

  Trix held it up, eyeing it briefly. “Hmmph,” she huffed. “I prefer my sword.”

  “You’ll get your blade back soon, I promise,” said Amara. “For now, just make do with what you have.”

  When she’d opened the door to the cell, Minach’s tall form emerged. And to Trix’s relief, he didn’t immediately lunge at Amara. “Not accustomed to making allies of your ilk,” he said, examining her for a moment. “But you opened the door for me, so I suppose I’ll wait a little while before severing your head.”

  “Why, thank you for your kindness,” Amara said, her mouth twisting into something that was almost a grin. “Someone’s mother raised him right.”

  Trix clenched her teeth, annoyed that the two seemed to be enjoying a little friendly banter when Lyre was still somewhere in a dark tunnel, trying to make his way towards a group of unsavoury bloodsuckers.