In the Shadow of Dragons (Aftermagic Book 1) Page 25

  “All right,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

  She backed out slowly, gathered his clothes and shoved them in the space behind the slab with him before heading back to the path, to the place the will-o’-wisp still hovered, where he’d told her to stay. Which was something she couldn’t have done. Not with him screaming like that.

  She could still hear it ripping at her soul.

  Her heart wouldn’t stop racing. She sat on the ground, her back to the stone slab in case he wanted more privacy, at once amazed and horrified. That fire must’ve been magic. It burned her, but left him physically unscathed. Your own magic couldn’t hurt you.

  But the part that scared her most was the way he’d acted before. Looking at his watch, the panic in his eyes. Taking his clothes off.

  He’d known that was going to happen. He was trying to get back to camp before it did. And ever since she’d been with the Darkspawn, he was always off somewhere with Noah right around this time of night. Completely exhausted when he came back.

  Her stomach tried to fold on itself. Did this happen to him every night?

  “Let’s go.”

  The whispered voice behind her drew an involuntary shiver. She stood slowly and turned to face him with reluctance. He was dressed, head bowed, staring at the ground somewhere to her right. He wouldn’t look at her.

  “Diesel, I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t.” Still looking away.

  “You can’t be … are you embarrassed?”

  His jaw tightened. “Don’t.”

  “Listen, I really am sorry,” she said. “I know you didn’t want me to see that. But try to look at it from my point of view. You tell me to stay here — no reason, no warning, just stay. You run off behind a rock. Then there’s fire, and screaming.” She frowned, even though he wasn’t paying attention. “How was I supposed to ignore that? If you’d just said ‘hey, stay here, I burst into flames every night but it’ll stop in a minute,’ I might not have seen you naked.”

  Now he looked at her, and she realized even Noah at full-throttle furious was a yapping puppy compared to him. “How did you know it happens every night?” he demanded in nothing short of a roar. “Tell me!”

  She held both hands up and took a very large step back. “I figured it out. Just now,” she said, hoping her voice sounded calming. “Because you knew it was coming. And this is the time you’re always out with … Noah.”

  Noah knew about this. Of course he did. But no one else at the camp knew, and they’d been keeping it secret all this time. Since Noah found him wandering the desert.

  Four years ago.

  Her knees turned to water, and she nearly collapsed. He’d been burning like this every single night, for at least four years. Maybe longer.

  Tell me!

  “You don’t know why it happens,” she whispered. “Do you?”

  For a moment his crushing glare remained, but then he shook his head miserably. “No idea,” he grated. “It just does. We’ve tried everything, but … it won’t stop.”

  Without letting herself think about it, she threw her arms around him.

  He stiffened at first, then shuddered and embraced her in return. One arm around her waist, the other hand sliding up her back to cradle her head against his massive chest. His body convulsed once, a wrenching sob echoing in the ear pressed against him.

  God, she never wanted to move again. For the first time in a long time, she felt warm and secure, relaxed. She felt safe with him — in a way she never had around Julian.

  He was the first one to stir, gently releasing her to step away. “Thank you,” he said hoarsely. “I think I might have needed that. But we have to get moving now.” A sardonic smile formed on his lips. “Noah knows exactly when this happens. He’s probably having a heart attack right now. And…”

  “When we get back, he’s going to strangle me,” she said. “Right?”

  “Probably.”

  She smiled. She could take an angry lecture from Noah about making Diesel miss his curfew, or killing the patrol officer, or anything he wanted to scream about. Yelling at people seemed to make him feel better, anyway.

  Despite the awful discovery of the torment he went through every night, she was grateful she’d gotten to know Diesel better.

  And she wouldn’t mind knowing him even more. Because for the entire time he’d held her, she’d stopped caring about Julian. Completely.

  CHAPTER 49

  The Badlands

  August 12, 11:20 p.m.

  Diesel’s time of the night had come and gone, and he still wasn’t back. Damn it, he shouldn’t have left him out there.

  Noah paced the ravine, back and forth in front of the entrance to the cavern. He’d already waited too long to do something. He should’ve sent a team hours ago to check around the city, the Warrens, the jails. But it would’ve risked even more of his people to get back the one he’d already sent to retrieve someone.

  Fuck it. Diesel was more than worth the risk. He’d go out himself, find him somehow and bring him back. With or without Teague.

  He’d no sooner decided that when he made out two figures descending the worn path from the cave Diesel used every night. A path that extended all the way to the top of the ravine, if you knew where to look. Only two people here did. One was himself.

  The other was extremely late, and on foot.

  He didn’t even get to enjoy the relief. It was immediately buried in an avalanche of fury as he strode toward the bottom of the path, already shouting. “What the hell happened?” he bellowed. “Where the fuck is your bike? Why isn’t she blindfolded? Are you trying to kill me, you asshole?”

  By then he’d stopped walking, and the two of them approached slowly. At least it was Teague with him. “And you,” he snarled at her. “I swear to God — what the Christ, is that blood on your shirt?”

  “Relax, Noah,” Diesel said. “It’s my blood.”

  He whipped a glare at him. “That does not make me relax! Start explaining. Now.”

  Teague shivered out a breath. “It’s my fault—”

  “Not you! Him!”

  Diesel grimaced. “My bike broke down,” he said. “Ten, twelve miles out. We had to walk the rest of the way.”

  “And the blood?”

  “Patrols shot me.”

  “Uh-huh.” Noah turned a blazing look on Teague, and she shrank back. At least she understood whose goddamned fault that was. “So you walked ten, twelve miles, shot.”

  “I had to. I was trying to get back.”

  “You couldn’t have holed up and sent a message. Had someone come out with a jeep and pick you up. Because that would’ve been too easy, right?”

  The look on the big man’s face said he hadn’t even thought of that.

  Noah huffed a breath. “And her?”

  “She knows.”

  “Of course she does.” Three days, and this girl had turned his camp upside-down. She did everything wrong, wouldn’t listen to a damned thing, was sarcastic and ungrateful and … utterly fearless. Even charming, sometimes. He couldn’t hate her for any of it.

  She was like a daughter. An infuriating, rebellious, fiercely independent daughter, who still needed guidance whether she wanted it or not. Before she got herself killed.

  “Noah,” Teague said cautiously. “I’m really—”

  “Shut the hell up.” He couldn’t hate her, but he could be furious at her. That was easy. And right now, he was furious enough to make her understand why she couldn’t pull stunts like this. “Diesel, go inside,” he said.

  “Noah, don’t.”

  He glared again. “Inside. Now.”

  Diesel went, reluctantly. But the look that passed between him and Teague before he did spoke volumes. Something had happened while they were out there, something that was starting to redefine their relationship.

  Noah’s heart nearly broke. If they weren’t careful, it would kill them both.

  He waited until he heard Diesel open the fla
p and go in, his eyes daring Teague to say something. Anything. She didn’t — she only looked back at him, her contrite expression not quite erasing her defiance.

  She looked like she expected him to kill her, but she wasn’t going to back down.

  All the anger went out of him. He shook his head and took a step away, toward the flat ledge of rock along the entrance wall that worked as a bench. “Come with me,” he said. “Please.”

  She hesitated to follow him, hesitated again when he sat and gestured for her to do the same. Finally, she lowered herself down and sat rigid, waiting.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said.

  A visible jolt went through her, and she slumped in place. “Noah, I’m sorry,” she gushed out. “I know that’s not good enough. But I’m sorry for everything, especially for being so horrible to you in the Warrens. I didn’t … I didn’t know that magic ….”

  “I know,” he said gently. “Diesel told me.”

  She flashed him a wide-eyed, panicked look. “He did?”

  “No details. He just said you understood, that you were ready to deal with magic. That’s why I let you come on the mission today.” A small sigh escaped him. “Did I make the right call, Teague? Because I’m not sure I did.”

  “You did. I mean, that man I killed…” She broke off with a shudder and an instant of rage. “I know you said not to. But he deserved it.”

  “He was someone you knew?”

  She nodded. “Sort of. The patrols who raided Selby’s bar, arrested me, he was one of them. He did … awful things to me.”

  Noah decided to let this one go. He understood that tone, the vengeance in it. If Blake ever came across the patrols who’d savaged his family, he’d look the other way — hell, he’d join in. Just like they’d all have his back if he ever got the opportunity to end Julian Bishop.

  But there was something else, something he couldn’t drop. “About Diesel,” he said.

  Her reaction told her it was worse than he thought. A quick indrawn breath, a small shudder. An almost-smile. “I’m not saying anything,” she said. “Not to anyone. No stories, unless it’s yours. Right?”

  “So you can remember the rules. Occasionally.” He smiled, but it faded fast. “I trust you to keep his secrets, because he does. But that’s not what I was going to say. Teague … you have to be very careful with Diesel. He’s dangerous.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Why? Because he’d kill your enemies if you let him?”

  “He told you that, too,” Noah murmured. This thing between them definitely went both ways. “No. Because there’s more to this … curse, or whatever he’s suffering from, than the burning. More than the amnesia.”

  She shivered. “Jesus, it’s worse than that?”

  “Yes.” He debated how much to tell her, and settled on just enough to frighten her. She needed to be frightened. Nothing else seemed to stop her from doing whatever she’d set her mind to do.

  This was something he’d never told anyone else — not even Diesel. But now, she was the only other person in the world who knew his secret. And she had to know all of it.

  “Sometimes he’s not himself,” he finally said. “It’s not like the fire. It’s completely random, completely unpredictable. Sometimes he just babbles nonsense. Other times…”

  When he didn’t continue, she said, “Other times what?”

  He drew a breath and went on. “He hurts people. Kills people, without knowing it,” he said. “He thinks he’s aware, because he remembers the times he’s just talking. But when this … other thing happens, he has no idea. He’ll turn on anyone who happens to be around him. And he’s unbelievably strong.”

  “I know he is,” Teague whispered. “I’ve seen it. Noah, did he try to kill you?”

  He didn’t answer, knowing she’d assume that meant yes. Which it did. “You have to be very careful,” he said. “If he ever hurt you like that, with no memory of doing it … it would destroy him. And you, if you somehow survived it.”

  She stared out across the ravine for a long time. Finally, she said, “I’ll be careful.”

  “Thank you.”

  After another moment of silence, he was about to suggest they go inside when she said, “Noah, there’s something else I have to tell you. About a shipment.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Shipment?”

  “Yes, a big one. HeMo,” she said. “When they had me in the truck, I heard the patrols talking. There’s a huge shipment leaving Casper in two nights, I think they said at six. They’re taking the 220 to Cheyenne. They were bitching about having to work overtime and being on the road that long with no rest stops.”

  “Huh.” That was smart of her, listening in on them. She was definitely trying to help the cause. “Good job, getting all that,” he said.

  “So are we going after it?”

  He frowned. She seemed really eager all of a sudden. “I don’t know yet,” he said. “I mean, it was just an overheard conversation. I’ll have to put the word out to my contacts, have them verify it and find out more.”

  For a second he thought she looked almost angry, but it was only disappointment. “All right,” she said. “It sounded like a good opportunity, that’s all.”

  “It could be. We just need more information first.” He smiled. “You should’ve noticed by now that rushing into things gets you in trouble,” he said. “But I’ll definitely look into it. Thank you for letting me know.”

  “You’re welcome,” she said, ending the words with a huge yawn. “Er. Maybe I should go to bed.”

  “Good idea. Go on, then.”

  She stood and looked at him with a tentative smile. “I guess you’re not a creep, after all,” she said.

  “Gee, thanks. Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight.”

  Noah stayed where he was until Teague went inside, and then a little bit longer. For the clean, calming smell of the air, and the view of the stars. It was another of the kind of nights he used to love before the world crashed down around him.

  Now that everyone was safe, he’d try to enjoy it before tomorrow came and ruined everything again.

  CHAPTER 50

  The Desert Star; Casper, Wyoming

  August 13, 7:30 p.m.

  At least Sawyer hadn’t brought her to a bar. The Desert Star was a Tex-Mex place trying to be classy and achieving a sort of rustic charm, with low lighting, dark wood paneling, and roomy booths. And a waitress who was incredibly interested in her ultra-famous customer, but not so much his date.

  Naomi wasn’t exactly feeling what she’d call comfortable.

  She hadn’t opened the clinic today. After calling Aileen and telling the still-rattled woman not to come in, she’d spent part of the morning rescheduling appointments, and the rest well into the afternoon trying to clean up BiCo’s mess. The damage wasn’t as bad as she’d feared, but it was bad enough. A few broken chairs, a door with cracked glass and a loose latch, a busted desk drawer. An immense breach of patient privacy with the records the patrol officers had gone through before she managed to drug them.

  Not that she expected any disciplinary action to take place on that front.

  Sawyer had shown up at her house promptly at seven to pick her up. She’d worried that he might expect her to ride a motorcycle, judging from that glass-pack roar she heard at the barn, but he came in a nondescript gray sedan. Casual dress, mostly groomed and shaved, and still looking like the kind of man capable of reducing women to puddles with a glance and a smile.

  Being in public with a man like this was … unsettling. Especially after what happened last night.

  She was staring at the open menu in front of her, not actually seeing anything printed on it, when Sawyer leaned across the table and spoke in low tones. “You look like I’m holding you at gunpoint,” he said. “Relax. Or I’ll kill you.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “That’s not a relaxing thing to say.”

  “It was a joke.” He smirked and leaned back. “Ever been
to this place before?” he said. “They do a great stacked enchilada.”

  “No, I don’t think I have.”

  “Are you more into chicken, or beef?”

  She drew a tight breath. “Are we really just going to act like we’re—”

  “Yes. We are.”

  The deadly Sawyer she’d glimpsed last night surfaced in those words, and she held back a shudder. He’d brought her out to a public place because he knew she’d be terrified, and he didn’t want her to make a scene.

  Except, she thought with rising anger, she wasn’t the one who had to worry about the public. She wasn’t a public servant, as he’d mockingly proclaimed himself on the phone when she called BiCo.

  She stared calmly at him. Smiled. “I don’t appreciate being threatened,” she said, low enough for only him to hear. “Use that tone with me one more time, and you’ll find yourself plastered all over the Internet and the tabloids tomorrow, covered in salsa. Do we have an understanding, Mr. Public Relations?”

  He gaped at her, and finally laughed. The sound was warm and genuine, not the plastic coating he used when he was playing Sawyer Volk, Star of the People. She decided she could get used to that sound.

  “All right. Point taken,” he said. “I’ll just ask you nicely. Can we please talk about something normal, like normal people? Don’t know about you, but I could use a break from … you know. The rest of this.”

  That seemed like a nice idea. But suddenly, she couldn’t think of a single thing that normal people talked about.

  “Um. Yes, so, how about…” she began. And got stuck there.

  Before she could flounder out some random normal thing, the waitress came back with their drinks. White wine spritzer for her, beer for him. An entire pitcher. She set everything down, and Sawyer thanked her.

  The waitress, a young woman whose name tag said Carlie M., giggled as she took a pad and pen from her apron. “I just can’t believe you’re here,” she breathed. “I mean, Sawyer Volk. Wow.”

  “That’s my name.” He floated a strained smile. “I’d love a steak fajita, skip the guacamole, and a side of frijoles.”