Me and My Shadow
Page 7
Gabriel’s quicksilver eyes narrowed with deadly intent.
The dragon shard considered Savian’s question. I told it to knock it off, and simply gave him a look that warned him he should know better.
“Can’t blame a man for trying,” Savian said with a mock sigh as he readjusted his position.
“Oh, I believe I can,” Gabriel said softly.
The threat just made Savian smile for a moment before he rearranged his expression to be one of businesslike focus. “Here follows my report for the past week. Per your instructions, I checked locations in Berlin, Paris, St. Petersburg, and Riga. There were no signs of activity by the individual in question in any of the cities but the last one.”
“Riga,” I mused, digging through my brain for any information on the location of the city. “Russia?”
“Latvia,” Savian corrected.
“I think I know where that is,” I said, nodding. “But why are you trying to hide the identity of the person Gabriel sent you to find? I assume that’s what all this is leading to—that you were sent to track down Baltic?”
Savian looked uncomfortably at Gabriel, who made a little gesture of unhappiness. “We both know how important it is to find the shard. I just took the most expedient method of doing so.”
I eyed him for a moment, ignoring the shard’s demand that I do inappropriate things to him with scarlet-tipped claws, and a decidedly unforked tongue. “Agreed, but why did you feel it necessary to pursue this without involving me?”
“You are involved, little bird. You are more involved than just about anyone else I could name,” Gabriel said dryly. “I simply asked the thief taker to locate the missing shard.”
“Which led him to Baltic.”
Gabriel pursed his lips, obviously about to add the usual rider he felt was necessary whenever I named the mysterious dragon.
“You said it was clear who he was, Gabriel. I think the time has come to move past any remaining identity questions. He is Baltic.”
To my surprise, he nodded. “I agree. I have not yet fathomed how he was resurrected—dragons are not like mortals, easily returned to life, and wyverns more so. As a rule, once we are dead, we stay dead—but it was not that statement I wish to dispute. We have no proof that Baltic still holds a shard. It’s my belief it is no longer in his possession, and was given to Kostya. Or rather, its location was made known to him.”
“Why do you believe that?” I asked, intrigued enough to be sidetracked momentarily from Savian’s report. “You know how Kostya is about the shard we took from him—he was ready to wipe out all the silver dragons to get it back, and I can’t see him acting like that, risking all-out war with not only us but the green and blue dragons, as well, if he already had a shard tucked away.”
“I do not mean he possesses the Modana Phylactery already. Baltic, as he himself stated, was not the type to give up something so valuable to a mere heir. But Kostya was recognized by him as being such, and that means Baltic must have entrusted to him the location of his lair, and given him the means to access it.”
“An interesting thought,” I said slowly. “It makes you wonder why Kostya didn’t go after Baltic’s lair when Baltic was killed. Assuming he actually was killed, and later resurrected by some means, and not just gravely wounded.”
“What makes you think he didn’t?” Gabriel asked.
Savian’s head had been swiveling back and forth between us, as if he were watching a tennis match. He interrupted, rubbing his head as he did so. “I wish you would both stand on one side. I’m getting motion sickness.”
We both ignored that complaint.
“You think Kostya got into Baltic’s lair?” I asked.
“Makes sense to me,” Savian grumbled. “A visit to my boss’s lair would certainly be number one on my list of things to do once I took over as head dragon.”
“But Kostya was imprisoned for a century in the aerie in Nepal.” I thought for a moment, trying to remember what Aisling had told me of Kostya’s spotted history. “Gabriel, didn’t you say he was nearly dead when you found him?”
“Emaciated and wounded, but not as close to death as you think. I told you before, little bird, it takes a concerted effort to kill a dragon, especially a wyvern. But that is not the point—Kostya retreated to the aerie after the fall of Baltic in order to lick his wounds and dream darkly of a return to power. He was not imprisoned until recently, a few years ago at the most.”
“By Baltic,” I said, trying to get the facts straight in my woefully confused mind.
Gabriel gave me an odd look.“If Kostya had breached his lair, do you think Baltic would have contented himself with simply confining Kostya?”
“He’d have been toast,” Savian said, nodding.
“Point taken. So you sent Savian after what, then? The location of the lair? The shard? Or Baltic himself?”
“All three if possible,” Savian answered, rubbing the back of his head again. I felt guilty enough to move to the other side of the bed, perching on the foot of it. “But it was the lair I was to find at all costs.”
“And you found it in Latvia?”
“I found where it used to be, yes. That is, I found Baltic’s stronghold. The one he held before he . . . er . . . was toppled.”
“Dauva,” Gabriel said, a distracted expression on his face. “You found Dauva. Many have sought it, but all traces of it have long since disappeared.”
Savian gave another half smile, half wince. “Most dragons don’t have the skills necessary to see through the layers of protection that were woven over the remains. To be honest, even I didn’t find it the first time I searched the location. But going by the records you gave me, I knew it had to be there, so I kept looking for signs, and two days ago, I found one.”
“An entrance to the lair?” I asked, every hair on my body standing on end at the thought of gold. The dragon shard, never subtle in its attempt to turn me into a dragon, swamped me with a sudden, overwhelming physical need for Gabriel. I looked at him in mute appeal, my hands gripping the blankets on the bed to keep me from throwing myself on him.
“Mate,” he responded, his eyes flashing with silver heat, his voice deepened by arousal. It swept along my sensitized skin like silk. I moaned.
The dragon shard considered Savian’s question. I told it to knock it off, and simply gave him a look that warned him he should know better.
“Can’t blame a man for trying,” Savian said with a mock sigh as he readjusted his position.
“Oh, I believe I can,” Gabriel said softly.
The threat just made Savian smile for a moment before he rearranged his expression to be one of businesslike focus. “Here follows my report for the past week. Per your instructions, I checked locations in Berlin, Paris, St. Petersburg, and Riga. There were no signs of activity by the individual in question in any of the cities but the last one.”
“Riga,” I mused, digging through my brain for any information on the location of the city. “Russia?”
“Latvia,” Savian corrected.
“I think I know where that is,” I said, nodding. “But why are you trying to hide the identity of the person Gabriel sent you to find? I assume that’s what all this is leading to—that you were sent to track down Baltic?”
Savian looked uncomfortably at Gabriel, who made a little gesture of unhappiness. “We both know how important it is to find the shard. I just took the most expedient method of doing so.”
I eyed him for a moment, ignoring the shard’s demand that I do inappropriate things to him with scarlet-tipped claws, and a decidedly unforked tongue. “Agreed, but why did you feel it necessary to pursue this without involving me?”
“You are involved, little bird. You are more involved than just about anyone else I could name,” Gabriel said dryly. “I simply asked the thief taker to locate the missing shard.”
“Which led him to Baltic.”
Gabriel pursed his lips, obviously about to add the usual rider he felt was necessary whenever I named the mysterious dragon.
“You said it was clear who he was, Gabriel. I think the time has come to move past any remaining identity questions. He is Baltic.”
To my surprise, he nodded. “I agree. I have not yet fathomed how he was resurrected—dragons are not like mortals, easily returned to life, and wyverns more so. As a rule, once we are dead, we stay dead—but it was not that statement I wish to dispute. We have no proof that Baltic still holds a shard. It’s my belief it is no longer in his possession, and was given to Kostya. Or rather, its location was made known to him.”
“Why do you believe that?” I asked, intrigued enough to be sidetracked momentarily from Savian’s report. “You know how Kostya is about the shard we took from him—he was ready to wipe out all the silver dragons to get it back, and I can’t see him acting like that, risking all-out war with not only us but the green and blue dragons, as well, if he already had a shard tucked away.”
“I do not mean he possesses the Modana Phylactery already. Baltic, as he himself stated, was not the type to give up something so valuable to a mere heir. But Kostya was recognized by him as being such, and that means Baltic must have entrusted to him the location of his lair, and given him the means to access it.”
“An interesting thought,” I said slowly. “It makes you wonder why Kostya didn’t go after Baltic’s lair when Baltic was killed. Assuming he actually was killed, and later resurrected by some means, and not just gravely wounded.”
“What makes you think he didn’t?” Gabriel asked.
Savian’s head had been swiveling back and forth between us, as if he were watching a tennis match. He interrupted, rubbing his head as he did so. “I wish you would both stand on one side. I’m getting motion sickness.”
We both ignored that complaint.
“You think Kostya got into Baltic’s lair?” I asked.
“Makes sense to me,” Savian grumbled. “A visit to my boss’s lair would certainly be number one on my list of things to do once I took over as head dragon.”
“But Kostya was imprisoned for a century in the aerie in Nepal.” I thought for a moment, trying to remember what Aisling had told me of Kostya’s spotted history. “Gabriel, didn’t you say he was nearly dead when you found him?”
“Emaciated and wounded, but not as close to death as you think. I told you before, little bird, it takes a concerted effort to kill a dragon, especially a wyvern. But that is not the point—Kostya retreated to the aerie after the fall of Baltic in order to lick his wounds and dream darkly of a return to power. He was not imprisoned until recently, a few years ago at the most.”
“By Baltic,” I said, trying to get the facts straight in my woefully confused mind.
Gabriel gave me an odd look.“If Kostya had breached his lair, do you think Baltic would have contented himself with simply confining Kostya?”
“He’d have been toast,” Savian said, nodding.
“Point taken. So you sent Savian after what, then? The location of the lair? The shard? Or Baltic himself?”
“All three if possible,” Savian answered, rubbing the back of his head again. I felt guilty enough to move to the other side of the bed, perching on the foot of it. “But it was the lair I was to find at all costs.”
“And you found it in Latvia?”
“I found where it used to be, yes. That is, I found Baltic’s stronghold. The one he held before he . . . er . . . was toppled.”
“Dauva,” Gabriel said, a distracted expression on his face. “You found Dauva. Many have sought it, but all traces of it have long since disappeared.”
Savian gave another half smile, half wince. “Most dragons don’t have the skills necessary to see through the layers of protection that were woven over the remains. To be honest, even I didn’t find it the first time I searched the location. But going by the records you gave me, I knew it had to be there, so I kept looking for signs, and two days ago, I found one.”
“An entrance to the lair?” I asked, every hair on my body standing on end at the thought of gold. The dragon shard, never subtle in its attempt to turn me into a dragon, swamped me with a sudden, overwhelming physical need for Gabriel. I looked at him in mute appeal, my hands gripping the blankets on the bed to keep me from throwing myself on him.
“Mate,” he responded, his eyes flashing with silver heat, his voice deepened by arousal. It swept along my sensitized skin like silk. I moaned.
