Keri Arthur - Dangerous Games

I blew out a soft breath, trying to stem panic, trying to keep my breathing slow and easy, and continued to carefully survey my surroundings.

If I was going to get out of here, I needed to know where all the players were, and what the entire situation was. I might suspect where I was and what my fate would be, but I needed to suss out the entire situation before I made any plans.

Which meant shifting a little to get a better view.

It was dangerous. I could see Jin standing in the shadows to the right of the flame, softly chanting, but I had no idea if there was something—or someone—waiting just beyond the range of my senses.

Still, the chance had to be taken.

Heart hammering, I carefully inched sideways—shifting, then waiting; shifting, then waiting—until I was lying at a slight angle across the stone. My stomach was a mess of knots by the time I finished, and my body flushed with the heat of fear, but my head was nearer to the edge of the giant table, and I had a far better view of a good half of the room.

Only it wasn't a room carved-out underground, as I'd suspected, but a real cave. An old cave, one whose walls looked worn by the grime of time. From this angle, the hieroglyphics looked far younger than the walls, the symbols carved into the earth like open wounds, fresh and bleeding.

Another shiver ran through me, and I tore my gaze away. Jin was standing to my far left, dressed in a black robe that covered him from neck to feet. Interestingly, the dragon had very little body heat under infrared. It was dark and purplish, not even resembling the heat of a body on the verge of death. It was something totally different, something totally alien.

But then, I guess I was dealing with the ancient spirit of a dragon, not a human in any sense of the word beyond the borrowed body.

Behind him was a door. It was a heavy, modern metal thing, so at odds with the feel of this place. Yet for some reason, just seeing it made me feel better.

If there was a door, people could get here. People could still rescue me if by chance I couldn't actually rescue myself.

It gave hope, when part of me hadn't really wanted to hope until now.

Midway between me and that door was a small stand. A leather cloth covered the top, and on this rested a wickedly curved knife and a heavy silver chalice.

Both items smelled of death and age, though up until that moment, I would have sworn silver could never retain a smell.

My gaze went from the small table to Jin and back again.

That knife might be my one chance of freedom. If Maisie hadn't been lying when she'd said the best way to kill the dragons was to behead them.

I studied Jin again. His eyes were closed, his concentration on the chant I couldn't understand. If it was a spell of some kind, it didn't appear to be aimed at me. At least, not aimed at restraining me. It could well be doing something else, something that would affect me when I moved.

But the only way I was going to find out was to actually move.

I blew out a soft breath, then wrapped myself in shadows and slipped off the stone table. The chanting went on, a rhythmical sound that showed no awareness of change.

I stepped across the stones, the warmth of them caressing my skin, sending little tingles of itchy energy spiraling up my legs. I ignored it, wrapped my hand around the black hilt of the curved blade, raised it high, and ran at Jin with all the speed I could muster.

I was a dhampire. I had not only the speed of a vampire, but the strength of a werewolf and a vampire behind me. And no one, not even the spirit of a dragon, could counter them. Especially when taken unawares. Jin looked up at the last possible moment, his words stuttering to a halt and his eyes widening just a fraction before the knife sliced through flesh, muscle, and bone, severing his neck swiftly and cleanly. That almost comical look of surprise froze on his face as his head rolled from his neck and dropped to the floor. A second later, his body followed, crumpling in an untidy heap, blood spurting from the stump of his neck and pooling around his head. Almost like a dark halo.

Wispy tendrils began to rise from his body. I raised the knife and quickly retreated to the circle of stones. I had no idea if a dragon's soul could actually attack, or whether the silver blade or the circle of stones would protect me, but it sure as hell felt safer than standing next to a rising soul that belonged to the master of pain.

The tendrils swirled, pulling together, finding shape, finding form. Becoming that of a serpent without wings.

It hissed, the sound echoing around the chamber and making me wince.

But it didn't attack, merely pulled apart once again and drifted away.

Going back to the hell where it had come from, hopefully.

It seemed Maisie hadn't lied to me, after all.

I looked beyond him, through the doorway. The next room seemed haunted by shadows. I couldn't see anyone, couldn't sense anyone. And yet… I had a feeling I was no longer alone.

A suspicion that was confirmed when one of those shadows moved.

For a moment, my heart leapt, and joy flooded through me. Rhoan. It had to be Rhoan, even if I couldn't feel his presence. He would have sensed I was in trouble, and come hell or high water, he would come for me.

Then the fresh air moving in from the other room hit me, accompanied by the noxious scent of unwashed flesh.

I almost laughed at the irony of it.

It wasn't Rhoan.

It was Gautier.

How totally, absolutely, fuckingly appropriate.

For a moment, the mad instinct to run, to rush past him and just get out, hit, and I took several steps forward before I forced myself to stop.

Truth was, I had no idea what waited beyond that door and Gautier. It could be the other dragon. It could be the dark god himself. Three against one just wasn't good odds in any way, shape, or form.

Besides, I might very well land myself in a room that offered absolutely no fighting—and more importantly, no running—space. If I had to fight Gautier, then this larger chamber was the place to do it in.

I glanced down at the stones surrounding the table. Unfortunately, now that Jin's chanting had stopped, there was no feeling of power coming from them. No purplish light coming from the writings on the wall.

Fate, it seemed, had no intention of helping me out any more than she already had. Not that I was surprised. Fate and I had never been chummy.

"What are you doing here, Gautier?"

He didn't answer immediately, instead squatting down next to Jin's body and dipping a finger into the thick poo! of blood. He raised it to his mouth and sucked on it lightly. His eyes were filled with a madness and fury that was Gautier and something more. Something alien and deadly.

"A dragon's blood tastes like human blood, in case you were wondering."

"I wasn't, but thanks for the update, stinko."

He smiled and rose. From behind his back he produced a knife—longer and brighter than the one I was holding. "It'll be interesting to see whether your blood is as sweet as other wolves', or if it holds the sharpness of your tongue."

My knuckles went white with the force of my grip on the curved knife. "Tell me one thing before we do this, Gautier."

"Grant a dying wish? It is not usually in my nature to do so, but seeing we've had such a sweet and caring relationship over the years, go ahead and ask."

"How did you get into Dunleavy's town house uninvited?"

"Ah." His smile mocked as he ran his finger up the edge of his blade, drawing blood and not seeming to care. "I am the creation of a lab, a vampire endowed with the powers of other races. Because of it, I have never had the threshold restriction of a vampire."

Meaning he could walk through any doorway uninvited? That sure went a long way to explaining how he'd become our greatest guardian. That and the fact he was a psycho who loved to kill.