Keri Arthur: Mercy Burns

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other and as I did so, another sensation swept over me.

I was no longer alone on this hillside.

And it wasn’t Damon who approached so stealthily.

My stomach dropped and a sick sensation rose up my throat. I swallowed hard, concentrating on the approach of the stranger, my grip on the straps of the backpacks so hard my knuckles glowed white. The thick, musky heat of him got closer and closer, until his scent stained every breath and my muscles were trembling with the need to move, to react.

But I didn’t, knowing I’d have only one chance at this.

The hairs on the back of my neck rose and my skin burned with the awareness of danger. Just as it felt like his thick fingers were going to descend on my shoulder, I swung around, ripping a backpack away from my shoulder and swinging it at the stranger as hard as I could.

He ducked, but not fast enough, and the pack caught him on the shoulder and sent him staggering. I had a brief glimpse of blond hair and a hawklike nose, then I dropped and swept with my leg, hitting the back of his knees hard and knocking him off his feet. He landed with a grunt that sounded more like a curse and tried to regroup and scramble to his feet, but I came at him fast, following with a punch to the face that flattened his nose and had him unconscious in an instant.

For several seconds, I stayed low, my body trembling as I listened to the faint breeze, trying to discover whether there were any other draman trying to sneak up on me.

But the night was free of any unusual noises, and the breeze was free from the taint of others.

Which didn’t mean they weren’t out there.

My gaze returned to the man at my feet. He was a big, rough-looking man, and more like the muscle than the brains. Besides, his face didn’t look familiar, and if the man I’d heard talking to Angus—the man whose voice reminded me of Seth —was the leader, then surely I would recognize him.

The stranger had one of those small speaker microphones clipped around his ear, the talk switch clipped to the lapel of his jacket. Had he reported my presence? Surely not. The stillness of the night would carry sound too well, and I would have heard him speaking. Although I hadn’t heard him creeping up on me until it was almost too late.

But then, some draman could move with the stealth of dragons.

I ripped off the mike to insure he couldn’t use it, then searched through his pockets until I found a wallet. His name was Ralph Jenkins and, according to his license, he lived in Las Vegas. Given the extent of this operation, that might or might not be true. Further inspection revealed several credit cards—all in different names—and a large amount of cash. Payment for destroying a town, perhaps?

I shoved everything back into his pocket then rose and took off his jacket, tearing it into long strips with which I tied his hands and feet. To make doubly sure he couldn’t escape, I took off his shoes and socks, then grabbed his shoelaces and tied the ends to form a long string. I roped his thumbs together then ran the laces around his neck. It might not be as deadly as Damon’s garrotes, but it wouldn’t be comfortable, either.

With the stranger trussed as securely as possible, I touched his face and reached for his flame, sucking in the heat of him. It swirled through my body—a delicious burn of energy that replaced the reserves drained by the long night of driving. But unlike Damon, I left embers behind. I didn’t have the skill—or the desire—to completely annihilate what nature had given him.

The stranger began to stir, his feet twitching against the ropes. I grabbed him under the armpits and, with a grunt of effort, dragged him into the shade. It wouldn’t stop him from energizing himself once dawn arrived, but hopefully I’d have my answers and be out of reach by then.

But first, I had to find out who waited below.

I stood back and toed his thigh. He jerked in reaction, then his eyes snapped open and his face contorted in an odd mix of anger and pain. His gaze briefly roamed the trees then fixed on me.

“Scream and I’ll fry you.” My voice was flat and my fingers glowed in warning.

“Who the fuck are you?” he spat, his voice a growl of low fury.

“A question I was going to ask you,” I replied, “because I don’t for one minute trust the name on your license.”

“Well, that’s too bad, ain’t it, because that happens to be my real name.”

I doubted it, but it wasn’t a point worth arguing. “Why are you here in Red Rock?”

“Visiting kin.” He paused, and his features twisted again. This time, it was pure fury. “What the hell have you done to my flames?”

“Doused them. And unless you answer my questions, I’ll make damn sure you never flame again.”

His gaze met mine, his expression disbelieving and yet a touch fearful. “Draman haven’t got the skills to do that. Only dragons have.”

“And many dragons still believe that draman can’t fly or flame.” I shrugged and reached forward, as if to touch his skin. He jerked away from me and I let my hand drop. “Answer my questions and I’ll leave you restrained but alive. Or would you rather risk your flames—and your life—in the belief I might be lying?”

He swore under his breath, then said, “They don’t pay me enough for this sort of shit.”

“Who doesn’t?”

“Some fellow named Franco. That’s all I know, I swear.”

“You contacted him through the Deca Dent nightclub?”

Ralph grunted, which I took for a yes. “I never went there,” he added. “It was all done by phone.”

“Is this the first town you’ve been sent to destroy?”

He frowned. “I ain’t here to destroy no town.”

“Then what are you here for?”

“I’m here with the darting team.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Darting team?”

“Yeah. They wanted to capture some muerte that was causing them trouble.” He paused and gave me the evil eye. “As well as his bitch draman. Someone obviously forgot to warn us the bitch could fight.”

And suddenly Leon’s bravado made sense. He might have paid a hefty price, but he’d been setting us up all along. Red Rock was a trap, not a town slated for destruction. Which made me wonder if Leith’s people were okay. I had to hope so, because I couldn’t phone to find out—I didn’t have the time and there didn’t seem to be any reception in this valley.

“And what happened to the muerte?”

“No frigging sign of him.”

Relief rolled through me. At least he wasn’t captured. Or dead. But it did beg the question—why was he hiding? “How many of you are there?”

“Six.” He shrugged, the movement awkward. “I think it’s overkill. It’s only one dragon, after all.”

Obviously, no one had ever explained to this man just what a muerte was capable of. But then, I shouldn’t have been surprised—he was draman, after all. And I hadn’t known about the muerte, either, until recently.

“How long have you been here?”

“We got here before eleven. Just as well I can flame, I tell you, because it gets damn cold here at night.”

“So what did you do with all the people living here?”

“Oh, they were eliminated weeks ago. This was one of the first places we did.”

“What did you do with the bodies?”

“Buried them, of course. We didn’t want their kin knowing they were dead—not that most of them had kin who would even care.” He stopped and gave a nasty grin. “Do you have kin who will care when you die, little draman?”

I didn’t answer, but the sick feeling in my gut was growing. My gaze darted along the tree line. I couldn’t see or feel anyone approaching, but that didn’t mean they weren’t out there, getting a line on me with a rifle at this very moment.