If There Be Dragons Page 15

  “Ah, you’ve come to say good-bye,” he told her in a pleased voice, his undragonlike features brightening.

  “Good-bye?” Brooke sat in the bow of her little boat and stared at him. “I don’t want to say good-bye!”

  “You didn’t want to jump into the pit either,” he reminded.

  “I was afraid then. I’m not afraid anymore.”

  “That’s why you no longer need me,” he said gently.

  Brooke stared at him and felt a sudden sadness, an abrupt sense of something that felt like loss.

  “You haven’t lost me,” the dragon told her, floating nearer. “I’ll always be a part of you. And that’s the difference now.”

  “I don’t understand,” she murmured.

  “Yes, you do.” He smiled. “You came to me that first time divided. The child in you had just awakened and the woman was confused by that. So I had to show you both sides of yourself.”

  The bright golden eyes laughed at her. “You see—you do understand!”

  “Yes.” She looked at him. “But I’ll miss you.”

  Chuckling, the dragon floated back a bit and held out his arms. “Enough of that. Jump one last time.”

  Brooke stood up, balancing easily in the bow. “Will you catch me this time?” she asked.

  “This time,” he promised, smiling.

  She jumped and he caught her, his body warm and hard and familiar. And the pit was warm darkness and the sound of a heart beating….

  Brooke woke with a start, remembering immediately where she was. She blinked and raised her head from Cody’s shoulder, smothering a yawn with one hand.

  “Ready for lunch?” He was smiling down at her. “Or do you need the sleep more than food?”

  She felt her stomach rumble and laughed. “Food, definitely.” Surprised, she saw that the Mercedes was pulling into the parking lot of the seafood restaurant that was a favorite of theirs on this trip. “Here already? Heavens, how long have I been sleeping?”

  “Hours,” Cody responded politely. “And very boring it’s been for me, let me tell you!”

  “Sorry, love,” Brooke murmured, kissing his chin. The kiss nearly cost both the Mercedes and a red Cougar their bumpers, since Cody was a bit distracted while maneuvering into a parking space.

  “You almost caused me to bob that Cougar’s tail,” Cody told her severely as they got out of the Mercedes.

  Brooke smiled at him, and then hastily smothered another yawn. “It wouldn’t have done the Mercedes much good either,” she noted.

  He caught her hand as they started up the walk, looking concerned. “No more late nights for you, wife. You’re looking a little pale, and you obviously didn’t get enough sleep even with the nap.”

  “I’m fine,” Brooke promised lightly, preceding him into the restaurant.

  If the timing hadn’t been wrong again, she would have explained that both the slight pallor and her sleepiness were merely symptoms. And those symptoms had prompted Pepper to suggest to Brooke that she ought to visit a doctor and get it confirmed.

  Once over the shock, Brooke had laughed at her own blindness; she’d honestly thought she was coming down with something like the flu, and had avoided telling Cody about the afternoon naps she’d been taking. Sleepiness and pallor aside, though, she felt wonderful. And whether it was her own consciousness of eating for two or nature’s prodding, her appetite satisfied even Cody’s watchful gaze.

  Once back on the road again, they whiled away the time and the miles with easy conversation.

  It was late when they reached their apartment outside D.C., and as Cody unlocked and opened the door a twenty-pound bundle of odd-colored fur launched itself at them from the entrance hall table. Cody caught the cat with an expertise born of practice, shooting Brooke an amused look.

  “I think he missed us.”

  “I’d say so. Hello, Falstaff.”

  Falstaff blinked china-blue eyes happily at her. He was unusual in the feline kingdom, being unfettered by reserve, independence, arrogance, or any other catlike traits. A tongue-in-cheek gift from Pepper and Thor, Falstaff was the first offspring of their cat King Tut and the solid black Siamese mate Tut had brought home one day.

  Unusual in his manners since Falstaff considered himself human, the cat was also unusual in appearance. He’d inherited most of his mother’s coloring; he was solid black except for blond eyebrows and a peculiarly ringed blond-and-black tail. But he’d inherited the Siamese eyes and voice from his father, and he used the latter to complain raucously as he was set on the floor about being abandoned for the better part of three days.

  Reading a note that had been left for them on the hall table, Brooke looked down at the nattering cat with a mock frown. “Stop complaining. Mrs. Peters not only fed you regularly, but she says that the two of you listened to music and sunned yourselves on the balcony yesterday.” She sent an amused look toward her husband as he hung up their coats. “They also went for a drive; she spoils Falstaff to death.”

  Cody chuckled as he put an arm around his wife and led her down the hall. “Remember that her Siamese will be ready for a mate in a few months; I think she’s contemplating a litter of interesting kittens.”

  “I bet she’ll offer us pick of the litter,” Brooke said.

  “Fine with me,” Cody responded equably. “Oh, by the way, the Martins want us to come look at their pups. Are you sure you want a half-poodle half-Shetland sheepdog? Lord knows what he’ll look like when he’s grown.”

  “Adorable.” Brooke laughed. “We’ll need a bigger apartment.”

  “I was thinking we might start looking at houses,” Cody said absently, rummaging through the refrigerator.

  Brooke smiled to herself. “Sounds like a good idea to me.”

  “D’you think Phantom and Psyche will bring their pups to visit while we’re at the lodge next summer?” Brooke asked casually. She glanced absently over at the corner of their bedroom, where Falstaff was reposing in his accustomed bed on a boudoir chair, and wondered briefly at a feline who could accept even wolves with complete calm. The cat was definitely uncatlike.

  “Probably, since they did last summer,” Cody responded as he came out of their bathroom. He regarded her sternly and changed the subject. “What have you done with my pajama bottoms, wench?”

  Seated cross-legged on the bed brushing her long hair, Brooke lifted an eyebrow at him. “My dear husband, you haven’t worn pajamas since the wedding night—and for some time before that, if I remember correctly.”

  “Ah. I knew something was missing.”

  “I didn’t miss them.”

  He started laughing. “Well, if I can’t wear pajamas, what’re you doing in that thing?”

  “That thing” was a baby-doll confection of black satin and lace with about as much material as a lady’s hankie.

  “You bought it for me,” Brooke reminded calmly. “And if I didn’t have you to keep me warm, it’d never leave the dresser drawer; it’s drafty as hell.”

  Laughing, Cody discarded his towel and sat down on the bed beside her. “It does wonders for my temperature!”

  Brooke tossed her brush to the foot of the bed and leaned back on her pillow, smiling at him. Reading the gleam in his eyes, she decided that it was now or never. “Uh…Cody—”

  “You’re still pale,” he discovered suddenly, frowning. “Honey, maybe you’d better see a doctor.”

  “Yes, well, I’m planning to make an appointment tomorrow.”

  “I knew there was something wrong! How do you feel?”

  Brooke thought for a moment. “Different,” she said judiciously. “Decidedly different.”

  Cody looked even more worried.

  Hastily, Brooke said, “I probably shouldn’t say anything, because I could be wrong, but somehow I don’t think so. I—uh—I think we’re expecting, Cody.”

  “Expecting what?” he said blankly.

  Brooke laughed in spite of herself. “Now, look, love. You certainly don’t
need a lecture on how families grow!”

  “Families? You mean—” His golden gaze dropped to his wife’s flat stomach incredulously.

  “That’s it.” She stared at him. “Cody? Snap out of it, love! Say something. Anything.”

  “A baby,” he said. “Our baby.”

  Brooke watched his face with fascinated wonder. And she wished suddenly that she could film this moment and his face, just to be able to show it, in the distant future, to a child not yet born. This is how your father looked when he knew you were on the way. This is how much he loved you even then….

  “Cody…”

  “Brooke…my Brooke.” Golden eyes blazed down at her. Unsteadily he said, “I don’t think—I’m going to be as calm about this—as I thought.”

  She smiled very tenderly. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, love.”

  EPILOGUE

  “WOULD I MIND another what?” Thor asked absently, pulling a battered stuffed owl from under his pillow and staring at it. It was Jenna’s owl, and he tossed back the covers with a sigh born of experience, knowing that if she woke up during the night and wasn’t able to find Coco (odd name for an owl, he thought for the hundredth time), she’d have a two-year-old fit.

  Sitting at the foot of the bed brushing her hair, Pepper hid a smile. “We’ll talk about it when you get back,” she murmured.

  Thor went down the hall to the twins’ bedroom, creeping in and hoping the dim night-light would show him the inevitable scattered toys before he broke his neck falling over one. He stepped over Fifi, the Doberman—the twins’ self-appointed guardian—with an automatically soothing—if soft—murmur, and glanced in amusement at Brutus, the attack-trained Chihuahua, who was lying with his customary arrogance on the foot of Jamie’s bed. Of King Tut there was no sign; temperamental Siamese and his black mate preferred to sleep downstairs on the couch.

  Thor bent over the nearest small bed, very gently tucking Coco in the crook of a small arm.

  Pausing for a moment, as he often did, he looked at his children and marveled silently.

  He smiled slightly as he gazed down at the burnished red head on the pillow. She’d gotten his hair, little Jenna, and her mother’s glorious violet eyes. And she’d be a delicate beauty one day; she could already wind anything not made of stone around her tiny finger.

  Looking across to the other small bed, he saw the tumbled silver hair of Jamie, only that visible above the covers pulled up to his eyebrows. He’d already shot up taller than his sister, Thor reflected; the pediatrician had predicted an eventual six feet or more. Jamie, with the gray eyes of his father holding an expression uncannily like his mother’s serene self-knowledge.

  Thor shook his head slightly, bemusedly, wondering at these two tiny people that his and Pepper’s love had created. Then he crept from the bedroom as silently as he’d come, cautiously avoiding two stuffed bears and an overturned dump truck.

  When he returned to the master bedroom, it was to find his wife standing by the window, looking out over the darkened pasture below. Her silver hair shone as it hung down her back, contrasting beautifully with the black silk nightgown which clung lovingly to her slender body. Thor stood silently in the doorway for a moment, watching her because he loved to watch her without her awareness; it was in these unguarded moments that the depth of his love for her very nearly overwhelmed him.

  His Pepper. At thirty-two she still carried the identification card that verified her age, and still had to show it occasionally. His beloved Pepper, the gambler and cardsharp; the matchmaker and mender of lonely hearts; the lover, the wife, the mother. Pepper, eternally mysterious, eternally fascinating even to the man who knew her so well. The woman who’d stolen his heart in spite of himself and taught him to love.

  God, how he loved her….

  She turned away from the window, smiling across the room at him. “Kids still asleep?” she asked softly.

  Thor went to her, held her in an embrace which still contained incredulity because she was his and he was almost afraid to believe it. “Can’t you hear the silence?” he murmured huskily, kissing her.

  Pepper linked her fingers together behind his neck. Smiling up at him, she said, “I asked you a question just before you went out.”

  “Mmm.” He began nuzzling her throat. “I remember. You asked if I minded another something.”

  “Hostage,” Pepper murmured dreamily. “Another hostage to fortune.”

  Thor lifted his head and stared at her. “I get the feeling, beloved,” he said uneasily, “that you’re not talking about the pony Jenna wants.”

  Pepper shook her head slowly.

  “Then…you’re…?”

  “Do I have to spell it this time?” she asked solemnly.

  “Another hostage,” Thor murmured dazedly. “Diapers and three o’clock feedings and colic.”

  “Sit down, darling.”

  “Picking the right name. Fastening your shoes because you can’t reach them. Putting one of the cribs back together. Warming bottles.”

  “That’s it. Now just lie back; it’s time to go to bed, darling.”

  “Pepper,” Thor said suddenly, clearly.

  “Yes, darling?”

  “The doctor said surgery. I distinctly remember—”

  “He couldn’t be sure, darling; it’s not an ironclad rule these days that one cesarean has to follow another.”

  “Yes, but—he said you’re so small—”

  “Talking through his hat,” Pepper murmured, climbing into bed beside her prostrate husband. Cheerfully she added, “Anyway, you and Cody can pace together; I have a feeling it’ll be timed pretty closely.”

  “You mean they’re…?”

  “Think so.”

  A faintly gleeful expression stole into Thor’s eyes. “That’ll fix him. He thinks I don’t know he’s been laughing behind my back, but I do. I bet he’ll stop laughing when he has to go through it himself!”

  “I wouldn’t be a bit surprised, darling,” Pepper agreed gently. She cuddled up to her husband adoringly. “Not a bit surprised.”

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  KAY HOOPER is the award-winning author of Blood Dreams, Sleeping with Fear, Hunting Fear, Chill of Fear, Once a Thief, Always a Thief, the Evil trilogy, the Shadows trilogy, and other novels. She lives in North Carolina, where she is at work on her next book.

  Watch out for

  the second thrilling novel in

  Kay Hooper’s Blood trilogy

  BLOOD

  SINS

  by

  KAY HOOPER

  Coming from Bantam

  December 2008

  BLOOD SINS

  By Kay Hooper

  ONE

  Sarah kept to what little shadows the winter-bare trees provided as she worked her way through the forest that separated the compound from the road. The full moon made this night an uneasy one for stealth, but she hadn’t been given much choice in the matter. Waiting even another day was potentially far more dangerous than acting, so—

  She sensed more than heard a sound, and froze, her arms tightening around the sleeping child.

  “It’s just me.” Bailey appeared to step literally out of the darkness not ten feet away.

  “Are you early or am I late?” Sarah kept her voice as low as the other woman’s had been.

  “Six of one.” Bailey shrugged and crossed the space between them. “Is she out?”

  Nodding, Sarah relinquished the little girl, who was warmly dressed to protect her against the January chill. “She should sleep another couple of hours at least. Long enough.”

  “And you’re sure about her? Because we can’t keep doing this. It wasn’t part of the plan, and it’s too dangerous. Sooner or later, he’s going to figure it out.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to prevent. Or at least delay.”

  “It’s not your job, Sarah. Not the reason you’re here.”

  “Isn’t it? He’s getting better at choosing latents. Better at fin
ding them and convincing them to join him. Better than we’ve been.” Sarah was aware of a niggling unease that was growing rather than diminishing. “Speaking of, are we covered?”

  “Of course. My shield’s enclosing all three of us.”

  “What about more conventional protection?”

  “Galen’s got my back. As usual. But once we leave, you’re on your own again.”

  “I’m not worried about me.”

  “Sarah—”

  “She could be the one, Bailey.”

  “She’s six years old.”

  “All the more reason. Without the defenses we can teach her, she’s vulnerable as hell, especially to someone bent on using her as a weapon.”

  Bailey shifted the slight weight of the child and sighed. “Look, are you sure you haven’t been…influenced…by what this guy is preaching? All that prophecy stuff?”

  “We believe in prophecy stuff,” Sarah reminded her.

  “Not the kind he preaches.”

  Sarah shook her head. “Don’t worry, I’m not a convert. It’s all I can do to keep up the facade of a loyal member of the flock.”

  “Many more defections and kids disappearing, and that’s going to get a lot harder.”

  “Harder than this?” Sarah reached out a hand and lightly touched the long blond hair hanging down the child’s back. “Her mother is gone. And her father vanished day before yesterday.”

  Bailey’s mouth tightened. “You didn’t include that in the report.”

  “I wasn’t sure until today. But he’s gone. I think he was beginning to ask too many questions. He didn’t believe his wife would have just run away, not without their daughter.”

  “He was right about that.”

  Sarah had been expecting it, but the news was still an unwelcome shock. “She was found?”

  “A few miles downriver. And she’d been in the water a while, probably since the night she disappeared. No way to determine cause of death.”