Dead Men Walking: Dragonblood, #2

By Raquel Lyon

Piper thought her father’s disappearance was her biggest problem until she met Lambert and discovered her whole life had been a lie. But in the small town of Fosswell everyone lies, even the ones who are supposed to be dead.

When one particular empty coffin unearths a past heartache, Piper wants to help despite the fact that her magical interference could lead to trouble. Her training isn’t going as well as she hoped, and Lambert is a tough taskmaster. He’s also stubborn, annoying, undeniably cute, and itching to leave. So when another clue to her father’s whereabouts points to Lambert’s homeland, Piper is eager to discover if it could provide the answer to both their problems.

Dead Men Walking is book two in the Dragonblood trilogy, which can be read as a seperate story arc or as a follow on from the Foxblood trilogy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Raquel Lyon
• Release date: Jul 17, 2016
• ISBN: 9781533719317

Book preview

Chapter One

––––––––

WAKING TO FIND HER bed on fire wasn’t an unusual occurrence for Piper, but it was beginning to annoy her.

She pulled the residual flames back into her palms and stood on the bed to waft the smoke alarm until it stopped wailing, embarrassed that everyone else in the house was getting yet another early morning wake-up call. They were probably as fed up with it as she was. She was also fed up with the sleepless nights and dreams of being burnt alive—especially considering that the first time it happened, she almost had been—but with the dragon’s breath raining down in her nightmare, her scream had ensured that Lambert came running.

Thinking about Lambert always brought a smile to her face and a twist to her heart, and he’d been on her mind rather more than he should have been, recently. She often reflected on how strange it was that someone could enter your life and totally commandeer it. The likelihood of him being her half-brother was something she’d struggled to come to terms with, but one she’d grown to accept. His strict schedule of training and naps, however, sometimes had her wishing he was a bed sheet.

She climbed from her bed and crossed the luxuriously piled carpet of her room at Lovell Towers to slide up the window sash and let in some air in an attempt to get rid of the acrid smell. A sharp winter breeze blew through the gap, promising rain, and in the distance, the clouds were already gathering above the hills. As she looked out over the extensive grounds of her temporary address, frustration tainted her happiness.

It was a beautiful building with its high walls, turreted roofline, and many rooms. The owners, Sophie and Sebastian, had been nothing but kind in allowing her and Lambert to stay, but it wasn’t home. Home had always been a small shop in the centre of town, filled to the brim with curiosities from years gone by. She could see her father now, bursting through the door, excited by his latest find from a house clearance or the local flea market, or hunched over the counter, his beard almost touching the page as he meticulously catalogued every purchase.

But those days were gone.

This was her life now.

The discovery that you descended from an ancient race of witches should be an exciting revelation for any seventeen-year-old girl, and for Piper, it had been—for about a second—before she found out it came with pitfalls. Burning sheets was one of them. Thank goodness she’d invested some of her recent windfall in a cabinet full of flame-retardant linen—which might not ignite, but did melt in rather large holes and leave a godawful smell.

Returning to the task at hand, she bundled her bed sheets for the bin and counted the days since she’d unknowingly drained her magic. With Lambert insisting she refrain from channelling any of her power until she grew stronger, boredom had been quick to follow. His orders had resulted in far too many hours spent in the Towers’ library, researching the theory when what she was really itching to do was start on the practical. But Lambert had grown up in a world of magic. He knew its technicalities and understood the consequences of its overuse. Piper had to trust he knew what he was doing.

When he’d finally allowed her to start training again, the wish to rid herself of her current affliction had been at the top of her checklist, yet despite extensive study, nightly bakings remained on the menu.

She barely had time to remake the bed and get dressed before there was a knock on the door, and as usual, Lambert entered without waiting for it to be answered. He glanced at the crumpled material spilling out of the waste bin with a frown, and Piper readied herself for a barrage of criticism, but instead, he chose not to comment, and his frown changed to a smile.

I have a gift for you, he said.

You do? Piper beamed. I love presents. What did you get me?

Actually... nothing, but... His spring-green eyes sparkled as if sprinkled with morning dew as he brought his hand out from behind his back with a grin. There was a drawstring pouch dangling from his fingers. It looked just like...

Did you take that from my drawer? Piper asked, a mixture of disappointment and anger tainting her voice.

I cannot deny... I did.

The pouch was one of the items left to her by her father. It contained nothing more than a few pieces of broken ceramics, but that didn’t mean Lambert could just help himself. You’ve been sneaking around in my stuff?

My apologies, but I saw the contents on your bed that first night, and I was curious.

Why?

His grin widened. Open it.

Piper took the pouch from him. It was much fatter than before, and no longer rattled. She opened the top.

Careful, Lambert said.

Puzzled as to quite what he meant, Piper gently squeezed out the item it contained into her palm. The previously fragmented white and gold enamel now had form. It was an egg—not elaborate enough for it to be Fabergé, but just as pretty—and holding it up to the light caused sections to glimmer with a silvery opalescence.

You fixed it for me? she said. It’s beautiful.

I believe it to be Voltignian.

Piper ran her fingers over the patterned surface. The shape was seamless, with nothing to suggest it had been formed in a mould, and it was as light as a paper cup. Whoever made it was very talented.

It was not made; it was laid.

Laid?

If I am not mistaken, yes. Our schooling taught us how to identify Voltignis eggs, but I will admit, I have never seen one quite like that particular specimen. Lambert sat on the bed and leaned back leisurely as Piper studied the egg closer. Why do you suppose our father had it in his possession?

I’ve no idea, but it must be important if he left it to me. Piper took it over to the dressing table to place it with the rest of her strange acquisitions. All of the items had belonged to her father. He’d kept them in a cabinet at the shop—his personal collection, ‘never to be sold’, he’d warned. She’d brought a few of them with her to offer some comfort in his absence, and it was only when Lambert had entered her life that she had discovered their true origin.

As she thought of her father, she stroked her finger over the egg again, and her hand froze. Around her, the room darkened. Her muscles cramped, and a wave of nausea rippled through her as she swayed on the spot, a swirling mist blurring the edges of her vision. In the centre of the mist was a familiar scene. The man had his back to her as he studied a scroll laid out on a wooden table. He rolled it up, stuck it under his arm, and started to turn. The breath left Piper’s body and her head snapped back. Lambert caught her before she fell.

Piper? Piper, speak to me!

Her eyes blinked once, and with one extended gasp of air, the image was torn from her. She stared into Lambert’s concerned eyes.

Was that what I think it was? he asked.

Um... yes. Yes, I think so.

Lambert eased her over to sit on the bed. What did you see?

Um... Dad... maybe.

Surely, you would know. You are the one who has been with him these past years.

Piper took deep breaths as her dizziness subsided. Lambert always knew exactly how to make her feel as if she’d done something wrong. It wasn’t her fault he’d never known their father, and if she hadn’t saved his life, he wouldn’t now have the chance. Was it too much to ask that he show some gratitude for the possibility?

It wasn’t clear, she said, finally. There was definitely a grey-haired man wearing Chimmerian clothes, but I couldn’t see his face.

Next time, look harder. If our father has found a way to send you visions, we need to know.

Do you think he was trying to communicate with me? she asked, wondering how that could be possible when, as far as her father had been aware, she knew nothing of her lineage—although it would make sense, she supposed, to leave behind a way to get in touch. From what little she’d learned of the other dimension, it was doubtful there were telephones there.

I feel it more likely than the alternative, Lambert said.

Which is? Piper asked as she pushed to her feet to run a comb through her hair. She’d spotted another bit of melted sheet stuck in it, and it wasn’t a good look. If she didn’t banish her fiery nights soon, she was going to have to dye her blonde hair brown to prevent any stray debris standing out.

That you have a power very few Divimagi possess.

What power?

The power of sight.

You mean seeing the future?

Have you?

No.

Hmm. As I said, the first option is the most plausible one.

He would think that. Despite Piper’s best efforts over the last few days, Lambert remained unimpressed by her magical prowess, and quite frankly, so did she. If her experiences so far were anything to go by, the likelihood of her having a rare power was laughable. When it came down to it, she was a pretty pathetic witch.

Well, if he wants to tell me something, he’s going to have to work harder on his communication skills, because I got nothing from that.

Chapter Two

––––––––

PIPER FOLLOWED LAMBERT downstairs with a bounce in her step. Any day that started out with presents was bound to be a good one.

Morning, Todd, she called to Sophie’s younger brother, catching him on his way out of the door. He tipped them a wordless salute before he closed it.

A delicious smell of toast greeted her in the kitchen. Sophie was busy washing dishes in the Belfast sink, and Sebastian was sipping on a cup of coffee as he read the morning paper—at least, Piper hoped it was coffee. When he placed his cup down, the thick dregs had a decidedly red tinge to them.

Sophie turned her back to the sink to dry her hands, and the morning sunlight brought out the red highlights in her hair. The usual? she asked.

Thank you, madam, Lambert answered for them both, settling onto a stool at the central island.

Piper watched Sophie open a box of eggs and crack them into a pan. Can I help?

Sophie smiled. Haven’t I told you to stop asking?

I know, but I don’t want you to think I’m treating your home as a hotel.

This is a big house. Big houses need people to fill them, and we’ve already lost too many.

At her words, Sebastian folded his paper and rose to kiss his wife goodbye. They made a sweet couple, but Piper caught the look that passed between them. There was hurt there and something else. She wondered what secret they shared, but the moment vanished as a click of heels grew louder in the corridor outside and Sophie’s friend, Beth, appeared in the doorway.

Just thought I’d pop in on the way to work, she said, her brown curls bouncing as she climbed onto Sebastian’s vacated stool. How’s the training progressing?

Slowly, Piper answered. To be honest, I’m bored. She cast Lambert a sideways glance, hoping he hadn’t taken her words to mean she was bored with him, but as usual, his dark head was bowed over his plate, and he was too busy eating to notice anything else going on around him. Ever since his release from his prison world, he seemed to spend most of his time stuffing his face. With the speed he could guzzle a plate of scrambled eggs, and goodness knew how many pieces of toast, it was a wonder he wasn’t the size of the grand piano in the ballroom.

I wish I could help, Beth said, but one of my colleagues has gone down with the flu, and guess who got stuck teaching her class?

Piper offered up a weak smile. She was glad Beth was otherwise occupied. Their previous sessions together had always seemed to involve some form of pain. It’s fine, she said. It’s just frustrating when Lambert’s magic seems so different to mine.

In what way? Beth asked, intrigued.

I make things move; he makes them dance. I force a flower to bloom; he grows a tree in the middle of the flipping dance floor! I can’t do that. The only thing I’ve ever conjured up is fire. She leaned to whisper in Beth’s ear. And to be honest, I think fire scares him.

Lambert forced his stool away from the island and stood abruptly. Fire has been the enemy of our land for centuries. Had you ever been there, you would understand. His eyes lowered as he took a calming breath. When you have finished surmising my character, I shall expect you in the ballroom.

Piper winced a little as she watched him leave. Annoying him was the last thing she wanted to do. He’d been her constant companion for over a week, and not once in that time had he mentioned his home. He’d focused on her needs, her recuperation, and she had to admit, she had, too. Her magic was all so new to her, and she was grateful for his guidance, but only this moment did she realise she’d been selfish and not given a thought to how he might be feeling. Maybe it was because she’d been so intent upon making him a permanent fixture in her life, or maybe it was because she wanted to hang on to the only family she had left, but she’d never stopped to think that he might wish to leave.

He’ll calm down, Sophie said. They always do.

I wish I had your confidence. Piper pushed her plate to the side. I’d better go. Thanks for breakfast.

When she got to the ballroom, Lambert was pacing the floor, awaiting her arrival. Weak winter light filtered down in beams from the rows of high windows lining either side of the room, and he followed the pattern they created along the wooden floor as he walked. At the far end, the table covered with ingredients Beth had prepared for them to train with held a few extra bottles filled with Piper’s first attempts at potion-making, the previous day. It hadn’t been a success. The bottle containing her hair growth potion now sported a rather long beard trailing over the edge of the table, and she suspected the one whizzing around the ceiling was her speed potion. Finding it very distracting, she homed in on it and compelled it to fly into her hand before smashing it to the floor. Potion-making was definitely not her forte.

At the sound of the glass breaking, Lambert turned to face her. She opened her mouth to apologise for her earlier comment, but closed it again when he spoke first.

We will start with some defensive work today, he said matter-of-factly.