Fire Storm

By Val St. Crowe

City of Dragons, Book Two

Penny Caspian here. Another day, another dead dragon shifter in Sea City. This one’s Fletcher Remington, a rich playboy who enjoyed surfing and heroin until he disappeared without a trace. Detective Lachlan Flint and I are on the case, mixing it up with the upper crust to find out what happened to him.

Speaking of Lachlan and me—we’re in a holding pattern. He’s afraid to get close to me, because he’s apparently so mesmerized by the taste of my blood that he’s afraid he’ll lose control and hurt me. I keep saying that I can take care of myself, but it’s like he’s deaf.

And the one time he does actually get swept up in the moment and kiss me again, my ex shows up. Yeah, the abusive jerk has powerful magic now—I don’t know from where—and he’s got no qualms about using it to beat me senseless and pummel Lachlan too.

My ex wants me back, but that’s never going to happen.

• Language: English
• Publisher: V. J. Chambers
• Release date: May 4, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463040041

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Wait, I don’t get it, said Connor Beckett, folding his arms over his chest. Connor was a gargoyle, and his uniform polo shirt stretched tight over his gray, chiseled-looking chest. He had wings too. Let’s go over all of this again.

Again? I said. I might have thought Connor was attractive, but he was gay, for one thing. For another thing, he was my employee. The uniform he was wearing had the name of my hotel emblazoned on its front pocket: the Purple Dolphin Hotel and Suites. And finally, he was like the kid brother I never had. It would have been incestuous to think he was attractive. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t. He was living stone, like some kind of walking, talking work of art. I have explained this numerous times. On numerous occasions.

Yeah, but it still doesn’t make any sense. He lounged against the main desk in the lobby of the hotel.

I was on the other side. Ostensibly, I was doing rounds to make sure that everything was okay in the hotel. Last month, we’d been deluged with spring breakers, and it had been a bit chaotic. Things had calmed down again, but it was only the lull before the storm of summer season. Anyway, the lack of action meant that I could spend time gabbing with Connor.

I sighed. It doesn’t have to make sense. It’s none of your business, anyway.

Girl, please, he said, shaking his head at me. You need my advice on your love life.

"I don’t have a love life."

Which is why you need me.

I rolled my eyes. "No, I don’t. I’m not ready for anything serious. Neither is he. That’s all."

But let’s go over this kiss again, hmm?

No. I was sulking, but if I’d really been that annoyed, I would have just walked out of the room. The truth was that it was nice to have something a little bit silly like a burgeoning romance to talk about with my friend.

You said it was all cinematic, like the camera panned back to show the sky and the sea and—

I didn’t say anything like that. You’re inventing all of this.

But it was an amazing kiss?

It was fine.

Fine? He made a pfft noise. It was way more than fine. For days afterward, you were practically glowing.

"I was not." I did not glow. Maybe that was something I used to do, but all of that was in the past.

Look, I’m just saying that you like him, and he likes you, so why aren’t you guys like an official couple by now? How long ago was that kiss?

I don’t know how long it was.

I think it’s been a month and a half, he said.

Now I was starting to get a little perturbed. Maybe it was because I hadn’t realized how long ago it had actually been. Look, we kissed, and it was nice, but after it was over, we were both pretty freaked out, and we agreed that we weren’t ready for it, and we decided we’d take a step back. I mean, neither of us have the best of luck in relationships, you know.

All the more reason to get back in the saddle, said Connor. Erase all the bad juju.

My ex-husband Alastair had been abusive. We were both dragon shifters, and we had a mating bond. That meant I was inexplicably drawn to him, even though he hurt me.

And Lachlan Flint, the other side of this kiss, had it even worse. His marriage had broken up when his stepson had shot both him and his four-year-old daughter. The little girl had died, but Lachlan’d had vampire blood in his system, so he’d come back as a vampire. He was completely destroyed over it, and when he said he wasn’t ready for a relationship, I absolutely understood.

But had it really been a month and a half?

Honestly, said Connor, he hasn’t even been around all that much lately.

I think he got pulled in on doing spring break duty. Running around busting loud parties, that kind of thing, I said. He hasn’t needed my expertise. I was the magical creatures consultant to the Sea City Police Department, and Lachlan was the officer who handled the magical creatures cases. Since the big serial killer case in March, things had been relatively quiet.

Or maybe he’s avoiding you, said Connor.

I glared at him. You know that lack of a filter on your mouth? You might think of developing one.

He shrugged. Sorry. I can’t help it. Stuff just flies out. Anyway, I don’t mean he’s avoiding you because he regrets the kiss or anything. Because any straight guy out there would be lucky to kiss you.

I couldn’t help but melt a little. Aw, that’s sweet, Connor.

I’m serious. And I know he likes you. I just think that he’s afraid of commitment or something.

Well, I am too, I said. Anyway, why are we talking about me and my pitiful lack of a love life? You’re the one who’s had guys in and out of here the past few weeks.

Connor looked embarrassed. Just ‘cause of all the spring breakers, he said. Lots of young, unattached, hot guys. He got a wistful look in his eye. And now it’s May, and they’re all gone.

I reached across the desk to pat him on the arm. Oh, I’m sorry.

He turned sorrowful eyes on me. I know. It’s the saddest thing in the world, really.

I couldn’t help but laugh a little.

He stuck a finger in my face. Hey, it’s not funny. And besides, I’d much rather find someone that I really connected with, instead of just a string of drunken hook-ups, you know?

I nodded. I know. You will.

You and Felicity both are off the market now, and I’m all alone, still.

Hey, I said. First of all, not off the market. Taking it slow—month-and-a-half slow, as you just pointed out. And secondly, you are never alone. I’m always here for you. And so is Felicity, in her own, very preoccupied, way. Felicity was my best friend. She was newly in a live-in relationship with a vampire named Jensen. We never saw her these days, because she was too busy making googly eyes at her new beau.

Connor giggled. She is so dick whipped.

Eew, I said. Can you not be so crude, please?

Um, I’m going to be crude, said Connor. That filter thing?

I sighed. You know what, I really am leaving to go check the hotel.

What? he said.

I started out of the lobby, waving as I went.

You can’t handle a little dick? he called after me.

I cringed.

* * *

The shell was ringing.

I was lying on a towel on the beach, soaking up the rays, holding a beautiful conch shell up to my ear, and it was ringing.

No.

That wasn’t a shell.

It was my phone.

And I wasn’t on the beach. I was in my bed, dreaming of shells and beaches and—

I sat up, grabbing my phone off the bedside table. Felicity? I said into the receiver. Did he hurt you?

It’s Lachlan, said the soft Texas drawl of the voice on the other end of the phone.

My stomach turned over. Oh, I said. Hi. Um, how are you?

Good, he said. "How are you? Did I wake you? You sound half asleep."

No, I’ve been up for hours, I said. What time is it?

It’s only eight-thirty, he said. I know you sleep in.

I cleared my throat. Okay, I was asleep. Why had I lied to him? I didn’t want him to think I was a lazy person who slept in late, I guessed. Um, it’s good to hear from you.

Silence.

Crap. Should I have said that?

There’s a case, he said.

Oh, I said. So, that’s why you’re calling. Of course it’s why you’re calling. I mean, why else would you—

Penny, I’m sorry I… When we talked before, I thought we were on the same page, he said.

We are, I said. Taking it slow. Slow like a glacier. I’m cool with it. It’s what I want. I cleared my throat again. Damn, maybe I should shower and have coffee before trying to put together sentences.

He was quiet again.

So, um— I started.

"Have you ever read Jane Eyre?" he said at the same time.

Um, that’s by one of the Brontes?

Charlotte, he said. Jane and Mr. Rochester are kept apart because of all of his horrible secrets—

But we don’t have anymore secrets, I said.

Look, the point is that it isn’t so easy, he said. You can’t simply jump from one kiss to happily ever after—

Stop, I said. I’m not accusing you of anything.

‘Like a glacier?’ he repeated pointedly.

It was my turn to be quiet.

If I had my crazy wife locked upstairs in my attic, then you would understand why I was hesitant to jump into anything, he said.

What? Your wife is crazy?

He sighed. "That’s from Jane Eyre."

Oh. I considered. Maybe I didn’t read that one.

Oh, sorry, he said. That’s kind of a major spoiler. Still, with a book that’s been out a hundred years, the ending’s kind of out there, don’t you think? I mean, were you really ever going to read it?

Lachlan, let’s just talk about the case.

Sure, he said. So, it’s dragons, and I definitely need you.

Dragons? I sat up straighter in bed.

Yeah, missing persons, officially, he said. But the family is convinced that it’s murder, and since they’re very well off and donate lots of money to the police department, we’re going to go down there and treat their suspicions with respect.

Sure, I said. Who is it? Who’s missing?

Uh… His voice got distant for a second. Probably taking his phone away from his ear to check his notes. Fletcher Remington. Ring any bells?

Not really, I said. I know the Remington name and reputation, but not Fletcher per se.

That’s okay, he said. I’m heading up to talk to the family now. I’ll pick you up?

Oh, I said. Okay, sure. I needed to get in the shower. When will you be here?

Maybe fifteen minutes?

Crap. Bring coffee, please, I told him, and I hung up.

CHAPTER TWO

When Lachlan got there, my hair was still wet from the shower. He strode up the sidewalk to the lobby, holding a cardboard cup of coffee from a convenience store. He was wearing a suit and a silk green tie that fluttered in the ocean breeze. His sunglasses obscured his expression.

Still, seeing him again after so long, I was struck by how attractive he was. He had a dimpled chin and a straight nose. He could have been a male model. He was perfection.

I swallowed.

He held out the coffee like a peace offering.

I took it.

He pulled off his sunglasses.

My breath caught in my throat. His good looks dazzled me.

I guess I should have called before this, he said. I’m sorry. I really am.

I waved his apology away and took a drink of the coffee. Ooh. Black and bitter. I recoiled.

Oh! He felt around in his pockets and yanked out handfuls of creamers and sugar packets.

Thank you, I said, snatching them. You know me so well.

He smirked.

We gazed at each other for a minute. I remembered the kiss. It hadn’t been the only kiss. There had been more kisses on another night. Lachlan had been drunk, and we had vowed to forget it ever happened. And that was to say nothing of the two times he’d… bitten me, which had been an intense and powerful experience, one that I’d actually liked, even though I was ashamed to admit it.

But we didn’t talk about that.

He reached out and tucked a wet strand of hair behind my ear. You look…

I peered up at him.

He yanked his hand back and turned away from me.

I bit down on my bottom lip. I looked like a drowned rat. Maybe I should have blow-dried my hair before he got there, but there hadn’t been time.

Damn it, Penny, he muttered. And then he started walking for his car, not even looking behind himself to see if I was coming along.

I trailed after him.

He got in the car, and I followed suit.

Once we were on the road, I began adding sugar packets and creamers to my coffee. I watched as the scenery streamed by. On the right hand side, the ocean view was blocked out by huge twenty-story hotels. On the left hand side, there were restaurants and strip malls and gas stations.

So, this Fletcher Remington person, I said, sipping my now-delicious coffee. Does he have a mate?

No, he still lives with his parents, said Lachlan. I got the impression he was young, but you never know exactly with dragons.

We dragons had a long life span. We tended to live until we were three hundred or so. Dragons who weren’t mated were all considered young, even if they were nearly a hundred years old.

So, an unmated dragon is missing and his parents think he’s dead, I said.

Yeah, they seem pretty certain of it, he said. Can’t figure out why they’d be so sure unless maybe they’re involved.

Well, I said, in a case like this, the family generally assumes a slayer got the family member if they don’t hear from them in a while and they can’t get in touch with them. That was what had happened to my parents, near as we knew.

I suppose I wasn’t taking into consideration how often that happens to dragons. He glanced at me quickly. I’m sorry.

Slayers aren’t your fault, I said. But no one ever catches them either, so people don’t usually bother to call in the police.

They’re probably calling us in because of all the publicity around the Dragon Slasher case, he said.

I guess we are kind of high profile, I said. Maybe the family thinks that the people who caught the serial killer taking out dragon girls will be able to take out a slayer too. In March, we’d put Anthony Barnes away for killing three young dragon females. He was a drake who’d been using them as meat that regenerated.

Drakes were people who’d ingested dragon flesh—a popular street drug that conveyed magical powers and a feeling of invincibility on the user—and then died with it in their system. They turned into half-dragon, half-human hybrids, sporting scales and claws, and they had an insatiable desire for meat. Many were addicted to dragon flesh and would go to extremes to get more.

My best friend Felicity was a drake, but she never ate dragon, only animal meat. She liked it rare.

Lachlan groaned. I doubt it.

Doubt what?

If this is a slayer, we’re never going to crack the case.

No?

They never leave any evidence, he said. They cut up the dragon’s body and sell it.

Vampires would pay for the blood. Drakes for the flesh. Mages would take the scales, bones, and claws to make talismans.

I grimaced, feeling itchy under my skin. My kind was hunted. It made me feel like less than a person sometimes.

We can do it, I said. We can catch this killer.

Maybe he’s not even dead, said Lachlan. Maybe he ran away from home, and we’ll hunt him down, and that will be that.

* * *

We arrived at the summer home of the Remington family, which was tucked into a beautifully landscaped corner of a tasteful housing development to the north of Sea City. All the dragons lived up north here, near the border of Delaware. The south part of the city was where the drakes, vampires, and mages concentrated. Sea City had a reputation as a place friendly to magical creatures.

The house was covered in wooden siding that had been stained dark brown. It managed to looked subdued, almost cozy, even though it was practically the size of my hotel. That display of tasteful extravagance was typical amongst dragons.

Once, it had been my world, but now I didn’t fit in here at all.

Lachlan knocked on the door.

It was answered by a woman in a maid’s uniform. She took us around the house and out back, where there was an oval-shaped pool flanked by bamboo-slat chairs.

There was a pavilion set up next to the pool, and Fletcher’s parents, Viola and Richard Remington, sat beneath it, a breakfast spread set out on a rustic-looking wicker table.

The detectives are here, said the maid.

Both Richard and Viola stood up, wiping their mouths with snowy white cloth napkins.

They shook our hands.

So good of you to come, said Richard.

We’ve heard all about the good work you did with the tragic case earlier this spring, said Viola.

Guessed Lachlan was right, then.

Won’t you sit down? said Richard, gesturing to two seats opposite their table.

We sat.

Lachlan took off his sunglasses, tucked them inside his suit jacket, and lounged in the chair. He gazed over the Remingtons’ heads, at the ocean in the distance. So, this son of yours who’s missing. Is he in trouble a lot?

I was surprised by the way he’d brought up such a painful subject, and by his casual demeanor. But I figured it was calculated. Lachlan was good at getting people to spill their secrets. It wasn’t any magical ability, just an uncanny effect he had on other people. He was a good detective.

Viola clutched her napkin. Excuse me? She was obviously offended.

Lachlan sat up in his chair and gazed into her eyes. You know, I’ve taken parents to identify the bodies of their children before, he said softly. More times than I can count.

Viola drew back. Listen, we were under the impression that—

You know how many of them come back for a second look? How many of them ask the attendant to pull the sheet back one more time, so that they can look at that face again? he said.

We obviously don’t, said Richard in a tight voice.

Viola’s face was ashen.

Almost all of them, Lachlan said, focusing on the ocean again. It’s not because it’s the last time they’re going to see their baby’s face again, it’s because they’re hoping that if they look again, that it won’t be true, that they won’t see their child lying there, they’ll see some stranger. They want—even in the face of damning evidence—for it not to be true.

Viola put a hand over her mouth. I don’t understand why we’re—

Let me be clear then, Mrs. Remington. Lachlan turned back to her. Your son is only missing. There’s no body been found. There’s no evidence at all that he’s dead. And yet you called the station because your boy was murdered. That reads oddly to me. I can’t think of one parent who’d be convinced that her son was dead without evidence. Unless, of course, she had some sort of inside knowledge of what happened to him.

Viola’s eyes widened. You can’t be saying that you think… She looked at her husband. That you suspect…?

I think maybe you should leave, said Richard, and his voice had a dragon-y rumble to it.

Lachlan didn’t look afraid. He didn’t make any move to get up. Why are you so sure he’s dead?

We aren’t sure, said Viola. But we can’t find him anywhere, not since last weekend. And it isn’t like him, not to come home. He might sometimes leave for a few nights, but he always calls to say he won’t be back. We can’t get in touch with him.

And his cell phone, said Richard. We tried to trace it, but it’s nowhere to be found. He still seemed angry. Honestly, we came to you for help, not to be accused of—

I’m sorry, sir, said Lachlan, but I wouldn’t be any kind of detective if I wasn’t thorough.

That’s true, I suppose, said Viola. She reached over for her husband’s hand. We just want him back. Do you really think he might be alive?

I think that until we can find any evidence of his death, we should think positively, said Lachlan.

But there won’t be evidence, said Richard. This is obviously a slayer. What else could it have been?

A kidnapping? said Lachlan. You have some accumulated assets. He gestured. Perhaps someone wants a payoff.

They’d have contacted us by now, said Richard. Now, if you aren’t going to search for this slayer—

Maybe he’s right, said Viola, looking hopeful. Maybe Fletcher is alive.

Do you have a recent photograph of him? said Lachlan. Something we could use to show people during our inquiries?

Richard and Viola looked at each other. Maybe inside, there might be something, she said.

On my phone, said Richard. "I don’t know about any physical photographs.

Digital is fine, said Lachlan. You can text it to me. Could we look at his room?

* * *

Fletcher’s bed wasn’t made. The covers were in a ball in the center of the bed, tangled up