Dragon Awakened(44)

“Mon’s phone showed a call from Brom a short time before he called me to come over. And he did warn me that seeing Brom was dangerous.”

“So maybe Mr. Smith was spying on Brom and heard whatever it is that’s brought him back to Miami. He couldn’t kill Brom so he sent a parasitic demon instead. He does kill Moncrief because he knows too much. And that could be why you’re a target, too.” The thought of them hunting her tightened his chest. “But why is he trying so hard? It’s not like you’ve gone to the Guard or Concilium to report anything.”

She gripped the door handle. “If I get my hands—or talons—on him first, I’ll kill him.”

“Remember what I said about letting emotion drive you. I’ve seen revenge backfire when fury gets the best of someone.”

As they drove through Brom’s old neighborhood, Ruby did a double take at a man walking his dog on the sidewalk. “That man was a Crescent. I saw that mist swirling in his eyes.”

“They tend to congregate in the same areas, like the Cubans, Haitians, and any peoples of a different culture do. For us, it lessens the chance of accidentally exposing our magick to a Mundane. And minimizes people wondering why you don’t age.”

“Why did your former boss call you? Why not call the assassin?”

“He figured I might know where he is.”

“What is he like? A vicious killer. Cold. A Dragon, right?”

“Yes to all the above.” He slowed down in front of a gated entrance similar to his. “Crescents also value privacy. Many of us bought our properties before the big boom. We’ve had a long time to cultivate hedges and other privacy measures.”

“I vaguely remember coming here. Mon was usually here, too.”

Cyn drove past the closed gate and pulled in to a public beach access. “We’ll come in from the back. Just in case.” He reached beneath the seat and pulled out an ornate wooden stick that was about a hundred years old.

“What’s that?” she asked as she got out.

“Walking stick.”

It didn’t have a hooked handle like a cane, only a rounded knob at the top that was a perfect fit for his hand.

She came around and met him at the front of the car. “I saw you teaching cane fighting. I’ve never heard of that.”

He flipped the stick and pressed it across her collarbone. “I want to teach you some of the basics. It’s a great weapon, one you can take everywhere.”

She plucked the stick from his grip, hefting it in her hands. “Why would I want to use this when I can become a snarling beast with fangs?”

“Because you can’t do that just anyplace. Even in the dark there’s a chance of being spotted.”

They walked toward the beach, and she ran her fingers down the length of the stick. She might as well have been stroking him again because he could feel her fingers. But it wasn’t his back that he wanted her to touch.

Maybe she was thinking the same thing because she abruptly handed it back to him. “We’re not ugly. You were right; we’re magnificent. If I don’t say so myself.”

He smiled though she couldn’t see it. “Indeed. There’s a rocky history between Deuces and Dragons. The fighting goes back to the gods, who argued about who was the first to hold magick and whose magick was better. They see us as drooling, stinky beasts, and we see them as pompous douche bags.” He didn’t pardon his French.

“Is that why Mon hated you?”

“Part of it.” He found it almost impossible to deceive her. What the hell was wrong with him?

Moonlight shimmered across the water, calling him to fly. He’d fallen a step behind her so he could keep an eye on anything that might sneak up on them. Their feet made shush-shush sounds as they trudged through the thick sand. Ruby had braided her hair though he liked it better loose. The braid probably represented her need for control and order. And her hair was pretty wild. He could easily imagine his fingers tangled in it as he tugged her closer. He remembered burying his face in it, smelling the apple scent of her shampoo. He shifted his gaze seaward again because looking at Ruby in the moonlight called to him even harder than the prospect of flying did.

Not her. Anyone but her. Because he would make good on that promise and introduce her to the man who killed her parents.

She followed his gaze to the waves rolling in only a few feet away. “You were a pirate, weren’t you?”

Her question surprised him. “Why do you ask that?”

She stopped and faced him, and the moonlight kissed her cheeks, casting her eyes in shadow. “The pirate memorabilia you have all over your dojo. If you’re that old—”