Dreamwalker (Stormwalker #5)(48)

Was he talking to Drake? I certainly couldn’t move as I burned to ash.

Something hit me. I felt cool earth on my face, then another wash of pain roared through my body. I gasped and inhaled dirt.

Then I floated upward, agony dragging through me. But it was the pain of my heart beating, my blood flowing, air flushing into my lungs. My skin solidified and swept back over muscle and bone until it was whole, tight, and clean.

Sight, sound, and smell came back to me, as well as taste. I spit dirt from my mouth and blinked at the flash of fire on a pristine pair of eyeglasses.

Emmett stood in front of me, his tie not even crooked. “You back with me, Janet?”

I took a long breath—that didn’t burn—spit out more dirt, and said, “What the hell are you doing here?”

He gave me a cool smile. “I’ll take that as a yes. Fireballs smart, don’t they?”

I recalled Emmett exiting his limo after Mick had flamed it, brushing off his coat as though merely annoyed. Had his skin fried off his bones with the same searing pain I’d felt before his spell saved him?

At the moment, I wasn’t much interested. “Mick,” I choked.

Aine and Bancroft were killing him. Drake had gone dragon and even now was attacking Bancroft in Mick’s defense, but I knew it was too late.

I gathered the storm to me once more and reached for the Beneath magic, ready to blast Aine and Bancroft to dust.

“That won’t work,” Emmett said quickly. “Not with dragons. They’ll eat the storm magic, and your Beneath magic isn’t strong enough this far from the vortex.”

My hands glowed, magic pulsing through my blood, fueled by rage. “What does work? Tell me now.”

“Nothing. Dragons are hard to kill. They intake magic of all kinds and rapidly heal themselves. Only a dragon or a god can kill another dragon.”

I’d known that. But Emmett was the most powerful mage in the world. Who knew what he could do?

“Concentrate on saving Mick, not killing the dragons,” he said.

I stopped. As much as I hated taking advice from a ruthlessly dangerous man like Emmett, he was right. A fledgling Stormwalker wasn’t going to best two of the toughest dragons on the planet.

Mick, on the other hand, ate my storm magic for breakfast and declared himself stronger for it. “Help me,” I snapped at Emmett and darted forward.

I had no idea if Emmett would do anything to assist me or not. But, if it was in his best interest to see me and Mick die, why had he just saved me? And hinted at how I could save Mick?

I tamped my Beneath magic down to the tiny spark from which it had begun, then swept up lightning now happily raging above the trees. I sprinted the last distance to Mick, crackling with electricity, and ducked under the attacking dragons.

Drake had drawn off Bancroft, who screamed in fury and struck Drake with outraged intensity. Aine, on the other hand, concentrated on disemboweling Mick.

I was tempted to yell Get away from him, you bitch! But I saved my breath for what I needed to do.

I dove under Aine’s descending talons, slammed both hands to Mick’s hide, and let out the lightning.

Mick’s huge body jumped and crackled, ropes of electricity crawling all over him. Aine let go in irritation, but she drew in some of the lightning. I reached for more of the storm, laughing as it filled me, and let it all go into Mick.

Want me to draw it off? he’d always say to me, with the wicked gleam in his eyes. He’d let the residual trickle of my magic drift into his fingers as he so warmly caressed my skin.

Come on, Mick.

Mick writhed beneath Aine, lightning burning in blue arcs all over his black and red body. He rolled onto his back, one talon coming up, and sliced into Aine’s white hide.

She shrieked and beat the air, rising just high enough to be out of his reach. Red blood poured from her belly, hot droplets raining down on my skin.

Mick gathered more strength. He struck at Aine again, but she danced out of the way, bellowing in pain and fury. Mick’s wing lay broken at his side—he couldn’t fly to fight her.

Aine, as though realizing what I was doing, swung from Mick and aimed at me. Her fireball came at me, and I threw up my hands, as though that would deflect it.

A second stream of fire cut across Aine’s, sending it sideways into the woods. Drake had come to my rescue. Again, the trees caught, and again, a spell slammed it out. Not my magic this time, but Emmett’s.

Aine, thoroughly enraged, wheeled on her outstretched wings, avoided another line of Mick’s fire, and went after Drake.

“Mick!” I shouted.

He was surrounded by lightning, the red in his dragon hide pulsating like his tatts did when he was human. His head came around, great black dragon eyes pinning me. I read vast pain in them and also vast anger. Mick was seriously pissed off at me.