Chapter Six

Magnus

With my pledge to Jade ringing in my ears, I stayed well away from my father. He'd leave town tomorrow, allowing me time to not just get her out of there, but to utilize my freshly made keys. My plan sounded easy. Free her. Get the dirt on my old man, bring him down.

Easy peasy.

Right.

Should he catch even a whiff of treachery on my part, he'd sic his goons on me so fast I'd never get clear in time. Nor would he give up looking for me. I could fly to the Himalayas and set up housekeeping in Kathmandu, and he'd still find me.

"First things first," I muttered as I drove away from the warehouse. "I gotta have a safe place to take her."

I'd need an abandoned house that wasn't already occupied by squatters, and mostly intact. Renting a place was out of the question. Arnaud needed only hours to locate us with my name on a lease. Fortunately, due to the recession, many people foreclosed, then left their houses. I drove to one of those neighborhoods where houses were in plenty and occupants few.

"I need a garage, too," I murmured, driving up and down the dilapidated streets.

Empty houses were in abundance, yet I spotted signs that squatters, mostly meth heads, lived within them. I read graffiti signs, observed the homeless walking the streets with carts of their belongings. Some homes were in such disrepair entire roofs had caved in. I whistled through my teeth as I drove slowly down a narrow avenue, covetous eyes gazing longingly at my truck.

"What do we have here?"

I parked at the curb of an intact, single-story house with a brick chimney, windows broken out of their frames. It didn't have graffiti tacked on, nor were there any homes occupied nearby. I watched the area for several long moments but saw only feral cats wandering the street.

Locking my truck, I ambled to the house and tried the door. Locked. Not wanting to attract attention, if there were any eyes to see, I strolled around back, my hands in my pockets. As though I belonged there. The backyard had long since gone to weeds, dead and dry at this time of year. The heads scraped my jeans as I walked through them and onto the back porch.

This lock had been busted.

Going inside, I searched first for any squatters. Cautious, I stalked from the rear kitchen to the front room where the fireplace sat, and the few bedrooms down the hall. I breathed in the stink of mice and cat piss, stirred up noxious dust, but the only squatters were a pair of orange tabbies who stood their ground and growled at me.

"Knock it off," I said. "I'm not bothering you. And if you're nice, maybe I'll buy you some tuna."

The rooms still had some furniture. Dusty, dirty, but possibly useable. In a pinch. Leaving the cats, I returned to the kitchen to examine the basement, hoping the cats had already cleaned out the rat population. The wooden stairs creaked as I carefully went down. Without electricity, I couldn't turn on any lights, but the sunlight from the tiny windows gave enough light to see by.

"Maybe this could work," I murmured, gazing at the piles of broken furniture, stacks of wood in tall piles. "Burn this shit to keep warm."

There was enough plywood to cover the busted windows, thus keep the cold at bay. And keep us safe from prying eyes. I didn't bother to wonder why no other squatters had taken up residence and simply blessed my luck at finding it. Going in search of nails and a hammer, I found both in the garage.

Whistling as I worked, I nailed the plywood over the windows, darkening the house considerably. The work took most of the day, but as I couldn't free Jade from her prison until after Arnaud departed, I'd little else to do with my time. The house grew colder as the day wore on, my dragon's instincts warning me of a cold front arriving soon. I suspected that with a fire going, this little house would stay fairly warm. Comfortable, anyway.

"Clean up some of this dust," I muttered, "some mattresses and blankets by the fire, easy peasy."

As I left the house by the back door, I mentally ticked off things we'd need while hiding there. A camp stove, gas, food, cooking pans, water, don't forget water, changes of clothes, the garage is cold enough to serve as a fridge.

I rounded the house in time to see a pair of teenagers using a slim jim to pry open my truck's door.

"Hey," I yelled, running across the dead lawn. "Get away from my truck."

The kids bolted. I chased them only a short distance, not really trying to catch them. Only to make sure they didn't come back or think they could beat me in a fight and steal my truck. They rounded a corner and vanished from my sight.

"Pricks," I muttered, trotting back to my pickup.

Examining my door and window, it didn't appear they'd done any damage. I unlocked it, glanced around for any neighborhood observers, and saw none. That didn't mean they weren't there. Climbing inside, wondering if I'd have to evict squatters when I returned with Jade, I started the truck.

Speaking of Jade, I figured she'd be hungry by now. Time to take her some decent food.

***

By late afternoon, the dark clouds of the coming cold front covered the sky. The temperature had dropped, the wind rose. Snow would arrive within hours, if not sooner, I thought, as I parked the truck at the dilapidated warehouse. Carrying bags of fried chicken, potato salad, chips and sodas, I walked into the place.

Jade's guards had built a fire in an old steel drum. They sat as close beside it as they could without burning themselves and watched me with ice in their gazes.

"Is that for us?" one called.

For answer, I flipped him the bird, then crossed the vast room to the stairs. Arnaud must be paying them a fortune to have them sit in an open warehouse, freezing their balls while guarding a chic who couldn't get out if she grew wings and flew away.

The temperature leveled out by the time I got to the subbasement. Down below the ground level, the air felt the same no matter what weather went on above. I trotted down the stairs, for the first time feeling pleased to see Jade again. I'm busting her out tomorrow.

The light illuminated the place as usual. I crossed the floor, smiling, ready to present Jade a nice chicken dinner. And since I'd brought enough for two, I'd share it with her.

I halted halfway across the cement floor. "Oh, God."

I dropped the bags, the drinks, and barely noticed I had.

Jade's big cell stood empty.

"No, no," I mumbled, stumbling forward. "No, no, it's too soon. Not yet, no, no, not until he leaves. Oh, shit!"

I leaned my palms against the glass, staring in. No Jade sat on the cot, glaring daggers at me, her lovely mouth a tight line of hatred. The burgers and fries I'd brought her the day before lay scattered across the cement, uneaten. "How the hell?"

I walked slowly around the cage, looking in, not finding any cracks, holes, or places she could crawl through. Not looking where I was going, I kicked something hard, unyielding, and sent it skittering. The clear dome cap on the cage roof rolled away from my boot.

My mouth dried instantly.

"I'm so dead," I half-moaned. "She figured it out."

And most likely used a combination of her dragon and human forms to escape. Had my life not been on the line, I'd have admired her smarts.

I stalked back to the cage's front, and stared down at the bags, the spilled drinks. The scent of warm fried chicken drifted up to tease my nostrils, but my hunger had long since taken a hike. I have to get out of here. He'll blame me no matter what. He'll think I helped her.

As I fully intended to let her out, my dear old dad wouldn't be far from the mark.

Heavy tread descended the stairs.

"Oh, shit."

I gulped, looking around wildly for a place to hide. In the wide space, under the bright lights, there was no place to hide. I stood as exposed as a lone tree on a barren hilltop. Nor did I have any doubt at all who that tread belonged to.

Arnaud.

He stepped onto the cement, his expression open, curious, no doubt wondering what I was doing there. He glanced down at the bags on the floor even as he strode decisively toward me. "What's up, Magnus? I'm here to tell Jade I got a message from her old man telling me to go fuck myself."

"Dad."

Arnaud stepped around me.

As I had done, he stared at the impossible. The empty cage. No Jade sitting inside it, waiting to be told her old man was an asshole. Waiting to be tortured so her screams could be recorded. Yet, he didn't walk around as I had, wondering.

He looked straight up immediately.

He then looked at me.

"Mother fucker," he murmured. "You helped her escape."

"No, no, I didn't, I swear. I brought her dinner, I just got here, I found the place empty –"

His flattened hand caught me hard across my face. The blow snapped my head around, my neck joints popped painfully. Dazed, I rubbed my stinging cheek, gazing into his dead eyes. Flat. Emotionless. Inhuman. The eyes of a killer without a soul.

"Dad," I began. "I didn't –"

"You betrayed me," he said, his voice as flat and inflectionless as his gaze. "I don't tolerate traitors."

The words barely left his mouth before I acted. A dirty thing to do, I know, but my father planned to kill me right then and there. I'd little choice if I wanted to survive the next minute.

He still spoke when I kicked him hard in his precious jewels.

Urking, doubled over, his face turning a deathly shade of gray, he gave me my prime opportunity.

I chopped the side of my hand into his neck, just below his ear, and stepped back as he fell.

Panting, I watched him writhe on the cement, thinking I should kill him. I knew I should. He'd planned to kill me. He'd never stop before Jade and I laid skinned at his feet. Murdering him now, in cold blood, would keep us both alive for a long time.

I couldn't.

I came from his blood, but mine didn't run icy as his did.

Instead, I spun and ran for the stairs.

"Bastard," Arnaud croaked just as I reached them.

He acted when I refused to.

The bullet splintered the wood railing to my right, the gunshot echoing around the basement. Shit! I lunged further up as a second bullet nearly took my head off and sank deep into the door the moment I charged through it.

Voices shouted from above me.

The guards were armed. I wasn't. I had one chance to make it from this place alive. Nor was it a chance I'd miss.

Boots clattered on the warehouse stairs above me even as I reached the basement. Arnaud yelled threats and vile cursing, ordering his men to shoot me on sight. Whether they heard him or not, I didn't care.

I shifted.

My wings barely fit between the walls as I flew toward the oncoming guards. My legs folded beneath me, I drew in a sharp gust – and sent my flames hurtling at the two armed dragons rushing down the stairs. In their human forms, they had no chance of surviving. My fire, hot enough to melt solid steel, turned them to ash before they screamed.

Kicking off with my powerful hind legs, my wings spread, my flames catching the wood, cement and steel above me, I hurtled through the warehouse floor. Nothing on this green earth could halt a dragon flying for his life. The structure shuddered from its foundations. Cement blocks, wood, steel girders blasted in all directions.

My flames set it all on fire.

My father roared from behind me, his flames licking at my tail.