Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

Present day Dragoncross Abbey,

One month later…

"How long do you think he intends to stay like this?" Duncan asked, his voice low but not low enough that Zerek could not hear the meddling little weasel.

Val grunted. "I haven't a bloody fucking clue."

Great. Two meddling weasels.

He sliced the air with a definitive thrust of his sword. "Until I die." He swung his sword a second time.

"Oh, good, you did hear us," weasel number two said. "I was starting to worry you'd slipped into some far away land of lovesick fools. And for the record, neither Duncan nor I are weasels." Valentine descended into the armory.

As did Duncan.

"You've had your sigil back a month now," Valentine said, "and yet you still haven't joined us once for a flyover above Dragoncross like we used to do in the good old days."

"Not interested."

"Odd," Duncan stated. "I thought for sure you would have been sky-bound the moment you sensed that new wolf visiting next door. Bane says he's a prominent Alpha from the States. Had dinner three times at Craignamore since he's been vacationing in Dundaire."

"Not my business." He switched out the Claymore for a battle axe.

"You do realize the woman will not wait forever," Valentine pointed out, matter of factly.

"I don't want her to."

The abbey shook.

"Sod off, Dragoncross."

The pair of stained-glass windows in the hall above the wide stairs leading into the armory, shattered.

Zerek stumbled.

Val ducked.

Duncan cursed, gripping the wall. "I don't think the abbey agrees with you, Zee."

A third window shattered.

Zerek dropped his battle axe.

On the far end of the chamber, the walls parted, as did the ceiling.

A whoosh of flapping wings echoed from above.

"Now ye've done it, Zee," Valentine said. "Ye've caught the big bird's wrath. And bloody hell, I do mean wrath. He's scowling like a devil."

Staegyl landed on the stone tarmac Dragoncross extended toward him. He glared at Val. "Call me a miniscule bird again and I'll grill your arse so you can't sit for a year, Valentine."

Zerek grabbed a towel from the claw-shaped hook jutting out from the wall and wiped his face. He stared into the nearby mirror and winced. The gouge his father's talon dug had left a hideous scar descending from his mid right cheek, all the way down to his thigh. The man was finally dead, and yet he'd be reminded of the beast every fucking day for the rest of his life. Bastard.

"Sit," Staegyl demanded, flicking a chair from the row of seats lined up against the wall. It skidded right up to where Zerek stood.

Val and Duncan approached.

He didn't like the way they were staring at him. "What?"

"You need to talk," Val said.

"I don't need therapy or a bloody intervention."

"We think you do." Duncan leaned back against a nearby arch.

Staegyl gently lowered a small pouch he'd had tucked in the crook of his arm, to the floor in front of Zerek and unfolded its sides, revealing a glittery pink egg. "This is what you get when you talk."

Zerek arched a brow. "I'm not you, Staegyl."

"But you are. You're no different than me, Val or Duncan."

"Really? These two haven't even ever considered marriage, let alone been able to keep a relationship for more than two, maybe three months."

Staegyl's brow furrowed. "Maybe they are not the best examples."

"Hey," Val said. "Just because Duncan and I have yet to take wives, does not mean we are not worthy of finding the right woman, marrying, and starting our own dens."

Staegyl lowered his head. "Do you really want to leave the future of The Draco Unit to these two?"

Zerek stifled a laugh. "Point made and taken."

Staegyl bundled the egg back up. "Good. Now I must get back before Maeve gives me hell for taking the future Fifi from her nest."

"Fifi?" Zerek never pegged Staegyl as one who favored cutesy names.

"See how much say you have in naming your child when that slayer of yours gives you your fourteenth daughter." He eyed the three of them. "I pray to God you all have sons. Or I'll be forced to marry off my brood to men of Maeve's choosing. Who the hell knows what sort of sons-in-law I'll get then. Probably puny humans. Or God forbid, slayers. Wouldn't that be a kick. No offense to your Rylie, of course." He pointed a talon at the egg soon to be known as Fifi. "And I can tell even now, this one is going to give me the most trouble."

The abbey shook, creating a crack in the floor that popped out a pink painted, nest-shaped cradle.

"Aw…would you look at that." Staegyl plucked the piece of furnishing and tucked it under his wing. "Maeve will be delighted with this, Dragoncross. Our deepest thanks." He glared at Zerek. "Don't make me come back for another round of talks. Because if you do, we'll be taking that one outside, dragon-to-dragon." With Fifi clutched tight, Staegyl flew up through the still parted ceiling and into the clouds.

Zerek tossed his towel over his shoulder.

Duncan stepped his way.

"Don't," he warned. "I'm through talking for the day."

The floor vibrated.

"I'm working on it, DC."

"Working on what?" Duncan asked.

"Nothing that concerns you." He pivoted to stare at Valentine. "Or you."

Val rubbed his bearded chin. "You do know you were never like him."

He smirked. "Not only was I like my father, I still am like the man."

"That's not true."

"Actually, you're right. I'm worse. I made my first kill at fifteen. My father was a year older when he'd made his."

"He forced your sword into that gladiator," Duncan said. "That kill was not yours. And never have you ever acted when it wasn't in self-defense of yourself or someone else."

"Rylie deserves better."

"Do I need to sic Maeve on you?"

Staegyl's voice came through loud and clear in his head. "No. But do you really believe Rylie still wants me after what she witnessed? For hell's sake, Staeg, she had to save me! Not to mention I set my father up to be killed. What sort of son does that make me. What sort of man does that make me?"

He swore he heard the dragon sigh.

"For starters, you did not set your father up. He came after you and you defended yourself and Rylie. Plus, if anyone is to blame it is me. According to Roman Dragon law, that kill is on my soul. As it should be as I am the one who rendered him to ash. And as for Rylie… She's a slayer, you dolt. It's what she does. If I have to tell you how many times Maeve has saved my arse over the millenniums I've lived, you'd literally die counting. And probably laughing, as well. And don't get me started about the time I fainted over a spider on the wall."

"A spider? Really? Have you seen your size?"

"I seriously cannot wait until you get married, and that slayer of yours becomes your upper hand. She is going to render you into a pile of mush, and then some. Guaranteed. And one word about that damn spider to Duncan or Valentine and I'll have your wings. Also guaranteed."

"Zee?" Valentine asked.

"I have something to tend to."

"Going next door?"

"Nope." He paused. "Not yet. And maybe not even for the next few days. I must do something first."

Duncan slapped him on the back. "It better be good, Bro."

Oh, it was good all right. He just hoped Rylie would think so as well.