Chapter Five

"S avian speaking."

"Hello, I don't know if you remember me, but my name is Ysolde de Bouchier, and I—"

"Ack!" The man on the other end of the phone squawked so loudly that Ludovic, at the wheel of the car as we headed back to the pub, cast a curious glance at me in the rearview mirror. "You're the deranged dragon who has the unnatural interest in my nuts!"

"I am neither deranged nor do I give a fig about your testicles," I said with much dignity.

"You threatened to turn them into toads!"

"It was all a mistake, and I apologized later for that. Besides, it's not like I actually did turn them into anything. It's just that you were being very annoying by telling Gabriel and May that my ex-husband hired you to get me away from them, which was extremely embarrassing considering they were nothing but nice to me, so really, any testicular threats made—and again, I will point out that they were threats only, and not actions—were perfectly reasonable given the circumstances."

Savian Bartholomew, roguish Englishman famed for both his ability in tracking, and his record as a thief-taker for the L'au-dela, breathed heavily into the phone at me. "That point is open to debate. If you didn't call me up to harass my nuts, what do you want?"

"I have a job for you, one involving the location of a stronghold." I had to go carefully here, needing to assess his willingness to steal something from people who occasionally employed him.

"Which stronghold?"

I cleared my throat and idly watched the buildings stream by as we passed into the London suburb where the pub was located. "I don't know that it has a proper name, but it's a place where items of great value are stored."

"I'm not a thief," he warned, his voice rife with suspicion. "If you're thinking to hire me to steal something for you, you can just think again."

"I wouldn't dream of asking you to steal anything that wasn't mine. And as a matter of fact, the item that I do want removed from this stronghold belongs to Baltic, so even if I was thinking of it, it would be perfectly moral to do so. However, all I need is for the location of the stronghold to be found. After that, your job is done."

"You're talking about a dragon's lair, aren't you?" Savian's voice was relaxed now, almost lighthearted. "But wait. May said you're hooked up with that wyvern with the deranged theurgist who almost killed me when I hunted down his lair. Whose lair do you want found if it's not his?"

"It's not really a lair I want found. Well, perhaps it is of sorts, but it…uh…doesn't belong to a dragon. I'm glad you mentioned May, though. She said that she and Gabriel had hired you to do some things that would have made Dr. Kostich angry had he known about them."

"Now you're blackmailing me?" he asked, his voice rising.

"No, no, I'd never dream of doing that. I just wanted to make sure that I understood exactly what it was that May said, and that you were willing—should the price be suitable, naturally—to do things that may not be looked kindly upon by the L'au-dela Committee. Is that correct?"

"Well, I'm not going to kill anyone, or steal something, if that's what you're asking. But if you are speaking of a greyer area…I'd be open to discussing the situation."

He sounded intrigued now. I was counting on May's having said his loyalty could be swayed away from the group that ran the Otherworld, and slumped back against the seat in relief. Another glance out the window warned me we were almost home. "Look, this is too complicated to work out over the phone. Can we meet to discuss the details?" I gave him directions to the pub. "Say, an hour?"

"I could do that," he said slowly. "If you promise me one thing, that is."

I sighed. "I assure you that I have absolutely no designs on any part of your genitalia—"

"No, not that, although I will hold you to that promise."

"What do you want, then?" I asked, curious.

"Carte blanche to beat the living daylights out of that lieutenant your wyvern keeps around to destroy innocent people."

I smiled as Ludovic pulled into a spot behind the pub. "I wish I could. There's nothing I'd like more than to see Thala brought down a peg or two, but she's gone to earth in Nepal. However, I think I can say with all confidence that if you were to find her, you could have at her with impunity—as well as a whole lot of my personal appreciation."

"I'll be there at eight," Savian promised before hanging up.

Pavel was busily making dinner in the pub's kitchen when I entered.

"Evening, Pavel. Did Brom and Nico get home?"

"Yes, about an hour ago. Nico went off to deal with a minor family emergency but said he should be back shortly. Baltic is around somewhere, arguing with the builder about whether or not it's reasonable to rebuild Dauva to its original specifications."

"Oh yes, I can just imagine what the locals will think of a medieval castle popping up out of nowhere. I'd better go reason with him." I started for the stairs that led up to our rooms but stopped to sniff the air, trying to guess what it was he was cooking. "Is that…roast beef?"

"Roast Angus beef with Yorkshire pudding," he answered, looking up with a smile. Pavel and I shared a love of cooking that amused Baltic, although I noticed he never complained about the fruits of our labors.

"Oooh, so very English. I've never tried to make Yorkshire pudding. Do you need help?"

"No, my friend Holland is due any minute. He'll give me a hand with the starters if I need it."

"We're having appetizers? What's the occas—did you say friend? You mean a friend, like the Casemonts who own this pub? Or a friend friend?"

Pavel laughed, dusted off his hands, and to my absolute astonishment, winked. "Holland is a friend I've known for some time…but he was involved with someone before."

I tried to look not in the least bit interested in Pavel's somewhat complicated love life. "How nice for you. What are you making now?"

"Langoustine tortellini. It'll be served with some vegetables, green lentils, and a shellfish cream."

"That sounds heavenly. Did you want me to whip together something for dessert? What…er…what sorts of things is your friend into? I mean, what does he like? Food-wise, that is." I coughed, my face turning red as Pavel laughed again.

"I made roasted-banana ice cream earlier, and we'll have that with cinnamon doughnuts with honeycomb cream, unless there's something else you'd prefer."

"No, no, that sounds fine." I eyed him, wondering if I should dress up for dinner, then realized how strange it was that I was even thinking of dressing for his date. "Sounds like you have everything under control. Which reminds me, I have a few things for you. I'll give them to you after dinner, since you're busy now, and they…er…I'll just give them to you later. But I do think your friend will like them. At least, I hope he likes them…."

Pavel's lips twitched, but he said in a perfectly sober voice, "I'm sure Holland will enjoy whatever you have for us, as will I."

"Good. Well, then. I'll just go see how many turrets and drawbridges Baltic needs to be talked out of. And maybe I'll run by him the idea of us…hmm."

"He said no," Pavel called after me as I hurried up the stairs. I paused and bent down low to look over the banister at him. "I wouldn't mind if you were present, but Baltic seems adamant on the subject."

I swore. "Dammit, he has this bizarre idea that I'm fascinated by the idea of you with…and of course, I'm not."

"Of course."

"Not in the least. I mean, I'm happy that you've found a friend again, naturally, because you deserve some companionship. But just because that friend is a man doesn't mean anything to me, nothing at all."

Pavel's eyebrows rose.

"He really said no? To you? Right to your face?"

He nodded.

I ground my teeth and continued up the stairs, intent on informing Baltic once and for all that I had no outlandish sexual fantasies, and the sooner he admitted that, the happier we'd all be. I paused quickly to check on Brom, mentally organizing several arguments that Baltic would be unable to dispute.

Brom's room was empty, although judging by the notebooks, pamphlets, clothing, and assorted detritus usually associated with my son that was strewn around the small bedroom, he had been there recently.

I continued on to our room, dropped off the shopping bags, and collected the laptop that Baltic had purchased the week before; then I headed down the front stairs to the private room that Baltic tended to use as his office.

"…Don't care what you say it used to look like, I'm telling you that no one has a moat anymore. It's all high-tech security these days, dragon."

"I can have a high-tech moat," Baltic insisted, tapping an architectural plan that was spread out on a small round table. "I do not intend for the new Dauva to be anything less than what it originally was."

"I thought we'd been through this already," I said as I entered the room, pausing to glance around it. "Back when you were having the plans for the new Dauva drawn up. Where's Brom?"

"That design had too many faults," Baltic said, holding out his hand for me. "I want it redesigned."

"Two days before we're due to start clearing the land." The builder, whose name was Murphy, stabbed his fingers through his hair. "This is why I don't like working with dragons! You're always expecting me to work miracles."

"Where's Brom?" I asked again as Baltic's fingers wrapped around mine.

"Upstairs in his room. Mate, do you not think that four towers—"

"No, he's not upstairs. I was just up there. Brom?" I released Baltic's hand and went out into the corridor that ran between the main section of the pub and the side rooms, quickly checking the rooms for signs of him. Seeing that they were empty sent a chill down my spine, my belly suddenly feeling as if it had been gripped with a clammy hand. I ran to the main room of the pub, hurrying over to the bar. "Angela, have you seen Brom?"

"Not since this morning, luv," the short, round woman said, wiping off a tap before handing over a pint of dark ale. "Oh, but someone left a letter for you. Let me see, where did I…Ah, here it is."

She handed me an envelope before turning to the next customer.

Baltic appeared in the door to the pub, a frown pulling down his dark chocolate eyebrows. "Did you find him?"

"He's not here. Baltic—" A wave of fear crashed over me, making my skin crawl. "You don't think Thala—"

"No. She would not," he said with absolute conviction, but that did little to ease the panic that clutched me. I ran past him to the door of the pub, quickly searching the parking lot and the street for signs of Brom.

"Where has he gone?" I wailed to Baltic, spinning around, unsure of what to do, or where to look for him. "He doesn't just wander off like this, not when he knows how worried I am!"

Baltic had his cell phone to his ear, his eyes darting around the street. "He does not answer his phone. Where's the tutor?"

"Gone off to deal with some family situation." I reached toward my pocket to yank out my own phone, but the letter Angela had given me was still in my hand.

"What is that?" Baltic asked, frowning.

"I don't know. Angela said someone left it for me—" I froze, my horror-filled gaze meeting Baltic's for a moment before I shredded the envelope in my attempt to get the letter out. My hands were shaking so badly, Baltic had to pull the paper from the envelope.

My stomach turned over as I read the words.

Sullivan: I have Brom. If you want to see him again, you'll do exactly what I say. If you contact the Watch, or mundane police, he'll suffer. His mobile phone is under his pillow—I'll call his phone tomorrow at noon with instructions, but in the meantime, have that dragon start gathering up gold, because you're going to need lots of it if you ever want to see the kid again.

It was signed with one word: Gareth .

For a moment, the world swam around me in a sickening fashion. I clutched Baltic's shirt, trying to keep from vomiting or passing out, both of which were likely at that moment. Baltic's arms were warm around me, holding me tight and keeping me safe as he murmured words of reassurance in my ear.

"Do not swoon, chérie . I cannot find my son if you need my attention, too."

"Brom," I said, choking on the word. Tears streamed down my face as I grabbed his arms. "He's taken my baby!"

"Our son is not a baby," Baltic said firmly, giving me a little shake before turning me toward the pub. "He is smart, and clever, and he will not be frightened by insignificant beings like the one who spawned him. He will know that we will not tolerate this abduction and will reclaim him immediately. Come, mate."

Oddly enough, what Baltic said made me feel a tiny bit better. In part, the knowledge that Brom was everything Baltic said reassured me, but mostly it was the fire I felt raging inside him. Baltic was beyond furious, his dragon fire threatening to slip his control, and I knew to the depths of my soul that he would move heaven and earth to get Brom back.

That didn't stop me from pacing the floor in Baltic's workroom an hour later, however, as he made several phone calls, attempting to locate Gareth. Pavel, with his friend Holland in tow, arrived to say that they'd thoroughly searched the pub and immediate area, and no one remembered seeing Brom or anyone resembling Gareth.

"If he so much as touches one hair on Brom's adorable head," I swore, "if he harms him in any way, I will take his scrotum and pull it over the top of his head."

"If you're talking about me, I'm leaving," a male voice said from the doorway. I spun around to see Baltic who, moving so fast he was a blur, was smashing a tall, angular man against the wall.

"Savian! Baltic, no, that's Savian Bartholomew, the thief-taker I told you about."

Baltic snarled something rude in Zilant, an archaic language once used by the dragons in the weyr, but he released Savian, who gasped and clutched a nearby chair as he tried to get air back into his lungs.

"I have no use for a thief-taker until we find that bastard who forced himself on you to spawn my son," Baltic snarled.

"Are you all right, Savian? Here, sit down. Let me get you a glass of water. And no, Baltic, I didn't mean we needed a thief-taker; Savian is also a renowned tracker. I was going to hire him to find something, but now that's…" A little wave of dragon fire danced down my body as the words that just left my lips sparked something in my brain.

"Not another one who can't control the fire," Savian said, accepting the glass of water I held out and moving his feet so my fire, now dancing around my feet, didn't reach him. "What is with you mates?"

My gaze met Baltic's again. "Savian is a tracker ," I told him again, emphasizing the word "tracker."

"Not just a tracker—I'm the best there is."

Baltic was on him in a flash, pulling him to his feet, although this time without choking him. "You will find my son."

"Who?" Savian squawked.

"Our son, Brom. Do you remember him?" I said hurriedly, my hands clutching each other as I stood before him. "Gareth—he's my ex-husband, the one who hired you to rescue me from Gabriel—he's kidnapped Brom and taken him somewhere, and we can't find any trace of him. We don't even know where he is, or if he's all right, and I wouldn't put it past Gareth to harm Brom!"

"His own son?" Savian asked, his face a mask of disbelief.

"Brom is my son; the usurper is nothing to him. Although I myself will see to it that Gareth will die in the most heinous manner if he inflicts hurt upon Brom," Baltic said simply. Savian, with a sidelong look at the hard expression on Baltic's face, edged away.

"That's none of my business, but if you want me to help you find your son, I am at your service," Savian said, finally getting himself out of Baltic's grip enough to make us both a little bow. "You'll find no better tracker than me, if I do say so myself. Now, tell me what you know, and we'll see what we can see."

While Baltic and the others filled Savian in with the details, I paced the long room, feeling itchy with the need to be doing something, anything to rescue Brom, little pools of fire trailing my footsteps until I smothered them on the following pass through the room.

The horrible words of Gareth's note kept dancing through my head, making me rage at the same time my stomach turned over with worry. I'll call his phone tomorrow at noon with instructions, the note said. His phone…the two words reverberated in my head. Gareth's phone! Or rather, his phone number. I still had Gareth's phone number programmed into my phone!

I pulled it out and stared somewhat dazedly at the entry for him. It couldn't be this easy, could it? Could I just call him and demand that he release Brom? I hit the DIAL button and held the phone up to my ear, half expecting to hear a recorded voice tell me the number had been disconnected.

"Yes?"

The voice was so familiar, it took my breath away. Well, the fury that followed that one word took my breath away—it took me a good two seconds before I was able to speak.

"Who is this?" Gareth's slightly nasal, annoyed voice filled my ear.

"If you treat Brom with anything but the utmost care, I will do things to you that you cannot even imagine," someone said in a low, ugly voice, and to my surprise, I realized it was me.

Baltic spun around at my words, frowning as Gareth sputtered, "Sullivan? How the hell did you—dammit, Ruth, I told you we should have gotten a new phone!"

"Where's Brom?" I asked, and then repeated it, screaming, "Where have you taken my son?"

Baltic was at my side, one arm around me, trying to take the phone, while behind him, Savian made gestures at me and said something about keeping Gareth on the phone as long as possible. He pulled out his own cell phone and turned his back on us as he made a call.

"He's right here, and he's all right, although he's not going to remain that way if you don't do as I tell you," Gareth said.

I closed my eyes for a moment, visualizing roasting Gareth alive. "Let me talk to him."

"No. There's no reason for you to speak with him."

"By the rood, Gareth! He's my son! I'm out of my mind with worry! I have to know he's all right!"

Gareth muttered some rude things, saying in a slightly muffled tone, "Get the boy. No, she's insisting on talking to him. Just warn him not to say anything but that he's unhurt."

"Mate, control your fire."

I opened my eyes again to find the tables surrounding us were alight. I tamped down the flames, staring in mute appeal to Baltic.

"It will not help Brom if you lose control," he said softly, and tried again to take the phone.

"Sullivan?"

I almost wept with relief at the sound of Brom's voice. "Are you all right, lovey? Did Gareth or Ruth hurt you?"

"No, I'm fine, although they don't have any interesting books, and I left my field notebook in my room. There's a dead sparrow outside my window, but I can't take notes about it."

I leaned into Baltic, some of the tension easing as Brom complained. If he was well enough to fret over the loss of a notebook, he wasn't harmed.

Before I could say any more, Gareth was back. "Happy now?"

"I can't believe you would kidnap your own child to use against me," I told him, tightening my fingers on the phone.

"I told you this wasn't over when you tried to brain me against my own car," Gareth sneered. "If you think we're going to roll over and lose all that gold you brought in each year, you're stupider than I thought."

"How much do you want?" I asked through clenched teeth. "How much blood money will it take to let Brom go?"

"All we want is what is due to us. All those centuries we took care of you; you owe us, Sullivan." He named a figure that didn't even register in my by now numb brain. I was past the disbelief that Gareth would hold his own child hostage for profit; I just wanted to do whatever it took to get Brom back. "That'll do for now."

My gaze met Baltic's. He nodded, then made a gesture toward his watch. "You'll get your gold, but it will take Baltic a day to get it from his lair. Where are you?"

Gareth laughed. "Nice try, but we're the ones calling the shots. I'll call you tomorrow to see if your dragon has the gold. And Sullivan—he'd better have it. Because any delay is going to make Brom very, very sorry."

My fire rose around us in a wall of red. Baltic's arm tightening around me reminded me of the veracity of his words. I had it extinguished by the time I finished saying, "One hair, Gareth. If so much as one hair of Brom's is harmed in any way, you will regret the day you first drew breath."

"Just have the gold ready, and save the empty threats. And don't call here again—I will be the one to call you," Gareth said, then hung up.

"He will not harm my son," Baltic said, his breath warm on my forehead as he kissed my hair. "He knows we will destroy him if he does. You will cease worrying."

I gave a shaky laugh, hugging him for a moment just to soak in his strength. "I'm a mother, Baltic. Worry is my middle name. Gareth may be many things, but he's always had a strong sense of self-preservation, so I don't think he'd do anything to endanger himself, and that means Brom is probably going to be left alone. I just…I want him here."

"I know. We will have him within twenty-four hours."

"How can you be so sure?" I asked, watching him as he moved over to consult briefly with Pavel before eyeing Savian.

The latter held up a finger as he listened to something being said in his phone before asking, "What's the number of your phone, Ysolde?"

I gave it to him. Savian repeated it, listening intently again, a smile suddenly softening the long lines of his face. "Got him. He called from Spain."

"Spain? We used to live there, but…how did he get Brom to Spain so fast? He's been gone only two hours."

"Portal, no doubt," Savian said, thanking his friend on the phone and tucking it away. "I'll check the local ones and see if Gareth used any of them."

"I will come with you," Baltic said, gesturing to Pavel. "Mate, you will remain here, with Pavel's friend."

"If you think I'm going to sit around here worrying myself to death while you big strong men go rescue Brom—"

Baltic cocked an eyebrow. "I had hoped you'd make arrangements, and pack our things, as well as Brom's, so that we can be ready to leave shortly."

"Arrangements?" Fear clutched my heart again. "Baltic, I know dragons avoid using portals because it makes you all discombobulated, but time is of the essence. It would take several hours to fly to Spain, even assuming we could either charter a jet or find a commercial flight that was leaving right away."

The look he gave me sharpened before he marched over and gave me a swift, hard kiss. "You should have more faith in me, mate. We will take the portal to find our son just as soon as we know where he is. See to things here so that we may leave once we have that information."

The three men left, leaving me standing in the room with a man of my height, with brownish blond hair and a little goatee. I stared at him for a few seconds, my mind whirling with worry and fear and anger.

"We haven't been properly introduced, have we?" the man said with a slight Welsh lilt. "I'm Elliot Holland. And I'm happy to help you locate your son, if you can use my assistance."

I looked him over carefully, too frazzled to care if I was being obvious or rude. "What are you? I mean, you're not a dragon."

"I'm a knocker."

I blinked at him. "I beg your pardon?"

He laughed. "A knocker is a Welsh being, traditionally heard warning miners from danger, although we also have the reputation of being somewhat troublesome. These days, we mostly concentrate on talking."

"Talking to who?" I couldn't help but ask.

"Birds, mostly, although I can understand some four-footed beasties."

I stared at him for a moment, and then shook my head. It didn't matter who he was or what he could do—I wasn't about to turn down an offer of help. "I'm delighted to meet you, happy you and Pavel have hooked up even if Baltic is being a poop about that whole thing, and will welcome your help."

Nico came in as we were stuffing a few necessary items in bags. He was immediately distraught and blamed himself for Brom being abducted.

"I don't have time for this," I said, shoving two bags at him. "I know you're sorry, and you can come with us if you want, but you have to pack quickly."

He was off before I finished the sentence, hurrying with the bags down to where Ludovic was waiting at the car, promising over his shoulder he'd be packed in three minutes.

I briefly explained the situation to Angela before going to stand by the car, rubbing my arms against the chill of the evening air.

Brom would be all right. He just had to be.