28. Dragonfire

Angel stood in the library, Simeon on one side, Isaac on the other, and his family, friends, allies, and clan mates were spread out amongst the seats or standing, waiting for him to speak.

Only Eroch was absent, flying above the Mansion on thermals left from the setting sun. It was nearly night, the last of the sun's rays cutting sharply through the library windows. So far no moves had been made on either side, either Council or Salvatore.

"They're getting ready for something," Angel said, sighing a bit, more resigned to violence than afraid of it. "I don't know what they're going to do, but their goals are clear enough. They want me dead, and they want Eroch and Leandro."

The boy in question was in the temple with Ashwin, and Ignacio was in the library, but near the archway, as if unwilling to be separated from his tiny family more than necessary. Angel understood the need to be close.

"Unspoken on their end is the desire for the sidhe temple mound. I don't doubt they want it too. Expect them to try and take you alive, but don't count on them stopping a killing blow if they get the chance," Angel said that last bit to Rory, Cian standing at his side, both sidhe men wearing leather armor and their weapons. Rory nodded, though he said nothing, serene and calm. Daniel appeared far more worried. "Cian, keep out of sight as best you can. I don't want your cover blown. Disguise your eyes like you did earlier, please."

Cian gave him a shallow bow.

"Rael, Celyn, Leandro, and Ashwin are staying in the mound. Cian is under orders to evacuate everyone he can if things go badly. We're to head to the Tower if we need to abandon the Mansion."

"It's not gonna get that bad, though?" Isaac asked, and his little brother was doing better than he expected, but for some tension in his shoulders and around his eyes. "We aren't gonna need to retreat?"

"I'm not expecting us to lose, but I've never fought a blood mage of sound mind before," Angel shared. "This is new magic to all of us. I expect de la Roche to be on the field." Angel gestured to Constantine. "Can you tell us anything about blood mages in battle?"

Constans nodded, a grim expression on his handsome face. "Don't let them touch you, whether with weapons or hands. Even through clothing. They can incapacitate you instantly. Especially if you're bleeding—they get close enough, they can utilize what's been spilled already. Siphon magic from you. Weaken you."

"Distance fighting only, got it," Angel said. "Mind your shields and any injuries you might get."

Daniel took a step forward from Rory's side. "What's our goal? Kill them all or merely stop them?"

Angel smiled at Daniel. "You can stop them however you please, kiddo. You don't need to kill if it's not something you can do. It's okay. Knock them down and out so they don't get right back up and become another problem. Good?"

Daniel nodded, relieved. "Yup."

"If anyone gets hurt, retreat to the Mansion, please. Especially our human friends. Don't be brave." Rory said that, and Angel agreed with him, nodding along.

"Exactly. Don't be brave and try to stick it out. Get back to the Mansion. The goal is to stop the Council, but that's my job. I'm going to stop them. Me. That means I'm the one taking the brunt of things. I can handle it. Don't try to be a hero."

"Oh, Angel," Milly sighed, but she said nothing else, merely shaking her head. She didn't argue with him though, which was as good as an agreement from her.

There was a shimmer of energy behind him and Angel saw Scylla step from the archway, dressed in a leather jacket, t-shirt, dark jeans, and boots, her eyes aglow. Her dark hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, her expression fierce. "Scylla?"

"Your butler let me in," Scylla shared, slightly sarcastic, having come from the townhouse in Beacon Hill, the archway returning to the view of the temple. "I'm here to fight."

"I…" Angel started, and Simeon shook his head once. Angel merely nodded and gestured for her to join them. "Welcome. Rael is sitting the fight out."

"I bet he hates that." Scylla came into the library a few more steps and stopped by Simeon, arms crossed. "I won't be bothering with mercy. These assholes hurt my boys."

Angel's lips twitched in amusement. "Not a problem."

He looked back over his family and friends. He was going to do everything in his power to keep them as safe as possible.

The sun set. Twilight eased across the landscape, inky blacks and dark purples in the sky, stars hidden behind stray clouds and light pollution from the north.

The wind was cool, the ground still holding the warmth of the summer day, and life hummed in a growing chorus of sound, an owl calling amidst the susurration from the distant waves on the beach and the answering melody of crickets.

Angel walked down the white gravel drive to where it crossed the wards, stopping just inside the boundary, Simeon and Isaac a few steps behind him.

The idling limo in the drive, stopped on the other side of the wards, turned off, and the driver left the vehicle, going around to open the door for the occupant.

Grand Master Onfroi de la Roche stepped out, wearing dark robes that were black in the twilight, the carved silver pendant of the High Council seal hanging from his neck. He bore no weapons, but walked with danger in his wake, coming to stand across from Angel outside the wards.

"Necromancer Salvatore, how lovely to see you." De la Roche said, "Such a fine evening."

"Mosquitos are gonna be a bitch in a bit, but it's nice out," Angel responded casually. "What do you want?"

De la Roche's expression was mild and polite, but the way he held himself had Angel on edge.

"You know what I want," de la Roche said, looking past Angel toward the house for a moment before meeting Angel's gaze directly. "Send out the boy's fathers to negotiate their surrender. I'll let them live and stay together if they surrender peacefully."

"That's not fucking happening," Isaac said. "Angie, this guy is nuts."

Simeon laughed softly, fangs catching what little light there was. The moon was rising, but slowly, barely over the top of the house.

"Yeah," Angel sighed. "I'm not doing that. They told me to tell you to fuck off. Anything else I can help ya with? Maybe an ass-kicking?"

"Such juvenile responses," de la Roche lamented, shaking his head, French accent heavy with disdain.

"Any aggression on your part will be met with hellfire," Angel said, switching to a tone that was ice-cold. "You're not getting the boy, the dragon, or the sidhe temple," Angel paused, watching the ire flash in de la Roche's eyes. "Yeah, I know you want that too. You're not getting any of it. Leave, and take your goons with you, while you still have your lives."

"You can't fight us all," de la Roche said, gesturing idly over his shoulder in the direction of the enforcers gathered along the road. Their numbers had increased since Angel counted last. Several cars were parked along the access road, engines off, enforcers standing in small groups, awaiting orders. A couple of people with magistrate badges on their shoulders waited with the enforcers, eyes on the meeting between their boss and Angel.

"We can and will fight you all," Angel said loudly enough for his voice to carry to their audience on the road. "Leave now before your boss gets you killed. If we don't kill you, he will when you fail to take us out."

He had no idea if his words made an impact, but a muscle twitched in de la Roche's jaw, so it got to the Grand Master. That was more than enough for Angel.

A tug at Angel's core, in the depths of his soul where the mate bond and the bond to Eroch lived, almost distracted him, but the echoing cry of a dragon in flight followed and Angel smiled. Eroch flew from the shadows, wings sending gusts of air to flatten the field grasses, ruffle hair, and even send the robes of the grandmaster fluttering about his legs in an undignified manner, and the young dragon banked and flipped in the air, reversing quickly and returning to hover high over Angel. A great torrent of flame erupted from Eroch, lighting the ground and the faces of the enforcers, and Angel was pleased to see some fear and consternation on their faces before the light faded.

"Marvelous," de la Roche breathed out. He eyed Eroch like he was a bauble to covet. "He'll be brought to heel soon. A power such as his is not meant for singular hands to tend. Turn him over to the Council before it's too late."

With another flip and a swoop, Eroch landed beside Angel, teeth barred as he roared his response, smoke escaping between white fangs, mantling his wings, tail lashing. Simeon adroitly moved out of the way, letting Eroch answer for himself.

Eroch tugged on the brooding bond, and Angel opened the floodgates. The death magics poured into Eroch, who used it immediately. Angel nonchalantly walked backwards, away from Eroch, Simeon and Isaac doing the same, giving him space.

And he grew.

He grew to twice his current size, then three, and more, until he dwarfed the limo, and Angel got a crick in his neck from looking up at his dragon. Eroch was huge, wings blocking out the sky, heat radiating off his great body in shimmering waves, the air thick with the scent of smoke and ozone. Easily twenty feet tall, Eroch scored the driveway with his talons and growled, the sound reverberating up from the ground to the top of Angel's head.

De la Roche took an involuntary step back, eyes wider, though he schooled himself quickly. "What magic is this, Salvatore? What proscribed spells have you used to change him so?"

"This is dragon magic," Angel called back. "Eroch is no helpless eggling for the taking. He's decided not to go with you."

"These tricks won't stop us from taking your familiar," de la Roche replied angrily.

"No tricks. Just the truth ready to bite your head off."

De la Roche backed away and retreated to the limo, the driver doing the same.

"I guess the meeting is over?" Isaac said as the limo backed away down the drive to the access road.

"Looks that way," Angel agreed. He turned to Eroch. "Don't cross the wards. And good job."

Eroch nodded his great head and blew out a tendril of smoke, watching the enforcers with bright yellow eyes that flashed like golden mirrors in the headlights of the limo.

The humans stank of fear and blood, old blood, the blood of dead things. He hated the smell, preferring the blood of a fresh kill over the scent of dead things.

Magic foreign to his senses crawled and writhed like a mess of bugs over a corpse, coming from the large vehicles parked along the road.

Eroch growled, flames escaping between his teeth, and he dragged in a deep breath, scenting the air, tasting the foul magic on the cool night breeze.

Blood magic. The rot of the natural order.

Eroch swung his head around and grumbled out a warning, sending a sense of dread along the bond to Angel. There was evil nearby.

Angel stopped, feeling Eroch's warning.

"Wait, there's something…" Angel said, and Eroch nodded his great head, turning back to look at the vehicles.

Doors of the vehicles opened, and a corpse was pulled from each vehicle, dumped in the grass along the shoulder of the road.

"The fuck?" Angel breathed out. He came to stand beside Eroch, bracing a hand on Eroch's massive foreleg.

From the vehicles more people came, these ones alive and chained, stripped of powers and helpless. Eroch saw the sundered magics and the cold iron holding them, blood oozing from old wounds, the stink of blood magic everywhere, filling the air, each breath laden with suffering and misery.

"Angie, what's the fuck is happening?" Isaac asked.

"I don't…Oh, Hecate," Angel breathed out, the wards powering up even more despite being at their peak—hellfire sprang to life around Angel's feet and shoulders. "They're making golems!"

"Fuck!" Isaac joined Angel at the boundary. "They're gonna kill those people."

Angel put a hand on the boundary, waves of hellfire rippling at the contact. "We have to stop them."

It was too late. The magic was already working on the captives, as plain to see for Eroch as the sun in a cloudless sky. They were dying, each breath more labored than the last, and they were dropped upon the corpses on the ground.

"NO!" Angel shouted, and he made to cross the boundary of the wards.

Eroch shifted, reaching out and gently scooping Angel and Isaac up in one paw, pulling them back off their feet and away from the boundary. Simeon shouted in alarm, but Eroch ignored him, as well as the shouts from the brothers to be put down. He jumped once, then twice, coming to rest at the doors of the Mansion where Rory and Daniel came running out.

Eroch set Isaac and Angel on their feet. "We have to stop them!" Angel shouted.

Eroch shook his head, and looked back.

The bodies were twisting and warping, darkness consuming the flesh and bones, blood pooling and congealing.

Four huge golems rose in the light from the rising moon, slime reflecting the light like mirrors, tentacles writhing like snakes, and they began to crawl across the field toward the wards.

Simeon went to his mate, a steadying hand on his shoulder. "It was too late for them hours ago, my love. Eroch saw the truth of the magic."

"Fuck," Angel swore, rubbing a hand over his face. "Just, fuck."

"Get our vampire guests, please, Daniel." Simeon asked, and Daniel was gone with a nod, sprinting into the Mansion.

Isaac was pale in the moonlight, and he stared at the slowly approaching golems with horror. "Our magic does nothing against the golems, they just eat it. The wards might fall."

"I know," Angel agreed. "I was not expecting this. I failed to account for de la Roche sanctioning blood magic like this. He had to have taught those magistrates the spells to make the golems, because they don't appear to be anything but elementalists to me."

"He's training new blood mages?" Isaac asked, aghast.

"Maybe just in the golem spells, but I can't be sure. The mess of blood magic covers everything over there, clouding my vision."

"We can handle the golems," Constantine Batiste said, striding from the Mansion with his coldhunters at his heels, all armed with steel weapons. Eroch approved of the weapons, sharp as dragon talons and just as deadly. "They are susceptible to our vampiric magics."

"The limo is leaving," Angel observed with a sneer. "He's bailing on his own people."

The tail lights of the limo faded in the distance as the limo left the property.

"Yeah, not surprised one bit," Isaac said. "How are we doing this?"

"Golems will fall apart if the maker dies," Angel said, Isaac nodding along in agreement. Eroch grumbled to himself, itching to get past the wards and fight a golem. Angel must have sensed his desire to fight the abominations, as his brood-father gave him a narrow glare and pointed a finger at him. "We have no idea what a golem will do to a dragon and I refuse to put you in danger. No golems."

Eroch pretended not to hear Angel, blowing smoke from his nostrils and eyeing the slowly approaching golems as they lumbered toward the wards. He would fight what he wanted.

Remi, the coldhunter mated to the sweet fae, came out of the house without a weapon, though his fangs and talons were sharp and ready to spill blood. Cian was there, slightly glamoured, eyes disguised as a rich amber even past the glamour, making him appear as insubstantial as a ghost. He was easy to tell apart from Rory, by scent and movement. And the two long silver daggers he held, one in each hand.

Remi spoke. "The others are in the temple."

"Safe, for now. I'll make sure of it." Cian added.

Ignacio and Milly came to the door of the Mansion, joining the group. Ignacio eyed Eroch with some surprise at his new size. He preened, blowing a smoke ring, delighted to have an admirer.

"Alright. We take out the golems with steel, vampires first. Mages cover the vampires, keep them safe from the enforcers. Trace the magic back to the right practitioner so we know which ones to take out. If the golems break through the wards before they get destroyed, keep them away from the house and the temple inside. Make sure no enforcers get through with the golems. We have people depending on us to keep them safe."

Nods all around and Eroch nodded too, making sure not to hit anyone. He lumbered away from the group, Angel still advising them on what to do, but Eroch had plenty of ideas.

Dragonfire.

There were no nets to catch him, no sacks this time to toss over him, and those who crafted the golems were not blood mages themselves—the connections they held to the abominations were weaker as a result.

"Eroch!" Angel called after him, but Eroch took to the wing, launching himself in the air. He climbed high, racing alongside the wards until he reached their zenith, and broke past them into exposed air.

Shouts from below. Those Eroch counted as family raced toward the wards, the vampires leading the way, steel blades at the ready. Eroch hovered high above, taking in the battlefield, getting his bearings.

Constantine and the coldhunter called Ricon fought side by side against the far left golem, hacking at the beast as they dodged tentacles and spells lobbed at them by enforcers, Isaac just within the boundary and casting shields over the vampires as they fought.

Simeon, armed with his great sword, fought beside Ellora against the middle golem, Angel situated like Isaac, just within the wards and covering the vampires in shields to prevent the enforcers from attacking them. A rain of spells fell upon the vampires past the wards from the enforcers, but so far none of them were being hit.

Remi stood ready at the doors, guarding the way into the Mansion and the precious lives within.

Rory and a glamoured Cian fought beyond the wards, shielded as well by Daniel and Milly, going against the third golem, tentacles reaching for Rory, seeming unable to see Cian, allowing him to hack and slash apart the beast with devastating blows from his daggers.

The fourth golem was unimpeded, glomming itself onto the wards, sucking at the magic. Ignacio tossed a few lightning bolts at the beast, but nothing happened beyond a few scorch marks, and the storm mage swore viciously at the creature and turned his attention to the enforcers following closely behind the golem, throwing lightning across the wards that bounced off their shields. The enforcers stumbled back from the bolts' impact, some shields winking out under the onslaught, the enforcers no match for the storm mage.

Scylla and Jameson, both werewolves fully transformed, came charging out of the Mansion, and loped toward the golem below Eroch. They charged across the wards, the magic letting them go through with a slight hitch, but then both wolves were attacking the golem. Ignacio gave them cover—he threw spells and lightning as if they were toys, his power easily a match for Angel's. Blue spells whirled past the werewolves that were cornering the golem between them, missing them by inches, hitting a few enforcers and rupturing their paltry shields. The enforcers fell back, several running away toward the vehicles parked by the road.

Scylla leapt on the top of the golem, getting a mouthful of tentacle, and she ripped it off the golem with a horrific wrenching sound. Jameson, snarling, leapt to join her, and did the same, slashing with claws and getting his mouth full of tentacles—and then Scylla leapt away from the golem, one huge gray-furred arm catching Jameson around the middle and taking him with her. Flying past the wards and landing on the grass, Scylla reverted quickly to her human form, hacking and coughing up black ooze, her whole body convulsing as she threw up pieces of the golem. Jameson soon began to convulse as well, throwing up more black ooze, and then Eroch realized—the golem was poison.

The werewolves were too vulnerable, too mortal. Despite living for centuries, they had mortal weaknesses. He hoped their rapid healing would help purge the golem's poison—but they weren't going to be able to help.

Eroch was not of this mortal world—he was magic. All magic. Dragons were the living embodiment of magic, and what was poison to mortals was merely another type of magic to a dragon. He might have been an eggling when he was torn from the nest, but his lessons began the day he hatched, and he knew with certainty that the abomination below him was no match for his power.

Eroch roared, and with a few beats of his wings, positioned himself above the fourth golem, and then he pulled in his wings tight to his body.

He dove.

Wind screamed past him as he fell to the earth, faster and faster, the ground looming bigger in his vision, his target unaware of his approach, and at the last second, he opened his wings with a loud boom of displaced air, slamming into the golem.

Claws and teeth found purchase in the slimy, disgusting creature, and Eroch felt the abhorrent magics trying to consume him as the beast attempted to consume the human magics, like the spells and wards.

Its magic tried to eat him, but Eroch was not mortal, not human, and not of this world. Nothing made by mortal hands could eat him as if he were prey.

He tore at the beast, jaws snapping, tentacles falling to the earth in great globs of blood and black smoke, splattering everything and everyone nearby.

It squirmed and thrashed, trying to get free, but Eroch pinned the beast beneath him and opened his jaws just enough for a wash of fire to engulf the golem.

He burned the beast in dragonfire—hotter, brighter, pouring all his power into it, drawing on Angel's power as well, and with a great puff of black smoke and the stink of burning blood, the golem collapsed on itself.

Eroch fell to the ground into a puddle of goo, and he shook himself, tossing the remains of the golem in every direction, making the Council humans shout and run. A few foolish humans stared at him in shock and horror, and Eroch sucked in a deep breath, ready to blast them with more flame.

To his own surprise, two of them dropped to their knees, hands up, stinking of fear, but not aggression. "We yield! We give up!"

Eroch's tail lashed the ground as he decided what to do; it meant they were surrendering, right? Not fighting anymore?

Before he could decide, two blue flashes of light flew past his shoulder and smacked each enforcer in the head. The toppled and fell backwards, knocked out cold. Two shields popped into existence, covering the unconscious mortals, keeping them in place. Eroch turned and grumbled in approval at Ignacio, who grinned wide and knelt by the werewolves, who waved him off with assurances that they would be all right with time. Jameson and Scylla both looked ill, but even as Eroch watched, their color was improving and they had stopped vomiting up black ooze.

Jameson gave him a crooked smile and a nod, and Eroch knew they would get better.

Eroch gathered himself and jumped back into the air, wings as loud as a storm cresting in the night.

Blade in hand, Constans dodged a huge tentacle as it flew right at his head, sword up, letting the momentum cut the tentacle clean in half. The golem screeched, high and thin, writhing on the grass. It was three times the size of the beast that Constans fought in the old Beacon Hill apartment when he defended Isaac—but it died all the same.

Constans summoned his power, the ice-cold energies that occupied the deep well in his very being, the same power that made him a City Master, as ancient as he was—it was his source of strength. He blurred past two more tentacles, Ricon distracting the golem with his flashing twin blades, and Constans plunged the blade deep into the center mass of the golem, the huge, amorphous slimeball sucking in the sword without resistance. He stopped it before it swallowed his hand, and he poured his energy into the steel, the blade freezing, hoarfrost building and spreading around the hilt of the sword.

The golem shuddered, and Ricon landed on top of the golem, stabbing downward with his own blades, hacking at the center mass, narrowly avoiding Constans. Ricon was no City Master but he had power of his own and he called it to him in a wave of heat that Constans felt on his face and hands, the undead magics of their kind anathema to the blood magic that animated the golems. There was nothing for the golems to consume, no living magics. Ricon's blades carved aside bits of the beast as Constans froze it, and it fell apart in two jagged halves, tentacles disintegrating and crashing to the ground with splatters of blood and gore.