Harmonia's Kiss, Page 3

  Who was he to doubt his powers when she was convinced she could shape the world to her will? She might be wrong, but he admired her fortitude.

  Her determination made Drake realize that the despondency that had claimed him, this uncharacteristic indifference, was the work of a viper.

  And why not? They were said to breed in darkness, said to bring war and pestilence and famine upon the lands they occupied. Why not here, where all had gone awry? How could he have forgotten to listen?

  Drake listened then. He strained his ears, using the full capacity of his keen Pyr senses.

  And the chant was there. Soft, persistent, but there. He heard the soft murmur of the viper, so well heeded in this place. His eyes widened slightly as he recognized that his despondency—and that of his men—had been wrought by the spell. They had almost been enthralled again, so consumed with their losses that they had nearly lost everything that remained.

  Erik was right. There was purpose in their awakening in this time. They could continue their mission. The Dragon’s Teeth Warriors could do what they did best, hunt and destroy vipers.

  And he would guess his last coin that this woman’s quest was linked to his own. It could be no accident that she had found him, no coincidence that she had touched him in so few words.

  It was fate.

  Drake looked into the eyes of this woman and instead of seeing the past, he saw the future. He would do something for her.

  He would make a difference to this boy.

  He would get her truth, no matter what it cost him.

  And in so doing, he guessed that he would find his own path forward.

  “My name is Drake,” he said, although that was only his new name. His old name was as dust, just as his old life had been. Drake suited him well enough.

  “Mr. Drake?” she asked.

  “General Drake,” the boy corrected.

  Drake felt himself smile a little and the curve felt unfamiliar on his lips. “Just Drake.” She was softer than his Cassandra, this woman, and he was wary of frightening her.

  “I’m Veronica,” she said, slipping her hand into his. Her fingers were small, her skin soft, her perfume tantalizing. Something else awakened in Drake, a desire he’d thought never to feel again. “Veronica Maitland.” She shrugged and started to blush, then pulled her hand away quickly. “Everyone just calls me Ronnie.”

  He would call her Veronica in his thoughts, at least. The name was perfect for her, for it meant “little truth,” or “honesty.”

  Just what she had brought to him.

  “I will find your husband, Mrs. Maitland,” Drake said.

  Her throat worked for a moment before she spoke. “They say, they say, that his mission was…”

  “I will find him,” Drake interrupted firmly. “Take your son home, and leave this to me. I will ensure that you know the truth, whatever it is.”

  “I don’t have much money…”

  “I will require no compensation.”

  She eyed him, then nodded, her grip tight on her son’s shoulders. “How will I find you, Drake?”

  He felt his sense of purpose grow as he beckoned to his men. There was no time to drink and mourn the past. They would do what they did so well.

  “Have no fear,” he said. “I will find you when I know.”

  III

  It was not a trail a mortal man could have followed.

  Drake and his men followed the last known trail of Ronnie’s husband, the murmur of the viper growing louder with every step. Drake had seen the difference in his men immediately, as soon as he had brought the viper’s song to their attention. They had enlivened and become invigorated, no longer mourning the past.

  Drake also knew his instinct about Veronica’s husband was right, that the two stories were tied together, that the man he sought had been but a casualty in the web of influence spun by the viper.

  Drake was relentless in his pursuit. He felt the vibration of the viper’s monologue beneath his feet. Now that he was aware of it, Drake saw the poison at work everywhere he looked. He heard whisperings of jealousy and hatred on every side. He saw hunger and poverty. He heard the resonance of despondence and a sense of futility. His features set, and he worked ever closer to the source, indifferent to his own exhaustion.

  He would not disappoint Veronica.

  He would keep his promise to her.

  He would bring her the news, whatever it was, the news that none had dared to bring to Cassandra.

  Even with his resolve, it took him days to sort the old echoes from the new ones. The murmuring was so pervasive and had been expressed for so long that the very stones seemed to vibrate with its hatred. It resonated from a deep, deep source.

  And with every step, the spell became more seductive. It was harder to free his thoughts from the viper’s web of influence as the song became louder. He counseled his men and reminded them of the ways they could close their thoughts to such wickedness.

  It was the strongest spell they’d ever faced, and he gave them permission to back away if any of them needed to do so.

  They were resolute, and followed him closely.

  So far.

  Drake followed one dead end and then another, gradually narrowing down the possibilities. As days passed, Drake began to espy signs that his men were falling under the spell of the viper’s increasingly loud enchantment.

  On the third day, two collapsed in spasms and did not move again. The others were spooked for a moment, then their discipline bolstered them.

  Drake did not doubt that he would lose more. They all knew the stakes and the importance of their quest. He could feel them closing their minds to the pervasive chant.

  This viper was old. He would not be easily defeated.

  Drake pressed on. The world around him grew more destitute and he knew they were drawing ever closer to the viper’s lair. There was barbed wire atop the walls and mines below the streets, wounded children and heavily armed men. There was fear in the eyes of many and signs of starvation on hands and faces.

  And as the viper’s spell became more distinct, it became more familiar.

  Cadmus, Drake realized with shock, had not died.

  They would be confronting a foe who had defeated them before.

  Drake had always believed that men were inherently good. He chose to believe that silencing the viper would turn the tide in this land, just as it had in so many others. He was not unafraid. While he had slept for centuries, enchanted, the viper had refined his words and built his strength. Challenging Cadmus would bring out the strongest arsenal that worm had at his disposal.

  Cadmus would want to win.

  Drake was similarly determined to win. It was impossible to guess who would triumph.

  Three more men balked at continuing, one collapsing and the others determined to assist him.

  Cadmus must have become aware of their presence, must have changed his tune specifically to poison the thoughts of Drake and his men. The song wound into old-speak, the words resonating in Drake’s own thoughts when he didn’t specifically force them out.

  Cadmus must be seeking to enchant the Dragon’s Teeth Warriors before they could manage an assault on him.

  That must mean there was a chance they could win.

  Although Drake took encouragement from that, he would not force his men onward. Each man’s choice must be his own. He dared to hope that Cadmus had grown even softer and slower. He dared to hope that if he could deny the seductive spell of Cadmus’ words, he could triumph.

  And change the world for the better.

  When the litany that had only been rhythmic and alluring became more audible, Drake halted at an apothecary. At his command, the Dragon’s Teeth Warriors stuffed cotton wool into their ears. That would dull the sound. With any luck, the cotton would make the words incomprehensible.

  And save his men.

  Drake had led them awry once and would not do as much again.

  He gave the command, but did not u
se cotton himself. His second, Alexander, looked ready to question the choice. Drake lifted a finger to silence him before he spoke. “I will not imperil you all again.”

  Alexander bowed slightly. “Sir, with respect, the exposure we have endured makes us more susceptible, all of us—”

  “He is mine,” Drake interrupted, speaking through clenched teeth. He heard the rare heat in his words and felt himself shimmer on the cusp of change as he held Alexander’s gaze. “I ask only that you guard my back, for as long as you are able. If you choose to halt, there is no shame in it.”

  Alexander inclined his head and took a step back in deference.

  Drake knew his second didn’t agree with his choice, but didn’t care. He pivoted and led them onward.

  The words became more clear as the sun set. The shadows grew longer and the stone more chilly. Drake’s pursuit was relentless. He sensed that he had found the true trail and he was not going to rest until he followed it to its terminus.

  Where the viper would be.

  Delay could give the monster the chance to change his location, or to better defend himself. Drake quickened his pace. They strode through a market, the stalls closed for the night and the crowds gone. He felt three more of his men fall behind, and respected their choice.

  Drake ducked through a café, marched down an alley, ignored a man who would have kept him from entering an old office building. Drake heard the words growing louder with every step, although he refused to listen to their meaning.

  Instead he thought of Cassandra.

  And Veronica. He thought of strength in the face of adversity, he thought about good triumphing over wickedness, and that armed him against the viper’s chant.

  Drake halted when he saw traces of blood on a concrete step. Drake sniffed of it, knew it was human, and suspected he knew whose blood it was. The mark was dry and dark, days old.

  Too old.

  Drake sighed deeply. He should have guessed that a man of merit, one bent on eliminating evil, would have found his way to the viper and those under the viper’s influence. He did not imagine that Maitland’s quest had ended well.

  But he had promised Veronica the truth. The chant grew in intensity, wafting over the threshold ahead of him, beckoning him onward.

  To doom or to triumph?

  Alexander’s nostrils flared as he bent to sniff the blood. Alexander was the best tracker among them, his senses even more keen than most Pyr. “Same bloodline as the boy,” he murmured and Drake nodded. He nodded at the door and Alexander’s lips tightened.

  Two more warriors hesitated on the threshold, refusing to follow Drake as they shook with fear. The memory of the enchantment, of the powerlessness to escape the viper’s venomous song, was too powerful. Drake ceded the loss without comment. He would not lead a man unwillingly into this danger.

  Beyond the door was a basement, one lit with only a single bulb. Drake paused to assess it. There were steel doors on either side of the basement, making it essentially a corridor which bent at the end. The walls were cinderblock and it was colder than a tomb.

  The viper’s words wound into Drake’s thoughts, insidious and horribly compelling. He concentrated on the memory of his wife and his son. He fixed his thoughts on Veronica and her son. He thought of hope, as opposed to despair, and he chose to believe that good could triumph.

  He thought about Timmy living in a better world.

  Drake indicated the doors and strode onward. The Dragon’s Teeth Warriors stopped to investigate each door, silently following routine, as Drake pressed on. A man came into the basement behind them, waving an assault rifle. The warrior at the back of the group struck him hard and he went down without having fired a shot.

  But more men erupted suddenly into the basement, some coming from the street, others from the doors in the corridor. Drake gave a minute nod. The cadence of evil was strong here. He knew he was close to the source and that these men, who listened continually to the viper’s words, could not be redeemed.

  There was a flash of blue, then the Dragon’s Teeth Warriors shifted shape and the carnage began. They made steady progress through the ranks of the men, their impassivity in marked contrast to the men’s panic. The last Dragon’s Teeth Warrior secured the door to the street with fire and fear.

  There would be no escape for these lost men.

  Drake continued, peering around the corner, Alexander at his side. More doors lined the continuation of the corridor, but it terminated in a steel firedoor. That door had no handle and a man stood on either side of it, weapon at the ready.

  One fired at Drake, his shock and dismay at facing dragons clear.

  Drake and Alexander charged the pair, raging dragonfire. The men fired again and again, but their shots went wild in their fear. Drake and Alexander ripped them to shreds, casting their bodies aside. Three of the Dragon’s Teeth Warriors came around the corner to support their commander. Drake saw their resolve, saw their satisfaction in finding purpose again.

  Drake listened, but he heard nothing except the enchanting litany of hatred. He nodded and Alexander ripped the door from its hinges.

  Four men were secreted there, braced for a fight, and they fired instantly upon Drake and his men. Drake breathed a stream of brilliant dragonfire, setting their clothes and their bodies alight. He could smell the wickedness on them and had no patience with their obstruction.

  Was Veronica’s husband alive?

  When the dust settled, Drake saw that there was a labyrinth hidden beneath the building. Cadmus must have sensed their proximity for his words grew in volume.

  Drake indicated the various corridors, dispatching men to ensure their vacancy. He could smell blood, the blood of those they had slain, and he could feel the chill of the earth. He peered into the shadows, his keen gaze put to full use. He caught a whiff of terror, human terror, and turned his steps in that direction.

  He had torn open the door to what proved to be a cell before he smelled something else.

  Drake smelled death.

  The man on the floor was still, and Drake knew with a glance that it was a mercy. He had been battered and abused, his body burned and tormented. He was nude, but Drake feared he knew the fallen man’s identity.

  Drake stepped into the room, wary. This had been a handsome man, trim and muscular. His skin was cold, his body stiffening, and Drake regretted that he had not arrived sooner.

  How much of him would have been left, even days before? He felt respect for this fallen soldier, for Cadmus’ song was strong here. It would take a man of uncommon bravery to venture so near to a viper’s den. It had taken one of cunning and boldness to infiltrate this place, alone.

  It would take a man determined to eliminate evil, regardless of the price.

  Drake wished he had known this man.

  There was something in the dead man’s hand. Drake knelt beside him and carefully removed it, smoothing it against his own palm. It told him the man’s identity more clearly than anything else could have done. Why had those in thrall to Cadmus’ song left him this token? It couldn’t have been out of kindness, not with that hateful spell making every heart pump in rhythm.

  Maybe they had wanted to break his spirit, as well. Drake considered the man’s expression, which was determined even in death, and doubted their success.

  He tucked the photograph into his pocket with care.

  “Take him to the embassy,” he instructed Alexander in old-speak.

  “I will not leave you.”

  Drake levelled a look at his second. “This viper is mine.”

  Alexander stared at Drake for a moment, then inclined his head.

  “I condemned you all once,” Drake said more kindly. “Now I defend you, as is my responsibility. He is our work left undone and I would finish what was begun.”

  Alexander stepped back, more willingly this time, and a shudder rolled through his body in the same instant. The viper was affecting him, even with his ears blocked.

  “Go in
haste,” Drake instructed. “If I do not return by sunrise, the command is yours.”

  Alexander caught his breath, then moved quickly to do as instructed. No sooner had they moved Maitland’s body than Drake shifted shape again. The viper’s song grew louder and more seductive. Drake roared, then swung his tail. The cinderblock wall cracked along the mortar lines on the first blow, crumbling on the fourth strike.

  The words poured from the darkness beyond. The space was small. Although he would have preferred to have continued in dragon form, for his keener senses, the constraints of space did not allow it. He shifted, with reluctance.

  Drake stepped through the gap in human form, smelled the dank darkness, and jammed cotton into his ears before he moved forward with purpose. Cadmus’ song grew more vehement, winding into Drake’s thoughts as if there was no impediment.

  Could he hold fast to do what had to be done?

  He would triumph or he would die in the attempt.

  Either way, Veronica would have her truth.

  IV

  The spell of enchantment slid into Drake’s head, filling his mind with thoughts that were not his own. Every step made the words more persuasive. Every level he descended seemed to add to the resonance of the spell.

  Was he not tired? Was he not worn down by his efforts? His shoulder was sore, his feet hurt and his knuckles were bleeding. Could he not simply sleep? He could sit down, right in this cave, and rest for a while.

  It would be harmless.

  Inevitable.

  Sensible.

  Drake shouldered on, knowing a spell when he heard one.

  The tunnels became darker and colder, secreted deep in the earth. He found marks of the viper’s passing, and felt the vibration of its hateful song beneath his feet. He thought of all the suffering it had created and marched on.

  Why did he want to save humans, when they could do so much ill to each other? He could imagine what had been done to Cassandra, and to Theo, all at the hands of the people of their village. They had always been afraid of him and his powers. Had that fear been turned against his family? Had they been destroyed because of their association with him?