Talon, Page 3

  And then, my phone chirped sharply in the quiet.

  Digging it out of my pocket, I held it up just as Dante’s phone went off, too. We shared a glance, then gazed down at the screen. There was a new text from Liam and Sarah, and a cold knot settled in my stomach as I read it.

  Come home, it ordered, simply. Now.

  Dante immediately rose to his feet, dusting himself off. “We gotta go,” he told the group, who “aahed” at him in protest. He grinned and shrugged. “Sorry, family calls. Ember, come on.”

  I didn’t move. It wasn’t curfew. Liam and Sarah had said we could go where we pleased as long as they knew where we were. They were only human. What were they going to do, come out and drag us home by the ear? “I’m not ready yet,” I told him, making his eyes widen. “You go ahead. I’ll catch up.”

  His eyes narrowed to dangerous green slits as he glared down at me. I knew what he was saying, just from that stare. We knew each other so well, it almost echoed in my brain.

  We have to go, it told me. We have to obey the guardians, because Talon put them in charge. Don’t screw this up for us.

  I glared back. I want to stay. I’m just getting the hang of this.

  His gaze sharpened. You’re going to get us in trouble.

  You go, then. I shrugged, settling back on my elbows, my intent crystal clear. I’m staying right here.

  All this passed between us in a heartbeat. But then, Dante stopped glaring, and his expression turned pleading as he mouthed, Please.

  I slumped. Angry Dante I could handle, but scared, beseeching Dante always got to me. “Fine,” I muttered, and got to my feet, dusting sand from my clothes. “Let’s go, then.” I gave my twin one last glower that said, You owe me, and he smiled. With a last longing look at the bonfire and the flames licking gloriously over the wood, I turned my back on the group and stalked up the beach with my brother.

  Aunt Sarah and Uncle Liam were waiting for us in the living room, but they weren’t the only ones.

  As soon as we walked through the door, my primal instincts flared, hissing and cringing as a pair of cold, unamused gazes met mine. They were dragons; there was no mistaking that aura of power and the way my own dragon shrank away, wanting to flee from another, stronger predator. Yeah, Talon might be superorganized and spread all over the world, but centuries of survival instincts could not be forgotten just because we were “civilized” now. And when a hatchling was faced with two scary-looking, fully mature adult dragons, even in human form, it was hard to stay put when all her survival instincts were telling her to slink away with her tail between her legs.

  “Hello, students.” One of them stepped forward, acid-green eyes piercingly bright. She was actually the scarier of the two—a tall, elegant woman in a black Armani suit, her blond hair pulled into a tight bun. Her male companion, also dressed in black Armani, watched with his hands folded in front of him. His dark hair was slicked back, his eyes flat and cold, but it was the female who radiated danger, even as she smiled at me. Her three-inch heels clicked over the tile as she stopped at the edge of the living room and regarded me as if I were a curious bug that had crawled from beneath the door. “There’s been a change of plans.”

  Garret

  I crouched in the damp, steamy undergrowth of the Brazilian rain forest, insects humming around me, feeling sweat trickle down my back beneath my combat armor. Beside me, another soldier knelt motionless in the ferns, his M-16 held in both hands, muzzle slanting down across his chest. The rest of our squad, eight in all, were scattered behind us, silent and watchful.

  About a hundred yards away, up a narrow gravel road through a sparse, dying lawn, the low earthen walls of the hacienda shimmered in the afternoon heat. Guards wandered the perimeter, AK-47s slung over their shoulders, unaware that they were being watched. I’d counted six outside; there were twice that number indoors, not to mention an unknown quantity of servants. And, of course, our target. The guards and servants were unimportant; casualties were expected on both sides. Taking out the target was our first and only priority.

  I spoke quietly into the headset at my jaw. “Bravo in position.”

  “Good,” muttered the staticky voice in my ear. “Alpha will advance as soon as the first shell hits. Hold your ground until the target has shown itself.”

  “Understood.”

  The soldier beside me took a deep, quiet breath and let it out slowly. He was a few years older than me and had a shiny burn scar that covered nearly half his face. He’d seen action before; everyone on this squad had. Some were venerable veterans, having several kills under their belt. No green soldiers here, not with what we had to do. Everyone knew what was expected, from the assault team out front to Tristan’s snipers waiting in the trees. I looked over my team, feeling a brief ache of resignation and acceptance. Some of us would fall today. When facing an enemy as powerful as this, death was almost certain. We were prepared. All of us were ready to die for the Order. No hesitation.

  “Get ready,” I told the squad. “We start in thirty and counting.”

  They nodded, grim and silent. We huddled in the thick jungle, blending into the vegetation. I counted down the seconds in my head, my gaze never leaving the hacienda walls.

  Three, I thought as a whistle sounded overhead, faint at first, then growing louder and louder, until it was almost deafening. Two...one...

  The mortar shell struck the hacienda with an explosion of fire and smoke, sending pieces of the roof in every direction. Instantly, the squad waiting on the edge of the clearing in front of the house opened fire, filling the air with the roar of machine guns. Cries of alarm came from within the building as enemy soldiers rushed into the front yard, diving behind cover and returning fire. A grenade flew over the wall, thrown by one of the guards, and an explosion of dirt erupted where it landed.

  I could feel the tension in the soldiers behind me as we watched the scene play out. Not yet, I thought as one of Alpha’s soldiers jerked and collapsed to the lawn. Hold your position.

  Alpha squad pressed forward, firing short, precise bursts as they advanced on the house. Shots ricocheted off trees and plaster, men screamed and the roar of gunfire echoed above the hacienda roof. Reinforcements rushed out, joining the firefight, but the target did not appear.

  Come on, I thought, looking up toward the estate walls. Another Alpha soldier jerked and went down, bleeding in the grass. There was little cover on the flat expanse to the estate, while the enemy guards crouched behind the low wall and poked their muzzles over the top. Another soldier fell, and I narrowed my eyes. Come on, take the bait. We know you’re in there. Where are you?

  Alpha was halfway up the lawn when the roof exploded.

  Something dark, scaly and massive erupted from the hacienda, sending tile and wood flying as it launched itself into the air. My heart jumped as I watched the monster soar above the canopy. It was huge, a full-grown adult, the height of a bull elephant and three times as long. Curved horns spiraled up from its narrow skull, and a mane of spines ran down its neck to a long, thrashing tail. The sun glinted off midnight scales, and leathery wings cast a long shadow over the ground as the dragon hovered in the air, glaring down at the battle below, then dove to attack.

  Wings flared, it landed on the lawn with a roar that shook the earth, then sent a cone of flame blasting through the ranks of soldiers. Bodies fell away, screaming, flailing, as hellish dragonfire consumed armor and flesh like tinder. The dragon pounced, scything through the ranks with its claws, crushing soldiers in its teeth before flinging them away. Its tail whipped out, striking an entire group coming up behind it and knocking them aside like bowling pins.

  Now! I leaped to my feet, as did the rest of my squad, and opened fire on the huge reptile. The M-16s chattered in sharp, three-round bursts, and I aimed carefully for the dragon’s side, behind the front foreleg where the heart would
be. Blood erupted along the armored hide, and the dragon roared as some of the shots pierced through scales, though not enough to kill it. It staggered, and I pressed forward grimly, concentrating fire on its weak points. The quicker we killed it, the less damage it could do and the fewer lives it would take. There could be no hesitation on our part; it was either us or the dragon.

  Directly across from us, a black jeep with a mounted .50-caliber Browning M2 burst from the bushes, and machine-gun fire joined the cacophony as the vehicle sped toward the huge reptile. Caught in a deadly crossfire, the dragon roared. Bounding away, it opened its leathery wings and launched itself into the air with a powerful downward thrust.

  “Aim for the wings!” the commander barked in my ear, though I was already switching targets, methodically firing at the sweeping membranes. “Bring it down! Don’t let it fly away.”

  But the dragon had no intention of fleeing. It turned and swooped from the sky, dropping fifteen tons of scales, teeth and claws onto its target. It smashed full force into the jeep, halting the vehicle’s momentum, crushing the hood and causing the driver to smash into the windshield. The gunner flew from the back and tumbled to the ground, sprawling limply in the ferns. With a triumphant bellow, the dragon overturned the vehicle, crushing metal and glass and turning the jeep into a mangled wreck. I winced, but there was no time to think on the lives lost. We would pay our respects to the fallen when the battle was won.

  My squad switched fire back to the dragon’s flank. Streaked with blood, the dragon jerked, and that long neck snapped around, a murderous gleam in its red eyes as it glared in our direction.

  “Hold position!” I snapped to the rest of my squad as the dragon roared a challenge and spun, tail lashing. “I’ll draw it off. Keep firing!”

  A couple of them glanced at me, grim and resigned, but they didn’t argue. Better one soldier fall than the entire team. I was squad leader; if I died so that my brothers could keep fighting, the sacrifice would be worth it. They knew that as well as I did.

  I left my hiding place and started forward, firing short, controlled bursts as I did, heading around the dragon’s side. Spotting me, the dragon reared its head back and took a breath, and my pulse spiked. I dove away as fire erupted from its jaws, searing into the jungle and setting the trees ablaze. Rolling to my feet, I looked up to see the huge lizard coming for me, maw gaping wide. My heart pounded, but my hands remained steady as I raised my gun and fired at the horned skull, knowing the thick breastplate would protect its chest and stomach. The dragon flinched, shaking its head as the shots struck its bony brow and cheekbones, and kept coming.

  I threw myself to the side as the dragon’s head shot forward, jaws snapping shut in the spot I had been. Quick as a snake, it whipped its neck around and lunged again, teeth that could shear through a telephone pole coming right at me. I avoided the six-inch fangs, but the massive horned head still crashed into my side, and even through the combat vest, pain erupted through my ribs. The ground fell away as the force hurled me into the air, the world spinning around me, and I rolled several paces when I struck the earth again. Clenching my jaw, I pushed myself to my elbows and looked up...

  ...into the crimson eyes of my enemy.

  The dragon loomed overhead, dark and massive, its wings partially open to cast a huge shadow over the ground. I stared into its ancient, alien face, saw myself reflected in those cold red eyes that held no mercy, no pity or understanding—just raw hate and savage triumph. It took a breath, nostrils flaring, and I braced myself for the killing flames. There was no fear, no remorse. I was a soldier of St. George; to die honorably in battle against our oldest foe was all I could hope for.

  A single shot rang out from somewhere in the jungle, the sharp retort echoing loudly even in the chaos. The dragon lurched sideways with a roar, a bright spray of blood erupting from its side as the armor-piercing .50-caliber sniper round struck behind its foreleg, straight into the heart. The precision perfect shot that Tristan St. Anthony was known for.

  The blow knocked the dragon off its feet, and the ground shook as it finally collapsed. Wailing, it struggled to rise, clawing at the ground, wings and tail thrashing desperately. But it was dying, its struggles growing weaker even as the soldiers continued to pump it full of rounds. From where I lay, I watched its head hit the ground with a thump, watched its struggles grow weaker and weaker, until it was almost still. Only the faint, labored rise and fall of its ribs, and the frantic twitch of its tail, showed it was still clinging to life.

  As it lay there, gasping, it suddenly rolled its eye back and looked at me, the slitted, bright red pupil staring up from the dirt. For a moment, we stared at each other, dragon and slayer, caught in an endless cycle of war and death.

  I bowed my head, still keeping the dragon in my sights, and murmured, “In nomine Domini Sabaoth, sui filiiqui ite ad Infernos.” In the name of the Lord of Hosts and his son, depart to hell. An incantation taught to all soldiers, from when they believed dragons were demons and might possess you in a final attempt to remain in the world. I knew better. Dragons were flesh and blood; get past their scales and armor, and they died just like anything else. But they were also warriors, brave in their own way, and every warrior deserved a final send-off.

  A low rumble came from the dying dragon. Its jaws opened, and a deep, inhuman voice emerged. “Do not think you have won, St. George,” it rasped, glaring at me in disdain. “I am but a single scale in the body of Talon. We will endure, as we always have, and we grow stronger even as your race destroys itself from within. You, and all your kind, will fall before us. Soon.”

  Then the light behind the crimson orbs dimmed. The dragon’s lids closed, its head dropped to the ground and its whole body shuddered. With a final spasm, the wings stilled, the tail beating the earth ceased and the huge reptile went limp as it finally gave up its fight for life.

  I collapsed to my back in the dirt as cheers rose around me. Soldiers emerged from the trees, shaking their weapons and letting out victory cries. Beyond the massive corpse, bodies from both sides lay scattered about the lawn, some stirring weakly, some charred to blackened husks. Flames still flickered through the trees, black columns of smoke billowing into the sky. The crumpled remains of the jeep smoldered in the middle of the field, a testament to the awesome power of the huge reptile.

  The firefight with the guards had ceased. Now that their master was gone, the last of the enemy was fleeing into the jungle. No orders were given to track them down; we already had what we’d come for. In a few minutes, another crew would chopper in, clean up the debris, raze the hacienda and make all the bodies disappear. No one would ever know that a monstrous, fire-breathing creature of legend had died here this afternoon.

  I looked at the lifeless dragon, crumpled in the dirt while the squads milled around its body and grinned and slapped one another on the back. A few soldiers approached the huge carcass, shaking their heads at the size, disgust and awe written on their faces. I stayed where I was. It was not the first dead dragon I’d seen, though it was the largest I’d ever fought. It would not be the last.

  I wondered, very briefly, if there would ever be a “last.”

  Dragons are evil; that was what every soldier of St. George was taught. They are demons. Wyrms of the devil. Their final goal is the enslavement of the human race, and we are the only ones standing between them and the ignorant.

  While I wasn’t certain about the entire wyrms of the devil part, our enemy certainly was strong, cunning and savage. My own family had been murdered by a dragon when I was just a toddler. I’d been rescued by the Order and trained to take the fight back to the monsters that had slaughtered my parents and sister. For every dragon I killed, more human lives would be spared.

  I’d fought enough battles, seen enough of what they could do, to know firsthand that they were ruthless. Merciless. Inhuman. Their power was vast, and they only got stron
ger with age. Thankfully, there weren’t many ancient dragons in the world anymore, or at least, most of our battles were against smaller, younger dragons. To take down this huge, powerful adult was an enormous victory for our side. I felt no remorse in killing the beast; this dragon was a central figure in the South American cartels, responsible for the deaths of thousands. The world was a better place with it gone. Maybe through my actions today, some little kid wouldn’t have to grow up an orphan, never knowing his family. It was the least I could do, and I did it gladly. I owed my family that much.

  My ribs gave a sharp, painful throb, and I gritted my teeth. Now that the adrenaline had worn off and the fight was done, I turned my attention to my injury. My combat vest had absorbed a good bit of the damage, but judging from the pain in my side, the force of the blow had still cracked a rib or two.

  “Well, that was amusing. If you ever get tired of the soldier life, you should consider a career as a dragon soccer ball. You flew nearly twenty feet on that last hit.”

  I raised my head as a mound of weeds and moss melted out of the undergrowth and shuffled to my side. It carried a Barrett M107A1 .50-caliber sniper rifle in one shaggy limb, and the other reached up to tug back its hood, revealing a smirking, dark-haired soldier four years my senior, his eyes so blue they were almost black.

  “You okay?” Tristan St. Anthony asked, crouching down beside me. His ghillie suit rustled as he shrugged out of it, setting it and the rifle carefully aside. “Anything broken?”

  “No,” I gritted out, setting my jaw as pain stabbed through me. “I’m fine. Nothing serious, it’s just a cracked rib or two.” I breathed cautiously as the commander emerged from the trees and slowly made his way across the field. I watched him bark orders to the other squads, point at the dragon and the bodies scattered about, and I struggled carefully upright. The medic would be here in a few minutes, taking stock of the wounded, seeing who could be saved. I didn’t want to give the impression that I was seriously hurt, not when many other soldiers lay on the brink of death. The commander met my gaze over the carnage, gave a tiny nod of approval and continued on.