Mortal Danger

TWENTY-NINE

RULE woke from his first true, deep sleep in hell with a hard ache in his leg; the scents of earth, water, and smoke in his nostrils; and a clear head. He lay quietly, eyes closed, savoring the relief.

Most of his memories of the period immediately following the demon’s bone-setting were a blur of pain punctuated by fitful sleep. Lily had woken him periodically, coaxing him to drink from her cupped hands. Sometimes he’d woken on his own. She’d always been near.

He did recall how he’d gotten to the cave. Lily had called down a dragon.

The agony of having his bone set had left him too weak and dizzy to stand. She’d been determined to get him in the cave, where there was water, since they lacked any kind of bowl or pot. The demon was strong enough to handle Rule’s weight, but too small to manage his bulk. Lily had gotten one of the “coverings” the dragon had mentioned, a thick braided mat she could use as a stretcher. But there had been no way to lower him from the sandbox to the beach.

He’d tried to tell her to wait until he’d healed enough to do it on his own. Maybe his meaning lost something in the translation, or maybe she was just stubborn. She’d called for help.

One of the coppery-brown dragons had descended. Rule remembered the way Lily had ordered it to be careful of his ribs and gentle when it set him down. He remembered the miserable jerk of the takeoff, too, with the talons wrapped around his middle, but the flight had been brief. And the dragon had sent him down gently as ordered, right on the mat Lily had waiting outside the cave. Gan had dragged him in.

He’d been glad of the water, he admitted now. But his bladder was about to burst.

How long had he been sleeping?

Rule was familiar with injury and its aftermath. Lupi played hard, trained hard, and often fought hard, and their bodies cleansed themselves of pain killers and as efficiently as they disposed of alcohol and other toxins. So pain was no stranger. He knew to ride it, not fight it. But he’d never been cut off from the sweet song of the moon or away from Earth’s rhythms.

He hadn’t been sure he would heal.

Lupi drew from both earth and moon magic. The Change was wrought by their interplay, when the moon’s call set the earth dancing in his blood and bones. Here there was no moon, and this earth wasn’t Earth. Yet it was enough like his earth, it seemed. His sense of time was distorted, but he thought no more than a day or two had passed—a little slow, but close enough to his normal rate of healing.

His hunger fit that estimate. It had been much too long since he’d eaten.

He took a moment more to assess his situation. His head didn’t hurt at all, so the concussion was healed. His ribs… well, he’d find out in a moment. Scents told him that Lily was near but not right beside him. He smelled demon and dragon, too, but more faintly—neither were present now. Good. But the smoke… what was that from?

He opened his eyes.

The cave was a single chamber about twenty feet deep, fairly regular, with a sandy floor. It was dim where he lay near the rear, but he saw well enough. The rough ceiling was less than five feet overhead—enough head room for him in this form, but Lily must have had to stoop to tend him.

The fire was near the cave’s mouth. So was Lily. She was feeding it sticks. She was clothed, he noted with surprise. She’d wrapped a length of red fabric around her torso like a sarong. More of the dragon’s coverings, he supposed. Like the one beneath him, the braided mat Gan had dragged him in here on.

Time to find out what shape he was in. Awkwardly he clambered to his feet, holding the splinted leg carefully.

Shit. That hurt. Just his leg, though. The ribs were tender, but not painful. Good. They’d be fully healed in another day or so. His leg would take longer. That had been a bad break. A week? Maybe a little more…

“What do you think you’re doing?” Lily made a bee-line for him. “You don’t need to be standing, for God’s sake. Lie down. Whatever you need, I’ll get it.”

He looked at her wryly and started for the mouth of the cave, clumsy but determined. Some things she couldn’t do for him.

“Rule. You’re not listening.” She kept pace beside him, looking worried. “You do understand me, don’t you?”

He nodded.

“Well, then, why… oh.” She nodded. “Right. Uh, I’ve been using the grassy area for a privy, but that’s too far for you. I guess… what’s wrong?”

He’d paused in the mouth of the cave. Surely it had been lighter before. He looked up at the sky, where two dragons soared, high above. It was definitely darker than it had been. He looked at her.

“The light’s fading,” she agreed. “Looks like night does fall in hell, after all. Or in parts of it. Gan says there’s no natural night and day here, but light and darkness get tugged around by the different demon lords. Xitil keeps her realm light most of the time, but the lord of the realm over there”—she waved out at the ocean— “goes for a more regular light-dark cycle. The dragons can’t regulate their territory the way the demon lords do, so it trends along with its neighbors. This close to the ocean, we’re in for bouts of darkness. That’s one reason I wanted the fire.”

He glanced over at it, nodded, and resumed his slow progress.

She kept pace beside him. “I sent Gan for some firewood. There wasn’t much on the beach to burn. I hope it gets back soon—I’m almost out of sticks.” She grinned. “At first Gan said starting a fire was easy, that demons can all do small magics like that. But he—it—took forever to get this one going. It blames the dragons, of course.”

He glanced at her.

“Apparently they have sort of a dampening effect on magic. Gan says they soak it up.”

The demon had said earlier that dragons were immune to magic. Apparently they weren’t immune in the way Lily was, though, with it bouncing off them. They simply absorbed it.

That is, if the stupid little shit was telling the truth, or even knew what was true. Where was the demon, anyway? Rule looked up and down the beach. No sign of it—and that bright orange skin did stand out.

Well, he was far enough from the cave now. He’d have to squat and pee like a girl, though. He didn’t think he could balance on two legs.

As soon as he started, his attentive nurse discovered a sudden need to attend to something in the cave.

He hobbled back. It was awkward as hell. He promised himself that the next time he saw a three-legged dog hopping around he’d have a better appreciation for the skill involved.

If he ever saw a dog again. Or anything else of Earth.

Lily was messing with the fire. She looked up, her expression almost shy. “Are you hungry? There’s some fruit. A little meat, too… well, dead animals, really. There’s two of them. There were three, but I tried to skin one and made a mess of it. I’ve been sharpening one of the bones the dragons brought when we splinted your leg,” she added, “but it’s not much of a knife.”

He could smell the game—at least a day dead, but not spoiled. It would do. He gave her a nod and started for the back of the cave.

“No, I’ll get it.” She stood. “You’ve been rambling around enough.”

He decided not to object, partly because that short walk had left him stupidly winded, partly because of the look on her face.

Happiness. He hadn’t seen that in her eyes since her sister’s wedding.

He lay down near the fire. The flames were small and gave off little heat, but a welter of emotions. Fire was a comfort for humans, bane to most beasts. He was uneasily aware of how little he enjoyed the flames. Surely the man hadn’t slipped so far away in such a short time?

And yet he’d attacked without thought. When he learned what the demon had done, that his mate was dying because of it, there had been only the killing rage, the need to feel the demon’s life bleed away beneath his teeth.

If the dragon hadn’t stopped him, he would have been responsible for Lily’s death.

He held no anger for the dragon over his injury. He’d earned his broken leg. It scraped against his raw places now for Lily to look so happy at the chance to do him a service, when he deserved it so little.

She needed the demon now. Needed it far more than she did him. And however ugly that thought was, he’d better get used to it. He had to get along with Gan somehow, or he’d make things harder for her.

But what, he wondered with a blind sort of agony, had happened to the part of her left behind? What became of such a strange remnant? Lady, he thought, and stopped, unsure what to ask. Lady, she is yours. Care for her. All of her.

Lilly brought back two creatures that looked like a cross between a rat and a naked jackrabbit. Nothing he’d seen here had fur. She glanced from the limp bodies to the fire. “I could cook them. Or try to.”

He shook his head. Even in this form he enjoyed his meat cooked when it wasn’t a fresh kill, but he was too hungry to wait.

Before he could take the game from her hand, though, he heard something approaching. He bristled to warn Lily. A few seconds later, he heard Gan muttering under its breath. A surge of loathing flattened his ears.

“Rule? What is it?”

The demon came into view. “This better be enough wood,” it grumbled. It was carrying several branches under one arm. “I had to climb to the top to get it.”

Lily frowned at Rule. “It’s just Gan. You aren’t going to attack it again, are you?”

It was harder than it should have been to remember the reasons he couldn’t. The wolf wanted to, badly. And the man didn’t disagree, but knew better.

His tail twitched in disgust, partly at himself. He took the two rat-rabbits from Lily’s hand. He’d eat them outside. Less of a mess—and he wouldn’t have to smell the demon while he ate.

He passed Gan on the threshold.

“Hey, look who’s awake,” it said. “It’s old dark, mute, and crippled. Going to have a picnic, fur-face?”

Rule ignored it, carrying his meal several paces away and lying down. He glanced up. The sky was much darker now, more gray than copper, and the air had that near-shimmer of approaching twilight. And there were more dragons overhead than before—three, five… six now, and wasn’t that another one headed this way?

Either they wanted extra guards at night, or the dragons were protection as well as jailers. Night often brought new dangers, and they didn’t want Lily killed.

On that one point, he and the dragons agreed. He bit into a rat-rabbit and grimaced. Good thing he wasn’t a picky eater.

“How far away do you think you were?” Lily asked the demon.

“How do I know?”

“Guess. I want to know the limits of this bond.”

That jolted Rule. It echoed so precisely the way she’d reacted to the mate bond—test it, learn the parameters.

“Maybe three kilometers.” There was a clatter as Gan dropped its load.

“Did you go to the limit of the bond?”

“I said I would, didn’t I? It was like walking into a Zone that doesn’t want you there. Everything turned thick and I couldn’t breathe, so I backed up.”

“I didn’t feel anything.” Lily crouched to feed one of the smaller branches into the fire. “Break a couple more in half, would you? They’re too big.”

“Of course you didn’t feel anything.” Gan cracked a three-inch thick branch over its knee. “I’m the one partly inside you, not the other way around.”

The bond between Lily and the demon wasn’t exactly like the mate bond, then. That didn’t make Rule feel any better.

Rule finished off the first rat-rabbit methodically, glancing overhead every so often. The dragons were gathering along the top of the cliff. Odd. He’d stay out here a while, he decided. Keep watch.

“How did the dragons react to you climbing the cliff?” she asked.

“One of them kept track of me, but from a distance. They know I can’t go far. You’ll keep your end of our deal now, right?”

Rule stiffened, looking back at the cave. Lily had made a deal with the demon?

Lily had her fire going nicely now. She sat beside it. “Of course. One load of firewood equals five rounds of I Spy”

Gan grinned, showing its pointy teeth. “I get to go first.” It plopped down on the dirt floor, stubby legs extended, and leaned back on its tail as it looked around, its gaze landing on Rule outside. “I spy something furry and stupid.”

“Your turn will be over fast if you play that way,” Lily said. “And you’re supposed to use colors, remember?”

Rule shook his head and finished eating to the sound of “I spy something gray” and Lily’s guesses. With the light nearly gone, almost everything in the cave was some shade of gray, so the game was likely to last a while.

How could she stand to be around the creature? She was playing kids games with it, for God’s sake. If he…

A low, mournful sound drew his gaze up.

There were seven dragons now. Seven dragons lined up along the top of the cliff, silhouetted against the darkening sky, their long necks stretched up.

Again the sound came… longer, deeper. Haunting. A little like a didjeridu, he thought. And the dragons were making it.

He’d thought them mute. Not dumb, no—they had mindspeech, possibly true telepathy. But not once had he heard any of them make a sound, not a grunt or a cough, until now. Now, when they sang to the gathering dusk.

Inside the cave, Lily looked up. “What’s that?”

Rule yipped: Come out. Come out and hear this. Another dragon had joined the first, and another.

“It’s just the dragons,” Gan said. “And it’s still my turn.”

“In a minute.” Lily stood.

“We aren’t finished!” Gan cried.

“Hush. I’ll finish later. I want to hear this.” She came out to stand beside Rule, looking up, as he was.

The dragons’ long necks were their instruments. Lungs accustomed to charging those big bodies with enough oxygen to sustain flight powered their song, and they wrapped their voices together in harmonies like nothing he’d ever imagined—eerie, wordless, haunting.

He glanced at Lily. Everything he felt was on her face—awe, grief, a poignancy as vast as the growing darkness. She met his gaze and then sat beside him, their bodies touching. And for a timeless period, Rule forgot everything he’d lost, everything he stood to lose, in the glory of dragonsong.

It was full dark when it ended. Not pitch black; more like new-moon dark, Rule thought, once he could think again. Lily was leaning against him.

He turned to look at her, aching to put his arms around her. But even if he’d had the right-shaped mouth to speak, he didn’t have words for what he’d just experienced.

Her face was damp. She met his eyes… and yawned. “Oh,” she said, startled, and did it again. “I thought… but I’m sleepy. Really sleepy.”

Everything inside Rule smiled. He’d worried about her sleeplessness. Her body might no longer want sleep, but the human mind needed to dream. He nudged her with his nose.

She gave a little laugh. “I guess I’d better get inside. I feel like I’ve been up for days… I have been, haven’t I? But this hit so suddenly…” This time she yawned like she was going to crack her jaw.

He nudged her again. She smiled, pushed his muzzle away, and stood, blinking. “Straight to bed, I think.” She looked a little unsteady as she headed for the cave.

Gan was inside, sulking, playing some game with a few small pieces of bones. “Are you finally going to finish our game?”

“Sorry, Gan. I’m not going to be able to stay awake long…” Another yawn. “Long enough. I’ll give you an extra round tomorrow to make up for waiting,” she promised, heading for the back of the cave, wobbling a little.

“Shit.” Gan stared after her. “It gets dark, and she conks out.”

Rule thought the darkness was coincidence, but maybe not. He followed her.

Moments after lying down on the mat where he’d slept, she was asleep. He sat beside her for a while, listening to Gan mutter. The demon seemed to be trying to levitate the bones. It wasn’t having much luck.

He was, he realized, extremely thirsty. But nature called. He went outside to take care of that and then returned to drink from the small basin filled by the spring. He was getting better at the three-legged bit, he thought. But bending to drink was a bitch.

He emptied the basin and was waiting for it to refill when he noticed an odd scent. Curious, he followed his nose to a boulder. Dragon-scent, he realized. Faint enough that he hadn’t picked up on it from a distance. And not just any dragon—this smelled of the one he thought of as Old Black. The one who’d told Lily to call him Sam.

He looked up at the ceiling, puzzled. That huge beast couldn’t have fit back here. His tail, maybe… Rule checked the ground around the spring and the boulder. Only the boulder held the scent.

He’d moved it, Rule realize. The dragon had moved the boulder. To hide something? Something like—a way out? Excited, Rule yipped.

“Go chase your tail,” Gan said, staring at its bone fragments. “I’m busy.” One of the pieces lifted about an inch at one end but then fell. “Stupid fucker!” Gan cried. “Those dragons have eaten all the stupid magic here!”

Rule studied the boulder. He could have moved it himself, if he had hands. As it was… he sighed and hobbled to the front of the cave. He growled softly.

“Go away,” Gan muttered, resting its chin in its hands “I’m not moving any stupid rocks for you.”

Rule drew in the dirt with his paw—two horizontal lines crossed by two vertical lines. He put an X in one square and growled again.

Gan sat up straighten Its expression was funny, as if it was trying not to look happy. “Tic-tac-toe? Well… it’s not as good as I Spy, but you can’t talk, can you? Okay, I guess I could do it. For twenty games, and you let me win every one.”

Rule stared. The demon thought that would be fun? Knowing Rule was letting it win, it would still enjoy playing? He growled.

“Okay, okay. Ten games, but I win them all.”

Why not? Rule nodded and then added a growl that meant: If you can do it. You don’t get anything for failing.

“Ha. Of course I can do it.” The little demon waddled to the back of the cave, and Rule showed it what he wanted moved. Gan and the boulder were the same height. It studied the rock for a moment—then, as Rule watched in amazement, it grew smaller.

After a second he caught on. The demon had redistributed its mass to make itself almost as inert as the boulder. It spread its newly shortened legs, pressed its tail into the ground, and began pushing.

The boulder rolled. And behind it… darkness. Stale air.

A tunnel.

Dread rose in Rule. He had a horror of small, closed spaces. If he went in there and Gan pushed the boulder back…

“I get to go first,” Gan said, expanding back to its normal size. “I’m exes, you’re boos.”

As promised, Rule let Gan win the first two games, making it so easy he didn’t see how the demon could get any pleasure from it. But Gan crowed over both staged victories as if it had won the sweepstakes.

Rule sighed and put a pawprint in one of the squares.

Gan studied the nine squares as intently as if there was some chance it could lose. And yawned. Its eyes widened. “Shit! Was that a yawn?”

Rule nodded.

“Demons don’t sleep.” Gan scowled. “I am not sleepy. I’m not going to start falling unconscious every so often like some stupid…” It yawned again. “Shit, shit, shit! She’s making me sleepy! I’ve never felt this before. I don’t like it.” It looked like a sulky—and very ugly— child defying bedtime as it glared at Lily’s sleeping figure. “This is all her fault.”

Rule stood, growling.

“I’m not going to hurt her, stupid. Sit down. You still owe me eight games.”

The demon was asleep before they finished the fourth game. Once Rule was sure it was sleeping soundly, he hobbled to the back of the cave. He stared into the tunnel for a long moment. It might be a dead end. But Rule didn’t think dragons rolled boulders around for fun. The tunnel had been blocked for a reason.

Even if Gan pushed the boulder back, he told himself, he’d just have to bark. Lily would hear him and make the demon let him out. He could mark his route by scent. He wouldn’t get lost. The lack of light wouldn’t be a problem.

The tightness of the space would. And these rocks were mostly limestone. Good for forming caves, but also prone to shifting. To collapse.

He did not want to go in there.

He looked over his shoulder at Lily, sleeping for the first time in God knew how long. Gan thought the dragons meant to trade Lily to a demon lord. The big dragon hadn’t denied it. If they had a chance of escape… he had no choice, really.

But he was shaking as he eased himself down onto his belly, his bad leg pushed in front of him, and inched under a mountain of stone.