tightly that he could make no other move. I saw fury in the eye, plus relief, worry, and the impatience to be out of there.
As he blinked at me, his compulsion spell died away. The release sent me to my knees as did every other hurt the spell had staved off so I could get here.
Nash pressed himself into the cave and switched off his flashlight. “You all right, Janet?”
I lay still to catch my breath. “I will be.”
Nash studied the motionless Mick. “He’s a dragon. Why doesn’t he just fly out? I doubt the fire would burn a hide that thick.”
I couldn’t read Mick’s thoughts, but I sensed his vast irritation. He lifted his head what little he could in the tight space and shot a sudden stream of fire toward us.
I ducked instinctively, and so did Nash. The white-hot fire struck the flames, and the wall of them bulged, swelling, growing hotter. My skin burned, my hair singed, and Nash threw up his arm to ward off the brightness. Any second now, the flame would burst out; any second now, we’d be incinerated . . .
And then, we weren’t. As we watched, the fire sucked Mick’s dragon flame straight into it, absorbed it, inhaled it. The whole thing flared red-hot for a few seconds, then settled back down to a steady roar.
I blew out my breath. “It’s magical fire,” I said. “It feeds on magic, the same way Mick can siphon off my storm power. Any magic thrown at it will just make it stronger.”
The dragon lowered his head with a little whump of breath, happy we’d figured out the obvious.
I nudged a rock that was about a foot in diameter, checking for scorpions or spiders before I hauled it into my hands. I bent, swung the rock back between my legs, and heaved it into the flames.
The fire disintegrated the rock in the blink of an eye. Nothing reached Mick’s side but a trickle of dust and ash.
“Even Mick’s hide wouldn’t survive that,” I said.
Nash studied the flame wall as though he was trying to figure out a way to arrest it. “So, did you bring a magic fire extinguisher?”
So the man had a sense of humor. “Sort of,” I said in a quiet voice. “I brought you.”
He turned. “And I can do what?”
“You draw off magic, like you did to the Nightwalker. Maybe you can draw off that.”
Nash’s brows shot up over cold gray eyes. “You want me to touch fire that burns rock to ash to see what happens? Forget it. I like my hand, not to mention the rest of my body. We’ll find another way.”
“There is no other way. I don’t have magic without a storm, and even if I did, the fire would probably just absorb that too.”
As Nash turned back to the fire, another vision hit me with the force of a hurricane. In it I was standing in this cave, my arms raised above my head, the same kind of white light I’d seen in the last vision pouring from my hands. This wasn’t my storm magic—it was different, more intense, like the difference between a cheerful fire on a hearth and a stream of molten lava.
In the vision, the wall of flame bowed before me in terror. The cave shook with my power and then collapsed. The rubble buried Nash and Mick, but boulders glanced off me as I rose like the sun out of the mountain.
I heard myself screaming and then I was on my hands and knees on the bone-hard floor, Nash bending over me.
“Janet? What the hell?”
I sat down hard, my spinning head making me sick. “It’s nothing. Nothing. It’s just my headache.”
I was such a liar. Mick’s eye focused on me, the dark slit of his pupil glowing orange red. I felt his sharp interest, his worry, and not just for my physical well-being. Despite everything Mick and I had been through, despite what we had together, I knew that Mick still watched me with wariness. He loved me, protected me, shared a bed with me, yes. Had complete faith that I wasn’t a danger to every living being on the planet, no.
Nash’s face glistened with sweat as he contemplated the flames again. Then he quickly lowered his
As he blinked at me, his compulsion spell died away. The release sent me to my knees as did every other hurt the spell had staved off so I could get here.
Nash pressed himself into the cave and switched off his flashlight. “You all right, Janet?”
I lay still to catch my breath. “I will be.”
Nash studied the motionless Mick. “He’s a dragon. Why doesn’t he just fly out? I doubt the fire would burn a hide that thick.”
I couldn’t read Mick’s thoughts, but I sensed his vast irritation. He lifted his head what little he could in the tight space and shot a sudden stream of fire toward us.
I ducked instinctively, and so did Nash. The white-hot fire struck the flames, and the wall of them bulged, swelling, growing hotter. My skin burned, my hair singed, and Nash threw up his arm to ward off the brightness. Any second now, the flame would burst out; any second now, we’d be incinerated . . .
And then, we weren’t. As we watched, the fire sucked Mick’s dragon flame straight into it, absorbed it, inhaled it. The whole thing flared red-hot for a few seconds, then settled back down to a steady roar.
I blew out my breath. “It’s magical fire,” I said. “It feeds on magic, the same way Mick can siphon off my storm power. Any magic thrown at it will just make it stronger.”
The dragon lowered his head with a little whump of breath, happy we’d figured out the obvious.
I nudged a rock that was about a foot in diameter, checking for scorpions or spiders before I hauled it into my hands. I bent, swung the rock back between my legs, and heaved it into the flames.
The fire disintegrated the rock in the blink of an eye. Nothing reached Mick’s side but a trickle of dust and ash.
“Even Mick’s hide wouldn’t survive that,” I said.
Nash studied the flame wall as though he was trying to figure out a way to arrest it. “So, did you bring a magic fire extinguisher?”
So the man had a sense of humor. “Sort of,” I said in a quiet voice. “I brought you.”
He turned. “And I can do what?”
“You draw off magic, like you did to the Nightwalker. Maybe you can draw off that.”
Nash’s brows shot up over cold gray eyes. “You want me to touch fire that burns rock to ash to see what happens? Forget it. I like my hand, not to mention the rest of my body. We’ll find another way.”
“There is no other way. I don’t have magic without a storm, and even if I did, the fire would probably just absorb that too.”
As Nash turned back to the fire, another vision hit me with the force of a hurricane. In it I was standing in this cave, my arms raised above my head, the same kind of white light I’d seen in the last vision pouring from my hands. This wasn’t my storm magic—it was different, more intense, like the difference between a cheerful fire on a hearth and a stream of molten lava.
In the vision, the wall of flame bowed before me in terror. The cave shook with my power and then collapsed. The rubble buried Nash and Mick, but boulders glanced off me as I rose like the sun out of the mountain.
I heard myself screaming and then I was on my hands and knees on the bone-hard floor, Nash bending over me.
“Janet? What the hell?”
I sat down hard, my spinning head making me sick. “It’s nothing. Nothing. It’s just my headache.”
I was such a liar. Mick’s eye focused on me, the dark slit of his pupil glowing orange red. I felt his sharp interest, his worry, and not just for my physical well-being. Despite everything Mick and I had been through, despite what we had together, I knew that Mick still watched me with wariness. He loved me, protected me, shared a bed with me, yes. Had complete faith that I wasn’t a danger to every living being on the planet, no.
Nash’s face glistened with sweat as he contemplated the flames again. Then he quickly lowered his
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