Planet Dragos Read online

  Thoughts like spears of lightning blasted through Dragos’s mind. Nearly every hotel of size had Vampyre-friendly rooms. While some were located in the basement, others had safety shutters that closed at daybreak.

  Aside from that, they were normal hotel rooms like any other… It was up to individual Vampyres and their attendants to take added security measures if they wished. Carling had almost certainly warded her surroundings. Maybe she had taken other precautions.

  He said, Was her room broken into?

  No! Not that I can tell. There are other scents here, but they could be hotel staff. Rune sounded savage and impatient, as if words had become so intolerable he needed to leap ahead to another state of being. Dragos could relate. I didn’t get here until almost noon. She might have been missing for hours, and I never knew. She’d wanted to travel ahead to take care of wedding arrangements.

  Pia had been kidnapped, and Carling was missing…

  Dragos growled, This is no coincidence. Have you heard from anybody yet?

  No. No text, no phone call or note—not a fucking thing. Claudia and Luis came with her. They said when they left her, she was safely in her suite. I’m trying to track her now. Duncan’s interviewing Bellagio security.

  Tracking someone in a resort of the Bellagio’s fame and size would be a nightmare. The casino floors were massive, and they had thousands of rooms. While not all the rooms would be occupied at once, not all the visitors would be staying overnight in the hotel either. There were literally thousands of random scents, crisscrossing and overlaid on each other.

  Dragos ground his teeth. Keep me posted.

  As they finished speaking, Dragos could see the Riverview Casino’s signature rooftop garden and helipad ahead. A fire engine, ambulance, and several police cars were parked at the front entrance where a sizable crowd had gathered.

  Ah. That looked like a sizable bread crumb. The casino had seen some trouble.

  People screamed and scattered as he plummeted toward them. He had forgotten to cloak his presence. Shapeshifting, he raced over to the nearest police officer, a woman, who turned white and backed up several steps before making herself stop.

  “My wife has been kidnapped,” he growled. “What happened here?”

  Swallowing hard, the policewoman said, “I’m very s-sorry to hear that, my lord. We heard your r—We heard you. We have an unconscious woman who sustained a blow to the head and several eyewitness accounts of a group of people walking away from her. Preliminary statements are inconsistent and confused. We’re about to review the casino security tapes to see what happened….”

  He stopped listening. Running over to the ambulance, he looked in the back. Eva’s unconscious figure was strapped to a gurney. With her was a paramedic, who said, “You can’t be here, sir—”

  Blood had leaked out of Eva’s nostrils and the corner of one eye. Somebody had hit her hard. Baring his teeth, he growled at the paramedic. “Don’t tell me where I can and cannot be. She’s one of my mine. Will she live?”

  The paramedic had cringed back, but he answered quickly. “She has a serious skull fracture. We need to get her to the hospital. Prompt treatment will vastly increase her chances of survival.”

  “Go.” He left the ambulance and raced into the casino. There were too many people milling about, too many… along with a thin, subtle thread of Pia’s scent. It held him transfixed. Following her scent would be a chancy business in this crowd of gawkers. The Riverview wasn’t quite as large as the Bellagio, but it was large enough.

  He might get better information more quickly if he tracked down the Midnight Lounge.

  He pushed through the crowd, looking for the lounge. The number of people milling about heightened the sense of savagery burning through his body. He needed them to back off or, better yet, leave. With each step he had to consciously control the feral instinct to burn them all where they stood.

  A couple of uniformed security people approached at a rapid pace. They were Light Fae, and they wore the Riverview’s signature colors.

  “My lord,” said one male. “We’ve heard you caused significant damage to the Bellagio. We don’t want any trouble—I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

  Dragos rounded on him. Both security turned white. “You don’t want any trouble,” he repeated very quietly. “You’ve already got trouble. My wife was here. One of my people—her bodyguard—was attacked here. She’s on her way to the hospital, and my wife has been kidnapped. Presumably, I believe, from here.”

  The security guard went even whiter. He swallowed. “I’m so sorry—we didn’t realize you were involved in this. We’re still piecing together what happened.”

  Dragos said between his teeth, “Piece it together faster. Blonde woman. You might have seen her in the news. She and her bodyguard came through here.”

  The other guard said, “The security footage shows a blonde woman with a group walking away from the victim. That could be Lady Cuelebre. They got on an elevator over there.” He pointed. “We’re still scouring the whole building, but we believe they’ve left.”

  Dragos considered the bank of elevators. “Where do those lead?”

  “Well… everywhere,” the second guard said. “They go all the way up to the roof and down several levels to the parking garage below.”

  The roof. Sunshine. Pavement.

  And the Riverview had a helipad.

  They might have left by car. But if they took her airborne, they could be fifty miles away by now, or more. And the distance would be growing every minute.

  The distance itself was an issue he could overcome, but he couldn’t if he didn’t know which direction they had flown in, and the skies around Las Vegas were full of helicopters and small pleasure aircraft.

  “Get me the list of everyone who requested permission to use your helipad today,” he said abruptly. “I want you to email it to my cell phone as fast as you can. Got it?”

  “Yes, sir,” the older guard said. He took down the number. “I’ll see to this immediately. Is there anything else?”

  “Yes. Who is playing at the Midnight Lounge?”

  If the seemingly random question surprised the other male, he didn’t show it. He said, “One of the magicians that makes the Vegas circuit from the time to time—Rael Malweth. But I think his show ended today.”

  It ended? Today?

  He realized he was breathing rapidly and opening and closing his hands to keep from grabbing the guard by the throat. Both men watched him warily, poised as if to run. Not that running would do them any good if Dragos chose to lunge for them.

  He forced himself to say, “Thank you.”

  Both guards reacted as if he had released them from prison, retreating rapidly. The one promised, “I’ll fax you that list right away, my lord!”

  “Be sure you do,” he said. “Don’t make me come find you.”

  As he turned away, he noticed how many people were watching them. They shrank away as his gaze passed over them.

  In the back of his mind, he knew his actions were going to have consequences from the damage to the Bellagio and the rest of the city, and the fear he was engendering in everyone who saw him.

  The cost alone of closing down all the casinos on the strip would probably run over twenty million dollars a day, maybe more. The general public loved Pia, which might mitigate some things a bit, but not much.

  When he’d found out Pia was missing, he should have gone into stealth mode and attacked the issue quietly. He was doing damage everywhere he went, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care. He would happily burn the whole city to the ground, if only it would bring her back unharmed.

  But damage to the city, and to human and Elder Races relations, might also be what the kidnappers had intended. He remembered the last time he had lost control of his rage and roared in New York, when he had discovered his hoard had been broken into. There had been quite a bit of PR work needed to clean up that mess.

  Snapping his fingers at the
onlookers, he said, “Somebody film me.”

  Instantly several people pointed their cell phones at him. Turning in a slow circle, he said, “I damaged this city, which I regret, and I will make full restitution to Las Vegas for it. My wife, Pia Cuelebre, has been kidnapped. I’m offering five-million-dollar rewards for any substantial, verifiable information that will lead to her recovery. That’s not just one reward—that’s as many five-million-dollar rewards as it takes to get my wife back alive. The Wyr demesne in New York has a crime hotline number.” He rattled off the digits. “If you have any information about Pia’s whereabouts, call that number now. Help me get my wife and our unborn child back safely.”

  After that, he made a slicing motion with one hand. As those who had been filming him lowered their phones, he counted them. There were twelve in total, and while they still watched him with wariness and fear, now there was a good deal more understanding, even sympathy, in their expressions.

  “Upload your clips to social media,” he told them. “Call newspapers and TV stations and offer it to them. I will pay you for every outlet you get that out on—and the bigger the outlet is, the more money you’ll get. Fifty thousand for national coverage. Twenty-five thousand for local. I’ll pay each of you a thousand if you upload it to your Facebook and Twitter accounts and make this turn viral. Go!”

  Everyone scattered, all except one young woman who walked up to him. She said quietly, “I’ll do it for free. I hope you find her.”

  She was human. She was nobody. But as he looked into her compassionate gaze, the fiery rage in his chest died down until, for a moment, all he felt was raw pain.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  She nodded.

  With the next pulse beat, he was on fire again and moving. It would be a simple matter to go up to the rooftop and see if he could catch Pia’s scent and quicker to fly up rather than take the elevator. Once outside, he cloaked himself, shapeshifted, and launched.

  As he soared upward, Aryal said, Khalil transported the rest of the wedding party here. We’ve got thirteen people, two of whom are doctors. Four are aerial fighters and sentinels—or at least, you know, Rune used to be one—and Khalil said he will take anybody anywhere they need to go. And the gaming commission is working with the casinos for a citywide shutdown. Should be happening any minute now. Grace is trying her Oracle woo-woo stuff to see if she can see anything that way. What have you got?

  While she talked, Dragos landed on the helipad. As soon as he did, he caught Pia’s scent along with several others. Shapeshifting back into his human form, he knelt to get closer to the scents.

  A few of them seemed tantalizingly familiar. Inhaling deeply, he tried to pin them down, but the memories went back—far back. Try as he might to chase them down, they eluded him for now.

  They went airborne, he said. I’m on the Riverview helipad and Pia’s scent is up here. And if they have enough magic to take Carling, they have enough to cloak their presence. We’ve lost them.

  Aw, shit. Her reply was subdued. Dragos, I’m so sorry.

  Shut up, he told her savagely. We’re going to find them.

  She flared in immediate response. Of course we will! And when we do, gods help them.

  Standing, he spun in a slow circle, looking out in all directions at the endless blue sky.

  I know you’re there, he said, and this time he wasn’t trying to talk to Pia or Aryal. For the first time in many centuries, he reached out, of his own volition, to someone else. The guard said your show here at the Riverview has closed, but you haven’t left. I can sense it.

  There was silence for so long Dragos thought he wasn’t going to get a reply.

  But then Azrael said, You’re right. I haven’t left. Not yet, but soon.

  Dragos closed his hands into fists. Where is she?

  Azrael appeared beside him. “I don’t know yet,” he told Dragos. “That means she is not close to dying. That is something.”

  Whirling, Dragos grabbed Azrael by the throat, teeth bared. “She came to see you.”

  Calm, ageless green eyes met his. “Yes.”

  “And you knew this was coming? You could have said something to stop it?” His talons dug into the other male’s throat. All he would have to do to kill Azrael was clench his fist and tear out his throat. Azrael might be Death, but he was also a man.

  But like all the other Primal Powers, Death couldn’t be killed or stopped, only its current manifestation could. If Azrael died, another creature would either be born or rise up to take his place.

  Azrael didn’t struggle against his hold. “You know it doesn’t work like that. The universe is predicated on free will and probability. Would she turn right or left? Would she fight her captors or capitulate? Maybe her captors would have a change in plans and lie in wait for her somewhere else. Maybe they would change their minds and go home, or maybe they would choose to attack you directly. And what is everybody else going to do? All those life choices are outside my realm, which is death, and we have not yet begun that dance, but somehow we will. That much I know. Somehow, my brother, we will.”

  “Don’t call me that.” Dragos threw him backward.

  With inhuman grace, Azrael spun and righted himself. When he spoke next, a scythe had entered his voice. “And why not? That’s what we were—what we are. You killed, and I took what you reaped. Then you turned from killing to living, but I didn’t hold it against you. Like death, living is a necessary part of the Great Wheel. One cannot exist without the other. But what I don’t understand is why do you deny that I am still a part of you?”

  “I don’t deny it!” he roared, spinning away while emotions so violent they felt cataclysmic crashed and tore at him. Then, more calmly, he said, “I don’t deny it. But I am not the same beast I once was. Like you said, I have reached for life. I will not go back to that feral time.”

  “Not unless she dies,” Azrael said gently. “And I can’t save you from that particular pain if it were to happen, although if I could, I would.”

  Rubbing his face hard, Dragos fought to get himself under control. When he could speak again, he asked, “What do you know about Carling?”

  When nothing but silence greeted him, he spun around again.

  Azrael was gone. Dragos stood on the rooftop, alone.

  Chapter Five

  Pia woke in stages. Her first thought was Last Dance, ha. Death’s Vegas show was a little heavy-handed on the metaphor. Or was it a simile? She could never keep those two straight.

  Her hip and neck hurt, and the baby was kicking at her full bladder. Why was the bed so hard, and who had put rocks in it?

  Awareness came crashing in. Bolting into a sitting position, she looked around wildly. The last thing she remembered was sitting in a helicopter with her kidnappers. Most of them were just goons taking orders.

  The one she was really afraid of was the Elven woman with the scarred face. Not since coming face-to-face with Urien had Pia looked in a person’s gaze and realized they were capable of doing anything, anything at all.

  Then, a sudden blackness. They must have hit her with some kind of spell.

  And now this.

  She was in a shallow cave that had been converted into a cell. Instead of being underground, it appeared to be some distance aboveground, possibly twenty or thirty feet up a cliff face. She could look out over a desertlike clearing that was surrounded by a dense, strange-looking forest. A multitude of colored dome tents and campers lined the edges of the clearing and disappeared past her line of sight.

  The opening of the cave was barred with some sturdy metal beams that definitely meant business, and they were secured into place by what appeared to be newly poured concrete at the base. Outside, there was a narrow ledge about four feet wide.

  There was no door set in the bars. There wasn’t any way out that she could see.

  Her stomach clenched. She wasn’t meant to leave this place.

  The only items in the cave were a bucket in the corner and a
pile of cloth and leathery bones in another. The pressure against her bladder had become urgent, so she quickly used the bucket while her mind raced, cataloguing more details.

  Sunshine poured in, warming half the ground inside the cave and leaving the rest in shadow. At the moment, the breeze that blew through the cave was hot and dry, but it would get cold at night.

  She was wearing a sleeveless tunic that flared to comfortably accommodate her pregnant belly, ankle-length trousers, and flat sandals. The outfit was stylish enough for a casual sightseeing jaunt, but it wouldn’t offer any warmth or protection when night fell.

  Outside, the clearing was full of activity. Dozens of workers were constructing a large wooden structure that looked like a dragon. At the base, they stacked high piles of more wood.

  The scene reminded her of articles she had read about the annual Burning Man festival held in the Nevada desert. The Burning Man festival was, by all accounts, a place for wild freedom of creative and personal expression. Although it had become better organized in recent years and had a security presence for the duration, it still held a touch of anarchy, and unpredictable things happened.

  Were they building a giant effigy to burn? Of Dragos?

  She pressed against the bars as she tried to see as much as she could, clenching her hands around two pieces of the round metal. In direct sunlight, they were too hot to hold for long, and the desert sun was too fierce for her pale skin, especially without any sunblock for protection.

  Rubbing her belly anxiously, she backed away to the nearest strip of shadow at the back of the cave. Her heart hammered, and her skin felt clammy, and her mouth dry. She had no idea how long she had been unconscious, but as hungry and shaky as she felt, it could have been a full day.

  That meant she needed to take a dose of the protocol, but there wasn’t any to be had. She had a couple of emergency doses in her purse, but the Elven woman had taken that along with her cell phone.

  As she came back alongside the pile of bones and rags, it moved.