Sensual images of their brief time in the alley and their night together scrolled through his mind, heating the air around him. What he wanted to do was forget the events of the last few hours and pull her into his arms and make love.
Instead, he forced a neutral tone into his voice, congratulating himself on his restraint. “This place is too dangerous and congested. I’ll fill you in when we get somewhere safe. My apartment is a short walk from here. I think it’s time we regrouped and started sharing information.”
Morgan glanced beyond Rowan and Renegade to the congestion at Pike Place Market. “Where is your brother?”
“Last I heard, he took AJ back to his place. Why?”
“I told him it wasn’t safe there and to meet us here.”
“It wasn’t safe here either, but here you are,” Rowan said under his breath as he felt all the air rush out of his lungs. “Wait. How do you know my brother?” Reality dug in as he spun toward the Market and the destruction of the attack. Was his brother trapped inside?
Renegade put a steadying hand on Rowan’s shoulder. “He wasn’t inside. Believe me. Your brother’s not someone who goes unnoticed.”
“Except when he doesn’t want to be noticed.” Rowan reached for his cell phone and dialed Stryker’s number. He’d found out the hard way that Morgan was a seer. If she said you were going to be hit by an oncoming truck, you’d better start making funeral arrangements. “My brother’s not answering.” Rowan couldn’t breathe.
“Use the cell your brother asked me to give you,” Renegade said.
Rowan felt ice-cold as he retrieved the phone and punched in Stryker’s number again. It went straight to voice mail after the first ring, but the greeting sent chills down his spine.
“Dragons are coming.”
Rowan clicked off the phone. “I must go. Morgan…”
She laced her arm around the Troll. “Renegade will take me to your apartment. I’ll wait for you there.”
His core heated, Rowan raced toward Stryker’s house on Bainbridge Island.Dragons are comingwas their code phrase for danger.
Chapter Twenty-Four
In a blur of white-hot speed, Rowan raced past downtown Seattle’s office buildings toward the Kitsap Peninsula and the Agate Pass Bridge that connected Seattle and Bainbridge Island. Most people took a leisurely ferryboat ride, but he wasn’t like most people, and he was in a hurry. Stryker had to be okay. His brother was fearless, invincible. No one messed with him.
No one messed with him and lived, Rowan amended.
Stryker lived on Bainbridge, less than a dozen miles from downtown Seattle. Last summer he had talked Rowan into building a large pier and boat house to overcome their fear of the water. Rowan wasn’t sure the physiological exercise had worked, but the pier was big enough to moor a sixty-foot yacht. Flying on a plane or living near the water was one thing. Traveling on a boat that could sink at any moment was a dragon of a different color.
It all had to do with the theory that if Fire Wizards were submerged in water for too long, their inner core would flame out and they would die. Rowan’s guess was that this was based on a superstition that arose after a Fire Wizard had drowned. Swim lessons might be the answer, but Rowan wasn’t about to sign up to be the first guinea pig.
In a matter of minutes, Rowan reached the winding, tree-lined gravel road leading to Stryker’s home. Even the air was still. Nothing moved or breathed. It felt like the night their mother and brother had disappeared.
The door to Stryker’s house was ajar, adding to Rowan’s apprehension. His brother rented out the basement mother-in-law apartment of his house to college students, and although Stryker was willing to help the kids with cheap rent, he didn’t want them coming into his living quarters unannounced. Thus, the separate entrance, double-bolt locks, and warding charms.Right now, however, everything was wide open, unlocked, and un-charmed. If there had been students living downstairs, they were long gone.
Rowan removed his glasses as he entered. There was an odd smell in the house that made his eyes water, but it was the sight that greeted him that turned his blood to ice.
In addition to his five-star-rated bodyguard business, Stryker was a successful freelance game designer, had the latest electronic gadgets on the market, and was a compulsive neat freak. Rowan was pretty sure his brother alphabetized his cereal according to fiber content.
But instead of a room so clean you could eat off the floor, chaos reigned free.
What hadn’t been smashed was destroyed beyond recognition. It looked like a war zone. Papers were scattered as though caught in a tornado or a spin dryer, and Stryker’s black leather furniture, chrome tables and computer equipment were twisted together in a tangled mass of wire, metal, and glass.
Rowan felt as though someone had sucked all the air out of the room. “Stryker,” he yelled, his voice cracking. He forced air into his lungs. “Stryker? Where are you?”
A faint moan and the whisper of a voice invaded the silence. “Rowan.”
The image of the dead body Rowan had seen at Gas Works Park this morning flashed before him as he headed toward the front of the house. Stryker lay on the floor, his body turned toward the sliding glass doors. Guilt haunted Rowan’s steps. He’d brought his brother into this case without really knowing what they faced. Overconfidence had made him reckless with his brother’s life. He was no better than the victims in the restaurant who’d laughed in the face of death. Everything died.
He dropped to his knees beside his brother and felt for a pulse. It was weak and thready. Stryker’s eyes were intact,but there were bloody scratch marks around them. Rowan shuddered and his mind recoiled at the words repeating over and over in his mind like the screams of a banshee foretelling death:Your brother is dying.
Rowan eased Stryker to a sitting position and kept the fear from seeping into his voice. “Can you travel?”
