Fire Maidens: Portugal Read online

  If not now, then when?

  He caught himself there. Why was he so riled up about something of no concern to himself?

  “Meanwhile, there’s the issue of the Lombardis,” Cornelia said. “Where they go, trouble follows, and we’ve all heard about the attacks in London, Paris, and Rome.”

  “Don’t change the subject,” a balding old dragon cut in.

  Cornelia bristled. “I’m not. They are all connected. The Lombardis are no fools. They recognize the potential power of a Fire Maiden and seek to recruit one.”

  Marco made a face. The Lombardis hadn’t tried recruiting so much as abducting one — each of them, a young, innocent woman. It was a miracle those who’d been found thus far had survived.

  “So far, the Lombardis’ attempted coups have been thwarted,” Cornelia continued. “But if they manage to ensnare a Fire Maiden, they could use her power to seize control of an entire city.”

  A heavy silence fell over the room.

  Cornelia let her words sink in then spoke again. “We must stand strong against the likes of the Lombardis. To do so, we must find a worthy Fire Maiden for our city.”

  A few of the Guardians rapped their knuckles on the table in approval, while others uttered, “Hear, hear.”

  Marco scowled. That was all very nice, but what about concrete actions?

  Dom Afonso pinned him with a fierce gaze. “You do not seem to approve, Dom Marco.” Not that it’s any of your business, his haughty expression signaled. I’m simply humoring the son of a dear friend.

  Everyone stared, and for the first time in a long time, Marco felt like the boy he’d once been. But, hell. He had trained and fought — literally fought, and not with words or lawsuits — in an elite military corps. He’d faced impossible odds, ruthless foes, and death. Worst of all, he’d faced the prospect of potential failure that could cost innocent lives. He had nothing to fear here.

  He straightened his shoulders until he towered over the stooped Guardians. He’d been raised to respect age and experience — but not complacency.

  “I agree with the spirit of what you aim for. But placing a gem in circulation then sitting back and waiting is inadequate.”

  Cornelia looked open to suggestions, but the others appeared scandalized.

  “Inadequate?” Dom Afonso echoed in a dangerously even voice.

  “Utterly inadequate. The Fire Maiden could be in danger as we speak. What about sending out teams to protect her?”

  “We’d have to locate her first,” Afonso pointed out.

  “Exactly. So where are your grid-by-grid neighborhood searches? Research teams poring over old records to track down Liviana’s descendants?”

  Ten blank faces stared at him as he powered on.

  “The woman you seek could be a local or an outsider, like the Fire Maidens discovered in Paris, London, and Rome.”

  He was just tossing out ideas, but for some reason, a corner of his mind caught on outsider and waved it around like a red flag.

  “I would place teams of shifters with keen eyes and noses at all major transportation hubs. If the gem does attract a Fire Maiden, she could arrive by ship, plane, or train. Then there are the highways and hotels.”

  Hotel. Train station. Two more lights blinked on in his mind.

  “You need informants, too. Shifters with an ear to the ground in shady establishments who might pick up on something unusual.”

  Another little blip of recognition registered in Marco’s mind, and he pictured Tito, the raven shifter. Why now?

  My, my, Cornelia murmured into his mind. I thought the passion had gone out of you. But you seem personally invested.

  Marco wanted to bang a fist on the table and deny any such thing.

  It’s because of Laura, his dragon pointed out. We care about her, so you empathize with another woman in trouble.

  I don’t care about Laura! Marco nearly yelled.

  And yet, there he was, forming an entire plan to protect her — or women like her, at least.

  “You’ll need a pair of reliable eyes,” he added. “And a tracking device on the gem you’ve used as a lure.”

  Another little piece of the foggy puzzle in his mind fell into place with the gem, but he tried to shake it away. Right now, he had to concentrate.

  Then a roll of thunder went through his body, and his dragon whispered in awe.

  Laura.

  Marco could have rolled his eyes. Did the beast have to pester him with love talk now?

  No. I mean, Laura. She could be the one. The Fire Maiden they seek.

  Marco stood absolutely, positively still. Laura? A Fire Maiden?

  Much as he wanted to deny it, she fit the profile — right down to the spelled gem she carried. He pictured her holding it up with a shaky hand.

  It all started when I got this…

  Afonso’s booming voice yanked his focus back to the present. “What did you say? For goodness’ sake, man. Speak clearly.”

  Ten pairs of piercing eyes stared, waiting.

  Marco’s lips moved, but no sound came out. He’d intended to bring up Laura, but every instinct yelled, Don’t!

  Rome’s Guardians had gambled with a Fire Maiden’s life and nearly gotten her killed. London had been even worse, because the Guardians had sought to control every aspect of their Fire Maiden’s life.

  It was shocking, what they had planned, Sergio had told him. Not one of those Guardians stopped to ask what Gemma wanted.

  Marco’s eyes drifted surreptitiously from face to face. Could the same threat befall Lisbon’s Fire Maiden?

  But wait a minute. This was his chance to hand off Laura to someone else. What happened to not getting involved?

  How can we not get involved? his dragon huffed.

  “Come, now. Speak your mind,” Afonso ordered.

  Ten keen minds tapped at the edge of Marco’s brain. As casually as possible, Marco shoved a jumble of military memories to the front of his mind, concealing any thoughts of Laura. Usually, only shifter friends and families could read one another’s minds, but powerful shifters could too, whether they had been invited to or not.

  Cornelia tilted her head, but he didn’t relent — not even to the only Guardian he trusted.

  “I think that’s all,” he said a little lamely.

  Bernino’s bushy eyebrows jumped up. “You think that’s all? What on earth brought you here, then?”

  His mind spun. What to say? “It’s unrelated, sir. A much smaller concern.”

  “How small?” Afonso growled.

  Marco flexed his fingers quietly. “I have a report that Fausto, the vampire, and Duarte were out harassing women last night. Humans.”

  Bernino rolled his eyes. “Fausto — again.”

  “Again?” Marco growled.

  “We really must get him under control,” Afonso sighed as if he had already given up. Did he consider Fausto’s crimes too small to bother with?

  “With all due respect,” Marco cut in. “An out-of-control vampire like Fausto can become an all-out rogue if his infractions aren’t nipped in the bud.”

  Afonso peered down his long, thin nose. “Fausto is the son of an esteemed family — our longtime allies. But that alliance is a fragile one, and we cannot afford to violate it with insignificant matters.”

  Marco’s cheeks heated. “Are you calling sexual harassment insignificant?”

  Afonso glared back. “No, young man. I am calling this audience to an end. Thank you for your time and goodbye.”

  Marco’s jaw dropped. He was being dismissed? Just like that?

  He stared. What about Laura?

  The Guardians don’t want to get involved, his dragon muttered.

  A whole string of curses flitted through his mind, but then it hit him. He was guilty of the same thing.

  We can’t not help. We can’t not get involved, his dragon growled.

  Marco steeled his jaw. It was true. But he would only help Laura because it was the right thing to do —
not because he was falling for her.

  Oh no. Not at all, his dragon murmured.

  For one last, hopeful minute, he searched the faces of the Guardians, but most wore sad expressions that said, We knew you were headed in the wrong direction when you enlisted in that foreign army. Your father would roll over in his grave if he could see what has become of his only son.

  Marco’s blood boiled. He was the honorable son of an honorable man, and he would never, ever let his father down. Not even if it meant breaking his own vow and allowing a woman into his life.

  Temporarily, he reminded himself.

  “Thank you,” he forced himself to utter with a little bow. Then, after a parting nod to Cornelia, he walked to the door, taking his sweet time just to prove they didn’t shake him.

  The moment he exited, however, he slumped. Fire Maidens. Vampires. Ruthless dragon clans. Duarte.

  Laura, his dragon breathed.

  Somehow, all those elements had invaded his carefully shuttered world at the same time. Why?

  Destiny, his dragon whispered.

  He scowled. Destiny didn’t matter. He would do whatever the hell he wanted.

  The problem was, all he wanted was to get home to Laura.

  Laura. Mate. Safe… Forever, his dragon murmured.

  Chapter Seven

  Laura paced around Marco’s villa for most of the day, killing time until her meeting with Tito. Having her own clothes was comforting and listening to Amit putter around was too. But the wait was killing her. Where was Marco? Grouchy as he was, she would have liked to hear what he thought of Tito’s message. Meanwhile, what about Fausto, the vampire, and his dragon buddy, Duarte? Were they still after her?

  She stared nervously out the windows. Antique trolleys rattled silently up and down the hills of the old town with its narrow streets and winding alleys. It was a lively, colorful scene but totally muted by the thick walls of the house. Even when she climbed the stairs to the rooftop terrace — the scene of her botched landing the previous night — she stared out as mournfully as a caged bird.

  At midday, Amit brought her tea, followed by lunch at two — fish cakes that didn’t look special but tasted amazing. By late afternoon, Laura still hadn’t heard from Marco, but she’d discovered a fascinating world through the eyepiece of his telescope. Marco had it trained on a lighthouse at the far end of the river, near the sea. Did the lighthouse interest him, or was that simply a marker on a journey he longed to take?

  A journey he needs to take, a whisper ghosted through her mind.

  She frowned, looking around. On the surface, Marco didn’t lack a thing. But the gleaming house — beautiful as it was — felt like a hotel, not a home. From what she could tell, Marco lived alone and withdrawn. Why?

  Because he’s a jerk? a snarky part of her mind suggested.

  Except he wasn’t a jerk, she sensed. Something was eating at him, and she seemed to be the one setting it off.

  Her heart twinged with yearning, but she shoved away the sudden rush of emotion. Her host might be rich, gorgeous, and tantalizingly mysterious, but he was also gruff, bossy, and not the least bit polite. She didn’t need a man like that, especially not at a time like this.

  Her phone beeped with an incoming message, and she pulled it out, eager for more from Tito, the bartender who’d promised to help her contact the Guardians.

  Everything is arranged. Meet me at the Mercado de Ribeira at five.

  Laura stared at the message for a long time. On the one hand, that was great news. But what exactly did he have set up? Above all, could he be trusted?

  She dialed Tito’s number, rehearsing her questions as the phone rang. But he didn’t pick up, which put her back at square one.

  She chewed on a nail. Marco had rushed off to a meeting with someone who might be able to help her, but maybe it hadn’t worked out. Or maybe he’d gotten sidetracked by something else. After all, he was a busy man — and a total stranger. For all she knew, he could be negotiating with vampires over a fitting price for her blood.

  When a church clock struck four, she frowned, gazing out over the city she’d hoped would be her salvation.

  After ten minutes of pacing, she headed for the front door. Tito was her most concrete hope thus far. And while going out in a city of free-ranging vampires didn’t seem like a good idea, vampires couldn’t go out by day, right?

  She peered out the peephole in the front door. How safe was it out there?

  Amit had left on an errand, admonishing her to stay out of sight — but what if this was her chance to finally make progress? She tried calling Finn, who’d left his number and Marco’s. But all she got were garbled Portuguese recordings about leaving a message.

  She placed a hand on the doorknob and stood, undecided, for a full minute.

  “Oh, just get yourself together,” she finally muttered, pulling the door open. She had survived Lisbon for three days without help. She could survive one more.

  The door to Marco’s house clicked shut behind her, and her heart sank. There was no going back, only forward.

  She walked briskly down the street and hailed the first cab she found. No more trolley rides for her. Once at the Mercado, she made the driver circle the block twice as she looked for anything suspicious. But the Mercado was vibrant and inviting, so she paid the driver and made her way in.

  The building had been converted from a market hall to a food court, and every stall beckoned with delicious treats. She sniffed, hyperaware of every scent thanks to her sensitive dragon nose. Beef sizzled on grills, and brick ovens glowed with fire. Bakeries showed off racks of fresh-from-the oven pasteis de nata, the sweet custard tarts she’d already come to love.

  She sighed. Lisbon had so much going for it. Not just good food, but a laid-back pace, a stunning seaside location, and nice people. She could easily picture spending months — even years — there. If only there weren’t rogue vampires on the loose.

  So, focus already, she reminded herself.

  She circled the food court, looking for Tito. There was no hint of him, but then again, she was early. Still cautious, she located a quiet corner beside a cluster of tall, leafy plants where she could sit and sip a cool drink.

  A young tourist couple sat nearby, chatting about all they’d seen and what they had planned next. Laura watched them wistfully. From what she overheard, the happy couple had spent the previous night at a romantic restaurant. She’d spent hers escaping dragons and vampires. Their conversation wandered on to job offers and thoughts of graduate school. Her life was at a crossroads too, but an entirely different kind. Would she ever feel normal or safe again?

  Then her phone beeped with a local call, and she picked up in a hurry. “Hello?”

  Whomever it was paused, then spoke, confused. “Laura?”

  It wasn’t Marco, and there was only one person who said her name with that lilting accent. “Finn?”

  “Yes. I missed your call. Is everything all right?”

  She was barely halfway into her explanation when he exploded. “You’re where? Why? Alone?” His voice was rough, like a shovel scraping over gravel. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, girl. What were you thinking?” Before she could stammer a reply, he went on. “I’ll call back. Don’t move.”

  And just like that, he hung up. When the phone rang again a minute later, Laura jumped.

  “Hello?”

  It was Marco, not Finn, and the round, rumbly tones of his faint accent were strangely comforting. But his voice was even louder and more urgent than Finn’s.

  “You left the house? Why? When? Are you insane?”

  Her cheeks heated. “You left. All day. So, when Tito texted—”

  “Tito?” Marco cursed. “Tito is not to be trusted. Few ravens are.”

  “Which I would know — how?” she yell-hissed into the phone.

  “Everyone knows.”

  And boy, did that push her over the edge. “Stop yelling at me! And no, not everyone knows. I don’t know shit, and you
’re not helping.”

  The young tourist couple stared at her, then hurriedly turned away.

  Laura broke off, suddenly chagrined. Marco had helped her. Harbored her. Why was she yelling at him?

  She put the phone back to her ear.

  “I’m sorry I yelled,” they both said at the same time.

  Laura gulped. Her temper didn’t flare up often, but when it did — like now, after a couple of rough days — it broke out in short, fiery bursts. And with Marco changing to that soft, sorrowful tone — well, maybe he wasn’t such a jerk, after all.

  “It could be a trap,” he said. “I’m about fifteen minutes away. Where are you in the Mercado?”

  When she told him, he described a flight of hidden stairs that led to the unused gallery level. “Wait for me there. I’m coming as fast as I can.”

  The urgency in his voice frightened her, and suddenly, every face in the food court became a potential foe — even the cute tourist couple. Laura crept to the upper gallery, sticking to the shadows, studying the scene below.

  Just when her nerves started to settle again, Tito entered and looked around. Alone, so maybe Marco was wrong.

  Then two pairs of men strode in from different entrances, and Tito made eye contact with each. Only briefly, but long enough to suggest he had something sneaky planned. With shaky fingers, Laura texted an update to Marco, then retreated to a dark corner, keeping a furtive lookout.

  Tito’s men fanned out and turned in slow circles, studying every corner of the vast hall. One even looked up — right toward her, and Laura shrank back. But there was only so far she could go, and her heart thumped in alarm.

  Then the man looked away again, and she slumped. Whew.

  When Finn entered ten minutes later, she nearly called out. But Marco’s friend didn’t so much as peek toward the upper gallery. Instead, he strode over to Tito and began shouting at him.

  “You wanker! You still owe me that money.” Finn’s voice rose above the hubbub of the hall.

  Laura squinted. What was going on?

  Finn shoved Tito, who shoved back. Tito’s friends ran over to break up the burgeoning fight, but Finn went on heckling and pushing Tito.