Where things could finally calm down enough for me to focus on a certain red hatchling. The past couple days had been bad for that, with the four of us squeezed into a single hotel room, unwilling to separate for fear Talon or the Order could kick in the door at any moment. It was safer, but it did make for some...trying interactions, with a surly hacker, a restless female dragon and an ex-soldier of St. George in such close proximity to each other, all the time. All of us were exhausted and on edge, and there had been a few outbursts and snarky comebacks, but that was to be expected. We were tired. We all wanted this done. We wanted a point where we could breathe again and not feel St. George always at our backs, while looming over them, smiling at us all, was Talon. Of course, if we did succeed and break up Talon and the Order, none of us had really considered or thought about what was going to happen next.
And lately...Ember had been acting strange. I couldn’t really say how; outwardly, she seemed the same—withdrawn and tired, but still always ready to go out and do something. Even though I knew she was just as drained and on edge as the rest of us. She was changing, losing the innocence of that sheltered girl in Crescent Beach. This life forced everyone to grow up fast, hatchling and human alike, and Ember was no exception. But there was something else. Something in the way she tensed whenever I got close, in the way she rarely looked me in the eye anymore.
It didn’t matter, I told myself. I was a dragon, I could be patient. But when this was over, St. George or no, nothing would keep me from Ember’s side. That was a promise to us both. To get to the bottom of whatever had come between us, and show her, once and for all, that she belonged with me.
GARRET
The glass door to the coffee shop opened, and Tristan St. Anthony walked inside.
He saw me immediately, his gaze going directly to the far corner where I had staked out a table. That wasn’t surprising. This location was tucked against the wall with no windows, out of sight of any snipers who might try to take a bead on me from across the street. It afforded a clear view of the entire coffee shop and more than one way to get out. It was where he would choose to sit.
I waited calmly, both hands on the table in plain sight, my fingers curled lightly around a paper cup. Tristan didn’t immediately stride to my table, taking a moment to scan the coffee shop for enemies. He then turned and walked to the front counter, smiling at the girl behind the bar as he placed his order. I scanned him for indications of weapons beneath his clothes, a telltale bump or sharp line at the small of his back. It was strange, seeing him like this. The enemy. A threat. I saw him watching me from the corner of his eye, probably doing the same thing, and wondered if this odd sense of guilt and resignation was plaguing him, too.
Finally, he turned, coffee in hand, and sauntered over to my table, sliding into the chair like this was a perfectly normal meeting. For half a heartbeat, we faced each other down, a storm of memories, words and emotion hovering silently between us.
“Hey, partner.” Tristan was the first to break the silence, and his voice was heavy with sarcasm. “Good to see you again, when you’re not hitting me in the back of the skull. I hope you’re enjoying that shiny rifle you stole. Where are your friends?”
“Around,” I replied. No use in lying to him; he knew I would be stupid not to post surveillance where I could. “And the Order?”
“Won’t be joining us.” Leaning back, he crossed his long legs and stared at me over the table. “Though I did spend the last day and a half debating whether or not to turn you in. But you knew that.” His dark eyes narrowed. “You knew the risks when you contacted me, using our old emergency code, I noticed. Which is why I’m here, giving you the last benefit of the doubt and not watching the front door through the crosshairs of my scope.” He took a sip of coffee and said, in a perfectly conversational voice, “I assume this is fucking important, Garret. I could be court-martialed if they realize where I’ve gone.”
“I know.” This meeting was chancy on many levels. Tristan had taken a massive risk just by coming here. The Order would see talking to me as an act of betrayal and would punish him severely if we were discovered. “This is important,” I confirmed. “But...you’re not going to like it.” His brow furrowed, and I hurried on before he could change his mind and leave. “I need you to hear me out, Tristan. Before you make any conclusions, listen to what I’m going to tell you. That’s all I’m asking.”
“If this is about your scaly friends, let me save you the breath right now—”
“It’s not about the dragons,” I said. “It’s about the Patriarch.”
That prompted a wary frown, and he tensed, probably remembering our “conversation” at the facility. Where I had told him that the Patriarch was working for Talon, right before I knocked him out. “This better not be what I think it is, Garret.”
“The Order has been on a lot of strikes recently, haven’t they?” I asked instead, and the frown deepened, bordering on impatience. “Far more than normal. Three or four successful raids a year was considered average for us. Now the number of strikes has more than doubled, but nothing has changed within the Order.”
“Yeah?” Tristan’s expression was cautious. “And? What does this have to do with the Patriarch?”