The stranger had one of those small speaker microphones clipped around his ear, the talk switch clipped to the lapel of his jacket. Had he reported my presence? Surely not. The stillness of the night would carry sound too well, and I would have heard him speaking. Although I hadn’t heard him creeping up on me until it was almost too late.
But then, some draman could move with the stealth of dragons.
I ripped off the mike to insure he couldn’t use it, then searched through his pockets until I found a wallet. His name was Ralph Jenkins and, according to his license, he lived in Las Vegas. Given the extent of this operation, that might or might not be true. Further inspection revealed several credit cards—all in different names—and a large amount of cash. Payment for destroying a town, perhaps?
I shoved everything back into his pocket then rose and took off his jacket, tearing it into long strips with which I tied his hands and feet. To make doubly sure he couldn’t escape, I took off his shoes and socks, then grabbed his shoelaces and tied the ends to form a long string. I roped his thumbs together then ran the laces around his neck. It might not be as deadly as Damon’s garrotes, but it wouldn’t be comfortable, either.
With the stranger trussed as securely as possible, I touched his face and reached for his flame, sucking in the heat of him. It swirled through my body—a delicious burn of energy that replaced the reserves drained by the long night of driving. But unlike Damon, I left embers behind. I didn’t have the skill—or the desire—to completely annihilate what nature had given him.
The stranger began to stir, his feet twitching against the ropes. I grabbed him under the armpits and, with a grunt of effort, dragged him into the shade. It wouldn’t stop him from energizing himself once dawn arrived, but hopefully I’d have my answers and be out of reach by then.
But first, I had to find out who waited below.
I stood back and toed his thigh. He jerked in reaction, then his eyes snapped open and his face contorted in an odd mix of anger and pain. His gaze briefly roamed the trees then fixed on me.
“Scream and I’ll fry you.” My voice was flat and my fingers glowed in warning.
“Who the fuck are you?” he spat, his voice a growl of low fury.
“A question I was going to ask you,” I replied, “because I don’t for one minute trust the name on your license.”
“Well, that’s too bad, ain’t it, because that happens to be my real name.”
I doubted it, but it wasn’t a point worth arguing. “Why are you here in Red Rock?”
“Visiting kin.” He paused, and his features twisted again. This time, it was pure fury. “What the hell have you done to my flames?”
“Doused them. And unless you answer my questions, I’ll make damn sure you never flame again.”
His gaze met mine, his expression disbelieving and yet a touch fearful. “Draman haven’t got the skills to do that. Only dragons have.”
“And many dragons still believe that draman can’t fly or flame.” I shrugged and reached forward, as if to touch his skin. He jerked away from me and I let my hand drop. “Answer my questions and I’ll leave you restrained but alive. Or would you rather risk your flames—and your life—in the belief I might be lying?”
He swore under his breath, then said, “They don’t pay me enough for this sort of shit.”
“Who doesn’t?”
“Some fellow named Franco. That’s all I know, I swear.”
“You contacted him through the Deca Dent nightclub?”
Ralph grunted, which I took for a yes. “I never went there,” he added. “It was all done by phone.”
“Is this the first town you’ve been sent to destroy?”
He frowned. “I ain’t here to destroy no town.”
“Then what are you here for?”
“I’m here with the darting team.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Darting team?”
“Yeah. They wanted to capture some muerte that was causing them trouble.” He paused and gave me the evil eye. “As well as his bitch draman. Someone obviously forgot to warn us the bitch could fight.”
And suddenly Leon’s bravado made sense. He might have paid a hefty price, but he’d been setting us up all along. Red Rock was a trap, not a town slated for destruction. Which made me wonder if Leith’s people were okay. I had to hope so, because I couldn’t phone to find out—I didn’t have the time and there didn’t seem to be any reception in this valley.
“And what happened to the muerte?”
“No frigging sign of him.”
Relief rolled through me. At least he wasn’t captured. Or dead. But it did beg the question—why was he hiding? “How many of you are there?”
“Six.” He shrugged, the movement awkward. “I think it’s overkill. It’s only one dragon, after all.”
Obviously, no one had ever explained to this man just what a muerte was capable of. But then, I shouldn’t have been surprised—he was draman, after all. And I hadn’t known about the muerte, either, until recently.
“How long have you been here?”
“We got here before eleven. Just as well I can flame, I tell you, because it gets damn cold here at night.”
“So what did you do with all the people living here?”
“Oh, they were eliminated weeks ago. This was one of the first places we did.”
“What did you do with the bodies?”
“Buried them, of course. We didn’t want their kin knowing they were dead—not that most of them had kin who would even care.” He stopped and gave a nasty grin. “Do you have kin who will care when you die, little draman?”
I didn’t answer, but the sick feeling in my gut was growing. My gaze darted along the tree line. I couldn’t see or feel anyone approaching, but that didn’t mean they weren’t out there, getting a line on me with a rifle at this very moment.
I licked my lips, torn between the urge to run and the need to stay and help out. Running wouldn’t stop these murderers, and it certainly wouldn’t save Rainey’s soul.
And I had less than two days left.
I closed my eyes against the brief surge of panic, then said, “Why did Franco have it marked as un-cleansed on his wall map?”
“How else was he going to set the trap?” He shifted again. “Listen, lady, I’m being helpful here. You could at least make me more comfortable. Undo some ropes or something.”
“Sorry, but I’m not that stupid.”
He swore at me—long, loud, and inventively. I couldn’t help smiling. “An interesting combination of words, but it isn’t going to help. When did Franco contact you?”
“He didn’t actually contact me. He contacted Tomi.”
I rolled my eyes. No wonder no one knew who the head guy was—he was using too many intermediaries. “And Tomi is?”
“The guy who hires the rest of us.”
“So what time did this Tomi contact you?”
“About six thirty. It took us a while to collect everything we needed.”
Then it must have been Seth who’d contacted Tomi, not Leon, because by six thirty, Leon was well on his way to being dumped somewhere deep in the Pacific.
My gaze darted around, and again I saw nothing but darkness. But my unease was growing.
“So you’ve had no personal dealings with Franco—or anybody else?”
He shrugged. This time, the movement jerked the shoelaces against his neck, leaving a red mark. He glared at me balefully. “I heard some guy speaking on the phone a couple of times, when I was with Tomi.”
“Was it Franco?”
“No. Franco’s accent falls in and out. This guy’s didn’t.”
I had no idea what Hannish sounded like, but if he and Seth had known each other for a long time, it was possible that Seth was imitating Hannish’s accent. He’d always aspired to be more than he was.
“Ralph, what the hell are you doing out there?”
The voice was soft but clear. I jerked around, my heart racing and flames leaping across my fingertips before I realized the words were coming from the speaker at his ear. I glanced at my captive. “Who’s that?”