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“We have a problem,” he said without preamble. “And frankly, you have the same problem, St. George. We’re in a war, but we are completely outnumbered and outgunned. We can’t do anything against Talon, because we don’t have enough bodies to take up the fight.”
“I am well aware, dragon,” Martin said. His voice was calm, not angry or indignant, even when speaking to his ancient enemy. I suddenly realized why Garret respected this man so much. “But the Order of St. George is stretched rather thin at the moment. Am I to assume that you know where we can find more allies?”
The rogue leader nodded. “That’s pretty much the gist of it.”
The lieutenant regarded him solemnly. “And am I also to assume that these...allies...are dragons?” he asked.
Riley sighed again. “Yeah,” he muttered reluctantly. “They’re dragons. Talon has an island, in the North Atlantic Ocean. It’s...where they keep their breeder females. How many are there is anyone’s guess, but they’re the dragons they’ve chosen to produce fertile eggs for the organization, so at least a few.”
Behind Martin, Tristan straightened, eyes widening. “Then it’s true?” he asked in a breathless voice. “There really is a place where Talon keeps all its females.”
Riley glared at him. “Yeah, St. George. There is, and it’s a pretty shitty setup. Dragonells who fail in some way, or who defy the organization, get sent to the facility, to become broodmares for the rest of their lives. They never leave, never get off the island, never have the chance for a normal life. They’re basically prisoners whose only purpose is to pop out eggs for Talon. That sound like a cushy life to you?”
“Dunno.” Tristan smirked. “Private island, all meals provided, nothing to do but sleep, eat and breed? Sounds like heaven to me.”
“St. Anthony,” Martin warned before Riley could explode. “If you cannot behave yourself, you can leave.” Tristan held up both hands, falling silent, and Martin turned back to Riley. “So, these breeders,” he went on. “From your description, I would assume that they are unhappy with Talon’s treatment of them, and would fight the organization if they could?”
“We hope so,” I said as Riley still looked like he might snap Tristan’s head off. “If we can get to the dragonells and free them, we think a few at least will take up the fight with Talon. But we don’t have the numbers to stage a rescue. We can’t get to the island on our own.”
“And that is where you need us,” Martin finished.
“Yes, sir.” Garret nodded. “We hope that the Order would be willing to ally with us, on a more permanent basis. If we combine our people and resources, we’ll have a better chance against Talon.”
Martin didn’t say anything, standing there with his arms crossed and his brow furrowed in thought. “Allying with the rogues would be tactically sound,” he finally agreed, frowning. “However, there are those who would think the Order is being used, that you came to us solely for our help in rescuing these breeder dragons, and when that is done, you will either leave or turn on us.”
“You know that’s not true, sir,” Garret said.
“I know,” Martin agreed. “But I’m not the one you’ll need to convince. I might lead this chapterhouse, but the soldiers are the ones who will be going into battle with you. And if others from St. George show up, what then? How will you convince them that you are not enemies, that you mean the Order no harm?”
“How about not burning this place to the damn ground?” Riley growled. “Or not tearing some idiot’s face off when they keep threatening us? That feels like a pretty good indicator to me.”
Martin’s voice was flat. “It’s not.”
“What do you suggest, Lieutenant?” I asked.
He glanced at me. “If you could do a small task for the Order,” he replied, “work with a few of the soldiers, that would be a sign of goodwill. At the very least, it would be a start.”
“A small task,” Riley repeated. “Of course. And let me guess, you have just the thing in mind, don’t you?”
Martin turned and stepped back around his desk, where several sheets of paper lay across the surface. “The Order took a massive blow when the clones attacked,” he said, picking up one of the documents. “We’ve been scrambling for supplies, resources, anything that will help defend us when we’re attacked again. Recently, I received word about an item that could specifically help our cause. A weapon capable of firing shots with such velocity that it can punch through damn near anything. A high-powered rifle meant to pierce through tanks, armored cars, bunkers...and possibly the chest plates of a full-grown Adult dragon.”
My eyes widened, and Riley gave an incredulous snort.
“Oh, a dragon-killing gun,” he said, his voice thick with sarcasm. “That’s definitely something the Order needs. We’ll get right on that.”
“If we are to fight Talon, we need all the resources we can get,” Martin said firmly. “You said so yourself—we are vastly outnumbered and outgunned. We all saw the Adult clone the night the base was attacked. What if Talon has more of them? This might give us an edge against such enemies.”
“Sadly, it doesn’t exist quite yet.” This came from Tristan, indicating the two of them had been discussing the weapon before we came in. I wasn’t surprised. Tristan was the Order’s best sniper; he would certainly be interested in a rifle capable of punching through the armor of a dragon. “It’s a prototype, being designed by the military. But they’re transporting it to another base tomorrow night. And since it’s top secret and they don’t want anyone catching wind of the prototype and possibly stealing it, they’re doing it by train.”
“By train?” Riley repeated. “Why?”
“Possibly to keep it hidden. Military escorts draw attention.” Tristan shrugged. “And a train is harder to hijack, especially if there are armed guards in every car. Which there probably will be.”
“So, let me get this straight.” The rogue leader crossed his arms. “You want us to track down a train guarded by the US military, steal a prototype weapon specifically designed to kill dragons and hand it over to the Order of St. George?”
“Basically?” Tristan looked at Garret, who said nothing. “Yeah.”
“If you do this,” Martin added, “you will be sending a message to the rest of the Order that you are willing to help us, to stand with us. And we will be more inclined to help you, in return.”
“Or we get ourselves killed, and you don’t have to worry about it,” Riley muttered. “No skin off your nose. I don’t see you volunteering any of your men to help.”
“That is not true,” Martin replied calmly. “St. Anthony will be going with you.”
“I... Sir?” Tristan glanced at the lieutenant in surprise.
Martin’s lip curled in a faint smile. “You wanted to see the prototype, St. Anthony. Now’s your chance.” Tristan looked like he wanted to argue, but he was too well disciplined to talk back to his superior officer. Martin narrowed his eyes. “The dragons cannot be the only ones making the sacrifices, soldier,” he said. “The Order of St. George, and this chapterhouse, is more honorable than that. We must meet them halfway at least. Go with Sebastian, procure the weapon and aid them in any way you can. That is an order, St. Anthony.”
Tristan saluted. “Yes, sir.”
“Uh, one question,” Riley said. “How are we supposed to get on this armed train? I assume it’ll be moving. And they’ll certainly notice a car pulling up alongside it.”
Martin gave that faint smile. “A stealthy approach is definitely recommended,” he replied, and I suddenly realized what he was implying. “If I were to plan an attack, I would suggest a drop from above.”
Garret (#u9917cbca-01fa-5b5e-a60d-27ff0027e5a1)
“It’s late,” Tristan muttered. “That’s not a good sign.”
I glanced at him. There were four of us, sitting on or around an old black jeep, about two hundred yards from the tracks. Me, Tristan, Ember and Riley: two soldiers of St. George and two dragons waiting side by side. I could feel the subtle tension in the soldiers around me, both dragon and human; both sides uncomfortable with having the other so close. Riley and Tristan, in particular, seemed especially agitated. Probably because the first part of the mission involved dropping onto the train from dragonback, and to say neither seemed thrilled with that idea was a gross understatement. But as much as they might hate it, and each other, they would carry the mission through. Tristan because Martin had ordered it, and Riley because he knew we had to secure the Order’s help to reach the facility. I just hoped we could get through this night with no incidents. Missions were difficult enough when your team liked and respected each other; forcing two lifelong enemies to work together was a much riskier operation.
Beside me, Ember was quiet, watching the tracks as we waited on the passenger’s side of the jeep. Like me, she was dressed in black: black sweater, pants and a dark ski cap pulled over her bright red hair. Though for her part, she wouldn’t need them much longer. She seemed calm, far calmer than Riley or even Tristan, though my ex-partner hid his anxiousness well. I could feel the subtle heat of her body next to mine, tempting me to pull her close, but I stifled those urges for now. The mission took priority. I could feel Tristan watching us sometimes, stealing a glance when he thought I wasn’t looking, his expression caught between confusion and doubt. Like he was trying to puzzle something out, and neither of us were giving him the answers he expected.
Abruptly, Tristan’s phone buzzed. He pulled it from his pocket and held it to his ear, then muttered a short “Roger that” a moment later. Lowering his arm, he glanced at me. “Ryan just gave the heads-up. Train’s on its way now. We’re about ten minutes from go time.”
Ember took a deep breath and looked at Riley. “Guess that’s our cue.”
Riley gave a curt nod, and the two dragons moved into the shadows, ducking behind the copse of trees at our backs and vanishing from sight. Tristan let out a furtive breath and glanced at my side of the Jeep.
“This is crazy. You realize that, right?”
Apparently, his enthusiasm for the heist had dulled when he’d realized he had to be part of it. “Yeah. I know.”
“We’re robbing a train—a freaking train—on dragonback. Two soldiers of St. George, flying in on dragons, to pull off a train heist in the middle of nowhere. I mean, stop for a second and really think about how ludicrous that sounds.”
I gave a half smile. “My whole year has sort of been like that.” Pushing myself off the car door, I walked forward a few steps and gazed down the tracks, looking for the telltale glimmer of the train. Briefly, I thought of all the things that had happened to me since I’d fled the Order in the company of dragons. Meeting the rogues. Being kidnapped by an ancient Eastern dragon. Discovering Talon’s clone army. Going to Brazil to meet the most powerful rogue in the world and the second-oldest dragon in existence. Any one of those things might give a normal soldier of St. George a nervous breakdown. All because I’d committed the strangest crime of all: falling in love with the enemy. “Actually, this is pretty far down the weirdness scale for me,” I told Tristan, who arched his brows. “I’m so desensitized to it now I don’t think I can be surprised anymore.”
Tristan shook his head. “Damn, Sebastian,” he muttered. “I don’t even want to know what you’ve been doing the past few months. Living with the lizards.” He snorted. “I can’t imagine what that’s like.”
“They’re not that different from us,” I told him. For a moment, a small, tired part of me wondered if I was wasting my breath, but I stomped on that voice. Convincing the Order was not going to be done overnight. We had made an amazing amount of progress already; I couldn’t expect Tristan to start trusting dragons after twenty-two years of trying to eliminate their entire race. “It’s not like I was living with robots or wild dogs,” I went on.
“You’ve said that before,” Tristan muttered.
“And I’m even more certain now.” I turned, narrowing my eyes at him. “I’ve lived with these dragons for months,” I said, holding his gaze. “I’ve fought beside them, argued with them, rescued a few from Talon and the Order and had my own ass saved a few times. I’ve spent more hours with these dragons than anyone else in the history of St. George ever has. I think I should know them, and their intentions, by now.”
“Easy, tiger.” Tristan held up his hands. “I’m not disagreeing with you. And...holy shit.”
I glanced calmly over my shoulder as two long, scaly forms prowled out of the shadows under the trees, their eyes glowing yellow and green in the darkness. They appeared without noise or warning, silent despite their relatively large size, wings and claws making no sound as they glided over the dirt. Tristan straightened, one hand dropping to his sidearm, making Cobalt curl a lip at him.
“Don’t be stupid, St. George,” the rogue growled, breaking the silence. With a snort, he stalked around the other side of the jeep, subtly putting the vehicle between himself and the soldier. “I’m already hating this enough as it is.”
My ex-partner blinked, probably from hearing the sarcastic voice and tone coming out of a dragon’s mouth. Another reminder that Riley and the dragon were the same—same creature, same personality—just wearing different forms.
Ember padded up behind me and laid her chin on my shoulder as she gazed at the tracks. Her scales were warm, not heavy or uncomfortable, and I could see the reflection of her glowing dragon eyes in the corner of my own gaze. I felt Tristan staring at us again, and wondered what he thought about having a dragon’s fire-breathing jaws and lethal fangs a breath away from your throat. I could almost hear him squirming uncomfortably against the jeep, thinking I was tempting fate. I felt nothing. Nothing but the calm stillness before a mission. If anything, the steady breathing of the dragon beside me, her dark wings casting us in even more shadow, only made me certain of our success. She knew what she had to do. This wasn’t anything new or strange. We’d been through so many crazy circumstances together that having a large crimson dragon leaning against me felt perfectly normal. Ember the dragon was no different than Ember the human. I trusted her with my life.
Now, if Tristan and Cobalt could tolerate each other long enough to get this done, and not kill each other on the way, things would be perfect.
“There it is,” Ember murmured.
My senses sharpened, and I raised my head, followed her gaze. A distant spotlight was cutting through the darkness, winking in and out through the trees. I could hear it, suddenly, the clank of metal on iron tracks, the rattle of dozens of cars, and I breathed slowly to control my heartbeat.
“All right,” Cobalt growled, and took a breath, as if he was psyching himself up to do something horribly unpleasant, like plunge his head into a bucket of spiders. “I guess it’s time. Let’s get this circus show on the road.”
I double-checked to make certain I had everything I needed as Ember stepped forward and lowered her wings, crouching slightly as she did. Careful to avoid her spines, I swung onto her back, settling in front of her wing joints. For a moment, I felt a weird sense of déjà vu. The last time I’d done this was the night Ember and Cobalt had broken me out of the Western Chapterhouse hours before my execution could’ve taken place. This was a very different scenario. So much had changed.
I glanced at Tristan, who was standing next to Cobalt with an uncertain look on his face, as if contemplating the best way to mount a dragon. Cobalt, for his part, was making it as easy as he could; his wings were lowered and the frill that went down his back and neck had been folded flat to his spine. The blue dragon stared straight ahead, unmoving, only the tip of his tail beating an irritated rhythm in the dust, as Tristan struggled with the problem. Finally, Cobalt let out an impatient hiss.
“Are you waiting for a saddle, St. George? Our ride is almost here. Let’s go.”
“Shit,” Tristan muttered, and threw himself onto the dragon’s back. He scrabbled gracelessly for a moment, trying to find the best position, before settling in front of the wings as I had done. “Ow, dammit, watch where your spines are poking,” he growled as Cobalt smirked back at him. “I’m not planning to have kids, but I’d still like the option.”
Cobalt snickered. “I’ll try not to come to any sudden stops.”
Ember raised her head and peered at me, her eyes a solemn green in the darkness. “Ready?” she asked. I nodded.
The train approached, rumbling along the track, its single light piercing the darkness before it. I felt Ember’s muscles coil, felt the ripple of power that went through the dragon as her wings unfurled to either side of me like sails. She crouched, and I braced myself as she launched herself into the air with one powerful downward flap. Wind blasted me, tearing at my hair and clothes, as we rose into the air, the ground falling swiftly away into blackness. I kept myself pressed low over Ember’s neck, gritting my teeth as we climbed, my arms wrapped tightly around her neck.
Ember leveled out, her wing beats becoming less frequent and powerful as she eased into a glide, buoyed on the wind currents. Carefully, I sat up and looked around for Tristan.
Cobalt soared alongside us a few yards to the right, wings outstretched, tail streaming behind him. It was hard to tell from the distance and the movement of the dragons, but I thought there was a smirk on his scaly face. Behind his shoulders, Tristan was still flat against the dragon’s body, arms wrapped around his neck in a death grip. His eyes weren’t closed, but his jaw was clenched, and his gaze was fixed firmly to a spot between Cobalt’s horns, as if he were refusing to look down. I bit the corner of my lip, not knowing whether to feel sympathy or amusement. Abruptly, his gaze flickered to me, a death glare shooting from his eyes. The howling wind would blow away our voices, but I didn’t have to hear him to know what he was thinking. Laugh and I will kill you.
The train snaked away below us, cutting a silent path to the north. Ember angled a wingtip down, and we glided after it.
I bent forward, pressing close to the dragon’s neck as she dropped lower, wings beating occasionally to stay aloft. Winds buffeted us, and Ember wobbled in the gusts coming off the train, but we soared over the caboose and dropped even lower, skimming just ten or so feet from the moving rail cars.
The prototype is in the sixth car from the engine, I thought, remembering Martin’s instructions to us before we left. According to my sources, the prototype and the cars immediately adjacent to it will be under guard, but the rest of the train should be empty. If you want to get the drop on them, the best way is to go through one of the roof hatches of the cars before it.
The engine and tinder car loomed ahead of us. Ember drew up, then back-flapped her wings three times and dropped from the air. Her talons hit the roof with a metallic thump, and she instantly splayed her feet to keep her balance on the moving car.
Carefully, I slid off the dragon’s back and took a moment to find my balance, as well. The train wasn’t moving very fast, but the rooftop was narrow, and the car shook and rattled as it continued down the tracks. I crouched next to Ember as Cobalt and Tristan landed behind us, the scrape of claws on the metal roof echoing over the wind.
Ember swung her head around to face me, concern shining from her green dragon eyes. “You got this, soldier boy?” she asked, her breath warm even through the shrieking wind. “I still don’t like the thought of leaving you here. What if you need backup?”
“We’ll be fine.” I glanced at Tristan as he slid down and crouched low as I had done. “This is part of the plan. We’re not here to fight the whole train. We just need to get in, get to the prototype and get out quickly. It shouldn’t be too heavily guarded—no one is expecting an attack, especially one where people drop onto the roof from dragons.” I half smiled at her, and she rolled her eyes. “Just follow the train and stay close,” I continued, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Be ready to come swooping in when it’s time. If everything goes according to plan, we’ll be leaving the train from car six in approximately ten minutes.”
Her eyes narrowed. “And if everything does not go according to plan?”
Tristan snorted, keeping his body bent horizontal to the roof as he joined us. “Then we’ll still need that extraction,” he told the dragon. “Just double time.”
“Oh, sure, we can do that,” Cobalt added, creeping behind him like a giant blue cat, his wings fluttering wildly in the wind. “Go ahead and hurl yourself off the roof of the train, St. George. I promise, I’ll try my best to catch you.”
Ember sighed. “Be careful, Garret,” she whispered, drawing away. The wind ripped at me almost instantly, cold and eager to push me off the edge. “Don’t get killed over this. We’ll be close. If you’re not on the roof in ten minutes, I’m coming in after you.”
“Ten minutes,” I told her. “See you then.”
Ember crouched, half opened her wings and sprang off the car, blasting me with wind as she rose into the air. A second later, Cobalt did the same, and the two dragons soared up into the darkness until they were lost from sight.
I glanced at Tristan, and he nodded. Now it was our turn. Ember and Cobalt had done their part in getting us here unseen. It was up to us to find the prototype, subdue any opposition guarding it and get out before the rest of the guards discovered what was going on.
We crept along the roof, keeping our footsteps light and our shoulders braced against the wind, until we reached the hatch at one of the corners. Our objective was two cars down, but there was a guard car between us, with armed soldiers inside. Even if Ember and Riley had been as quiet as they could, two dragons with a pair of riders landing on the roof of a metal car with soldiers still inside would have drawn attention and given us away. We couldn’t swoop onto the prototype car, not without alerting the US military to the existence of dragons. We had to take care of the guards before we went after the prototype.
As Tristan pulled open the hatch and shined a flashlight into the pitch-blackness within, a shadow overhead caught my attention. I glanced up to see two dragon-shaped blurs against the night sky, dark wings outstretched as they glided after the train. Ember and Cobalt, right where they’d said they would be.
“Clear,” Tristan said at my shoulder. “Let’s move.”
I switched on my flashlight, pulled out my weapon with my other hand and dropped through the hatch.
I hit a metal floor in a crouch, then quickly scanned my surroundings for enemies. The narrow space was empty, the walls bare. I stepped aside as Tristan landed next to me with a barely audible thump, and we crept toward the door at the end of the box. The metal barrier was latched but not locked, and we quickly slipped through onto the platform of the next car, pressing ourselves beside the doorframe. After a moment of silence, I knelt at the door and opened a compartment on my vest to pull out a long black tube, while Tristan stood at the frame and watched my back.
Silently, I fed the snake cam through the crack beneath the door, watching the screen as I turned the night vision lens to scan the room beyond. There were two soldiers standing in the room about fifteen feet from the door, talking to each other. Their postures were relaxed, though both carried M16s in their hands. They obviously weren’t expecting an attack, but we’d have to be quick. If we ignored these two guards, they would engage us while we were trying to make our escape.
I pulled the snake cam out and held up two fingers to Tristan, indicating the room beyond. He nodded and swung out of his pack, then pulled out strips of breaching charges before handing them to me. When the charges had been placed over the locks and hinges, we retreated back to the first car, and Tristan held up three fingers. Two. One.
Both of us turned away as the boom of an explosion rocked the night and sent smoke billowing from the door. Before the smoke had even cleared, Tristan rushed to the frame, kicked in the crippled door and tossed a flashbang into the room.
Shouts of alarm came from inside, just as a retina-burning flash pierced the darkness, followed by a muffled boom of energy. I lunged through the frame and saw a pair of dazed, reeling soldiers just before Tristan and I slammed into them. My soldier didn’t resist as I snaked an arm around his throat and sent him into unconsciousness.
Lowering the limp sentry to the floor, I looked up at Tristan, who nodded grimly as he released the second unconscious guard. That took care of this car, but the one with our objective in it was surely going to be more of a challenge. Any soldiers in it had certainly heard the explosions caused by charges and flashbangs and would know that they were under attack. They’d be ready for us.
Swiftly, we moved to the other end of the car. As we pressed to either side of the frame, Tristan nodded at me, and I quickly pushed open the door.
A hail of machine gun fire rang out. I jerked back as a storm of bullets peppered the frame, sparking off the railings and metal walls. Apparently, the guards had decided to take the initiative and not wait for us to kick in the door. From the sounds of the weapons, two soldiers stood to either side of the frame, firing M16s in sharp three-round bursts at us. Tristan and I pressed back behind the doorframe, sparks flying around us, and waited for an opportunity to move. I had a flashbang in hand, but the soldiers were giving us no chance to counterstrike. If I poked any body part out of cover now, I would get a bullet through it.
There was a roar overhead, a swooping of leathery wings, and a curtain of fire suddenly appeared between us and the soldiers. It blazed against the darkness, blindingly hot and intense, and the storm of gunfire ceased amid loud cursing and cries of alarm. The shadow swooped up and out of sight, too fast to be seen clearly, but for a few seconds the soldiers gaped after it, stunned. Long enough for me to pop out and hurl the flashbang at their feet.
The force of the explosion threw one soldier into the wall, where he collapsed, motionless. The other staggered back, reeling, and Tristan leaped over the space between cars, kicked him in the stomach and followed with a savage right hook to the guard’s temple that knocked him senseless.
The way to our objective was clear. Quickly, we ducked through the door, wary for more soldiers lying in ambush, but the car was empty save for a narrow wooden table in the middle of the floor. A lamp sat atop it, bathing the table in a dim orange glow, and in the center of the light lay a long case of glimmering metal.
Tristan let out a breath, reached out and pulled the case toward him. It was almost certainly our objective, but we had to make sure. The case was padlocked shut, but a pair of heavy-duty bolt cutters took care of that problem. The latch released with a click, and Tristan yanked it open.
