Chapter Fifteen
“No. No. No.” Sigurd said, and said again, “No.”
“It’s been decided.” Bogdan played with the keys of his keyboard.
“What about Stonehenge? What about the band?” Sigurd spread out his arms. “The show must go on!”
Blake slapped his comrade on the back. “Sigurd. I hear you. It’s a break. Go off grid for a bit, regroup, rename, and be back in business when this mess is all over.”
“But Stonehenge was to be our last before the break,” Sigurd said.
“We do this every midcentury. New name. New generation. New songs.” Bogdan explained to Jacques getting up from behind the drums.
“But we’re a real hit this time! More famous than ever. What about our fans?” Sigurd looked at Blake, gripping his guitar by the neck.
“We’re one-decade wonders.” Bogdan powered down his keyboard.
“How will you explain to your fans when you don’t age like they do?” Ten to a hundred-year ratio did cause some complications when it came to fitting in with humanity.
Blake had his doubts about the young fury, but Sigurd knew better. After these many centuries, they always came back and regrouped. They never strayed far from their pendragon. And they always retired to the island to drop off the humans’ radar.
“But Stonehenge! Really?” Sigurd fisted his hands.
“Come on, Blake. Give the man one more concert. You know he only gets laid when we have a concert,” Bogdan said.
“Why is that?” Jacques asked.
Sigurd scowled. He put down his guitar. “I’ll have you know the ladies love me. Can’t get enough. Where ever I go.”
“Then you’ll have no problem fitting in amongst the natives in Harghita.” Blake crossed his arms.
“There aren’t many. Government issued security, Uncle Istavan, and when I was last there, Ash, for assistance.” Jacques flipped the drum sticks in his hand. “I’d be careful though, Margaret didn’t send Ash there without an agenda of her own.”
“What? You’re sending me to solitary confinement? No concert. No women. And you’re sticking me in an ovulation tank.” Sigurd put his hands on his hips. Any other time Blake would have had more patience with his friend’s sputtering tantrum. Not tonight. With the counsel summoning, the egg still attached to Emily, no word from Edmund and Naomi still gone, concerts and Sigurd’s sex life was the least of his worries.
“It’s almost sunset. You two need to head out. Bogdan, you’re on watch tonight with Garth down and Edmund on the hunt.”
Bogdan saluted him. “No one gets past the red zone.”
“Nothing more than a horny, green-scaled, fireball is all he is.” Sigurd picked up his pack and Jacques handing it to the dark-haired rookie. No more than his mid-twenties, even in dragon years, the younger man was still a babe in dragon years. For both Emily and Jacques sake, sending him to Rainsburg had been the best choice.
“Better than a blue snout mouth treasure hoarder,” Bogdan shot back at him.
“Antiques. I can’t help I enjoy a few antiques here and there to remember the century by.” Sigurd slung his pack on and walked past Bogdan.
He’d adopted this misfit band over the years, having so few of his bloodline left in this world. Herds stuck to their own kind, but Blake had welcomed the outcasts. First, saving Edmund in the streets of London after crossing territories. Then Sigurd, lost and lonely clung to him for friendship and guidance. Then Bogdan, a gift from the Italian republic during a treaty deal with the counsel. Garth, Naomi, and Olaus were the last of his herd to serve and watch over the island. Now Jacques. What a sorry sad state they had become, but he’d take them all in and call them brother in a heartbeat if he had to do it again.
“Don’t be stopping for a souvenir. You go. You bring Emily’s father back. Pronto.”
“Stonehenge?” Sigurd’s brows rose, hopeful.
“We’ll see if you all make it back in time.”
Sigurd did a fist pump. “Yes! I knew it. I knew you couldn’t let Stonehenge go.”
“Get going, you haven’t got all night. Fury here can’t hold onto his wings in the day light.” Bogdan gave Sigurd a shove.
“What? You can’t fly by day?” Sigurd asked Jacques as Bogdan pushed them out the door and up the steps out of the music studio.
Bogdan waited for him in the upstairs entrance of the manor. “How long before you have to answer the summons?”
“Before the tides turn.” Not much time. Summer winds would change direction in a few months. He couldn’t put them off longer than that. By then, he hoped his fiu would hatch.
“It’s not like Edmund to go without word for so long,” Bogdan said. Blake could see the concern in the other dragon-shifter’s gaze.
“If he’s hooked up with an American then he’s bound to be gone longer than usual.”
“Doesn’t feel right. Split’n us up like this. We’re usually tight. You know?”
Blake did know. Too many things threatened to separate them. They needed to stick together now more than ever. People like Margaret Moldvan needed stopped and the dragon breeds brought together to live in peace. For too long they had been caged and forced to hide by those cursed old laws and human governments.
One day it would change. With the hatching of his fiu, he would see the ancient laws lifted and humans and dragons living in harmony. He heard it then, Emily’s voice singing in her sweet sleep-husky voice. He envisioned her cradling his fiu, all of his fiu, rocking them, singing them to sleep. They were to become a family.
“It won’t be long now. I’ll relieve you at first light,” Blake said, Emily heavy on his mind.
He turned and went up the stairs. Humming the lullaby, he heard her singing. He heard her singing! Blake’s heart skipped a beat. He could hear her! Their bond had grown stronger.