Banking into a tight turn, Rannock swung north. Molten metal streamed from his wingtips. Twin trails of flame arched across the skyscape.
With a snarl, Levin dove beneath the flux. As he spiraled back up, he threw Rannock another irate look.
A link opened into mind-speak.
“Bloody hell, Ran,” Levin said with a growl. “Shut down the metal works. You want the witch tae see us coming?”
“You think she’s really blind?” Kruger asked, flipping up and over, staying on his wingtip, but well away from flecks of molten steel. “Or is it meant to be a diversion?”
Tempel snorted. “Does it matter?”
More liquid metal flew.
“Seriously, Ran. Shut that shit down,” Levin snapped, swerving to avoid the backsplash. “You’re a living, breathing, flying light show.”
Nothing but the mission on his mind, Rannock ignored his packmates in favor of scanning the rough terrain ahead of him. Chattahoochee National Forest—thick woodland, high elevations, and rugged topography riding the tail end of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Pretty country. Few roads. Even fewer humans around. A six-and-a-half-hour drive from Savannah. Less than an hour flight in dragon form.
Levin sighed.
“I’m cloaked,” Rannock said, attention on the shimmer rising over the range. Blue hue. Soft glow. Magic-driven.
“Barely.”
Hunting for a weakness in the shield, Rannock angled his wings. Wind shear sliced over his horns. His sonar pinged. Dark orange webbing vibrated as he breathed in, inhaling ancient Fae magic and the smell of pine into his lungs.
He dove toward the canopy.
White contrails joined the burning embers swirling from his wingtips as he levelled out over the treetops. Night vision sharp, he searched the landscape, looking for the insertion point. He’d looked at maps inside Habersham House, studied the terrain, and made a plan. One that provided the best chance of success… and the least time away from Cate.
Ice chips pinged off his scales as Levin flipped up and over. “Ran.”
“Cloaking spell’s tight, Lev. No one can see me.” Riding the wind whistling over the ridge, he scanned the ground. “Witches included.”
“Metallics,” Levin muttered. “So bloody stubborn.”
Tempel huffed in amusement.
“Know you’re angry, lad,” Kruger said, emerald-green scales flashing in the bright slash of liquid bronze. Getting as close as he dared, he murmured, understanding how Rannock felt without asking. Not surprising. Brighter than most, Kruger always read him right. “If I had a mate, I’d hate leaving her too, especially like that, but if you donnae knock it off, you’re going tae start a forest fire.”
“Bet humans’ll be able tae see that.” Ice-blue eyes flashing with temper, Levin threw him a sidelong look. “All the way from fucking space.”
Tempel grinned, flashing huge fangs.
Clenching his own, Rannock powered down the metalworks. He knew his brothers-in-arms were right, but… man, it was hard to rein in his rage. Almost impossible as he recalled the look on his mate’s face when he left her in the bedroom. Naked. Tangled up in sheets infused with his scent. Dark blue eyes full of fear, but not a single tear. Cate kissed him goodbye, but hadn’t resorted to crying. He sensed she wanted to, but she’d held on to her composure… for him. So he could do what needed to be done.
His talons twitched.
Pain burned through him as his razor-sharp claws bit into his palm. Goddess help him. Connected to her in elemental ways, he felt what she did while saying goodbye—worry, dread, the burning desire to go with him and help in whatever way she could. Her reaction fueled his, making it nearly impossible for him to walk away.
For him to leave her alone. In a house full of males he didn’t trust.
With a snarl, he increased his velocity from scale-rattling to spine-bending.
“Lock it down, Ran,” Tempel said, thumping him with the side of his quadruple-bladed tail. Sharp edges met bronze scales. Sparks flew, tumbling between the spikes riding his spine. “Need you focused.”
“I’m good,” he murmured, telling the truth. As always, fury narrowed his focus, drilling down, unearthing his abilities, drawing potent magic up to his surface. The metallic threads in his bloodstream began to bubble. Magnetic force spun deep inside him, seeping through his interlocking dragon skin.
A low hum bled into the air.
Water molecules vaporized.
His vision tunneled as he banked into a wide turn. Spying a break in the blue mist disguising the shield, Rannock shifted in mid-flight. He went wings vertical, tilting, holding a straight line, slicing between towering pines. Wood creaked. Branches swayed. Black in the moon glow, the leafy forage of great oaks rustled as he tightened the cloaking spell keeping him invisible in the sky.
His wingtip cut through the brume. Magic shimmered, bubbling into blue froth.
Slowing his speed, he sank into fog, disappearing beneath the glamour protecting the Witch’s Cauldron. The spell swallowed the light. Darkness turned to deep black.
“Single file, lads.” Holding steady, disrupting the Fae magic as little as possible, Rannock ghosted over a stream. The brook gurgled. The smell of fresh water swirled. Fog rolled over his scales, painting his scales with a blue tinge. The forest whispered. He murmured back, mimicking the buzzing sound of insects at work. “Tail to tail until we land.”
Kruger swung in behind him. Levin and Tempel followed suit, using his wake to hide their numbers.
Silence descended. Black creases became lightening shadows.
Rolling in on a slow glide, Rannock flew over a bluff, then dipped down the other side. Craggy rock opened into a narrow valley. He followed the seam, sliding beneath the attention of watchful eyes.
An owl hooted.
Fish splashed in a nearby stream.
Spotting the opening he needed to set down, Rannock folded his wings. Not a lot. Just halfway, using the webbing to slow his descent. His back paws touched down, not a whisper of sound as his claws carved through compact loam and lose pine needles. Settling into a crouch, he sidestepped, standing guard as his brothers-in-arms landed in the clearing.
Dragon scales rustled.
Mimicking his position, no one made moved as dark magic stroked over ridged scales.
Levin’s gaze cut to his.
Rannock shook his head. “Wait. Let it settle.”
Tucking his tail around his paws, Kruger searched the western edge of the forest. Tempel looked east as he and Levin took north and south. No one moved. Rannock barely breathed as he and his brothers waited in the gloom in dragon form. The best way to go. Interlocking dragon skin provided more protection than the human variety. And really… why make it easier for the creepers prowling the dark wood?
With his magic up and running, he sensed the sentries from miles away. Creatures created to protect a Fae homestead. Left behind when the colony abandoned the area, the creepers were vicious. No real threat to a warrior in dragon form, but killing the beasts would make noise. A lot of it. Something he wanted to avoid tonight.
Muscles locked, still as a statue, Rannock scanned his quadrant, searching for danger in the darkness. Awash in witchcraft, the forest stood in torment, still and colorless, in sickening tones of grey. A bleak picture. A terrible poisoning. The abiding stench of woodlands long abused and forgotten.