“Just that.” He picked up a blanket and wrapped it loosely around his shoulders, then sat down beside me. Even though we weren’t touching, his warmth flowed around me, heating the chill from my skin far swifter than the rising brightness of the day. “We are conditioned from the cradle not to talk about the clique. Every single day of our childhood we were told that those who talk about family business to outsiders will die. You hear it so often it becomes a part of your very nature.”
Disbelief surged, and I looked at him. “Surely they wouldn’t actually—”
“Not they. Him. The bastard we call king. And I’ve seen it done, many times. Our clique is a law unto itself in this matter—and no one, absolutely no one, dares to defy that law.” He looked at me, eyes glimmering in the growing light. “I have told you more about the clique than I have ever told anyone. But the training is still there, and it is very hard to break. Especially when it involves those that I love.”
“So you think your sister is in danger rather than just trouble?”
“I don’t know. But would you take the risk?”
“No.” I leaned a little closer to him, so that our shoulders touched. “Was she living at home with your mom before she disappeared?”
He snorted softly. “Most of us half breeds get out as quick as we can. We’re protected from the worst excesses of the clique until we reach sixteen, but after that it’s open season.”
I frowned. “What do you mean by that?”
“Let’s just say that young male air dragons tend to like testing their strength and their sexual prowess, and a lot of them aren’t particular about gender.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Air dragons are bisexual?”
“Mostly, no, but in our clique there aren’t a lot of breeding females. Hence the abundance of draman like myself. Those who can’t find human release often turn to each other.”
“But if there’s twelve other cliques, why don’t they just go elsewhere? Surely the female shortage doesn’t run through all the cliques?”
“I suspect it doesn’t, but air dragons are notoriously protective over what they class as ‘their own.’ It’s that whole not-sharing-the-loot mentality that was apparently prevalent in the early days.”
“So did any of these young dragons ever try their wily ways on you?”
Amusement glimmered briefly in his eyes. “Only one. I handed him back his balls on a platter and was never bothered after that.”
“Not surprising.”
“No. Mercy was pretty self-sufficient, as well, but she was attacked several times. Most of the time, I was there to stop it before it went too far, but once I was forced out—” He hesitated and shrugged. “She pretty much left when she hit sixteen. She came to San Francisco and lived with me while she finished school and studied journalism, then got an apartment with several friends.”
“If your mom’s so worried about her, why wouldn’t she go talk to the police?”
“Because talking to the police would be involving outsiders. And that would jeopardize my mother.”
“But she’s human, not dragon.”
“Yes, but she’s been employed by the clique since she was eighteen, and considers them her family. If she calls the cops, she’d lose that family—either by losing her life, or being thrown out of the clique.”
“Just how big is your clique?”
He hesitated. “There would be over a hundred and fifty, if you just counted dragons.”
“That many dragons cannot go unnoticed forever. Not in this day and age.”
“Ah, but they rarely take dragon form these days. Even the young are taught to fly in the early hours of dawn, when few humans are about.” He shrugged. “The cliques have thousands of years of practice melding into civilization while remaining apart. They might capture the odd individual, but they will never find more than that.”
I wasn’t so sure. Especially given the scientists now had dragons working for them.
“Your sister didn’t leave a contact number or a message with any of her friends?”
“She did leave a message with a friend saying she had a tip about a story, and was going to investigate it. That was weeks ago.”
“Why can’t you report her disappearance? I mean, you don’t give a damn about clique politics, and you have no position within the clique to lose.”
“But again, my mom has, and if I did report it, she would be punished for it.” He shrugged, seemingly accepting of the situation despite the surge of anger I could feel in him. “Besides, we don’t know where she actually went. Hard to track someone—or prove they’re missing—if they’ve already told you they’ll be out of contact for a while.”
“So how does your dad know her whereabouts?”
“Apparently the Arizona clique sent word about her.”
“Meaning she’s probably in Arizona. Have you searched the area?”
He glanced at me. “Of course. But Arizona isn’t exactly a small state.”
“And the Arizona clique won’t help?”
He snorted. “Help the unwanted bastard son of a California clique? Not likely.”
I raised an eyebrow. “So despite the fact the cliques work together for self-protection from humans, they don’t exactly get along?”
“You could say that.” Amusement ran through his voice, and a tremor that was all desire tripped across my skin.
“Meaning your father might not actually know anything. He could be lying in an effort to get the ring back.”
“He could, and I certainly don’t trust him one iota, but I do believe he knows something.” His sudden smile was cold. Hard. “His strength is waning rapidly and he’s desperate for the ring. I think, in this case, he’ll tell me what he knows.”
I studied him for a moment, then asked, “So why did the conditioning break now? Why not before?”
He smiled and reached under the blanket to gently clasp my hand. His skin was slightly rough against mine, but so warm. I opened my hand, letting his fingers slide between mine, feeling an odd rightness in the gesture.
“Because the conditioning only works with strangers. You have become far more than that to me now.”
“And you to me.” It sounded so lame, and there was so much more I wished I could say, but suddenly my stupid tongue was all tied in knots and the words I really wanted to say got stuck in my throat.
But maybe that was for the best. With everything I still had to do, what was the point of pouring my heart out?
I watched the sea for a while, looking for any sign that the magic was returning, then said, “What if she’s met a nice man and is having the time of her life?”
His sudden grin had a wry twist to it. “Are there any nice men still out here in the world?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t met any lately.”
He glanced at me, eyebrows raised and a devilish twinkle in his eyes. “I could play nice, if you want.”
“I know the sort of nice you’re talking about,” I replied dryly. “But if you want that ring, we’d better behave. The sea doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
“Later, then.”
“Much later.” When this was all over, and everyone was safe.
Silence fell again, and day grew around us, bringing houses and the bay to life. I dragged my knees close to my chest, watching the water, watching the dance of sunlight across the waves. Feeling the growing sense of power rumbling underneath them.
Eventually I tossed off the blanket and walked back into the water. The sense of power grew stronger, swirling around my legs. Farther out in the bay, a long plume of water became visible, its silver droplets twinkling and gleaming like rainbows as something rushed toward me.
I held out my hand, palm up, as the plume of water drew ever closer. Then there was a flash of silver, the warm kiss of water across my palm, and the ring was returned.
“Thank you.”
The quick dance of sparkling droplets said the words had been accepted and acknowledged by the deeper energy of the sea, then they, too, were gone.