Ivar nodded.
“What do you know about wrens?”
“Not much beyond the fact they are a magically distinct species.” Stepping around the end of the bed, Ivar touched one of the spikes along the wren’s spine. A pinprick of blood welled on his fingertip. “And that we nearly hunted them into extinction a few centuries ago.”
“A brutal practice that forced wrens underground… or rather, into the Ether.”
“Jesus,” Ivar murmured, surprise spinning him full circle. No one entered the Ether and lived to tell about it. Owned by a deity, the vast space lay between Heaven and Earth. The magical wasteland acted as a cushion, protecting the creators of all things from the earthly realm, but was ruled by one. “The Goddess of All Things allowed this?”
“She offered all wrens sanctuary, inviting them to make a home within the enchanted lands.” Dark eyes intense, Hamersveld pushed Fen away to sit on the side of the bed. As the Norwegian’s bare feet touched down, the wren curled around his master from behind, half on the bed, half off, and laid his head in his lap. “With a proviso.”
Typical fare for the goddess. She was a vindictive bitch. One who never gave without taking something in return. Witness the fact she’d punished all of Dragonkind for the mistake of a philandering idiot—Silfer, the dragon god—tying his race to humankind, cursing them to procreate with the inferior species, taking their ability to feed themselves from the Meridian and sire female offspring. A circumstance Ivar hoped to change with his serum and the breeding program.
“What did she demand in return?” Ivar asked, repositioning the chair beside the bed. Angled toward Hamersveld now, he sat and, lifting his legs, propped his feet on the bed. The journal he’d left perched on the arm slid sideways. Quick reflexes allowed him to snap it up. His gaze glued to his new friend, he rotated the red leather-bound book in his hands. “A lifetime of servitude?”
Hamersveld shook his head. “Her hatred of us does not extend to our relatives.”
“What then?”
“She changed their magical makeup.”
“Forced evolution.” Made sense. A species might evolve over time, helping the subset adjust to changing ecological conditions, but it didn’t happen fast. Or all at once. Which gave Ivar a clue. Hell. She’d remade an entire species to protect them from inevitable extinction. “So now a wren must bond to a Dragonkind male to ensure his survival. He doesn’t feed in the usual fashion, does he? You nourish him via your energy, the same way human females feed us.”
“Very good, Ivar. You’re a quick study.” Hands moving in continuous sweeps, he stroked his pet’s scales. Fen purred in reaction. “The tribal ink I wear acts as an outlet… a kind of conduit. Whenever Fen is hungry, he plugs in, becoming one with the tattoo and connects to the Meridian through me.”
“And only a male with the right ink can own a wren.”
“Exactly.”
“How can I get one?”
“You can’t. The marking comes with the change. Either a male is gifted with the ink or he isn’t. No negotiating it.” Hamersveld’s focus cut to the journal in his hands. “The moment a male transitions, the tattoo sends out a beacon, allowing the colony of wrens to detect him. After that, it’s a race to the finish line. All wrens wish to return to Earth. It’s a better life. But only the strongest and fastest will reach the Dragonkind male first and—”
“Create the bond necessary for him to remain on Earth.”
As Hamersveld nodded, Ivar cursed. “So the Nightfury water-rat?”
“He wears the ink. It is only a matter of time before a wren reaches him.”
“How soon will it happen?”
“Depends. The journey out of the Ether is a long one. It took Fen almost a year to reach me.”
“We need to kill him before that happens.” As in… right fucking now. “Bastian has enough weapons at his disposal. With a wren in their camp… Jesus. We don’t need that kind of trouble.”
“The whelp may not live through the bonding period. Only the strongest males survive it. I became very sick when Fen melded his life force with mine.” Lost in the memory, Hamersveld shook his head. “But don’t worry. One way or the other, my son will be dead soon enough.”
Ivar blinked. “Your son?”
“Only a water dragon can breed another, Ivar.”
“Will killing him be a problem for you?”
“Not even a small one,” Hamersveld murmured, a deadly thread in his tone. “I am unique among our kind. I have killed my offspring for centuries to ensure I stay that way. The Nightfury will be no exception.”
Well, all right then. Crisis averted. In the nick of time too. He wanted to get back to the lab. After losing days caring for Hamersveld, he’d fallen behind on Project Supervirus. So much to do, so little time. Ivar thumbed the tattered pages of his notebook. He needed to round up a new batch of humans to—
“What’s in the journal?” Holding his gaze, Hamersveld raised a brow.
Ivar hesitated, playing a game of should-he shouldn’t-he with himself. How much should he share? Every detail? Or only the basics? He debated a moment, intuition urging him to take the plunge while logic advocated caution. Up until this point, only one male had known the ins and outs of his plan. A pang hit him chest level as he thought of Lothair. God, he missed the male, but mourning him didn’t change the facts. His best friend was dead, long gone thanks to his enemies. Now he must start over. And Hamersveld—a warrior who was willing to kill his own son? Hell, he might never find a better counterpart in the war he waged against the Nightfuries, and by extension, humankind.
“How much do you know about science?”
“Enough.”
Satisfied with the answer, Ivar nodded and laid it out. As he talked, Hamersveld interrupted here and there, asking questions, making astute observations, affirming his choice to bring the warrior into the fold. The Norwegian was wicked smart with an equal dose of lethal. Happiness sank deep, lightening his mood. Fantastic. The male was more than he had hoped, and everything he needed to continue his work.
As Ivar finished the rundown, Hamersveld shoved Fen aside and pushed to his feet. With a stretch, he worked out the kinks and plugged him with a thoughtful look. “Why work out of the lab? Why not release a virus directly into a human population? See how it performs in the wild?”
“I haven’t perfected the viral delivery system yet.” His brows furrowed, Ivar abandoned his seat and paced to the far end of the room. Skirting the bar and a wall of flat screen TVs, he pivoted and strode back toward the bed. “I need to be certain it’ll take before—”
“What if I can guarantee it’ll take?”
“How?”
“You provide the superbug,” Hamersveld said. “I’ll introduce the virus into the water supply. Any human who drinks it will become infected.”
Hitting the pause button on the pacing, Ivar stopped in the center of the room. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Jesus. That was brilliant.
“But we test it first.” Magic whispered on the air as Hamersveld conjured a map of Washington State. Folded into pamphlet size, he tossed it to Ivar. “Pick a small town. Some place rural with a water treatment plant.”
“Then we sit back and watch how it spreads.” Excitement spiked, hitting Ivar with a shot of adrenaline. “Record and process the data. Make adjustments as needed.”
A nasty gleam in his eyes, Hamersveld grinned.
Ivar returned the smile and unfolded the map. Fucking hell, he couldn’t wait to get started.
19
The frosting smelled like fresh strawberries.
Seated on a stool at the kitchen island, J. J. smiled as she scooped more pink icing out of the bowl. Who would’ve guessed she’d enjoy baking so much? Not her, that was for sure. A little over an hour ago, she’d scoffed at the idea. Now she couldn’t wait to tackle the next cupcake. For some reason, the simple task relaxed her.