“And that’s where we get the name,” Steven said, shooting her a wink. Then he got down to business. “Liam, tell us what you might know about the lost volumes of my father’s complete spell book. We think it might give us an edge against Mulk. And tell us about this ancient dragon you know. It seems he’s involved in this some way.”

  “May I see the book?” Liam asked, extending one hand.

  Steven hesitated for a moment, but then nodded and handed the Ronin the grimoire.

  Liam touched the book reverently, tracing his fingers over the leather binding and the runes set into the cover. “I can’t believe I’m holding Stefan’s grimoire. In life, he wouldn’t even let me see it. But here I sit, touching it.” He fell silent. They were quiet as he read. The fire popped and flooded the field around them with light. The house windows twinkled. The stars sparkled.

  Finally, the Ronin spoke. “So, there is a missing passage here.” He tapped the section with a slim finger. “I’m wondering why.”

  Steven sighed. “I tried using the topaz pen to write it in. It was the key, literally, that helped us to write the grimoire in the first place.”

  “Can I see it?” Liam asked.

  Steven showed him where the pen was tucked in a sheath of leather in the spine of the ancient tome.

  “Maybe it’s like moon letters,” Tessa said. “You know, like from The Hobbit.”

  Mouse grumbled. “First Harry Potter, and now hobbits. Y’all are such dorks.”

  “Queen of the dorks,” Tessa said proudly. She might deny it, but she couldn’t help but like Mouse’s return to sarcasm. Having her be so quiet and passive made Tessa a little nervous.

  Liam pulled the pen out, and it immediately ignited in a flash of rainbow colors. The glowing topaz pen settled down onto the page, scrawling furiously. Tessa and Steven, the group’s Magicians, crowded around him.

  The words on the page glowed in the same rainbow colors.

  Tessa watched in wonder. They’d been destined to find the Yellow Ronin, it seemed.

  The pen had responded to his touch. Steven sat, smiling.

  She read the scrawl:

  The friends of old

  The comrades of new

  Two lost pages of ancient lore

  Forgotten in the fires to be read no more

  One to be found in a mind lost to time

  One to be found in a heart without rhyme

  “What does it say?” Aria asked.

  Tessa read the words out loud.

  Mouse didn’t just sigh but rolled her eyes. “Of course it just had to be a fucking cryptic poem. And of course it had to rhyme. Isn’t this some Hogwarts shit right there.”

  Liam stood and dropped the grimoire onto his chair. “It was me. I touched the pen. It wrote the words. Stefan wanted you to find me. This is … After what I did to you … after all that happened ...” He paced back and forth in front of the fire and restlessly thrust a hand through his hair.

  Tessa could feel his torment, but it wasn’t just about his past sins. No, something else was bothering Liam, and it was tearing him apart.

  “Liam, what’s wrong? You know what it means, don’t you?” Tessa asked.

  “Mathaal. Yes, I know, Tessa. I know. A mind lost to time. He somehow hid the spell book with Mathaal.”

  “Old Matchstick,” Steven whispered. “That’s Mathaal. That’s the ancient Dragonsoul you talked about earlier. He’s the one who might’ve cast the spell to stop you from seeing the truth about my father’s murder.”

  “Why does he scare you, Liam?” Tessa asked. Though maybe she could understand. Just that name, Mathaal, put fear in her heart. She didn’t know why.

  Liam turned toward them. His face was a mask of terror.

  “No, couldn’t be,” Mouse said. “Mathaal is just a myth. He can’t be real. All of the old Dragonsouls are long dead.”

  “Not him.” Liam’s tone was deadly serious. “He’s very much alive, though I suppose he’d be better off dead. This world would be better with him gone. His name was Mathaal when he ruled a Primacy that covered most of this continent, and that was before it was colonized by the Europeans. But then he started to fail, and his power faded, and he became Old Matchstick. A legend. A curse. Perhaps a warning for all who would live too long.”

  “We need to find him,” Steven said. “Do you know where he is?”

  “I do.” Liam gulped. He turned to gaze into the fire. “I can help you find him. But I can’t go with you. No, I can’t. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” Steven said. “We can handle him.”

  “It’s not okay,” Liam said in a choked voice. “And no, you can’t handle him because Old Matchstick can’t even handle himself.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  They talked late into the night, and Liam told him everything he knew about Mathaal, otherwise known as Old Matchstick. He didn’t know much. And what he did know wasn’t good.

  Steven listened carefully, trying to ignore the bad feeling steadily growing in his belly.

  Old Matchstick was an ancient dragon. One who’d snapped. One who’d destroyed entire cities. The entire Dragonsoul community—Primes from every nation on Earth—had united to wipe the minds of humans. Their attempts to capture Old Matchstick had been frustrated by the ancient dragon’s knowledge of sorcery, especially portal magic, which was at the far end of the skill tree. It seemed he was part genocidal serial killer and part Alzheimer patient. He’d disappeared, but there were rumors that the more powerful Dragonsoul Primes knew where he was and kept him guarded.

  Liam was among the number that knew of Mathaal’s location, though he seemed to regret that knowledge dearly.

  Steven tried to convince Liam to join them, but the Ronin couldn’t be persuaded. “I’ve lived three hundred years. I know I shouldn’t fear death, but I do. And Mathaal? He is death. And he’s too mad to know better. He’s like a force of nature now—a being of utter destruction and chaos that cannot be reasoned with. Besides, I will have to work the portal magic to bring you back. I don’t dare leave a gate open, not in these uncertain times. And while I might be able to open a gate on the other side of the globe, I might not. Here, in the seat of my power, I am more comfortable. I believe you would call it a home-field advantage.”

  When the talking and planning for the following day was finished, his crew went to bed, but not before Steven made love to Aria, restoring their spent Animus. The next day, they would need every bit of the mystical energy they could gather.

  In the morning, Liam made them biscuits and gravy, insisting they need a calorie-rich meal before facing a threat they could not beat. A threat they would be lucky to survive.

  Steven was tired of people telling him he was doomed in every fight. Aria had doubted him, then Mouse, and fucking Rhaegen Mulk kept underestimating Steven’s skills and the might of his Escort. He’d won each time before, and he’d find a way to win again, no matter what mythical shithead was standing in his way.

  Liam led them out to the ruins of the fire, which he stoked to life, sending smoke skyward. Steven was looking forward to seeing an actual portal in action. Up until this point it had all been theory and stories. Not anymore.

  “Are you ready?” Liam asked. He was pale, sweating even though the day was overcast and cold. Spring on the Great Plains—spin the dial, you might get hot and you might get snow, you never knew. The heavens swirled, as if disturbed by what the Ronin was about to do. “This is a simple portal, the only ones I can do. There are other spells that can summon people or create static gates. That is beyond me, however.”

  Then he shouted, “Magica Porta!”

  “This is fucking awesome,” Tessa whispered, nearly quivering in raw anticipation and excitement. She’d imbued another dozen bullets with dragon-slaying magic. They were tucked away in her holsters. Every loop on her belt was filled with normal shells.

  Mouse had the Slayer Blade on her back in a long leather sheath.

  Aria didn’t need weapons. She was deadly all on her own.

  Steven curled his hands into fists, ready to swing on anything that might come through the portal. Except ...

  Nothing happened.

  Liam sighed. “This magic is always so difficult. Let me try again. Magica Porta!”

  He thrust his hands forward, eyes slightly out of focus as he breathed rhythmically. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. Slow and steady. The smoke from the fire spun around, a tornado of heat and ash. At first, the opening of the gate was only about a foot across. The scent of saltwater burst through. Steven saw night and an ocean in the smoke. The opening widened, a round circle two feet across, then three, then four. The smoke whipped around the portal, creating a crude frame.

  Liam gritted his teeth, eyes now closed. Sweat dripped down his face. “Hurry. And remember what I told you to do. You will have two hours. I’ll open the gate again. But hurry. Dammit, hurry. It kills me to be sending you to your death.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence, dickweed,” Mouse spat. She strutted forward like a total badass without a single care in the world and stepped through the gate. Steven was next. Then Tessa and Aria.

  Steven walked down onto rocks jumbled together—just a clump of rocks entirely surrounded by ocean. Where the hell were they, and more importantly, where in the hell were they supposed to go? A sliver of doubt and worry wriggled in his stomach, but he immediately pushed his fear away. Now wasn’t the time for doubt or questions. Now was the time to own his legacy and prove those who doubted him wrong once again.

  The gate vanished behind them, closing with an audible whoosh of displaced air.

  The four stood on the rocks. The air was warm, humid, and filled with the odor of the ocean. Aria touched his arm. “There, Steven.”

  In the distance, maybe half a mile away, across a calm stretch of ocean, was an island. It was a flat except jungle of palm trees, a dark stain against the starry sky. The stars, they were different here. He’d gotten used to various constellations, growing up in Denver, but this night sky was alien to him.

  Tessa had her leather satchel slung over her shoulder. It held the grimoire and the topaz pen. She held her phone in her hand. “Hold on a minute, and I can tell you where we are. Not only do I have magic, but I also hold the power of GPS! Boom. Score one for science, bitches.”

  They waited for her phone to connect to the satellite.

  Mouse took out her own phone. “I’ll set a timer. We only have two hours, after all, and I don’t want to have to swim back to Nebraska.”

  “Good idea,” Steven said.

  Tessa frowned. “Do you guys know where the Maldives are?”

  “In the Indian Ocean.” Aria tied her long black hair back in a ponytail. “We are actually off the coast of my country. Mumbai is that way.” She pointed to the horizon, where the black ocean met the milky light of the stars.

  Tessa put away her phone. “Well, we could always make some cash selling tickets to anywhere in the world. That would make the airlines crazy.”

  “And piss off every Dragonsoul on Earth.” Steven gazed at the island in the distance. That was where they needed to go. It was the only piece of land close other than the stretch of stone where they stood.

  “I’ll take Tessa over there,” Mouse said in an annoyed voice. “Like always. You know humans. Wingless. What a literal drag.”

  “Don’t bother, sweetie,” Tessa said good-naturedly. “Magica Defensio!” Her pink shield appeared in front of her and she stepped onto it. Then she drifted out across the water.

  Steven grinned. He loved that barista turned Magician. He, Aria, and Mouse dropped their clothes. Mouse tossed the sheathed Slayer Blade up into the air and deftly slung it around her right dragon wrist when she took her True Form. Then they all flew off the rocks, heading toward the island. The jungle was dark, the trees obscured by a low-clinging ground fog. The white sands, however, reflected the light of the stars. There was no moon in sight—covered by a patch of drifting cloud cover.

  They touched down on the beach.

  Steven couldn’t believe he was on the other side of the globe. The very idea made him a little dizzy. He’d never left the United States. But there he was, on his first international trip, and without his passport to boot. Damn, but his life had completely changed.

  The island seemed to be uninhabited—at least by humans—which made a certain sense. If Old Matchstick was as crazy as Liam said, he’d have already eaten every person in a fifty-mile radius. But then, much to Steven’s surprise, a voice broke out from the fog cover. The words were rapid-fire and foreign, but Steven had watched enough anime to recognize the language as Japanese. It wasn’t a man’s voice, but that of a woman, and it sounded human enough.

  “English, please,” Mouse barked. “It is the international language.”

  “The linga franca,” Tessa murmured.

  “Nice,” Steven said. Again, the barista surprised him.

  The voice paused, then said in accented English, “This island is off-limits to you. Leave now or die.”

  “Yeah, we’re not much for the death thing,” Tessa quipped, slipping a Colt from its holster with the rasp of metal on leather. She’d shifted her shield so it appeared in front of them.

  “We’re only here to talk to Mathaal,” Steven said matter-of-factly. His tone said no nonsense would be tolerated—or at least that’s what he hoped his tone conveyed. “We don’t want any trouble. And we’re not leaving.”

  “Then die!”

  Green projectiles whirled out of the jungle. They hit Tessa’s shields in flashes of green mixed with pink. They plunked into the sand.

  Steven bent and picked one up. They were Japanese throwing stars, a lot of them, at least several dozen. Had they all been flung by the same hand?

  After the initial attack, there was silence. The water lapped lazily at the sand behind them.

  “Well?” Steven said. “Maybe Tessa’s shield scared them away.”

  “Yeah,” she agreed. “Because I’m so awesome.”

  “Time is ticking away, people,” Mouse said. “Let’s get this show on the road.” She transformed into her Homo Draconis form so she’d fit through the trees.

  “Hold up. Aria and I will run recon. We need to know what we’re up against and now big this island is.” Steven took a running step and launched himself into the air. He smashed into an invisible barrier over the tops of the palm trees. The whole island seemed to shake. Or was that him? Hard to tell. He’d hit it hard. He tumbled down into the sands.

  Another projectile, this one long and slender, shot from the darkness of the tree cover. It struck his arm, stabbing through his scale. It was an arrow. First throwing stars, and now an arrow? What the hell?

  More green shafts came flashing out. He was about to know how a pincushion felt when grandma got pissed when she sewed. It was Aria that saved him. She’d avoided the shield but then came storming from the sky to breathe fire onto the incoming attack.

  The arrows turned to ash. Trees smoldered. Aria didn’t stop. The entire beach and the jungle blazed with a blinding light from her dragon fire.

  Dozens of shapes moved, all human, all dressed in black. One word sliced through Steven’s brain. Ninjas.

  He had to take a second to really understand that. Was he really seeing ninjas? Black, tight-fitting gis. Hooded masks. Swords, some long, some short, some a tad straighter than others. Steven also saw some of the dark shapes with bows; on the chests of others shined throwing stars. But one figure caught his attention.

  She stood exposed in the firelight. Tall, slender, her hood was pulled back to reveal a face that was partially scaled. Half of her face to be precise. Long black hair flowed down across the beautiful human-half of her face. She wielded a kusarigama, a chain-sickle. A curved blade was attached to a chain that ended in a heavy weight. Originally, such weapons were used by medieval warriors to snare other soldiers. The warrior would entangle their foes in the chain, then hack them apart with the sickle. Her right hand gripping the sickle was human, but the claws gripping the chain was scaled.

  Then Steven noticed, in that instant before Aria stopped using her Inferno Exhalant, that others were also not quite human. A man with a bow had a long tail trailing out behind him. Another warrior took to the air on wings that sprouted from the back of his robes. Others had slitted snake eyes. What kind of creatures were these? They didn’t seem to be full Dragonsouls. Could they be Dragonskins, humans that went through a torturous ritual to gain some of the powers of full dragons? It seemed so.

  Then everything went dark. Which was home for ninjas, after all, however misshapen. Some of the undergrowth flickered with flames but it wasn’t enough to penetrate the stygian blackness of the jungle.

  Steven knew they were about to be overwhelmed. And dammit, they needed to conserve their Animus to face Old Matchstick. Blowing their wad on a bunch of half-dragons was a bad idea. On top of that, they didn’t have much time. The clock was ticking.

  There was something striking about the sickle-chain wielding woman. She just might be the key to getting them out of this mess.

  He didn’t bother with trying to breathe fire. Instead, he burned through a fraction of his Animus, triggering his DarkArmor and SerpentGrace abilities. That was to balance his armor and his speed. He anticipated the incoming attacks and lashed out with his tail. He felt a satisfying crunch and a burst of Animus, which covered his combat boosts. A sword chunked into the scales on his back. It didn’t even hurt. That would be the winged warrior, coming in from above.

  Tessa raced next to him and cried out, “Magica Defensio.” More Animus down the drain. But Tessa was smart. She poured the added magic into her existing shield, and a glowing pink rectangle appeared in front of her. Arrows clacked against the force field and fell harmlessly to the ground.

  The double dose of Animus to the shield was giving them a rose-colored light to see by.

  Mouse deftly tossed her sword into the air but grabbed it when she turned into her sleek Homo Draconis form. She waded into battle, but the blade was whipped out of her hand by the kusarigama chain.