Talon the Black (Dragonwall Series # 1)

Chapter 5: A Familiar Face

Battle Ground, Indiana

Cyrus jerked awake and blinked up at the ceiling. Everything came flooding back in an instant. His trip to the forest, his fight with Kane, the Vodar, the Gate, Claire. All of it. The faint sound of raised voices drifted to him. He froze, listening. Just voices—nothing more. Certainly not the Vodar. He exhaled and relaxed his muscles.

He pushed his hearing just a little farther, but it wasn't enough to hear what was said. He could have used magic, said words of power to further sharpen his hearing, but it would kill him. No magic, not the smallest trace, could be spared from the effort that was keeping him alive.

He stood, gritting his teeth. It felt like a hot knife twisted within him. His pain was growing unbearable. Taking a step from the bed, he let out an uncontrolled gasp, wincing. It took a good deal of control to keep from crying out again.

He dared not look at the wound. He need not see the poison spreading, for he felt it within him. The oily substance, which had started as a small stream, was quickly turning into a roaring river. When it cut its way through his lifeblood and into his mind, he would die. His magic slowed its advance, but not for long.

He padded barefoot through the girl's dwelling, stopping before the exterior door to listen. Two voices carried, Claire's and another. A male. They argued. He listened a moment longer. Claire was upset.

"...screw you and your excuses, Jake. You said we would make things work between us. You promised me!"

"I tried, Claire. I swear I did. You can't blame me for being lonely."

"Bullshit! I'm the one who wanted to break things off when I visited during spring break, but you swore, you son of a bitch, you swore, we would make it work."

"Claire Bear, I hate for you to be mad at—"

"No! You don't get to call me that. And I'm not mad, I'm furious."

Cyrus clenched his jaw. He shouldn't have, but he did it anyway—he strolled out onto the porch. Something—he couldn't say what—made him oddly protective of her. He walked up beside her. If she was surprised to see him, she gave no sign. "My lady? Are you all right?" He kept his voice low, paying her a sidelong glance. There were red splotches on her cheeks.

Her face relaxed some. "I—I'm fine."

"Who the fuck is this?" Jake looked between them, appraising him.

He sighed, burying his pain deep. With an overly calm voice he said, "My identity is not your concern. You are upsetting Claire. It is time for you to leave."

"Leave?" Jake huffed. "Who d'you think you are, tellin' me what to do? It's a free country, far as I'm concerned. This ain't your house." Jake took several steps towards him.

He did the same until they stood face to face. This time he spoke through clenched teeth, "I will not ask you again. Leave this place at once." His gaze remained fixed on Jake's, looking for any sign of movement within his dull eyes, movement that he would quickly anticipate.

In his line of work, he dealt with his fair share of males like Jake—criminals mostly. They were always the same, get them worked up and they would strike. This one was a steaming kettle.

They eyed each other for several long seconds until Jake tried to bypass him. "Claire, tell this bastard to back the fuck off before he gets himself in trouble." Jake puffed himself up as he spoke. "This is between you and me, not some—"

"Some what?"

"Nosy fucking bastard, that's what." Jake spat a brown substance on the wooden beams beneath his feet.