Stepping away from the door, he motioned Caitlin toward the sofa. “Would you like something to drink?”
She shook her head as she settled into a corner of the couch.
Instead of taking a seat himself, he perched on the arm of the chair across the room from her. “Why don’t you start at the beginning.”
“The day before yesterday, something broke into my room while I was napping.”
“Something?”
“Yeah—something.” She shrugged. “At first I thought it might be you, until the icy evilness of it washed over me, taking away my breath.”
As far as he knew, that type of evilness could belong to only one being. A sickening feeling in the pit of Sean’s stomach formed, growing with each passing word of her explanation.
“It was as if it knew I’d realized the thing’s vile intent, because it conjured a spell that threw me against a wall and pinned me there until it exited with our son in tow.”
“Can you describe it?”
“At first it was wispy with no real identifiable form.”
That explained why she’d thought it might be him. His dragon form was little more than smoke unless he—or the Dragon Lord—willed it into something more solid.
“And when it started to take shape, it was like a beast from a nightmare.” Her lip quivered, but she quickly turned her head away as she continued, “A monster has our son.”
Sean’s beast growled with rage. Not with a vague undirected anger like it had upon first seeing Caitlin, but with murderous intent toward the wizard who had taken its offspring.
“You’d said it spoke to you and demanded ransom?”
She nodded, but didn’t answer.
Sean rose and crossed the room to kneel before her. He stroked her cheek, coaxing her to look at him. “What, Caitlin? Tell me, what does it want?”
“The book, the box, the emerald and sapphire pendants.” She stared at him. “And for you to complete your task.”
Sean jerked back as if he’d been burned. While the items demanded as ransom told him that his suspicion had been correct—Nathan the Learned had his son—it gave him no clue as to what task he was supposed to complete.
Caitlin edged around him and stood up. With her hands pressing into her stomach, she moved across the room—away from him. Staring out the open balcony doors, she asked, “How are you involved with this...this thing?”
“I’m not.” Even though as far as he knew he wasn’t working with any malevolent being—at least not of his own free will—his answer felt...off...not quite right somehow. It felt as if his subconscious was vaguely aware of something that hadn’t yet fully registered in his brain yet.
“Then why did it place so much importance on this task of yours?” She leaned against the doorjamb. “It laughed when it repeated itself more than once.”
“It has a name—Nathan—”
“No!” She spun around with a cry before he could complete his sentence. “Not Nathan the Learned?”
Tightening his grasp on the arm of the sofa, he frowned. What did a succubus know about a Druid wizard? He straightened and turned to face her. “How do you know about Nathan?”
“My father is a vampire.”
He rubbed his neck. “I already gathered that much.”
“He’s been around long enough to have run into the Learned a time or two. Besides, my father has a seat on the High Council of our kind, so there isn’t much he doesn’t know, or hasn’t heard.” She shrugged again. “And what he doesn’t know, my mother can usually find out.”
He almost didn’t want to ask. “And your mother is a...what?”
“Dead.”
Sean resisted the urge to vanish. A few years ago he would have walked out of the apartment at such a senseless answer. But he’d seen and learned so many things the last two years that he was fairly certain this wouldn’t be anything new. “Dead as in a zombie?”
Her eyes widened. “Gross. No. Dead as in physically deceased.”
“Ah.” Feeling foolish, he offered condolences. “I am sorry for your loss.”
“No need. She’s still here.”
Maybe he hadn’t learned everything just yet. “What?”
Caitlin rolled her eyes. “She refuses to move on without my father, so her spirit is still here.”
“That raises more questions than I want to get into right now. But I don’t suppose your mother can find out where...” He paused, realizing that he didn’t know the child’s name.
“Sean.”
“What?”
“Sean. His given name is Sean Alexander Drake II.”
Just. Simply. Wonderful. Since there was no way for her to know that what she’d done in naming the boy went against centuries of Drake tradition.
“Is there a reason you made it so easy for him to be found by any dragon slayer out there?”
She shrugged. “Since I’m the slayer, it actually didn’t cross my mind. Besides, his name had nothing to do with you or what you are.”
“Right.” He didn’t buy that for a minute. “Then why make it so obvious he’s my son?”
“Because it was the easiest way to piss off my parents.”
“And I’m sure you succeeded.”
“Completely.”
Why she’d want to enrage her family in such a manner was a question left for another time. “I don’t suppose your mother can find out where Junior is being held?”
She cringed visibly at his use of Junior. “Sean—his name is Sean.”
“Can she find out where Sean is being held?”
“She already has. He’s in a castle ruins on the east coast of Ireland.”
Sean found it interesting that the wizard had holed up about as close to Mirabilus Isle as he could without being easily detected. His family had taken the larger jet, but Braeden’s personal one was still in the hangar at the airport. He pulled out his cell phone and directed Harold to have the jet fueled and ready to go as quickly as possible then tapped it off without explaining why. He and Caitlin needed to get to Mirabilus, and she had no means of otherworldly transportation.
Turning his attention back to Caitlin, he asked, “Does your mother know if he’s harmed the baby?”
“Our son is fine—for now.”
That was a relief. Although there was no telling how long that might last. A flash of heat coursing down the back of his head, then down his spine, distracted him.
“He’ll be safe for a week.”
Sean frowned at the way she’d answered his question before he’d asked, and then he realized her intrusion had caused the flash of heat. “Stay out of my head, Caitlin.”
“I’m sorry. Since we’re physically so close, it’s just easier.”
“Easier isn’t always right.” Before, at the bar, she hadn’t complained about him delving into her mind, but he wondered how she would react to the same type of trespass now and reached out to brush her thoughts.
His touch seemed to crack the mental dam she’d been using to rein in her needs. At first a trickle of weak, nervous energy flowed