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were the curse in that match.”
    â€œNo!” Cadmus cried. “It was not my fault!”
    Drake struck his old commander again, slicing at that old hide as the blood flowed. He was massive and filled with hatred, unwilling to surrender his grasp upon life, but Drake was determined.
    â€œNo!” Cadmus murmured, dropping his voice to a murmur of old-speak. “ Join me. Be my successor. Take what is rightfully yours… ”
    Drake had no taste for his spell. He ripped the throat of his foe, then kicked his broken carcass aside. Cadmus’ body cycled between forms, switching from ancient man to old dragon, with increasing speed. Drake watched in horror, even as he caught his breath.
    Then Cadmus finally was still.
    â€œIt is not the right of any man or Pyr to take what is not his own,” he declared, then spat upon the commander he had once respected beyond all others. He felt sick.
    But at the same time, he felt lighter. He was more optimistic. He knew that there was a place for himself and his men in this world.
    He understood that the light of the firestorm could keep a Pyr from turning to the darkness, that Harmonia could have brought Cadmus the balance he had needed.
    If only Cadmus had accepted the truth of her kiss.
    Drake was prepared to take the lesson.
    Veronica, with her clear blue eyes, had given that gift to her husband. Perhaps it was her love that had armored him against the viper’s vile spell. With her spirit, she had pulled Drake back from the darkness, had saved him from succumbing to that old spell. Drake would never forget her gift.
    Drake took no souvenirs of this place, no tokens of battle, no proof of what he had done. He had the only momento he needed.
    The one that was for Veronica.

V
    Ronnie Maitland was packing her bags.
    She didn’t know what had been in her head when she’d decided to bring Timmy to the Middle East. She didn’t know how she could have imagined that she could learn the truth about Mark’s death when there was no official record, when the government and the military wouldn’t tell her anything. She knew Mark had been involved in covert operations and she knew the risk. He had warned her that it might end this way.
    It had been so much easier to be strong when Mark had e-mailed her regularly.
    But it had been seven and a half weeks, and she had known that it was more than a mission taking longer than it should have done. She knew the truth in her heart, and she had been angry that no one would tell her what had happened.
    Timmy deserved the truth.
    She deserved the truth.
    But she’d been foolish to come here, to leave her family and all that was familiar on a quest that she saw now was doomed to failure. She’d been stupid to trust Drake, too, without having any idea who he was or what his affiliation might be.
    She’d waited a week for Drake to bring her the story she already guessed, but there was no sign of him. Why had she trusted him? No one at the embassy knew him—or if they did, they weren’t admitting it. She shouldn’t have been so gullible.
    She shouldn’t cry, even though everything was going wrong.
    There was something about Drake, though, something about his impassivity or maybe his confidence. Drake had a sense of authority, a resolve about him that made Ronnie believe him. He was like a rock. He was the kind of man who had seen a lot, who understood more than anyone should, yet had not lost his soul.
    He could probably kill a man with his bare hands, yet she’d trust him with her son.
    Maybe that was proof that she was losing it.
    Drake had been right about one thing—Ronnie should go home. This was no place for her or for Timmy. She packed quickly and recklessly, knowing that she had to return to routine.
    She’d have to wait for news. She’d go home and she’d try to meet more women on the base, even though she’d always stunk at making quick connections with