Blazed by Amber Kallyn Page B

letting go of Scott, he drew back his other arm and let his fist fly. “Ha! Didn’t see that coming, did you?” Ty crowed as blood flowed from Scott’s nose.
    Tight claws scratched at his arm as Calla dragged Ty away from Scott. “I should bite both of you,” she mumbled, pushing Ty back down onto the row of boxes he’d woken up on. “Now, you touch my husband again and I’ll do you some damage.”
    Scott headed over, a handkerchief clutched at his nose, and sat by Ty. “Darling, you do know by now that I can take care of myself, right?”
    “That’s not the point,” she grouched.
    “Your brother has every right to his anger. I said I’d protect the girl. I failed.”
    Calla snorted.
    Anger growing once more, Ty gripped his clenched fists close to his thighs. “Tell me.”
    “There were many. At first, just a few, but as if from thin air, more appeared and began attacking the band. Bree refused to stay back. I couldn’t either. Both of us raced for the band to help them out. I was overwhelmed and by the time I fought free, both Bree and one of the young singers, Kari, were gone. No one saw them go. Right after their disappearance, the master’s minions all faded away.”
    Ty clenched his fists so hard his nails sliced through skin. He stared at the welling blood, relishing the pain. “And everyone else?” Ty asked.
    “They’re safe,” Calla whispered.
    Ty shuffled from the room, his steps growing stronger. His power slowly coming back. He headed down the hall to the back door, Calla dogging his steps.
    “You can’t do this alone. The master is too powerful.”
    Ty didn’t say a word as he slammed through the door and into the chilly, quiet night.
    “Ty!” she shouted.
    He raced into the darkness, letting his magic flow around and through him. As he ran, he shifted, from a small human form to his immense, white scaled, silver horned dragon. He bellowed into the night, shouting at the stars. Bree. He had to find her.
    If he’d felt her before, he could do it again.
    Flying high above the sprawling city, lights twinkling over the land, Ty didn’t search with his eyes. He tried to feel with his very soul.
    * * *
    Bree moaned as the throbbing in her head woke her. She tried opening her eyes, but something sticky held the right one closed. With only one eye working, she glanced around the room. She lay on an old, brown couch, her hands cuffed in front of her.
    The silver was interlaid with small black stones.
    Bree called to her inner fire. As she’d feared, nothing happened. She’d been shackled with magical nulls.
    The place was a warehouse of some sort, boxes and crates piled high. To her left was a narrow door. She slid off the lumpy couch and stumbled to the door, finding a bathroom.
    Bree flinched at her reflection in the mirror. Dried blood caked down her temple and cheek. Her right eye was puffy, purples and blues, overlaid in red.
    Turning on the sink, she waited for the water to warm, then washed her face with her hampered hands. Soon, she was clean, and able to open both eyes.
    There were no paper towels, and she wasn’t about to touch the scroungy hand towel, so she dripped her way back into the warehouse.
    The crates opened in two places. Both led into a maze. Heavy footsteps and the rattling of chains came her way. Without her fire, and barely able to use her hands, she wasn’t in much position to defend herself.
    It didn’t mean she wouldn’t try.
    Crouching near the couch, Bree watched the openings, waiting.
    A shadow moved into the room, not from the openings but as if materializing from the center of the crates themselves. A black robed, hooded figure walked straight toward her, as if he knew exactly where she hid.
    The oily, oppressing bite in the air she’d felt when she faced this man onstage during the first fire came back. Goosebumps cropped up along her arms and tremors slid icily down her spine.
    “How are you, m’dear?” His voice was dark, rough.
    Bree