We all just lay there, stunned, when the car stopped rolling. It was turned wheels up. My chest hurt where the seatbelt had abused it. Lynn was lying below me, unmoving, so I knew she’d felt the collision even worse. I looked over at Sloan, and she met my eyes calmly. Damn, I thought, yet again, but she was a good fighter to have at your back.

As though we had choreographed it, Sloan and I released our seat belts, dropping to the ground.

I dragged Lynn’s still form with me out of the burning car. Sloan rolled out of the shattered back window like she did it ever day, casually brushing off her dusty black clothes.

I looked around frantically, but saw no sign of the dragon, no sign of any of them. Lynn began to stir as I took off running, Sloan close on my heels. “What’s happening? I can’t see.”

I glanced down at her bloody eyes, and cursed. That’s when I felt them behind me. “They’re catching us, Lynn. We’re going to have to fight them.”

She was still dazed as I set her on her feet. “I can’t see anything.” Her voice was weak. She wouldn’t be much help in a fight in this shape.

“Don’t let them take you without a fight.” I turned, saw them, and cursed again. “There are seven of them.” I hesitated. “Three are Chinese. One of those is Drake. And one of the Scandinavian ones is in dragon form. He’s a pale blue dragon. I’ve no idea who it is.” I put a gun in her hands. She was badly wounded, and we were badly outnumbered. “Give em hell, sister,” I told her, cocking the weapon and pointing it.

The men were naturally fanned out as they approached us, as though they planned to flank us. The dragon stalked behind them, a slight distance back, it’s wings outstretched. It was colossal in size, far larger than Villi had been. But then again, I didn’t suppose this dragon had been beaten with a god’s lightning hammer before it shifted.

I shot Sloan a look. She was a silent presence beside and just behind me. “You should run.” I pointed toward the highway, out of sight now. “They might not chase you. It’s us they want.”

She just curled her lip. “Fuck that. I have never run from a fight. Dragon-kin don’t scare me.”

I sighed, selfishly relieved. She was such a reassuring presence at my back. And now it was almost certainly going to get her killed. But I knew better than to waste time arguing with someone as immovable as Sloan at a time like this.

I turned my attention back to the task at hand.

Seeing the Chinese there had surprised me enough that at first I didn’t see our brother, Sven, among the three viking draak. Of all the people they could have sent after us, he seemed the unlikeliest choice. He was flanked by two of our nastier cousins. Those two I had expected, but seeing Sven felt like yet another betrayal.

Sven was a strong telepath, the only dragon-kin that I knew of with that particular skill. He was not much older than I, born sometime between Lynn and I. Growing up, he’d always been a kind brother, a stark contrast to the treatment I received from the other men of the clan. He was the only one, besides my be-spelled mother, who I had regretted leaving behind. And he had even helped us escape, in his own way.

He had known our plans. I’d seen it in his eyes, the night we planned to leave. He had picked them cleanly from my mind. I had been trembling in terror that he would be our undoing as I gazed at him across the long trestle table where the family was sharing the nightly feast.

The feasting hall had been as loud and boisterous as always, with both laughter and casual violence. If one of the human serving girls committed the grave offense of dropping a tankard or tray, she was almost certainly raped and beaten. If the offended party was in a particularly foul mood, one of the always present axes or swords the men carried would thoughtlessly hack her to pieces. It would usually draw a round of laughter from the bloodthirsty men.

But Sven’s look at that dinner so long ago had been quiet and intense. It had confused me enough to abate my terror through that never-ending feast. When I’d been excused from the table, I had walked quickly from the hall. Sven had caught up to me as I left the hall. Silently, he had hugged me, and given me a soft kiss on the forehead. He was much taller than I at the time, though still not fully grown. He’d had to bend down far to whisper in my ear, “Be careful, little sister. Godspeed,” and walked away.

I had treasured that memory over the years. Whenever I had felt betrayed, as I had many times, I’d thought back to Sven and thought, See, there is someone out there who loves me and wishes me well. It had hovered in my consciousness like some kind of beacon of hope, when there was little. Now, it only made this latest betrayal all the more acute. This was the bitter pill of immortality. Living long enough to see every happy memory you’ve ever had turn to ashes.

He gave me a tentative smile when our eyes met. I glared back. “What are you doing here, brother?” I asked him bluntly.

He raised his hands, palm up, saying, “They thought I was the one most likely to get you to come with us peaceably. Any chance of that?”

“Any chance you’re all gonna turn around and leave us alone?”

He shook his head, that kind smile still on his face. “Afraid not, little sister. But we have no wish to harm you. And you have to see that fighting us at this point is futile.”

“Come a little closer and say that to me,” I told him, drawing the axe, and bringing it to front of my body in a defensive stance.

“You would raise a weapon against me, sister?” he asked sadly, his irises so pale, and his pupils so small, that his eyes looked almost completely white.