Dans les profondeurs du bayou, Tome 4 : Guerre imminente

Virginia City, Nevada was a curious mix of history and touristy kitsch that left me wondering what type of charun called this place home. The location was remote, the mountains in the distance a fascination that kept my eye traveling back to them, so different from my lowland birthplace. But the boardwalk lined with shops of every kind — candy, jerky, gemstones, T-shirts, jewelry — bustled with tourists exploring the Old West town under the watchful eyes of tour guides from dueling companies.

Squinting against the sun, pretending I wasn’t searching the sky for a certain dragon, I angled my chin toward Santiago. “Are you sure we’ll find what we’re looking for here?”

“One of our first missions on any terrene is to identify pockets of Conquest loyalists.” He glared at human tourists foolish enough to stumble into his path. “This is one of the larger charun communes in this state, and they’re all devoted to your glory.”

A shudder tripped down my spine, and he grinned even wider. “You’re an asshat,” I told him.

“These people worship you. The least you can do is stop scowling at them.”

“I’m not … ” Movement drew my eye to the second floor of a saloon, to the male who kissed his fingertips then pressed them to his heart while bowing his head. “They’re watching.” Now that I knew to look, I examined each upper window lining the boardwalk. More faces looked back. More fingers were kissed. More heads bowed in reverence, making my skin crawl. “They’re everywhere.”

“Told you.” He sounded smug about it. “We’ll meet up with them tonight, after the tourists have been bussed back to their hotels in Reno.” He laughed under his breath. “Until then, smile and wave.”

Campaigning for soldiers in our upcoming war made me queasy. Who was I to ask these people to follow me? To fight for me? Die for me? Because that’s what war was — death. Only the number of casualties had yet to be tallied.

The air kicked up, and dust swirled around me. When I paused, the thick coils of an invisible dragon tail wrapped my ankle.

“Cole,” I breathed. “You’re late.”

Warm breath fanned my face, and soft scales glided against my skin as he rubbed our cheeks together.

“Break it up,” Santiago groused. “I didn’t come here to watch you two make out.”

“You can’t see him,” I pointed out, scratching Cole under his chin.

“Maybe not, but I can smell him.” Santiago wrinkled his nose. “He’s pheromone central lately, thanks to you.”