Memoirs of a Dragon Hunter Read online

  “That’s fine with me.” She kicked her legs a little. “I’ve never been picked up like this before. I have to admit, it’s kind of fun. Is it hard on your back? Do you have to lift weights in order to haul women around like this?”

  “Do you always ask so many questions?” he asked, setting her down in the relative darkness of the bedroom.

  “Yes. My therapist says that if you don’t ask questions, you’ll never find the truth. Do you ever answer the questions that people ask you?”

  “Sometimes,” he said, making sure the blinds were fully down.

  She sat on the end of the bed. “I take it now is not one of those times?”

  “I suspect it will be.” He sat next to her. “But before we get into a question-and-answer scenario, why don’t you tell me first about your experience being a dragon hunter. Adam Larson was well known to the dragon hunters, as was his daughter, but I had never heard him speak of you. I take it your father was also a dragon hunter? What was his name?”

  “I don’t think my dad’s name is going to help you,” she answered, giving him a quizzical look.

  “No? Why not?”

  “Because he wasn’t any more woo-woo than my mom was. She’s nuts, but she wasn’t…” She waggled a hand around. “Superheroish. Far from it, if I’m honest. My dad dumped us when I was about two years old so he could be with one of his students. He was an English professor. A bad one, according to my mother, but she has her own set of issues, so I try not to believe too much she says. Although when she’s going through a sober stint she can be unusually prescient. Wow. That was a lot of personal info you probably didn’t want to know. Sorry.”

  Ian frowned, one part of his mind distracted by Veronica’s nearness…and heat…and that vaguely floral scent that reminded him of carnations nodding lazily in a warm summer afternoon. “That makes no sense. You’re saying neither of your parents was a dragon hunter?”

  “That’s right.” She leaned back and gave him a pleasant smile, one he felt as a warm glow deep in his belly.

  He shook his head at both what she’d said and the belly-glow. “That is impossible. You can’t suddenly just become a dragon hunter. I believe full-blooded dragons can be created such by having a demon cursed to them, but that is very rare, and you are not a dragon.

  “Wait, what?” she interrupted, looking horrified. “You mean to say you’re a demon, too?”

  “Yes, but the dragon in us allows us to control it.” He gave a little shrug. “All dragon hunters have a dark side. Surely you must feel it trying to use you?”

  “No!” Her horror turned to speculation. “I wonder…you know, the animal in my head has been unusually quiet.”

  “The what?” It was his turn to look surprised.

  “That’s what I call my anxiety disorder.” She bit her lower lip and looked thoughtful. “If there’s a dragon and a demon in me, and the dragon is controlling the demon, maybe that’s helping to control the anxiety beast, too. Still, I don’t like the idea of being part of a demon. Can you take it out?”

  “I don’t believe so, no.”

  “Rats.” She looked down at herself, just as if she were expecting to see a manifestation of evil. “What does the demon bit feel like?”

  “Darkness,” he said succinctly. “An absence of soul. An emptiness wanting to compel you.”

  “I don’t feel that. In fact, I don’t feel anything demony inside me. I feel a bit…more…but I figured that was the superhero dragon part. I don’t feel empty or soulless. Maybe the demon part didn’t come with the dragon part for me?”

  He shook his head, more confused than ever. “It doesn’t work like that. By our very nature, we are both dragon and demon. There is no other way.”

  “There is if your sister gets mouthy on your arm,” she said, pulling up the sleeve of her shirt. “You can’t see anything now, but you’ll have to take my word that last night, this was super gory. Helen bit me. She said I had to take over for her helping a woman who was on the run from an abusive boyfriend or something, and I said I’d do it…”

  Ian felt like he’d been struck by a grand piano. He had never heard of a dragon hunter creating another hunter in such a manner. Adam Larson had not mentioned such a thing as being possible, but he was so deep in his research on eliminating the demon influence that perhaps he simply overlooked it. Still, if demon hunters could be made without invoking a demon lord…he considered whether that fact could help him in any way.

  He didn’t see how it could. Every demon knew there were only three ways to escape bondage to a demon lord: death, release by the demon lord (which had never happened in the knowledge of those who resided in Abaddon), and convincing a pure soul to take his place.

  Ian made a face at the last thought. He was all too familiar with it.

  Perhaps he could kill Anzo…He dismissed the thought the instant it crossed his mind. It would take a lot more than just him to destroy her, and all her minions would die with her.

  “…said I’d find her, but do you have any idea how difficult it is to find an abused woman who’s in hiding? It’s not like you can call up the nearest women’s shelter and ask if there is anyone there who fits the description. I don’t even know where to start, although my friend has an idea— Are you okay? You look like you’re having a painful gas bubble or something.”

  “Sorry?” With a start, Ian realized that Veronica had been telling him about her sister while he was mulling over the idea of making a dragon hunter to take over his burden. “No gas bubbles, painful or otherwise. When your sister bit you, how long did it take you to change?”

  Her nose scrunched up in an adorable manner. Once again, the nearness of her walloped him like a sledgehammer. One wrapped in lust and desire. “Maybe five minutes? It hurt like hell, and I barfed up my dinner, but after that, it seemed to be okay. Except I keep getting hot flashes, you know? One moment I’m perfectly normal, and the next I feel like I’m burning up from the inside.”

  If he could find a suitable mortal, find a pure soul to take his burden…but he couldn’t do that. A mortal being had no power against a demon lord. But an esprit did. They were goodness personified, pure and unable to be tainted through use. If he could convince an esprit…Once again, he dismissed the line of thought. He might be desperate to be out of Anzo’s control, but he had not yet sunk so low as to demand someone else save him.

  He pushed away the grimness of his future, and addressed himself to the promise he’d made to Veronica. “Very well, since you did as I asked with regards to the wrath demon, we shall have a lesson in what it is to be a dragon hunter.”

  “I should get two lessons for today,” Veronica said with raised eyebrows. “After all, I pretended to be your girlfriend twice.”

  He was amused, but kept his lips steady. “Two lessons, then, although we only have time for one. The first rule is that you must at all times carry your élan vital. I see you do not have yours now, which tells me your sister must not have informed you how important it is.”

  “Oh, she told me. It’s my soul sword.” Veronica made an awkward gesture. “I just don’t…you know…it’s a sword. It’s not easy carrying that around.”

  “Mortals cannot see it,” he explained.

  “I know, I know. Helen said as much. But even so, it’s kind of hard to get used to having it always hanging off you. It gets in the way.”

  “It can save your life where nothing else can. Besides, the esprit inside it gives you strength even if you aren’t using the sword itself.”

  “Es-PREE?”

  He spelled the word for her, noting, “That is the French pronunciation.”

  “Wait, the sword has not only a bit of my soul stuck to it, but there’s also a ghost in it?” She looked like she wanted to panic, but wasn’t quite ready to commit to that path.

  He pulled out his élan vital. The runes on it glittered with a soft silver light in the dim room. “All élan vital have esprits who willingly bind themselves to the weap
on. Without them, it would be simply a sword.”

  “So what’s an esprit when it’s at home?” she asked, reaching out to trace a finger the length of an intricate protection rune.

  Ian fought to keep from snatching the sword out of her reach. “Esprits are beings of purity and light. They devote themselves to helping those who need it—and a handful of them give themselves to dragon hunters. In general, though, esprits are few in number and are highly sought by those who would use them up without a second thought.”

  “What use are they other than living in your sword?”

  Ian gave a little shrug. “They are conduits of change. For a dragon hunter, they give us the strength to destroy demons, changing that dark power into light. For others, they convert mortal energies into those of other realms.”

  “That is way too metaphysical for me,” Veronica said, trailing her fingers down another rune.

  “I’m not too well versed in everything they do,” he admitted. “I tend to focus on the dragon hunter side of their abilities. And as a note of etiquette, never do that.”

  “I wouldn’t destroy anything, let alone pure light spirits,” she protested, her fingers drawing over the sight rune that gave him clarity of mind.

  “I was referring to touching another hunter’s élan vital. It’s considered an extension of the hunter, and is quite rude to touch it unless invited.”

  “Oh!” She snatched her hand back. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “That’s why I told you.” After a moment’s thought, he laid the sword across her thighs. “Since you are new to this, and since the esprit doesn’t seem to mind, you may examine it.”

  “That sounds almost risqué,” she said with a rusty little chuckle that delighted him. She turned the sword over, examining the runes and scrollwork etched into the blade itself. “Don’t most men think of swords as being an extension of their penises?”

  “I am not most men.”

  “No, you’re not,” she said, her gaze meeting his. A little spark lit in her eyes, making her blush and drop her gaze.

  An uncomfortably charged silence fell between them for the count of three, which Veronica broke by clearing her throat.

  “Your sword is very pretty. I like it,” she said, handing the élan vital back to him, then evidently realized that comment could easily be misconstrued given their discussion. “Your real one, that is, not your…er…” Her gaze dropped to his crotch, which, of course, immediately reacted just as if she’d stroked him.

  He heaved a mental sigh at his body’s insistence on being attracted to her. There were times when his libido was a pain in the arse. So to speak. “Yes, I understood you were referring to the actual sword.”

  “Not that your dick isn’t nice. I’m sure it is,” she said hurriedly. “Not sure as in I’ve seen it, but the rest of you is quite nice, so I can’t imagine that…uh…it would be anything but…oh, lordisa, I’ve really just lost control of this conversation. Mr. Manny is going to be bleeding all over this.”

  “Who or what is Mr. Manny, and why would he bleed on you?” Ian asked, welcoming the distraction from the conversation. He really needed to get a grip on his emotions. And needs. And desires, of which there were suddenly a whole list’s worth that concerned Veronica.

  “He’s my writing instructor. Bleeding refers to using a red pen to edit. Mr. Manny is very big on conversations not wandering away when they should be making a point.”

  He stared at her in disbelief for a few seconds. “Are you planning on writing our conversations down in the novel you’re writing?”

  “Sure. Why wouldn’t I? They’re just made for a book, don’t you think?”

  “I don’t think anything of the sort.”

  She gave his leg a little slap. “That’s because you don’t think like a writer. This whole thing with dragon hunters is perfect for me. There are bad guys, and dragon superheroes, and invisible swords, and daring missions, which I have no idea how to complete, and all sorts of really juicy bits that Mr. Manny will positively slobber over.”

  He was shaking his head even before she finished speaking. “You can’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  The sound of the doorknob clicking just as the door opened killed the answer. Simultaneously, they grabbed each other, both sharing the obvious concern that the wrath demon had returned, which resulted in clunking their heads together painfully, which Ian ignored in order to flip Veronica on her back, his body covering hers while he kissed her cheeks and neck.

  She gave very convincing moans of pleasure, her hands busy sliding underneath his shirt in order to stroke his back. The feel of her fingernails gently tracing patterns on his back triggered the dragon within him, his fire roaring to life, and the simple sexual interest from before now a raging need to possess. He knew it was madness to touch her, to kiss her silky flesh, but it would have taken a stronger man than he to resist the lure of her mouth when she turned her head to chase his lips. And when her tongue twined around his in an erotic dance, the molten fire that never seemed to die within him rose to the fore.

  “—didn’t want to watch it when it was halfway through, because you really need to see the start in order to see where the movie is going, so I decided to come home— Oh.”

  Dimly, Ian’s mind registered the fact that someone was speaking, but for a moment, the bulk of his awareness was focused on Veronica. She was fire and desire; she was a temptress leading him joyously astray. Her body moved beneath his in a way that was meant to entice, not protest, and her hands and soft little moans urged him on when he knew he should stop.

  Her tongue just about drove him mad. He was just considering how fast he could get them both out of their clothing when the bed dipped next to him, and he looked up in confusion.

  “Who do you have under there— Oh, hi, Ronnie!” Sasha sat cross-legged, a cat in one hand and a guinea pig in the other. “Sorry to interrupt, but since you both still have your clothes on, I figured it was okay. Does this piggy look pregnant to you? I think she might be.”

  Memory of the wrath demon returned to him, and he rolled off of Veronica, one hand on his élan vital as he quickly scanned the room.

  There was no one there but the three of them.

  “Well, this is just plain awkward,” Veronica said, sitting up while pulling her shirt down from where it had ridden up. “Um. Hello, Sasha. Don’t you knock when you come into Ian’s room?”

  “Why should I?” the girl asked, tipping her head to the side.

  “Because he’s a grown man, and you’re just a…well, you look like you’re just a girl.”

  “Look like? Someone’s been telling tales about my age, I see,” Sasha said, casting an amused glance at Ian. He ignored it, mentally lecturing himself about what had just happened.

  “He wasn’t gossiping,” Veronica reassured her. “I thought you were his girlfriend, and he said you weren’t, and…well…that’s all.”

  “Aw, that’s sweet,” Sasha said, patting Veronica’s arm. “You checked before you jumped his bone.”

  “Bones,” Ian said with yet another mental sigh. “The term is ‘jumped his bones.’ Bone, singular, has a quite specific meaning, whereas the former is more generalized.”

  “Ah, sex, you mean? But Ian doesn’t have sex.” Sasha eyed Veronica. “Well, he hasn’t, not since I’ve been with him. I assume that’s going to change? It is, isn’t it? I can see by the way both of your eyes are all flamey that it is. Okay, I’ll knock from here on out. Did you guys want to have sex now? Or can I tell you about the two demons I saw on the way back from the movie theater?”

  “Unless there is something special about them that I need to know, don’t bother,” Ian said, moving away from the bed and the temptation that Veronica posed. Really, what had he been doing, giving in to those demands when anyone could have walked into his bedroom? There was no faster way to die than to forget basic precautions. “The wrath demon and Anzo both made it clear there are others in
the area.”

  “We aren’t having sex, so you don’t have to leave on my account,” Veronica said. “I’m just pretending to be Ian’s girlfriend in exchange for him teaching me. So, was that the end of the lesson, or is there more?”

  “Oooh, are we having sex lessons?” Sasha dumped the cat and guinea pig on the bed and pulled out of a pocket a small notebook and pen. “Mind if I take notes? I haven’t seen mortal sex, and I want to make sure I do it right when the time comes for me to jump bones.”

  “We weren’t having those sorts of lessons. Ian’s teaching me how to be a dragon hunter,” Veronica told her, adding, with obvious pride, “He let me touch his sword.”

  Ian sighed for what surely had to be the fifteenth time that day. He had many regrets in his life, but he was starting to feel that agreeing to Veronica’s terms was going to be the biggest of them all.

  Who’ll Stop the Rain. Wait, That’s a Song Title. Can I Use Song Titles for Chapter Headers? Ask Mr. Manny How He Feels About That.

  I HURRIED UPSTAIRS FROM IAN’S APARTMENT, MY MIND full of things I was to remember from our impromptu lesson. “Keep your shoulders down and elbows fluid. Don’t be afraid to wait for a good opportunity. Haste makes waste…wait, that’s what Grandma used to say.” I paused outside my door and made a few parrying motions that Ian had shown me. “If I can’t kill the demon outright, at least disable him so he has to return to Hell to regenerate a new body. Except the name of Hell isn’t hell, but I can’t remember now what it is. Whew. I just don’t know if I can actually attack someone with a sword—”

  I unlocked my door as I was speaking and stepped into my apartment, flipping on the light, and automatically tossed my keys to a ceramic bowl shaped like a goldfish, then froze, horror creeping along my skin.

  My apartment, my beloved, bright, cheerful apartment, looked like a bag of Skittles had thrown up all over it. The kitchen table was overturned and broken, chairs were smashed and flung willy-nilly around the room. My couch, a lovely tangerine beast with lime cushions, bore long slash marks from back to seat, bits of cushion torn from its innards and strewn about. Across the horror of my tiny living room, I could see my set of Fiestaware dishes smashed on the kitchen floor, bright blobs of red and yellow and turquoise lying forlornly among the debris from overturned trash bin.