Memoirs of a Dragon Hunter Page 24

  “It’s my writing instructor,” I said loftily, wondering if a surprise attack with the demon sword would end in triumph or failure. I considered just throwing caution to the wind to find out, but a glance at the two little girls and Sasha bound to the chairs had me reeling in my suddenly brave-as-all-get-out anxiety monster.

  “She’s writing a book,” Sasha said. “Ian told me so. It’s all about her life, and how she became a dragon hunter and took over after I killed her sister, and how she fell in love with Ian, and won’t mind living with all his animals.”

  “They’re your animals,” Ian said at the same time I asked, “How do you know about Ian and me? And we really need to have a talk about my sister.”

  She grinned one of her adorable anime grins, full of dimples and mischief. She’d changed her clothes at some point, so now she was wearing black-and-white-striped stockings, a short hot pink tulle skirt that looked like she stole it from a ballerina, and a black hoodie. She rubbed her nose briefly and answered, “I know because we’ve waited so long.”

  The “for what” was on the tip of my tongue, but John reminded me this was not the moment to go into any of the mysteries surrounding Sasha.

  “Can we get back to me?” John demanded. “You two are in our way. We have a ceremony to finish, and the second sacrifice must be conducted before any more time slips by. You will both turn around and face the wall.”

  “John,” the gun-toting woman next to him said in a soft, breathy voice. She glanced nervously between Ian’s sword (held easily in his hand), my sword (which was pointed at John), and her compatriot. “Perhaps we should rethink the plan. One dragon hunter we might just be able to handle. But two of them—”

  “Three,” I interrupted, nodding over at Sasha. “She’s one, as well, although Ian took away her sword, but you probably don’t need to know that. Oh! Helen! Is that why Ian took away your sword, because you killed my sister?”

  One look at Ian’s face confirmed that, as well as the fact that I might be blathering too much. He shot me a look that probably would have dropped someone who didn’t have the blood of dragons and demons flowing through her veins. I blew him a little kiss.

  The three members of the church turned to look at Sasha, who waved at them.

  “It doesn’t matter how many of them there are,” John argued. “We are almost finished. Just one more sacrifice, and the dark earth master will be summoned.”

  I glanced back at Sasha, it having struck me that twice now I’d seen her hand. I mouthed, “Are your hands free?” to her, but she scrunched up her nose again and shook her head in incomprehension.

  “They can’t stop us now,” John continued. “We are too close. Dragon hunters or no dragon hunters, I will not have this ceremony fail. We have waited too long for sufficient sacrifices to summon the dark master, and we are almost there. This is a minor hiccup, nothing more.”

  “Are your hands free?” I mouthed silently to Sasha.

  She lifted her hands in obvious question, clearly not skilled in reading lips.

  I ground back an oath at myself for not seeing the obvious and mouthed, “Get the girls!”

  “What?” she mouthed back.

  “The girls! Get them free!” I added a couple of subtle gestures to the silent speech, and realized at that point that no one else was speaking and glanced toward John and the others.

  All three were watching me.

  “Oh, hi,” I said, and gestured toward them with the sword in as menacing a fashion as I knew how.

  John looked like he wanted to roll his eyes, but instead he addressed us both. “I don’t even know why you are butting in on our business. Dragon hunters are concerned solely with eliminating demons. You have nothing to do with our cause.”

  “We have been known to defend mortal beings who are threatened by anything of an Otherworld nature. That includes defying those who would sacrifice esprits to summon a god who I’ve been informed will rain destruction upon all,” Ian said in a manner that left me in full appreciation of his newly reborn dedication.

  He was protective, and selfless, and cared so much about those who were helpless…Could there be a more ideal man?

  “What happens is on your head, then,” John said with a shrug. “I know these bullets won’t kill you outright, but unloading the clips into your head will leave your brain as dead as a doornail, so don’t try anything funny.”

  “That’s prime coming from a man who two-timed his wife.”

  “Two-timed…” His eyes opened wide for a moment; then a martyred look crossed his face so profound it had me snickering to myself. “You didn’t bring Aspen here, did you? I thought you killed her! Why didn’t you kill her? You were supposed to kill her!”

  “We don’t kill innocents,” Ian said, moving to my side in what I felt was a show of solidarity. I told my now-brave animal that it needed to stop urging me into rash actions, and managed in the meantime to get a grip on my dragon fiery self. “Despite your wife being annoying as hell, she isn’t guilty of any crime other than bad judgment and a poor choice in men.”

  “Aren’t you clever,” John said with a disgusted look on his face, and then before I could blink, he lifted the gun and fired point-blank into Ian’s face.

  Glitter Sucks.

  Not Literally, Because Glitter the Little Girl Was Nice…Oh Hell, That’s Foreshadowing. Note to Self: Change This Chapter Title Before Mr. Manny Has Kittens Over It

  IAN HAD HIS SWORD UP TWO SECONDS AFTER JOHN started firing, but it wasn’t enough to stop the first few bullets. He staggered backward, and my heart seemed to stop beating while I braced myself for the inevitable sight of the man I loved covered in blood and gore, but to my utter surprise (and profound relief) there was no blood, nothing gooey and gross. It was as if the bullets completely missed him.

  “What the hell—” I started to say, preparing to tackle John.

  “Veronica, no!” Ian commanded, but not fast enough. When John turned to fire at me, Ian threw himself in front of me, but by then I’d realized something very odd—the bullets weren’t striking either of us.

  “Hey. We’re bulletproof,” I said, moving to the side of Ian. And that’s when I saw the blood cascading down his left arm. “Holy bucket and mop! Ian, sit down! No, don’t move. Here, let me use a bit of my shirt and I’ll tie up your owie till you can heal. WILL YOU STOP SHOOTING AT HIM!” The last was yelled at John, who continued to fire his gun at Ian and me. I managed to get my sleeve torn off of my shirt and bound it around Ian’s arm.

  “I will not! It’s my job to stop you, and stop you I will,” John said, and shot me a couple more times. Except the bullets didn’t touch me. They just seemed to dissolve in the air about three inches away from me.

  “Are you okay?” I asked Ian, whose face reflected pain, anger, and an oddly warming look of martyrdom.

  “Would you believe me if I said yes?” he asked.

  “I would, because I don’t think you’d lie to me, although you might well play down how much pain you’re in just because you don’t want me to worry.”

  “I would, would I? Why should I do that?” Amusement touched his eyes now, eyes that flashed sparks of fire.

  “Because you’re falling in love with me, and you don’t want me to suffer when you’re in pain.”

  He sighed. “We really must have a discussion later about appropriate times to explore personal relationships.”

  “I know,” I said, and kissed the tip of his nose. “We’ll do that after we save the girls and Sasha and take down this douchecanoe.”

  “Douchecanoe,” Sasha said from the sidelines, rolling the word around on her tongue. “I so love that phrase. Canoe of douches. I really need to use it more.”

  “Asshat is good, too,” Glitter said with a little nod. “I called someone an asshat the other day. It was very satisfying.”

  “I still have to visit Mrs. Nature,” Sparkle complained, squirming on her chair.

  “Hang in there, kiddo,” I tol
d her. “We have to deal with these guys first, okay?”

  She shot me a glare, but said nothing more.

  “What is wrong with this gun?” John scowled, looked at the gun, then looked back at Ian, and casually, as if he were experimenting with something unknown, shot him in the left arm again.

  Ian roared. Not yelled, not screamed, the man outright roared, and for a moment, I beheld the true nature of the dragon that resided within him. John Fuller’s two other companions must have seen what I did, for they froze for the count of four. Then both of them bolted, rushing past us and up the stairs without a single word.

  John didn’t have time to comment on his buddies bailing on him—Ian, moving so fast he was basically a blur, slammed the flat edge of his sword down on John’s head, sending the latter reeling backward.

  “Why are some of the bullets hitting you?” I asked, ripping off my other sleeve to bandage the second wound, located about four inches down his bicep from the first. “I don’t get it.”

  “Didn’t you tell her about the wand?” Sasha asked Sparkle.

  “Why would I do that?” the little girl asked, still squirming.

  “Because she has it in her back pocket.”

  “The wand?” I was distracted for a moment watching Ian spin the befuddled John around and whip out another pair of the zip ties to bind his hands. “Oh, nice going, Ian. I’m glad you had extras.”

  “This is ridiculous. I am going to see Mrs. Nature right now,” Sparkle said, and with a few wiggles, she managed to extricate herself from her bonds and slid off the chair, marching determinedly to the stairs. “Don’t lose my wand!”

  “I don’t…Oh, it’s in my back pocket.” I pulled it out, intending to give it back to the little girl.

  “Veronica,” Ian said, and nodded toward Sparkle.

  “Sure, so long as you’re okay,” I said, tucking the wand under my arm so that I could hurriedly bind his second wound.

  “I’m fine. Just don’t let the esprit out of your sight. Keep your sword handy and your wits sharp. We don’t know where the other two went.”

  “What’s going on down there?” Aspen asked a half minute later when Sparkle and I emerged from the stairwell. “Oh, you have one of them. Where’s the other? Did you destroy John?”

  I glanced around. Aspen was alone, leaning against the end of a pew. “Where’s Indigo?”

  “Oh, that.” Aspen pursed her lips, but before she could say more, the girl next to me made me jump.

  “I said I have to visit Mrs. Nature!” she bellowed. “Now!”

  “Scouring bubbles, that made me jump. Have you never heard of an inside voice?”

  She glared back at me.

  “Right,” I said, resigned to the inevitable, and asked Aspen, “I’m going to want full details on what happened to Indigo, but first, where’s the bathroom?”

  “It’s not nearly as exciting a story as you might think,” Aspen said, jerking her head toward the far end of the church. “Bathroom is through the vestry.” By the time we had found the bathroom, let Sparkle have her time in it, and returned to the main part of the church, the big room was empty.

  “Well, this is just maddening,” I told Sparkle. “It’s like some horrible mystery book where people keep disappearing the minute your back is turned.”

  “I like weeping angels,” Sparkle said apropos of who knew what, and held out her hand. “Can I have my wand?”

  “Sure.” I gave it to her, watching her wave it around for a few seconds. “I know you’re not going to want to go back downstairs to the scene of your kidnapping, but we—”

  She was halfway down the stairs before I realized she’d moved. I dashed after her, leaping over the stairs that still bore the banehook, and followed her down into the basement.

  The scene that met my eyes was bizarre, to say the least. In the middle of the room, the two people who had originally been next to John were laid out on the floor, unconscious, each of them with one arm outstretched to touch the fingers of the other. Just past their heads, an intricate drawing had been made on the floor, runes entwined in symbols that I knew from the electrical feeling in the air must be magical. Looming above it, Indigo stood, freed from the zip ties and looking extremely angry.

  Clearly, things had been happening while I’d been busy with Sparkle.

  “John, you self-righteous bastard, I swear I’ll mmmrfm—”

  John slapped duct tape over Aspen’s mouth before quickly winding cord around her, binding her to the chair where Sparkle had been sitting.

  “What in the name of Mr. Clean is going on here?” I demanded to know, stalking into the room, looking toward Ian.

  He stood protectively next to Sasha, his body hiding Glitter from John. His sword was in hand and glinting in the blue-white overhead lights. “You are not going to have them,” Ian said, ignoring me. His eyes almost glowed green, and palpable waves of fury rolled off him.

  “There she is,” Indigo said, turning her head to speak to John, who was now clad in a black velvet cloak, just as if he were a high school theater villain. He stood watching Ian for a moment, then skirted Indigo and returned to his magic circle. “I told you that he was lying. She’s too stupid to leave him and the other sacrifice. Dragon hunters are so blind that way, never realizing when it’s smarter to cut their losses and leave, always determined to do what they think is right, even when it means their own destruction.”

  “It’s okay,” Sasha said, smiling at us all. “No one is going to hurt the esprits. Not while Ian is he—”

  Indigo’s hands flashed while Sasha was speaking, the glint of metal catching the light before it embedded itself in Sasha’s throat. Sasha gurgled, grabbed at her neck, and then toppled over.

  “Ian!” I bellowed, and leaped forward, but before I was more than a few yards closer to them, Indigo used Ian’s horrified distraction with the dying Sasha to wrench his sword from his hand.

  He snarled something quite rude (but which was very fitting), and would have leaped on Indigo, but she backed up a few steps, turning so she held the sword in both hands, swinging it between Ian and me. When she spoke, though, she addressed him. “Don’t think of it, dragon. I’ve met your kind before, and I know just how weak you are without your precious élan vital. One move toward me, and your bit of fluff over there will suffer.”

  I was confused for a moment whom she was talking about, part of me wanting to run to help Sasha, the other wanting to feel the demon sword go to work on Indigo. I was horrified to see a dull blackness creep out from the wound on Sasha’s neck, her skin turning an ugly matte gray that reminded me of stone. Even the blood that had spilled crimson down her front was slowly taking on a dark gray hue.

  Clearly, some horrible magic had been imbedded in whatever weapon Indigo had thrown.

  Sasha twitched once, then went perfectly still, the horrid grayness claiming her.

  Sparkle started forward to where her sister was sitting behind Ian, peeking around him at what was happening with a perfectly calm expression. I grabbed Sparkle’s thin shoulder and pulled her back. “Stay here with me where it’s safe, kiddo,” I said, my gaze meeting Ian’s. Pain filled his eyes when he picked up Sasha’s limp body and gently placed her onto two of the wooden chairs.

  “Is she dead?” I asked, my voice sounding thin and stretched.

  “This body is damaged, but her being is not,” Ian answered. He faced Indigo, seemed to have an inner struggle for a few seconds, and eventually said, “You are right about one thing—a dragon hunter without his élan vital is hampered, but you’ve overlooked the fact that I am not alone.”

  “That’s right,” I said, lifting up my sword, flexing my fingers on the hilt while I gave Indigo a long, hard look. “And I liked Sasha even if she did kill my sister, assuming the situation Ian said was true, and I have no reason to believe otherwise, so all in all, I’m about at the end of my patience. This sword is called Deathsong. You want to do this the nice way and just give Ian back his soul
sword, or do you want Deathsong to open up a can of dragon hunter whoop-ass on you?”

  Indigo rolled her eyes, and to my disbelief, tossed Ian’s sword hilt first to John. “Here. You might as well use this one even if Miss High and Mighty wasn’t smart enough to clear off when she could.”

  “No!” Ian started forward with a roar, but before he was halfway across the space to John, the latter held the sword aloft and spoke a series of words that I didn’t understand. They sounded harsh against my ears, grating, and leaving me with a feeling of dread, a feeling that was increased when the sword suddenly changed…All the glossy, shiny beauty of it faded into the same dull gray that had crept over Sasha.

  A small yellowish-white light the size of an orange fell out of it into John’s waiting hand. He placed it carefully into one side of the circle of runes, directly above the unconscious man’s head.

  “Is that what you really look like?” I asked Sparkle in a whisper.

  “Sometimes,” she answered coolly, and tried to get out of my grip.

  “You stay here. I’ll protect you.”

  She turned enough to look up to me. “How?” she asked.

  I waggled my sword. “I have a sword, too.”

  “It’s a demon’s sword,” she said, touching it. The sword glowed warm under my hand for a second or two.

  “I know, but it seems to work for me. Wait, you can touch it? I thought you guys were all goodness and stuff.”

  She nodded. “The sword is not evil, only its previous owner was. Dewberry, the esprit in this sword, is much happier with you allowing her to turn darkness to light.”

  I slid her a quick look, but couldn’t take my focus off what was happening in the middle of the room. Ian stumbled and almost fell, his face ravaged by pure anguish, but I knew he was going to attack. Before he could, though, Indigo finished sketching in the air a spell, one lit with smoky black runes, and threw it over Ian. He fell to his knees, his snarl of rage cut off. Indigo smirked at him and, turning, strolled over to John.