Memoirs of a Dragon Hunter Page 7

“Hello,” she said, sticking out a hand. “I’m Sasha.”

  “I am not a fish!” I told her, shoving my hair back out of my face so I could see. “And I don’t care who you are, although, that said, hello. That man stole my sword!”

  “Oooh,” she repeated, grinning at me.

  “Sit down,” Ian told her, his voice gritty and filled with anger.

  She turned to look at him. “Why?”

  He glanced in the rearview mirror. “We’re being chased.”

  I looked out through the back of his car. Teresita was running toward us, her arms waving wildly in the air. “That’s just my friend Teresita.”

  An odd martyred expression flickered across his face. “Of course it’s your friend. You probably have dozens of them lurking about waiting to help you at every turn. Admit it! You do, don’t you!”

  I was a bit taken aback by the way he snapped out the words. What a very odd, angry man he was. “Yes, I have friends. What sort of person doesn’t have friends? If this is some sort of feeble attempt to make me think you’re nuts, and therefore not prosecute you for stealing my sword, you can just nip it in the bud, because I’m not going to fall for it. Give me back my sword!”

  Teresita had reached us by the time the last word left my lips, and without a second’s hesitation, she opened the car door and got in next to me, panting heavily. “Ian! I thought that was you. I knew we would see you again—Daniston is too small a town not to see people you know—although you guys could have told me you were going jogging. I would have worn better shoes. Hi. You must be a friend of Ian. I’m Teresita.” This last was addressed to the woman in the front seat.

  Ian banged his forehead on his hands, still firmly gripping the steering wheel.

  “I’m Sasha.” The young woman turned around and smiled broadly at Teresita, pumping her hand up and down several times. “Aren’t you pretty! Your skin is the color of a caramel latte, and I love your hair. You have so many shades of brown in it. Is it a glamour, or is it real?”

  “Sasha,” Ian said, kind of sighing when he said the name. He looked perilously close to rolling his eyes when he turned his head to look at her. She looked like she was about seventeen or eighteen, too old to be his daughter, but definitely too young to be a romantic partner. Unless he was into that. Ick. “You can’t say that sort of thing.”

  “Really?” She wrinkled her nose in a delightful sort of way that reminded me of anime girls with big, innocent eyes, wistful expressions, and soft, breathy voices. “Why not?”

  “Because it’s not polite.” He made an odd sort of half grimace, half apologetic smile at Teresita in the rearview mirror. “Please forgive Sasha. She meant no rudeness.”

  “I can see that,” Teresita said, forcibly extracting her hand from where the girl was still shaking it. “And none taken. I’m quite proud of my heritage, as a matter of fact. My hair is all my own, although I will do the lemon juice in summer thing just to throw in a little natural highlights. What…uh…Are you two related?”

  Bless Teresita—if there was one thing I loved about her, it was the way she wasn’t afraid to ask whatever was on her mind. It usually coincided directly with something that I very much wanted to know but was too shy or awkward or anxious to ask.

  And right at that moment, I was delighted she peppered the man whom I’d glimpsed the night before with nonstop questions, because I, too, wanted to know what he was doing behind a decaying strip mall with my sister’s soul sword. “I’ll tell you what’s rude! Stealing my sword. Which, I’d like to point out again, you have, and I want back.”

  “Us? Related?” Sasha gave a peal of (charming and bell-like) laughter before adding, “Zizi’s shiny red earlobes, no! I’m his girlfriend.”

  “The hell you are!” Ian said quickly, glaring at her.

  “Look, you’re clearly having a lover’s spat—” I said, leaning forward so I could look into the front seats. Lying next to Sasha’s legs, my sword poked upward, just out of my reach. Possessiveness burbled up and spread out across my chest, making me feel hot and prickly, as if I were in the process of getting a bad sunburn. “If you could just give me back my sword—I’m really getting tired of asking for it—then we’ll be on our way and you guys can work out your relationship issues.”

  “We have no relationship issues,” Ian snapped. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

  “I’m not?” Sasha’s expression changed to confusion. “Then what am I?”

  “Sword!” I said loudly, and hit the back of Ian’s seat with both hands. “S. W. O. R. D. It’s not that hard a word to understand. Sasha, it’s the one right there, leaning against your leg. If you could just slip it back to me—”

  “The word you are searching for is apprentice,” Ian said, ignoring me other than sending me a fast glare when I hit his seat. “A mandatory one.”

  “You love me,” she said, blowing him a kiss. “Admit it!”

  He did roll his eyes then.

  “Sorry,” Sasha said, turning back to Teresita. “I’m an apprentice, not girlfriend. I’ve been at the Court of Divine Blood for so long, I’ve forgotten what you mortals call things.”

  “The Court of—” Teresita started to ask, but I’d had enough.

  “ARGH!” I screamed, and threw myself forward until I dangled over the arm of Sasha’s seat, snatching at my sword. I’d just grabbed it when Ian’s fingers closed around mine. A little tug-of-war took place at that moment, which I’m glad to say I won by dint of using my free arm to hit him on the back of his head with my elbow.

  “Cheese and toast!” Teresita said, gasping when I pulled my sword into the backseat, cradling it to my chest. “Did you just hit him?”

  “She’s done quite a bit more than that to me,” he said in a low growl, rubbing his head.

  “Well, you started it! You stole my sword. Twice!”

  “I had no idea who you were. You could be anyone. An élan vital is special. You can’t just demand one and expect to receive it.”

  I hugged the sword even tighter. “What part of ‘this was my sister’s sword’ do you not understand?”

  He moved so fast he was just a blur. One moment I was in the car glaring at the back of his head, and the next, the door I’d been leaning against was open and I fell backward out onto the pavement. Ian grabbed the back of my shirt and literally hauled me up onto my feet, giving me a little shake just like I was an errant puppy. “I repeat: who are you?” he asked, his face shoved into mine. His eyes did that weird fire thing where the outer edge of his irises seemed to turn into light green flames.

  Rather than being intimidated, however, I felt the same flush that hit my chest before, this time spreading outward and upward until I thought I must be steaming with anger. I shoved him backward, whipping my sword from the scabbard and holding it to his throat. “Your worst nightmare.”

  To my surprise, the thick cords of his neck became visible when he tipped his head back and laughed. “You have no idea just how horrible my nightmares are,” he finally said, leaning into the sword just a little, enough that a thin trickle of blood started at the sword tip and ran down his neck. “You want to end them for me? Go right ahead. You’ll be doing me an immense favor.”

  The sight of the blood, the same maroonish color that had leaked out of Helen, brought sanity to my overwrought mind. I stepped back, lowering the sword. “I’m not going to kill you, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “Then tell me who you are. Why do you keep saying that élan vital belonged to your sister? Helen Larson had no sister.”

  “How do you know that?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

  He grimaced and gestured away the question. “It’s not important. I know, however, that sword is not yours. You will surrender it to me, and I will see to it that it is returned to the Court, where the esprit can be replaced and the sword given to a worthy dragon hunter.”

  “Like hell you will,” I said, waggling the sword in what I hoped was a menacing manner. �
��No court in the world is going to make me give back something that is legally mine.” I backed up a few more steps, prepared to bolt should he move toward me.

  “Not a mortal court,” he said, then hesitated, pinning me back with a piercing look that made a by-now familiar flush wash upward from my chest. “Why do you insist that Helen Larson was your sister? Her father had no other children.”

  “We had the same mom, but different dads, not that it’s any of your business. I’m only telling you so you’ll stop arguing with me.”

  “A half sister.” For a second, Ian looked like he wanted to cry. “Adam never told me. Of course he didn’t. Why did I believe this was going to be easy?”

  “What’s going on?” Teresita asked, trotting over to where Ian and I faced each other, Sasha on her heels. “Are you two arguing? You don’t even know each other. I thought we were going for a ride?”

  “It’s a showdown,” Sasha said succinctly, doing an odd little jig before she patted Ian on the arm. “Dragon hunter versus dragon hunter. Who will come out on top?”

  “He’s a dragon hunter, too?” I asked, eyeing Ian. That would explain why he knew about my soul sword.

  “You are not a child of Adam Larson,” Ian stated baldly.

  “Ronnie? Why are you pointing like that? In fact, let’s back it up a bit, because I am so lost in this conversation,” Teresita said plaintively. “Would anyone like to clue me in to what’s going on? All I can see is Ian rolling his eyes toward heaven, and Ronnie pointing a finger at him. I take it that the Wonder Woman sword is here? Who is Adam Larson?”

  Distracted, I gave her a little frown. “Adam was my stepdad. And I told you, Wonder Woman has the invisible plane, not an invisible sword, and besides, I can’t mention that in the book or the DC franchise will come after me.”

  For a moment, Ian looked as confused as Teresita. “What book?” he asked.

  “The one I’m writing about my life. Or I will be just as soon as I can get my yoga started. Mr. Manny was very adamant about the yoga. Why did you run off with the sword if you thought it belonged to Helen?”

  “She’s dead.” Ian was silent for a moment, his gaze crawling over my face. “A fact that you must know, since no dragon hunter would give up an élan vital unless he or she was on the verge of death.”

  “She died in my arms, as a matter of fact,” I said, swallowing back a painful lump in my throat. “How did you know she was dead?”

  He turned, and without a word marched back to the car, getting in and gunning the engine in what I’m sure was meant as a hint to Sasha, who just smiled at us, her anime-large eyes sparkling with secret delight.

  “What a very rude man,” I couldn’t stop myself from saying.

  “He is, isn’t he? Torture will do that to you. Strip away social niceties, that is,” she said pleasantly.

  “Torture?” Teresita asked, looking interested. “Literally or figuratively? Does he have a dark past? Is he all brooding and angsty? He looks like he could be brooding and angsty.”

  “He can be as broody as he wants so long as he leaves me alone,” I said, then slipped the sword back into the scabbard. A thin black leather belt was threaded through the latter, so I buckled it around my waist, moving it until it hung down my left hip. “And can we address the fact that the day I turn into a mythical being, the guy downstairs ends up being one, too? Coincidence? I think not.”

  “Yeah,” Teresita said, turning to cast a suspicious look over at the car. “That is kind of odd. I mean, how many dragonistas are there?”

  “Twelve worldwide,” Sasha said, then pointed at the sword. “You’re gonna need that.”

  “I am? Why?”

  As I spoke, a van pulled off the highway and into the parking lot at the far end of the mall. I paid it no mind, assuming it was someone who was turning around, or possibly a drug user coming to shoot up in the privacy of the filthy back alley.

  Instead, the dirty white van rolled to a stop for a few seconds before it meandered slowly up and down the aisles.

  “I hope you know how to use it,” Sasha said with another bright smile. “Aim for the head; it’s usually more effective. I’d help if I could, but Ian hid my sword from me. One little outing to help someone escape eternal torment, and boom, your élan vital is confiscated. That’s not in the least bit fair, is it?”

  “Wait, you’re a dragon hunter, too?” I asked her, shaking my head in confusion.

  “Is everyone here a dragon except me?” Teresita asked. “What is that guy doing? He’s going to ruin his shocks.”

  I had lost interest in the van, but realized with a start that it was now heading straight for us at an increasing speed, bouncing over the various cement blocks intended to keep cars in tidy rows.

  “Ack!” I screamed, and grabbed Teresita, shoving her toward the car.

  Ian must have noticed the van, too, because he suddenly leaped out of the car and yelled for Sasha. “Protect the mortal!” he ordered.

  “How am I supposed to do that?” she grumbled. “You won’t let me have any weapons.”

  “Just protect her. You—you say that you’re a dragon hunter! Come with me.”

  “My name is Ronnie, not ‘you’!” I yelled as he did a TV-hero move of rolling over the hood of the car and racing straight toward the oncoming van. I watched for a few seconds, hesitating. Assuming the people in the van had bad intentions, should I stay where I was and protect my friend and Sasha, or should I help Ian? And just who was in that car, and why were they attacking?

  The van slammed on its brakes, and before it even came to a complete halt, three men boiled out of the back, with the driver and another man joining them. Ian didn’t hesitate; he just ran straight at the men, a sword like mine suddenly in his hands, the sunlight glinting off the polished metal.

  “Ian does so enjoy a good battle,” Sasha said, standing alongside the car, leaning against it while she shaded her eyes to watch Ian plunge into the circle of men. Two of them were armed with knives, while the third had a crossbow, and a fourth some sort of black metal object that looked like a tire iron. The fifth danced around with his fists raised, evidently a proponent of bare-knuckle fighting. “When he’s not doubting himself, that is, which I have to admit is a lot of the time.”

  “Who are they?” I asked when Ian spun around, his sword flashing. One of the men fell to his knees.

  “Ronnie!” Teresita demanded, and started shoving me forward.

  “What? Stop it! You’re hurting my back.”

  “Go help Ian!” she ordered, and continued to shove.

  “Why? I don’t know who those men are, and Sasha just said Ian likes a fight.”

  “You’re a dragon superhero! It’s your job to help him!”

  “Says who?” I moved to the side so she’d stop pushing me forward. “Helen didn’t mention anything about that.”

  She slapped her hands on her thighs and did a little foot stomp before pointing over at where Ian was now covered by the five men. “He’s our neighbor!”

  “One who stole my sword,” I pointed out.

  “How can you be so uncaring? He might be hurt!”

  “I’m not uncaring. I’m just not huge on getting into fights with people.” I glanced over at the ruckus. It was true that the free-for-all was going strong, although one man was laid out, his arms moving feebly. “Besides, Ian’s down to just four.”

  “It doesn’t matter! It’s your job now.”

  I sighed. Despite not wanting to get involved in whatever issue Ian had with the men, I supposed I would have to do something to stop them. “I don’t know. Do you really think—”

  “Yes!” she shouted, and made shooing gestures at me. “Go be a badass dragon…er…dragonette!”

  “All right,” I said with another martyred sigh and glanced at Sasha. “Those are bad people, aren’t they? I don’t want to be sued later because Ian has anger management issues and picked a fight with people who did nothing wrong.”

  “Oh, ye
s. They’re demons in human form,” Sasha said, buffing a nail, but she gave me a curiously sharp glance from under her lashes. “We’re the only ones who can destroy them. It’s all in the sword, you know? The élan. Demons can’t stand it. It makes them crumple up and turn to ash. Kind of like that one that Ian just gutted.” She clapped her hands and yelled loudly, “Nice job, boss man, but you better watch your back!”

  “Dammit!” I ran forward then, mentally yelling at myself for my reluctance to get involved. I thought of pulling my sword out so I could wave it and threaten the demons in the very best swashbuckling manner, but the cautious part of my mind pointed out that it was the sheerest folly to run with a sharp object in my hand, so I kept the sword sheathed until I was close enough to hear the men swearing at Ian. One remained prone on the ground, while another disappeared just as Sasha said, leaving behind a nasty black pile of ash.

  I didn’t know what plan of action I had in mind when I arrived at the fight, but I felt it was only fair to warn the men—demons—that I meant business. “Demons!” I yelled over the grunts and oaths and thuds of the fight. “I want you to know that you have options other than violence. If you continue to beat up Ian—oh, that was underhanded, sir! I just kicked him there a short while ago!—then I, as a dragon hunter, will have no other option but to take action.”

  The nearest demon, the one with the tire iron, leaped onto Ian’s back, using him to springboard over to me. Before I knew what was happening, a red wave of anger spread out from my belly, and I found myself sword in hand, doing a spinning move that I had hoped would impress the demon with my prowess.

  It didn’t. I stumbled over my own big feet and fell, screaming as I tried to keep the sword from skewering me. The demon leaped onto my back and started pulling at my hair while screeching unintelligible things.

  Panicked, I struggled to get the sword out from underneath me, managing to roll over onto my side, which, sadly, exposed me to the demon’s vengeance.

  “Die!” he snarled, his saliva spraying my face. I brought my knees up and tried to slash at him with the sword, but he simply knocked it out of my hand and started strangling me. I tried to scream, but only horrible clotted grunts emerged from my mouth. Just as huge black blotches began eating away at my vision, a flash of light skimmed past my face, and the demon’s head was separated from his body. I sat up and stared in stark horror, both hands on my neck while gasping for air, and watched as the head bounced away. Almost instantly it turned into a nasty, oily black, ashy smoke and drifted away on the wind. The body did the same when it collapsed to the ground. Above me, looking down with an inscrutable expression, stood Ian.