Day of the Dragon--Two full books for the price of one Page 9

  “There’s always time for dragons,” she said. “Except for that one. He just looks mean.”

  She pointed at the man with no neck. He growled at her.

  I shot Bree a warning look, but she just growled back at the man.

  Mr. Smooth Voice leaned back, one arm draped casually across the top of the seat. “The regrettable method used to ensure we have privacy while speaking with you aside, it is my great pleasure to meet you in person.”

  “Just who are you?” I asked, more than a little annoyed at how we’d been treated. I realized I should have been scared, or terrified that we were about to be sexually assaulted, murdered, or sold into slavery, but oddly I was more annoyed than anything else. “Are you related to Archer?”

  “I am,” he said, inclining his head in assent. “I’m sure I can count on your good nature—both of your good natures—to accept my most profound apologies for my need to speak to you so urgently, but this is a delicate matter, and delicacy is not my brother’s specialty.”

  Brothers—that made sense. Something inside me, some antagonistic inner fire that had seemed to ride me for the last day, rose immediately despite the man’s smooth manner. “This is kidnapping, you know.”

  “My very dear Miss Moore!” he said, his eyebrows rising. “I would never hold you against your will. You had agreed to meet with me at T and G, and my associate did just that. I assumed you wish to get started immediately on the little job I have for you. Ah, but like my men, I have left the niceties aside.” He placed a hand on his chest and made a little bow. “I am Hunter Vehar.”

  “What a very graceful introduction that was. I hope you enjoy making such pretty bows to your fellow cellmates once you’re convicted of two counts of kidnapping!” I snapped, very aware of his charm. Still, I couldn’t help feeling like he was a carbon copy of Archer, and that the copy wasn’t quite as fine as the original.

  “My dear Thaisa—do you mind if I call you that? I assure you that both you and your friend are safe in my care, and since I could see my brother was attempting to seduce you into providing what he wanted, I intervened as soon as I could.”

  “Archer wasn’t trying to seduce me,” I said, more than a little embarrassed that he saw Archer kiss me. “He just…he was just saying…uh…”

  “My dear, you do not need to tell me about the methods my brother uses,” he said, putting his hand on mine. I slid mine away after a few seconds. “He is known throughout our community for his habit of attaching women to him, and when he’s had what he wants, they are left to their own devices.”

  I wanted to dispute that statement, but the memory of Archer with Sparkle Catriona on his arm the night before came all too swiftly to my brain. And yet…if they were dating, why wasn’t she with him now?

  “Alas, when it comes to the ladies, Archer is unrefined, his manners not at all what the gentler sex enjoys, and if you will allow me to give you a piece of advice, you will stay away from him.”

  I shook my head, more to myself than to address what Hunter was saying, mustering up as much politeness as I could. “He didn’t seem unrefined to me. He certainly doesn’t lack the sort of moral compass that makes him kidnap people, for example.”

  “Touché,” Hunter said, smiling ruefully.

  “I really must insist that you stop the car and let Bree and me get out.”

  “You do not know Archer as I do,” Hunter said, his eyes shadowed. He ignored my demand to be released, just as I guessed he would.

  Worry rose in my mind. Hunter might say he meant us no harm, but there was something about him that had my brain urging me to escape. I glanced around to see how hard that was going to be. The privacy barrier between the driver and the rest of the limo was down, but there were only two of us and, excluding the driver, three of them.

  “My brother has attacked my tribe since the day it was formed,” Hunter said, looking out the window as lights flashed past us. We had to be on a coast road, heading north. “The shadow dragons have only ever sought to be left in peace, but his tribe refuses to tolerate our existence and seeks to destroy us all.”

  If we came to a stop somewhere safe, I mused, and I punched out the silky-voiced Hunter, would I be able to get Bree and myself out of the car before the man shaped like a brick bakehouse tried to stop us?

  “Long have we tolerated his strikes against us.”

  I eyed Damian, who was watching something on his phone. Maybe if I lunged at him first, slamming him into Mr. Beefy, and had Bree take out Hunter…but no, I wouldn’t risk her welfare like that. Not to mention the fact that she probably wouldn’t do as I ordered and would end up sitting on his lap touching his chin and jawline that was almost, but not quite, as nice as Archer’s.

  “I knew when my brother accosted you in the club that I had to move quickly to get you out of his grasp lest he force you to a regrettable situation.”

  I’d just have to use my pepper spray. But how to get all of them fairly quickly…that was the problem.

  “The storm dragons are not known for their fair dealings with others, be they dragonkin or mortals.”

  Hunter first, I decided. Then Beefy, then the sneaky Damian. Although maybe Beefy should be first, since he’s likely to be the one who posed the most threat. A sense of what Hunter was saying filtered through to my brain at that point, causing me to turn and look at him. “The storm what?”

  “Dragons.” He gave me a long look. “You are surprised to hear me speak ill of another tribe? The ouroboros dragons are not like other dragons who sit safely in their septs. Our tribes are born of the lawless, the outcasts, dragons who left their families in order to seek a life beyond what they would have otherwise, and while they are fiercely faithful to their tribe, they do not tolerate well those who would attack us.”

  “Dragons,” I repeated, feeling as if I’d been struck a physical blow. Slowly, synapse by synapse, my brain pointed out that if demons were real, why shouldn’t dragons be the same? “Archer is a dragon?”

  Sympathy filled Hunter’s pale eyes, his fingers resting for a moment on my arm in an obvious attempt to provide comfort. “He neglected to tell you? That surprises me. From what I know, he is more than willing to tell anyone who will listen to him the sad tale of his life, how he was so badly treated, ostracized by both dragons and mortals, how he was denied the status of being the first dragon hunter. I assumed he had played on your sympathy by urging you to provide him succor.”

  Mr. Beefy snorted and murmured, “Succor,” like it was a dirty word.

  I looked at him, then at Damian, and finally back to Hunter, my brain chewing through everything and coming to one conclusion.

  “Hold, please,” I told Hunter, holding up a finger. I turned to Bree and whispered, “He’s a dragon?”

  “They all are,” she answered, her eyes bright, but her smile having long faded. “I’m glad you finally decided to believe.”

  “It just didn’t seem possible…They don’t look like dragons.”

  “Pfft. Who would want to stomp around in dragon form when human is so much easier?”

  “Point taken.” I turned back to Hunter, who was waiting patiently. “Right. You’re a dragon.”

  His eyebrows rose, his mouth curving in a little smile. “I wasn’t aware that was in doubt.”

  “That means Archer is a dragon.”

  “A very inferior sort, yes. I am the master of the shadow tribe. As I just mentioned, my brother leads the storm dragons.”

  Thickset Man said a rude word in a Czech dialect. I considered Hunter, trying to decide if this new world paradigm changed my plans. “You have a copy of Archer’s leaf.”

  Hunter’s eyebrows rose a little. “You know about that?”

  “I do. I sold him the leaf.” I felt as if I was caught up in sticky web of confusion, with little tendrils spreading away from me, wrapping around everything I knew, connecting them all…but in a pattern I couldn’t quite see. “Is that what you want me to decipher?”

 
; “Yes,” Hunter said, flashing a smile that softened the lines of his face. “If you would be so kind.”

  My inner voice warred with my sense of reason. On the one hand, it sounded like Archer’s people had not treated Hunter’s very nicely. But did that mean anything to me? I wasn’t part of their world. I was a simple medieval scholar with an expensive grandmother and a crappy boss.

  I said nothing, only listening to Hunter with half of my attention while I worked through my tangled thoughts.

  “There isn’t a problem working from a photocopy, is there?” Hunter asked.

  This had gone far enough. I didn’t know who was telling the truth about whom, but I did know what was right. “I would be happy to discuss the matter with you, but only if you turn around and take us back to T and G. I’m not comfortable being whisked off to an unknown destination, especially since I did not consent to this journey.”

  “Yeah. And you didn’t even offer us candy,” Bree said.

  Hunter sighed. “I thought I explained the circumstances to you. I assure you that I’m thinking only of your own safety.”

  And that’s what pushed me over the edge: the way he justified ignoring my request. Archer may have been pushy about kissing me, but he didn’t cross this sort of a line.

  “Let us talk about pleasanter things,” Hunter said smoothly, smiling. I could feel the effect of his charm, but it just left me chilled. “I assure you the photocopy is legible. I examined it myself, so unless there is a reason for you not to work with it, you should be able to get started immediately.”

  Bree and I had to get out of there, out of the car, out of Hunter’s control. The whole dragon thing aside—and I was feeling rather proud of myself that I moved past the impossibility of the idea into acceptance—I wouldn’t have remained in that circumstance with any other man.

  Except perhaps Archer.

  The car continued north, now leaving behind the suburb communities and heading into a more forested area.

  “There are times when original documents are too fragile or otherwise unavailable to be examined, leaving physical copies, photocopies, and photographs a valid source of translation,” I said carefully, trying to assess my options. Bree and I didn’t have a great many choices, but I wasn’t going to just sit here and let Mr. It’s For Your Own Good take us who-knew-where. “But what you’re asking isn’t quite ethical. So far as I know, this leaf has never been deciphered and translated. It only came up to auction last month, and from the notes my boss left, it was unknown. I’ve never seen mention of a morality tale dating to that time, and medieval fiction has been a particular interest of mine.”

  “You refer to the note in Latin at the top of the leaf?” Hunter asked, making a gesture at Damian, who promptly handed over the photocopy. “I admit to being a bit rusty, but does this not say that herewith is the true and accurate tale of the Raisa Medallion?”

  I took the paper he handed me, studying it when he turned on the overhead light. Bree leaned over my shoulder to peer at it. “More or less, yes. There’s a bit here about it being told to the scribe by a wanderer who was near death, and something partially obliterated that I believe refers to a deathbed confession.”

  Momentarily distracted from planning an escape, my gaze slid lower on the paper, to the strange symbols that filled the page with few breaks, indicating individual words or sentences. These were no letters from any known alphabet, but odd little curls and slashes that clearly were the shorthand of some long-dead scribe. I let my eyes glide along the lines, not trying to take in the individual symbols but rather to establish a pattern of frequency. My fingers itched for the notepad I always had at my side when deciphering or translating. A symbol popped out to catch my attention, and then a second, the pattern of their occurrence sliding into place in my head. If I could find a few more, I might be able to start working on the shorter words—

  “As you can see, it’s quite fascinating,” Hunter said, sliding the paper out of my hands and tucking it away in his jacket pocket. “Already, you have been able to glean more from it than I could. I look forward to seeing what you can do with the cipher.”

  I met his gaze, which as far as I could tell was absent of malice. That didn’t sway me, though. “Why would you kidnap us over something so unimportant in the grand scheme of things as this little leaf?”

  He made a face. “That word again! I assure you that I have no such intention to detain you against your will.”

  “Fine,” I said, nodding toward the window. “Then pull over and let us out.”

  “Here?” He rolled his window down and stuck his head out a little bit before pulling it back in. “We are skirting the national forest border. There are few houses for miles. I wouldn’t mind a walk along a dark road by myself, but I am master of the shadow tribe. You are a woman. A particularly delightful woman, but still, one who might be vulnerable to attack. In addition to that, we will be at my house within half an hour, where I assure you will be far more comfortable than walking back to the T and G.”

  I knew before he even started talking that there was no way I would be able to convince him to let us go.

  An audacious plan came to me, one that I would not, in the normal course of my life, even remotely consider, but I really didn’t have a choice.

  I slipped my phone out of my pocket, resting it on the seat between Bree and myself, crossing my legs to hide the movement of my left arm as I typed out a message in a text box.

  GET READU

  “I hate to disappoint you, Mr. Vehar—”

  “Hunter, please. Only my banker calls me by the other name.” His smile radiated warmth.

  WHEN CAR STOP WE RUNAWA Y

  “Hunter, then. I hate to disappoint you, but I am not going to be able to decipher that leaf. It belongs to Archer, although I’m hoping to convince him to…Well, that’s neither here nor there. The fact remains that the leaf is, so far as I know, untranslated, and it doesn’t belong to you. It would be grossly unethical to translate it without permission of the owner.”

  Bree, who thankfully had not stared at my fingers typing blindly, pulled out her own phone despite the fact that I wasn’t actually sending her a text message.

  Hunter frowned. “I realize that my brother must have spun you some sort of tale—”

  My phone burbled. I sighed, trying not to roll my eyes. “Excuse me a moment.” I made a big show of picking up my phone, just like my fingers hadn’t been resting on the screen.

  WHY??? Bree texted.

  “It’s nothing important,” I said, smiling at Hunter as I carefully set the phone back down between Bree’s leg and mine, typing quickly THIS IS WRONG

  “Thaisa, I can guarantee you that I would not ask you to do anything illegal, and although I’m aware you’re not comfortable providing me with a translation of the cipher, your reputation—and indeed, you—will not suffer in the least. Quite to the contrary, in addition to the payment we discussed on the phone, I am happy to provide you with a sterling professional reference.”

  My phone burbled again. I glanced at it. OK. WHICH WAY DO WE RUN? I VOTE INTO THE TREES. ANIMAL SCENTS TO THROW THEM OFF, YOU KNOW.

  I tucked my phone down on the seat, saying loudly as I toyed with the strap of my purse, slowly sliding my hand inside it, my fingers blindly searching for the pepper spray that I kept for solitary trips home on the bus. “Sorry again. Everything is all right now.” I glanced at Bree to see if she got the meaning. She waggled her eyebrows, which I took as an affirmative.

  “Is there some problem?” Hunter asked, glancing toward his men. “I assure you that I won’t allow anyone to speak ill of your decision to help my tribe.”

  It was on the tip of my tongue to ask him what on earth a medieval morality tale had to do with dragons, but since I’d only just come to grasp the idea that dragons were real, and walking around in human suits, I decided to let that go. “No, no problem. Er…where are we?” I peered past him as if trying to get my bearings. He glanced out the w
indow, which, as I hoped, caused the other two men to glance as well.

  I threw myself forward, slamming my purse into Damian’s head, knocking him sideways while I shot the pepper spray into the face of his burly companion before turning it on Damian.

  The latter screamed and fell to the floor, clawing at his eyes, while Beefy took a swing at me that caught me on the jaw, sending me flying backward. Hunter was across the space of the limo, jerking me forward, his face black with anger, but Bree rose over him, a bulky object in her hands, which she brought down onto the back of his head. He went down, falling on top of where Damian was on the floor sobbing and cursing profanely.

  Mr. Beefy grabbed me by the throat, his face bright red, his eyes mere slits, but another dose of pepper spray had him crying oaths in a guttural tone, blindly grabbing for us.

  The car swerved dangerously as the driver realized what was going on, fishtailing when he slammed on the brakes, half turning toward us.

  “Run!” I yelled to Bree as I gave him a dose of the pepper spray as well, making sure I stomped hard on Beefy’s hand when I scrambled over the top of the two prone men. Bree leaped from the car and ran. I stumbled and almost fell onto the road, but was up and running after her in a second.

  “Woohoo!” she yelled, doing a little joyous leap, waiting so I could catch up. I grabbed her arm and ran down the road for a few feet, my adrenaline pumping so hard I couldn’t hear anything but the blood in my ears. This section of road was devoid of houses. To our left was a thinly forested incline that had more tree cover as the ground rose. On the right, a sharp drop-off swept down to a small community on the coast, the lights of the houses and streetlamps wavering slightly in the summer evening. Ahead of us, in the distance, I could see the lights of a car driving toward us.

  “Woods!” I yelled to Bree, instinct driving me to get away from anyone who might be a threat. We leaped the metal barrier intended to keep cars from plowing off the road, and bolted into the tree line, slapping branches out of our way while we headed for deeper cover. Bree was ahead of me, her long legs eating up the distance, leaving me to follow the tree branches that were jostled by her passage through them.