The Blue Devil

by Quirah Casey

  I draw closer to the man as he backs away, turning as I slash out again. He continues to dodge my attacks, never making one of his own. He’s skilled, strong, and agile, but I know without a doubt that I’m better. Otmscheniye just barely misses his shoulder as he rushes forward, his weight and force knocking me down. The sword falls from my hand, clinking against the concrete.

  Fuck it, I don’t need a weapon to take this man down.

  I roll to my feet, kicking out, my foot connecting with his shin. He goes down, but the speed with which he gets back up catches me off guard. He takes a swing, his claws grazing my arm, but I barely feel it as I rush forward, grabbing him by the throat and slamming him into the brick building, rubble falling down around us.

  Little electric shocks vibrate up my arm, emanating from the places where my fingers grasp his neck.

  His eyes meet mine, some of the amusement gone.

  “You feel that?” he asks, his eyes darting to my arm.

  I blink, disoriented, before gritting my teeth and tightening my grip. Still, the dragon maintains a relaxed stance. He doesn’t look too concerned about the fact that I’m seconds away from killing him.

  “Where is the girl?” I demand, knowing it’s going to be hard to find Olyvia now. Not impossible, but it’s going to take more time than I expected, and that’s annoying.

  “What girl?” Amusement lights his eyes again.

  “You think this is a jo—”

  “By the way, I’m London. Remember my name because you’ll be screaming it later.”

  Is he—

  He can’t be serious right now.

  “I don’t have time for this. I can find the girl on my own.” The tingles continue to shoot up my arm, and I don’t like it. It’s unfamiliar. Unfamiliar never ends well.

  I draw my free hand back, prepared to pull his throat out, when I suddenly become aware of a bullet ripping through the air for the second time tonight. This one isn’t coming from my gun, though, and by the time I hear it, it’s already too late. The bullet digs into my shoulder, pain exploding through me. My grip on the man loosens.

  Another bullet lands in my shoulder, then another, and the man smirks as the pain worsens.

  “I suppose those shots would have already taken down a weaker dragon, but since they haven’t taken you down, I guess I’ll have to.”

  Pain shoots through my knee as the man’s foot connects with it. I feel a crack against my jaw, and then I find myself on the ground.

  The man stands over me. I know my injuries won’t be enough to kill me, but they’re pissing me off. In less than a minute, this man has landed right at the top of my shit list.

  “Really, I know it isn’t polite to hit a woman and all, but when the woman is as strong and powerful as you, I think an exception can be made. Right, Pudding?” He casually shakes out his hand as he steps out of view.

  Why he doesn’t try to kill me while he has me down puzzles me, but I can only capitalize on his mistake.

  The pain in my jaw and knee fade quickly, leaving only my shoulder still throbbing. The bullets must be laced with something potent, likely from the black market if it’s strong enough to cause me this much pain.

  Still, I push to my feet and face the man, determined to not go down like this. I will always fight until I can’t anymore.

  The man’s smile returns as he watches me.

  “So much spirit, Pudding. I’ll have to remember that for later. But until then, I’d much prefer you on your back.” I look past him, catching a glimpse of a woman with long, golden hair aiming a gun at me, and then pain blooms in my chest and I fall backwards and find myself staring up at the night sky once again.

  The man lets out a tsk, kneeling over me as he runs a claw down my cheek. I reach up to grab him, but he knocks my hand away. It’s easy for him. There are enough bullet holes in me to sink a ship.

  “Yeah, on your back is just how I like you. See you later, Pudding.”

  He wiggles his fingers at me in a mock wave before he disappears, and I am alone, bleeding out in an alley.

  CHAPTER TWO

  It doesn’t take me long to realize that the bullets in my shoulder and chest are laced with nabesy, one of a select few poisons that can be fatal to dragons. Nabesy is illegal; it can only be found on the black market, for a price with a lot of zeros. If my blood worked like that of other dragons, I’d be long dead by now. But no. I’m alive, and I’m pissed.

  Thankfully, the pain has started to subside. I barely feel it now. Still, I can’t remove the bullets myself because of their position in my shoulder, out of arm’s reach.

  Tires screech as a car speeds into the alley. I tense, prepared to call upon the shadows, until I recognize the little black sports car.

  I catch a flash of wild, curly purple hair, followed by a glint of silver as a mocha-skinned woman gets out of the car, her eyes like purple flame as she scans the alley for a vanished threat.

  “Put the knives and guns away, Mel. They’re long gone.”

  I called Melodiya Antipita, my second-in-command and closest friend, a good fifteen minutes ago, right after the man—London—left, and I was able to get to my phone.

  Fortunately, this job wasn’t too far away from Lobrooke, saving me the inconvenience of finding a local healer.

  “How could you let your guard down enough for someone to get the drop on you?” Mel admonishes as she squats down to my eye level, her hands reaching out to run gently over my arms, though clearly the problem at hand is my shoulder. I managed to get the bullets out of my chest on my own, but there are still holes in my shirt, which is covered with blood. When Mel sees the stains, she takes a deep breath.

  “Siniy.”

  “You know I don’t like to be called that, even by you.”

  Her brows furrow. “Blue, this is serious. You could have died.”

  “Probably not.” I start to shrug but stop when the pain returns.

  Mel’s jaw clenches. “You can barely even move your fucking shoulder!” Her eyes narrow to slits and her claws come out, literally. “Yet you act like everything is okay, like it’s only a scratch.”

  I sigh, putting my hand on her arm, feeling her relax under my touch. “Calm down, Melodiya. I would really prefer if you could wait to yell at me until we’re home and you’ve taken the bullets out of my shoulder, okay?”

  She looks down at my hand and pulls her arm out of my reach. “You are such a manipulative piece of shit,” she says, reaching down to help me stand.

  I brush her hand away, standing on my own and trying to cover my smirk. “Yeah, but I’m your manipulative piece of shit.”

  “Only because everyone else fears you.”

  “As they should.”

  “Just get in the car, Blue.”

  I look at the ground, where there’s a puddle of blood, all mine. “Do you have a blood charm on you?” I ask, not liking the thought of my blood lying around. It could easily be used against me in a spell, by a witch or something worse.

  “Yeah. Get in the car and I’ll take care of this.”

  “I also left my gun and bag on a rooftop a couple buildings away.”

  Mel sighs, turning and glaring at me. A look I’ve grown immune to after a century of receiving it on the regular. “Get in the car, Blue. I’ll take care of everything.”

  I roll my eyes at her as I pull the passenger door open. “Enjoy ordering me around while you can.”

  “Trust me, I am. It only happens once a decade. Now get your ass in the car.”

  I shake my head, settling into the passenger seat and wondering what kind of laws Mel broke to get here in fifteen minutes when Lobrooke is a thirty minute drive away. My eyes start to drift closed as the A/C cools me down.

  I wake when a hand gently touches my cheek, and I open my eyes to find Mel looking at me from the driver’s seat. “We’re home.”

  I turn my head, finding that we’re parked in the garage of my private residence, the home that only a select few
people know about and even fewer have access to. “‘Bout time,” I mutter. I move to get out of the car, and the burning pain returns to my shoulder. I groan.

  “We really need to get those bullets out,” Mel says, moving around to my side of the car to help, but I wave her off. This isn’t the worst pain I’ve been in, not even close, and if I’d been able to remove the bullets myself, I would already be completely fine. My body has tried to heal the wounds, but without looking I already know that things have only gotten worse: the bullet holes have closed, leaving the metal embedded in my shoulder. Which means Mel’s going to have to cut me open and take the bullets out. Luckily, I’ve given her plenty of experience cutting me open and stitching me closed over the years.

  I put in the passcode for the door and listen as the locks click. The house is quiet as I enter, all the lights off, shrouding us in darkness. Neither of us bother with the lights; dragons can see just fine in the dark.

  “Your room?” Mel asks as she follows me in, closing the door behind her.

  “Yeah.” I make it up the stairs with ease. The twinge is more annoying than painful at this point.

  “I’ll get the medical kit,” Mel informs me as I sit down on my bed. I wave a hand in acknowledgment, trying to force my eyes to stay open. I want nothing more than to lie in my bed and get some rest. Well, nothing more except vengeance. Yet I know I’ll only come up empty if I try make that happen tonight.

  Tomorrow, I’ll begin to figure out what I need to know. For now, I just need to recoup. I wasn’t given a deadline for Olyvia Hynt to be six feet under, but I know that my employer expects me to handle jobs quickly. Up until this point, I’ve never had any major problems, though, so as long as I find Olyvia within the next couple of weeks, my employer will never know about this blip.

  Mel reenters the room, a small black duffel in her hand along with a bottle of yonka, an imported Russian drink. I know it’s no coincidence that she grabbed one of the only alcohols in existence that can actually get me buzzed.

  I strip my shirt off, Mel’s eyes following the movements. She inspects every inch of my bare skin, checking that she hasn’t missed an injury.

  “Want me to take my bra off, too?” I ask, unable to keep the sarcasm out of my voice as I snatch the yonka from her and take a swig.

  “It’s not like I haven’t seen you naked a million times anyway.”

  “That’s because you feel like you have to thoroughly inspect me every time I get back from a job.”

  “Well, you can’t blame me. Since I walked in on you cutting your own stomach open to remove a blade someone made you swallow decades ago, I can’t trust you when you tell me a job ‘went off without a hitch.’” She finally stops looking at me, setting the duffel down on the bed next to me and opening it.

  “It was just one blade! And I killed the woman and set myself free.” Really, the job wasn’t as bad as it sounds. “Are you ever going to let me live that down?”

  Her answer comes instantly. “No.”

  I let out a short laugh, shaking my head and downing another swig of the yonka. I need a good buzz tonight, or I’ll find myself out chasing a dead trail.

  “Are you sure you want to do this on your bed? There’ll be blood everywhere.”

  “I’ve got a blood charm in my one of my night drawers.”

  “Why would you have a blood charm in your dr—? Never mind, I don’t want to know.”

  “You really don’t.”

  “This is going to hurt, because you know I need to do it quickly before your skin closes back up.”

  “I know the drill. Make sure you use the tongs to get the bullets out so the nabesy doesn’t touch your skin.”

  “Okay.” Silence, and then cold metal against my shoulder, and then a burning pain. I can feel the blood running down my back in a thick stream. “Sorry,” Mel mutters, and I know without turning to look at her that she’s cringing. She’s never liked to see me in pain, and she hates it even more when she’s the one causing it. It doesn't matter that she’s had to hurt me to heal me many times over the last century; it still bothers her every time. I understand. She’s one of the few people I care about, and when she’s hurt, I feel it in my bones.

  “It’s not that bad, just hurry up before the cut heals.” There’s more pain as the knife continues to dig in.

  “See it.” The knife stops, and then the pain worsens as Mel tries to retrieve the bullets with the tongs. “Got one.” There’s the sound of metal clinking against metal, and I turn my head to look into her tray. The bullet she’s pulled out has a hunter-green tint from the nabesy.

  “Shit, Blue, you didn’t tell me that they shot you in the shoulder four times.”

  “Hell, I didn’t even feel the fourth one. I thought it was only three.”

  “Only three?” I hear the last bullet hit the pan. “You say that like it’s much better! And you never fucking explained how you let this happen.”

  “You have terrible bedside manner,” I tell her. I can already feel my shoulder healing, the skin knitting back together. I down the rest of the yonka, turning to look at her.

  Her violet eyes burn with anger. “How could you be so fucking careless?”

  I have to push back anger of my own. Mel is the only person allowed to talk to me like this, and even though she does it rarely, it still it pisses me off. “I wasn’t being careless.”

  “Don’t say it like I sound crazy. We both know you rarely give any thought to your own safety. Despite the fact that it may be fucking hard to kill you, it’s still possible. You take dumb-ass risks because you get off on the danger, but you never give any thought to how it would affect others if you died.” Her eyes hold mine, the underlying meaning of her words not lost on me.

  I feel my claws start to emerge, my senses sharpening as I lose control of my human form for just a second before managing to push the dragon back.

  She’s right, you have people to take care of.

  When I’m able to speak, my sentences are terse and clipped. “There was a second person. I didn’t know. That was how they got the drop on me.” And I was slightly distracted by the loudmouthed, arrogant English asshole, but Mel doesn’t need to know that. “I wasn’t being careless. I just made a mistake. There, are you happy?”

  Her eyes soften as she lets out a sigh, running a hand through her hair. “Yes, but only because you admitted that you make mistakes like the rest of us.”

  “Don’t expect me to say it again any time this century.”

  “Trust me, I don’t. Now it’s time for you to get some sleep. Which drawer is the blood charm in?”

  “The top one,” I tell her, standing and stripping out of my pants.

  She opens the drawer, pulling out the charm as I head into the bathroom. After a quick shower, I return to the room, letting my body air-dry. I find all of the blood gone, along with the medical kit. Mel looks up as I enter the room, her eyes giving me another once-over before she looks away and moves toward the door. “I’ll sleep in the guest room. Goodnight.”

  “Wait,” I say as I slide under the covers, the soft silk of the sheets sliding over my bare skin.

  “Yes?” she asks, stopping in the doorway. She doesn’t turn around to look at me, and I raise a brow at that.

  “I need you to find out who bought those bullets. And see if anyone knows a gold dragon named London. Blonde hair, gold eyes.” And annoying, I silently add.

  “Is that who attacked you?” she asks, finally turning to look at me, the fire back in her eyes.

  “Yes, but all I need you to do is figure out who he is. I’ll take care of the rest.” And by taking care of the rest, I mean that I’ll be the one to rip out his heart and hang up the dead body as a warning to anyone who hasn’t yet realized that you don’t fuck with the Blue Devil.

  CHAPTER THREE

  No matter what’s going on in my night job, I always show up to my day job. The Lair, my club, is my primary job, and it brings in a substantial, steady income
that helps hide the funds from my side job, which isn’t legal in any way. The income is also a good cover for the illegal trading that goes on in the club.

  The Lair caters exclusively to chöąts, non-humans, who fall into two categories: beatus and raddäugs. The beatus category includes gamics, supernaturals, and amdridians, creatures created millennia ago by the big three families of gods—Greek, Slavic, and Celtic—to fight their battles and serve them. And serve they did—that is, until the gamics and supernaturals fought back. The amdridians sided with the gods, which was no surprise considering that they’re essentially demigods with less divine blood. Due to the gamics’ and supernaturals’ victory against the gods and amdridians, we aren’t under the gods’ control anymore, and we can raise our children as free chöąts. Well, for supernaturals, like vampires and werewolves, it’s less about raising children than biting them into existence. Gamics, including dragons, witches, faeries, and pixies, must be born with magic.

  Raddäugs are creatures created by gods beyond the big three families, like the Norse. There are also other non-human creatures, like the caelestis, who are rumored to be the descendants of gods and witches; they don’t fall into either category.

  People travel from far and wide to visit The Lair. Located in Lobrooke, in a two-story building that spreads across acres, The Lair is home to everything chöąts love—sex, alcohol, and drugs—making it one of the number one chöąt clubs in the world. At The Lair, a chöąt won’t be shamed for taking their siem form, the middle ground between human and creature, and hell, they can even take their true form as long as they can physically fit in the club.

  Lobrooke has always been one of the few chöąt hotspots in America, but when I made it here nearly a century ago, I elevated the town. I dedicated myself to making Lobrooke prosperous and safe for non-humans, from helping chöąt business owners bring in more customers to securing more rights for the local chöąts. Most importantly, I got the Chöąt Defense Agency under control. The CDA enforces the law. When I arrived in Lobrooke, the local branch had been fully corrupted and was abusing its power, wrongfully arresting chöąts, assaulting them, and getting away with it. The Synod—the chöąt legislature—wasn’t any help, since it’s just as corrupt.