No Good Dragon Goes Unpunished

by Rachel Aaron

  She glanced back for his answer, but her spirit had gone perfectly still, his translucent body frozen like an ice sculpture below the stairwell’s high-efficiency halogen lights.

  “What?” she whispered, instantly on alert. “What is it?”

  The spirit didn’t answer, but she felt his presence in her mind draw tighter as his attention focused on something up the stairs behind her.

  Dragon.

  Given the positioning and the suddenness—and whose wards she’d just finished trashing—Marci’s first thought was Chelsie. But when she whirled around, the dragon waiting on the steps above her was one she’d never seen before.

  He was, of course, a Heartstriker, but other than the ubiquitous green eyes and dark hair everyone in the family shared, he looked as much like Julius as she did. He was also huge, easily as big as Justin. But while he was still insanely handsome (as every dragon seemed to be by default), he looked more brutal and thuggish than the J-clutch knight ever could. He was also doing that leering-down thing dragons always did with people they considered beneath them, which definitely wasn’t helping. A month ago, Marci would have found that intimidating, but these days she’d been leered down at by no less than Bethesda herself, and she was not impressed.

  “Can I help you?”

  “I’m sure you can,” the dragon said, taking a deep breath. For some reason, this simple action left him looking confused. Confused and angry, which Marci had the feeling was a pretty common combination for him.

  “You certainly do get around, don’t you?” he growled.

  She arched an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means you smell of both Julius and Amelia,” he said, obviously disgusted. “I’ve never met a human who belonged to two dragons at once, but Julius isn’t much of a dragon. He already shares his power with a Council. Why not his human as well?”

  Marci’s fingers tightened on the railing. Normally, she found it was good procedure to be polite to everyone she met. This went double for immortals, who tended to be prickly. But between her still-lingering hangover and the indignity of getting lost on a stairwell that only went two directions, her worn-down patience was already on the edge, and this rude dragon had just crossed the last line.

  “First,” she growled, “I’m no one’s human. Second, I don’t know who you think you are, but—”

  “The name’s Gregory Heartstriker,” the dragon interrupted, pulling himself to his full height, which, when you added in the fact that he was standing two stairs up from her, put him at over double Marci’s own. “Terror of the Amazon. Maybe you’ve heard of—”

  “Nope,” she interrupted right back. “Don’t know, don’t care. You have zero right to talk about Julius. He saved all of Heartstriker’s bacon the night before last, which includes yours. By dragon rules, I’m pretty sure that means you owe him your life. Fortunately for you, Julius doesn’t buy into your creepy debt system, so why don’t you do us both a favor and go count your blessings somewhere else.”

  That was supposed to be the end of it. Julius’s honor had been defended, and she had places to be. But as Marci turned to stomp away, the dragon grabbed her shoulder.

  “Mortals don’t turn their backs on me.”

  “And you do not touch me,” she snarled, bracelets flaring as she grabbed the magic from Amelia’s fire and shoved it through the bracelet containing her variation on the Force Choke, folding and bending the magic into a giant invisible hand that grabbed the dragon around the throat and slammed him into the stairwell’s stone wall.

  The sudden attack surprised Marci as much as it did her victim. She hadn’t intended to fight, but dragons weren’t the only ones with instincts, and the moment she’d felt Gregory’s fingers clamp down, something inside her had bitten right back. In hindsight, attacking a magical creature that was probably ten times her size at least was probably a critically stupid idea, but it was done now. Any hesitation at this point would be seen as a weakness to be exploited. Fortunately for her, Marci didn’t feel like hesitating. She was sick of dragons looking down on her and beyond sick of hearing them badmouth Julius, who’d done nothing but try to help these losers since he’d gotten power. With the exception of Amelia and Julius, she was sick of Heartstrikers period, and after the things this one had said, she was perfectly happy to keep grinding him into the wall until he turned into paste.

  Unfortunately, Gregory didn’t seem to be down with that plan. He was fighting her hold tooth and claw, shoving back on her magic with his own as hard as he could, which wouldn’t do at all. Amazing as Amelia’s magic was, it wasn’t infinite, and thanks to Ghost’s earlier gorging, her supplies were rapidly running out. If he kept fighting her like this, she’d burn through all her juice in no time, and then she’d really be up the creek.

  The easiest thing to do would be to crush him into unconsciousness, but Julius had worked so hard on this nonviolence thing. He hadn’t even hurt Bethesda, and she’d done much worse than make insulting insinuations. Marci wasn’t about to ruin his track record now just because a dragon was being a jerk. Also, she wasn’t sure if she could knock him out sufficiently with the magic she had left. What really she needed was a diversion, something to make Gregory stop struggling long enough for her to make her point. So, with that, Marci flicked her hand, snatching Gregory off the wall to the empty space in the middle of the spiraling stairwell.

  She still wasn’t sure where they were in the mountain, but it was quite a drop. Thirty stories at least, more than enough to seriously injure even a dragon if she kept him trapped the whole way down. Gregory must have realized this, too, because he stopped struggling. Marci smiled coldly, counting down silently in her head to the sixty seconds she thought would be sufficient to make it clear that she was a mortal to be feared before she tied the spell off and left him here.

  That was the plan, at least. But she’d barely made it to twenty when an icy voice commanded, Drop him.

  Marci’s eyes flicked to Ghost, who was now perched on the railing beside her, his glowing eyes locked on the floating dragon with a look of cold disdain. Do it, he ordered. He will not let us be if you spare him.

  That was probably true, but Marci shook her head. Putting stuffed-shirt dragons in their place was one thing, but no matter how rude they were, she drew the line at straight-up murder. Also, she wasn’t even sure she could kill him anymore.

  Once he’d gotten over the initial shock of being dangled helpless in midair, Gregory had started fighting harder than ever, burning through the last of her magic in the process. At this rate, Marci wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep him trapped long enough to escape, never mind holding the spell long distance all the way down. If they’d been in the DFZ, she could have grabbed a refill from the ambient magic, but the power here was so thin it was practically worthless. She was about to just release him and run while he was trying not to go splat when Ghost’s voice purred in her mind.

  I have power.

  Marci sighed. “Not this again.”

  Why not? he asked, his glowing eyes innocent. Let me take over. I have everything we need to make sure this one never bothers us again.

  She was shaking her head before he even finished. She’d heard these devil’s deals from him before, and they always turned out to be more than she wanted to pay, especially for something as stupid as this. She was out of time anyway, so Marci pulled her hand back, releasing Gregory moments before the last of her magic ran out.

  “I think I’ve made my point,” she said, looking down on him with her best imitation of Amelia at her scariest while he flailed and caught the railing. “Run away, little Heartstriker, before I do wors—oof!”

  Gregory leaped before she could finish, swinging himself one-armed over the railing to body-slam her into the stone stairs. For a terrifying second, Marci was crushed beneath his weight, and then his hand closed around her throat as he lifted her off the ground to pin her against the wall.

  “Not so haughty now,
are we?” he growled, baring his teeth as Marci beat futilely at his grip on her throat. “Your parlor tricks might keep a whelp like Julius in line, but I’m not stupid, mortal. I know how your magic works, and I can smell when you’re out, and we both know you’re very much out.”

  A chill of panic shot through her, driving Marci to fight even harder, but it was hopeless. He was so much bigger than she was, and so, so much stronger. He didn’t even seem to feel her kicks. He just squeezed, cutting off her air as his fingers crushed into her throat.

  “I could kill you right now,” he said calmly. “One twist, and your neck would snap like a chicken’s. The only reason I haven’t is because doing so would defeat the purpose of bothering with you in the first place.” He leaned down to grin in her face. “It’s your lucky day, mortal. In yet another example of his extreme incompetence as the head of a dragon clan, Julius has let his attachment to you become well known. Very stupid of him, but what else can you expect from a failure?” He reached down with his free hand to grab her wrist. “Let’s see how determined he is to have his vote after I send him one of your fingers, shall we?”

  He bent her hand back painfully, but Marci was too preoccupied with trying to breathe to feel it. Between her panic and the dragon’s grip on her neck, the world was already starting to go dark, and to make things even worse, Gregory wasn’t the only one Marci was fighting.

  Let me go! Ghost roared in her mind. I’ll bury him for daring to touch us!

  That’s why I can’t let you go! she yelled back, clamping down on their bond as hard as she could. Don’t you get it? He’s only doing this to get to Julius. If we kill him, we lose!

  If we kill him, he’ll be dead and we won’t. That’s not losing.

  There was more to it than that, and Ghost knew it. He’d been there, too. He’d seen how hard Julius had fought for his dream of a clan where things like this didn’t happen. The fact that Gregory was stooping to threaten her now was proof that Julius was gaining ground, and Marci was determined not to be the weak link. The whole reason she’d come to Heartstriker Mountain was to help him, not mess him up by letting some overgrown reptile drag her off to use as a prize like he was Bowser and she was Princess Peach.

  But that’s exactly what’s going to happen if you don’t let me crush him, Ghost growled, his pale light washing over her darkening vision. I’m part of you, two halves of the same whole. But while I can’t die, you can. Julius isn’t here now. I am. I am always with you, Marci. Let me help.

  She shook her head stubbornly, and her mind was filled with the odd but distinct sensation of a spirit sighing.

  What if I promise not to kill him?

  The words came out so grudgingly, Marci had trouble believing them, but she was rapidly passing the point where she could afford to be picky. Her body was already shutting down, her limbs going heavy and useless. If she was going to do something to actually stop this kidnapping, it had to be now, and so she gave in, releasing her hold on Ghost’s connection.

  The moment she let go, a wind rose in the stairwell.

  It was cold as death. A dry, hollow wind that smelled of dust and blew from every direction at once. But while Marci thought the cold air actually felt kind of nice in a creepy way, Gregory snatched his hand off her throat like he’d been burned.

  “What the—”

  Did you think we had forgotten?

  The voice was Ghost’s, but infinitely deeper. Even gasping for breath on the floor, the sound made Marci look up in surprise. But while she saw nothing, Gregory was another matter entirely.

  He must have jumped back the moment he’d let her go, because the dragon was now standing against the railing on the far side of the stairs, his green eyes wide and moving wildly. For several seconds, Marci couldn’t figure out why, but as the spots vanished from her own choked vision, she spotted it at last.

  The dragon was covered in shadows. They came from nowhere, were cast by nothing, but every time the ghostly wind shifted, they crawled higher, sliding up his massive body like a lover’s hands.

  “No!” Gregory shouted, beating his chest and legs with his hands as he tried in vain to knock the shadows off. “What are these things?” He bared his teeth at Marci. “What did you do?”

  That’s the wrong question.

  The deep, disembodied voice echoed down the empty stairwell, and then Gregory’s shape became hazy. At first, Marci thought this was just another trick of her still not quite recovered vision, but that wasn’t it at all. She couldn’t see the dragon properly because there was another figure standing on the stairs between her and him. A tall, ghostly man dressed like a Roman centurion and wearing a helmet with nothing inside save for two glowing ice-blue eyes that glared at the dragon with pure, hungry malice.

  In a move that impressed Marci more than anything else he’d done, Gregory glared back. “What are you?”

  “Again, you ask the wrong question,” the soldier said, his deep voice rising as the wind picked up. “The question you should be asking, Gregory Heartstriker, is, ‘Who are they?’”

  He extended his ghostly hand, pointing at the shadows that were crawling up Gregory’s legs. The dragon must have thought he was bluffing, because it took him several seconds to actually look down. When he ducked his head at last, the shadows changed, transforming from vague blobs into distinct human figures, and as their shadowy hands moved up his chest, all the bravado fell off Gregory’s face.

  “No!” he roared, beating frantically at the shadowy human figures that were now crawling out of the ground all around him like a seething ant hill. “You’re dead! You can’t— Get away from me!”

  But it didn’t work. No matter how hard he fought, his hands passed right through the humans like they were shadows in truth.

  “You can never escape them,” the spirit said, his blue eyes gleaming in the dark of his empty helmet. “Yours has been a violent, careless life. Even you can’t remember anymore how many corpses you’ve left in your wake, but I do.” He pointed at the crawling shadows, who were now up to the dragon’s neck. “Those are your ghosts, Gregory Heartstriker, and they have come for what is theirs.”

  By this point, Gregory looked well and truly panicked, his green eyes moving frantically between the shadows and the ghostly soldier like he couldn’t decide which was the bigger threat. “What are you?”

  Marci knew there was no mouth inside that empty helmet. Even if there had been, she couldn’t have seen it from where she was, but it didn’t matter. She could feel the spirit’s smile as he answered. “I am the Empty Wind, Spirit of the Forgotten Dead. All who are lost are mine to keep, and to avenge.”

  The wind had risen to a gale by the time he finished, pushing the shadowy ghosts crawling over Gregory higher and higher until their grasping fingers were within an inch of his face. What they were going to do once they got there, though, Marci never saw. The moment the first ghostly finger touched his chin, Gregory panicked.

  There was no warning, no blast of fire. He simply changed, transforming from an overgrown, beautiful, thuggish-looking man into an overgrown, beautiful, terrifying blue-and-orange-feathered dragon that barely fit inside the stairwell. That was as much as Marci saw before he bolted, half flying, half squeezing his long body down the hole in the middle of the stairwell. By the time she’d scrambled back to her feet and run to the railing, all she could see was the orange-and-blue flash of his tail as he vanished through an unmarked door a dozen floors below.

  I told you I wouldn’t kill him.

  Marci looked up to see the Empty Wind standing over her.

  “That you did,” she said, trying not to wince at the grave-like chill of his hand as he pulled her to her feet. “Good job.”

  The blue eyes smiled at her from the empty helmet, and the wind died as fast as it had risen, taking him with it. Seconds later, the terrifying ghostly soldier had collapsed back into a ghostly, fluffy white cat. Tired, he said, yawning.

  “Poor baby,” Marci cooed, leaning
down to scoop him up. “Thank you for helping. You did good.”

  I will always help you, the cat whispered in her mind, his eyes closing. You are mine and I am yours. When all others have forgotten, I will remember. Always.

  Yet again, the promise struck her as equal parts sweet and creepy. She knew it came from a good place, though, and Marci hugged her spirit tight, kissing him on the cold, soft patch of fur between his ears just as Julius burst through the door a few floors above them.

  ***

  In another part of the mountain as far away from the stairwell as possible, a newly human and very naked Gregory burst into the large storage closet where he’d intended to stash Julius’s mortal. He stood there panting for a moment, and then he threw himself at the supply bag he’d left in the corner. He was still rummaging through it for something to wear when a disappointed voice spoke from the doorway behind him.

  “Never send a G to do a dragon’s job.”

  “Shut up,” Gregory growled, grabbing a pair of pants and shoving his legs into them as fast as he could. “You didn’t tell me she had a spirit.”

  “It shouldn’t have mattered,” David replied, closing the door. “Aren’t you the Terror of the Amazon?”

  Gregory sneered and kept dressing, and the older dragon’s eyes narrowed. “You had one job. You owe me much, Gregory. I’ve covered up your failures in Brazil for a century now, and all I asked in return was that you keep this vote from moving forward and Julius under control.”

  “It’s not that simple,” Gregory snapped, finally turning to face him. “You told me to go for his human so we wouldn’t have to worry about his Fang, but you didn’t say anything about that…that thing.” Just the memory of the cold shadows made him shudder, and Gregory shook his head. “We miscalculated. That girl isn’t Julius’s weak spot. If anything, it’s the other way around. I don’t even know what a mage like that is doing with a whelp like him. She’s got Amelia’s smell all over her.”