“I’ll return you. I’ve not taken a long flight for thousands of years.”
This sucks; if he leaves Chernobyl, he’d be seen as a rogue dragon. That dab of information would explode the magical world in a frenzy.
I closed my eyes and breathed, letting my mind go still. When I opened them, Campe sat on his haunches, head cocked to one side.
“Well?”
On occasion, I was an idiot; for the most part, though, I was a decent gambler.
“Lord Apollo, will you excuse us?”
He shimmered, a ghost of a smile on his lips, and I swallowed, turning to face the dragon.
Chelsea and Glenna stood, arms akimbo, and stared at the remaining bit of dragon fire.
“Why isn’t this extinguishing?” Chelsea muttered, casting her fifth dousing spell.
“Because this magic is older than witches, daughter.” Glenna cast a small box around the flames, holding them from spreading. They burned with inexhaustible fuel, a cheery lantern on the edge of The Boogey’s bar top.
Apollo materialized. “A honey mead, Witch.”
Glenna moved, lifting the cask and filling his goblet. “What happened to the Keeper?”
“She chose, to my surprise, to continue her audience with the dragon without protection.”
Chelsea’s glare shaded green. “And you felt ditching her with Campe completed your bargain?”
“Careful,” Apollo’s eyes glowed gold. “Know your place, child.”
“My place? Patra is my best friend. I have seen great, time bending shifts during her turn as Keeper. We lay on the cusp of true enlightenment and expansive knowledge building. What is your goal here, Dad?”
Green and gold locked, power radiating. Glenna shrugged and picked up her drink. “Are you two finished?”
“For now.” Apollo drained his mead. “Tell the Keeper I will come see her when she returns. I keep my agreements.”
“Gin.” Poseidon threw his cards on the abalone topped table, raised his arms and stretched, muscles rippling.
“Only because you cheat,” Nereus picked a scampering crab from his flowing white beard and flicked it across the table at the god, who caught the tiny life between his thumb and massive forefinger.
Poseidon pushed against the clear wall of water, and the bubble obliged, moving with them.
“Still impenetrable.” He took the tiny crab, placed it on his palm and watched it scuttle through the bubble’s smooth interior and drop to the sandy bottom before waving its claws in defiance and burrowing. “But only to us.”
“Your Keeper is wise for a human. Perhaps she’ll figure out the rebalancing.”
“Are we wagering?”
“Breaks the boredom.” Nereus’ beard shook as dozens of crabs waved their claws in excitement. “Cover the tabs at The Boogey for a century?”
“The way you drink? Harsh.”
“And you don’t? I’ve seen you and Dionysis pull some serious binges, and I’ve only been around for a couple of moons.”
“True. Di gets it done.” Poseidon stuck out his hand, and Nereus gripped it. “Agreed. I say the Keeper figures it out, and you say the Great Restructure is upon us.”
“You know, regardless of who wins, Di will tag along and drink for free.”
“Wouldn’t you?”
“By Zeus, I would, and laugh every damn moon.” Nereus picked up the cards. “Again?”
Campe lay on his belly, head near the scorched earth as I paced in front of him, thinking hard.
“You are the first? The divine of the Thundra?”
“I am. Lore and law originated with me.”
“How could they imprison you? You’re a literal Zeus over the dragons.”
“Zeus is a bit of a dick, Keeper. But I’ve heard your story, so I’m not relaying fresh news, am I?”
“Why are the dragons so vicious? Those descriptions are also true.”
“Yes, a few angered dragons went rogue, but often the stories were exaggerated. Victors frame history. They always have.”
“How much of your lore is innate? I mean, embedded and divine?”
Campe snorted, but with care. A few more bits of grass singed, but not near my feet.
“Keeper, we are the first race. Dragon shifters were lords over every creature for hundreds of millions of years. How well do you know your ancient history?”
“Some. You’re saying dragons predate dinosaurs?”
“In a sense. Over time, we helped move evolution forward. Chaos pulled threads to get the water situation squared up at the end of the Triassic period. And dragons created demi-gods, too.”
Dragon/dino date night sounded way more reasonable than dragon/human hookups.
“Does that still happen? I mean, obviously not with dinosaurs, but I believed shifters required magical partners to procreate.”
“Most must. We are not most, not even close.”
Crud.
“How solid is the sense of lore embedded within nonmagical offspring? Do they understand your codes and laws without interacting with another dragon?”
Campe raised his enormous head and stared at me for a long beat.
“It’s not innate. Some come close to full-dragon ability, and the other species involved influenced others. Humans, while delightful partners, were problematic. Many caught fire and died.”
“Spontaneous combustion!”
“I believe that’s what humans call it to explain the phenomenon, but it’s impetus gone amok.”
“So there’s been other human dragon demis?”
“Ahh, Keeper. Finally, an interesting question. Who is this other?”
Crap. Think, Patra. You can’t disrespect him, and you just blew it.
Campe’s snout smoked.
“A man arrived at The Boogey and caught fire. I’m trying to understand why.”
“Did he live?”
“Asclepius intervened.”
Campe threw his head up and roared with laughter. “Apollo must have loved that.”
What?
“Campe, why is that?”
“Apollo knows through firsthand experience that the balance is greater than the gods. The bullshit of confining the Thundra is over, except for the aftermath.”
Crud. In the interest of longevity, payback is a situation that I, and most of the human world, at least the ones interested in not being snacks, should avoid.
“Campe, I want to protect the creation. All of it. Preserve the humans, magicals, and immortals, but bring them into the next Renaissance. That includes dragons, but not as lords or underlings. A unique species with every right to thrive and develop.”
“Keeper, significant rancor and old injuries exist. I promise nothing, but I will consider your mission. Take me to your dragon demi. Let me see his state of mind.”
I swallowed and nodded, unsure if I just sowed the seed to end humanity. Respect cuts both ways, though. Maybe in venterim, humans have a safety net. Of course, the first redneck shooting at a dragon busts our opportunity to survive.
Americans own 120 guns for every 100 people. We are so screwed.
Chapter Nine
Tucked behind Campe’s wing joint, I stared at the witches, multiple covens, in shock. Old school, broom flying, and shrieking while casting at his body, which was impervious to the spells. Mine? Not so much. I supposed I’d be dead before the landing, but still.
“Stop, I am the Keeper, and I know what I’m doing! Cease your attacks!”
“Dragons must remain in place. Human stupidity threatens us all,” one cackled back. She had to be at least 400 years old, the oldest witch I’d ever seen up close. Flew that broom like a freaking Ferrari, though.
A mist resembling a thick bank of low-lying clouds eased up from the ground and surrounded Campe.
Vapors!
“The Vapors support this peaceful action, witches. Allow us to pass.”
Campe’s great wings flapped, but the mist did not move as the sounds of their shrieking faded.
His enormous head turned toward me and I got what I supposed passed for a dragon grin. Way too many teeth. Yikes. I wasn’t pulling from a sizable bank of knowledge on dragon humor, but the lack of smoke was promising. No crispy witches today.
“Did you call the Vapors?” Campe asked.
“No, they chose to rise.”
A groovy side effect of them hanging around was warmth. I perched, watching the endless ocean pass beneath us, followed by what I believed was Anchorage, then onward, across incredible swaths of America.
“Are you tired?” I called, uncertain how many hours we’d been aloft. My time zone skills were rusty, but I thought Florida was a seventeen hour difference from Chernobyl.
“Just getting started, Keeper. Dragons fly for days. Our impenetrable skin holds our water within, allowing us to move throughout the creation.”
More entries for the record. At this rate, I’d need an hour to add the mounds of information gleaned in the last twenty-four hours, and I hadn’t talked to Apollo yet. Here’s hoping he’d honor that agreement. Dragons and mayhem aside, restoring the balance was the primary goal. I nail that piece, and the rest won’t matter. As much. Maybe.
To the rhythmic flapping, I slept because when I looked down again, ocean salt filling my nose, I saw crashing surf and strips of beach. The waxing moon was up, and the roads along the Atlantic empty. One o’clock? Two? Parker would be ready to bounce, of that I was certain.
Wings scooped air as Campe swung his huge clawed hind feet forward and ran out of the sky, jogging and slowing on the sand. He crouched, dipped a shoulder and lifted a wing, allowing me to slide off, wincing on the landing.
What did I do to my knee? Crap.
I turned and stopped dead. Campe was gone; in his place was a freaking Adonis. Like the most beautiful male I’d ever met, and in my line of work, amazing ones happen all the time. He was also naked. And impressive.
“Keeper, shall we?”
“Um, well, you can’t really stroll around in the human world with your equipment swinging.”
“Are you serious?” He gave himself a jiggle. “How obtuse.”
“Please don’t take offense, but you have a substantial vocabulary, Campe. I wasn’t sure how communicating would work, but you made connecting easy.”
“I’ve had an inordinate amount of time to read, Keeper. The void had an excellent library.”
“Tartarus is deep,” I said, straining to keep my face in check. Failing, I grinned at Campe.
“Both redundant and funny, Keeper. You surprised me as well.”
“Still, I need to find a towel.”
I scanned the posts marking the beach parking line in the moonlight, noticing a lumpy one, and jogged to snag the sandy beach towel hanging over the wooden 4x4 pole.
“Here, wrap this around your waist until I find something more suitable.”
Campe tucked in the towel’s end and nodded. “Very well, Keeper. The good stuff is hidden. For now. Take me to the demi.”
Hoo boy.
At The Boogey’s wooden door, I signaled to my betoweled guest. “Place your palm on the door, and see if it admits you. I don’t know if they banned dragons wholesale or not.”
Campe raised an eyebrow and touched the carved door. It swung open.
“It admitted the demi, named Drago,” I said, stepping in The Boogey.
“That’s interesting.”
“Agreed. In a world based on law and logic, it’s a surprising misstep.”
“Miscalculations with dragons never happen. Are the Vapors involved?”
Hmm. Possible.
With a shrug, I limped around the corner to a coven of twelve witches, arms raised.
Shit.
“There is no threat, Chelsea.”
“You moved a dragon! And it appears you left your mind in Russia. Are you insane?”
“No, I’m not. He’s here to assess Drago, and help me understand what I’m dealing with so I can fix the balance. Remember?”
“When you connect two dragons, you release the Thundra! Step aside, Keeper. We won’t ask twice.”
“No.”
I stepped in front of Campe. Behind the bar, Parker’s eyes widened.
“Boss, they’re serious. I’ve been listening to them for hours.”
“So am I. Looking for another Salem, ladies? You’re on the way to getting one.”
“We lost no witches in Salem.”
“Humans aren’t the species driving the disrespect this time.”
Silence greeted this bit of wisdom, and Chelsea and Glenna exchanged a glance.
“I don’t trust this.” Chelsea’s eyes, a deepening green, grew menacing, and she splayed her fingers.
“Well, I trust knowledge,” Glenna said, lowering her arms. “And I want to hear the history from his perspective.”
They locked gazes, and I glanced at Campe, who appeared unconcerned. When you’re hard to kill, I imagine the petty stuff slides off.
While Glenna and Chelsea argued in their heads, I gestured to a stool next to the box of flames.
“A souvenir from Drago, I’d guess. He exploded into impetus here at The Boogey.”
“May I?”
“Sure.”
He lifted the glowing ball as the scent of sulfur filled The Boogey and turned it in circles between his thumb and forefinger.
I slipped around the bar, tapping Parker on the shoulder. “Clock out.”
“No way, I want to stay and learn.”
“Nope. If this goes sideways, we can’t take out both Keepers.”
My face meant business, and as the silence stretched, I could see the gears turning in Parker’s head.
“Are you writing in the record tonight?” he murmured, low.
I lifted my lips to his ear. “Damn skippy.”
“Fair enough. I’ll work with the book until dawn and hope you show. Stay alive. ”
“That’s the goal.”
Parker slipped out and palmed the door to the office. As it snicked shut, I eyed Chelsea. Still white hot. Unsurprising. My gaze slid to Campe, holding the little ball of flames a few inches from his eyes.
I moved closer. “Drink?”
“A glass of ice, Keeper.”
A stein filled with cubes plunked next to him, and he popped one in his mouth.
“I know the sire,” Campe said. “Imprisoned at Crib Goch in Wales. He must seduce the hikers.”
Chelsea’s efforts to keep her curiosity quiet failed. She lowered her arms; the remaining ten witches followed suit.
“So dragons can mate beyond their species with success?”
Campe popped another cube and continued studying the flames as I sketched out the salient points of our conversation. The witches listened, intent on finding holes in the new information.
Glenna tapped the bar’s top, and I started pouring aelgos. Promising.
“Your race, being the original magicals to shift, makes sense, but Chaos helped? He’s told us he never interferes.”
“Chaos geared his aid toward improving the opportunity for expanding life within the creation, not an intentional benefit to dragons,” Campe answered. “If he wanted to interfere, punting that asteroid would have been useful. We had a good gig going.”
Chelsea rubbed the bridge of her nose. “The lore on the viciousness of your race is vast. Why should magicals believe you won’t resume the attacks?”
“Who wrote it?” I was on thin ice here. Lore was closely guarded.
“Centuries of witches recorded and curated our knowledge,” Glenna replied, shaking her head at me. Behind her, several coven mates glowered.
“The subjugators write the history, and if I’ve learned anything, it’s that magical law is sometimes corrupted to merge power.”
A piece of spell tape slapped across my mouth, and I glared at the scary haired witch who cast it as Chelsea laughed.
“We follow this conversation to the end, then decide, Dracena,” Chelsea said. “No silencing the Keeper.�
��
A grumpy harrumph answered her. With an irritated yank of her hand, Dracena released the tape; it dropped to the bar with half my lips’ skin stuck to it. I tasted blood.
The Boogey’s door opened, and Apollo, followed by Clep, selected seats at the bar.
“The usual?”
Apollo nodded, and Clep smiled in agreement. I set them up, assessing the shifts in the dynamic.
“What happened to your mouth?” Clep asked, cocking his head.
I pointed to the tape. Clep’s eyes narrowed, and he grunted. A green feeler eased from his palm and tapped my upper and lower lip; the tingles of discomfort vanished. A second tentacle erupted from his other palm, shot along the bar, and whacked Dracena hard on her ass.
“Behave yourself,” Clep said, and lifted his drink.
I reorganized my expression, seeing no point in pissing Dracena off further. I’d be bitchy too, if I had wire coat hangers after a three-day bender for hair. Apollo leaned in toward Campe, engaging in a private conversation. Based on Chelsea’s face, efforts at snooping went nowhere.
Campe rose, adjusted the towel, and nodded. “The demi survived his impetus. Clep released him back to the world. I remain until he’s located. An interesting evening, Keeper. You took a chance tonight and have my respect. En Venterim.”
“En Venterim,” I replied. “Do you have a place to stay?”
“I have my choice of rooftops.”
Campe flashed an intentional smile, far less toothy, and my pelvis liquified. Damn.
The door sealed behind him. Apollo waved a hand, pausing time and freezing the witches in the moment. Clep’s eyes twinkled.
“Better. You had questions, Keeper? Ask them now.”
Chapter Ten
Hand cramping like a champ, I reread the fresh entry in the record, blowing on the ink to encourage it to dry. I’m not a hundred percent, but I thought this was the longest I’d ever made. The day’s events, excluding the various showdowns, foretold one of the biggest shifts in the record’s history.
My thumb and forefinger massaged the aching thumb crotch of my writing hand as I ran the day through my mind. Calm, factual, and I hoped, thorough. I’d read enough entries that left me with more questions than answers. Today’s goal was to not add to that pile.
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