My telepathy is weak, I told Sindari as we walked toward the trail. Please deliver appropriate parting remarks regarding their power and might.
Already done. I also pointed out to the lion that he is the only one wet around here.
Perfect, Sindari. Thank you. I paused to hug him, careful not to touch any of the open gashes in his hide.
Then I headed glumly to the trail. Even if we’d been ridiculously outnumbered, I couldn’t help but feel that I had lost. I hadn’t confirmed whether the Pardus brothers did or did not have weapons capable of hurting dragons, and I definitely hadn’t done anything that would keep them away from Nin. I might have made things worse. Maybe I would get lucky, and they would turn any thoughts of revenge on me and leave her alone, but I couldn’t count on that.
A part of me wished I’d killed them before I ran out. Maybe there wouldn’t have been time—shifters were resilient as hell—but if I’d been determined, I bet I could have done it. They were assholes, and the world would be better if they were gone.
But, as I’d promised Zav more than once, I wasn’t a criminal. I worked for the government and only executed those who’d committed heinous crimes. It was possible the panther brothers fell into that category, but I didn’t have proof of that.
“It’s a pain in the ass being a good guy.” I sighed dramatically as we turned back onto the trail.
If it helps, I prefer working with righteous handlers. Having that charm in the hands of a vampire was dreadful.
I grimaced, thinking back to how Sindari and I had met. “I understand. I’ll try my best to stay righteous. While plotting ways to put those guys out of business and drive them out of the country. There’s nothing morally questionable about that, is there?”
I don’t think so.
“Good. I need to come back again, ideally when they aren’t home, to find out who’s in their basement, but there’s no point as long as their pride is hanging out in the house.” I had no idea what I would do if the pride didn’t leave. “Do panther shifters go out on Saturday nights?”
Tigers prefer to hunt at dawn and dusk.
“I’m not sure how much hunting those two do. They’ll probably be licking their wounds for a while. Unfortunately. I’ll have to mull over our options while I’m shopping for lotions at Dimitri’s stand.”
I halted, the memory of the boxes in that living room cabinet coming to mind. I had swiped some of their cartridges. Maybe I could find out who was supplying them to the Pardus brothers.
“I wonder if Zoltan knows anything about Kurt and Otto and this Northern Pride. These guys aren’t operating that far from his home.”
Zoltan might also be able to use his alchemy to tell who’d crafted the ammunition.
He did seem well informed, considering his limited ability to travel.
“Maybe the haunted house gives him tips.” I glanced at the clock on my phone. It wasn’t even lunchtime yet. “I suppose I can’t visit a vampire at high noon.”
Not if you expect him to be awake.
“He may think I’m going to rob him if I sneak in and knock on his coffin.”
Perhaps if you arrived with Dimitri, you would be more welcome, since they now have a working relationship.
“Zoltan and I have a working relationship too. I got a bunch of blood for him. He should be oozing fond feelings for me.”
Never mind that I’d killed his giant guard tarantula. Maybe going to visit with Dimitri would be a good idea. Especially if he already had to return to Zoltan’s lair later, with whatever the vampire’s cut of the day’s earnings was.
Wrapped up in my conversation, I’d forgotten to dismiss Sindari when we got back on the trail. Someone zipping across the bridge on inline skates saw him, let out a startled yelp, and made the turn down the ramp harder than necessary. He hit the grass, flailed and almost caught his balance, but then ran into a rock. He flew off the bank and into the river.
“I think it’s time for you to go, Sindari,” I said as bicyclers came into sight. “You need to heal, and you’re scaring people.”
Me? You were the one talking about blood deliveries and oozing.
That’s not nearly as alarming as a giant silver tiger. I smiled as I made a shooing motion, then hurried to add, Thank you for your help this morning, before Sindari faded into mist.
Always a pleasure to pummel lesser great cats, came his parting words.
9
I passed people selling early-season vegetables, fresh-cut flowers, and local honey, and found my way to Dimitri, who stood like a brooding giant under a white awning stretched over his table of yard-art specimens. More of the metal statues crowded the ground around the table. A few people gave him curious looks as they passed, but nobody came close to admire his goods. Which was probably why he was brooding.
“How’s business?” I asked, walking up.
“Deplorable.” His shoulders slumped. “Nobody even comes up to ask questions about them. They only glance from the walkway and hurry past. I don’t know what the problem is. I’ve had some luck selling them from my website.”
“I hate to break it to you, Dmitri, but…” I reached up to put a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve got a face for internet sales.”
“What does that mean?”
“You’re big and scary looking. If you smiled more, that would help, but when you’re standing there being broody, you look like someone’s mafia bruiser.” I wasn’t sure smiling would make that much of a difference, but it couldn’t hurt.
“Oh. You’re not telling me anything I don’t know, but why would it matter for selling art?”
“Do you see anyone else manning these tables who looks like a security guard?” I waved to the predominantly female vendors, including two women at a soap table who had a box of puppies. I wasn’t sure if they were for sale or only there to bring people in. A lot of exclamations of, “Oh my God—they’re so cute!” came from that shop, and the handmade goat-milk soaps were flying off the table.
“You think you could do better?” Dimitri squinted.
“Me?” I gestured to my assassin-on-the-job couture, including a few tears where flying shards of the broken television had sliced through the fabric of my shirt. Given how the morning had gone, I was lucky I didn’t have black eyes and broken ribs. “I’m not dressed for sales.”
“That place across the way has all women’s clothes. I bet that floral midi dress would fit you.”
“Floral what?”
“Midi dress. You know, the hem at mid-calf.”
“I don’t know. How do you know?” Now I squinted at him.
“I’m an artist, Val. Not a mafia bruiser. Even if my father would have been more approving of that as a line of work.” He shooed me toward the clothing stall. “I’ll buy it for you if it’s less than twenty dollars.”
“Wow, you’re a regular sugar daddy.”
“Also, you have to stay for an hour and see if you can sell things better than I can.”
I was about to tell him that I wasn’t a sales clerk or here to work for him, but then I remembered my reason for coming. “I’ll try to sell some stuff for you if you do a favor for me. I need to talk to Zoltan tonight. Are you going to take him his money when this is over?”
“His money or, with the way things are going, his inventory back, yes.”
“Good, you can take me with you.”
“I agree to this scheme, but why can’t you go without me?”
“The last time I walked into his place, he sicced a giant woman-eating tarantula on me. I proceeded to kill it. I think we parted on decent terms, despite my ravaging his security system, but I’m not positive I would be welcome to return. If I walk in at the side of his new business partner…”
“We’re not business partners. I’m more like his gopher. Or maybe his apprentice.” Dimitri’s eyes lit at this more prestigious title. “He’s already given me some tips for growing a following online. I bet he’d approve of me using a pretty girl to sell m
y stuff.”
I snorted. “You’d be better off with a twenty-year-old ingénue.”
“I don’t have one of those. I have you. And that dress.” Dimitri pointed. “Go get it before someone else does.”
“You’ll throw yourself in front of me if there’s a new tarantula?”
“Deal.”
He had to point me past three dresses to the one he’d had his eye on. The floral wasn’t as bad as I’d feared when he’d said the word. There were roses on the ivory fabric, but they were sage green, a color I didn’t usually look ridiculous in. I was less enamored with the buttons up the front. They seemed too much of an invitation for some thuggish panther shifter to unbutton, but the Northern Pride didn’t likely do business at the farmers market. Judging by the women pushing strollers, this wasn’t a gun-buying clientele.
“Are you interested in that dress?” The vendor strolled up. “It’s vintage from the nineties. It’ll look fabulous on you. What great height you have.”
Hearing that something from the nineties was vintage now made me feel old, and I was pretty sure vintage also meant it was used, but I guessed it would do for selling yard tchotchkes. Besides, it was getting warm, and being in something sleeveless might feel good.
The price was right—Dimitri had made a good guess—though the vendor was disappointed that I wouldn’t try on any of her sandals. The table would hide my combat boots. They wouldn’t matter.
A few minutes later, changed and with my weapons stashed under the table, I listened to Dimitri tell me what his gizmos were and what recycled bits and pieces they’d been made from, and attempted to look personable to anyone who wandered past. That wasn’t my strength. He should have held out for an ingénue.
Still, as soon as he faded into the shadows at the back of the stall, interested people started coming up.
“How much for that big fish made out of wrenches?” asked a bearded man in green plaid who was clearly practicing the lumbersexual look. He wasn’t as flagrant about checking out my chest as the panther brothers had been, but his gaze skimmed past on the way to the metal fish statue.
Dimitri hadn’t given me prices, since he was standing nearby. After taking in the latest iPhone sticking out of the guy’s pocket, an Apple watch on his wrist, and a BMW logo on the car keys he dangled, I said, “Three hundred.”
Dimitri sputtered. Because the price was too low or too high? I hoped he hadn’t brought thousand-dollar pieces of art to hawk from a tent.
Green-plaid Guy lifted his eyebrows. “How much for your number?”
I grabbed one of Dimitri’s business cards. It had the name of his business, Sculpted Rain, rather than his name, along with a website and phone number. Perfect. I held up the card. “It comes with the purchase.”
“I’ll give you two hundred.”
“The price is three hundred, my friend, but I’ll throw in the Scorpion Stinger lotion. It’s got a nice zing.”
“All right.” He pulled out a wallet thick with twenties and hundreds and counted out the money. “Don’t forget the number.” He paused, noticing Dimitri in the shadows for the first time. “Er, is that your partner?”
“Nope. He’s the hired help. This stuff is heavy. Dimitri, wrap up the fish statue and take it to the man’s car for him, will you?”
Dimitri squinted suspiciously at me but glanced at the money and silently went along with my suggestion.
I stuck the bills in his cash box and soon sold an owl with eyes framed by horseshoes to an older man who said his wife “loves this crap.” He wasn’t clad in overpriced techno-gadgets, so I only charged him sixty for his piece.
When Dimitri returned, he said, “You know that man is going to call me later, looking for you.”
“He’ll be disappointed that this was my last day at work and I sold the business to my porter.”
“This isn’t quite how I expected this to go.”
“You’re selling products and making money. No complaining.”
“Fine,” he said as another man approached the stall and started admiring wind chimes made from bicycle chains. “But for future reference, the Scorpion Stinger isn’t a lotion. It’s a tincture you can brush around your doors and cracks in the foundation of your house to keep rodents and insects out.”
“Handy. I hope you let Mr. Plaid know. We’d hate for him to break out in hives.”
“I told him. He seemed more interested in it then. He even gave me a tip.” Dimitri held up a five.
“You’ve got a future in carrying people’s merchandise.”
“Whatever gets me my own property to park my van on.”
“I thought you were saving for a house.”
“Houses are expensive to build. That can come later.”
“Maybe you can build your own from recycled bicycle chains.”
“It crossed my mind. I might throw in some wood too.”
“Rebellious.” During a lull in passersby, I lowered my voice to ask, “Are any of the things for sale here magic?”
I’d wondered if I should be touting extra features or not.
“Not in any significant way. I think I’m going to have to be like Nin and sell those items through word-of-mouth. The times I’ve tried to explain to non-believers about the magical elements, it hasn’t gone well.”
“If it’s any consolation, I doubt there will be non-believers for much longer.” Not with dragons sprouting like dandelion seeds. The government might have been able to somewhat hide the existence of kobolds and werewolves that mostly kept to themselves, but dragons soaring over the cityscape were another story.
“I’m not that consoled.” Judging by his grimace, Dimitri was also thinking of the proliferation of deadly magical beings in the world.
When I handed him another hundred from a sale, he perked up. If only money could solve my problems.
As the hour I’d promised Dimitri limped past, I wore out my lip muscles by smiling and my self-respect muscles by letting men ogle me. And I sold five more pieces for him.
“You’re actually pretty good at this,” Dimitri offered, stuffing his cash box. “You could get a job in sales.”
“This may shock you, but I’d rather lop off the heads of murderers than smile pleasantly at people for money.”
“I’m not shocked. I’ve known you for a couple of weeks now.”
“Got the lay of the land, eh?”
“More or less. Thanks for helping.”
As my hour of service—or was that servitude?—was ending, a powerful aura lit up my senses. I groaned.
Soon, gasps came from a couple of the shoppers wandering down the aisles, and they shouted and pointed toward the sky. Everyone else looked up, but they only shook their heads in confusion. I realized the people pointing all had the faint auras of those with a quarter or an eighth magical blood.
I stepped out into the open aisle in time to see the silver dragon flying high overhead, soaring toward the river. I’d been afraid he would show up on this side of Puget Sound.
Where was Zav? He needed to confront this guy and tell him to go back to his world.
My phone buzzed.
“It’s still Saturday, Colonel,” I said as soon as I answered it.
“No kidding.” Willard sounded irked. “What were you doing out in Bothell this morning, Thorvald?”
“I told you. Looking for dragon-slaying weapons that probably do not exist.” I wouldn’t make that proclamation for sure until I’d seen what—and who—was in that basement. “I also got in a fight because I didn’t want to have sex with strange panther shifters.”
Dimitri’s eyebrows rose.
“Would that be the Pardus brothers?” Willard asked.
“Yes.”
“Respected officers in the Northern Pride?”
“Respected? Are you sure?”
“I ask,” she said without answering my questions, “because the Pride’s lawyer called our office to lodge a verbal complaint. He said you broke into their house, th
reatened them, and busted their television when they refused to back down.”
“That’s not how it went. They threatened me. When Sindari and I defended ourselves, the TV was an innocent bystander.”
“The brothers say they have video footage of everything.”
“Highly edited, I’m sure.”
“If you don’t stay away from them and their house, the lawyer is going to call the police and press charges.”
“The lawyer? What kind of panther shifter brutes hire lawyers?”
“The ones with a lucrative business. Look, I believe you, Val, but don’t go back to their house. If Nin needs protection, tell her to hire a bodyguard. Stay out of trouble this weekend. I’m collecting some intel, and I should have a new assignment for you next week. The dark elves have disappeared, at least out of the sections of the tunnels that were revealed by the sinkhole, but I’m hearing that they’ve been bribing members of the magical community. They may still represent trouble.”
Of that, I had no doubt. The alchemist had said she’d wanted me—and Willard’s office—out of the picture because of some plan her people had. She was dead now, but the two dark elves Zav had been hunting weren’t, and there could have been hundreds more living in those tunnels. At least.
“Fine, but here’s an intel tip you might not have yet: there’s another dragon in town. And he’s flying around looking for trouble.”
Willard digested that for a long silent moment. “Maybe you should try to find a real dragon-slaying weapon. If the dragon starts attacking people… we’re going to be called on to deal with it.”
“By we, you mean me?”
“Very likely.”
“Wonderful.”
10
The headlights of the van brightened the For Sale sign at the driveway of the upscale residence in front of Zoltan’s haunted, dilapidated carriage house. It had been amended since our last visit, and a blue rectangle on the bottom now promised the sale was pending.
Battle Bond: An Urban Fantasy Dragon Series (Death Before Dragons Book 2) Page 7
