Dragon's Egg (Dark Streets Book 2)

by BR Kingsolver

  I scrambled to my feet and turned to see the blue demon rip the arrow out of his eye, take a deep breath, and then blow. An ice-cold wind swept down the street, and those caught directly in its path froze in place. Personal shields and anti-magic spells didn’t provide much protection against the heat and cold of fire and ice.

  A fireball hit the frost demon, and he cried out in shock. While he was distracted, I crept up behind him. Determined not to make the same mistake as I had with the fire demon, I gripped my sword with both hands and braced to swing at the frost demon’s neck.

  A powerful hand gripped my ankle and pulled. I went down hard on my left elbow and back. The fire demon pulled me toward him. Frantically, I swept my sword down and took off his arm below the elbow. A lightning bolt hit him in the head, and I was able to crawl away.

  When I gained my feet, I saw that two more arrows were sticking out of the frost demon’s face. One of them was embedded in his other eye, and he was staggering around, blowing his ice-filled breath in all directions. At the same time, a couple of fireballs hit him, and one of the halfling Paladins darted forward and cut off one of the demon’s legs at the knee. When the demon fell, Göndul brought her sword down and decapitated him.

  The fire demon was looking away from me, so I ran over and took his head. The two halves bounced in different directions.

  Someone raced by me, and I looked up to see Verichenko. He passed the demons, jerked open the door of the van, and jumped in. I realized the engine was still running. The next thing I knew, the van’s tires squealed, and it rocketed in reverse down the alley.

  I rolled toward the wall, and the van missed me. It screeched to a stop, then drove forward down the cross street. Leaping to my feet, I chased it. I can run pretty damned fast for short periods, and I managed to keep the van in sight until it disappeared out the gate. When it hit the main road outside the plant, Verichenko floored it, and I had to give up. I watched in disgust as it sped away.

  With nothing to show for our efforts except bruises, a couple of broken bones, a lot of scorched flesh, and one case of frostbite, we trooped back to Verichenko’s warehouse. I knocked on the door, and when a man answered it, I shot him in the chest with sleepy gas. Stepping over his body, I walked through the warehouse shooting everyone I encountered. There were nine men and the blonde woman.

  We found two SUVs and a large panel truck inside. One end of the warehouse was set up as a living area, with cots, a sitting area, and a kitchen of sorts. Another curtained-off area had an altar inside a circle and a pentagram. I assumed that was where Verichenko planned to sacrifice the woman when he tried to bind the Dragon.

  After searching the place and finding nothing interesting, we took the SUVs, some food to eat on our way back to Bucharest, and the blonde. We drove back to our cars and left one of the SUVs there, but I kept the fancy one with the bar and surround-sound stereo. Since Cassiel and I had flown in, we needed the extra seats for us and the sleeping woman.

  Back in Bucharest, the Paladin watching over Verichenko’s apartment said the white van hadn’t returned. Roger took the woman to his club and then turned her loose when she woke up. The last I saw of her, she was standing on the sidewalk looking confused. I left Verichenko’s SUV in a rather sketchy part of the city, unlocked with the keys in the ignition, then Cassiel, Göndul, and I headed over to Antonio’s house.

  “What do you think he will do?” Antonio asked. “He’s made a fairly heavy investment in obtaining that egg and in making preparations to hatch it.”

  “He’s also lost two demons,” Cassiel said. “Binding them weren’t trivial spells. That sort of thing takes a lot of preparation. I imagine all his plans are in disarray right now.”

  I thought about it. “What other homes does he have?” I asked. “He didn’t make it out of there with any clothes other than those he was wearing. He has to have someplace he feels safe, and it would have to be a place where he can hide the egg.”

  By judicious eavesdropping, I had discovered that the Paladins had several stations scattered across Earth to coordinate their operations in that realm. Roger was in charge of the one in Bucharest, located there due to the ICAA headquarters in Brasov. Other stations were located in London, Washington, Tokyo, and Mumbai.

  At my urging, Cassiel called Roger. In turn, Roger alerted all of the Paladin stations around the world to keep an eye out for Verichenko. By the time I woke up in the afternoon, Roger’s contacts had sniffed through property records and found two properties owned by Vasyli Verichenko. One was an estate in southern France, the other an apartment in Moscow. Neither was a convenient drive from Romania. The apartment where he lived in Bucharest was leased.

  Of course, he could easily stay at one of his henchmen’s houses or at a hotel for the short term. In any case, we were at a dead end for the moment. I called Altinir and briefed him on what had happened.

  “Have you run into our Dralf friend again?” he asked.

  “Yes. An Elf I know buried him. We don’t know whether he’s alive or dead, but we haven’t seen him since. How is Valinir doing?”

  “Getting better. Getting stronger,” Altinir said. “Your cousin flew out here to help take care of him. I guess she thinks we don’t have any competent healers.”

  “She’s not a healer,” I said. “I think she has ulterior motives.”

  He chuckled, then said, “Kellana, I’m sending Selinger out there.”

  When I started to protest, he said, “I’m not going to send an army, but if you’re dealing with a summoner, I think you might need a strong mage. Those demons wouldn’t have given Selinger any problems. He’ll see you tomorrow night.”

  After Altinir hung up, I called Josef and gave him an update. I asked him to keep his ears open for any unusual activity. After that, I decided to hit the magic market on the outskirts of town. My own shopping had taken a back seat while I was looking for that damned Dragon’s egg, and Bucharest’s bazaar was one of the largest and most interesting in the world.

  That night, a storm blew in from the Carpathian Alps and blanketed Bucharest with snow. It reminded me that we were approaching Winter Solstice and the Humans’ Christmas.

  Chapter 23

  Four days after Salinger arrived, I was getting ready to fix dinner when Cassiel received a phone call. When he hung up, he said, “That was Roger. He said that same blonde woman just showed up at Verichenko’s apartment building and went inside.”

  I had some difficulty processing that statement, so I just stared at him while I waited for it to make sense. Finally, I managed to say, “What?”

  “Yes, that’s a head scratcher, isn’t it?”

  Five minutes later, his phone rang again. “Yes. No kidding? Oh, yes, we’ll be there.” He hung up. “Three men just drove the blonde out. Roger’s men are following them.”

  “This is the woman that you think the summoner planned to sacrifice?” Selinger asked.

  “Yes,” I told him as I stripped off my apron. I gave Antonio a kiss on the forehead. “Sorry about dinner. I guess you’ll have to fend for yourself.”

  “Sofia will take care of me,” the old man said. “I’ll put the goose in stasis, and we’ll have it another night.”

  We took the big SUV that Selinger rented at the airport and headed out.

  “They’ve taken the highway north,” Cassiel reported. “It looks like they’re going to Galati.”

  “What the hell?” Göndul expressed what I was thinking.

  But Roger’s people reported that when Verichenko’s men reached Ploesti, instead of taking the road to Galati, they continued north toward Campina.

  “Isn’t this how we got to the place where Gonçalves and Conkling tried to exchange the egg?” Göndul asked.

  But again, Verichenko’s men kept on going. It wasn’t until they reached the resort town of Sinaia that they turned, taking a road up into the mountains. Roger informed us that a lot of wealthy people had summer cabins in that direction, but it definitely was
n’t summer. Snow covered the country we drove through, and the slick road caused Selinger to slow down.

  While we drove, I emptied one of my paintball guns and refilled it with the demonbane balls. I didn’t want to get caught unprepared again. As I was finishing that task, my phone rang.

  “Kellana,” Antonio said, “there’s a Dragon in Bucharest.”

  I wasn’t sure what shocked me more, Antonio using a telephone, or what he said.

  “What do you mean, a Dragon?”

  “A full-size, big-as-a-jet-airplane Dragon.”

  “What’s it doing?” I had visions of mass casualties.

  “Sitting on top of the Arcul de Triumf,” he said. Bucharest had a copy of Paris’s Arc de Triomphe.

  “Just sitting there?”

  “Yes. Perched up there like a big bird. It’s on all the television stations. The authorities are going crazy.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “I’m a little busy right now, but I’ll call you back.

  Everyone was watching me when I hung up the phone.

  “Antonio says there’s an adult Dragon hanging out on top of the Arcul de Triumf,” I said.

  Selinger laughed. “Why not? Every time I think this thing can’t get any crazier, it does.”

  “No destruction?” Cassiel asked. “It’s not eating the holiday shoppers?”

  “Not yet.”

  We finally caught up with Roger and his Paladins stopped on the side of the road. He indicated a narrow road or driveway angling away up the mountain.

  “There’s a chalet up that direction about half a mile,” he told us. “As far as I can determine, the owners are spending the winter in the Mediterranean. But that’s where they took the blonde woman.”

  We left the cars after blocking the driveway with a large log. I didn’t want another last-minute getaway. It took us some time to climb up to the chalet and scout it. There was a four-car garage with its doors closed, but there were still three SUVs parked in front.

  Dorina, Selinger, and I snuck close to the chalet from three different directions. Göndul provided an illusion to mask the bulk of our forces and they just walked up the driveway.

  When I reached the building, I was able to feel magic, but it was puzzling. There were wards set, not on the walls, but rather somewhere inside the house. I peeked in a window and saw the blonde woman wearing the same red dress she’d worn the previous week when we rescued her. In the back of my mind, I wondered if she wore it because Verichenko said he liked it, or if it was her best dress and it made her feel special, or maybe it was her only nice dress. In a country as poor as Romania, the last option was a possibility.

  Verichenko handed her a glass, and she drank what was in it. He smiled, standing in front of her and waiting. Very shortly, her face went slack, and her body slumped. Verichenko’s smile grew larger. He reached behind her and unzipped her dress, then pulled it down her body and let it drop to the floor. Next, he unhooked her bra and flung it aside, then pulled down her underwear. Picking her up in his arms, he shook each of her legs in turn until her high heels dropped off her feet.

  He turned and walked away from me. Across the room, a man held a door open. Beyond the door, I could barely see a set of stairs leading down.

  I slung my quiver over my shoulder and pulled my bow and sword from my bag. Making my way to the porch, I slithered up the steps and onto the porch. I tried the doorknob and found it wasn’t locked. I pulled my paintball gun loaded with sleepy gas, turned the knob, and edged into the house.

  Verichenko had already disappeared down the stairs, but two of his men remained in the room. I shot them both, and they slumped to the floor.

  A quick check of the rooms off the main room turned up one more thug. I put him to sleep and retreated. Selinger came through the front door and I motioned toward the downward stairs.

  With my mouth almost touching his ear, I whispered, “He took the girl downstairs. I think he plans his ceremony there.”

  Selinger nodded. We crept toward the stairs. The first flight descended to a landing, then the stairs turned. There wasn’t any light in the stairwell, and a solid wall prevented us from seeing around that corner, although we could see a glow of light below us. Without a shred of guilt, I let the battle mage precede me.

  I sketched the rune to invoke a personal shield and held it ready. Selinger reached the landing, made the turn, and disappeared. Nothing obvious happened, so I followed him.

  Halfway down the stairs, the stairwell opened up enough that we could see the room at the bottom. The blonde lay on an altar while Verichenko carved arcane symbols in her skin with an athame. A two-foot-long Dragon hatchling sat next to her in a cage raptly watching. From the way its nose twitched, I was fairly sure it smelled the blood.

  A pentagram was drawn in black around the altar with a tall candlestick at each of the five points. The candles weren’t lit. Beyond that was a circle of what I guessed was white salt. It appeared Verichenko was still preparing, and the ceremony hadn’t started yet.

  I put an arrow to my bow string and tapped Selinger on the shoulder. He turned to look at me, looked at the bow, and nodded. I drew and loosed. The arrow flew straight until it reached the line of salt. The shield deflected it, and although it continued past that point, it caught the mage in the shoulder rather than piercing the middle of his back.

  Verichenko cried out, grabbing his shoulder. Whirling around, he pointed his athame at us, blood dripping from its point, and shouted a short incantation. A flash of light and a sound like thunder erupted in the small basement, but Selinger blocked the spell.

  The blood mage cast another spell, lighting the candles anchoring the pentagram. Another spell caused the salt to glow with a bluish light.

  Selinger cast a stream of blinding plasma at Verichenko, but it splashed on his shield. I fired another arrow, but it shattered when it hit the shield.

  Verichenko snarled at us, then turned back to the woman in front of him. He began to chant, and the candle flames grew higher.

  “Isn’t there anything we can do to disrupt him?” I asked.

  “I’m working on it,” Selinger replied and started a chant of his own.

  I stood there feeling helpless, my mind spinning and trying to figure out something I could do to stop the madness unraveling in front of me. A faint hope crossed my mind that maybe our intervention had disrupted Verichenko enough that he would make a mistake.

  Since I couldn’t bear to watch what he might be doing to the woman, I watched the hatchling instead. It looked just like an adult dragon, but its color was a dull bronze with a copper belly. Some of its back scales were a little lighter in color than the others. I knew that as it grew older its scales would harden, change color, and brighten. The gold and green of the scales on my bag were iridescent and practically indestructible.

  The Dragon watched the woman the way a snake watches a bird. It didn’t blink, but the end of its tail twitched back and forth like a cat’s. The bars of its cage glowed, leading me to think it was spelled.

  With a final strong Word, Selinger finished his chant. Nothing happened. My astonishment and fear must have shown in my face, because he turned to me and said, “The spell worked. I’m sorry that I can’t do anything for the woman, but now we just have to wait. When he finishes, then we act.” He drew his sword and nodded at mine. “You have a spelled blade, do you not?”

  “Yes.”

  “It will work against the hatchling. It will be years before its scales harden.”

  That was comforting to know. Verichenko continued to chant. The wound in his shoulder continued to bleed. I wondered what would happen if he completed the binding but bled to death.

  I looked around the room. It evidently was a game room, and there were a bunch of children’s toys piled in a couple of the corners. In another corner, something glowed softly.

  “Selinger, what is that?” I asked, pointing.

  He peered in that direction, then took a couple of steps down the
stairs as he tried to get a better look. An expression of wonder filled his face when he turned back to me.

  “It’s another egg.”

  I followed him down the stairs. “Are you sure? Whatever it is, there are two of them.”

  Seemingly forgetting about Verichenko, Selinger finished descending the stairs, and hugging the wall, walked around the blood mage and his altar. When he looked back at me, he nodded.

  I rushed down the stairs and past him, but he grabbed me by the arm.

  “Where in the Goddess’s name do you think you’re going?” he asked.

  “To get those eggs.”

  He stared at me like I was crazy.

  “You’re paying me to recover Dragon’s eggs. I might have been too late for one of them, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to leave those two for Verichenko to hatch.”

  I shook free of him and continued to the eggs. As I approached the corner where they sat, Verichenko evidently detected my movement out of the corner of his eye. His chant faltered, but then he caught himself, and his voice grew louder. I noted that his voice was weakening, however. His chant sounded labored as my arrow in his shoulder took its toll.

  I bent over the eggs. One of them was the one I had handled in the clearing before Verichenko stole it from me. The other one was new to me, but both were identical as far their colors and patterns—or as much as they could be with the constant changes sweeping across their surface. With the hatchling, that made three eggs. A whole clutch. I wondered if the Dragon in Bucharest was mommy.

  The cadence of Verichenko’s chanting changed. Selinger swore a vile oath in Elvish, something that a gentleman would never say in front of a lady. I turned and saw the door to the cage open. The hatchling hopped out and began feeding on the woman.

  I wanted to throw up. Instead, I reached down and picked up one of the eggs. The same magical rush hit me as the night in the clearing. I slid the egg into my bag and reached for the other one. As soon as both eggs were in my bag, and therefore technically outside of reality, the feeling of magic in the room changed. I could feel only Verichenko’s magic, and that of Selinger.