Lumi's bicycle shop, in a Chinatown alley off Sacramento Street, was dim and dusty, but the tall, lanky young Chinese man had plenty of bicycles stacked in the back for repair and a number of "sold" tags on high-priced bikes in the front. The shop was doing well.
Malcolm sensed a web of dragon magic over the lintel as he ducked inside the store. Caleb's and Lisa's and a faint lingering whiff of Malcolm's own—lucky magic, Lumi's grandmother Ming Ue would call it. She considered dragons very lucky.
Lumi Juan, who looked up from tightening something with a wrench, obviously thought not all dragons were lucky. When he saw Malcolm he closed his eyes and groaned loudly.
"Just when I thought my life was back together," he said, "you walk in. Lisa promised me you went back to Dragonspace."
"I did."
Lumi straightened up, a rawboned, slender man in his twenties with black hair, a handsome Asian face and eyes that had once seen pain and darkness. Lumi had been invaluable to Malcolm during his last visit, but Lumi had also spent most of that time terrified.
"How is Grizelda?" Malcolm asked politely, naming the young and naive witch who had taken up with Lumi when she'd sensed he was another innocent caught up in the mess. He felt Lumi's affection for her even now.
Lumi held his wrench nervously. "Grizelda is fine. No offense, but why didn't you stay in Dragonspace?"
Malcolm found the remnants of the black dragon threads he'd woven around Lumi's mind eight months ago and gave them a brief tug. "I need your help, my friend."
He groaned again. "Why me? What's so special about me?"
"You know so many people." Malcolm leaned negligently on the counter, easing his touch on Lumi's mind. The winding threads remained, but he had no reason to pull them.
"I used to know people," Lumi corrected him. "I am clean and straight and don't hang with bad people anymore, not even for you. And don't think it's the threat of prison keeping me clean, it's not. It's having to face my grandmother." He shuddered. "No, thank you."
Malcolm suppressed his amusement. The diminutive Ming Ue ruled her family, all far taller than she, with an iron fist. "I am pleased to hear Ming Ue is doing well."
Lumi gave him a dark look. "If you're around again, she'll want to see you. She has a thing for dragons, especially black dragons."
"In China, the black dragon is the emperor's dragon, distinguished by having five claws." Malcolm held up his hand and spread his five digits. "I'm sure your grandmother will be pleased to know you are helping me again."
Lumi growled something under his breath. "What happened to your own contacts? You had quite a following."
Malcolm shrugged. "I still have them, but many were minions who did my bidding because I rewarded them, and I didn't reward them to think. What I need now is information from someone smart enough and courageous enough to help me. You must know someone who is trustworthy, who has brains, who has integrity."
Lumi looked glum. "I do."
Malcolm glanced around at the bicycles carefully arranged, the tools kept lovingly on the bench, the neatness despite the cramped and dark space.
"I will visit Ming Ue," he announced, "and return later today. You will have a contact for me by then."
"You're serious about this?"
"I am serious about everything. I am trying to prevent something bad from happening, and most of all, to keep Saba safe. You want that, too, don't you?"
Lumi didn't flinch under his gaze. "Of course. Saba is a friend."
"Good. Then you will find someone for me."
Lumi heaved a heavy sigh. "Yes, you know I will. Leave it to me."
Malcolm smiled faintly. He brushed his fingers over the counter, strengthening his black dragon magic and twining it with the gold and silver magic already there. Lumi would be well protected and prosperous, whether he liked it or not.
The good thing about database programming, Saba thought as her fingers roved her keyboard, was that it claimed a person's entire attention. Trying to hunt down the bug in a subroutine kept her from thinking about Malcolm and the strong sexual dreams she'd had about him, knowing he wandered her apartment while she slept.
That is, programming kept the thoughts out of the front of her mind. Every time she took a break, even to run to the bathroom, the image of Malcolm naked in the train thrust itself in front of her. She'd shiver, her body warming, at the same time her better senses tried frantically to steer her back to mundane problems in her subroutine.
Last night he'd offered to pleasure her, and she'd been hard-pressed to tell him no. She had determined to resist him if she ever saw him again, but she realized now it had been easier to decide that when he was out of sight. When she'd thought him gone forever, it had been simple to believe she could do without his hot breath on her skin, the skillful way he massaged her through the blankets, the darkening in his eyes that told her he wanted her.
She leaned her forehead against her computer monitor and half-moaned. She had to put him out of her mind. He'd left her; why was she so anxious to relive every touch and kiss? Why did she visualize him doing it all again?
Subroutines, she thought hastily. Subroutines. The cure for an overactive libido.
But subroutines couldn't erase Malcolm from her mind, and she spent the morning going warm then cold, hot liquid pooling between her thighs, her nipples pearling every time she thought of him.
She half expected Malcolm to wait for her at lunch, lurking near the front door as she exited the building. When she did not see him, she made herself suppress feelings of disappointment and hurry half a block to Sylvia's delicatessen. Thank Goddess it was cold and windy, which helped cool her scalding face.
She placed her order and found a seat in the crowded sandwich shop, nodding greetings to the people she saw there day in and day out.
"Saba, how are you?" A blond, crop-haired girl named Mamie slid into the seat beside her and plopped down her paper-wrapped sandwich. "You look distracted." She smiled knowingly. "So, what's his name?"
Malcolm, Saba almost said, then she shook her head, wishing the heat between her legs would go away. "It's no one," she said quickly. "I had a long day yesterday and no sleep last night."
Mamie, twenty-six and man crazy, wasn't satisfied. She lay a well-manicured hand next to Saba's. "What does he look like?"
Saba sighed, giving up the pretense. "Dark hair, beautiful eyes."
"Built?"
"Stacked," Saba said miserably. "With a tattoo."
"Oh, honey." Mamie grinned in delight, then she looked wary. "He's not gay is he? That's the trouble with man-hunting in San Francisco, not only are all the women out hunting with you, but half the men are, too."
"He isn't gay."
Mamie brightened. "Well, aren't you the lucky one? What's his name, have you slept together yet, can I meet him?"
Saba burst into laughter at her friend's eagerness. Mamie was as fierce a matchmaker for other women as she was for herself, often telling Saba, Honey, I might as well get it right for someone else if not for me.
The laughter was a release and a relief, though the tightness inside Saba didn't go away. "He was in my life before, and it didn't work out. I don't expect it to work out now."
"He came back for a reason, right?" Mamie peered at Saba closely. "Or is he no good?"
"It's hard to tell." Saba chewed her sandwich, trying to think. "He wants something, but I'm not sure what."
"Well, I'm going to interpret that as a good sign. He's got you under his skin, and he can't get you out of his mind. He's back to try again."
"You sound like a country-western song," Saba observed.
Mamie picked all the sprouts off her sandwich and ate them with her fingers. "That's because they're so true, aren't they? I have to meet this guy."
"He might pick me up after work. He rode the bus down with me this morning. He's a bit—protective."
"Aw, that's sweet. My last boyfriend couldn't care less if I made it home alive. He lived to lie on my couch an
d eat my food and watch ESPN, which was fine as long as the sex was great. Then he didn't even want to do that." Mamie shook her head. "So I kicked him out. I want my next guy to think sex is the only sport on the planet." She sighed. "But he'll probably be gay."
At least talking to Mamie lightened Saba's heart a little. But only a little. She walked back to work, checking around her not only for Malcolm but keeping a sharp eye out for the white dragon. Malcolm's arrival had somewhat mitigated the terror she'd felt when the white dragon assaulted her, but not entirely.
She recognized that his healing magic had not only made her skin whole again, but also helped heal her mind from the trauma of the attack. But the shock of seeing Malcolm again and the disturbing eroticism of him on top of a lack of sleep was taking its toll. She was surprised she could still walk and speak coherently.
She got back to her glassed-walled cubicle a bit early, so she threw her purse into her drawer and made a phone call.
"Saba!" a deep voice roared on the other end. Saba held the phone a few inches from her ear and hoped the entire building couldn't hear him. "How is our favorite witch, today? Lisa is resting. The baby is moving much."
Pride burst from Caleb's voice at the fact that his wife was eight months pregnant, muted only by a note of worry. Saba knew that his first son had been cruelly murdered long ago and that Caleb couldn't quite hide his fear of losing something so precious again.
"That's all right, don't disturb her," Saba said quickly. "I called to talk to you. I need to ask you something."
"Shoot," Caleb answered. "Malcolm isn't being a bastard, is he? I'll kick him in his dragon balls if he is."
"So far, he's fine," Saba answered, crossing her fingers. "I wanted to ask you about white dragons."
Caleb didn't answer right away. Saba pictured his handsome face: the usually messy golden mane of hair, the large blue eyes contemplating the view of the Presidio from his and Lisa's apartment window.
"Why?" he asked finally, the usual good-humored note gone. "White dragons are evil, Saba. Stay away from them."
"I met one on the train, yesterday. He knew my name." Quickly she outlined the incident, including using the dragon's tears to bring Malcolm to her rescue. Then, she added, "Malcolm is worried about what he wants, but he didn't explain much to me. Tell me about white dragons."
"Frost dragons," Caleb rumbled. "Creatures of ice who inhabit the northern climes of Dragonspace, a place like the Arctic of your world, but even colder. They are great dragons, like the golden and black, very magical, but coldblooded. Nasty, vile creatures. Stay away from them."
His description lowered the temperature in Saba's cubicle a few degrees. "Why do you think one would come here? If they like ice, San Francisco should be too warm for them."
"Whatever the reason is, it's sinister. I'll tell Lisa, and we'll pour some extra magic around you to keep you protected."
"You're sweet, Caleb."
He snorted. "How many times do I have to tell you golden dragons are not sweet! I'm a warrior, a badass. I kick ass. Sweet." He trailed off into mumbling, but Saba heard the note of amusement behind his growling tone.
She felt a pang of envy that she tried to subdue. Caleb and Lisa were happy together, with the kind of quiet happiness that meant hand-in-hand walks in the park, sharing ice cream cones, and best of all, making deep satisfying love in the dark of the night. The two together performed some of the most powerful magic Saba had ever beheld, and yet the small glances between them spoke of happiness that had no fanfare but could not be shaken.
Caleb and Lisa's relationship reassured her that there could be true love in the world, but also reminded her that quiet and Malcolm didn't go together. Her prior relationship with Malcolm had been turbulent and maddening, and his sudden appearance in her apartment last night had been just as nerve-wracking.
"Malcolm is looking into the frost dragon problem," Saba said. "That's why he came back." She sensed other reasons, but she wasn't ready to talk about what she sensed.
Caleb muttered more dragon words under his breath. "If a black dragon is worried, it's bad. I'll talk to Lisa," he promised again, then they said good-bye.
Saba hung up and brought her computer out of hibernation. Picturing facing another four hours of horny madness, she reminded herself to focus entirely on work. Subroutines. Not Malcolm.
A few tears swam in her eyes and the lines of code in her pop-up windows blurred. Her treacherous imagination again pictured his upright body as he stepped through the white light on the train, how every limb and muscle had been in perfect, beautiful proportion.
Drawing a ragged breath she shook her head and made herself click open her e-mail. At least a dozen people had sent messages while she'd been at lunch, with subject lines varying from details of their last meeting to who was collecting for the receptionist's birthday lunch.
Good. Inane e-mails were like a cold slap in the face. She clicked open a message without a subject and froze.
One line in capital letters faced her on the screen. She instantly knew damn well who had written the words, even though the address showed nothing but a string of cryptic numbers.
The e-mail read: "IT WAS NICE MEETING YOU ON THE TRAIN, WITCH. I LOOK FORWARD TO TASTING YOU AGAIN."
Malcolm's visit to Ming Ue in her unprepossessing dim sum restaurant in a Chinatown alley went much as he predicted. Ming Ue, an elderly Chinese woman with vibrant black eyes, bowed low to Malcolm, then shouted at her long-suffering nephew to bring out the best food and tea for the honored black dragon.
As at Lumi's bicycle shop, the dim sum restaurant was overlaid with golden dragon magic and Lisa's silver magic, bringing luck and prosperity to all within. Last summer, Malcolm had paid for repairs and upgrades to Ming Ue's restaurant after a band of demons had trashed it. He'd woven his own magic into the foundations before he'd departed for Dragonspace, making the place stronger than ever.
Despite the upgrades to the building, the interior of the restaurant looked much the same. As he took his seat, Malcolm glanced at the recently painted white walls hung with black paper cuttings in approval.
"You did not overmodernize," he said.
Ming Ue scrunched her lips. "My customers don't want an upscale chichi restaurant. They want good dim sum. Chichi is for yuppies."
Ming Ue's nephew, Shaiming, brought out a pot of fragrant tea and a platter heaped with dim sum, smiling shyly as he dispensed the treats. Ming Ue poured tea for him, and Malcolm waited politely, knowing that Ming Ue thought it an honor to serve him.
Malcolm lifted the warm teacup to his lips and drank, mouth and nose bathed in steam. He swallowed, closing his eyes briefly. "An excellent tea. You are wise, Ming Ue."
"I know that," she said, black eyes snapping. "I also know you would not have come here without purpose, black dragon. Black dragons are powerful and vastly intelligent creatures, easily bored by a back street dim sum and tea shop."
"On the contrary." Malcolm lowered the teacup and looked interestedly at the spread of food brought for him. "Black dragons can spend much time contemplating the flavor and aroma of every different kind of tea grown in your world, past and present. We can spend days on this pursuit, comparing, sorting, classifying. And then we can start with the dim sum."
"I've always known black dragons were true gentlemen," Ming Ue said, heaping sui mai and ha gow dumplings on his clean white plate. "But even so you did not come here to compare my pot stickers with Auntie Mim's on Bush Street. Mine are much better, anyway. She caters to tourists."
"I did come to seek out your wisdom," Malcolm replied. "And to taste your most excellent food."
"Flatterer." Ming Ue gave him a dark look, but he could tell she was pleased. "What can I, a powerless old woman, do?"
Ming Ue was a long way from being a powerless old woman, and they both knew it. Malcolm acknowledged her modesty with a nod.
"I may need your help before all this is out," he explained. He outlined the story of the white dragon, a
nd Ming Ue shook her head. "White dragons, they are trouble. I will heed your warning and be on the lookout for him. Lumi…"
"Is under my protection and is already helping me. Saba was vulnerable on that train under the bay, and she has learned to resist my mark. You will help me in protecting her?"
Ming Ue smiled. She liked Saba. "Of course. The Japanese girl is a friend to dragons, and she will become a great mage." She leaned over the table and peered at him. "But who protects you, black dragon?"
He felt faint surprise, but realized he shouldn't have. Ming Ue was a wise woman, and she no doubt sensed what Malcolm had, that he was weakening. "I am still quite powerful," he said.
"But not so much as you once were, am I right?"
"Yes, you are right," he replied, quietly holding the small teacup in his great hands. "And I do not know why. It troubles me most that I do not know why."
"You need her." Her dark eyes twinkled: "You need Saba."
"Yes," he repeated. "Convincing her will not be easy. It is this for which I need your help."
"Ah." Ming Ue pondered, her face alight with enjoyment. "There I might have an idea. Saba likes folk stories—her grandfather told her many tales of ancient Japan and of the Japanese gods, and she likes to hear my stories of China and the palaces of the emperor. Perhaps if we make you into a fairy tale, she will like that."
Malcolm couldn't resist the chuckle, even though his thoughts remained troubled. "You are a devious woman, Ming Ue."
"I have learned to be. I will help you if you do something in return for me."
"Name your price," Malcolm said.
She smiled, her face a mass of wrinkles. "A wise black dragon would not promise so fast, but my price is not high. It is Chinese New Year in a few weeks. We will be part of the festivities in Chinatown, and I want you there, to help carry the dragon. Imagine what luck New Year's will bring with a black dragon to see it in."
Malcolm bowed his head once and gave his word. Then Ming Ue lowered her voice so her customers would not overhear and leaned to him over the table, outlining exactly what he should do in order to recruit Saba to help him.
The Black Dragon Page 4
