The tea kettle burst, and Saba screamed, ducking under her silk sleeves as boiling water showered around her. Malcolm rose with a grunt of disgust, his large form dwarfing the table and the teahouse.
In silence he turned on his heel and marched to the door, which shot up to his height to accommodate him. Malcolm would never humble himself to hunch through a door.
"Malcolm, wait," Saba called after him. She tried to scramble up but the folds of the kimono tripped her, the obi tightening and cutting off her breath. "Don't leave me alone. I'll do it right."
Her gaze fell on the brazier. The flames died away and she looked at the perfect black shapes of ash she'd so labored over. They were growing, stretching into snakes of darkness to fill the brazier and stifle the fire. Dread formed in the pit of her stomach. She recognized the darkness, the same that she'd seen in the house in Pacific Heights, the same from her dreams long, long ago.
She remembered with clarity running through the maze of the dragon archive, the walls that glittered with gold and gems flashing past as her small legs tried to carry her from the horror. She remembered how the darkness had cornered her at the end of the corridor, above which she now knew had lain The Book of All Dragons. How she'd awakened, screaming, in her parents' house in Berkeley, and how the darkness hadn't gone away.
Because it had been real.
She knew it was real now, reaching out from the brazier to surround her and the beautiful wooden table. The fingers of darkness wound about her feet, tearing her robes, and she somehow knew that if it touched her skin, she would die.
She screamed for Malcolm again and tried to run, but the kimono had grown into a huge gown that enveloped every limb. The sleeves flowed well past her fingers and across the floor, and it wouldn't let her move.
Saba gasped and sat straight up in bed, her hands and feet tangled in sheets. The room was quiet, the blind pulled against the afternoon light outside. Her heart beat wildly and her mouth was dry.
Since this was a guest room, there was no call button for the nurse, but there was a phone and Lisa was just down the hall. She reached for the receiver, but forced her hand to stop. Lisa had gone through a terrible ordeal, and she and her babies didn't need to be awakened because Saba had had a bad dream.
Saba withdrew her hand, then froze. She wasn't awake—either that or the fingers of darkness were real. Just as in her childhood dream, the darkness gathered thickly on the floor, tendrils of it oozing up the walls. As she watched in horror it coalesced into a canopy, arching overhead in a parody of one of her witch circles. Then the black bubble began to close.
"Mother Goddess, help me," she prayed with all her strength.
She was no longer four years old and no longer a novice witch and knew something about fighting. She drew a hasty circle with her finger around the bed, wishing she had not left every crystal she owned at home today.
Blue light glowed, keeping the blackness somewhat at bay, but it advanced as though determined to suck her power into itself. She chanted a spell against negativity and darkness, and to her dismay the blackness seemed to pull the banishing spell into itself, growing still larger.
"Goddess, I ask thee for guidance," Saba said desperately. "Holy crap, just help me!"
She felt a shimmer deep inside her as she often did when the Goddess touched her, and there came the answer, one that surprised her. The memories of her past sharpened, and she remembered clapping her four-year-old hands and calling on the Japanese god she had long since forgotten.
Sitting straight up, she clapped three times and shouted in Japanese, "Baku, Baku, come to me! Eat this dream!"
She did not really expect anything to happen but then air displaced with a bang, and there towered the fearsome form of the Baku, lion's head, tiger's legs and teeth, leathery wings, and all. Its enormous dark eyes took in the sheets pulled to her chin, the witch circle that enclosed her, and the darkness outside of it. The Baku snorted, sounding amused.
And then it ate the darkness, just as it had years ago in her bedroom while she'd watched in a toddler's terror. The Baku sucked the darkness into himself and ground it with sharp white teeth, ruthlessly chasing down every bit. As a child, Saba had laughed and clapped, now she simply watched in amazement.
The Baku is real, she thought. Or else I am still asleep, or seriously crazy.
The demon-god devoured every single thread of darkness, then, just as he had when she'd been four, he placed his hands on his round belly and belched.
He laughed at her gaping stare, then he shimmered and morphed into the human shape of Axel. He stood with his hands on his hips, his leather jacket in place, and grinned at her.
"Hello, Saba-chan. You called?"
It took Saba several minutes to find her voice. "You're the Baku," she choked out.
"A Baku," he corrected. "There are many of us. I used to have the entire Berkeley, Oakland, San Francisco area, but now I'm in charge of San Francisco proper and leave the other cities to my assistants. A lot of nightmares out here."
He sank into a chair, crossed his ankles, and patted his now muscular and flat stomach.
Saba decided to file away her amazement of what he was and examine it later. "The darkness was a nightmare then? That's all? Maybe I'm still dreaming, and you didn't really just look like a Baku."
"You're not dreaming," Axel promised. "Yes, the darkness is a nightmare, but something more. A nightmare made manifest. That's not good."
"I saw it in the archives when I was little," she said, "and again in the house where the white dragon killed Rhoda. I was dreaming of it and then it was here. Is the white dragon doing it?"
"I don't know." Axel laced his hands behind his head. "I'm not paid to think, but in this case I've been trying to figure it out. Whatever connection the darkness has to the white dragon, I don't understand, but I bet Malcolm will work it out at lightning speed. He's too damn smart for his own good."
"Where is he?" Saba started to get up, then remembered she wore only her underwear and pulled the sheet higher. "Did I call you away from them?"
Axel shook his head. "The dragons went to check out some leads on the bridge. I decided to go back and search the house in Pacific Heights again in case we missed something. I came up with zip, though. Neither the white dragon nor Annie have been back. I reported the skeletons, by the way. Anonymous tip. Police will be all over that place again by now, and neither Annie nor the dragon will be able to go back without a lot of questions. Maybe now those people can rest in peace."
"You really care about them," Saba said. "I mean more than just human compassion. You grieve for them."
He nodded, his dark eyes filled with anger and sorrow. "You get to know people in this gig. What they fear, who they are deep down inside. You get attached. That's the down side of being a god, you know. You care too much."
"There's an up side, presumably."
He grinned again. "Yeah, I get to do something about it. And I'm ready to kick some ass." He got to his feet. "I'll go make goo-goo noises at the babies while you get dressed, and then you, me, and Lisa will talk. Unless you want to sleep some more."
"No." Saba put out her hand as though staving it off. "I'm no longer interested in sleeping."
"Gotcha. See you in a few."
He sauntered out the door like a normal human being.
Saba blew out her breath as the door closed, thinking rapidly about her dream and what had just happened. Casting a fearful glance at the now bare floor, she hopped out of bed, snatched up her clothes, and began to dress.
* * *
Chapter 18
Malcolm and Caleb found the white dragon several hours after sunset, miles up the coast, where cities thinned out and wilder country began. Malcolm felt him before Caleb did, when the yank on the net of his true name nearly tore him out of the sky.
Malcolm landed in woods overlaid with the smell of lake, and heard the thump of the golden dragon settling in beside him. Malcolm smelled something else, too—deat
h, an acrid taint on the wind.
He pulled on the jeans and coat he'd carried with him and trudged deeper into the woods, Caleb following. Caleb had gone into warrior mode, which meant he'd stopped his inane chatter in order to move in near silence. Golden dragons were the best fighters ever created, and Malcolm was glad to have one at his side, although he'd never tell the already conceited Caleb that.
It was Caleb who stopped Malcolm from plunging into the clearing too soon. His hand on Malcolm's shoulder slowed him, then Caleb quietly stepped around Malcolm with the stealth of a predator and led the way out.
The white dragon—human and dressed—sat on his heels in the middle of the clearing, his back to them. He didn't raise his head when Caleb and Malcolm approached. Caleb came to a silent halt behind him, far enough away so that if the white dragon swung a weapon, Caleb could easily spring out of reach.
"Black dragon," the white dragon said without turning around. "What took you so long?"
"I was surviving," Malcolm replied.
"You were with her!"
"I prefer Saba's company to yours, yes." Malcolm knew what was going to happen and braced himself for it but managed to keep his voice cool.
The white dragon unfolded to his feet. He seemed in no way astonished to see Caleb standing just behind him. "You belong to me, black dragon."
Malcolm looked past him to what the white dragon had been hunched over on the grass. Stretched out, her clothes a pale smudge in the darkness, was the limp form of the witch called Annie. He sent threads of dragon thought toward her and ran into the golden threads Caleb was also sending. They touched the witch at the same time and exchanged a glance.
"She's dead," Malcolm said. The statement was unnecessary—her thoughts were gone, her mind empty, her body a void.
"You killed her," Caleb said. "You'd finished with her, so now she's dead, too."
"I had to!" the white dragon flared. "She was dying. Was it better that I let her die slowly or end it at once?"
Caleb studied the still form of Annie, her open eyes glistening in the dark. "You don't deserve to count yourself as dragonkind. But then white dragons were always bastards."
"I'm guessing you forced her to attempt a door to Dragonspace so you could escape," Malcolm said. "And she wasn't strong enough."
The white dragon said nothing, but Malcolm knew he'd hit upon the truth. A sick feeling crept through the vast self-assurance that was Malcolm—he had coerced Saba on more than one occasion to open a way for him, attempts that well could have failed. That could be Saba's lifeless body lying before him, Saba's sightless eyes meeting his own.
The white dragon's rage exploded like fire. "It was your witch bitch's fault," he shouted at Malcolm. "If she hadn't resisted me, I wouldn't have had to kill this one."
"Her name is Annie," Malcolm said, eyes narrowing. "Not this one."
Malcolm sensed Caleb ready to strike, to kill. He wanted to wring a few more answers out of the white dragon, but had to agree that with the dragon's death many problems would be solved. The only trouble was, because the white dragon wielded Malcolm's true name, Malcolm could not bring violence against him. The slave could not harm the master. Caleb would have to do it.
He gave Caleb the barest nod, and suddenly pain ricocheted through him until he found himself on his hands and knees retching into the damp grass. The power of his true name, sung by his enemy, penetrated every molecule of him, bathing him in fine pain.
"Do not worry," he heard Caleb shout. "Once I smash open his head, he won't remember your name. Or even his own." Caleb laughed, happy to get on with mayhem. "Come on, Roland, let's rumble."
The white dragon had a weapon, a long knife that gleamed evilly in what little light leaked into the clearing. Malcolm concentrated on climbing to his feet. He might not be able to directly harm the white dragon but he could keep him busy while Caleb went in for the kill.
At first he wondered why Caleb didn't simply turn into a dragon and flame him, but he reasoned that Caleb didn't want the white dragon turning into a dragon as well, thus having the chance to fly off and escape. Caleb wanted to pin and finish the white dragon now. Malcolm knew that Caleb probably didn't think this through as Malcolm did—golden dragons didn't reason, they acted.
Caleb acted now. He danced out of reach of the knife, trying to taunt the white dragon into taking a swing so he could get under the man's reach. Malcolm groped in the dark until he found a nice big rock. He couldn't hurt the white dragon, but he could possibly disarm him.
Despite horrible pain that turned his tears to blood, Malcolm threw the rock with deadly accuracy. The white dragon grunted as the stone contacted his hand, and the knife flew from his grip.
Just as Caleb moved in to grapple with him, light flooded the clearing. Above them a helicopter trained a sickeningly bright light on the three men and the dead woman on the grass, and from three sides of the clearing came flashing blue and red lights. Malcolm had dimly heard the helicopter through the roaring in his head but had paid it no heed.
But someone in the human world had definitely gotten edgy enough to call the police. The police had scored a hit finding three men fighting and one woman dead in the clearing.
The white dragon tried to run. A hard, no-nonsense voice shouted, "Freeze," and then came the clicks of pistols at the ready.
Caleb raised his hands. Malcolm kept still; he was in too much agony to do anything else. He sensed the white dragon try to assume his dragon shape and then give up. Dragons had a hard time being dragons in the presence of those who didn't believe.
The police didn't give a damn what they were. They only knew they'd found a possible homicide, and they advanced, black pistols trained on the three of them.
Three policemen and one policewoman surrounded Malcolm, and he felt his hands being pulled behind him, cold metal manacles clasping his wrists.
"This is great." Caleb's voice boomed out over the chopping noise of the helicopter. "I've always wanted to be arrested. Hey, maybe we'll end up on Cops."
Malcolm was suddenly glad he'd been handcuffed, because it kept him from searching for another rock to fling at Caleb.
They were taken to the county jail down a rutted road, Caleb and Malcolm in one car, the white dragon in another. Annie had been strapped to a stretcher and fed into an ambulance, called in as dead on the scene. Malcolm felt sorrow for her passing, so unnecessary and cruel.
They'd been searched for weapons and identification, Malcolm having neither. Caleb carried no weapons, but he had a wallet like the ones humans carried and an actual driver's permit, which must have taken much of Lisa's magic to obtain. The policeman also found in Caleb's pocket a folded photo, printed from a color laser printer at the hospital, of a tired-looking Caleb holding two babies.
"Those are mine," he said proudly. "The one with the yellow hat is Li Na, my daughter, the one in green is Severin, my son. Twins. They were born last night."
One of the policemen made the mistake of saying they were cute. Caleb spent the ride into the county seat telling his captive audience all about his new children. Malcolm closed his eyes, trying to shut out the lingering pain and wishing the police customarily gagged their suspects.
The county jail wasn't large, the block holding only three cells already populated with arrests that night—drunk and disorderly, robbing a convenience store, bar fight, DUI. Caleb frankly told the arresting officer that he would kill the one called Roland if they shared a cell. A fight to the death, he promised.
The officer, trying to hide his alarm, put Caleb and Malcolm in the cell next to the white dragon's. The white dragon was sensible enough to sit on the far side. They wouldn't let Caleb keep the photo of his children, but an officer kindly tacked it up on the wall opposite the cells so he could see it.
Golden dragons, when they weren't fighting, possessed insatiable curiosity and the ability to spread luck and goodwill to those around him. The golden dragon mark began to penetrate this somber place, brightening t
he eyes of the drunks and the police who would rather be home with families than here tonight. Only Malcolm and the white dragon were unaffected—thank the gods for small favors, Malcolm thought.
The arresting officers said each of the three men would have a hearing in the morning, and implied strongly that they'd probably be held over for a murder trial. Malcolm knew that between himself and Caleb they could mark enough people to get free, but so would the white dragon, and the hunt would be on again.
Malcolm got to his feet, ignoring Caleb chatting with his five new friends and walked to the bars that separated their cage from the white dragon's.
"Lisa wants to see you," he said.
He had the satisfaction of watching the green eyes widen in alarm. "I don't want to see her."
"I rather think she doesn't care," Malcolm answered coldly. "It was foolish to try to kill her. A silver dragon is one of the most powerful beings in the universe, and you succeeded in making her angry. They are very protective of their young."
"I didn't realize she had… hatchlings."
Malcolm raised his brows in mock surprise. "You mean you didn't hear him going on and on about it?" He jerked his thumb at Caleb. "You'd think he was the most virile being alive."
"I don't pay attention to goldens," the white dragon spat.
"Foolish, if you want to control all of dragonkind. You should know a little bit about them or you'll find it difficult going."
"Control all of dragonkind?" The white dragon looked surprised. "Why would I want to do that? I can't stand being around dragonkind, especially not you."
Malcolm quieted a moment as he rearranged thoughts in his head. "Then why did you steal the book? You started with me, I assumed you would take Caleb next and go down the line."
The white dragon sneered. "The black dragon who is so intelligent isn't very smart after all. You think too much. I don't want to enslave all dragons. Who would want to stay in Dragonspace all the time to control them? No, I enslaved you, the keeper of the archive."
The Black Dragon Page 21
