The Dastardly Dragon Killer and the Poisoned Breath

by Kelly Ethan

  Xandie grabbed hold of the side of the booth and slid to a sitting position. She had no choice, her position as the librarian was, once again, under fire.

  “Bartender, I’ll take that drink now.” Xandie slumped and stared off into space.

  Some days she wished she could go back to a plain old human...

  Sometimes.

  Nine

  “Dragon stalking is a thing now with the youngsters, hey?” Elspeth hip-shoved her daughter, Amelia, out of the way and settled in front of the window.

  Amelia scowled and stomped over next to her sister, Winifred.

  “Surveillance, not stalking.” Holly adjusted the blinds of the bakery picture window. Then opened the gap to peer out at Main Street.

  “Surveillance, court order. Same thing.” Elspeth waved the definition way and guzzled from a rhinestone-bedazzled flask.

  “And that’s why you’re not allowed within a hundred meters of old man Herb.”

  “Lila Harrow, you know full well I was just brushing a bee off him.”

  Lila threw her hands up in disgust. “He was inside the church at the time and it was a fly, not a bee.”

  “It could have been. I’m old. I get confused.” Elspeth cackled and snapped her fingers like a crab’s pinchers. “Besides, you’d think a descendant of Hercules would have some gumption.”

  Amelia, Elspeth’s oldest daughter, covered her eyes and breathed long and slow before opening and focusing on her daughter, Lila. “She won’t listen. Just give in and practice your apologies to the town. That’s what we do.”

  Priss snorted her coffee, spraying the back of Xandie’s neck. “Wish she was my grandmother,” Priss whispered to Xandie.

  Wiping the back of her neck, Xandie took a sip of hot chocolate. She was used to people’s reactions when they met Elspeth. Wouldn’t be the first time someone sprayed drink on her over Elspeth’s antics. Her mother had never mentioned the Harrows, Elspeth or anyone from Point Muse. It was as if the woman had blotted out her past and made herself over to make her husband happy. And that was the problem.

  Xandie was five when her mother disappeared, but she still had memories of their family. Of her mother and father cuddling in the kitchen or having a picnic outside. It was only after Miranda Harrow’s disappearance that her father had become the emotionless, pompous librarian she knew now. Xandie stared at the table, tracing the cracks in the surface over and over.

  “Try living with her.” Holly grimaced and added, “Or my mother. The dead are more restful than those two together.”

  “You’re spending time with the wrong dead people, sweetie. Trust me, some of them are real partiers.”

  “A penny for them, cousin?” Lila tapped the table to get Xandie’s attention.

  “Not sure about the value of my thoughts yet. I’ll let you know.”

  “Are you okay, Xandie?”

  She grimaced. “I’m okay.” Xandie made a decision and leaned close to Lila, lowering her voice, “I took a call from a troll investigator a couple days ago. Sera paid him to investigate my mother’s death.”

  Lila whistled. “Wow, I had no clue Sera had done that. What did he say?”

  “That’s the thing. He wanted the rest of his fee and told me he had a file on my mom. I did tell him about the Sanguis knight, but he said there were still unanswered questions about her death. Well, he called it supposed death.”

  “What will you do?”

  “Pay him his money, I guess.”

  “And the file?”

  “What file are you nattering about, favorite grandchild?” Elspeth raised her voice from where she stood at the window.

  Lila shook her head and yelled back, “A file about your criminal activities. Xandie’s connected, she knows all about your scams.”

  “The dead tell no tales.” Elspeth cackled and turned dramatically, pointing a painted nail, complete with a skull etched on it, at Xandie. “Are we spying or not? I got things abrewing.”

  Xandie flashed a small smile of thanks at Lila for her misdirection. Then she settled her drink on the table and joined her family at the bakery window. “Dragons have been coming in the last two days since the rat incident.” Xandie shot an accusing glare at Elspeth, putting her mother’s death and the troll’s investigation on the back burner. For now.

  “Hex me. I forgot I had the pipe. It’s not my fault.” Elspeth dramatically threw her hands up.

  “It’s not your fault you collect cursed objects used to attack your granddaughter?” Lila wondered out loud.

  “Depends on the granddaughter, I guess.” Elspeth bared her teeth, cackling to herself.

  “Sometimes, Mother, I wonder why we haven’t been run out of town with flaming torches.” Winifred sniffed a cotton wedge of material soaked in lavender oil.

  “They wouldn’t dare. I know where all the bodies are buried, of course.” Elspeth took a drag from her hip flask again before turning to Priss. “So halfling, you met the dragon bi...” Elspeth coughed. “Ah, dragon beast? The head honcho, Marjorie, yet?”

  “No. I’m kind of avoiding dragons right now. The police have cleared me officially of being a suspect in Archibald’s death, though.”

  “Considering the dragon jam out the front, I think you’ll be able to blend in with the crowd at the funeral anyway.” Elspeth nodded at the backup of black cars jamming Main Street. Waiting for the one stoplight in town to change.

  Xandie checked her watch. “We have an hour before the funeral starts. Plenty of time to head back to Harrow house and change into our funeral finery.”

  Elspeth pushed away from the window and exclaimed grandly, “I decided my grandchildren would benefit from my protection at the funeral. I even have my special cape washed and ready to go.” She lowered her raised arms and paused, as if waiting for the gratitude to pour forth.

  Holly groaned and begged her mother, Winifred, with pleading hands outstretched, “Mom, please. Not the cape.”

  “Now, now, dear. If your grandmother wants to be involved in your life, we have to encourage it.” Winifred smile beatifically at her daughter. “Especially when it’s your lives, not ours.”

  Amelia smiled and agreed. “She’s your responsibility now. Just don’t take your eyes off her and that hip flask. She doesn’t know when to say no.”

  Everyone turned and stared at Elspeth, surprising her mid chug. “What can I say? You’re here for a good time, not a long time.” She jiggled her flask, listening for a lack of slosh. “Anyone got any witchshine I can top this up with?”

  Xandie couldn’t help thinking Archibald’s funeral wasn’t going to end well.

  “Pink velvet hooded cape with pockets isn’t exactly funeral attire or blendy.” Xandie created a new word on the spot as she stared gob-smacked at her grandmother’s attire.

  “Elspeth doesn’t do subtle.” Lila rolled her eyes at her grandmother’s antics. “You should have realized that when you saw her name bedazzled on the back of the cape.”

  Xandie muttered under a breath, “Someone needs to kill that bedazzler permanently.”

  “Can’t.” Holly shook her head. “She enchanted it. Any time someone other than Elspeth touches it, the damn thing screams blue murder. We’ve given up sabotage attempts.”

  Elspeth sidled up to a crony and offered her the flask. The fluorescent pink-haired octogenarian glanced around and then chugged a healthy portion of the liquid before passing it back. The women cackled together and slunk off to hunt down more cronies for their coven of bright-haired flask drinkers.

  Priss shook her head in amazement. “I can honestly see Elspeth taking over a small country and establishing her own dictatorship based on the religion of hip flask drinking.”

  “I think she did that when she was young already.” Lila hooked arms with Priss and casually ambled around the crowded side lawn of the Elysian Fields Funeral Home.

  Grecian columns, white stone and marble covered the funeral home. “It looks like a Greek temple,” Xandie whispe
red to Holly as they moved around other funeral goers.

  “It was founded by a Greek guy called Charon. Now his descendants run the place. Hector and Hillary are brother and sister and both necromancers. I’ve learned a lot from them.” Holly smiled slightly and patted a column. “The place grows on you.”

  Xandie hid the shiver that ran along her spine. A funeral home wasn’t a place she’d ever get used to. But with Holly being part banshee, death was a normal event for her. “Have we spotted Marjorie yet?”

  Priss dropped back to Xandie and Holly and pointed at the altar of wood built to house the body of Archibald atop it. “Archibald’s mom arrived earlier. She’s standing with Marjorie near where Archibald is laid out.”

  A curvy, silver-haired blonde, fashion plate in a dark magenta pantsuit, stood near the Penne family matriarch, shaking hands with a funeral guest.

  “Apparently the dragons burn their fallen on a wood platform. The head of the family uses her flames to set it on fire. Sort of like a Viking burial, I guess.” Priss shrugged, pretending her non-interest.

  “Marjorie looks like an iron maiden.” Lila walked up and snuggled between Holly and Xandie. “Dark gray pantsuit. Check. Every strand of her silver bob in place. Check. Make up. Check. Requisite scowl. Check. Check. Check.”

  Xandie fought the urge to stand up for the grieving grandmother. “She just lost her grandson. Murdered. I can’t imagine she’d be happy to socialize.”

  “My grandmother hates socializing at any time, but she loves a good game of poker. Elspeth’s a regular visitor to the compound.” Es Penne popped up, without warning, next to Xandie.

  “Figures. Elspeth loves fleecing rich people.” Holly snorted.

  Xandie smiled at the idea of Elspeth fleecing a dragon.

  “Not much fleecing going on. I think they just love gossiping about everyone,” Es whispered to Xandie. “I couldn’t find that cup or cauldron thing you told me about. But there are plenty of things in Gran’s hoard that don’t belong to us. What do we do?” Es looked worried for her gran as she fiddled with the flounces of the high-neck black Victorian blouse she’d paired with tight black pants and chunky combat boots.

  “Just keep an eye out for Marjorie. The police still haven’t found Iris yet. Maybe everything will be fine,” Xandie offered hopefully.

  “There’s a locked door in the hoard room. I couldn’t get into it. I’ll pick the lock after the funeral and have a look.” Es raised a hand to her grandmother and drifted off in her family’s direction.

  “She seems to be coping okay.” Priss nodded in the direction of the teenager.

  Lila agreed. “I don’t think they were close. Archibald was a lot like his mother, Belle. Always looking for the next big payout. There wasn’t much love lost between him and Es. She’s a teenager and he couldn’t see any way to use her yet. At least that’s the impression she gave me.”

  Xandie watched the way Es hovered over her grandmother and ignored her aunt. “No love lost there either. I’d have thought Adelind and Ronald would be here socializing up a storm.”

  Holly casually pointed to the left of the funeral home. Adelind and Ronald, not a hair out of place after the rat attack, having a heated exchange.

  “Love to be a fly on the wall of that conversation.” Xandie would have traded Theo to hear what the couple argued about. Adelind finished talking and flicked her husband’s hand off her arm before storming elegantly off to stand with her family. Ronald adjusted his dove gray tie and disappeared off to the car park.

  “Now where is he heading off to?” Xandie’s musings were caught short as Marjorie Penne stepped forward and held up a hand for quiet.

  “Thank you to everyone, both Point Muse residents and others, for attending today to celebrate Archibald Henry Penne’s life and death.” Marjorie paused for a moment, her stone facade crumbled at the edges. She pulled herself together and continued, “Our clan has specific cultural requirements for a funeral that will be carried out in private later. Please join us in honoring our clan member with respect and compassion. Of course, refreshments will also be offered at Penne house afterward.” Marjorie stopped speaking as Adelind whispered into her ear. She cleared her throat and continued, “Limited refreshments. Thank you.” The Penne clan stepped back toward the wood bier holding Archibald’s body.

  The throng of mourners surged forward. Gathered around Archibald. Xandie and the girls were swept up with everybody else.

  “Holly, what does the Cauldron of Dagda look like?” Lila frowned, peering out at Archibald.

  “I told you. Round, rusty, raises the dead.” Holly rolled her eyes.

  “You mean the same rusty round thing that’s currently clutched in Archibald’s dead moving hands?”

  “What?” Holly squeaked the word and shook her head mumbling. “No. No. Not happening. Dead is dead.” Holly rocked back and forth on her feet, hands over her eyes.

  Xandie pulled Holly’s hands away from her face. “Not the time to close your eyes, Holly. When the crowd realizes what’s happening, there will be a stampede.”

  Sightless, silver eyes met Xandie’s stare. Holly’s banshee genes had activated in the middle of a funeral. “The dead will drink from the un-dry cauldron. Sipping on life while devouring the flesh.” Holly intoned the words before shrieking loudly.

  Mourners around them moved away from Holly when they heard the shriek. Banshees had appeared in Point Muse before, just never in the middle of a funeral for a murdered dragon.

  Lila rubbed her cousin’s back. “Holly, you okay?”

  Holly grimaced. “Yeah, that hasn’t happened before. Normally I see people dying, not have full-on speaking visions.”

  “Who’s a good death girl.” Elspeth hung an arm around Holly’s neck and squeezed her in a one-arm hug. “I knew the Harrow blood would come through that wimpy banshee stuff. Proud of you. Have a drink.”

  Elspeth shoved the hip flask at Holly.

  Surprised, Holly took a sip and stared shocked at Elspeth. “That isn’t witchshine? That’s iced tea.”

  Elspeth snatched the flask back. “Quiet, you’ll ruin the cred. Besides, do you really think I’d drink while on protection duty?”

  “What cred, Elspeth? The crazy, chaotic, moonshine-guzzling hex-making grandmother Harrow we all know and love? Kind of.” Lila grabbed the flask, took her own swig.

  “Yeah, that cred,” Elspeth growled and took the flask back, hiding it in her sagging cleavage. She twitched the pink velvet cloak back over her head. “Now, where’s the waking dead guy?”

  Xandie gestured to the front where the crowd had now backed away from Archibald’s twitching body. “We think he has the Cauldron of Dagda. Holly told us it had disappeared from the necromancers who owned it.”

  Elspeth hitched up her pants and dragged out something that had been hidden underneath her cloak. She threw bottles filled with salt at her granddaughters. “Arm up, girlies. We’re going into battle.” Elspeth cracked her knuckles.

  Holly grinned. “Of course, salt. Salt purifies the living and the dead and it breaks the connection to the cauldron. You’re amazing, Gran.” Holly hugged Elspeth tight.

  “Harrow blood will out, sweet pea. That’s the Harrow vision you had.” Elspeth patted Holly on the back and extricated herself from the hug. “Now let’s kill dead people.”

  “Elspeth? There’s only Archibald. We don’t need all these bottles of salt for just him.” Xandie held out her bottle.

  Cackling, Elspeth pointed over Xandie’s shoulder at the group of dead people currently shambling toward the funeral bier. Mourners finally noticed and screams rang out around the grassy area. People scattered in every direction. Elspeth took off toward the group of walking dead, yelling over a shoulder, “Get the cauldron off Archibald and salt it.” Elspeth backed up and then sped off at a pace belying her age.

  Xandie watched her octogenarian grandmother take a ninja leap into a gaggle of the walking dead.

  “Geronimo.”


  Ten

  Xandie ducked between mourners as she raced for a dead man who stopped to terrorize Es Penne. Xandie readied her salt bottle for a swing but dropped it as Es flamed the corpse. She lifted her salt-water bottle again when he continued to stumble toward the dragon teenager. Xandie squealed and flung the contents at the living-compromised man. The salt stuck and burned deeper than the dragon flames had.

  The older man wobbled for a moment and then collapsed in a smoking pile at Es Penne’s feet. She stared at the figure. “In the movies when zombies get set on fire, they die. I guess real life isn’t like a TV show.” Es took off at a run toward her family.

  “Sometimes I wonder about Point Muse. A secret reality TV show would explain so much about this town.” Xandie surveyed the battleground. Most of the mourners had fled and the Braun family had enclosed the funeral home with barricades and salt. The owners of Elysian Fields were necromancers and were on the roof of the main building chanting. But they’d had little luck in controlling the dead so far. The cauldron controlled the dead and until they salted it, the undead residents of Point Muse were funeral crashers.

  “Xandie,” Priss yelled and waved her over to the side of the building. “We took down half a dozen zombies, but they keep coming.”

  “When it’s a cemetery, I guess they have the numbers. Is everyone okay?”

  “Yeah, they’re slow so we can avoid them. Most people left, except the necromancers, the dragons and us. And the police are staying next to the barricades.” Priss open and closed a hand. “I wish I had my sword.”

  Xandie shuddered. “Wouldn’t help. Then there’d be pieces still trying to eat us.” She pointed to stray body parts moving on the grass. “Salt is the only thing that works. We need to salt the cauldron.”

  Priss nodded. “Right. Any idea where it is?”

  “The last time I saw it, Archibald had it. So, wherever he is?” Xandie peered past the building. The Harrows had split up and were salting in different areas. Marjorie, Es and Belle Penne were in one corner near the barricades, using flames to keep the walkers back from the car park. Ronald and Adelind holed up next to Archibald’s bier.