Bewitching the Dragon

by Jane Kindred

  Had he let Kur out himself? But that didn’t make sense. He’d spent years keeping Kur in check. Not only was the dragon dangerous, but Dev had been determined to keep his condition hidden from the Covent. It wouldn’t serve any purpose to risk his career and the reputation of the Covent—not to mention people’s lives.

  It seemed more likely that someone else—whoever had tranquilized him—had brought the dragon out for their own purposes. And the only person Ione was sure had been there was Margot. But it didn’t make sense—the magical ambush or the graffiti on Dev’s car. Carter had to be behind the ambush, and he was obviously behind Nemesis. Why would Margot be working with them? There was just no way Ione could have been that wrong about her.

  Leaning back against the surprisingly silky texture of the dragon’s scales—they were slick, like a snake’s—she stared up at the milk of stars. It was easy to forget the spectacular blessings of living in this remarkable place. Ione crossed her arms over her chest and let her mind wander with the constellations.

  * * *

  The next time she blinked, the stars were in a different position. She’d dozed off, and there was no telling for how long. Kur was snoring behind her, producing gentle jets of steam, and either the dragon had tucked his wing around her or she’d nuzzled under it while she’d slept. The faint noise of cars on the distant highway announcing the early work shift said it wasn’t long before dawn. What was she going to do when the morning hikers arrived?

  She wished she knew what trick Dev had used to make himself unseen when he’d followed her into the prison. It couldn’t have been a simple glamour because his physical presence would still have set off the metal detectors with his belt buckle and keys. She’d never glamoured anything to be unseen, anyway. Changing the perception of one’s appearance was one thing, making a person—or a dragon—not appear at all was an entirely different matter.

  The dragon stirred at the deep sigh she let out. Perhaps the tranquilizer was wearing off. Ione wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. But one way or another, she was going to have to get the creature moving, because the headlights of an intrepid early morning hiker were pulling into the parking lot at the trailhead. She probably had a few minutes. They weren’t likely to hit the trail before the sky began to lighten, and it would take them at least as long as it had taken her to hike out to the spot. Somehow in those few minutes she had to get Dev back.

  “Kur.”

  The dragon raised its head, instantly alert.

  Ione rose onto her knees to bring herself to the height of the dragon’s upraised head. “I don’t know how much you understand, but I need you to return to your cage. I know it’s not fair, but I promise you I’ll do what I can to make things easier for you and Dev to coexist.”

  Eyes like glittery caramelized sugar candies narrowed at her and Kur made a soft growl in his throat.

  “Dev said you were bound to me, that you had to obey me. Is that true?”

  With a steamy sigh, the dragon lowered its head to its paws in a gesture of subservience. She took it as an indication that it both understood and agreed.

  “I’d rather you didn’t have to obey me. I’d rather you do what I ask because you want to. But I have to work with what I’ve got.” This prompted a tilt of the dragon’s head that was reminiscent of a dog, apparently tapping the limits of its understanding of human speech. Ione tried to keep it simple. “Do you know how to return to your cage?”

  Kur’s eyes blinked slowly at her, like a purposeful signal for “yes.”

  “Can you do it on your own?”

  The dragon snuffled, nudging its snout into her hand.

  “You need my help.” Ione considered. “Do you need my blood? I don’t have a blade.”

  Once more the dragon nudged her hand, more insistent this time as if she wasn’t understanding. The indistinct gray of the rocks behind him had taken on a pale pinkish glow.

  “I don’t know what to do.” Ione had only uttered the words for her own benefit, not expecting the dragon to understand. It moved its head swiftly, its mouth opening, and Ione let out a slight cry of alarm as it caught the heel of her hand between its teeth. But sharp as they were, the teeth hadn’t pierced her skin. The dragon held her firmly but gently in its grasp. As its golden eyes met hers, it nipped her ever so slightly.

  Ione flinched. “You’re going to draw blood?”

  The amber gaze continued to hold hers, unblinking. The dragon made no move to tighten or loosen its jaws.

  Ione shook her head. “I don’t know what you...” She paused, idly stroking the smooth scales of the dragon’s side, and studied the expectant expression. “You need me to give the order. Or at least permission.”

  The dragon blinked once, slowly.

  Ione took a deep breath and nodded. “You may do what you need to. I give you permission to draw my blood. Do what you must to return to your cage.”

  The prick of a needle-sharp canine pierced her flesh before she’d finished speaking, and Ione couldn’t suppress a gasp of pain. Kur’s eyes had gone sharp and—if she had to put a word to it—hungry. Ione wondered briefly if she’d made a mistake. But the dragon had released her hand. As she stared at the well of blood pooling up out of the puncture wound, Kur began to lap at it with a long, prickly tongue. The sensation was something between ticklish and stinging, and Ione gritted her teeth to keep from jerking her hand away.

  As Kur lapped at the wound, his motions seemed to make the blood flow faster, and the dragon’s eyes had grown alarmingly predatory. It let out a deep growl and lifted its head, and Ione was certain she’d misjudged the situation. It was about to attack.

  “Kur.” She tried to keep her voice calm.

  But the dragon was looking over her head. It raised its snout in the air and opened its mouth—Ione’s blood visible on its teeth—and looked for all the world like a cat that had smelled something that had overwhelmed its senses.

  Boots crunched on the gravel just yards below them.

  Ione turned swiftly. In the predawn light, she could see the bobbing movement of bright-colored clothing through the brush as the hiker approached. She tried to think of an explanation or some way to distract the hiker from coming any closer, but it was too late. The lone hiker, a young hipster with a beard, emerged a yard away, stepping into the clearing.

  He stopped and stared at Ione, his mouth dropping open, and then a blush crept up his face. “Oh. Sorry, I... I didn’t know anyone was out here.”

  It wasn’t exactly the response she’d been expecting. Ione turned to find Dev crouched on all fours—in all his naked, delectable glory.

  Chapter 21

  Ione took off her jacket with as much nonchalance as she could manufacture and draped it over Dev’s shoulders. Not that it covered...anything, really.

  She glanced back at the hiker. “I’m so sorry we alarmed you. My brother has a head injury—he’s just back from Afghanistan. Sometimes his PTSD gets triggered and he’s not sure where he is. I’ve been looking for him all night.”

  “Oh. Wow, that’s rough.” The hiker accepted the story immediately, probably relieved to have a reasonable explanation, and Dev’s wild hair and the out-of-it look in his eyes didn’t make it too hard to swallow. “You need some help?” He was already taking off his pack and offering Ione his water.

  “I think I’ve got him calmed down, but thanks.” Ione took the water and crouched in front of Dev. “You’re okay, hon. You just need to hydrate and we’ll get you home.” From the way Dev eagerly drank from the bottle, it seemed that much wasn’t untrue.

  “If that’s your ride down at the trailhead, you’re probably going to need a little more than that jacket.” The hiker fished a pair of swim trunks out of his pack and handed them to Dev, who took them with a wariness that backed up her story. “They’re not much, but
I won’t be needing these today. It’s gotten pretty chilly.”

  “You’re a sweetheart. Thank you so much.” Ione pulled out her wallet as Dev pushed the jacket back at her to put on the shorts. “Let me reimburse you for those.”

  “Nah, it’s cool. My dad’s a vet. Just giving back, you know?”

  Ione smiled. “You’re a godsend. Thank you.” She took Dev’s hand and prompted him onto the path. “Let’s get you home, babe.”

  The hiker gave Dev an awkward salute and complicated it with a “Peace, dude.”

  Dev, still silent, returned the salute...in the British style, with his palm facing out. The hiker’s eyes narrowed, but he shrugged and let them go on their way.

  Keeping quiet until they were out of earshot, Ione glanced at Dev trudging silently beside her on the path in his bare feet. “You okay?”

  Dev gave a slight shiver as if her words had startled him. “I’m... How’d I get out here?”

  Ione slowed. “You don’t remember?”

  “Not...as such, no.”

  “You flew.”

  Dev came to a stop and stared at her. “I what?”

  “The dragon.”

  His brow wrinkled and Dev pressed his thumb and forefinger against the knot between his eyes. “No. Wait, I... You’re saying I transformed? How?”

  “I was hoping you’d be able to tell me.” Ione started walking toward the parking lot once more and Dev followed. “It wasn’t me, if that’s what you’re wondering. I got a call from Margot Kelley saying something was going on at the temple. And when I got there, you were...well, Kur.”

  Dev continued to look puzzled and somewhat shell-shocked, saying nothing more until they reached the lot.

  He stopped on the asphalt. “You brought your motorbike.”

  Ione nodded. “Hop on.” She unhooked the extra helmet from under the rear seat and tossed it at him, and Dev barely caught it.

  He stared at her in disbelief. “Like this?” He glanced down at his bare chest and feet.

  Ione’s eyes only made it to the chest. Good God, he was absurdly ripped. He kept his clothes on so much she hadn’t really had time to appreciate it.

  “It’s either that or you can walk back by yourself.” Ione didn’t wait for him to reply, mounting the bike and starting the engine. “I’ll drive slow.”

  Dev looked skeptical, but he climbed on behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. She could definitely get used to that.

  “Watch your feet,” she admonished and peeled out onto the road.

  * * *

  Dev’s memories of Kur’s consciousness began to come back to him in blurry watercolor bits as they arrived at the temple. They drifted to him in reverse, the most recent delivered by the taste of blood on his tongue. The image of Kur lapping blood from Ione’s hand stopped him in his tracks as he swung off the bike.

  Ione’s jade eyes regarded him from the seat of the Nighthawk as she removed her helmet. “Are you all right?”

  “I just recalled...” Dev shivered and rubbed his arms. “Kur...bit you.”

  She shrugged, dismounting. “I told him to. It seemed he needed blood to get back in the cage.” Ione put an arm around him and prodded him toward the doors. “Come on. You’re turning blue.”

  One of the outer doors was off its hinges and Dev scanned the upended benches and scattered candlesticks as they entered. A burned-down candle still graced the altar. “Was that me? I mean Kur? Did we do this?”

  Ione started righting the furnishings. “He spooked when I tried to take out the tranquilizer dart somebody shot him with.”

  “Tranquilizer dart...”

  “You don’t remember anything? Any idea who shot you? I can’t believe Margot would have been involved in this.”

  Dev shook his head. Memories that were formed in Kur’s amygdala, embedded by strong, primal emotion, were the hardest to access. But calming ones came more easily.

  He sat on one of the benches after helping Ione tip it into place. “You stayed with Kur.”

  Ione’s eyebrows arched and she tucked her hands into the pockets of her jacket. “Of course I did. You didn’t expect me to leave you out there on your own trapped in the body of a dragon?”

  “It wasn’t me, you understand. I’m not the dragon.”

  “I hate to break it to you, but for all intents and purposes, it is you. You may not be able to control him or be responsible for what he does, but you feel what he feels and I’m sure he feels what you do. If something happened to Kur out there, it would have happened to you. Besides, you told me he was my familiar. That means I have a responsibility to him.”

  “You keep calling the demon ‘him.’ It’s a creature.”

  “For God’s sake, Dev. You’re going to have to come to terms with him. I know you didn’t ask for this, but you share the same physical matter. Somehow. He’s part of you. He’s not a thing, dammit.” Her face was animated with frustration and passion.

  Dev could feel the demon’s affection for her even as he tried to suppress the connection. “You care for it. For him.” He shook his head, unable to express his mixed emotions. Was he actually jealous of Kur? He almost laughed out loud but decided against it in favor of not looking completely mad. Or simple.

  Ione glared. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  “No, n—” Dev cleared his throat. “It’s not a bad thing. It’s just...unexpected. I’ve been at odds with the—with him for so long, and I—” He paused, a distinct memory rising out of the post-transformation fog. “The basement!”

  Ione looked baffled. “The what?”

  “Before Kur took over. I remember what I was doing here. I’d done a ritual to tap into Kur’s fire—his breath, really. I meant to use it to sniff out the source of the necromancer’s new power. And it led me to the basement.” He rose and headed toward the gaping basement doorway, but Ione grabbed him by the arm.

  “Not that I’m not enjoying ogling you, but maybe you should get dressed first.” She picked up his clothes off the floor before the altar.

  Dev raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been ogling me?”

  Ione smiled, a slight pink creeping into her cheeks. “You don’t give me the opportunity often enough.”

  Dev couldn’t help smirking as he pulled his trousers on over the swim trunks. “I’ll have to see what I can do to remedy that.” He put on the shirt but didn’t bother with his shoes, buttoning as he headed downstairs, anxious to see if what he thought he’d discovered in the basement was really there.

  As he stopped at the bottom, Ione arrived beside him and pulled the switch dangling from the bulb overhead to turn on the light. That would have made his last trip easier.

  The smell that Kur’s borrowed senses had uncovered was there, just under the ordinary, dusty, musty smells of the basement. He recognized it now with his human senses: the smell of death.

  Ione glanced at him. “What is it?”

  “Over there.” Dev moved toward the corner he’d been investigating before the demon had overtaken him. The shovel still lay on the floor and Dev paused to pick it up. “This shovel—someone hit me with it.” He wasn’t prepared to concede that the shovel had struck him on its own. “It’s been used recently, you see?” He held out the blade of the shovel and showed Ione the remnants of soil.

  After examining the shovel, she handed it back. “Probably the gardener.”

  Dev shook his head. “No. Don’t you smell it?” Her wrinkled brow said she didn’t. “I suppose I’m still accessing a bit of Kur’s senses. But there’s a scent of decay, organic matter—and not plant.”

  “I’m not sure what you’re getting at. You think Nemesis used the shovel when she strung up the dog?”

  “No, but I suspect the dog was meant to quite literally throw us off t
he scent. To mask what someone was really doing that night.” He lifted his head and sniffed the air. “There’s something else here.” Against the wall, tucked into a space between two sets of shelves, a military footlocker was notable for its lack of dust. On closer inspection, faint lines were visible on the concrete floor before the trunk where it had been dragged forward and pushed back into place. Someone had tried to sweep over them, but the strokes of the broom itself had created a hash-mark effect.

  As Dev moved toward the trunk, Ione made a soft sound of dismay behind him. “God, no. It can’t be.”

  Dev glanced at her. “Can’t be what?”

  She just shook her head, her complexion looking a bit gray in the harsh light of the overhead bulb. He pulled up on the lid of the trunk, but it was locked with a padlock.

  “Are there keys to this thing?” He glanced over his shoulder to find Ione holding out a pair of heavy-duty hedge clippers. Though they weren’t quite made for the task, by applying enough pressure, he was able to snap the shackle of the lock in two.

  After setting the clippers aside, Dev crouched to work out the broken pieces of the lock and pressed up on the front lip of the lid. The smell was the first thing to hit him, though it was relatively mild as such odors went. Ione made a horrified sound and stepped back as he propped the lid against the wall. Something leathery was folded inside the trunk, like an old maintenance worker’s uniform stiff with dirt. Except that Dev knew very well it wasn’t a uniform. It was a desiccated corpse.