Bewitching the Dragon

by Jane Kindred

  Rafe lifted his head. “What do you mean?”

  “As quetzal, you have a certain amount of contact with the unseen world, what some would call the netherworld—or hell, to be vulgar.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I can’t go there myself. I can’t do anything to free her from Hamilton’s control.” He drew his shoulders up. “Except kill her and destroy her bones by fire.” His face was set like cold stone. “That’s what I have to do.”

  “No, no. Just wait. Please hear me out, and don’t do anything rash. Not until I try what I have in mind. With your help.”

  The stony expression remained, as though Rafe had already made up his mind. “Which is?”

  “The demon inside me—when it’s dormant, or ‘caged,’ it returns to its natural realm, though trapped within my physical matter. When I’ve traded places with it, my consciousness has been severely depressed, but I’ve still been aware of being in that state, that realm. I believe if my body were temporarily incapacitated and rendered unresponsive—in essence, in the same state Phoebe is in now—that both Kur and I could move about within his realm unfettered. Once there, I could reach Phoebe’s soul and bring her back with me. When you wake me.”

  Rafe’s dark brows drew together. “Are you out of your mind? You want me to put you into a coma?”

  “With all due respect, your plan is to smother and immolate your girlfriend. I think mine is better.”

  Rafe considered for an instant. “All right. What do I need to do to incapacitate you?”

  Dev raised an eyebrow. “Under other circumstances, I might be a bit offended that you capitulated so quickly. But I think you’ve made the right choice. The comatose state will need to be magically induced so that you can bring me out of it.”

  He laid out his plan, based on the same magic Laurel herself had used. He’d had a moment to talk to the girl in private to get the details on the drive. Besides the incantations and the specific elements of the spell—namely, a lock of his hair collected to anchor his shade to Rafe—a sufficient blow to the head to induce what would otherwise be transitory unconsciousness was key. Whether Kur would cooperate once Dev had stepped out of his physical body remained to be seen. He ran the risk of setting the demon loose, but for Ione’s sake, it was a risk he had to take.

  Dev steeled himself, expecting Rafe to strike him with the tire iron Dev had brought with him, but a blow to the side of his head from a bare fist and the recoil of the back of his head against the wall beside him did the trick.

  He became aware once more as Rafe uttered the incantation and ordered him to come forth. Dev shivered as though cold—as if he could somehow feel the air flowing through his disembodied form. Looking back at his body slumped in the chair was unnerving.

  “So now what?” Rafe, with the eyes and ears of the quetzal that allowed him to see and hear shades, spoke to him as if addressing Dev’s shade was no different than addressing a living man. “How do I help you make contact?”

  “I think you need to officially commend me to the netherworld.”

  “You think?”

  “Laurel wasn’t privy to how Hamilton was keeping Phoebe from coming to you, but it’s the only explanation that makes sense to me. That he’s keeping her in the realm of the dead when he’s not...”

  Rafe’s eyes darkened. “Not what?”

  “I was going to say, when he’s not—using her.” He hastened to continue as Rafe’s eyes seemed to crackle with fire around the edges. “But I sincerely doubt he’s doing anything approaching the more unsavory connotations of that word. Laurel said he intended to force Phoebe’s shade into her body to control them both, and I believe his intentions were to use the catalyst of Laurel’s demon blood to give him the power to come after you.”

  Rafe’s mouth twisted with anger. “The catalyst that awakened the power of the quetzal was sex with Phoebe.”

  “Ah.” Dev swallowed, though he had no true throat to swallow with—or saliva to swallow, or air to breathe, for that matter, all of which were equally unsettling. “Sorry, mate. I suppose we’d best get on with this, then, and bring her home.”

  Rafe nodded and clasped the wrist on which he wore Dev’s fetish—also a tad unsettling—as he invoked his deities. “Mictlantecuhtli and Mictecacihuatl, Lord and Lady of the Underworld, I send you the soul of one who walks between the worlds. Grant him entry that he may seek the soul of Phoebe Carlisle within your domain.”

  Dev stepped back into his unconscious body to enter the virtual cage, the door through which he hoped Kur’s currency as a denizen of the realm would buy him safe passage. In an instant the grayness of the cage’s ordinary formlessness gave way to a cool, dark corridor. Perhaps his human mind simply supplied the form based on his concept of the netherworld, but it looked for all intents and purposes like a subterranean cave. And Kur was prowling beside him.

  Dev nodded to the demon, his spine tingling slightly with apprehension. “Cheers, mate.”

  The demon returned a deep purr-like growl that seemed to be a greeting. At least, he hoped it was a greeting and not a threat.

  “I don’t suppose you know how to find Phoebe?”

  The demon cocked its dragon head to one side.

  “Ione’s sister.”

  That seemed to do the trick. Raising his snout into the air and sniffing, Kur began to lumber forward. Dev followed, hoping the dragon hadn’t simply scented dinner. Which begged the question, if the demon ate meat in the human realm, what did it feast on within its own? On second thought, Dev didn’t really want to know.

  They plodded through the dank passageway for what seemed like more than a mile before at last taking a turn that opened into a large, domed chamber. The earthen walls seemed to give off their own phosphorescence. Dev paused, his eyes adjusting to the relative light of the space after the darkness of the passage. At the far end, before a wall that trickled with water, a pair of thrones made of bone—with skulls for headrests—was occupied by a diminutive but somewhat stout couple whose faces, though flesh, revealed the skulls beneath them. Dark, beetle-like eyes gazed out at him from the sunken sockets.

  Despite his experiences with Simon and his belief in magic within the practice of the Craft, Dev didn’t subscribe to any religious tradition. But these two were clearly Rafe’s Lord and Lady of the Underworld, the Aztec gods the other man had invoked.

  Dev gave them a slight bow, uncertain what the proper protocol was here.

  “You come seeking one who is not dead and yet not alive.” Neither of their mouths had moved and Dev couldn’t be sure who was addressing him.

  “That’s correct. I seek the soul of Phoebe Renée Carlisle. The mate of the quetzal.”

  “She has not come here of her own free will.” Again, the mouths remained motionless. “Her soul is bound to another.”

  “Through trickery and deceit,” said Dev.

  “As you are bound to the demon beside you through trickery and deceit.”

  Dev glanced at Kur, who was crouched into a compact shape like a cat. “Yes, that’s true.”

  “And you wish to take the soul of the woman, breaking the unnatural bond that holds her here, to return her to the world of the living.” This time the female of the couple had spoken aloud, shifting on her throne in an uncannily lifelike departure from the breathing statuary she’d seemed a moment before, the straight black hair on her translucent scalp sparkling in the phosphorescent glow as she moved.

  Dev nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I do.”

  Mictecacihuatl swept her arm outward. “Come forth, Phoebe Renée Carlisle, mate of the quetzal.”

  Phoebe materialized before the throne, a chain around her neck, which the Lady of the Underworld held in her hand. Dev’s brow wrinkled at the costume Phoebe’s soul seemed to be wearing. He’d entered the realm in the clothes he’d had on when Rafe had knock
ed him out, but Phoebe was wearing some sort of bathing suit made of metal, like a skimpy suit of armor.

  Dev felt the heat in his cheeks as he recognized it. She was curled up on her hip before the throne like Princess Leia in Jabba the Hutt’s lair. Whether this was another of his own mental inventions or whether Carter Hamilton had enslaved her soul with the Princess Leia slave-girl fantasy in mind, he wasn’t sure he wanted to examine. Whichever it was, he certainly wasn’t going to mention it to Rafe or Ione once he’d freed Phoebe’s soul.

  “Phoebe.” He nodded to her, taking a step toward her.

  “She cannot speak to you here.” The goddess toyed with the chain. “Not while she is bound. To break this bond, you must offer up your own in sacrifice.”

  Dev squinted at her. “How’s that?”

  “Give us the demon as our own.”

  “Give you the—?” Dev glanced at Kur, whose dragon eyes were unreadable. “To do what with?”

  “That is not your concern.” The god had spoken at last and his deathlike voice chilled Dev to the mental projection of his bones.

  Dev cleared his throat, trying to keep the fear from affecting his speech. “Sorry, but it is my concern. I didn’t ask for this bond. And Kur bloody well didn’t ask for it. But I’m responsible for his welfare as surely as I’m responsible for his actions within my realm.”

  “There must be an exchange,” Mictlantecuhtli insisted in that bone-chilling voice. “One must stay if the other is to leave.”

  Dev glanced once more at the demon, still sitting stoically in its catlike position. “I will not leave Kur here to be enslaved. He’s not my property to give. If Kur stays, I stay.”

  “So be it.”

  “Sorry? I’m not sure what you—”

  But Mictlantecuhtli had clapped his hands, the echo against the stone walls nearly deafening. Dev ducked his head and put his hands to his ears.

  When he looked up, Phoebe Carlisle was gone.

  Chapter 27

  Ione grabbed for the phone when it chimed beside her head. She’d slept with it on the pillow next to her, afraid she’d miss the summons to Phoebe’s deathbed. She held it in her hand, letting it ring once more, not wanting to hear the news. What if she’d missed it, after all? What if Rafe was calling to tell her Phoebe was already gone?

  She pressed the button. “This is Ione.”

  “Ione! There’s someone here who wants to speak to you.” Rafe sounded far more animated than she would have expected.

  “What do you mean? Who?”

  Another voice came on the line, one she’d never expected to hear again. “Hey, Di, it’s me.”

  Ione nearly dropped the phone, clinging to it and holding it to her ear with both hands. “Phoebe? Oh, my God. Phoebe. Is that really you?”

  “It’s really me.”

  “What happened? I thought...” She couldn’t say what she’d thought.

  “It’s kind of a long story. I’m fine but they won’t let me leave yet, and...well, why don’t you just come to the hospital so we can talk in person?”

  “Of course! I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  Ione left Laurel sleeping and jumped on her bike to get there as fast as she could, so excited she forgot to take off her gloves and leave the helmet on the bike as she hurried to Phoebe’s room.

  And Phoebe was on her like a hawk. “What is that in your hand?”

  Ione grinned, happy to see Phoebe sitting up in bed and looking like herself, if just a bit paler than usual. “This thing? It’s my racecar-driver helmet.”

  “It is not. You’re riding a motorcycle! When did you learn to ride a motorcycle?”

  “When I was fifteen.” Ione tossed the helmet into an empty chair and bent to hug Phoebe tight. The hug was probably more of a shock to Phoebe than the bike was. Ione had never been big on demonstrative affection. “I can’t believe you’re okay. When I saw the fetish burn I was sure we’d lost you.” Ione pulled back to look her up and down. “How are you okay?”

  Phoebe glanced at Rafe standing off to the side. “Maybe he’d better tell you.”

  Ione’s smile wavered as she turned to Rafe. “Tell me what? Is something wrong with Phoebe?”

  Rafe looked uncomfortable. “No, Phoebe’s fine. It’s just... I think I should show you.” He was standing in front of the curtain drawn around the side of Phoebe’s bed. Ione had noticed it as she entered the room but dismissed it in her eagerness to see Phoebe.

  He pulled it aside to reveal Dev asleep in a chair. “Gideon brought her back.”

  “He did?” Ione smiled again, stepping toward him. With a lock of dark hair slipped out of his usually careful coiffure at the center of his forehead, Dev looked like a lovely fallen angel. “How?”

  “It was his idea.” Rafe sounded oddly defensive. “He asked me to perform a spell that would allow him to enter the netherworld from within himself.”

  “Within himself?” Ione turned to study Rafe. “What exactly did he do?”

  “He said Kur’s cage inside him was within the demon’s realm, and he could access it if he was unconscious.” Rafe glanced nervously at Phoebe. “And...he hasn’t come back.”

  “What do you mean he hasn’t come back?” Ione reached for Dev’s hand to wake him, but his skin was abnormally cool to the touch. She whirled on Rafe. “What did you do?”

  “He’s in a...magically induced coma.” Rafe hurried on as Ione gaped at him. “He should have woken when I unbound the fetish—”

  “You made a fetish of Dev’s soul? How did you even know this spell?” When Rafe didn’t say anything, she knew the answer. “That little witch Laurel gave it to him. You performed one of Carter’s spells on him.”

  “It was what he wanted to do. The alternative was...” Rafe glanced at Phoebe and, from the pain in his eyes, it was obvious what he’d been prepared to do to free her.

  Phoebe pulled her knees up under the thermal hospital blanket. “I’m so grateful to him, Ione. You don’t know what it was like.”

  Ione dropped onto the edge of the bed and took her hand. “Of course, sweetie. I’m sorry. I wouldn’t wish you back there for the world.”

  “I remember him being there, but I couldn’t understand what he was saying. I don’t know why he stayed while I was allowed to return. But we can’t let him stay there. I can’t have him stuck there in my place. I couldn’t live with myself.”

  “I think there may be a way to reach him.” Rafe glanced up, as if at someone taller than himself. “Kur’s shade is here.”

  The dragon had a shade?

  Ione looked in the direction of the empty space where Rafe’s eyes were focused. “What about Dev’s shade?”

  “That’s what I can’t figure out.” Rafe nodded to Phoebe. “If Phoebe’s willing, perhaps Kur can communicate with us.”

  “Absolutely,” said Phoebe. “I’m in.”

  “Ione?” Rafe looked at her expectantly.

  “You’re asking my permission?”

  “Kur is.”

  “Oh.” For some reason it made her cheeks warm. “Okay. Tell him he’s got it.”

  Rafe smiled. “He can hear you. In fact, he hangs on your every word.”

  Yeah, that didn’t make her blush worse at all.

  Phoebe inhaled deeply and closed her eyes, and in a moment, they shot open, her breath escaping in a rush.

  A word escaped with it as she looked at Ione, her voice rough and inhuman. “Mistress.”

  Certain she’d turned an unprecedented shade of red, Ione tried to compose herself. “Kur. What’s happened to Dev?”

  “The man.” Phoebe’s voice was like rocks in a tumbler. “He protect Kur.” The dragon seemed to have a better understanding of English now that it was in Phoebe’s head.

 
“He protects you? From what?”

  Phoebe glanced at Rafe, her foreign expression somewhat wary. “Snake’s gods.”

  “Snake gods?”

  “Snake’s,” said Rafe. “I think that means me. You mean Mictlantecuhtli and Mictecacihuatl? The Lord and Lady of the Underworld?”

  Phoebe nodded. “Snake’s gods say Kur stay. Man say no. If Kur stay, man stay.”

  “He wouldn’t leave you.” Ione glanced at Dev’s motionless body, surprised that Dev had demonstrated such loyalty to the demon he’d barely acknowledged as a sentient being a day or two ago. She looked back at Phoebe, studying the unfamiliar expression on her face. “Do you want to stay there, Kur? It’s your realm, isn’t it? Wouldn’t you be free of Dev if you stayed?”

  Phoebe’s shoulders lifted in a shrug that spoke of a much larger frame and of burdens Ione couldn’t imagine. “Man protect Kur. Kur protect man. Kur stay with mistress.”

  Ione was unreasonably pleased at the implication.

  Rafe was studying her. “Kur is bound to you?”

  “Dev says he’s my familiar.” Ione scowled. “Actually, Carter said it, trying to insult him, but Dev said it rang true.”

  “Then Kur has to obey you.”

  “Well...yes, I suppose so. I’ve never really had a familiar before.” She glanced at Phoebe-Kur. “Kind of like Phoebe with Puddleglum, I guess.”

  Disconcertingly, Phoebe laughed, the dragon’s demeanor momentarily cast off. “Oh, there’s no obeying going on there. Unless I’m his familiar.”

  But Rafe was focused on something. “Kur, if Dev has been forbidden to return without leaving you, what about you? Have the gods forbidden you from returning?”

  Phoebe’s brow wrinkled with confusion. “Kur here.”

  “So you’re not technically within the Underworld. And if you step into Dev’s body now, what happens?”

  This, Kur didn’t need to think about. “Kur go back in cage.”

  “Until someone releases you.” Rafe looked at Ione.

  Ione drew her bottom lip between her teeth. “You think if Kur’s shade returns to Dev’s body and I unlock the warding, his body will resume dragon form...”