Blame It on the Moon

by Livia Quinn

His rumbling answer came over the roar of wind. “There’s nae need to yell, my love.” Warmth spread through me at his endearment. My stony, reserved dragon didn’t bandy such words about lightly.

  “I grew it for you, so you could ride even when speed and…what does the sheriff-pilot call them…evasive maneuvers are necessary.”

  I patted the sensitive ridge on the top of his head. “You’re just a big softie. Tell me, why did the Faenot know about Chaos?”

  “Time is of no consequence in faerie. There is no sense of past or future, which is why they are especially good at living in the present. Their world may seem like it is on this plane, but it is not, so news does not travel the way it does on earth.

  “Take haud!” he growled suddenly, and I grasped the handhold with both hands as he fell out of the sky upside down and into a diving roll. At first I thought Conor was playing, then I saw the thick gray body bounce off Conor’s wing as he took defensive action against several attackers.

  Gripping his neck tightly, I allowed the rest of my body to fly out with each roll and tracked, not two, but four more of the creatures. “They are squonk. Don’t let them breathe on you,” Conor yelled.

  The squonk were bigger than the shmoo he’d described from the lake, but just as fast and probably more lethal. My eyes widened as I realized two of the vipers were flying backwards where they could still aim their foul breath at us as they were being chased. It burned the inside of my nostrils, so I held my breath.

  One of the leaders got lucky and made a hit on Conor’s back, narrowly missing me. I watched as two of the huge flat scales sizzled, exposing the tough hide beneath. It probably hurt but it would take a lot of them at this rate to do much harm to Conor’s giant frame, and he could handle pain.

  I didn’t think that was their goal. I was more vulnerable. Leverage perhaps? They thought if they captured me they could turn the dragon? Maybe not, but I knew it was time for us to take separate measures. As long as I was riding his back, he would be splitting his focus by trying to defend me.

  I pulled my short sword from its sheath on my hip and readied myself for the next rally. A smaller, stupider underling left the others and folding his wings to his sides, aimed for me. Three others were flying around Conor’s head trying to deliver more of their acrid poison to his eyes.

  “Incoming! Roll right.” Conor spun on my command and I released my hold, using the force of his spin to leap into the air as the Viper missed its mark. I threw one arm out and hooked it around its neck landing astride. It bucked like a bronco trying to dislodge me. I toyed with it giving Conor time to take out his three opponents. Which he did in record time—two at once—now that he didn’t have to worry about me.

  The last, the leader, had apparently pissed him off. It redirected its attention to me and its underling, trying to shake me off. Streaking toward me with its plumes of acidic spray it assumed Conor’s size would make him too slow to react quickly. I prepared to fight just in case, when a familiar jagged sword streaked through the distance between us and cleaved the demon in two, down to the tip of its tail. Wow!

  I drew my blade across the neck of my “pony” severing its head. I thought the squonk would simply drop but its wings kept flapping awkwardly, slowly getting the message, well… no longer getting the message…and then it began to drop.

  I leapt to Conor’s back as he finished off the headless squonk with an extended stream of flame that seemed to say, That’ll teach you to mess with my woman.

  Conor scanned the sky. “That was…”

  “Very satisfactory,” I said. “I needed that.” I stroked his sensitive ear rims and smiled when he rumbled under me. It was like dragon purring. I wasn’t sure if it was my petting or the fight we’d just shared. Maybe both.

  “They’re getting bigger. Reckon there are more out there?”

  “Oh, aye, many more,” he said as he made another pass, searching the sky.

  “What did you mean when you said you’d take care of Vivie?”

  “I have an idea, but it would mean leaving you behind to protect the others.”

  Jack

  To do list: Give the dragon what he wants. That’s it.

  I scanned the clouds. The water had been quiet for some time and Conor’s dark shape flying through the white cirrus clouds reflected in the mirrored surface, just before movement broke up the image, indicating the lady monster was rising from her nap.

  Conor extended a wing and angled his big body so Montana could slide down it to the ground. For the first time I noticed the short swords on Montana’s thighs. Good. I’d wondered if she’d be weaponless but apparently even Dinnshenchas didn’t go around weaponless, especially without their supernatural powers. I was relieved to know I could count on her fighting skills.

  I still hadn’t reached Ridge. Buffy Romano, his wife, said he was due to land in New Orleans at anytime. He’d been to D.C. to re-negotiate some contracts for his consortium, a consolidated health conglomerate that had taken over much of our wounded veterans care from the government. She promised to give him my message as soon as the plane was on the tarmac.

  I was getting used to the dragon’s nearly instant transformation into the Knight Flambe´. I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Time was working for and against us. While I wished for it to accelerate, we needed every interminable minute to get the right parties involved, get our defenders in place and save Dylan, who was getting worse.

  “How did it go?” I asked abruptly.

  Conner looked at Montana, then me, “They will come.”

  Montana said, “If we’d all died, they would only have discovered our dilemma by accident. Conor explained that there’s this time thing with fairy folk like a space-time continuum or whatever.”

  Conor said, “They didna hae a clue about Para-moon.”

  I frowned. “Did you get their consent to fight?”

  Montana said, “It wasn’t a matter of getting them to do anything. I simply delivered Phoebe’s message and they jumped to it, right?” She looked at Conor who just arched a brow and then shrugged as if saying, You’re telling this tale.

  “Well, there was more to it but it’s not important.”

  “So they’re coming when?” I shifted my weight and blew out a breath, ready to get on the road to Campbell Glen.

  Conor said, “After I take care of Vivie and the other presence in the swamp.”

  “You mean…kill her?”

  Conor’s black hair tumbled across his shoulders as he said, “Nae, I can’t kill her.”

  “Because she’s a relative?” I challenged. Briefly, my internal monitor wondered if challenging a dragon, or a knight with big shiny swords was a good idea.

  Conor said quickly, “Because I’m bound not to take innocents’ lives, unless she threatens another.”

  “With evil intent,” Montana finished for him, grinning. She was definitely into him, and her enthusiasm was hard to get used to.

  Conor nodded. “I must ask her if she will allow me to transport her.”

  “You can speak Vouivre?” I looked toward the swamp. “Transport her to where? We have time for this?” I was starting to sound untethered, I realized, and shut up.

  Montana straightened, “We don’t have a choice, Jack. The Faewon’t come here unless we clear the Forge of threats.”

  “All right, you’re handing it. Don’t tell me—just do it. I’m headed to Campbell Glen. There’s a healer Phoebe wants me to find for Dylan, and I have to round up some more help.” I looked toward the house. “Don’t leave them unprotected.”

  “Ooh, so forceful, Jack. One would think you had dragon blood.” Conor punched her from behind playfully.

  “When pigs fly. You’ve seen my parents, just two gypsy humans enjoying a quiet life in Mayberry.”

  Montana looked at Conor whose brow lifted non-committally. They were getting downright mushy. I just hoped the Para-moon wasn’t affecting them like it had Dylan.

  I made a last check on Tempe,
her improvement obvious now. I felt the warmth of her skin as I leaned over and kissed her, “Get better, Sweetheart, I need you.”

  My phone rang as soon as I hit the main road.

  Chapter 12

  Jack

  Rehab? For vamps?

  As urgent as it was to get to Campbell Glen, I was still almost dosing as I drove. I had to stop at the UPak-It and get a jumbo cup of their stale Community, boiled down to a stagnant bitter syrup the way I liked it.

  The ringtone made me jerk, the hard metal strains of Metallica blowing the cobwebs out of my brain as it filled the interior of the cruiser. The display read B. Duplessis, which was a surprise. I’d never received a call from Bailey before. For some reason, she always just blended into the scenery. After I’d been around her, I was always left with the impression of a scatterbrain or a flake.

  I didn’t know what Bailey was—Paramortal or Fae—both or neither, but I knew she had two personalities, barfly and mild-mannered DMV bureaucrat. At the DMV she was spacy, distracted. At Bon Amis…she was spacey and distracted, but the staid buttoned up package was nowhere to be found.

  Neither the DMV nor the bar were open, so I was tempted to ignore the call knowing time was tight, but finally I relented, and heard Bailey’s urgent whisper, “Shhh, don’t say anything.” Her voice was soft and breathy like leaves rustling in a breeze. “He’ll hear you.” I cranked up my headset to hear her better. There was banging in the background, glass breaking, and…snarling. What the hell?

  I quickly switched my phone to vibrate and whispered, “Are you at Bon Amis?”

  A quiet ysss was her only answer. I could tell she was afraid of being exposed but I needed a few basics. I said, “Just answer with “A” or “N” when it’s safe. “A” affirmative—yes, “N” negative—no, got it?”

  “Aaa,” she breathed in a long quiet syllable.

  “Are you alone?” Damn, of course she’d say no to that, the perp was there. “I mean, besides the perpetrator.”

  A slight stuttered breath preceded her, “A.”

  “Hang in there. Are you hidden in a safe place?”

  No answer. Obviously not a yes or no, so most likely she could be found momentarily. “Do you know who it is?”

  “—iam,” she said so softly I barely made it out. Liam, she’d said. Bon Amis’ bartender. Hmm, what did I know about him? “Stay where you are. Make sure your phone is on vibrate, and don’t hang up. I’m contacting Montana.”

  I texted Montana to find out more about the Irishman. Bailey was a friend of the SOAPs, the name Tempe’s friends referred to themselves by. It had nothing to do with soap operas like I’d originally thought. Montana would come to Bailey’s defense. Obviously Liam was being affected by the Para-moon, detrimentally. Didn’t Montana have some kind of connection to him? Either way, she was the only one who could draw a weapon capable of making a difference if my gun was ineffective.

  I typed: I’m at Bon Amis. Get here. Bailey in trouble. Liam, what is he? Right now, I wasn’t worried about whether my phone records would be reviewed. Apparently, Montana wasn’t either. Her text read: Vamp. On my way.

  I stifled a groan and listened for noise in the background. “Bailey?”

  “A?” The noise resumed like furniture being thrown around. I heard wood splintering, more glass breaking. Bailey wouldn’t be safe for long. “Bailey, where are you exactly?”

  “Behin…music.” She gasped, “He’s coming.” Footsteps, heavy and uneven, got louder.

  The voice in the background yelled, “Who’s here? Is it you, Da?” More steps? Liam apparently longed to see his dear old daddy. Maybe I could use that.

  “Come out, Da! Show yer’self, ye bloody coward.”

  Or not.

  “Stay where you are, B. And don’t try to talk.” A tiny whimper was her answer, but I doubted Liam could hear it over his delusional ranting.

  I pulled into a space a block away. The parking lot at Bon Amis was white rock and would announce my arrival to the vampire if he hadn’t heard me already. Didn’t they have, like, super hearing, like a bat or something? If Liam was a vamp, how did I incapacitate him?

  Montana walked around in sunlight, so that was a myth. What else had been dramatized in movies and TV where my only expertise came from? I hadn’t received How to Kill Vampires training in either of my previous jobs. I’d remedy that—if I lived. I had to. Thinking about Jordie and Tempe, I went back to my mantra, “Take each situation as it comes…”

  I was creeping quietly around the outside wall of the bar, about to step onto the porch, when I suddenly found myself flattened to the floorboards with a snarling Liam O’Neill pressing me down. Oh, shit.

  No longer the good-looking, easy-going Irishman, Liam’s normally tame brown hair was sticking out everywhere, his eyes glowing red and worst of all was his four-inch fangs. They dripped a stench of saliva mere centimeters from my face. The mad eyes traveled down to my neck—Oh, Jesus, help me. I didn’t want to be a vampire. Or die.

  I realized I’d just decided on my priorities—stay alive first, then worry about having to accept something else.

  Just as his teeth pricked my skin, something with the force of a train slammed into us, and Liam was snatched away from me. He and his attacker rolled over and over like vampire tumbleweed, gnashing and biting, teeth flashing. I pushed to my feet while Montana had him distracted and raced inside.

  “Bailey,” I called. She didn’t answer. I looked around. Behind music. The old jukebox was pushed away from the wall. I looked behind it. No Bailey.

  As I turned away to search elsewhere I heard, “I’m here,” through my headset. I spun around looking for her. She wasn’t standing or waving her arms. Maybe she was in the bathroom.

  “Where?”

  “Behind the jukebox,” she whimpered, crying now. I looked again. There, on the floor looking up at me and resembling the insurance company gecko was a small green chameleon with her flight defenses in full bloom, a red balloon under her chin, her feet turning brown to match the wood floor. I reached my hand down to her and said, “Jump.” I meant into my hand but she leaped into the air and after searching for several seconds, I saw moment in my shirt pocket. “Okay, sweetie, that will do. Now let’s get out of here.”

  “Jack,” Montana’s voice called from outside.

  The bar was pretty well destroyed; almost no liquor bottles remained on the shelves. I smelled everything from beer to Scotch spilled or poured everywhere. The mirror and glassware littered the floor and other surfaces, and there was only one table still standing. “Is it safe for me to bring Bailey outside?” I asked.

  “For now,” wasn’t the answer I’d have preferred. The snarling I heard seemed counter to that statement but Montana was nothing if not thorough, capable, and decisive. She was also half-vamp. I reminded myself I could trust her, with my life apparently.

  I pushed through the swinging saloon style doors onto the porch. Liam lay on the slatted wood wiggling like a biology class specimen trapped by a scalpel. He was alive but the sword stuck through his shoulder held him pinned, and he no longer sported fangs. His breath floating across the few feet to me still stank, and I didn’t know why I hadn’t recognized it before—maybe because of the fangs in my face?—liquor. He was basted.

  “I thought he didn’t drink,” I said, jamming my hat back on my head as I waited for Montana’s answer.

  “He hasn’t in many years, in fact.” Her eyebrow rose as if to say—You’re surprised?

  “Right. The Para-moon.”

  Montana said, “Just as it removes the positive compunction put in place with the blood bond, it apparently removed his inhibitions. His job as a Churichaun is to guard the wine cellars and liquor caves or in his case, Bon Amis. So for him, it’s a conundrum. He guards what is his weakness. He’s done pretty well over the years.”

  Liam’s legs kicked and he grabbed Montana’s ankle. She dislodged his hand with hers like it was a gnat and gave a little twist of the
sword, stifling the growl from Liam.

  “So he’s no longer a vamp?”

  “Well, not while I have him skewered.” Her grin was…unfriendly. Blood thirsty much? “He is out of commission as long as his flesh touches the special properties in my sword. We’ll get him to rehab tomorrow.”

  “Rehab? For vamps?” I asked, shaking my head.

  She chuffed, “No, for Churichauns. They are the keepers of the spirits. Without that purpose, I might as well kill him now.”

  Bailey’s head popped up out of my pocket. Montana shook her head. “Bail, looks like you need a safe place to go, too. Come on.” She reached out her hand to Bailey who leapt the short distance and hopped onto the Dinnshencha’s shoulder.

  Montana’s eyes glowed briefly. My flight reflex kicked in and I asked, “You…holding it together?”

  She laughed, a wide mischievous grin spreading across her face. When she did that, she was actually quite magnificent, almost beautiful, in a dangerous kinda way. I got the feeling she’d enjoyed kicking Liam’s ass, like maybe she had scratched an itch.

  “I’m not going to jump you, Jack. But I am going to raid Liam’s refrigerator for some of his best Type O before I drop him and Bailey off.”

  “Everything’s pretty well destroyed in there. I assume if you don’t find blood in the fridge you’ll contact Rafe?” Rafe was Montana’s ambulance partner who could find the blood for her, or donate it to her, as was their “arrangement”.

  “I’ve got it covered. I’ll see you back at Harmony.”

  I was curious about what she was going to do with Liam, but I had to get to the lake.

  “Thanks for…”

  That smile kicked up on one side. “Don’t mention it.” Then she sobered, “Just get that healer.”

  Chapter 13

  Jack

  Only two nightmares at a time, please…

  I drove Code 3 to Hugo, passing two slow moving tractors on their way to disk up fields for planting. Peggy had called ahead, so the healer, a nice looking woman in her late twenties was waiting for me, sitting serenely by the front door in a blue wicker chair. “Sheriff Lang?” Her voice was deep but smooth and brought to mind the musical tones of alto woodwinds Jordie used to play in junior high. She was dressed similar to Aurora, in comfortable wide leg pants and a flowing tunic of soothing colors. So was this what Aurora was, some kind of healer?