Just as she thought she might escape them, she felt her heartbeat beginning to slow. The thudding seemed to be in her ears, and something was calling for her to stop and turn around. Then, a heavy male body slammed on top of her, knocking her breathless to the ground.
He jerked her head back by the hair and pressed his blade to her neck. “You’re gonna get it for that kick, you little bitch!”
Minerva couldn’t quip back. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think.
The knife began to bite into her neck, and then the shrieking, not her own, caused each one of them to look to the sky.
Mighty wings sent gales of wind down on them all, and the air grew as cold as winter. Minerva’s breath fogged in front of her as she tried to make sense out of the immense, preternaturally beautiful creature bearing down on them.
It swooped down more quickly than its form suggested was possible, grabbed the man on top of Minerva, and tossed him across the beach like a discarded toy. Blue fire streamed from its mouth in capacious azure plumes and spread over the stretch of beach, freezing even the lapping tides of the ocean.
The small man fled. As he scrambled along the hardened ground, Minerva realized that she too should be running as fast as her legs could carry her. She struggled to her feet and stumbled. Her hand drifted to her neck and felt the hot blood against her hand. He’d cut her. Not deep, but deep enough. She had to get out of here, but her legs wouldn’t cooperate. With every step she stumbled. It was so, so cold.
She fell just a few feet from where she’d stood. The creature had piled the bodies of the men closer to the boardwalk, and she could see it turning toward her. Its iridescent bulk lifting into the air and gliding toward her.
Then, blackness, and nothing.
4
Minerva
Minerva woke slowly, the haze of the night before lifting heavily from her mind. At first, she’d assumed the events from last night had been a horrible nightmare, another vivid dream like the one she’d had after stealing the gem. After all, how big a stretch was it from imagining herself launching into the sky like a dolphin to witnessing a giant dragon swooping down on the beach and freezing everything below?
But something had happened.
Her own apartment was modest, but it was bigger than the room she’d woken up in. The main room held a wire-framed bed decked out with a tropical palm tree themed duvet, cover and off to the right was a microscopic kitchen but one furnished with the newest appliances. Minerva would have to dream big to ever have stainless steel anything. Sitting up, she groaned when she realized her right arm was attached to the bed post. Her first assumption was handcuffs, of course, but she wasn’t so lucky. Oh no. One of the wrought-iron rails had been snapped out of the frame and twisted around her wrist to ensure she couldn’t escape.
What the fuck?
Taking measured, shallow breaths, Minerva arched her neck to evaluate the rest of the room. So far, clearly a random hotel suite, but she was still trussed up by someone who didn’t want her to leave. To say the least. At the far left, standing thoughtfully by the window overlooking the sunrise on Venice Beach, was an Amazon of a woman. Her long, white-blonde fell in a single braid down her back, ending almost at her tail bone. Her lithe limbs and muscular frame made Minerva think of a volleyball player or possibly a basketball star. When the woman turned around to finally face her, Minerva’s breath caught in her throat.
Here she was, possibly still tangled up with the three thugs or their contacts, and her heart was pounding against her chest in a way that had very little to do with fear. It was crazy. Then again, she’d never seen a woman so gorgeous in all her life. It was almost preternatural. Flawless, pale skin spread smoothly over sharp cheekbones. An aquiline nose gave her a regal bearing, but it was her eyes, the color of glittering sapphires and so icy blue that Minerva assumed they had to be contacts, that truly caught the thief’s attention.
“Who are you?” Minerva gasped.
The woman narrowed her eyes at Minerva. What had begun as an innocuous look shifted to one of intense scrutiny. “I am Saffyranae,” she said, in a voice at once quiet and commanding, “of the Clan Ayreinor. I have been hunting for the stolen eggs, and I saw you selling one of them to those men last night. I intervened when they attacked you. You, human, are going to tell me exactly where to find them.”
Minerva blinked, waiting for her brain to catch up with the rest of her. She’d had a hallucination last night. Someone had cut her deeply enough for her to get lightheaded, and her desperate brain had conjured up a dragon. There was no way they were actually real. Double no way in hell that this goddess before her was the same giant, ice breathing beast she’d seen before she’d passed out.
Thought she’d seen. Because dragons didn’t exist.
“I don’t understand.” She reached first with her right hand and then huffed. Instead, she used her left to stroke her neck, to investigate if she were still bleeding. Her fingers grazed the scratchy surface of a bandage instead. One that was clean and dry. “I’m serious. Don’t play games with me. Who are you and what’s going on? Who took care of my cut?”
Saffyranae— or whatever mouthful of syllables she wanted to call herself— flared her nostrils and rolled her shoulders in a way that drew attention to the strength in those muscles. She strode over to the bed and gripped another rail of the headboard tightly in her left hand. With a quick flick of her wrist, she tore the metal apart like a normal person would tear a paper towel from a roll.
“I do not play, human. I am the dragon who spared your life, despite your involvement in the theft and selling of our young. I healed your wounds as best I could and bandaged the rest, and I made sure those criminals did not do worse to you.”
Minerva stilled. When she spoke, her voice was low and husky: “Did you kill them?” Not that Minerva cared too much. They’d been on their way to slitting her throat, but she’d caught some of the attack on the beach before she passed out. They hadn’t looked good. “Are they, um, gone?”
“No, that would not have been expedient. To be fair, they may have fewer fingers after I finished my questioning. Due to frostbite.”
“What?”
Saffyranae blew out a sharp breath on the clock, the ensuing puff was the same swirling cyan plume from the beach. The clock froze almost instantly and then shattered as if it had been dipped in liquid nitrogen. “Humans have a penchant for lies. Dragons often find this amusing but not when lives are on the line, so I find ways to persuade. I suggest that you not test my patience.”
“Umm, okay.” Minerva shrugged, while rapidly shaking her head. “If we’re doing introductions. My name’s Minerva, and I’m a Scorpio. Aaand I have no idea how the hell my life got hijacked into crazy town, but dragons are not real. I’ve lost a lot of blood, and I’m not seeing this clearly. That explains it all. There’s no way this is happening.”
The dragon… No, not a dragon, couldn’t be… The woman shook her head. “Humans spend far too much energy trying to ignore what’s right under their nose. Usually that works best for dragonkin, but that does not serve our purposes now. I know this is much to deal with, that humans are painfully naïve—“
“Hey!”
“But you’ve seen my other shape and what I can do, and you know that I am quite serious. Please cooperate with my questions. I do not wish to freeze anything permanently you may later need.”
“I don’t know anything,” Minerva admitted. “You have to believe me.”
“That’s what the criminals said, the men who attacked you. They said that they were aware of what the eggs were from the black market, from whispers, but had no idea where to get others or who was selling them. You were the one to find the egg first. Obviously, you must know where my brothers and sisters are being held.”
“It was just a jewel.”
Saffyranae surprised her then by gripping the metal wrapped around her arm and twisting it free. Keeping her eyes locked on the stranger, Minerva pulled her w
rist toward her and rubbed it furiously. Pinpricks started first and then the tingles of warmth and of renewed circulation picked up as she wriggled her fingers. Still wary, Minerva hopped to her feet and kept her glare trained on Saffyranae.
“I don’t understand,” Minerva continued. “It was just a gem stone. I mean, it was a huge freaking monster of a gem, but it wasn’t an egg. Eggs aren’t hard like that or have spirals or colors.”
Then again, jewels don’t pulsate either.
For the first time, emotion colored the woman’s face as Saffyranae’s expression fell. “Follow me into the bathroom.”
“Um?”
“It is nothing prurient, but I need you to understand, human.”
“Minerva. Saff, if I can remember your polysyllabic name then you can get mine.”
“Fine, Minerva. Follow me. To understand how grave this situation is, you must see everything.”
Frowning, Minerva trailed after Saff. Then, she saw the bathtub and went still. Her heart seized in her chest. The jewel—no, the egg—had cracked open. The outer crust was no longer even pink. The remains of its shell were thin and brittle, like ice cracking under boots in winter, and it had fallen into a sickly shade of grey. There was no pulse at all. The small being didn’t breathe. Didn’t move. The small body, maybe no bigger than a chameleon, was curled up on itself, its small wings furled up, too. It was ashen, and the slight smell of putrefying flesh hung in the air.
“I-It died,” Minerva muttered.
Not sure why she was doing it any more than she’d understood why she’d been tempted to cradle the egg to her body in the first place, Minerva rushed forward and got to her knees before the bathtub. She placed her fingers on the baby dragon’s forehead. It was smooth as stone and cold as the icy breath Saff emitted. But the thing that struck her hardest was the connection, that vitality she’d felt with it snuggled up against her sweatshirt, was gone. Drained from it.
“It never even got a chance.”
“She,” Saff corrected.
Minerva turned her head but didn’t pull her fingers back from the dragon’s scales. “What?”
“She. This hatchling was destined to be a shaman. She would have been a great help for my people. She would have manipulated fire with the same ease I use ice. She will never do any of that now. Do you even care?” Saff didn’t cry. Nothing even reflected on her face, but her voice broke as she spoke.
Minerva understood that. As insane as it sounded, she’d felt something, a connection to the life pulsating next to her, even if she hadn’t known what it was. Her fingers trailed from the dragon’s forehead to the fragments of the spiral still left on its broken shell.
“I didn’t know. I’m so sorry. I… I’m a petty thief. Okay, I’m good at what I do, but I deal usually in Apple computers or Rolexes, whatever rich assholes and movie moguls have hanging around their house and won’t miss. Well, not much, anyway.”
“Then how did you find her?”
“The usual mark, an asshole over in Calabasas with more money than brains. It was mostly the standard haul, but he had this hidden in his closet. I figured it was valuable, some antiquities thing.” Minerva swallowed hard against a lump forming in her throat and repeated, in a hollow voice, “I didn’t know.”
“Can you take me back to where you found this? I need to find that human. I must to know if he is the source.”
Minerva frowned, thinking over the Douche’s self-absorption and utter shallowness. The odds that he was a mastermind of anything were low. “I don’t think he’s the guy you need. Rayos, I don’t think I’m the person you need either. I’m not exactly set up to be a tour guide for an American Dragon in Los Angeles.”
Minerva hopped up from the tub and started for the living room. She could no longer bear the death before her, that sad, tiny being who would never exist because she’d fucked up. That stench of death that pervaded the air. Saff followed her as Minerva rushed for the exit. With about two long strides, the dragon had caught up with her.
Damn, Saff was tall.
“You cannot leave. I need help, and I cannot let any other hatchlings die. You must show me everything you know.”
“An hour ago, I had no idea dragons even existed. Now a giant ice dragon, well sometimes, is asking me to help her track down stolen eggs. I don’t think I can do this, and, even if I could, I don’t think the Douche I stole from has any ties to some dragon egg traders’ network.”
Blue fire flickered in Saff’s eyes. “It’s my responsibility to save them. I have a duty.”
It felt if cotton balls were coating Minerva’s throat. She’d been on her own for close to six years, since her abuela had died around her fifteenth birthday. Abuela Delfina had been the one who had really cared about her, the one who’d protected her when she never seemed to connect with her mother or her father.
Understatement.
Her grandmother had been her refuge, her safety, and she’d always taught her to help others, to always strive be better. Maybe the necessity of survival had made her a thief, but Minerva never took from someone who couldn’t afford it, and, when she could, took from those who’d earned the karmic payback. But she hadn’t done anything her grandmother would have been proud of in a very long time. She hadn’t accepted any responsibility for anyone but herself.
That baby died in part because of you, because you shoved it in a safe. Because you just had to hand it over to those creeps for a wad of cash.
Minerva arched her neck up to get a good look at Saff. Then, she stuck out her hand. “All right, I’ll take you to the mark I stole the egg. I’ll do what I can to get him to talk.”
Saff’s lips pinched together and her brows shot up. A look of surprise, Minerva realized.
“Why the sudden change? You didn’t seem to be so compliant before, and I’ve been told I am quite fearsome.”
“I’m not encouraging torture here. Actually, I really don’t want to do that while we’re working together.”
“But?”
“You’re right. I made this mess, at least some of it, and I have to help. Let’s get started.”
5
Harvey
Harvey Buck was having a bad day. He’d started the day with a ticket at his girlfriend’s house for parking the wrong way on her street, and things had only gone downhill from there. Work had been a drain, his mother wouldn’t stop leaving long, rambling messages on his answering machine, the store had been out of sushi burritos, and when he’d gotten home, the magic stone that he’d purchased to boost the defense of his house had rolled off its altar.
“Dammit,” Harvey muttered as he leaned over to put the thing back in place. It rolled just beyond his fingertips.
That was weird.
He continued to grumble as he made another grab for the stone, and then set it back on the ornate black pedestal built into the altar. He was supposed to place the glass cover over it, and it had probably rolled away because Harvey didn’t like to keep the cover on. He preferred to be able to see the stone glowing its eerie amethyst aura, to watch the way the light peered through the carvings on its sides. He preferred to be able to feel the way it pulsed sometimes, seeming almost responsive to room around it.
Harvey would’ve preferred, however, if the damn stone would stay put. He moved his hands over the sides and let his fingers trace the carvings. It had been a regular occurrence since he’d bought the stone. He’d been warned not to touch it without his gloves, but Harvey liked the rush. Every time he caressed the stone, it was as though he could feel his bones buzzing and his blood dancing inside of him.
It was nearly half an hour before he could tear himself away. It was so beautiful. Best purchase he’d ever made.
The rest of Harvey’s week was not shaping up well either. He couldn’t tell if he was coming down with something or developing an anxiety disorder. He felt exhausted all of the time, but also, he couldn’t sleep and his hands shook with an energy emanating from within. Worst of all, his stone s
eemed to be fading.
He could do nothing about his physical symptoms (apart from making an appointment with his GP for two weeks from Thursday), but he could return the stone to the store where he’d gotten it for repairs.
Harvey’s eyes darted from side to side as he zipped between cars on the highway, eliciting honks and swearing. He paid no attention to them and cut across several lanes to take his exit. Every moment, it felt as though his brain were throbbing harder and harder. He looked back at the stone. Its lovely amethyst light had faded to a dull, flat pink.
“C’mon,” Harvey snapped at the car in front of him. He gave a long honk. The light was red, but she could’ve turned right to get out of his way. He could barely think. He pressed his hand to his head and blinked. It felt like his eyes were gummy. There were things—black and writhing—just out of the corner of his sight.
He rubbed them, though it didn’t improve his vision, and with an impatient sigh, honked again just as the light turned green.
Burberry Lane was fairly clear, and he pressed down on the gas, running one light after another. He couldn’t say what the hurry was, only that it kept pump, pump, pumping at him.
Then, a loud blaring of the horn. He swerved. The other car careened around him, and he looked back just for a moment before his car slammed into brick.
With a faceful of airbag, Harvey struggled to get free. He pushed his car door open, which took a little force, and then opened up the backseat where the stone was cradled in a pile of blankets. There were voices around him asking if he was alright. He ignored them, took the stone, and continued walking.
The people quieted and backed away.
When Harvey finally reached the store, his anxious energy had somehow depleted, and he walked in, arms curled around the stone and shoulders slumped heavily.
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