Tropical Dragon Diver

by Zoe Chant

  Chef boldly plucked a rind of the substance off and held it up to the light. It had a slight iridescent sparkle to it. “How heavy did you say the cakes were?”

  “Maybe 3 kilos apiece,” Saina guessed, showing the size with her hands. “Denser than you’d think.”

  Half the staff looked at her blankly while the others nodded. “A little more than 6 pounds,” she added for the Americans and English.

  “A quarter of a brick of gold,” Breck offered. Saina wasn’t even sure why the waiter was there, or how he knew the weight of a brick of gold.

  “Fruitcake,” Graham suggested dryly. Even the dour landscaper had shown up for the meeting Saina hadn’t known she’d called.

  Chef looked thoughtful. “I could do a dense cake and we probably have enough here to frost one over with the real stuff.” He crumbled the piece in his hand and tested how well it pressed back together. “I’ll have to make a binder. Sugar, probably. That will match the sparkle and set up nicely.”

  “Will he smell the difference?” Tex asked. “I’ve known some drinkers who could tell the watered-down stuff from across the bar. And they were just human.”

  “It will be wrapped in plastic, and the suitcase is so saturated with the stuff, I imagine it will mask the weakness of the rest,” Saina guessed. “Bastian should be able to give us an idea of how well it will work.”

  “And if he does eat it?” Tex queried. “You don’t offer a shot to a recovering alcoholic.”

  Saina had wrestled with the morality of every aspect of their plan. “I am bound not work magic on him, or I could try to sing it out of him. Fortunately, goldshot works itself entirely out of the system within a few weeks of being clean, so all we have to do is see that he doesn’t get a supply for a while.”

  “I’m not sure there’s even a full dose here,” Chef said. “It’s enough to frost a brick, and maybe fool him, but I’m not convinced it would actually be a fix.”

  “We’ll need to clean the outside of the suitcase,” Jenny suggested, lifting the open lid with her pen.

  Travis scraped a shard of the goldshot off the suitcase with one of his tools. “I can color match this. We can pack the suitcase with fake bricks and one real one.”

  “Almost real,” Chef corrected.

  “What if he grabs the wrong brick to inspect?” Laura asked.

  There was a moment of silence, then Wrench, standing in the back with his big arms crossed, suggested, “Take the right one out and put it on top of the suitcase when you open the negotiations.”

  There was a chorus of approval for the idea.

  Wrench gave a dry laugh. “It’s like you’ve never been in on a drug deal before.”

  “This is a fascinating conversation to walk in on.”

  Scarlet stood in the doorway; none of them had even heard her open the door.

  The staff froze in a tableau of guilt.

  “I’m sure this proposed drug deal has everything to do with the fact that only my lifeguard is on duty right now, in the middle of a busy afternoon,” she said mildly, looking straight at Saina.

  Saina cleared her throat to formulate an explanation, but Chef beat her to the punch.

  “We’re all helping Miss Saina get her grandmother out of a bit of a pinch,” he explained simply.

  “And it’s not really a drug,” Travis added. “Most of it will be gypsum.”

  “And technically, she isn’t even dealing for the false drug,” Jenny added. “It’s a really just a standard contract negotiation with a red herring. It might not hold up in a real court, but it doesn’t actually have to.”

  “And it’s her grandmother,” Laura insisted.

  Breck joked, “We’ve got to get her voice back from the sea witch before the sun sets on the third day!”

  Tex elbowed Breck.

  “Well, she got her true love’s kiss already and that didn’t work,” Breck protested.

  Saina, still locking gazes with Scarlet, shut her mouth. She wasn’t even sure how the others had gleaned so much of the story from her, but she was touched by their quick protection, if not the Disney references.

  “I have something that may help you,” Scarlet said mildly.

  In her hand was a syringe.

  Chapter 36

  Bastian back-winged into the familiar courtyard carefully. It had been a week since his last visit here, and he was significantly healed from his last encounter with Keylor, but he wasn’t entirely sure he was ready for this. Saina’s gentle hand on his neck reminded him of his purpose and he opened his mouth and roared a dragon challenge.

  The courtyard still had some of the damage from his last visit, he was rather glad to realize; if it had been entirely repaired, he would have felt less effective.

  Keylor did not keep them waiting long.

  I am surprised to see you alive, he said derisively. But I should have known the ocean wouldn’t finish you off as it would have a real dragon.

  Bastian lowered his neck to the ground and let Saina hop off, dragging her heavy pink suitcase behind her.

  Ah. You are only here as the siren’s lackey. Keylor snorted a trail of dark smoke in derision and ignored Bastian to look greedily at Saina.

  I have something you want, Saina said, her audible voice humming lightly in counterpart. She unzipped the suitcase and put a single, plastic-wrapped gray brick on the top of it.

  Don’t attempt to enchant me, Keylor said, drawing his head back.

  I already agreed once not to, Saina said, and I keep my promises forever. Whether she wanted to or not, she couldn’t break the contract she’d made.

  Keylor sniffed. I thought by now that you had failed in your goal.

  I don’t fail, Saina said loftily. But I’ve had a better offer in the meantime. I’m here to see if you’re willing to change the terms of our agreement.

  Bastian was sizing Keylor up as they treated. He was less impressive than Bastian remembered, and his eyes were more orange than red. Saina had been right about his access to the goldshot - he was running out. Which was why he was eyeing the suitcase with such lust.

  I still have your Voice, Keylor sneered. You dare to ask for more?

  Keep my Voice, Saina laughed. I have my own song. What use would an old woman be to me?

  Keylor drew up. What is it you wish to trade, then?

  The crown of Viracocha, Saina said smoothly.

  Keylor’s snort of laughter had flame, and Bastian, unable to stop himself, crouched to protect his mate.

  Well-trained, brother-not, Keylor mocked. Or well-sung, I should say.

  Saina let her hum raise into an aria, and snapped her fingers at Bastian. He settled back on his haunches as if against his own will.

  Can we deal? Saina pushed. Or are you wasting my time?

  You want me to steal from my parents’ hoard. That’s a bold request from a half-fish.

  I’m a siren who knows what she wants, Saina said, inspecting one of her hands as if her nails were a hundred times more interesting than two gigantic dragons posturing at each other. And I have other buyers if you aren’t willing.

  Keylor gnashed teeth the size of her forearm, casting longing looks at the suitcase. The smell was deliciously tantalizing to Bastian, too, but he fought back the desire, reminding himself that it was only false.

  Keylor’s eyes narrowed then. Why would you send my brother-not to challenge me for your Voice, if you did not desire it?

  I didn’t direct him to do that, Saina said with the unmistakable ring of truth. He’s the fool who came up with that idea. The suitcase for the crown, she repeated. Is it a contract?

  Yessssssss, Keylor hissed angrily.

  Then Saina stopped singing.

  You would enter a contract to steal from our hoard?

  The illusion that Saina had been holding dropped with her song, revealing two dragons, one a deep navy blue, the other a forest green, perched on the highest of the courtyard walls.

  Keylor, recognizing the trap, tried to prot
est, Father, I wouldn’t.

  The blue dragon leapt down into the courtyard. You entered a contract you didn’t intend to keep? He asked fiercely. I don’t know which is worse.

  Keylor, the smaller green dragon sitting above them said reproachfully.

  Keylor writhed, and Bastian was not a big enough dragon not to feel smug about his discomfort.

  Do you disinherit this dragon? Saina asked pointedly.

  Both of his parents turned from Keylor and gave Saina their full attention. To her credit, she didn’t so much as squirm.

  Who are you? his mother asked, not gently.

  I am Saina. Do you disinherit this dragon? she repeated.

  Bastian’s father glanced in disgust at Keylor, who was still belly down in the courtyard trying to formulate a defense. Yes, he said reluctantly, clearly angry and betrayed.

  Father, no! Keylor protested. It was not such an offense.

  Saina ignored him. Then his hoard is forfeit to you and I will treat with you in his stead. I seek the release of my Voice.

  You will offer us this vile contraband in trade, and come here with lies expecting us to treat with you? his father protested with a snort of flame.

  Neither, said Saina. I have been entirely truthful. I told him I had my own song and asked what use she would be. I told him I had a better offer. He drew his own conclusions.

  You can’t do this, Keylor snarled.

  Then what do you offer? Bastian’s father ignored Keylor.

  The truth, Saina said. I gave you the truth about your son.

  Bastian met his mother’s luminous eyes briefly. Her glance slid away quickly.

  Keylor, as furious at being ignored as he was at this unexpected turn of events, gathered himself and just as Bastian was going to risk interrupting the negotiation in warning, he leapt - not for the suitcase drenched in goldshot, but for Saina, claws outstretched.

  Chapter 37

  This might actually work, Saina thought privately, hardly daring to hope. Dragons kept promises, but they were masterful at loopholes; that was why they made such terrific lawyers. She kept her chin high and was careful with her words. Dragon expression was hard to read, and she was watching Bastian’s father carefully.

  She didn’t see Keylor’s attack until silver claws were slashing at her.

  Before she could so much as stagger backwards, Bastian was diving between them, driving into Keylor with a roar. That is my mate!

  Saina fell back against a fountain as the two tumbled in a flurry of beating wings and lashing tails. Her hand came away from her chest bloodied, but it was quickly obvious that it was little more than a surface scratch.

  She couldn’t hear what Bastian was saying - it was private to Keylor only, and Keylor’s responses were similarly narrow-banded, but the fight intensified. Over and over, Keylor attacked, and Bastian drove him back and released him, withdrawing and giving his brother a chance to surrender.

  Keylor wanted no part of surrender.

  Keylor sank teeth into Bastian’s shoulder and held on like a pit bull while Bastian shook him, staggering and dragging him along a stone balustrade.

  Why won’t you stop them? Saina shrieked at their parents, who were both watching the fight with detachment, stepping back delicately whenever the battle grew too close.

  Neither of those are our sons now, Bastian’s father said coldly.

  Saina balled her hands in fists at her sides. She wanted to run over and pound them on his uncaring blue scales, but she knew too much about dragon honor to believe that it would make any difference.

  Bastian rolled over the cold stone, and Keylor finally let go of his shoulder. Saina was alarmed at the amount of blood, dark against his green scales. I just put him back together, she thought crossly.

  The two dragons circled each other, snarling and flaming. Bastian limped slightly on his injured shoulder, but otherwise seemed faster and stronger than his brother.

  Then Keylor paused, his attention caught by the forgotten pink suitcase. Saina saw that he was trembling, and knew that he must be feeling the withdrawal from the goldshot fiercely now.

  Take the bait, she willed him, but she couldn’t put any magic in it because she had promised not to.

  Fortunately, she didn’t have to. Keylor led their circling closer to the suitcase, and dashed at the last moment in, to snatch the plastic-wrapped brick from the top and swallow it in one fast gulp, smashing the suitcase aside.

  Bastian darted forward, trying to take advantage of Keylor’s distraction, but Keylor dodged him and leapt to the top of one of the walls. For a moment, Saina thought -- hoped -- that he would simply abandon the battle and flee. Bastian roared at him, but didn’t follow, glancing back instead to assure himself that Saina was safe.

  Keylor, his eyes already starting to swirl more red, snarled and jumped down upon him, wicked claws spread.

  Bastian reared to meet him, wings beating for additional forward momentum as they clashed.

  Saina bit her lip as they tore and flamed at each other, then ducked and took cover behind the fountain as the battle raged closer. Bastian just had to last a short while, but Keylor was stronger and faster now, Bastian’s advantage gone now that Keylor had the goldshot coursing through his system.

  Keylor’s attacks grew stronger, and he pinned Bastian, striking dizzying blows at the side of his brother’s head. Bastian flamed and writhed, wrenching free just as Keylor moved to bite him in the already wounded shoulder. His actions became more and more defensive as Keylor stepped up his attacks, darting away at the last moment to slash as he leapt out of the way.

  Saina’s nails cut crescents into her palms as she watched through the smoke-hazed courtyard. Each escape was narrower, each attack more enraged, and she had no idea how long Bastian would need to keep dodging.

  She couldn’t sing her magic into Keylor, but she could into Bastian, she realized.

  She planted her feet and opened her mouth to sing.

  Stronger than you’ve ever known,

  A king lacking only a throne.

  You will always be

  Royalty to me.

  Saina couldn’t direct their battle, but she could remind Bastian of his strength. Your hoard is better, she whispered at him. Your heart is truer.

  Bastian crashed with Keylor into another wall, and they were a snarling, tail-lashing, wing-beating ball of dragon together.

  Did Bastian look stronger? Saina sang louder, desperate to help him, wincing at every blow and slash.

  Then, just as Keylor turned to bite Bastian’s briefly exposed neck, he shifted, and for one ridiculous moment, was dangling as a human from Bastian’s scales, holding on only by wholly inadequate human teeth as his limbs flailed.

  Chapter 38

  Bastian knew he’d made an error of exhaustion, just as he turned too late to protect his neck and saw Keylor lunge for him, teeth bared.

  Then, finally, the substance they’d put in the goldshot brick that Saina had scraped together from her sodden suitcase took hold and Keylor was an ineffective human, surprised and dismayed by his unplanned shift.

  As Keylor fell from the height of a dragon, Bastian twisted to catch him in one clawed foot.

  The temptation to squeeze the life from his brother was as painfully keen as his desire for the goldshot that he still reeked of. Keylor had tried to hurt his mate, and had held her dearest relative hostage. He deserved death. He deserved painful death.

  But Bastian uncurled his claws and put Keylor on the ground, then shifted to face him.

  “What are you doing, brother-not?”

  As a human, Keylor was less impressive than he was as a dragon; a pasty, thin man with an unpleasant sneer and a tremor in his voice.

  “I have no taste for your death,” Bastian said gently. “I know that goldshot can make you do vile things, and you have already been stripped of your hoard and your family. I know how that feels.”

  Keylor gnashed his teeth, hunched himself over miserably, then lau
nched himself desperately at Bastian’s face with an incoherent cry of rage. His eyes were still red with the goldshot, even in human form.

  Bastian, with the human muscles and reflexes of a swimmer, easily backhanded him away into a wall, where he crumpled into unconsciousness.

  Saina’s voice had died to a cough; the courtyard was filled with acrid dragonsmoke.

  Bastian turned to limp towards her, and glowing eyes appeared through the smoke above her curvy form.

  Finish your bargaining, Bastian said to them. Saina’s Voice shall be returned to her safely and we will leave you in peace.

  He wondered at the authority in his own mindvoice. His parents had always awed and intimidated him, but now he found that they occupied no place in his thoughts. Only Saina mattered, and he wanted nothing but to turn his back for the final time on the place that had taught him only his weaknesses.

  What did you do to Keylor? his mother asked. Was there concern in her voice? Did she love her children, or were they only parts of her own glory, little more than an extension of their hoard, to be judged for their value and nobility?

  He wanted a drug, we happened to have one that would constrain him to his human form for a time. Bastian had no desire to explain that the drug had been liberated from the zoo prison of an insane shifter collector who had been hell bent on adding Bastian himself to his collection.

  Trickery, his father rumbled, and Bastian found himself bracing for the pang of guilt he should feel for disappointing his progenitor. It was oddly missing. Perhaps he was more tired than he realized.

  All an aside to the deal at hand, Saina swiftly interceded. I offered you my exposure of your son’s true nature in exchange for my Voice.

  They returned their attention to her as Bastian staggered the final steps to her side and took her hand in his own.

  Riches are a more standard exchange for dragons, his father told her coldly. There is no value in your part of this exchange.

  I base my offer on your past behavior, Saina said with no kindness. You cast out your eldest son for something as trivial as compassion. Clearly you value your family reputation above any treasure.