Henchgirl (Dakota Kekoa Book 1)

by Rita Stradling

The last thing I saw before we were swallowed by the crowd of doppelgangers was my grandfather releasing Wyvern’s hand with a parting, “I don’t need to warn you away from Dakota, she’s perfectly capable of rejecting you all on her own.” Then my grandfather turned and climbed the incline to march away with me and his army of clones.

  Chapter Eleven

  “There are no part-dragons!” Senator Hale said behind the podium centered on my widescreen television. He yelled, “There is no part evil! There are only humans and these creatures of evil. Right and wrong. Good and wicked. The sub-classifications only serve to humanize the creatures that prey on the dwindling numbers of true humans left in this world.” The screen zoomed in on his face. The man had the kind of voice I associated with preachers, the kind of voice that made you want to stand up and shout, ‘Gods be praised!’

  “No wonder Auli thinks she’s royalty,” Mele said as she snuggled into a blanket next to me on the couch. We were spending the early morning in my living room.

  Last night, Bobby had teleported Mele to my house when he had left the dragon scene. But she had gone into convulsions for three full minutes on the floor and that was why it took so long for him to return. This morning I found her still covered in dragon blood, wrapped in a sheet in my bed. Clara had said that she could not wake Mele for most of the night.

  Clara had called the family witch-healer, Sylvia, who had determined that none of Mele’s injuries were life-threatening. Sylvia said that the unbroken sleep was just a magical lash-back from the ward hitting Mele’s human system and that Mele would be fine once she slept it off. Clara wiped all the blood she could off Mele then tucked her into my bed. My sheets with ninja-cats all over them were ruined, oh well.

  When Bobby returned without me, Clara and Lorelei knew something went wrong and had been awake in a state of terror until I arrived home. My mother and Stacy had slept through the night completely unaware and it was better that way. The whole lot of them were sleeping now.

  When my grandfather returned me home, I was met by Sylvia at the door.

  Sylvia was five three, an inch shorter than me and about as wide as she was tall. She looked like a dark haired, brown-eyed, discus. Though everyone knew her as a witch healer, I could sense she was not a witch in the technical sense. Her soul was not like those who were infected with the witch infection that originated with dragons. Her medicines and remedies were magical—yet another thing in my life that did not make sense.

  I had heard urban-legends that there were some humans who had so little and diluted dracon blood that they lived regular human lives; they crossed water wards without any problem but they might have a recessive aspect pop up from their great-great-great-great grandfather dracon.

  No matter what she was, she was the best healer on the island chain, which really did not say all that much. There was not a great selection of doctors on the islands, magical or mundane. Sylvia always seemed to know her stuff though, and she had been caring for me since I was a fetus. Sylvia had looked over every wound in my body for the better part of the early morning and declared me, “In decent shape, all things considered.” She made me about a gallon of tea to drink and had ordered me not to leave the house until I had consumed all of it.

  So I had been sitting on the couch guzzling down the brew ever since. After I heard a shower run for about an hour, Clara escorted Mele downstairs dressed in my clothing.

  Mele’s steps were shaky as she rounded the couch, held up by my sister. Tears came to my eyes when Mele plunked down beside me.

  She smiled and said, “I heard you made it. You still look half-dead to me.”

  “The doctor wouldn’t let me shower until I drank a gallon of this tea,” I said.

  Sylvia had cut off my sweatshirt, pants and ruined dress and flatly refused when I begged to shower. I sat in little shorts and a sports bra, since that was all I could wear without having the material brush against my wounds.

  “She made tea for you too, Mele,” Clara said, “I’ll go get you a cup.”

  Mele and I had spent the morning channel-surfing on the couch sipping at something that tasted a lot like chamomile.

  “Gross,” Mele said, “Your arm is doing it again.”

  I felt it, one of my wounds was pushing out gravel, it felt a bit like plucking my eyebrows times a million in grossness. I caught the pebbles and added them to the half-filled bowl on the end table.

  “Is it healing?” I asked Mele, when the television grabbed my attention again.

  Senator Hale shouted, “The only solution is war. The only way to guarantee the survival of the human race is to exterminate those who prey upon it! It’s time we tell the supernatural creatures of this world to return to the Dragon Kingdoms or die!” The crowd at the rally roared with applause.

  “Wow,” I said, not being able to help myself.

  “Yeah,” Mele said, shivering though the temperature was probably eighty degrees out. “I would call that a little extreme. Hey, do you think if this dragon blood doesn’t wear off, Auli’s dad will kill me?” she said it like a joke though fear was streaming off her soul in waves. Mele was usually so strong and sturdy; facing the dragon really knocked her for a loop. And she did it to save me. She faced a two-story house sized monster with a kitchen knife to save me.

  “The doctor said the blood will definitely wear off,” I lied, but still I knew that only full-dragon blood could infect people. I swung my arm over her shoulders and squeezed, trying to show how grateful I was in the gesture without actually saying it. There was nothing that I could say that would be enough.

  “Hey,” she said good-naturedly after squeezing me back for a second, “Please don’t drip rocks onto me, it’s seriously disgusting.”

  I returned to my side of the couch.

  “You know what’s weird?” Mele said after a minute.

  “What?” I said.

  “We’ve been friends for years and this is the first time I’ve been over to your house,” she said.

  “That’s because your house is better,’ I said, “No one is ever at your house.”

  “That’s true, it’s usually just me,” she said. She paused. “I had no idea your family was so magic happy. Not that I’m complaining. I always thought you guys were anti-magic, but you used a witch doctor and no matter what you say, I’m not going to believe that your sister Clara’s looks are a hundred percent natural.”

  “We called the witch doc for you, Mele.” I reminded her.

  I was rewarded with a sarcastic, “Yeah, sure, that was your first time calling a witch doc.” She flicked some of her now-cold tea at me with a grin. “I know your family is magic happy, you don’t need to be ashamed of it. Don’t worry, I won’t tell the fanatics.”

  “If Senator Hale had his way, associating with any sort of magic-doer would probably be enough to get a death sentence.”

  “Yeah,” Mele said and as she turned back to the screen fear surged over her soul. “It’s especially weird because I know him, my mom is right there beside him, that’s her elbow she’s just out of the camera.”

  I knew him too, yet I doubted even Senator Hale knew that. “It’s ridiculous too,” I said before thinking, “Because anywhere else in the country, he would be killed for saying things like that.”

  “Why is that ridiculous?” Mele said.

  Because the only reason that my grandfather allowed the humans on the Mabi island chain to have so many freedoms, including freedom of speech, was because he was first and foremost a businessman. High profile disappearances and anti-human policy was bad for the human-tourism industry. It looked like my grandfather’s leniency was coming back to bite him in the behind.

  To Mele I shrugged. “I don’t know,” I mumbled.

  The scene changed to two news anchors a man and woman. The man stated, “For those of you just tuning in, this was a speech Senator John Hale made at the Owabu Convention Center last evening, hours before his home on Mabi was attacked by a dragon and two dracons. Sena
tor Hale has made no public statement yet on whether the attack on his home was a retaliatory act to his anti-draconic speech or the first battle in his ‘so called’ war. Seventeen human teenagers were reported injured in this attack, fourteen of them were hospitalized. There was over a million dollars in estimated property damage. Here is Peggy on the scene.”

  “Well, at least we know they’re not dead,” Mele said. We had been trying to reach our friends all morning on our respective cell phones, but only tracked down busy signals and answering machines. “It looks worse than I remembered,” she said.

  It did, the house on screen looked like the remains of an apocalypse.

  The door bell rang.

  “Do you think that’s your uncles?” Mele said.

  I had been expecting them. Glacier had called before the doctor left, reassuring me that Bobby had picked up my charm bracelet from the scene and that he and Bobby would visit me when grandfather was finished ripping them new butt-holes. That’s not how Glacier put it, but I read between the lines.

  “No,” I said, “They would just come in.”

  The doorbell rang again. I looked at the grandfather clock on one side of the room. It was nine thirty, whoever was at the door was either someone panicked to see whether Mele and I were alright, or someone really rude.

  The doorbell rang three times in a row; I was surprised the whole house was not woken up.

  “You called your mom, right?” I asked Mele as I managed off the couch.

  “I did not have to,” Mele said, “She’s in Owabu. And, she already thought I was spending the night at the twin’s house, she has no idea that I was there.”

  Standing up made me realize how much better my body felt already, even though I was only about a quarter gallon of tea down. The rocks had already pushed out of my face, and I could wiggle my left hand without wanting to cut it off. I stretched as I walked.

  Whoever was at the door, held down the bell and I hurried forward.

  When I looked through the peephole I answered my own question, “Rude, seriously rude.” And I opened the door.

  Wyvern’s finger was aiming back at my little lighted doorbell.

  “Don’t you dare,” I said, covering the doorbell with my good hand.

  He was dressed in the same clothes I had left him in, a designer-looking sweat suit; he had not even combed his hair. The white strands were pulled back in a messy topknot. His face was set in a desperate, determined look. “I need to speak with you,” he said.

  “Yeah, I figured that out,” I said. I put on the best tough face I could muster. The expression was hard to keep on my face when Wyvern’s gaze flicked down my body and I remembered I was only wearing short shorts and a sports bra. I folded my arms over my chest and asked, “Having trouble speaking?”

  “Can I come in?” he asked, impatiently.

  “No,” I said, leaning against the door jamb.

  His jaw clenched in anger and I was immediately afraid that that all too familiar rage would build.

  “Oh no you don’t,” I said as I reached for his hand but I paused. His rage, even in small quantities was too much for me to handle alone, and if I fed the rage into my ring, my grandfather would show up guns blazing.

  “I’ll talk to you, but I want you away from my family,” I said.

  He was not full of rage yet, but I did not want to risk it.

  “Are you questioning my control?” he asked, his voice low.

  “Do you blame me?” I asked. “Just take me for a ride in your…” I looked behind him at his car and said, “Now that car fits.” He was driving a brand new flaming red Vervari. “I did not even know they rented out Vervaris. Just let me go get my gun and a shirt.”

  As I turned from him I heard him call, “Get your gun, but you won’t need a shirt.”

  I gave him a one finger salute as I ascended the stairs.

  *****

  The Vervari moved faster than me and the quarter-gallon of tea coursing through my bladder appreciated. Wyvern had not even blinked at the handgun I had in one hand, resting on the chair but pointed at the dashboard. Having Contingency’s familiar ribbed metal in my hand was like a security blanket for my mind.

  He probably did not mind the gun because he was fast enough to dodge bullets or impervious to them or something, that would be just my luck. I held onto the gun all the same with the sense of security it probably should not have been.

  As our car rounded the corner, he broke suddenly, taking up every space in a small beach parking lot. He whirled on me saying, “I want to hire you to find Honua.”

  I pursed my lips. It was not all that unexpected. I had thought that Wyvern would come to me; however, I had thought it would take a bit longer until he ran out of other options. I guess he had come to the same conclusion I had, sooner rather than later, that I was his best chance of finding Honua.

  “How much will you pay me?”

  “So, this guy Keanu Hale, at the beach I saw him kiss you. Is he your boyfriend?” Wyvern asked, the question had a biting tone to it. “What does his life mean to you?”

  Bargaining with a half-dragon was not just an art, it was tightrope walking over molten lava. I could not let him dictate the terms if he thought he could get me to do what he wanted by threatening the lives of the people I cared about then he would own me. ‘Dakota, why don’t you take out my dry cleaning or I’ll BBQ your nearest and dearest.’ No thank you.

  “I have four demands I want in return for my help,” I said. I had been planning them out since my grandfather’s doppelganger had carried me away from Wyvern in the crater. When trading with a high-blooded-dracon, you must make sure they give up at least one thing that they did not want to give for the reason I already mentioned. If you did not, they did whatever they could to own you; it was in their nature, to own.

  I turned to make full eye contact with him. I then deliberately held up my mostly healed left hand to tally my demands on my fingers. I said, “First, I want you to promise no repercussions on me, my family or any of my friends if I fail.”

  “I will agree to that in part; if they had no involvement in Honua’s disappearance I will not in any way do intentional harm to your family or friends, except Keanu Hale.”

  I nodded, already expecting this. I held up my second finger. “I want fifty thousand dollars, paid in full, in cash, when I find Honua alive.”

  His gaze narrowed on mine. “We’ll discuss that later. Next?”

  It was strange, I thought that request would be the easiest for him to give up. What was fifty thousand dollars to a guy who probably owned a couple states? If that one was a problem, there was no way that he would accept my next request.

  It might have taken me a while to connect the dots, but when I did, the picture it formed was terrifying. My grandfather was concealing what I was, who I was from someone traveling with Wyvern. He was going to great lengths to do it too. And for some reason, I doubted that the deception was put on to fool the good natured Braiden McCormick or his snobby sisters, which only left one companion. If I need protection from the full-dragon, I was indeed up shit creek without a paddle.

  So I phrased my next request very carefully, “I want your protection from anything or anyone that I draw the attention of during the time I’m searching for your sister.”

  He looked at me for a long minute, seeming a little confused, but at the same time pleased. “Are you saying that you want a ‘contract’ with me?”

  “I don’t know what that means,” I said.

  “It means you want me to offer you my protection.” His lips looked distinctly like they were fighting a smile.

  “Yeah…that’s what I said,” I said, feeling like I might be missing something.

  “For how long?” he asked.

  Thinking about his full-dragon father, I said, “For as long as I am in danger from those I mentioned in my original request.”

  Wyvern’s smile spread wide and triumphant across his face, and I instantly wanted t
o take the request back. What did I say wrong? I wasn’t sure, but a half-dragon only gave you that kind of look if you just promised him your entire hoard.

  “Accepted,” he said. “And the fourth?”

  “That you leave Keanu Hale alone until I have given up looking for Honua. And if I find her alive, you will not punish him.”

  Wyvern inhaled a long breath through his nose not taking his gaze from mine. He raised his hand to the finger I had raised along with my fourth request. His finger stopped just short of touching mine, maybe a millimeter away from mine. He ran his finger down, just barely not touching me.

  I watched, transfixed, not pulling back my hand, wondering if he would close that miniscule distance. But he did not. I felt the ghost of his touch as he slid his finger just above my arm.

  He must be impervious to bullets, or maybe he just thought I would not shoot him. Wrong.

  “You really don’t have much room to negotiate, Dakota,” he said when his finger was halfway down my arm, “I know that you’re going to look for Honua whether I agree to your requests or not.”

  Well, he had me there. But it pissed me off that he thought he knew me well enough that he could assume what I would do next. He might be worried out of his mind for his sister; however, I could tell he was still enjoying himself. It wasn’t all that unexpected; dragons loved to negotiate. What I was doing here was actually pretty high on the stupid scale because a half-dragon would only ever agree to a bargain if they expected to take much more from you than you were getting from them.

  “Maybe you’re right. But my grandfather ordered me not to see you,” I lied. My grandfather wasn’t stupid enough to order a teenage girl not to see a teenage boy; did I mention he raised over a hundred children?

  I leaned in so my face was even with my raised four fingers and closer to his. “It’s going to be hard to do this recovery without working with you… But if you can’t even agree to four little requests…” I shook my head slowly. “How can I be expected to go against my protector?”

  His finger paused at my elbow, then he pulled it away. “I’ll give you a hundred thousand, half now, half when you recover Honua.”