Celtic Dragons

by Dee Bridgnorth

  Alan’s eyes locked on hers, and for a moment, she thought he was going to see things her way. But then his lip curled and he took a slow step toward her, his huge frame looming over her smaller one. “I said get the fuck out,” he snarled. “And I’m not messing around.”

  He advanced on her again, crowding her toward the door as she backed up right into Kean, who grabbed her shoulders, steadying her. The strength in Kean’s hands was reassuring, and it gave Dhara the courage she needed to reach out and shove Alan’s chest, trying to push the man backward. He didn’t budge, his frame far too bulky to be overtaken by hers, but it did make him angrier. Alan grabbed her arm, beginning to twist it back behind her as he spun her around, but before he could really hurt her, Kean was between them, knocking him to the ground and pinning him there, his arm raised to begin what promised to be an absolutely devastating pummeling.

  “Everyone, stop.”

  Dhara was on the ground, her arm aching from Alan’s rough grip and her mouth open as she watched Kean freeze as he straddled Alan.

  The voice that had spoken was so authoritative that the punch that Kean had been about to land against Alan’s jaw stopped in midair, and his head, along with everyone else’s, lifted to focus on a tall, elegant woman standing in the doorway, short, pixie-style, blonde hair framing classicallybeautiful features.

  “Enough,” she said, reiterating her point. “Stand up, Kean. I want to see you in my office. And your friend.”

  Alan struggled to his feet as Kean stood up off him, his face red and glowering with fury. “Cassandra, this is a mistake. These two are trouble. I can tell. Can’t you smell her? It’s flowers and rotting flesh.”

  It was the first real acknowledgment of the fact that they were talking about the supernatural vibe that Dhara was giving off, and she glanced around, waiting to see if anyone was going to react. But most people were either watching with mild interest, staring into their drinks, or competing at the pool tables. This sort of thing—whatever that was—didn’t seem to be terribly shocking or out of the ordinary. Maybe there were always these kinds of skirmishes around Alan. Dhara wouldn’t be shocked.

  “Don’t talk about her that way,” Kean snapped, on his feet too, clearly still ready to punch the next thing that came at him. “Apologize to her. You’ve been a jackass since she walked in.”

  “Like fucking hell!” Alan protested. “Cassandra—”

  “No,” the woman said simply, holding up a hand that effectively cut off his speech with nexttonoeffort on her part. “Kean, bring her with you.”

  Then Cassandra turned away, walking back down the hallway she’d appeared from, and the rest of the bar, Alan aside, went back about their business, drinking, eating, talking, laughing, and playing as though nothing at all had happened. In Dhara’s eyes, a regal queen had just walked in and delivered orders, saving her from certain injury at the hand of a bully, but that must be the standard for this place.

  “Get up,” Kean said under his breath, reaching a hand down to help Dhara to her feet. “Let’s go.”

  Together, they started to hurry past Alan, ready to follow Cassandra, but Alan darted in front of them. “I’m watching you,” he said, still glowering. “Just keep that in mind. I’m right here, watching you.”

  Kean pulled her past him again, but as they entered the hallway, Dhara looked back at the big, red-faced man with too much alcohol in his system and too few brain cells in his head. “Watch all you want,” she retorted. “But just like with every girl you meet, you’ll never get to touch.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Kean

  “Dhara!” Kean pulled her closer to him in the hallway as she taunted the man who Kean had almost just had to beat the shit out of. “Are you trying to antagonize him?”

  “So what if I am?” she asked, that anger burning inside of her again. She knew, intellectually, that it was an effect of her possession, but emotionally, all she knew was that she was pissed off. “Let him come at us. You’ll beat his face in.”

  Kean arched an eyebrow at her. “Okay, that’s not something you’d normally say. Come on.” He urged her faster, and they finally came across a door that was ajar, revealing Cassandra inside, sitting at a desk. Kean pushed the door open gently and then nudged Dhara inside. “Sit quietly,” he whispered in her ear, before more loudly addressing Cassandra. “Hello. Thank you for seeing us.”

  “I know what you want,” Cassandra said, not looking up from the large book that she was reading in detail. “You’re looking for Nicolette. You’re on quite the mission. I understand that your friend suffers from the same thing that once plagued my daughter.”

  “Your daughter,” Kean repeated, glancing at Dhara. “That’s…interesting.”

  “It’s not particularly, no,” Cassandra said, still not looking at them as she flipped through pages. “We take ourselves fairly seriously here, as you may have noticed. We don’t like outsiders, and we protect our own. Your friend has a very, very bad aura. It’s all but black, in fact. She is walking death incarnate. Alan has a temper and a protective streak. Ignore him.”

  “Excuse me,” Dhara interjected, moving forward into the room. “But you’re talking about me without looking at him.”

  “Dhara …” Kean warned, taking her arm. “That doesn’t matter right now.”

  “It does,” Dhara insisted. “It’s rude.”

  “And so is bringing a stinking, festering spirit of death into my bar,” Cassandra said, looking up, a lilac glow emanating from her eyes that snapped Dhara’s jaw shut when she started to shout a retort. “But I didn’t complain. You want to talk to Nicolette—that’s between you and her. Nicolette has suffered a great deal, and if she doesn’t want to talk to you, then you thank her, walk the other direction, and go home. Do you understand?”

  Kean nodded. “Agreed. Just tell me where I can find her. Dhara is in a lot of danger.”

  “We’re all in danger,” Cassandra said, leaning back in her chair, folding her hands in her lap, and staring him down. “Nicolette doesn’t leave the house anymore. Not yet, anyway. You’ll have to find her there.”

  “Where?” Kean demanded, not wanting to let this opportunity slip from his fingers. He was so close to finding the answer that would bring Dhara back to him permanently.

  Cassandra stared out the window, gesturing. “That way. Two blocks over and three blocks to the left. It has a yellow door with a sun and a moon carved into it.” She looked back at them. “To be subtle.”

  “Are you a shapeshifter?” Dhara asked, out of nowhere.

  Kean grabbed her, pulling her against him as he started to back out of the room. “Don’t,” he hissed to her.

  Out loud, he apologized to Cassandra with a laugh that was as awkward as it was dismissive. “She’s not thinking straight,” he said, pulling her from the room. “Thank you,” he called back over his shoulder before hurrying Dhara out into the main area of the bar and almost shoving her outside the door, before Alan could react to their return.

  Once they were outside, he turned to her, shaking his head. “What were you doing?” he demanded. “You were being inflammatory in there. What happened to following my lead?”

  “It’s my life on the line,” she reminded him, anger still visibly bubbling. “I have every right to—”

  He put his hand over her mouth, his eyes flashing a warning. “Listen to me,” he said softly. “You’re not acting like yourself. I need you not to trust any of the things you want to say and just…come with me. Can you do that?”

  Dhara hesitated, seeming to be torn between lashing out at him and yet retaining enough mental awareness to understand that there was something inside of her that could be messing with how she felt. “You’re saying don’t throw the body out with the bath water.”

  “Sure, if that means letting me do the talking,” he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her down the sidewalk. “Look, Dhara, when we get to the house, please—remember that this girl has been through what
you’re going through. She may not be in good shape.”

  “Are you saying I’m not going be nice to her?”

  He sighed, taking her face in his hands. “Sweetheart, you’re the nicest person in the world—but you’ve got a lot of evil living inside you right now. That’s all I’m saying.”

  Dhara nodded, knowing that he wasn’t telling her anything she didn’t need to hear for her own good. “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” he murmured, kissing her gently before stepping back. “It’s not your fault.”

  Together, hand in hand, they followed the directions to the house with the yellow door. It stood out from all of the others, not just because of its brightlypainted door with its unique carvings, but because the lawn was littered with globes hanging from iron hooks, bright wildflowers, and so many animal statues that it was almost mind boggling. The house itself was painted a shade of pale blue that only accentuated the bright pop of color on the door, and the shutters were a stark white. It was a house that nobody could walk by without noticing, and Dhara briefly wondered if they weren’t trying to draw attention for some reason.

  “Come on,” Kean said quietly, squeezing her hand as he opened the front gate and led her up the driveway toward the front door. He raised his hand and knocked, but as the seconds ticked by, there was no answer. He knocked again, and still the house was silent.

  “Just break in,” Dhara suggested, earning a surprised look from Kean. “What?”

  “You,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re not yourself. A week ago, you’d never have said that.”

  If she thought about it logically, he was probably right. She liked to follow rules—they were there for a reason, after all. But everything about her life had changed, and she had no idea who she was anymore. Beyond just the dark forces that were percolating inside of her, something about who she was had fundamentally changed, primarily because she didn’t know what she could and couldn’t believe in. Her fear wasn’t just because of the spirit possessing her. It had a lot to do with wondering how, if she did survive this, she would ever find herself again.

  There was a sound behind the door that saved Dhara from having to answer him, and they both held their breath as they tried to track the location of the slight scuffle of feet.

  “Nicolette?” Kean asked gently. “Nicolette, my name is Kean, and I’m here with my friend Dhara. We talked to your mom, and she said you might be able to help us. Will you let us inside? I promise we’re only here for help—just to talk.”

  “Your friend?” Dhara whispered, frowning at him.

  He kissed her. “You know what I mean.”

  “No, I don’t,” she started to argue, that irrational anger flaring again. In her mind, she wasn’t upset with him for what he’d said, but her emotions were all over the place and she suddenly wanted to claw his eyes out for daring to kiss her.

  Before she could do that or he could try to calm her down though, the front door opened just enough to let them catch a glimpse of the waiflike girl who was inside the house. Her skin was pale and freckled, and her hair was a shade of strawberry blonde that Dhara had never seen before. It was beautiful but almost toobright, as though she hadn’t been born with the color but had applied it herself. Her fingers, curled around the door, were so slim and thin that Dhara wondered if all of her was that thin and, if so, how she could manage even to stand.

  “What do you want?” Nicolette asked, her voice light and high. “I don’t like visitors.”

  “I know,” Kean assured her, keeping a tight grip on Dhara, as though he was concerned that she might do or say something that would scare the girl off. “But Dhara needs your help. Can we come in and talk to you?”

  “Is it a Disgorge?”

  “Yes,” Dhara said, stepping forward, despite Kean’s tight grip on her hand. “And you survived it. It’s trying to kill me, Nicolette. I should already be dead, and I would be if not for Kean. But he won’t be able to protect me forever, and I can’t keep living like this. I’m standing here on your porch, begging you for help, and at the same time, part of me wants to kick in this door, wrap my hands around your neck, and strangle you.”

  The girl gasped and stepped back, but she didn’t close the door, and Dhara didn’t stop talking.

  “If you had known me before this happened, you would know that’s not like me. I don’t know myself anymore. I can’t trust myself anymore. And that’s just as bad as the fact that sometimes when I close my eyes, the darkest parts of my mind attack me from within, and sometimes they can even move outside of me and interact with my world. I don’t understand any of it, Nicolette. I’m a scientist, and I can’t explain what the world is like anymore. How is that possible? Can you give me those answers? Because if someone doesn’t tell me what’s happened to me, then I think that I might lose my mind long before my mind can kill me.” Dhara’s voice wavered ever so slightly, a break in her words exposing the vulnerability that still existed under all of the fear, frustration, and fury. “Is there anything you can tell me? Anything?”

  Nicolette was quiet for a moment, but then she stepped back, letting the door open more fully. “Come in.”

  Looking at each other, Dhara and Kean moved into the house, the door clicking behind them. Kean smiled at her, touching her cheek. “You did great,” he whispered. “I didn’t want you to say anything, but I should have trusted you more.”

  “I don’t blame you for not,” she murmured back, covering his hand with hers.

  Then they walked further into the room, taking a seat on the brightwhite leather couch that Nicolette directed them to.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Dhara

  All three of them sat in the living room of Nicolette’s house, one she presumably shared with Cassandra, staring at each other, nobody knowing quite where to begin. It was clear that Nicolette was nervous, unused to talking to strangers, and hesitant to jump in before she felt more at ease. Dhara attempted to smile at her, though it was a rather pitiful attempt, given how she was feeling.

  “Could you…maybe tell us your story?” Dhara suggested, glancing at Kean, who nodded. They didn’t have time to wait around for Nicolette to think of that herself.

  Nicolette twisted her fingers together in her lap, taking a deep, careful breath. “All right. I suppose. I just…” she glanced up at Dhara. “Could you sit further away on the couch? I’m sorry, but I feel the Disgorge’s energy, and it …”

  Dhara quickly moved, sitting as far away from the young girl as possible. It made her want to lash out at the unfairness of it all. She was getting tired of people with paranormal abilities or connections sensing something dark or forbidding about her, even if she knew that they weren’t sensing it personally about her. It was a frustrating and constant reminder that she was broken. But she forced another smile. “Better?”

  “No, but I’ll manage,” Nicolette said, staring down at her hands. “My story is simple. I was raped four years, five months, and twenty-three days ago. I don’t really remember it, but I have my memories of it back. I know that doesn’t make sense.” She waved a hand, dismissing her own stumbling. “My mother is a psychic, and a very powerful one. But she wasn’t in town that night. I don’t want to go into the details.”

  “You don’t need to,” Kean assured her gently, his arm sliding around Dhara to hold her closely against him.

  “When she returned and I told her what had happened, she was devastated. She took me to a witch she knew. A witch named Laurel. She performed a spell on me that took that memory and bound it with magic that would keep me from knowing about it. The memory was still there, but in theory, I would never know.”

  “Except you did,” Dhara said.

  Nicolette nodded. “Eventually, yes. The spell never worked very well with me. Either I wasn’t as susceptible to the magic, perhaps because I have some of my mother’s psychic tendencies, or maybe Laurel just didn’t do the spell well. But it didn’t last long. See, there’s always a price
to pay for that kind of thing. Magic, despite what a lot of people think, isn’t the answer to most problems, because it always creates a new set of problems. I didn’t have to relive that night over and over, but other things started to happen.”

  “Lights flicker,” Dhara said. “Sounds you can’t explain. Tight feelings in your chest. Emotions that come out of nowhere.”

  “Yes,” Nicolette agreed. “And then worse. A Disgorge … it’s like nothing else. It’s a mixture of you and dark magic and the worst kinds of thoughts that exist in the world. It’s pure evil, and it wants to destroy you. The only thing that saved me for a while is that Disgorges have to almost…charge up their powers.”

  Kean interjected, leaning forward. “Tell me about that. What do you mean charge up their powers?”

  Nicolette shook her head. “I don’t fully understand it. But they’re living inside of you and they draw their power from you. They can expend it in terrible bursts of pain and supernatural activity…they can even live outside of you for a time. But once their stored energy is expended, they quiet. It lulls you into thinking you might be safe.” Her eyes were shadowed and dark. “But you’re not.”

  “I think that’s what I’ve experienced,” Dhara said, so grateful suddenly to be able to talk about it with someone who had been there and experienced what she was going through. “At first, it was stronger. It was in my house, interacting. It was all around me—things constantly happening. But then I left the house for a while, and since then, it’s been more sporadic. Without warning. Just these events now and then, and then times when I feel almost normal, except for this anger that lives inside of me now.”

  “Yes,” Nicolette said, staring past them at a spot on the wall, clearly lost in her own memories. “It had been storing up energy inside you for so long that at first it could expend a great deal. Then you left, taking away its source of power, and now that it has found you again, it has longer charging periods. Don’t be fooled. It’s as strong as ever.”