Mad Lizard Mambo

by Rhys Ford

  Growing buildings from the ground was a complicated thing, or so Ryder’d informed me. The elements had to agree on shape and function before the earth responded to the architect’s spell, and sometimes the results were… odd, to say the least. The spire stretching up near the edge of the Court’s outer ring didn’t match the others, not quite. It was a creamy splay of delicate stone and wood, but there were odd differences, silvers and dark metals worked into the staircases and window frames, not to mention the curiously random fossilized ancient creatures dotting the walls. The tiny redheaded builder in charge of the High Lord’s dwelling confessed to being perplexed about the structure’s eccentricities until Ryder assured her the balcony-scalloped spread was definitely what the sidhe land intended to grow.

  Because, he’d told her, the Court was getting itself ready for me.

  And as much as I didn’t want to agree with him, the damned place made my blood sing nearly as much as he did as soon as I’d seen it. The structure wasn’t complete, not by any means, and there was still my obstinate reluctance to join anything, much less a sidhe Court, but the land apparently gave as many shits as I did and was growing me a place to live whether I wanted it or not.

  Luckily for all involved, it was taking its sweet time doing it, and at the rate it was going, it would be forever and a day before it was finished enough for anyone—including me—to call it home.

  Something else that pissed off the bristly, owl-eyed architect, because she wanted things done right and right now. I don’t know what Ryder said to her to move her along, but she’d skulked off to study the stone we’d brought with us, challenged with the puzzle of how to melt the counter and its runes back into the ground.

  I turned around to lean my back against the mostly stable balcony rim. It was an odd thing, a half-moon jutting out from a long room facing the river. The balcony curved sharply up, lipping into a railing of sorts. The three-foot-tall lip was separating in places, leaving its thickened top ridge intact but creating an arabesque cutout through the stone. Slivers of rust-veined metal were beginning to push out of the stone, forming thin flashing along the holes’ edges. I’d worried the Court was pulling its resources from the under streets, weakening the supports, but the architect reassured me it wasn’t. The tower—the living stone—was reaching past the San Diego I knew and tapping into the ruins buried deep under the Park.

  But as pretty as it was to stare at the evening sky through San Diego’s high-rises, Ryder’s shuffling was driving me insane. Poking his ribs, I finally said, “Talk to me, asshole. You’re just going to let your angry dwarf melt the stone back into the ground? We took some hard damage to get that stupid piece of rock, and now it’s going to be a what? A fountain? What was the point?”

  “I didn’t know… this is hard for me to explain, Kai. Have patience with me.” He looked away, setting his jaw. We stood shoulder to shoulder, although he had a bit of height on me. It wasn’t enough to intimidate, not when I knew he didn’t have it in him to gut a fish unless the fish punched him in the face first.

  I gave him a second then poked him again, and Ryder gave a sniffing huff liberally laced with sidhe lord arrogance. Nudging him again to remind him I cared very little about his supercilious manners, I said, “Try using your words. Use little ones if you have to. Very little ones, because I’m not that bright.”

  “You’re very….” He pulled himself up and caught my smirk. “It is hard to get used to you teasing me.”

  “I said I’d give you a try. And hell, I can be an asshole. If you’re willing to work with that, the least I can do is extend you the same courtesy.” I shrugged. “’Sides, technically you can still yank my chain. There’s always that to look forward to. All I’m doing is asking if you’re sure about this. Your healer said she could extract something from whatever that is on the stone. She just needs time to do it. Morrígan knows, if there’s one thing the elfin have, it’s time. Or are you scared you’re going to end up making more monsters like me?”

  Ryder’s head jerked around so quickly I was afraid it was going to snap off and bounce down the side of the building. Eyes narrowed, the smugness left his expression, replaced by a simmering affront. “Do not ever call yourself a monster, Kai. Not in my presence. Not ever again.”

  “If the horns fit, Your Lordship,” I shot back, widening my smirk. “Look, it’s not complicated. You guys need babies. Those pieces of stone can help you make babies. Just don’t use blood magic and dragon eggs to do it and you’ll be fine.”

  “What was done to you… to make you….” He trailed off. “Please know, I would not trade your existence for the world—for any world—”

  “But I am literally your worst fricking nightmare,” I finished his unspoken thought. Ryder was troubled, in his marrow troubled, and while I hated to be the one to scrape him open, sometimes that was the only way a festering wound would heal. “The sidhe aren’t willing to accept children carried by a human surrogate—”

  “Shortsighted and close-minded idiots,” Ryder groused.

  “You wanted to be grand poo-bah. That means you’ve got to compromise. Unless you want to end up like your grandmother, Sebac,” I reminded him, and he wrinkled his nose at me in disgust. “Well, that compromise means that spell. That stupid old, creaky mess of runes and ingredients my father fucked around with to make me. Why did he do it? No idea. Maybe just because he could, but why doesn’t matter. The fact is, a flesh-shaper—a healer—did it, and that means it’s a viable alternative for your Court.

  “Just… don’t use a dragon egg. Because I’ve got to tell you….” I rubbed at the hematite triangle glistening on my skin below my jaw. “It kind of creeps me out to know Tanic made me out of a flying lizard and leftover elfin juice.”

  “It actually explains a lot about your… temperament,” Ryder teased, then sobered. “Our people believe we were born from dragons, or at least share many of the same ancestors. Perhaps Tanic was verifying the truth of that myth.”

  “Like I’ve said before, I’m not going to waltz on over to his house to ask him.” I knew what he was fighting. I could almost hear his gut arguing with the doctrine he’d been raised on. Hardest thing in the world was to go against the dogma fed to you since before you could walk, and Ryder was choking on some of the biggest conflicts he’d ever come across in his life. “What are you worried about? Other than maybe turning your entire race into… me.”

  Ryder was quiet for so long, I was beginning to worry he’d fallen asleep, but eventually he sighed and leaned his elbows on the balcony railing. I settled in next to him, and he shifted over, pressing against my side. Somewhere in the forest, a panda roared, or at least I hoped it was a panda, because I was still a bit too tender and bruised to go fighting off another dragon.

  Ryder’s warm whisper carried on the brisk night breeze. “If my Court was made up of elfin exactly like you, I would consider myself blessed.”

  “I’m going to remind you of that when the twins are old enough to walk and bite,” I countered.

  “You deflect and dodge because you, Kai Gracen, are afraid of your emotions, of being connected to people, but I know that prickly nature of yours hides a very large heart,” Ryder said. “You care for a human man most would sooner turn their backs on, but you did everything within your power to ensure Dempsey’s health. That gargoyle you call a cat is a menace, and even though you’ve given a piece of your heart to a woman, you stepped away so she could find happiness and you flirt with my cousin, hopefully to irritate me but I know you find her attractive where many don’t. You worry for everyone, even for me. As much as you complain about me and grumble about life, you care about this world and its people, Kai Gracen. So how can you respect me when I am about to bury everything you are because what made you is an assault on my beliefs?”

  “You got your hairs in a knot when I sold a dead egg to a museum and nearly lost your mind over the dragon skeleton.” I pushed against him, catching a whiff of sweetness from his skin. “I
can’t see you being too happy about what Tanic did to make me and probably the others. Because I wasn’t the only one. Just the only one that survived. Burying that slab? That’s just common sense. I’m wrong, Ryder. Fricking wrong on every level where the sidhe are concerned, and no one—including me—wants someone else to find that thing and make more monsters.”

  “When are you going to believe me when I say you are not a monster? We revere dragons, consider them our cousins. How can I not revere you?”

  He sighed, sliding his arm around my waist. It was a comfortable, casual touch. I didn’t do comfortable or casual touches, but Ryder seemed to need the contact.

  “I don’t want anyone to use that magic for ill, but neither do I want you to believe I think you’re wrong.”

  “That spell? Those rocks?” I nodded to the pile. “It’s all just a tool. Who wields that tool—and why—makes the difference. You know who else has that tool? Tanic. It’s already out there. He brought it over with him from Underhill. Aisla went looking for it, probably because he wouldn’t share it with her. Don’t put the stone back into the ground. Let your healer do her work. Trust your gut, Ryder. Give your people fat, happy babies.”

  “And if someone takes that tool and abuses it?” he asked softly. “Then what?”

  “That’s where I come in,” I answered. “Because that’s what I do. Maybe that’s what I’m meant to do.”

  “Of all the things I have held, you are the most precious, the most treasured.” Ryder leaned into me. I let him rest his arm around my waist for a few moments before I began to pull away, but Ryder held on, refusing to let me go. “What if the one who abuses this power is me? What if—one day—I become what I hate the most? What if I become Tanic? Become Sebac? What will you do then?”

  “Then I’ll kill you,” I promised gently. “Because you’d want me to. To protect your people. To protect your Court. And I’d do it quickly so you wouldn’t even feel a thing.”

  “That is possibly the most romantic, sweet thing I have ever heard you say, Kai Gracen.” Ryder’s smile was a sensual slide of humor and desire, lightening the dark in his eyes. Kissing me softly on the edge of my mouth, he whispered, “And if that ever happens, I will love you even more for keeping that promise.”

  More from Rhys Ford

  The Kai Gracen Series: Book One

  Ever since being part of the pot in a high-stakes poker game, elfin outcast Kai Gracen figures he used up his good karma when Dempsey, a human Stalker, won the hand and took him in. Following the violent merge of Earth and Underhill, the human and elfin races are left with a messy, monster-ridden world, and Stalkers are the only cavalry willing to ride to someone’s rescue when something shadowy appears.

  It’s a hard life but one Kai likes—filled with bounty, a few friends, and most importantly, no other elfin around to remind him of his past. And killing monsters is easy. Especially since he’s one himself.

  But when a sidhe lord named Ryder arrives in San Diego, Kai is conscripted to do a job for Ryder’s fledgling Dawn Court. It’s supposed to be a simple run up the coast during dragon-mating season to retrieve a pregnant human woman seeking sanctuary. Easy, quick, and best of all, profitable. But Kai ends up in the middle of a deadly bloodline feud he has no hope of escaping.

  No one ever got rich being a Stalker. But then few of them got old either and it doesn’t look like Kai will be the exception.

  Kismet Andreas lives in fear of the shadows.

  For the young tattoo artist, the shadows hold more than darkness. He is certain of his insanity because the dark holds creatures and crawling things only he can see—monsters who hunt out the weak to eat their minds and souls, leaving behind only empty husks and despair.

  And if there’s one thing Kismet fears more than being hunted—it’s the madness left in its wake.

  The shadowy Veil is Mal’s home. As Pestilence, he is the youngest—and most inexperienced—of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, immortal manifestations resurrected to serve—and cull—mankind. Invisible to all but the dead and insane, the Four exist between the Veil and the mortal world, bound to their nearly eternal fate. Feared by other immortals, the Horsemen live in near solitude but Mal longs to know more than Death, War and Famine.

  Mal longs to be… more human. To interact with someone other than lunatics or the deceased.

  When Kismet rescues Mal from a shadowy attack, Pestilence is suddenly thrust into a vicious war—where mankind is the prize, and the only one who has faith in Mal is the human the other Horsemen believe is destined to die.

  RHYS FORD is a firm believer in love and let love, short walks to a coffee shop and having a spare cat or two. Most days she can be found swearing at her laptop and trying to come up with new ways to kill off perfectly good random characters.

  Rhys Ford was born and raised in Hawaii then wandered off to see the world. After chewing through a pile of books, a lot of odd food, and a stray boyfriend or two, Rhys eventually landed in San Diego, which is a very nice place but seriously needs more rain.

  Rhys admits to sharing the house with three cats of varying degrees of black fur, a black Pomeranian puffball and a ginger cairn terrorist. Rhys is also enslaved to the upkeep a 1979 Pontiac Firebird, a Toshiba laptop, and a purple Bella coffee maker.

  By Rhys Ford

  Ink and Shadows

  THE KAI GRACEN SERIES

  Black Dog Blues

  Mad Lizard Mambo

  Published by DSP PUBLICATIONS

  www.dsppublications.com

  Readers love Black Dog Blues by Rhys Ford

  “I devoured all 246 pages of it as quickly as I possibly could… Rhys strings descriptive prose together in a way that I loved.”

  —Boy Meets Boy Reviews

  “Dark, gripping, intense and imaginative… I thought this was a great read.”

  —MM Good Book Reviews

  “Rhys Ford is an artist; her words are dredged off the palette and brushed on the pages, creating a world that overwhelmed my senses for days after I read the last words.”

  —The Novel Approach

  “This author plunges you straight into a gritty scene that totally showcases her ability to create sounds, smells and the essence of a scene from mere words.”

  —Sinfully… Addicted to All Male Romance

  “This story is everything a fantasy should be… not only a fantastic story, its technically excellent and smartly edited. It’s definitely an example of the brilliance I’ve come to expect from Rhys Ford.”

  —Love Bytes

  “I'm in awe over this Urban Fantasy world that Rhys Ford has created and I want more!”

  —Rainbow Book Reviews

  Published by

  DSP PUBLICATIONS

  5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886 USA

  www.dsppublications.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Mad Lizard Mambo

  © 2016 Rhys Ford.

  Cover Art

  © 2016 Anne Cain.

  annecain.art@gmail.com

  Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.

  All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact DSP Publications, 5032 C
apital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or www.dsppublications.com.

  ISBN: 978-1-63477-743-8

  Digital ISBN: 978-1-63477-744-5

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2016913069

  Published September 2016

  v. 1.0

  Printed in the United States of America