The Dragon Conspiracy

by Lisa Shearin

  Paralyzed.

  A sound escaped his closed muzzle like the whine of a hurt dog.

  “No!” Ian roared.

  As one, we both lunged for Sebastian du Beckett. My harpy guard stopped me cold, but Ian made it, his shoulder slamming into the gorgon’s midsection, taking him to the ground. His manacles ignited with a sharp zap, turning the roar to a guttural scream and putting him on his back writhing in pain.

  Neither one of us had thought; we’d just attacked. If Ian’s bare head or neck had come into contact with even the smallest patch of bare skin on Sebastian du Beckett . . . he’d have either been paralyzed like Yasha or turned to stone.

  Yasha could hear us. He could think, feel, but he couldn’t move or speak. He was trapped in a paralyzed body, completely helpless. I was a self-admitted control freak. This went above and beyond my worst nightmare.

  The harpy reached down and clamped her hand around the back of Ian’s neck, seizing his throat in her claws and lifting him off the floor, drawing blood.

  Du Beckett snapped something in Greek and the winged monster loosened her grip a little as blood streamed in rivulets down Ian’s neck. She set him back on his feet, but didn’t release him.

  Rake Danescu remained immobile, his face impassive.

  Du Beckett sat up slowly, wiping blood from his nose. “If I die, he begins to turn to stone within hours. Are you prepared to be responsible for that, Agent Byrne?”

  Ian didn’t, couldn’t, answer.

  My vision blurred. Twelve hours. According to what Helena Thanos had told me, after twelve hours, the paralysis would be irreversible and Yasha would begin to turn to stone. During every second of the few hours he would have left, Yasha would feel his body turning to stone from the outside in, until the process reached his internal organs, finally killing him.

  Using the wall for support, the gorgon got to his feet. “We have little time left.” He said something to the harpies, and we were forced down the hall back toward the stairs, leaving Yasha alone and helpless on the floor in the dark.

  I swore to myself and spoke silently to Yasha, willing him to hear my thoughts, my promise that he would not die alone in the dark. We would stop this, and we would force Sebastian du Beckett by any means necessary to undo the torment that he had inflicted.

  Then Ian could finish what he’d started.

  We were Yasha’s only chance. He was depending on us.

  We would not let him down.

  “We’re not leaving you,” Ian called back, his voice ragged. “We’ll be back. Hang on!”

  “You would do well to follow Lord Danescu’s example,” du Beckett said.

  “I can assure you my intentions toward you make the humans’ thoughts like those of innocent children,” Rake told him. “They want to make you pay. I will see you suffer. I’m merely saving myself for a risk worth taking.”

  “You think I haven’t suffered, goblin?” Du Beckett spat the last word as if he couldn’t get it out of his mouth and away from him fast enough. “You and monsters like you are responsible for what I am. ‘Get this for me, Bastian.’ And ‘There is only one left in the world, and I want it.’ The last one of those trips had me crossing paths with a gorgon. I became a prisoner in my own home. The monsters that used me to satisfy their greed would have turned on me and killed me in an instant if they’d known what I’d become. I’d have been put down like a rabid dog. I was a base human servant, a dog used to fetch, suitable for association only when you desired something, but scorned and ignored when you had no use for me.”

  “I’ve seen you at social gatherings, Bastian,” Rake drawled, “and you’ve never been the life of any party. If anyone avoided your company, you can find their reason by looking in the closest mirror. You overcharged, you swindled, you cheated. I’ll admit you did it very well; I almost admire your painstaking deviousness. At times, you nearly approached my level of skill. The human saying is quite true in your case: It takes one to know one.”

  The gorgon made a derisive sound. “And now you won’t be able to tell anyone. Pity.”

  “You mistake my intent, Bastian. I won’t tell anyone what transpires this night.”

  Du Beckett gave a short laugh. “And you think this will secure your release?”

  “I sincerely hope not. My intent is not to tell; my intent is to kill. And I can’t kill you if I’m not here, so I’m right where I want to be. And if I don’t get the pleasure of your death at my hands this night, another will. You have more enemies than you can imagine.”

  “And all of them believe me dead.”

  Rake smiled slowly. “Are you quite confident of that?”

  Faster than you’d expect a man of his age could move, Sebastian du Beckett spun and backhanded Rake across the face. The harpy gripping the goblin’s upper arm was all that kept him from slamming into the wall. That the gorgon’s hand was in a glove was all that had kept him from being paralyzed or turned to stone.

  “And you,” du Beckett snarled, “always the most clever.”

  “You have yet to prove me wrong.”

  “Enjoy your false superiority, goblin; you won’t have your arrogant and deluded fantasy for much longer.”

  Rake’s smile simply broadened and he spit a mouthful of blood to the side, his dark eyes never moving from du Beckett’s face, as if the gorgon was going right along with his master plan.

  For all I knew, du Beckett was. I couldn’t imagine any sane plan requiring that Rake be knocked flat by a harpy, bound with magic-sapping manacles, and backhanded bloody by a gorgon whose glove was all that had kept him from turning into garden statuary.

  But I wasn’t a crazy goblin, so what did I know?

  * * *

  The harpies took us up another three flights.

  Judging from his glasses, Sebastian du Beckett couldn’t see for crap in the daylight; at night he might as well have been tapping his way up the stairs with a white cane. Since he didn’t want to mar the archvillain vibe he had going by falling flat on his face, he granted me my third fondest wish—enough light to actually see where we were going. My first and second wishes were Ian with freed hands, and holding the gorgon-beheading weapon of his choice. With the way du Beckett had been ordering the harpies around, the girls probably didn’t like him much more than we did. If I’d known Greek, I’d have told them that slaves had been freed a long time ago in this country, and they should indulge themselves in an uprising.

  When it had first been built, the top floor of the hospital must have been a favorite spot for anyone who came up here. The curved wall was ringed with windows. Some of them were broken and I was more than fine with that. The air coming through was cold, but compared to what the stale air, mildew, and decay that the rest of the building had going for it, at least it was fresh.

  The only light in the room was from a Coleman lamp that Eddie had ordered, according to the invoice Kenji had found on the baby gorgon’s laptop, and it showed us the room’s sole occupant.

  Ben Sadler was sitting chained hand and foot to a huge radiator against the far wall, beneath a series of broken windows. His broken forearm hung in a sling, though that was the only concession to mercy. Since that wrist couldn’t be bound, Ben’s torso had been chained to the radiator instead.

  A blindfold hung around his neck.

  It took me a moment to realize why he had one.

  No anti-gorgon-glare glasses.

  What better way to terrify a prisoner into cooperating than to have him kidnapped by harpies, taken to an island hospital that’d been abandoned for fifty years, and chained in a room where they tossed heroin addicts to dry out. And once Ben had soaked in the ambience, he’d been blindfolded to keep his former client from accidentally turning him to stone before he could force Ben to use a terrifying ability he didn’t know he had the day before to cure du Beckett’s sorry ass while killing thousa
nds of people.

  Eddie Laughlin was standing guard from a few feet away.

  Wait, Ben didn’t have glasses and his blindfold was off. How could he . . .

  “Eddie must have outlived his usefulness to you,” Ian noted, his voice tight.

  “On the contrary, he’s providing continuous instruction to Mr. Sadler.”

  Ben was doing everything he could not to look at Eddie, but his haunted blue eyes inevitably glanced back at the gorgon, then quickly away, his breath coming faster.

  We were still outside the room, so he hadn’t seen us yet.

  Looking at a statue wouldn’t scare anyone that badly, even if you’d been forced to watch while it was done. Unless . . .

  I went very still. “He’s still alive.”

  “There is another human saying that applies here,” du Beckett said. “If you can’t be an example, serve as a warning. Mr. Sadler required a warning, and Mr. Laughlin had made one mistake too many.”

  “Let me guess,” Ian said. “Killing Denny Sykes and getting his apartment searched. And let me also guess: you were the one who infected him.”

  “Eddie’s greed was his downfall. To be quite honest, this is the most useful purpose he’s ever served. I require Ben’s cooperation at midnight. Once Eddie returned earlier this evening and regaled me with his latest ill-considered activities, I realized that he would be infinitely more useful serving as both an example and a warning to young Ben.”

  “So did you enjoy telling Ben that you never wanted him for his diamond appraising, and planned to use him to commit mass murder all along?”

  “I have received no pleasure from threatening Mr. Sadler. If I choose, I can reverse the process with Eddie—and your friend downstairs.”

  “Helena Thanos said that the paralysis is reversible for up to twelve hours,” I told Ian. I didn’t say that petrification would then set in, and Yasha would live in agony for hours after that as he turned to stone from the outside in until the petrification reached and consumed his major organs.

  Sebastian du Beckett knew all of that. He knew and he’d still paralyzed Yasha, and Eddie Laughlin, as well—after the bastard had infected him with gorgonism. Satan had special rooms set aside for men like that. Rake Danescu had already said he wanted to send du Beckett there; I’d never wanted to murder anyone in my life, but as of that moment, I’d do anything I could to put Sebastian du Beckett in the express lane to Hell.

  “If you’re cured at midnight,” Ian was saying, “you won’t be able to reverse the process.” Then his eyes met mine and widened in realization.

  And Yasha would die from old age and shock when he ceased to be a werewolf and became mortal again.

  Sebastian du Beckett said in an utterly flat and dead voice, “If I’m not cured at midnight, I never will.”

  30

  WITH my hands chained behind my back, I couldn’t look at my watch, but Eddie’s online shopping spree had taken care of that, too. On an old school desk was a digital clock with the time down to tenths of a second left until midnight.

  11:51:21

  Ben was Dorothy, du Beckett was the Wicked Witch, and instead of an hourglass, du Beckett had locked Ben in a tower with a state-of-the-art digital clock to let him know how long he had left.

  And a paralyzed gorgon to remind him that there’d be a price to pay for defiance.

  When we’d walked through that door, excitement, hope, and relief rushed over Ben’s face in rapid succession, ending with hope being shoved out the broken window behind him when he saw our harpy guards and our hands chained behind our backs.

  I could only imagine his devastation. Ian and I were the only people he knew who knew that monsters were real and that monsters had taken him. So we were the only people who he had any hope might come and save him.

  Even then, he had to doubt. We’d only known him for two days. Why would we risk our lives for him? And a man he did know and trust was the very monster who’d ordered him taken.

  My harpy escort released my arm, and crossed the room to Ben. He shrank from her touch when she grabbed his blindfold and pulled it back over his eyes. Shrinking was all he could do; whoever had chained him to the radiator had essentially lashed him there, so he’d have no choice but to look at Eddie Laughlin. Her job done, she returned to her station behind me. The hand on Ben’s unbroken right arm had been bound in such a way that his wrist was held immobile with the palm facing up—ready for du Beckett to put those diamonds in his hand at midnight. Ben could close his fingers into a fist to keep from taking the diamonds, but fingers could be broken, just like that harpy had broken his arm. Sebastian du Beckett had left Ben with no choice.

  Oh yeah, the thermostat in that special room in Hell had been raised to “Molten hot,” and a plaque with Sebastian du Beckett’s name on it had been put on the door. I wanted nothing more than to help him check in before midnight.

  As if reading my mind, the gorgon took a small pouch from his coat pocket. He opened it and poured the seven sparkling diamonds into his open hand. “Have you changed your mind, Mr. Sadler?”

  “Touch those diamonds and thousands die.” Ian pushed the words out in a rush in case du Beckett had omitted that part.

  The kid’s mouth went slack. “What?” he breathed.

  The gorgon hadn’t shared his evil master plan. Surprise, surprise.

  “You’ll kill thousands of people to cure yourself,” Ian continued.

  “Not people, Agent Byrne. Monsters. Thousands upon thousands of monsters. Creatures that are mutations, abominations of nature, things that can only exist by feeding on humans. SPI kills monsters.” He gave a tight smile. “Though when you have a monster in charge, exceptions are made.”

  “You just described yourself,” I said. “Vivienne Sagadraco is not a monster. If you want to see a—”

  “She’s a dragon,” du Beckett snapped. “Any human who’s ever drawn breath would scream in horror at the very sight of her.”

  “She would not slaughter thousands of innocents,” Ian said. “Elves, goblins, the fae, gnomes, beings who have never harmed a human. Yes, vampires feed from humans, but are forbidden under prosecution to feed from any human against their will, and will be put to permanent death if they kill. If there is a crime, there is a punishment. You have killed, not to survive, but premeditated murder, and you would kill thousands more merely to save yourself. You are your own definition of a monster, yet you expect mercy when you’re willing to give none.”

  Du Beckett sighed in mocking disappointment. “You’ve spoiled my surprise for Mr. Sadler, Agent Byrne, even after I paralyzed your werewolf friend. Now you dare to lecture me on my moral failings. Apparently one warning wasn’t enough.”

  The gorgon nodded to my personal harpy.

  Aw crap.

  Well, it wasn’t like I was really expecting to walk out of this anyway.

  Standing directly behind me, the harpy quickly crossed her arms through mine that were chained behind my back, locking me in place. Might as well have tied me to a steel column.

  Sebastian du Beckett reached out to remove my glasses. I closed my eyes and in desperation slammed my head back into the chin of the harpy holding me to try to loosen her grip. I might as well have rammed my head against a steel column, too. Though maybe I was now seeing enough stars to not be able to focus on Sebastian du Beckett’s gorgonism-infected eyes.

  I heard shouts and struggling from Ian, and I think even from Rake.

  The gorgon barked another command in Greek and the voices were silenced into muffled growls and hisses.

  A second harpy grabbed my head to hold it still, and I squeezed my eyes shut even tighter.

  Du Beckett sighed again. “Agent Fraser, don’t make this any harder on yourself than it has to be.”

  I clenched my jaw and my teeth in addition to my eyelids. Hell, I think I even tried to
pull my eyebrows down. The second harpy’s other hand pried my right eyelid open. Maybe only one eye would get me only half paralyzed. The whimper that escaped my lips told me I didn’t believe that.

  “Wait!” Ben shouted.

  I had one eye forced open, but I still refused to look at du Beckett.

  “You’re still wasting my time, Ben,” the gorgon’s voice was clipped with barely restrained rage. “You know what I require. The dimensional barriers are thinnest at midnight. Those diamonds will be in your hand and activated when that time arrives.” He made an impatient sound. “Agent Fraser, my helpers cannot touch your actual eye; their claws would puncture it, blinding you and rendering this most tiresome exercise moot. If you will not turn your eye toward me, then I shall be forced to get quite close to you, so that regardless of where you look, I will be there.”

  He moved and I screamed. I couldn’t help it.

  “I’ll do it!” Ben pleaded. “Just stop!”

  Sebastian du Beckett took one step back, and the harpy released my eyelid.

  Warm, stinging wetness flowed into and from my eye and down my cheek. It could have been tears, blood, or both. My breathing was ragged, and I think the harpy had punched holes in my skull with her claws. A couple of gasps later and my vision started to clear, and I had wind enough to speak.

  “Ben . . . don’t. He can’t do this unless you let—”

  The eyelid-grabbing harpy clamped her hand over my mouth.

  “Open your hand, boy,” du Beckett commanded. “Now.”

  I couldn’t hear or see Ian and Rake, but I had to assume they were as helpless as I was to stop what was about to happen.

  Ben did as he was told.

  11:59:00

  One minute until midnight.

  “Now close your fingers around them.”

  Ben’s wrist was bound so that he couldn’t dump the diamonds on the floor. I think if it were possible, he would’ve cut off his own hand to have the Dragon Eggs away from him right now. His breath came in trembling gasps as he closed his shaking fingers around the diamonds as if he’d been ordered to grab onto a cobra.