“Daniel, leave her alone. You’ve got to admit that I look far guiltier than Richard. Myrna can’t change that, and neither can you.”
Daniel scowled but fell silent, jamming his hands into the pockets of his jeans and rocking back on his heels. He turned to Myrna.
“So what can we do to help her?”
I wasn’t particularly happy to see that Myrna—the woman trained in dragon problem solving—didn’t have an answer.
She shook her head. “Relobu has agreed to allow a human audience to attend the meeting tomorrow, which means at least your trial will more closely resemble a human trial. And it likely also means that an execution is off the table, should you be found guilty.”
“Well. That’s something, I guess.”
Daniel didn’t seem too happy about the situation either, but then again, I hadn’t seen him anything but frustrated in a long while. He leaned over to give me a quick peck on the cheek. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours. I’ve got a story to turn in.”
I nodded, surprised and maybe just a little bit hurt. I mean, I hadn’t really expected him to offer to move into jail with me, but I didn’t expect him to dismiss my plight in lieu of filing a story either.
Daniel left the room without a backward glance.
“Wow. You’ve got it bad.” Myrna eyed me with interest, and I could tell she was dying to ask me about what I’d been doing in India.
Unfortunately, Daniel’s abrupt attitude hadn’t put me in the mood to share yet another of my bonehead moves in the dating department. “Yeah, well. Looks like I’m the only one.”
Myrna’s gaze returned to the now-empty doorway. “Looks like,” she murmured.
Chapter Twenty-Five
If I’d learned one thing over the past couple of weeks, it was that boredom was the worst form of torture. Myrna had done her best to keep me occupied, but with Emory’s absence and the recent bombing, DRACIM needed her for—well, everything. So when she received the third urgent message requiring her immediate response, I took pity on her and told her I’d be fine on my own.
I chanced another look at my cellmate and sighed. The guy, somewhere in his mid-fifties, had been brought in about an hour ago, reeking of alcohol. Once inside the tiny holding area, he’d promptly staggered to the thin metal bed bolted to the wall and passed out, his snores nearly rivaling those of the dragon in India.
As if he subconsciously knew I was watching, the man shifted on the bed, curling a long arm under his head and rolling onto his side. Unfortunately, during his obviously impressive drinking binge earlier in the evening, he’d managed to lose his pants. And now his movements had caused the thin blanket a policeman had wrapped precariously about his waist to come untucked, giving me a full and unobstructed view of things I’d rather not ever see again.
Naturally the hour I’d been forced to spend in a gin-soaked cell with a naked-bottomed drunk is the same hour Richard chose to resurface. And of course, he was, as usual, meticulously dressed while I looked like a rumpled mess. Even with the clothes Trian had picked up for me on our stop, I knew I looked just as bad as the mug shot I’d taken upon arrival said I did.
Pacing, I waited while Richard spoke to the officer on duty at the door. And when he was finished, I wasn’t exactly welcoming. I couldn’t believe he’d had the gall to stop by. “What do you want?”
“Hi.” Richard’s eyes flicked to the sleeping drunk. “I came as soon as I heard you were back. How are you holding up?”
“How am I holding—” I was so angry I could barely speak. “Are you freaking kidding me? How do you think I’m doing, Richard? I’m sitting in a jail cell, charged with a crime I didn’t commit. A crime, I might add, that carries a very high probability of a life sentence as soon as Relobu gets around to collecting me.
“How dare, you, Richard Green! How dare you walk in here and pretend we’re going to be friends? I can barely look at you I’m so angry right now.”
My chest was heaving by the time I’d finished my tirade, and the drunk had sat up and was eyeing me with bleary confusion.
Richard glanced toward the bed and winced. “Look, I have something I need to talk to you about, but I’d rather do it in private.”
I took a deep breath, ready to repeat my earlier sentiments when Richard said the only words that would even remotely cause me to listen.
“I can get you out of here.”
As if on cue, the police officer came back, keys in hand.
“Relobu’s cleared me?” That was fantastic news. I performed an impromptu jig, so excited about possible freedom that I was willing, for the moment, to forget Richard was a two-faced liar.
The drunk, inspired by my enthusiasm, decided to join in the fun and dance with me. I wasn’t sure whether it was by accident or design, but somehow his left hand found a good chunk of my right buttock, and I gasped in surprise.
“Hey, that’s enough there. Back off the lady.” The officer nudged the drunk good-naturedly back toward the bunk, then stepped aside to allow my exit.
Richard walked with me down the short hall toward the station’s sole interrogation room. “I’m afraid you’ll have to meet with Lord Relobu before you can really leave, but we have a few minutes. We’ll be able to talk in here.”
The officer opened the door and then left us alone, efficiently palming the bill Richard offered in exchange for his service.
Great. Now we were bribing police officers.
I sat down at the table, suddenly much less excited. I knew exactly why Richard had made the effort to come and see me. And his next words cemented the conclusion.
“So. I’ve scheduled your meeting with Lord Relobu first thing tomorrow morning. And I think it will be best if you avoid mentioning some facts that might be triggers for Relobu’s anger. For example—”
“Richard. I’m not going to lie for you.”
“Oh no, I’m not asking you to lie, exactly. I just think that it would be best if you didn’t mention anything about the night Emory and I met at the hotel.”
I didn’t say anything. I just stared at him.
Visibly irritated when I didn’t immediately agree with his suggestion, Richard reached a hand toward my arm. “Please, Carol. It’s just easier this way.”
“Easier for you, yes. But Richard, think about it. Say I neglect to mention anything that paints you in a negative light. What are you going to do when Emory heals up?”
He didn’t answer, and I suddenly realized what Richard was suggesting.
“You’re going to set Emory up to take the fall!” I stood, too shocked to process what I was hearing. “You’d let him rot in prison for a crime he didn’t even commit!”
His hand remained clamped to my skin. “For us, Carol. For us. Relobu gave me my job back.” His gaze was intense, as if he could mentally force my understanding.
But I understood all too well. “Richard, no matter how amoral, or how downright annoying Myrna’s former boss can be, I will not sentence him to death, not even to save my own life. And especially not to save yours.”
I yanked my arm from his grasp and motioned through the door for the officer to take me back to my cell.
“Carol, think about this. Within six months, I’m sure I’ll be able to manufacture at least a dozen working prototypes of the bioweapon we lost at DRACIM. We sell most of those to the dragon lords and hope they take themselves out in territory wars. We use the money they give us to make even more. And with my job back, I’m in the perfect position to activate one within Relobu’s home? By the end of next year we’d finally be free of the dragons’ rule.”
Even now, it surprised me that beneath his outwardly easygoing demeanor, Richard had a fanatic’s view of the world. I still didn’t understand how he managed to keep it hidden. I’d known his father had been injured by dragons, but I’d had no idea Richard blamed the entire species for the attack.
His words brought a deep sadness to my heart. This man had been twisted by his hurt, so much so that
he couldn’t even see reason.
“Do you hear yourself? You’re talking about killing people, Richard. Dragons, humans, anyone who stands in your way.”
“My father may still be breathing, but he died the day those dragons broke his back. They deserve to be killed.”
“All dragons aren’t the same.” Richard’s attitude made me examine my own position on dragons. Before my trip to China with Myrna, I’d thought they were all beasts, with skill enough to communicate with us, but without the spark of consciousness that made them individuals.
And then I’d gotten to know Trian. Who messed up royally the first time around, but who more than made up for his mistakes and loved my friend with a passion that made me jealous. And Savitri, who loved her mate with the same unswerving loyalty.
I thought of Daniel, who I’d believed to be someone special. Someone who cared for me the way Trian cared for Myrna.
But he’d left, more worried about his filing deadline. And I hadn’t seen him all day. In my recent experience, dragons had more capacity for caring than most humans.
“They are all the same. They are killers. And I will see to it that every single one of them dies. If you choose to align yourself with monsters, I have no choice but to treat you as one.” His statement was a pronouncement of fact.
Obviously, I had no chance of convincing Richard he was wrong. And it made me more sad than angry.
“Goodbye, Richard.”
I left the room, the echo of Richard’s sudden withdrawal into the smooth and urbane shell he wore so well haunting me the entire trip back to my cell.
* * *
“Hey, is that you?” The young police officer was back on duty, staring at an expensive-looking television showing a local news program.
Until he’d switched it on with a small pop, I hadn’t even noticed it hanging from the wall—it was clear I was back in Relobu’s territory where the dragon lord was not subtle about keeping the human police force as his “friends” by gifting them electronic toys that were prohibitively expensive for the average human.
The officer pointed at the screen, which was indeed displaying a picture of me, pulled from the CreaTV employee directory. I gazed longingly at the long waves of reddish-gold hair that tumbled over my shoulders as I rubbed my shorter, shaggier tresses. Until I caught some of the commentary.
“Carol Jenski, creative director with CreaTV, is accused of orchestrating the attack on DRACIM’s Tulsa headquarters a month ago, causing the deaths of eleven dragons. Her trial will be held tomorrow, in the home of Lord Nir Relobu. The trial will be governed by dragon custom, with a short period of arguments followed by a summary judgment from the dragon lord.”
Someone had really done their homework. Pictures of me from childhood to just a few months ago flashed across the screen, accompanied by running commentary on my life. The segment was incredibly thorough. I was half surprised they didn’t mention my favorite cereal.
“That would be me.”
The young man gazed at me with calculating eyes. “That’s something crazy that you did to those dragons. I’ve never guarded someone who’s been on television before.” He paused, as if mulling over his words. “It’s kinda cool.”
I gave him a tight smile, unwilling to spend the time and energy it would take to explain that my current situation was, in fact, not “kinda cool.”
I wondered whether Daniel would be disappointed that he’d missed the story of the century. By now, the coup in faraway India held nothing to the sensationalism of a dragon murder trial.
I wondered whether he’d filed his precious story.
“Do you happen to have a copy of today’s Tulsa Times Chronicle?”
The boy hustled over to the lone metal desk and snagged the paper, passing it to me through the bars.
Right there, on the very first page was Daniel’s story about the coup. He’d met his deadline. And he’d left me in a jail cell while he did it. After Daniel’s impassioned speech about how I deserved better treatment than I’d received from Richard, I’d been nothing but a source to him. A source with convenient bedroom benefits.
As tears smudged the ink on the newsprint, I wondered how it was possible to have my heart broken this many times and still be breathing.
The newscaster on the television had no sooner finished his story when my escorts arrived. Four uniformed officers, with guns strapped to their hips, quickly and efficiently pushed through the swarming media just outside the door and placed me safely inside a waiting vehicle.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The officers didn’t bother to cuff me, they simply pulled into Relobu’s driveway and helped me out before hopping back into the car and speeding away. Because really, where could I run? The place was swarming with dragons, every single one glaring at me with pure hatred.
I ducked my head to avoid their eyes as an aging human butler showed me inside.
My trial was considerably less fancy than the Chinese dragon lord’s had been, though it felt almost as crowded. Unlike the gala in Budapest, the room was equipped with only two rows of chairs, both facing the single podium in the center of the room. Both rows had been filled with humans, most of whom I recognized. A single row of dragon perches had been placed behind the human chairs, their heavy wooden beams providing a sturdy bar for a dragon’s birdlike feet to grip. Each and every perch was filled to capacity with unfamiliar dragons, as well as every empty space around the edges of the room.
I’d drawn quite a crowd this morning. When I’d pressed, Myrna had told me most of these dragons were family members of those who had died in the DRACIM disaster. The thought brought tears to my eyes.
Up front, beside the podium, was a single chair that I supposed belonged to me.
I’d been briefed on the format of the proceedings. First, I would be allowed to share my side of the story, and would be asked questions from the audience, including the dragon lord, should he be so inclined.
Then, any party who was willing would be given the opportunity to testify on my behalf, or against me.
Which is why I wasn’t surprised to find Richard sitting in one of the empty seats. He was here to call me a liar. Emory sat beside him in a wheelchair, his face almost unrecognizable from the broken nose and jaw. Evidently Richard had managed to bribe his way into the hospital room, and Emory had been all too eager to take Richard up on his offer to “misremember” the details of that night in Budapest. In his lap lay a notepad filled with writing, and I realized he planned on offering his own testimony.
Myrna, seated next to Trian, gave me a strained smile. She was wearing her DRACIM insignia, a small pendant in the shape of a dragon, on the lapel of her jacket. She too had sheets of paper folded in her hand, and I realized she was here to not only offer me moral support, but DRACIM’s support as well. I hoped she wouldn’t lose her job over this. I gave her a small wave before taking my seat.
There was no sign of Daniel.
I tried to tell myself it was because members of the media had been specifically excluded from the proceedings, but I knew that wasn’t the reason he didn’t show. Myrna had offered to provide one of the DRACIM passes should he wish to attend and he’d refused, saying he had “other plans.”
The great dragon sat on his perch near the back of the room, surveying the area with a sharp eye. Much larger than Lady Savitri, he towered over the human occupants even when seated on a perch. His beard, a rippling waterfall of scaled flesh that reached nearly to the floor, gave Lord Relobu a distinct grandfatherly appearance.
Except this grandfather had neatly severed the neck of a Chinese dragon lord barely a month ago.
And this time, it was my head on the chopping block.
The trial was called to order by a small purple dragon around my height. He stood just behind the podium, and let out a roar. Soon, all of the other dragons had joined in the call just as they had at Hian-puo’s trial, with Lord Relobu’s deep baritone completing the formal announcement.
; Emory frowned at the realization that the trial would be conducted in dragonspeak instead of English.
Myrna took pity on her former boss, though I have no idea why, and signaled for a translator to move into position beside his wheelchair.
Nervous, I blurted out my testimony in jerky sentences, starting with my reasons for joining the DRACIM and Relobu teams going to China, and ending with my flight back to the United States on Trian’s back. Several members of the audience asked me additional questions, though once the dragons realized Lord Relobu planned to enforce a strict anti-heckling policy, the “questions” died down considerably.
Richard was next, and I had to admit that he wove his lies into pieces of the real story so skillfully that I half believed his version of the events.
Myrna and Emory’s stories lined up perfectly with mine and Richard’s, respectively. I was depressed to note that Richard had prepped Emory well, so that all Myrna’s former boss had to do was point at specific sections of his pre-written statements for the answers.
I was surprised when Dreru, the dragon on our security detail in China and the provider of my first flight by dragonback, shuffled to the podium. He kept his remarks brief and unemotional, refusing to state his opinion on anything at all, offering facts only. I’m not sure whether his testimony helped or hurt me—as he was unable to give insight on the most serious of Richard’s lies because he’d been busy providing more general security at Hian-puo’s trial when the actual bomb movement was arranged. However, the very fact that a dragon got involved in the proceedings helped to settle the tempers of the scaly portion of the audience. I gave him a nod in thanks.
After Dreru’s testimony, Lord Relobu stood and asked the waiting crowd if there were any others who wished to share their knowledge of the events. For a moment the audience fell silent.
Then a very welcome, very male voice sounded from the back entrance. As many times as this man had appeared out of thin air, I was beginning to wonder if he had superpowers.
Dancing with Dragons Page 22
