Flames to Free (Dred Dixon Chronicles Book 1)

by N. A. Grotepas

  He mused on this topic for a few more moments and I began to yawn. Finally, there was a break in his lecture and I asked him to teach me levitation or stasis. It was no surprise, really, that he refused and continued with whatever his lesson plan was. He taught me another air spell called Whirlwind Eye, for throwing stationary objects. He clearly thought that I was going to be in situations that were akin to battle, which I was, but levitation and stasis were such basic spells. I needed them. I needed them now.

  “How many more lessons till we’re through with my education, Orrin?”

  “There are one thousand, two hundred and forty-six lessons.”

  I gaped. “You realize that I’ll be like sixty-five by the time you finish with all of those?”

  He paused. “No, I—again, I regret to remind you that I have no concept of the passage of time.”

  “You’re going to need to double these up, buddy. Otherwise I’ll never know anything. More than double up. Probably do three or four lessons at a time. Does every ghostly tutor take this long? Is this a universal technique or is it special to you? Maybe you have a book I could borrow to learn this stuff?”

  “A book? Hmm. I should ask Emma about that.”

  “Emma?”

  “Yes, a friend of mine. She’s also currently offering her services as a tutor.”

  “Is she nice?”

  “She’s wonderful. Everyone loves her acerbic wit and sense of humor.” There was a fondness in his voice I’d never heard before. Wow, that surprised me.

  Emma. I longed for a tutor that everyone loved named Emma. A sense of humor? Had I just struck out in the ancestral-tutor market? Anyone would be better than Orrin, honestly. A murdering ex-con would be preferable to him. And I couldn’t believe I was hearing that there was something in the universe that he appreciated.

  Orrin suddenly looked up, alarmed, and began to fade.

  I followed his gaze and saw the patio door closing behind Vivian, who leaned her back against it, looking more curious than a feline.

  “Who is this?” Orrin hissed at me, still almost invisible.

  “My new roommate.”

  “You were to have gotten rid of your roommates.”

  “I did. This is different.”

  He floated toward her and as he did, I watched her eyes grow wide in alarm. She fumbled to open the door behind her and failed. She’d have to brave the ghost bearing down her.

  28

  Orrin stopped directly in front of Vivian before the girl could get away.

  I felt for her, I really did, especially as she seemed to shrink back into the door as the ghost got closer to her. But I was also a tiny bit interested in seeing what happened, in seeing if being scared by a ghost could tame her wild rebelliousness.

  She was out of her league, and while she had seemed comfortable and at home in Gingerbread, like nothing could faze her, there was more to the supernatural world than she’d witnessed there.

  Ghosts were just one of those things. Vampires were another, and I wondered idly if she’d bumped into any of those.

  Well, the fact that she was still standing—with Orrin the schoolmaster ghost staring right into her eyes, hovering in front of her like sheets on a clothesline—meant that she’d likely not had occasion to meet any bloodsuckers.

  Yet.

  If she had, I suspected she’d have less trust of Orrin.

  “What is your name, young one?” Orrin asked, his voice taking on a chilling echo, like he was speaking inside a church. Or a mausoleum.

  She flinched. “Viv-viv-vivian.”

  “Viv-viv-vivian?”

  Oh, it was always such a crowd favorite, that joke. Was Orrin playing a game or did he really think her name was Viv-viv-vivian? He had no sense of humor, let alone a cultural grasp on the sort of humor that had poisoned modern society. We might as well be living on different planets for all the shared culture the two of us had. Meaning, none. He was stuffy, boring, and proper. And I was obscene, loud, uncouth, offensive, bawdy, and might as well be selling myself in a brothel for money.

  That was a sampling of the kind of things Orrin had said over the past few weeks during our lessons.

  Luckily I had a better sense of who I was than this relic did.

  “Just Vivian, Orrin. One word,” I said, helpfully.

  “Then why did she say ‘Viv-viv-vivian? Is she from another land?” He turned partially to look over his ghostly shoulder at me.

  “You’re scaring her. She’s nervous, so she stuttered.”

  “Frightened? Of me? I’m harmless.”

  “She dosen’t know that. And you’re a ghost. Traditionally humans are scared of ghosts.”

  “As a ghost I have no corporeality. Nothing to touch your world with. I’m a projection from another dimension into this one.”

  So that was how it worked. I was very interested in hearing more about what he meant, but it was time to intervene. I crossed the patio, passing beneath the violet umbrella of Japanese maple leaves and stopped in front of Vivian. Orrin fluttered away to hover over us. He really hated to not be taller than me.

  “This is my mentor. Orrin,” I said, introducing him like I introduced people to ghosts all the time. I did seem to know a few ghosts. I’d never thought about it quite that way, but I guess that made me special. “He’s a ghost.”

  Vivian brought her gaze down to me and smirked. “I noticed. Why didn’t you tell me there would be a ghost here?”

  “I thought you were wise about the world, kid. After living in Gingerbread, is there anything you haven’t seen?”

  “I haven’t seen a ghost.”

  “Pupil,” Orrin said, hovering closer to me as though to share a secret. “I don’t like the way she’s talking to you. The only person who may address you like that, is me. Because I’m the mentor.”

  “She’s had a rough day, Orrin. But she knows she’s got just one more strike. One more and I really will just leave her to her own devices. But first, a lesson, from me.” I held up a finger. “You know now that there are ghosts. Let me scare you straight, Vivian. There are also vampires. Demons. Ogres, and cruel fae. Before Hank and I came to get you, I was nearly killed by a dryad.”

  “Dryad?” Vivian asked, her face betraying curiosity.

  “You’re more worried about dryads than vampires?”

  She shrugged. “Vampires are—I don’t know. Kind of cool. Rebellious.”

  “Oh hell, no. No, that’s Hollywood. Real vampires aren’t cool. Or rebellious. And they don’t sparkle. Although, I have to give it to the one who came up with that—it’s kind of cool. Like they’re made of stone, you know? Granite? If only they were cool or sparkled. That would be so much better than the reality.”

  Her eyes studied me and she flicked her short hair with the shake of her head. “Whatever, Dred. Just my opinion.”

  “You can have it. But don’t think you’ll have a fun time when or if you ever meet vampires. They aren’t the fun high school version.”

  Orrin fluttered close to Vivian again and looked her up and down. “This one, pupil, her magic will be—” he began.

  I cut him off. “Hang on. Whoa. No spoilers, Orrin. She deserves to find out on her own. Discovery, that sort of thing.”

  “I’m going to have magic?” she asked, her eyes wide.

  “Great. Spoiled already.” I said, scowling at Orrin. “Yes. Usually that’s why you can see supers. Because you’re waiting for your magic to wake up.”

  “How does that happen?” Her tone was suddenly more curious that biting, and if I didn’t know better, I would have said there were stars in her eyes.

  Before I could answer, a yawn interrupted me.

  “I hate to do this, Orrin,” I said, sighing. “But I’ve had a long day and it’s bedtime for me. I know it doesn’t mean much to you, at all, but please figure out a faster way to teach me.”

  “Insubordination,” the stodgy ghost said, fluttering away from me and fading. “But I will see what I can do.”


  “Let’s go inside, Vivian. I’ll give you a small crash course on all this while you eat a bowl of cereal.”

  It goes without saying—doesn’t it?—that having a child to look after wasn’t my favorite thing in the world. I mean, if I’d wanted kids already, I would have had them, right? But even pushing thirty . . . or thirty-one . . . I wasn’t feeling that hungry maternal instinct yet.

  Kids were great. I had nothing against them. And at least with Vivian, I didn’t have to suffer through the early years. Now I could force all my life lessons and wisdom on a near-adult and see how cool she’d turn out.

  “Dottie, you evil witch you, this is our newest member, Vivian—hey, wait, what’s your last name?” I turned to look at the kid.

  She had that deer in the headlights look, flicking her gaze between me and Dorothy. “I can’t—if I tell you, you’ll track my family down.”

  “No I won’t. I give you my word. I think we’ve established that I keep it. I’ll do no such thing until both of us are ready to.”

  “Swear it?”

  I raised my hand. “Flameheart’s honor.”

  Dottie stood up and leaned across the chest high desk.

  “You can trust Dred, child. She’s the only one in this joint that I’d trust with my life. The only one.” Dottie’s heavily eye-shadowed eyes sparkled up at me. We had a kinship, her and I, and it was no joke—she was an amazing judge of character. I expected to see her size up Vivian in no time and give me a full rundown on the kid’s strengths, insecurities, and flaws.

  “Taft,” she said, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms as though to ward off judgment. “Vivian Taft.”

  “Taft?” I said, a bit louder than I wanted to. I put my hand on her back and began to march her away.

  Dorothy leaned across her desk and grabbed me by the shirt.

  “Nope, no you don’t, woman. I just backed you up.”

  I turned. Vivian turned. We all stood there like the three stooges, frustration on our faces.

  “You didn’t tell me you were a Taft,” I said, my heart pushing blood to my face in a hot bath of frustration.

  “I know, but see what I mean?” the kid pouted.

  “Doesn’t matter, Dred,” Dottie said. “You gave your word. And I’m a notary, so I can’t be compromised by this. Not to mention, I don’t like backing up someone’s word just to be hoodwinked.”

  “I’m not going to take her home, Dottie. I’m just—” I said, growling in frustration. The Tafts!

  The Taft family was one of the oldest families in the Salt Lake valley. They were what passed for bloodline nobility for being original settlers and founders of the city. Perhaps by accident—who knew?—locals would drop their voice into a near whisper as though to pay homage to the family. “He’s a Taft,” or, “She married a Taft,” and, “He’s screwing a Taft,” or even, “That’s the rebellious Taft.” Or like, “The Tafts donated this, it’s their wing of the hospital…” “They own this bank or that thing or they’re offering a scholarship to business leaders…”

  It was endless. And tiresome.

  It was hard to keep track of all the places they meddled. I didn’t like them. They were money, old money, and they were power. Some thought it was deserved and a blessing from god or the light and obviously it was due to their unceasing righteousness and how they shared their wealth.

  I didn’t care. I didn’t like them. And they didn’t like me.

  Well, at least they didn’t like what we represented at the Flameheart fortress. Imperfection in a world they liked to believe was perfect. One that their version of god smiled upon. And they knew of us, because they had a liaison, an intermediary who knew of the supernatural community and relayed information between us and them.

  They didn’t know me personally, at least not until now, and only if someone let them know I had Vivian under my wing. And now I felt like I’d stepped deep into the caca with that possibility looming on my horizon. I could see clearly at this point that I had my wing over, not an innocent fledgling, but a dangerous impostor whose heritage had the ability to crush me if she wanted.

  “Dottie,” I began again, “she’s a Taft. A Taft!”

  “I know what she said. You’re a Dixon, so what? Hank’s a Stone. Yiska’s a Barlow, Cristian’s a Drakos… where are we going with this?” She put one long bright blue fingernail with glittering gems on it across her brilliant hot pink lips.

  I bit my tongue. Vivian had put on a sulky scowl. Again. Her arms were crossed and her head was in danger of being absorbed into her chest like a turtle withdrawing into its shell.

  “This never happened in Gingerbread,” she sighed. “I should just go back there. No one cared who I was. I was just me.”

  “Oh, this is our Gingerbread girl! I thought you looked like a brave young woman,” Dottie said, instantly adopting the mothering kindness that I was somehow lacking.

  Of course Vivian was the Gingerbread girl. Dottie already knew that. What was she doing?

  Vivian’s face lit up the tiniest bit. “I liked it there. It was cool.”

  “Oh, me too. I love that town. They should get vacation rentals. I’d be there all the time. And if they added some kind of gambling—slot machines or bingo—you could never pull me away.”

  Vivian looked fully at Dottie, like she was seeing her for the first time. “You like gambling? Bingo?”

  “Oh, my dear, yes. Every weekend I’m out in Wendover betting all my savings—and adding to them, I should point out. I have a knack for bingo, almost like I’m clairvoyant…”

  “Or a manipulator of nearby events.” My tone was dry. They both glared at me. OK, fair enough. I was spoiling their bonding moment.

  I watched and listened as the two of them chatted and Dottie wound the girl around her pinky finger, working her way into Vivian’s affections. It was like watching a Dutch master negotiate light and darkness, turning them into a spell on canvas. It was second nature to Dottie. It wasn’t for me, but I could learn.

  Finally, Dottie turned to me. “She may be a Taft. But this one is special. Unlike the rest of them.”

  Vivian blushed, but she stood up a bit straighter.

  “Well, wonderful, I’m so glad you two are into this. Because you’ll be working together a lot. She’ll be interning here. While I’m away on field work, I’ll need you to look out for her.”

  “Where will I sleep when you leave?” Vivian asked, looking concerned. “I can’t go back to my family. If I do, they’ll never let me come here.”

  I looked directly at her. She wanted to come here? A subtle change, but a move in the right direction. I held back a gleeful scream and permitted myself a small smile.

  I guess it was time to give her the spare key to my place. And visit the resident motor pool expert.

  29

  First, I introduced Vivian to the rest of the team, at least the people who were present. There were agents on our team who resided most of the time in the field.

  The kid officially met Bianca and Cristian, Louis and Jackson, Sargent Flick, and finally Bronco and we even bumped into Minx, the sprite who had a longtime, mostly friendly rivalry with Lucy.

  She also met Lucy when the resident ghost decided to lock us in the basement bathroom after we paid Bronco’s training area a visit.

  Lucy could be territorial, lashing out when she was feeling threatened or frightened. And since Vivian was taking center stage for me at the moment, I guess the ghost was feeling neglected.

  It’s hell to be popular.

  I did wonder how Lucy managed to manipulate space and time at the fortress after what Orrin had said the night before about having no way to tangibly interact with my world, since he was a projection from another dimension. Maybe there were other types of ghosts, types like him who were on loan from other dimensions and weren’t permanent residents here, like Lucy.

  Adelaide handled the vehicles as well as the magical weapons, so we met her in the basement motor pool room where
a vast garage extended beneath the city block. An exit popped up beside the train tracks near the restaurant Red Iguana 2. It was shielded, of course, so the only people who saw it were paranormals like myself.

  “What’s this about, Dred?” Adelaide asked, cocking her hip to one side. She exuded her typical attitude. I bristled as I came up against her vibe. I cleared my throat and shrugged, pushing back my natural desire to punch her. We got along because we had to. She was a hard one to deal with for me.

  “Hey, Adelaide. This is Vivian. I wanted to introduce you guys. And also ask if you have something you can loan Vivian? Something small. Unobtrusive. That she can use to get back and forth between here and my house, where she’ll be staying for the foreseeable future.”

  “What about you?” Adelaide did a gesture like she was sprinkling pixie dust over us. “You, Dred? Chauffeur, guardian, the works.”

  “Occasionally, yes, but this will be for when I’m out on a job and can’t be here shuttling her around.”

  Vivian shifted beside me and I knew she was feeling uncomfortable with being discussed like she wasn’t present for the third or fourth time since she’d met me.

  “Alright. Fine. Have it your way.” Adelaide tapped her cheek and pursed her lips. “For her? I have a Mini Cooper. Two door. Or a moped.”

  That was Adelaide for you—all business. No frills, no fun. I looked at Vivian, who’d somehow turned into the shy kid with her hands shoved into her pockets, looking awkward and scared. It clashed loudly with her ear-gauges and black T-shirt.

  “You have a preference? Mini Cooper or a moped?”

  “Can I see them?” She asked.

  I suddenly felt like Q in James Bond and something about that irked me. Why, I didn’t know, because that franchise was amazing and the tricked out car stuff was always one of the best parts.

  But, well, I had important shit to do. Instead, I was helping a spoiled teenager decide what car she would pick so that she could leech off me and my goodwill.