His penthouse was quiet—just how he liked it. He heard tap water running in the bathroom—Celesse was finishing up.
He grabbed a remote off his bed and turned on a TV mounted on his wall. His face was on the screen as a news reporter read a report.
“We have a report that Lucan Grimoire was in fact behind the incident at the Ancestral Bogs a few nights ago. According to this report, released by Grimoire’s campaign, he excavated a tomb belonging to the notorious dragon lord, Old Dark. They found the dragon still alive in the tomb, and brought him to his grimoire facility, where the dragon escaped and is now roaming the city at large.”
Old Dark’s emblem flashed on screen next to Lucan’s face.
“Old Dark, known formally as Lord Alsatius Dark II, is believed to be behind the killings of the Crafter dragons, Meah and Mynthia, and the disappearance of the dragon elder, Moss. He is described as a black dragon with a haggard appearance, an eyepatch, and yellow teeth. He is extremely dangerous, and the police have recommended that you do not engage him….”
Celesse ran her hand down his back. “You should stop watching the news.”
“Just want to see what they’re saying about me, that’s all,” Lucan said. “Also want to make sure they’re not saying anything bad about you.”
“I don’t care what they say,” Celesse said. “All I care about is you.”
Lucan glanced up at the screen again. Two political pundits were talking.
“Come on, Lucan lied. He lied. Not only did he do that, he probably broke the law. Why should he be governor?”
“This isn’t about abiding by the laws. It’s about someone who’s going to go to the Hall of Governance and shake the place out.”
“Oh, stop! He’s going to lose ground in the polls. If you’re a Lucan supporter, this is not a good day for you.”
Celesse turned off the TV. “Stop. We have work to do.”
Lucan slid into his black suit coat. “How many times do you think they’re going to spit on me when we go out there?”
“Stop!” Celesse cried. “Just focus on the donors. They’re scared, but you can reassure them. We can make this work for us.”
He grabbed her and brought her near. He kissed her long and passionately. She relaxed, kissing him back and then she put her head on his shoulder.
“I don’t know what I would have done without you, babe,” Lucan said.
Celesse kissed him on the cheek. “I love you, too. It’s time to go.”
She started out of the penthouse. Lucan took one last look at himself in the mirror, looking himself right in the eyes.
“I’m such a fucking mess,” he said.
He joined Celesse in the hallway.
XXVIII
The Donor’s Ball was held at one of the premier venues in the city, a glass crystal of an event center that looked like a wave of flames.
Cars filled the large, circular parking ramp, and the valet parking spilled onto the streets.
The press lined a silver carpet extending from the porte-cochère up a long stone staircase to the front entrance, a wall of glass with a Crafter-shaped chandelier that burned with magical, blue candles.
Every car that stopped was an event of photoflashes and name calls. For the world wanted to know who was coming to the Donor’s Ball, and to whom they were lending their support for the upcoming election. Dapper elven men stepped out of limos, wearing tuxedos and pledge pins; on their arms, elven women in sequin dresses, their hair hanging down to their shoulders.
Beside the glitz of the fancy clothing, one could see the colors of the gubernatorial campaigns; pink and purple and white. At the fringes of the event were supporters chanting their candidates’ names in the streets.
“Lucan!”
“Ennius!”
“Amal!”
And they held signs double-fisted, pumping them in front of the cameras while reporters covered the event, standing with microphones in front of bright lights.
“The election is nearing a historic end as the candidates attend the Donor’s Ball in a final attempt to garner valuable endorsements and donations. It’s not unusual for candidates to receive a strong wind of support after the ball—sometimes one that can breeze them to victory. That was certainly the case with Ennius Grimoire eight years ago….”
“Yes, he’s a pro at raising support, isn’t he?”
“In a way that we haven’t seen him capitalize on this year. If I were Governor Grimoire, I would have my best face on, and I would be shaking every hand in the place. He’s going to need the support.”
“Will he, after the recent scandal with his nephew?”
“If I were Governor Grimoire, I wouldn’t be comfortable with any lead until the day after election night, with victory in my grasp. If Lucan has proven anything, it’s that he’s a formidable opponent. It has been a crazy year….”
***
Lucan pulled Celesse tight as they entered a bustling room full of people, dragons and lights.
They paused at the top of the stairs leading down into the ballroom as a man introduced them.
“Mr. Lucan Grimoire and Celesse Cullis!”
“Here goes, babe,” he said, waving to a loud applause. “See my uncle yet?”
“Not yet. But he’ll show up. Don’t pay attention to him.”
“I’ll try not to. Oh, and we are getting engaged, by the way.”
Celesse was speechless. “What?”
Lucan waved again at the crowd and a guard motioned them to continue down the steps.
“Shouldn’t we talk about this first?” Celesse asked.
“Sure,” Lucan said. “But there’s no one I’d rather have at my side on day one. I mean it, babe.”
Celesse turned red. “This isn’t the time—”
He pecked her on the cheek. As they reached the bottom of the stairs, a crowd swarmed them. She let go in surprise and the crowd pulled them apart. She reached for Lucan and mouthed his name. He smiled at her momentarily. Then he turned and started shaking hands.
***
Dark waited in hiding on a skyscraper overlooking the event center. The shadows covered him as he lie in his stomach on the vegetated roof.
He surveyed the scene. From high above, he could make out people, dressed in formalwear, coming in and out of the building. Spotlights wavered in the sky, advertising the event. The streets were so bright—hundreds of cars moved down them like rays of light.
Narrowing his eyes, he spotted the entrance. The doors were human and dragon-sized. Distinguished Keepers and Crafters entered alongside humans and elves, which made Dark’s stomach churn. He searched the front grounds, where there were policemen walking the perimeter. His eyes went upward to the third story of the building, where there was a raised glass roof. He saw people mingling inside and guessed that this must have been the ballroom.
He ran his claws along the deep grooves of several grenades that Norwyn had given him. “There’s no point using magic when you don’t need to,” the white dragon had said.
Sirens wailed below, and a motorcade of black cars sped down the street toward the entrance. A long limousine with purple flags on the hood stopped directly in front of the door. People with cameras swarmed the car.
“Mr. Governor, Mr. Governor!”
Dark watched as Ennius stepped out of the car with a little girl. She had blue hair and wore a long white dress. He helped her out and waved to the cameras. He had never seen the girl before.
Dark stayed crouched in the shadows, waiting for his opportunity.
***
Miri held onto Frog’s mossy mane as he rocketed through traffic. The cold air only made her soaked clothes feel colder, for they hadn’t completely dried yet. She shivered.
As they flew, other dragons gave them mean looks.
“They’re not used to seeing an elf ride a dragon,” Miri yelled.
“Screw ‘em,” Frog said. “They got a problem, they can die.”
Frog has been irri
table since he picked her up. These were the first complete, non-one-word sentences he’d spoken on the flight.
Already, darkness crept across the horizon and filtered through the sky, changing it from navy to black. It was going to be a cloudy, rain-filled night, and Miri dreaded it.
“Why is Dark at the Donor’s Ball?” Miri asked.
“He made a deal,” Frog said.
“A deal with who?” Miri asked. She couldn’t hear him well in the wind.
“The governor.”
“Oh my god,” Miri said. “They’re working together?”
“Norwyn’s got him bent on a mission that I don’t agree with,” Frog said.
Miri shuddered. Lucan was at the Donor’s Ball. Anything might happen.
“Frog, is this going to get violent?”
“You’ve’nt a weak stomach, have you?”
“I need to know what to expect.”
Frog pointed to the distance, where spotlights criss-crossed in the night. “Be ready for anything, Charmwell.”
***
“Announcing Governor Ennius Grimoire and Madelaide Grimoire!”
Murmurs and applause electrified the room.
Lucan, who was courting an elven elder for support, turned upon hearing his daughter’s name. “What the actual f—”
“Daddy!”
Lucan dropped to one knee as his daughter ran to him. “Sweetheart, this is unexpected.”
Madelaide was wearing a white designer dress, and a silver tiara in her hair. She smiled at Lucan with a smile full of missing teeth—one that would have normally melted his heart. Now, it made him suspicious.
“Uncle Ennius brought me! He said it would be fun to surprise you.”
“Yeah, I’m surprised.”
“Is it true that there’s going to be dancing?” she asked, pointing to a wooden dance floor nearby.
“Yeah, but it’s pretty formal. I haven’t taught you the steps.”
“Uncle Ennius taught me!” Madelaide said, smiling. She stepped away and bowed. Then she pranced to the left, holding her hands out as if she had a partner. “One, two. One, two. One, two three. See?”
“Nice,” Lucan said, eyeing the crowd. Ennius approached. “So this is your idea of a surprise, eh, Unc?”
Ennius clapped Lucan on the shoulders and they paused for pictures. Lucan put on his best fake smile. When the cameras disappeared, he took his uncle by the arm and said “You don’t bring a kid to this kind of stuff.”
“What’s the harm in it?” Ennius asked. “She’s always asking for an excuse to see you.”
“What are the newspapers going to say when my goddamned uncle brings my daughter to a ball. It makes me look like stone-cold jerk.”
“You are a stone-cold jerk,” Ennius said. He broke away, smiled and took Madelaide by the hand. “Miss, would you join me for a drink? I believe they have a raspberry virgin daiquiri that is to die for.”
Madelaide cheered and Ennius led her toward the bar.
Celesse joined Lucan. “Something’s not right,” she said.
“Tell me about it,” Lucan said.
***
Amal sipped a glass of champagne, her eyes set on the entrance of the ball.
“When are they coming?” Demetrius asked.
“They’re dragons. They’re on their own time.”
“We’re almost an hour in. If they don’t make an appearance now, this whole thing will have been worthless.”
A crowd moved past, blocking her view of the entrance.
Then out of nowhere, Ennius was standing in front of her.
“Mrs. Shalewood, you look radiant tonight. Red is a good color on you.”
She wasn’t going to take his compliment about the red ball gown she was wearing—or Demetrius’s red tuxedo. It was just subterfuge.
Amal extended her hand. Ennius kissed it, then shook Demetrius’s hand.
“How are you enjoying the Ball?” Ennius asked.
“It’s just fine,” Demetrius said.
“I trust you’re drumming up support, then!”
The truth was that few donors talked to Amal. Most of them avoided eye contact. Some even directly told her that she was stealing votes away from Ennius and Lucan, and that she might as well take the money she raised tonight and run. She didn’t want the governor to know that. “I’m raising record support,” she said.
“Speaking of support, have you thought about my offer?” Ennius whispered. “Time’s up.”
All eyes went to the door, where a colorful band of dragons stood at the door. Redtail hovered in the center, looking around nervously. The guard, unsure how to introduce them, cleared his throat and said “A-hem! Announcing…Redtail and sundry other dragons.”
Ennius’s jaw dropped. “You brought traditionalist dragons to a Donor’s Ball? With what money are they going to support you?”
Redtail noticed Amal, and he and the dragons approached.
“Are you going to accept my offer or not?” Ennius asked.
“Excuse me,” Amal said, “I have to welcome my guests.”
***
Norwyn settled into his Abstraction Chamber. One by one, a plastic arm hooked metal tubes to his body, until he was aswim in a sea of wires.
He closed his eyes and eased into multi-consciousness.
In seconds, he was everywhere at once, a network of orbs flying all over the city, scanning it and sending data back.
Senator Oceanfield in her office, typing up a report…The sun dying in a small blaze on the westernmost part of the city…An occasional sentry walking the wet grounds of the Hall of Governance…two Governance employees exercising…indiscretion. On the ocean, a bedeviled string of lights far, far away, his orbs racing over the roiling waves…a snapshot, on the waves, of an army of boats…Traffic jam on Heroic Highway, estimated resolution time five minutes…one death in the downtown district hospital…A Keeper dragon crying on the roof…robbery on Fifth—perpetrator in the criminal database, police dispatched to his exact location…Dark on the roof of the Vine Building, watching the festivities of the Donor’s Ball…traffic backed up for blocks…dragon lanes clogged with Crafters…
He focused his energy on a single orb floating in an alley just outside the events center. He flew into the air and identified a security helicopter whirring around the perimeter. Flying higher in the sky, he followed the helicopter’s path.
Norwyn blinked his physical eye, and the orb beeped, emitting an electronic field, jamming the copter’s communications.
He heard a radio report…
“Mayday, mayday, we’ve lost control of our panel…”
The helicopter swung back and toward a dragon lane, which crossed directly above the events center. As it neared the dragons, frantic roars filled the sky as the helicopter teetered near.
The dragon lane shifted direction, flying over the events center in a long, colorful line.
Norwyn blinked again, deactivating the electronic field.
“We’re back up again…” the pilot said.
Norwyn cycled through his eyes again…two elves smoking in the parking lot of the events center…orb rising high into the sky over the waters…dragons on the waters…hundreds of dragons, sailing over the angry waters…rape reported on Westshire…men painting over graffiti in a park…rooftop of the Vine building where Dark was a moment ago…Dark not there…Dark gone…
***
“It’s time to speak,” Celesse said. “Remember, keep it brief and to the point. Don’t make any unnecessary digs against your uncle.”
Lucan nodded and kissed her on the cheek as a man at a podium on a stage announced his name. He stood and acknowledged a round of applause.
As he made his way to the stage, he told himself Keep it brief, Lucan. Keep it brief. Don’t start attacking him…Don’t…start…
He jogged up the stairs to the stage and shook the emcee’s hand. He took the podium, looking out at hundreds of people as the room went silent.
&
nbsp; I shouldn’t launch an attack. I really shouldn’t…Oh, fuck it. I’m going to rip him up.
As soon as he opened his mouth, the explosions began.
***
“Almost there,” Frog said.
Miri held on tight as Frog rose higher into the air.
“Any plans on what we’re going to do when we get there?” Miri asked. “We’re not going to be able to just walk in.”
“I was gonna leave that up to you,” Frog said.
A boom shook the air. Miri felt it in her chest and gasped.
“What was that?”
Frog turned hard around a skyscraper and the air was smoky with fire and cordite. Through the smoke they saw the event center.
It was on fire.
***
Lucan dove offstage as a rack of lights came crashing down. A sheath of glass from the skylights below rained down across the floor. There was screaming everywhere, and suddenly the ground shook from another explosion, and the crowd began stampeding to the doors on both sides of the room.
“What the hell?” Lucan said. His forehead was bleeding from a glass cut.
He pulled himself up, looked around. He saw Celesse lying on the ground.
“Celesse!”
He dashed to her and picked her up.
“I’m okay,” she said. “I just fell.”
“We’ve got to get out of here,” Lucan said. “Have you seen Madelaide?”
Celesse shook her head.
They ran.
***
“Come on, Madelaide!” Ennius yelled.
Madelaide tried to keep up with her uncle.
Ennius and several security guards made their way through the foyer. The glass roof was cratered from where an explosion had rocked the building. A large indoor tree lay strewn across the floor, its roots exposed. And all throughout was the harsh smell of smoke.
Madelaide was crying.
Ennius turned and scooped her off the ground, carrying her.
“It’s going to be all right, sweetie.”
Old Wicked (The Last Dragon Lord Book 3) Page 11
