Skulk of Foxes (The Fractured Faery Book 3)

by Helen Harper

  I flicked another page. ‘George Lung. Blimey. Do you think he was mates with Dick Stiff and Willie Throat and Billy Nose and Boris Arse?’

  I really shouldn’t have downed that potion. We were never going to find what we needed.

  Opulus, who’d been keeping quiet, rose abruptly to his feet. ‘Say that again,’ he said.

  ‘Dick Stiff, Willie Throat, Bi—’

  ‘Not that you foolish girl. The other one. The other name.’

  I frowned. ‘You mean George Lung?’

  He snapped his fingers. ‘That’s it.’

  Morgan’s expression cleared. ‘Do you really think that’s it?’

  Opulus raised a single shoulder. ‘It’s where the potion led us.’

  ‘It’s where my vomit led us,’ I said. I paused. ‘Led us where, though?’

  Morgan turned to me. ‘Lung. It’s a variation of Liung.’

  I waited for more. When he didn’t continue, I gestured impatiently. ‘I’m going to need a little more than that.’

  ‘Liung is Chinese for dragon.’

  ‘That’s a little tenuous, isn’t it?’

  ‘Actually,’ Morgan said with a sudden gleam in his eye, ‘I don’t think it is.’ He held out his hand. ‘Give me the book.’

  I passed it over. There was still a considerable amount of vomit on it. Morgan made a moue of distaste. ‘Vegetables, Maddy. You need to eat fewer kebabs and Pot Noodles and more vegetables.’

  ‘Well,’ I told him, ‘at least you can’t ever say that you don’t know me inside out.’

  Morgan smiled slightly before flipping through the pages, his eyes scanning each one as he searched. When his body tensed, I knew he’d found what we were looking for. ‘We have an address,’ he crowed. ‘He was moved from Diggle not long after he was born. This could be it.’

  ‘You have an address from the fifteenth century,’ I pointed out, peering over his shoulder. ‘How useful is that going to be? Anyway, how can you read that? It’s barely legible.’

  ‘It’s Moss Side,’ Morgan said. He jabbed at the entry. ‘That particular suburb has been around for centuries and dragons don’t like to move unless they absolutely have to. As unbelievable as it might seem, there’s a very good chance that our Mr Lung is still there. If the building is still standing, anyway.’

  Everyone, Opulus included, suddenly appeared considerably brighter. I put my hands on my hips and grinned. ‘Then let’s go and find out.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  It was less than four miles from the cathedral to Moss Side where hopefully we would find our very own dragon. With the semi-destroyed roads, piles of rubble and massive potholes, it took us almost forty minutes by bike. The journey didn’t dint my renewed optimism, however.

  ‘We’re all going on a dragon hunt!’ I chanted for a good part of the journey. I was hoping for at least a little bit of fire-breathing and wing-flapping – otherwise what was the point of being a dragon?

  Unfortunately not everyone possessed my joie de vivre. Jodie, in particular, was growing more and more nervous the closer we got. ‘Is he going to be, you know, scaly? With big teeth?’

  ‘Very big teeth,’ I said. ‘All the better to eat us with.’

  Morgan rolled his eyes. ‘If he’s anything like Chen,’ he said, ‘he’ll look like an ordinary man. And at five centuries old, he won’t be particularly fast on his feet. There’s nothing to worry about.’

  ‘Unless,’ I added, ‘the magic in the air is affecting him in the same way that it’s been affecting Julie and he’s now got actual scales and actual sharp fangs.’

  ‘Thank you, Maddy.’ Morgan didn’t sound particularly grateful. ‘I doubt that very much though.’

  ‘And claws that will rip through a human’s flesh with barely a swipe,’ I continued. ‘And a penchant for chewing on the skulls of his victims.’

  He hissed through his teeth. ‘It will be fine.’

  Jodie didn’t appear comforted by his words. Clearly she trusted my judgment more than Morgan’s. My smile brightened even further.

  We halted outside the address the parish records had given us. The building certainly looked old enough. It was an imposing structure made of red brick, with four storeys stretching upwards into the night sky. I noted the satellite dish plonked on the side and wondered whether dragons enjoyed watching television. I found it hard to imagine.

  ‘How are we going to do this?’ Timmons asked nervously. ‘Do we sneak in or simply ring the doorbell? It is after three in the morning. Maybe we should wait until daylight.’

  I waved a hand dismissively. ‘Daylight schmaylight. The Madhatter works in all conditions.’

  ‘The Madhatter talks about herself in the third person and possesses all the charm of a faeces-covered gnat,’ he muttered.

  I raised an eyebrow. ‘Pardon?’

  Timmons winked at me and I smiled back. It was good to see that he was growing in confidence when he talked to me. It made a pleasant change from seeing him cower in fear.

  ‘This is what we’ll do,’ I said. I spoke with an air of command. I intended to lead my troops into battle with the best possible strategy. I was going to lead from the front like all the best generals did. ‘First of all, we’ll search the perimeter, seeking out all the entrances and exits. Jodie and Timmons will take up the rear on the off chance that our Lung fellow decides to make a run for it. It’s unlikely, but we want to cover every eventuality. Morgan will ring the doorbell while I sneak inside via a handy open window. That way I can circle round Lung while he goes to answer the door. We’re not letting him flap his dragon scales away into the night if I have anything to do with it.’

  ‘And what’s Opulus going to do?’ Jodie asked. ‘Because it looks to me as if he has his own plan.’

  I frowned at her before belatedly realising that the grieving Fey had crossed the street and was knocking loudly on the red front door. Gasbudlikins. What was the point of having a wonderfully strategic mind like mine if you were going to be completely ignored? I’d spent entire seconds coming up with that plan.

  We exchanged looks and then darted over to join Opulus. I didn’t have time to admonish him or send him to the brig before the door swung open to reveal a man.

  If anyone had asked me what I thought the human form of a dragon would look like, I would have described the man in front of us. He was wearing a red velvet smoking jacket with a cravat tucked neatly around his throat and tweed slippers on his feet. His hair was pure white, smoothly brushed back at the sides, and he boasted a frankly astonishing handlebar moustache that curled over his cheeks. Naturally he was smoking a pipe.

  He raised an eyebrow at us. ‘Faeries,’ he grunted. ‘About fucking time. Get inside before the neighbours see you. That witch across the street called the police last time someone knocked on my door at this time of night. If I want five blonde escorts to visit me wearing fishnet tights and stilettos, that’s my business. It’s nothing to do with anyone else.’

  My grin stretched from ear to ear. I loved him already. ‘I love fishnet tights,’ I purred.

  He looked me up and down. ‘You don’t have the legs for them,’ he said matter of factly.

  Arsebadger.

  Morgan stepped forward. ‘Mr Lung?’ he asked. ‘George Lung?’

  The man clicked his tongue. ‘It’s Liung,’ he said. ‘Honestly. Years ago one damned priest spells my name wrongly and for ever more I’m plagued with people like you who can’t pronounce a simple word properly.’ He glowered. ‘Now, get the hell inside.’ He turned on his heel and walked away. ‘And close the damned door after you!’ he shouted over his shoulder.

  We looked at each other and shrugged. Then we did as the man suggested and entered the dragon’s lair. Literally.

  I’d had a vague inkling of what Chen’s place was like before the fire from all the debris that was scattered around afterwards. Looking around Liung’s house, I suspected it was remarkably similar. There were objects everywhere; there wasn’t a surface
that wasn’t cluttered with stuff. Some things looked incredibly rare and expensive, such as the glittering jewelled egg on a side table that could only have been created by Fabergé himself. Other things, such as the neon-pink plastic truck that had probably come with a McDonald’s Happy Meal, were less aesthetically pleasing or costly.

  I reached out, brushing my fingers against a mink stole that was draped haphazardly across a china jug. From somewhere up ahead Liung barked, ‘Don’t touch anything!’

  I touched it anyway. When Morgan sent me a warning frown I shrugged, but to avoid further temptation I stuck my hands in my pockets.

  We passed several rooms that were filled to the brim with old newspapers. No wonder Chen’s place had gone up in flames if it was like this. One match and it would be kaboom. And no wonder Liung’s neighbours spied on him – they were probably terrified that he was going to set the whole street alight.

  ‘Isn’t it dangerous having all this around when you’re a fire-breathing dragon?’ I asked when we finally arrived in a small study. I arched an eyebrow. ‘If you’re a fire breathing dragon?’

  Liung settled himself in a cracked leather armchair and regarded us imperiously. The rest of us grabbed seats from the motley collection in the room. I ended up on a child’s rocking chair. My arse barely fit inside it but I wasn’t about to pass up the chance to swing myself up and down if I could help it.

  ‘I am a dragon but I don’t breathe fire,’ Liung snapped. Then a shadow crossed his face. ‘Well, not until recently, anyway.’

  I sat up straighter, hoping for a demonstration. Unfortunately, Morgan didn’t waste any time getting down to business. ‘We’re here because we need—’

  ‘You need Chen’s magical sphere to be destroyed,’ Liung interrupted. ‘Yes, yes. You should have come here the moment the sphere passed into your possession. I warned Chen that creating the damned thing in the first place would cause problems but he wouldn’t listen to me.’ He shook his head disdainfully. ‘He never did.’

  ‘You knew him?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘And you know about the sphere?’

  ‘Naturally.’

  I threw my up hands in frustration. ‘Then why didn’t you come to us?’

  ‘I was waiting for you to come to me.’ Liung didn’t seem in the slightest bit bothered about the trouble he’d caused by not getting in contact. He leaned forward conspiratorially. ‘Chen was quite the hoarder, you know.’

  I looked around Liung’s shelves; they had so much stuff crammed onto them that they were bending and warping. In this room the floor was relatively clear but there were seven or eight tables and a similar number of bureaux and bookshelves. Each piece of furniture was covered in stuff.

  I glanced at the old dragon, who seemed to be taking satisfaction in revealing this supposed nasty secret about his compatriot. Pot. Kettle.

  ‘Can you destroy the sphere?’ Timmons asked. His body was hunched even though his chair, some sort of straight-backed, elaborately carved Chippendale affair, afforded him much more space than I had.

  Liung nodded his head. ‘I can.’

  Morgan moved forward in his seat, a hard glint in his eyes. ‘More to the point, will you?’

  Liung didn’t answer immediately. He knitted his fingers under his chin and regarded us all with mild amusement. ‘Will I save this demesne from an impending apocalypse? Or will I let crazed faeries use the sphere and subject us all to the ensuing chaos and the end of the world, you mean?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Jodie said, finding her voice. ‘That’s exactly what we mean.’

  Liung turned his head and examined her. She held her ground, refusing to shrink back. ‘You are pretty,’ he said finally. ‘If you want to come and visit me wearing fishnet tights, you are very welcome to do so.’

  There was no accounting for taste.

  ‘If you put on fishnet tights first,’ Jodie shot back, ‘I’ll consider it.’

  Liung smirked. ‘That can be arranged.’

  From somewhere in the distance there was a rumble of sound, like a giant clearing his throat. We all tensed, even Liung. When the noise drifted away, I breathed out again.

  ‘This is all your doing,’ the dragon snapped, looking genuinely irritated for the first time and pointing a bony finger at us. ‘You faeries, waving your magic around without thinking of the consequences. You’ve always been the same. Why don’t you stay in your demesne where you belong? Goodness only knows what will happen next. I’m not abandoning my home just because you’ve fucked up. But if you make my favourite pizza delivery company shut up shop, I will seek you out and make you pay.’

  ‘We’re working on a solution,’ Morgan said smoothly.

  ‘Well, work harder! I’ve been around for five hundred years and the only time matters have been this bad was during the Black Plague. If you don’t sort out things soon, there will be nothing left of this city to save.’

  Liung was obviously getting worked up and his voice rose with every word until he began to choke and splutter. A hacking cough started up deep in his chest. He groaned as a puff of smoke and a single flame shot out from his mouth, almost singeing Opulus’s eyebrows.

  Rather than apologising, Liung glared again. ‘See what you made me do?’

  ‘That is seriously cool,’ I breathed.

  Opulus waved his hand in front of his face as if to ward off any lingering dragon germs. ‘Can we destroy the sphere ourselves?’

  Liung shook his head. ‘Only I am capable of that.’ He gave a nasty smile. ‘Unless you can find yourselves another dragon. With Chen gone, I think I’m the only one in this country, however, so good luck with that.’ He sniffed. ‘But bring me the sphere and I will dispose of it for good.’

  ‘Pinky promise?’ I asked.

  Liung folded his arms across his chest. ‘I give you my oath. I do not … pinky promise,’ he sneered. ‘Next time you need my help, don’t wait so long to contact me. Untold damage could have occurred because of your delays.’

  ‘Oi!’ Jodie said. ‘It’s not like we knew you existed! You could have called us!’

  ‘I was busy. And you must have known I was here. Everyone knows who I am.’

  ‘No-one knows who you are, mate,’ Timmons scoffed. ‘This world isn’t for the likes of you. This is a human demesne.’

  Liung’s face darkened. ‘It is my demesne.’

  ‘No-one knows you’re here.’

  ‘I am famous! I am George Liung of the Liung dynasty!’

  ‘This is almost like hearing my own personality echoing back at me,’ I said in an aside to Morgan. Then I addressed Liung. ‘I am Madrona Hatter of the Madhatter dynasty and I’ve never heard of you either!’

  Liung stopped puffing out his chest and stared at me. A moment later he let out a loud cackling laugh. ‘You? You’re Madrona?’ he laughed harder. ‘You’re the one who’s responsible for all this in the first place. It was your actions that trapped your kind here.’

  I shifted uncomfortably. ‘I don’t remember.’

  He snorted. ‘Sure you don’t.’

  ‘I’ve got amnesia,’ I informed him sniffily. ‘Anyway, what I did or did not do in the past is irrelevant. We are concentrating on the future.’

  The dragon’s lip curled. ‘If you have one.’

  ‘If I don’t have one,’ I shot back, ‘then neither do you.’

  ‘Mbongo spice and avocado seeds.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘You heard me. Mix three parts to one and then you’ll have the cure you need to remember everything.’ His eyes gleamed. ‘Of course, remembering might not be particularly pleasant.’

  It occurred to me that Liung was the only person I’d met who hadn’t been sceptical about my amnesia when I first mentioned it. My eyes scanned his face. He seemed smug and self-satisfied but I’d lay money on the fact that he was telling the truth about the memory concoction; he wanted me to remember because he wanted me to suffer from those memories.

  ‘I told you alr
eady,’ he said softly, ‘I’ve been around for five hundred years. I remember everything I ever did – every nasty word, every mistake, every terrible thing. Why do you think I’m still awake? You lot have only decades of problems to mull over in your beds when you can’t sleep. Imagine what it’s like for me.’

  ‘My heart bleeds,’ Timmons said. ‘Maybe the solution is not making mistakes or doing terrible things.’

  Liung smiled. ‘I hadn’t realised I was in the company of saints. That has not been my experience of your kind in the past.’ He glanced at Jodie. ‘Or of humans. Or vampires. Or werewolves.’ He sighed and briefly stroked his moustache. ‘Or dragons.’

  ‘I’m not afraid of my past,’ I said. ‘I’ll freely admit to my mistakes.’

  ‘Good for you,’ Liung returned. ‘Just remember you said that. You got the chance to wipe the slate clean and you started again. Very few people have that opportunity. It’s a blessing, not a curse.’

  I licked my lips. I was fairly certain I already knew the worst of what I’d done but I didn’t know the details. I didn’t remember the pain of abandoning Morgan for Rubus. I didn’t remember the guilt of realising I’d been the one to force the borders to Mag Mell closed. But I wasn’t a coward; I didn’t want to be afraid of who I’d been or who I’d become. Our memories made us what we were, warts and all. I’d stopped worrying about my amnesia days ago but now Liung made me want to resolve the issue once and for all.

  Morgan got to his feet, apparently concerned about the turn the conversation had taken. ‘We shall retrieve the sphere and bring it to you. You will destroy it.’

  Liung remained seated. ‘And you will sort out the infernal magic that’s causing all these problems.’

  ‘We will try.’

  He sniffed disdainfully. ‘I don’t like people who try. I like people who do.’ He cast us another disparaging glance. ‘Then again, I don’t like faeries either.’

  ‘We are annoying little arsebadgers, aren’t we?’ I agreed.

  ‘Yes,’ he said flatly. ‘You are. Bring me the sphere and I will take care of it. Stop your magic from destroying my city then our business will be concluded.’