Forged in Fire

by J. A. Pitts

  She mumbled something and rolled over, the blanket pulled to her chin.

  I grabbed my helmet and jacket, picked my keys from the rack, and slipped my phone into the jacket pocket. I’d make the call from outside so I wouldn’t bother her.

  The rain was coming down sideways in the blowing wind by the time I stepped out in the vestibule of our apartment. I hated the fact that I was going out in that rain, especially with what I’d just left, but Frederick Sawyer was one predator I was not willing to ignore.

  Zi Xiu answered the phone. Was she the only one left who spoke English? “I need to speak to Nidhogg,” I told her.

  “She is in the library,” she said. “Is this urgent?”

  “Yes,” I said. “She’d agree with me, I’m sure.”

  “I will have her return your call,” she said. “There is no phone in the library.”

  I hung up and waited. It only took two or three minutes for the phone to ring again, but it felt like forever.

  “Yes?” Nidhogg said into the phone when I answered. “You have an urgent matter?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said. The image of my mother hearing me say “fuck” was vivid in my mind. “I’m very sorry to disturb you, but something has come to my attention that I believe will be of interest to you.”

  There was a pause, then a warm chuckle. “How formal of you, Ms. Beauhall. Do we trade on formalities now?”

  She seemed to prefer my bluntness, my straightforwardness. And she wasn’t my mother, damn it. “No, sorry. Listen. Frederick Sawyer is in town. He went to my apartment.” I started to say old apartment, but I wasn’t sure she knew I was living with Katie. “He spoke with my mentor, my teacher, Julie Hendrickson.”

  “I know of Ms. Hendrickson,” she said. “She has done an excellent job with your tutelage so far.”

  “Thank you.” What the hell did she know about my life, exactly?

  “You are very welcome, dear. Now listen. Here are your orders.”

  Basically, with Qindra out of commission, I was in charge of things like this. I was to contact Frederick and see what his needs were. She warned me to be careful but advised it was in our best interest to keep a civil relationship with him, as he was a neighbor, if a scheming, power-hungry one.

  I was just putting on my helmet when Katie came rushing out the door of our apartment. The dress was barely on her, and she showed a lot more than most kindergarten teachers would in public, but no one was there to see her. I did enjoy looking at her breasts, though.

  Then I saw what she had in her hands. Gram. At least she was still in her sheath. Unlike Katie.

  “You forgot your sword,” she said, a bit discombobulated. “You are taking Gram, right, Sarah? He is a dragon.”

  It was tempting, but that would not be friendly, and Nidhogg said to keep it friendly. “I can’t. It would be a threat.”

  “Damn, right,” she barked. “I want you coming home to me.”

  I laughed. “He’s in Nidhogg’s territory. He has to adhere to a certain decorum.”

  Then it was her turn to laugh. “Like the decorum Jean-Paul showed? He was her kid and he didn’t care what she thought.”

  True enough, and the argument was compelling, but Nidhogg had warned me about Jean-Paul that night when we first spoke.

  “Dragon, Sarah. Remember? Teeth, fire, eating people.”

  “He’s not Jean-Paul,” I said gently, walking up the stairs. I took Gram from her, wrapped my other arm over her shoulders, and steered her back into the apartment. “I need to do this right, without weapons. Until I can rescue Qindra, this is my responsibility.”

  “This sucks ass,” she said, pouting.

  “Amen, sister.” I kissed her and directed her back toward the apartment. I opened the door, and gently pushed her inside.

  “Careful,” she said, grasping my hand. “I’ll wait up for you.”

  Thirty-nine

  I called the number Julie had given me, and the concierge at the Fairmont Hotel in Seattle told me I was expected. Great, another ride in the freaking rain.

  I was shivering my ass nearly off by the time I took the exit from I-5. Traffic was heavy, but I was on the Ducati. I took advantage of the size difference and wove between cars, edging out lights and generally raising the ire of every taxi in the metro area. I had to signal one guy with my middle finger, but he let me cut over.

  By the time I pulled onto the circular drive in front of the hotel, I was pissed off and frozen. I parked the bike on the far side, near the loading dock; then I tossed my helmet to the valet and told him I’d be right back. I didn’t give him my key, though. No way I wanted him on my Ducati.

  A lovely young woman in a purple dress and way too much eye makeup greeted me at the front desk. I guess I was not her typical clientele, especially with my jeans, T-shirt, and nontraditional hair cut. When I mentioned Mr. Sawyer, however, she fell into line.

  Soon enough I was watching her sashay in front of me, her hips swinging like a saloon door, all the way down a long corridor to a private office. I guess if you had enough money you could have a private office in a public hotel. She held the door open and waved me through. She had a great smile, even with all the makeup. I bet she was hell on wheels.

  The runes along my scalp began to tingle as soon as I moved across the threshold, pulling my attention from the girl. There was something here. Not an ambush, surely, but something new, possibilities yet unnamed.

  These were different from the runes on my leg. These were a gift from Odin. His touch had marked me, put the berserker in me. They helped me to cut through the clutter in times of danger and stress. Like now, for instance.

  Sawyer sat at a large table strewn with papers. An open briefcase sat on a side table, and a cell phone lay broken on the ground near the door.

  “Please bring us water,” Frederick Sawyer said, a slight tremor to his voice. The young woman nodded and let the door swing shut.

  He rose from the table, strode across the room, and held out his hand.

  I shook it, feeling the power of him, the fire just beneath the surface. He looked haggard, fussed. I’d never seen him so off his game.

  “Nidhogg sends her greetings,” I said, following the script. “And asks to what she owes this visit?”

  He sniffed, looking at me quizzically. “You came here from your lover’s bed?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact,” I said. He already knew it, bastard. Probably smelled her on me. Dragons were freaky. “Would you have preferred I waited to shower before answering your urgent request?”

  He waved his hand in the air, dismissing my comment. “You are a joy to know, Ms. Beauhall. I am glad we have the love of women in common. Gives us a place to build a relationship.”

  I bit my tongue and smiled. “Why are you here?”

  “I have business in the city,” he began, sitting on the long leather couch and gesturing to a leather chair. “One of my—operatives, let us say—was killed recently.”

  “Killed how?”

  Patience was not his strong suit, and he didn’t see me as an equal. But he respected me. I was surprised by that insight.

  “Murdered by most foul means,” he said. “Ritual murder. Not unlike several others in the region.”

  Of course my mind went straight to Justin. Why did Frederick Sawyer have an employee working in Nidhogg’s territory? And if she was one of those Justin had murdered, did that mean Frederick Sawyer was spying on me?

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” I said, mustering as much sympathy as I could.

  “My thanks.”

  He seemed to mean it, too. That’s what seemed wrong with him. He was flustered and somewhat confused—out of his element. And where was his businessman, Mr. Philips?

  “As it is,” he continued, leaning back and crossing one knee over the other, “I wanted to ensure that her eminence was aware of my little visit to the Emerald City. I do not want to cause an incident like we had in May.”

  Incident? Well,
from his point of view, sure. He lost his stake in Flight Test, which I ended up getting half of. Nidhogg kept the other half.

  For the rest of us, however, the events of May were a catastrophe. Except the killing Jean-Paul part. That was pretty righteous.

  We exchanged pleasantries for a bit: opera, which I knew nothing about; the art scene; philanthropy. Obviously we had nothing in common.

  “On another subject,” he continued. His hand shook as he held a letter out to me. “I received this just before you arrived.”

  I stepped over and took the embossed document. It was from the Dragon Liberation Front. Son of a bitch. Didn’t I wipe those bastards out several weeks ago?

  Dear Mr. Sawyer,

  Our last venture involving the mead has run into a snag, as you may have heard. For this, we offer our humblest apologies. It further pains us to bring you news most unsettling. We have opted to exercise other options in our quest for betterment. Be advised we have acquired something that belongs to you, something we believe to be of value.

  If this is the case, perhaps we can come to an arrangement. I’m sure the sum required to release this valuable commodity would pale in comparison to its worth. We do hope you agree. We will be in contact with you in the coming days to arrange for said commodity’s release. For one such as yourself, we are sure the monetary sacrifice will be a blip on a balance sheet.

  Yours in freedom,

  The Dragon Liberation Front

  I looked up at him and he grimaced.

  “I believe they have taken Mr. Philips,” he said, his voice quavering.

  My runes flared again, warning me of imminent danger. His fire was close to the surface. He was close to raging.

  The young woman appeared with a pitcher of ice water and two glasses. I took the tray from her and waved her out.

  “That is most unfortunate,” I said, pouring two glasses and taking one to him.

  He drained it in one, and I thought I saw steam escape his mouth. I refilled his glass before sitting.

  “We will be happy to help in returning your servant,” I said, thinking of how Qindra would react. “Nidhogg does not condone this type of activity within the boundaries of her kingdom.”

  This settled him a bit. The tension ebbed from his shoulders, and he sat back with a sigh. “My thanks to your mistress.” His eyes gleamed. “I saw your mother today, it would seem.”

  I stiffened, and he noticed immediately. Bastard. That caught me by surprise. I let a smile settle over my face and tried to breathe quietly. Lower the heart rate, quiet the battle instincts. He hadn’t touched her, and, hell, I had no idea what she was doing at my place in any case.

  “I tell you what,” I offered, leaning forward. “I’ll do what I can to find Mr. Philips. He seems like a nice guy. And you asked so nicely. But my mother is not on your agenda, today or ever. Are we clear?”

  “Are you sure?” he asked, his face quite amused. “There is something you may find intriguing about our meeting.”

  The rage was rising in me despite my best efforts. I took a long draw on the cold water and set the glass on the table beside me.

  “Are we done here?” I asked, standing.

  “As you wish,” he agreed, standing to match me. “I will be in touch if I hear anything further.”

  “Excellent,” I said. “I’ll find you here, I presume. For the next how many days?”

  He shrugged. “I have no idea. At this point, I would assume to be in town until Mr. Philips is returned to me.”

  Good enough. “I’ll be in touch.”

  His gaze followed me out of the room. There was something there, something I’d missed, but he shouldn’t have brought my mother into this. I needed to call Julie, to see what was going on. Was something wrong with Da? Was Megan okay? Crap, this sucked.

  Forty

  I made good time over to Bellevue. I didn’t call Katie or anything, just went straight to my old apartment. I needed to know just what was going on.

  Julie opened the door and pulled me in, looking behind me like she expected us to be attacked.

  “What happened?” she asked. “Katie called me after you left, said you had gone to meet Frederick.”

  “Where’s my mother?” I asked, pushing past her, looking from room to room.

  “She’s gone,” Julie said, spinning around to keep me in sight. “She left an hour ago, not long after Frederick was here.”

  I sat down on the couch, let my helmet roll on the floor, and covered my face with my gloved hands. “Christ, Julie. What was she doing here?”

  She sat beside me, put her hand on my knee, and waited until I looked up. “Everything’s fine. Your family is safe.” She hesitated a moment, looking at me. “You look just like her, you know.”

  I laughed. Holy shit. Of course I looked like her; she was my mother. I took a deep breath, peeled off my gloves, and shucked out of my jacket. Those I left on the couch, when I stood. “You have any coffee?” I asked. “I’m frozen.”

  She got up and went past me into the kitchen. She ground fresh coffee and set up the machine. I sat at the table, and she took out cups, saucers, cream, and sugar. “Want some cookies?” she asked. “Mrs. Sorenson made a batch for Mary the other night, and I brought some home.”

  They were fine cookies, but I really didn’t taste them. The coffee was hot and sweet, though. That’s what I needed.

  “I met with Sawyer,” I told her, looking into her face for clues. “Someone killed one of his people up here, and he thinks it was the necromancer.”

  “Interesting,” she said, stirring cream into her coffee. “Since the necromancer has been killing people somehow associated with you, does that mean he had someone watching you?”

  “That’s what I figured, but he didn’t come right out and admit that. Now that group I smashed up several weeks ago, the Dragon Liberation Front, have snatched his right-hand man, Mr. Philips.”

  She sipped her coffee, holding the cup in both hands. “Do you think the necromancer Justin and the Dragon Liberation Front are in league?”

  “Oh, yeah,” I said, waving my hand in the air. “The whole lot of them worked under Jean-Paul. I’m sure of it.”

  The color drained from her face, and she fell silent. I knew about her trauma, the pain and torture. But I didn’t know about the fear. I’d had some time to come to grips with all this, pieced things together with Katie and Skella. This was all news to Julie.

  “You okay, boss?”

  We sat in silence for a couple minutes while she gathered herself. “I can’t imagine more of them, darker, more vile than Jean-Paul.”

  I took her hand, just held it for a bit.

  “You gonna call Katie, tell her you’re okay?”

  “Damn it, yeah.” I got up, pulled out my cell, and called her. Julie sat with her coffee, pretending not to overhear my conversation.

  “She’s only a little pissed,” I said, sitting back down a few minutes later. “But she thought coming here was a smart move.”

  She nodded her head once and picked up a cookie from the plate. “She and I had quite the conversation. I hear you may be moving.”

  Talking to her calmed me, gave me back balance and a sense of normal. “Maybe in the summer. We’ll see.”

  “Going to spend that check Sawyer gave you, finally?”

  Honestly, I hadn’t thought about it in a while. I was flush with money. That’s what I needed for the smithy out at Black Briar. I could get a new forge and everything.

  “I’ll do something with it, I’m sure.”

  I sipped my coffee a bit, thinking. Too much had gone down in the last twenty-four hours, and I welcomed the calm. The second cup of coffee was even better than the first, and I could feel my fingers and toes again.

  “Okay, we’re all safe and sound. Dragons are where they need to be, and the world has not fallen into the sun.”

  Julie looked at me, waiting.

  “So, what the hell, Julie. Why was my mother here? Did som
eone die?”

  “No, nothing like that.” She toyed with her cup, trying to think of a way to tell me something hard; I knew from experience.

  “Just spill it,” I said, throwing my hands in the air. “Christ on a crutch.”

  “She apologized to me several times for that f-bomb you dropped earlier.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Great, whatever.”

  She took a deep breath and looked at me with that boss look. “She came about Megan.”

  Megan, damn. “Was she in trouble?”

  “Nothing specific, but yeah. Your mom thinks she’s heading for trouble like nothing you ever did. They’re out of their minds with worry, and she’s slipping away from them in ways you never could.”

  I shook my head. That made no sense. “I left. What more could I have done?”

  “They’re worried she may be getting into drugs. You never did that.”

  Drugs, crap. “No, not even in college. I had no desire to go through life wacked out on somebody’s poison.”

  “And you went to college.”

  “She’s not old enough. Fifteen,” I said. “They had me under an iron fist when I was fifteen. The only thing I had going for me was Tae Kwon Do.”

  Julie got up and walked to the coffee table. “She left these for you.”

  They were pictures of Megan. Dozens of them. School plays, yearbook photos, belt awards. “She’s a black belt?” I asked, surprised. “Took me to seventeen.”

  “They let her start sooner,” she said, shuffling through the pictures and showing me one of Megan, maybe ten, getting her first rank.

  I’d missed so much. Her whole training career to black belt. That was huge. Some of the pictures reminded me so much of me as a kid it hurt. But the rest, the ones where she got taller, prettier, coming into her own. Those gave me an ache I did not know was possible. God I missed her. Missed Ma, too.

  “Your father is thinking about moving,” Julie said. “Something happened this summer that has him freaked out.”