Dragon Heat

by Allyson James

  "Exactly why you shouldn't go out alone. You can't kill him, but he can probably kill you, and I can't stand the thought of that. I at least have this." She wriggled her fingers. "Whatever this power is, it stopped him from hurting you."

  "I am a warrior dragon, Lisa. I know how to fight."

  She made an exasperated noise. "Neither of us is going to give in, are we?"

  He softened his touch, caressing her bare shoulders. "Lisa, please stay here. You cannot control your power, and I need you to be safe. Please."

  He moved threads of his dragon thoughts through hers, music soothing, willing her to understand how terrible the danger was. Here she was inside a fortress. Out in the city she was vulnerable, and he could not both look for answers and protect her at the same time.

  She sighed, relaxing under his touch. "All right," she said heavily. "I'll stay here and call a taxi for you. But you'd better come back soon and whole, or I'll—" She shook her finger under his nose, then let her hand drop, her eyes filling with tears. "I don't know what I'd do. I can't lose you, Caleb."

  His entire body warmed as he leaned down and briefly kissed her. "You won't lose me," he promised. "Not yet."

  Caleb left the apartment in the taxi that Lisa said would take him to Saba's home. She came down herself and handed the driver the map along with money, before kissing Caleb hard on the lips and retreating back into the house.

  Mrs. Bradley had come down with them. Caleb had asked her to keep Lisa company tonight while he went out, and Mrs. Bradley had chirped that she'd be happy to. She and Lisa could make cookies. Lisa had given him a severe look, knowing Caleb wanted Mrs. Bradley to keep Lisa inside, but she complied.

  Caleb let his lips linger on hers, savoring the taste and feel of her, before he climbed into the taxi and pulled the door shut.

  The ride downtown was interesting and swift, the driver keeping up a chatter about his life in San Francisco, his wife who liked to nag him, and his daughter's upcoming wedding, with asides to snarl at drivers who got in his way.

  "This is it," he said, pulling up to a narrow brick building with brick arches over the windows. "The lady told me to wait."

  Caleb didn't argue. He unfolded himself from the car, pulling on the long black coat Lisa had purchased for him that morning against the cool night air. At the doorway was a series of little lit-up buttons, including one that had WATANABE handwritten beside it. He pushed the button, wondering what would happen, and jumped when Saba's tinny voice came out of the air. "Yes?" she asked warily.

  "Saba?"

  The gurgling noise he heard meant she'd recognized his voice. "Caleb. What the hell do you want?"

  "To talk to you. Where are you?"

  A sharp buzzing sound made him jump. Saba sighed. "Come on inside. Mine's on the third floor."

  Caleb put his hand tentatively on the door and pushed. It clicked open, then swung heavily shut once he'd stepped inside, the lock falling into place.

  Unlike the pretty interior of Lisa's apartment house, this one had cracked floor tiles, a narrow hall, and a steep staircase leading upward without a lift. He climbed to the third floor and saw Saba peeking out at him from a half-opened door.

  "What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice tired.

  Caleb didn't feel the black dragon mark until he'd stepped inside the one-room apartment and she'd shut the door. It was subtle—the black dragon hadn't been heavy-handed with it, obviously wanting Saba to be his minion without anyone knowing about it. Caleb spun around to see Saba standing defiantly between him and the door, her slim arms folded, short black hair tousled.

  "He marked you," Caleb said.

  "Yes, after I turned you human. It wasn't exactly my fault."

  "No, very likely not."

  He curled his fingers in frustration, knowing he could not erase the black dragon's mark and put on one of his own. Saba was a wielder of his true name, and he could not mark her or harm her or do anything magical to her. In this room, the small slender witch in a cropped T-shirt held all the power.

  He took in the room, the mussed bed, the candles and other witchy accoutrements strewn about the desk, the computer that looked newer and more complex than Lisa's, and the salt on the carpet. He smelled, over the mark of the black dragon, the purple-tinted magic of a healing spell.

  "You cured him," he said.

  "Yes." Her expression hardened. "You hurt him."

  "Don't feel sorry for him."

  She uncrossed her arms and let her defiance increase. "He doesn't want to harm Lisa. He just wants to go home."

  "He'll harm her one way or another. Where is the dragon orb?"

  She looked surprised. "I haven't the foggiest idea."

  "Does Donna know where it is?"

  "I don't think so, and I don't think she'd tell me even if she did."

  She sounded disgruntled. Caleb picked up a black pillar candle that lay on its side on the desk and set it upright, saying nothing.

  Saba rubbed her arms like she was cold. "Malcolm thinks she's after power of her own and could care less whether the dragon orb destroys the world."

  "Really?" Caleb asked, fingers on the soothing wax of the candle.

  Saba shrugged. "It's what Malcolm thinks. Donna's very strong. I think she could do whatever she wanted with the orb. Malcolm just wants to use it to go home." The black dragon's mark swirled around her palpably as she repeated the stubborn words.

  "Where is the black dragon?" he asked her.

  "I couldn't tell you even if I knew." The smoky threads around her faded. "I have no idea where he lives."

  Caleb sensed her sadness and frustration. The black dragon had certainly ensnared her. "Where does Donna live, then?"

  She shifted uneasily. "Why do you want to know that?"

  "I want to ask her more about the orb. And find out what she knows about Lisa, and the black dragon. Because no one will tell me anything, and I want to know."

  Saba looked unhappy. "She's already made it clear she wants nothing more to do with me. She won't be thrilled if I lead you to her. She might even try to send you back to Dragonspace."

  Caleb touched the gold armband. "Your magic brought me here, not hers. You will not let her break your spell and send me back. You will tell her, Too bad, it's my spell."

  "Are you trying to cause dissent between witches? Dragons and witches hate each other. I can't take your side against another witch."

  "Not even to help Lisa? Lisa is not a witch—at least, I don't think so. She has so much power, the like of which I've never seen before. I want to protect her, but I don't know how to do it here."

  Saba studied him with dark eyes, then her face softened into understanding. "You're falling for her."

  "Lisa is my friend."

  "Doesn't hurt that she's pretty, and now you aren't a dragon looking through a door."

  Caleb hesitated as the musical thoughts of Lisa sang in his mind. Lisa smiling at him as he chose what show to watch on the television, Lisa pirouetting around the apartment, body lithe under her loose clothes, Lisa tucked next to him in the bed while he lay recovering from his wounds.

  He smiled, slow and warm. "No, it doesn't hurt that she's pretty."

  Saba shook her head, her aura radiating sympathy. "Now you know what humans go through."

  "My feelings, they are complicated," he agreed. "Which is why I need to protect her. Help me protect her, Saba."

  Saba was quiet a long time, thoughts chasing each other behind her eyes. She sighed. "I know where Donna lives. I go to coven meetings at her house, at least, until she threw me out. Grizelda's still her toady."

  "Can you show me?" Caleb asked. "I have a taxi waiting downstairs."

  Her brows went up. "You're efficient."

  "Lisa is making the driver babysit me." He grinned. "She doesn't trust me out on my own."

  "Can't imagine why," Saba muttered, then she reached for her coat and led him out the door.

  As they sped away in the taxi, the driver
following the orders Saba gave him, Caleb said, "Malcolm? What kind of name is Malcolm!"

  Saba glared at him. "It's a perfectly good name. There's nothing wrong with it."

  Caleb shaped the word a few more times, then made a face and gave up. Saba continued to glare, so much that he had to chuckle. She might not like the fact that she was in thrall to the black dragon, but she was defending him as hostilely as Mike the terrier would defend Mrs. Bradley.

  * * *

  Chapter Ten

  Grizelda's frustration built to a breaking point as she watched Donna, who was seated cross-legged on the floor of her basement, laying out her ritual tools.

  "But I want to learn," Grizelda wailed.

  Grizelda had come here tonight with questions about Caleb and Lisa and the dragon orb and had found Donna getting ready to begin a ritual. Grizelda didn't know which one, because it wasn't a full moon tonight and not a sabbat or an esbat. A witch didn't need a major celebration to do a ritual, but Grizelda believed that doing a precise ritual at a precise time was the way to power.

  She was not sure about the two men in the room, either. They wore dark blue velvet robes, nothing different from what she could buy from various New Age shops in town. The robes clung to them in sensuous waves, letting Grizelda know they were naked beneath. Their faces were beautiful and identical. Twins, but she'd never seen them before. Grizelda knew many people in the Wicca community, but these men were so striking—white-blond hair, chiseled features, and large black eyes—that she would have remembered them.

  Donna wore a robe, too, a white one, unadorned. Whether she was naked beneath, Grizelda could not tell, but she did not think so. Donna had taught the coven that performing rituals sky-clad was unnecessary.

  "Donna, you promised to teach me," Grizelda said, watching while Donna laid a black-handled knife and a cup on the altar. The knife looked very sharp, which was odd, because the ceremonial knife, the athame, was usually blunt, for ritual cutting only.

  Donna finally answered. "You are young and inexperienced, and frankly, rather stupid. You seek to know mysteries not meant for you, and you don't even know what you're ready for."

  "That's why I need a teacher," Grizelda argued. "And now that you've closed the coven to Saba, you'll need my help more than ever."

  Donna sent her a look of such contempt that Grizelda's heart squeezed with hurt. "I hardly need your help."

  Grizelda fell silent while Donna positioned a pentacle on the altar. She thought Donna put it the wrong way around, but she dared not open her mouth to tell Donna she'd made an error.

  "What is Lisa's magic?" Grizelda tried. "I've never seen anything like that. My butt still hurts from landing on it."

  "It's very powerful," Donna said. "Very rare in a human being. Lisa is dangerous. I intend to do something about her."

  Grizelda's unease flared at the matter-of-fact tone of Donna's voice. She'd thought Donna all wise and powerful when they'd met, had been so proud to be chosen to be one of Donna's coven and share in the power of the dragon's name. But Grizelda did sometimes wonder why Donna had chosen her and Saba. Donna was right, Grizelda's path through the Craft had so far been rocky, and she had to struggle to feel even the simplest energies from crystals and candles. Why had Donna chosen witches with so little experience to help her?

  "Why is she so dangerous? From Caleb's reports, she seems a normal person. Except with this power."

  Again the look of contempt. "Lisa has stronger magic than any you will ever encounter, and she has no idea how to control or use it. She has knowledge of the dragon orb, but it's buried deep." Donna's voice dropped to the reasonable tones that had persuaded Grizelda to follow her in the first place. "We need to show her how to use her powers, how to keep her from destroying things with it, herself most of all. And if she can help us find the dragon orb and keep it from Malcolm, so much the better."

  Grizelda relaxed slightly. What Donna said made sense—Lisa could hardly be allowed to go around throwing white light at people with Caleb standing behind her egging her on. And if the black dragon got his hands on Lisa and the orb, he could destroy the world. Whatever Donna was doing must be right.

  One of the men looked at Grizelda. "I'll teach you." His voice was sinuous, his smile even more so.

  Grizelda clenched her teeth against sudden revulsion. "I'd rather have Donna," she said nervously.

  "If you want to learn something," Donna snapped, "watch now. And be quiet."

  Grizelda folded her hands in her lap and shut her mouth, bile in the back of her throat. The man looked away, thank the Goddess, and turned his intense gaze to Donna.

  Donna lit the candles on her altar, having already closed her circle, and invoked the four quarters—north, south, east, west. The two men in blue stood on either side of Donna, one on the east, one on the west. The altar faced north.

  Donna began chanting. Grizelda expected a prayer to the Goddess and the horned god, but what came out of Donna's mouth was pure gibberish. Perhaps it was Latin or Greek, but Grizelda didn't think so. Nor was it an Asian language—growing up in San Francisco had attuned Grizelda to the languages of Japan, China, Korea, and Vietnam. This sounded like nonsense.

  The two men opened their robes and let the velvet slither to the floor. Grizelda had been right, they wore nothing beneath. Their penises were rampant and erect, and she saw, being unable to look away, that they'd shaved every bit of hair from their pubic area.

  Caleb had been naked when they'd burst into Lisa's apartment, but he'd worn his nudity easily—lie was a dragon, a beast with no need for clothes. He'd shown no embarrassment and no expectation that they'd be embarrassed to see him. He made a beautiful man, the golden dragon did, a body reflective of all the goodness of the god and Goddess.

  These men flaunted their bodies, made damn sure anyone looking at them was uncomfortable. The one at the east of the altar grasped his own scrotum and let his semen fall into the chalice. Grizelda gasped out loud, and the man smiled at her.

  Heart thumping, Grizelda glanced into the dark corners of the room, hoping the Goddess herself would manifest, perhaps in the form of Juno or Isis, to strike him down for profaning the altar. Then Donna turned her head, took the other man's erection in her mouth and began to milk him. The air in the room dimmed, taking on a blacker hue, smoke from the cauldron and the tapers weaving gray smoke into the thickening air.

  Grizelda scrambled to her feet, pushing her filmy draperies aside impatiently, shaken to the core. She understood now why Donna had put the pentacle upside down—this was dark magic, terrible magic, a perversion of all that was right in the Craft.

  "Donna, no," she cried. "Remember our most important rule—that anything we do will come back to us threefold. This will harm you, the universe will make sure of it."

  Donna licked the man's cock from base to tip then turned a blazing glare on Grizelda. "You stupid little cow. Do you really think you know the secrets of the universe because you went through an inane dedication ceremony? Do you think the Goddess and god care that you want to celebrate them? Do you think they even want you speaking their names?"

  Grizelda's heart pounded with fear and rage. Her dedication ceremony, done deep in the woods under a full moon, her body naked to the silver light, had been the happiest event of her life. She'd finally realized that she belonged, that there were kind and loving deities who embraced her, even if she'd been silly and awkward and uncertain all her life.

  "How dare you?" she said, her voice shaking. "You are not one of us. You are perverting the Craft."

  "I see," Donna said calmly. "And you know everything there is to know about the Craft, do you? Let me tell you, you know nothing. Power is for power. I have it, I want it, I will use it. Why do you think I let you in here tonight when I could have barred the door to you?"

  "To teach me this?" Grizelda said indignantly. "No, thank you."

  "For the ritual," Donna corrected her, her voice suddenly cold. "I need two of everything for it to w
ork. Once it's performed, my power will rise threefold. That is your rule of three, Grizelda."

  "I'll not help you." Grizelda began striding toward the basement stairs.

  One of the white-haired men stepped smoothly in front of her, his black eyes taking on a green glow. Grizelda halted, scared and angry, then tried to go around him. He blocked her way with ease, his fingers on her arm cold and strong as steel. She realized that his white hair was feathery, and a hint of scales traced the line between face and scalp. Glancing behind her, she saw thin black wings, leathery like a bat's, folded tight against the other's back.

  "They're not human," she breathed.

  "They're incubi," Donna said. "And what they do not know about pleasure is not worth learning. You'll enjoy it."

  "Demons. They're demons."

  The incubus smiled, showing his teeth, which where shining white and slightly pointed. He made a quick move, and Grizelda went down on her back, the breath rushing from her lungs. Her head struck the floor, sending waves of pain through her. Bright lights wavered before her eyes and then the incubus was on top of her. His strong hand wrapped her hair and pulled her head back so he could plunge his tongue into her mouth.

  Grizelda fought harder than she'd ever fought in her life. The incubus was strong, but finally her fist connected with his windpipe. As he staggered back, gasping, she broke away and ran, flinging herself up the stairs and out of the house in blind panic, her dress torn, her face covered with blood and tears.

  Caleb came upon Grizelda in an alley not far from where he left Saba and the taxi. Grizelda hunkered on the damp ground, curled into a ball, her flimsy black garments hardly protecting her from the cool rain that had begun to stream over the city.

  He went down on one knee and put his hand on her shoulder. When he touched her, Grizelda snapped her head around, opening her mouth for a terrified scream, which Caleb stopped by his hand over her mouth. She gave him a defeated look with wide eyes.