Something flickered across Malcolm’s face so fast that Ceri was not sure she had seen it. Concern, annoyance, she was not sure what exactly. ‘A dragon skull?’ he said. ‘You’re quite sure?’
‘I sketched it. It certainly looked like one. The implications are fascinating. It seems like, even dead, these creatures are phenomenal generators of magical power.’ She paused, taking a sip of wine to wet her throat. ‘I can’t imagine what a live one would be like, or what we might learn from one.’
Malcolm appeared deep in thought. ‘I require an assurance that what I’m about to say does not leave this room,’ he said after a second of slightly uncomfortable silence. There was a confused rumble of affirmation from around him. He looked around each person, receiving nods as he went. ‘There are two dragons in Wales,’ he said. ‘One around mid-Wales, most often seen near a mountain named Cader Idris.’
‘I know it,’ Ceri said. ‘My parents took me there when I was a kid.’
Malcolm nodded. ‘The other has been seen in Anglesey. We haven’t managed to contact either of them, but we have sufficient evidence to suggest that they are real. I would be grateful if this information regarding the skull at Stonehenge could be kept quiet for a time. We’re unsure of their motives and I’m not sure how they would react to the burial site of one of their dead being a tourist site.’
‘It’s about thirty-thousand years old,’ Cheryl said. ‘Long gone.’
‘Information we have from the Chinese suggests that dragons are essentially immortal,’ Malcolm explained. ‘Our two could be relatives of this dead one. I’d like a chance to try reaching them again.’
‘We’ll need to talk to the people who were with us at the circle,’ Ceri said.
‘I’ll see to that,’ Malcolm said. ‘What are you going to need for the ley line idea?’
‘At the moment,’ Cheryl said, ‘it’s down to research. We know it can be done, but we need to work out how. Ceri and I will be starting on that next.’
‘If there’s anything the Ministry can do to help, contact my office.’ The Minister grinned, his attitude shifting to humour after the moment of worry. ‘We’ve already got a team planning the logistics of getting you to the Rift if it all goes as well as we hope. That region is not a safe place to be without armed support and we can’t lose our best thaumatology researchers.’
Ceri grimaced. Long distance travel was not her most comfortable activity. Once again she wondered what she had let herself in for.
Battersea, June 15th
The last traces of light were fading from the sky and the full moon had been up for forty-five minutes when Ceri slipped into the shadows of the little group of trees were she traditionally changed for her pack nights. She had to be a little more careful in the summer months; it was dark later and warmer in the evenings, so there were more humans around into the late evening. However, it was full moon and the park was known as werewolf territory. While people were getting the hang of the wolves being less scary than they had been prior to the Winter Solstice, centuries of prejudice took time to fix. That meant that there were less people about so stripping in a public park was a lot easier.
There was no sign of Michael as she pushed her clothes into a satchel, checked around for anyone watching, and then stuffed the satchel into a hole in the roots of one of the trees. Reaching to her throat, she touched her collar and concentrated. Magic swelled around her and, a second of mild discomfort later, she was breathing in the night air through a nose vastly more sensitive than her usual one. She could smell wolves on the breeze from the river, but none of them seemed to be Michael, which did not make her worried, just suspicious. She raised her muzzle, stretched up on long legs and pointed toes, and sniffed deeply. There was the hint of diesel oil from a ship on the Thames, the multiple scents of humans walking along the banks, and wolves further south, but none had the distinctive combination of markers she was looking for.
She looked around, scanning the bushes carefully. If he was not north of her, where the breeze was coming from, then he was almost certainly west of her. She was in the south east corner of the park and would likely have spotted him on the way in if he had been along her path. Her eyes still scanning ahead as she moved, she slipped forward, between two trees and toward the boating lake. She had managed all of two yards before she heard something overhead and started to look up…
Michael dropped into the space behind her, strong arms wrapping around her waist and lifting her bodily off her feet. She was about to struggle when he turned and tossed her back the way she had come to land in an indecorous heap in the little clearing. She could feel him pouncing at her. In the winter she would never have moved fast enough to dodge him, but they played this game at least once a week and she was getting better at it. At the last instant she pushed herself sideways, rolling on the grass, and he hit hard ground instead of soft she-wolf. Springing upward using all four limbs, Ceri aimed to get onto his back, but he was the more experienced at close combat. His body turned and his arm swept out before she could arrest her momentum and get a good grip on him. She twisted in the air, driven by his arm, and found herself landing on her back, the air rushing out of her lungs, and then he was on top of her, her wrists were pinned to the ground beside her shoulders, and she could feel that he was happy to see his mate.
Michael’s muzzle stroked at Ceri’s and his voice was a low growl; literally since werewolves were not equipped for making sounds a human would describe as intelligible. Ceri understood him. World has up too.
She growled back. Will remember.
You better, he rumbled and then looked back to the flattened grass where she had dodged him. Getting better fight. Soon good as me.
Ceri gave a scoffing bark. She would never be as good as him, because in truth she did not really need to be. A werewolf could take her out in a fight, but not by wrestling. Right now she could have killed him in three different ways he could not have stopped, but she really did not want to do that. Her hips shifted under his and she gave a soft, questioning whine. She could not turn over pinned like this, and werewolves were really not big on Missionary.
His hips ground his arousal against hers and she let out a whimper. He was teasing her! He was actually teasing her! Now that was new. And it just got worse. He lifted off her and bounced to his feet, holding out a clawed hand. Train now, mate later, his growl said.
Anita was teaching the younger wolves hand-to-hand combat on the island in the boating lake. Michael, having wound her up, delivered Ceri to the Guard Captain where she was made to wrestle big, strapping werewolves for an hour. Werewolves were tactile creatures, very tactile, and while a group of them together in relaxed surroundings might turn into an orgy, they equally thought nothing of close physical contact which humans would be embarrassed about. Ceri was learning to treat it all as something simply casual, but she was not quite there yet. An hour of being folded in half and pinned so she could learn how to get out of it and she was feeling very hot.
Werewolf jaw structure was incapable of smirking. It was a biological fact, no getting around it. There was no way Michael could be smirking. None. Which did not change the fact that Ceri could see Michael smirking from across the clearing. Her main concern as she walked toward him was trying to work out how to say, “You are in so much trouble,” in werewolf.
She did not get to. Meet Alpha, he barked and turned to run through the trees. Giving an exasperated growl, Ceri followed him through to the second clearing on the island. This one was screened by trees all the way around and had an oil drum in the middle which always seemed to have a wood fire burning in it.
Alexandra sat beside the fire, surrounded by the Elders of her pack and various younger ones, some in fur and others in human form. The Alpha of Battersea pack was making tea. The moonlight shone in her silver hair, but it did make the lines in her face seem more pronounced. Or perhaps it was something else. Ceri paused at the edge of the clearing and watched for a second. The power poured off the
old werewolf in waves and, for an instant Ceri thought her goddess had possessed her. It seemed unlikely; there was no way Luperca made tea. Ceri picked up the pace and settled down in front of the fire and Alexandra.
‘Turn human, dear,’ Alexandra requested. ‘Michael told me a little about your exploits up at that old pile of rocks, but I’d like to know more. Do you need a blanket?’
Ceri’s fingers touched her collar and suddenly she was seeing in colour. Michael, still in fur, settled in behind her and wrapped his arms around her naked waist. Ceri grinned. ‘No, I seem to have one thanks,’ she said.
Alexandra grinned indulgently and handed over a mug of tea. ‘So, tell me all about it.’
Ceri looked at her appraisingly. ‘I had dinner with the Minister for Supernatural Affairs on Monday night, and he told me I wasn’t allowed to talk about part of it. But you already know, don’t you?’
‘Black-furs sometimes remember things from back before they were born,’ Alexandra replied. ‘Some of my ancestors were involved in the building of that henge. And I suspect Luperca has been dropping hints. Back then there were almost no grey wolves and we were among the most powerful tribes. Of course, when the power in that place was discovered, we were brought into the council which erected the containment circle.’
‘So you know how it was done?’
Alexandra shook her head. ‘That is something I don’t know, my dear. It’s lost magic. Powerful enchantment like that… perhaps only the sorcerers of the First Age understood it. They had thousands of years to learn and great teachers to help them. Gods, demons… dragons.’
‘Dragons? Dragons taught some of the early magicians?’
‘No, they taught sorcerers. Only sorcerers.’ She settled onto the grass and took a drink of her own tea, closing her eyes for a second. ‘Isn’t tonight beautiful?’ the old werewolf said, looking up at the sky. There were barely any stars visible between the glare from reflected street lamps and the waves of bluish light in the upper atmosphere from the Northern Lights, but it was beautiful with the bright disk of the moon shining down. ‘It’s a shame you can’t see the stars so well though. I think I’ve spent too long in the city.’ Ceri looked at her, frowning, and she gave a quick smile back. ‘What did you think of Stonehenge? Now that you had a chance to look with your Sight, and your experience, and without a horde of demon-wolves to disturb you.’
‘It’s an incredible piece of engineering,’ Ceri said. ‘I mean, aside from the creation of a stable containment circle like that, there was the sheer physical side of it. Getting the stones there from the quarry, getting them upright, cutting the stones to fit. They used mortise and tenon joints in stone!’
Alexandra grinned impishly. ‘It was rather clever, from what I recall, though they did cheat a little.’
‘Cheat?’
‘Well, there were still a couple of giants alive in those days…’
‘Still,’ Ceri said, grinning back, ‘that’s like saying they had cranes. It’s no more cheating than if I were to use modern construction equipment. And also… you have memories of giants!? What were they like?’
Alexandra looked at her and Ceri realised what was coming a split second before it happened. ‘Big,’ Alexandra said with a straight face.
Part Two: Chinese Whispers
Kennington, London, June 16th, 2011
Ceri slipped out of bed with as much elegance as she could manage when she had to untangle herself from a werewolf and a half-succubus. Michael had asked if he could come home with her, which came out as “Me you territory,” and there was no way she was going to say no to that. It had meant going to sleep late; Lily never allowed a potential threesome to pass unfulfilled, and Ceri could not say no to that either. Feeling a little sticky in various places, Ceri went across the landing to the bathroom and turned on the shower.
The water felt good as it sleeted down onto her skin. She had not realised how sore her muscles were after a night of combat training and sex until the aches began to ease under the assault of hot water. Sighing, she leaned against the wall with her right hand holding the base of the showerhead and allowed the water to stream down her back.
A pair of hands landed on her hips, circling over her skin for a second before sliding upward across her ribs. Ceri smiled and let out a little giggle. Rough finger pads teased at the sides of her breasts and she shivered, her legs parting almost involuntarily. She felt something very male pressing against her behind and the big hands slipped around to cup her breasts. She felt just the tips of his claws scratching over her skin and the sensation made her gasp. He moved and she felt his member slide between her legs teasingly; his fur tickled her arse. She moaned and tilted her hips back. He pulled back, preparing to enter her, and he hesitated. She could feel his muscles tensing to thrust…
‘You know if you do it,’ Ceri said, ‘your daughter will open you from groin to throat and have me roast the pieces?’
The hands released her and the body backed off. When she turned around the werewolf had shifted into the form of an attractive young man with a mane of dark chestnut hair and a firm, trimly muscled body. He was still sporting an erection, but his expression was a wry grin. ‘How did you know it wasn’t Michael?’ Lily’s father asked.
‘Michael never showers in fur,’ Ceri replied. ‘He sheds, blocks the drain, and gets shouted at by Twill.’
‘Ah, yes, Mistress Twill can get exceptionally… sarcastic under circumstances like that.’
‘Yes,’ Ceri said. ‘Uh, Faran?’
‘Yes, Ceridwyn?’
‘I know you’re an incubus and all that, but I am naked in a shower and you’re my best friend’s father.’
‘Ah,’ Faran said. ‘Is this better?’ His changes were not like her own, or any of the were-creatures she had met. One moment he was one shape, the next he was…
‘No, you look like Lily, but I know you’re Faran.’ Faran pouted; he had Lily’s pout down pat. ‘Could Lily learn how to do that?’ Ceri asked. ‘Shape shift?’
‘Not the way I do,’ Faran replied in Lily’s voice. ‘A true succubus is… amorphous. We have no natural shape so we take any shape which those around us find attractive. Unfortunately, you are a particular challenge.’
Ceri grinned; it was almost a compliment. ‘Surely when you’re born you must have a natural form?’
‘We take on the form our parents find most attractive,’ Faran replied. ‘Well, generally one of our parents takes primary charge of us and we take that one’s favourite form… I’m not entirely sure that standing naked in a bathroom is necessarily the best place to discuss our child rearing activities.’
‘Okay,’ Ceri said. Turning, she picked up some shower gel and started to wash. ‘So Lily’s solid so she can’t change shape?’
The answer came as a groan followed by, ‘That’s basically it. I’m… going to see if she’s awake before I can’t control myself.’
Ceri looked around with a bright grin on her face, but the Lily clone was already gone. It was amusing, and certainly more a game than a serious attempt to get into her knickers. Faran had been coming around to High Towers on a slightly irregular basis since he had been freed of the control of his summoner and convinced Lily that he just wanted a chance to be the father he had failed to be during her teenage years. He was teaching her to be a better succubus, not because he wanted her to be one, but because the more she knew about her demon side, the better she would be able to control it. And in the meantime, he was teaching Ceri more about demons and they were playing their game.
As she got out of the shower and started to dry herself off, Ceri contemplated the thought that Faran was a horrible temptation. The main reason it was a game was that neither of them were willing to let Lily down. Faran could be the absolute epitome of Ceri’s desire and he was a sex addict; it came with the species. He was also hot and the chain around Ceri’s ankle made her lecherous. Without Lily to keep them straight, he would have cracked her by now, either because she would
have given in or he would have tried harder.
Michael was still in the bedroom when Ceri got back, which was an improvement. When he had first met Faran he had made excuses and left the house. Now he was willing to stay, though he preferred not to be in the same room. And now he grinned a little sheepishly when Ceri walked in and found him there alone. ‘It’s the smell,’ he said. ‘I’m trying to get used to it, but it’s like…’
‘Werewolves have thousands of years of considering demon-scent as dangerous,’ Ceri said. ‘Even Faran doesn’t expect you to get used to the idea that he might be genuinely trying to help Lily overnight. Hell, you should’ve seen how suspicious she was.’
He nodded. ‘The first time I met him, I could smell the fear on her. She’s lost almost all of it.’
‘Almost?’
‘Almost. I think though, that it’s not the same fear. Back then, she was scared when he would arrive, and then it would fade while he stayed and go when he left. That’s fear of him. No, of what he might do. Then I think she was afraid of him embarrassing her. Now she’s nervous when he arrives, and a bit eager. She’s more afraid when he leaves. I’m no psychologist, but that’s being afraid of herself.’
Ceri frowned. ‘She seems to get over it.’
‘If you want my opinion, he brings her demon side out and she’s afraid it might stay out.’
‘Yeah,’ Ceri replied, settling onto the bed beside her mate, ‘that sounds likely. Lily’s never really been afraid of much. Most things with a pulse she can stop in their tracks. There’s barely a human she can’t wrap around her little finger. But herself? She’s always been afraid of herself.’
‘You make a good couple,’ the werewolf replied.
‘I’m not…’ She pulled herself up. ‘Okay, sometimes, but it’s different. Lily’s afraid of what she is, I’m afraid of what I might become.’
‘You’re both good people, Ceri,’ Michael said to her, ‘and I’m not just saying that because we have fantastic sex on a regular basis.’
Thaumatology 04 - Dragon's Blood Page 7
