Ennius held up a plastic card with a rainbow pentagram printed on it. It was the new grimoire.
“Don’t worry, I paid for it,” he said as the crowd laughed. “I don’t dislike Lucan that much.”
The cameras flashed wildly as he put his finger in the middle of the pentagram. The card lit up, suffusing his face with an astral glow.
The pentagram projected off the card and into a three-dimensional hologram in front of his face, an emanation of bright light. He touched one of the points on the pentagram, and a wheel of faces hovered over his fingers: his, Lucan’s, and several others.
“It’s actually not bad.”
Ennius dialed through the wheel with his finger until the image of his own face hovered in front of his. “Let’s see what this thing actually does, shall we?”
He tapped his face. Glowing words sprung up around it.
Governor Ennius Grimoire
Age: 64
Party: Magisical Party
Positions: Pro-magic, Anti-dragon (sometimes), Pro-business…
And then a biographical paragraph scrolled in front of the governor’s eyes. He read it silently, his face flushing redder as the words rolled by. His lips tightened, and he stopped the scroll abruptly.
He tapped on Lucan’s face and a similar profile appeared. The governor pursed his lips in thought, and then he swiped away the pentagram. It dissolved like ink in water, and the store, so full of light for a moment, grew dim again.
“This appears to be a simple informational grimoire, a wonderful service by a company that’s deeply committed to our political system—there’s no question about that. But don’t be fooled by the innocuous façade. You might think that The Grimoire Company is doing you a favor in providing side-by-side information on the candidates. However, my nephew, Lucan, thinks he can influence how you think. There’s a simple law that many of you who run businesses understand. It’s called the law of reciprocity. He gives you some harmless information today. But tomorrow, he will ask more of you. And after all, you bought a cheap grimoire that his company toiled to create … and then it becomes all too easy to act out of guilt. You see, Lucan is using this grimoire to steer you away from me. To steer you away from your true beliefs. We have a word for that in government—it’s called electioneering. That’s why tomorrow, I’ll be filing a lawsuit against The Grimoire Company for this egregious act of politics. Draw your own conclusions when the verdict drops.”
A few people booed. The governor seemed to take the insults personally, and he held up his hand to silence them.
“You know what pisses me off about all of this? What kind of man trash talks the patriarch of his own family and runs a smear campaign against him?”
He was going off script. Tension was building in the room.
“I raised Lucan. I was practically his father. When his dad died, I promised to help out. I put him up in my mansion. Loira and I treated him like one of our own. Just like the rest of our children. And when he told me he was going to drop out of college, I supported him because he was starting a business. Look how successful he’s become. He’s made more money than I’ll make in my lifetime. But the truth is he’d be nothing without me. But for my advice, there’d be no Grimoire Company. Just a bed of broken dreams, filled with hookers and drugs.”
The crowd booed again, fully enjoying the show.
“Because you all know that, right? About his substance abuse? I can’t tell you how many nights I scooped him off my porch.”
Ennius smirked, and then paused.
“Lucan keeps talking about how I’ve done nothing for the capital. How I’ve done nothing for the Half Eight. Before I came along, this place was a slum. A shanty town! The university was on the verge of shutting down. And when a group of business owners sold me on what this place could be, I invested my own money. Is Stella Gavlin here tonight?”
A wrinkled woman in the back of the room raised her hand, laughing joyfully.
“Stella—how are you, sweetie? This woman helped bring this neighborhood back. I’ll never forget when I met her the first time. She had plan after plan after plan—and those plans made this wonderful place a reality. Ladies and gentlemen, I have plans. You know what they are; you’ve lived them for the last twelve years. So when Lucan speaks next, why don’t you ask him what his plans are?”
Ennius crumpled the grimoire and tossed it into the trashcan.
A reporter raised her hand. “Mr. Governor, you’ve accused your nephew of being thin on magical policy. Can you elaborate?”
The governor smiled graciously.
“You all have a choice. It’s a simple choice. Vote for the man who made this city what it is, or vote for the little boy masquerading as a political candidate. I love my nephew, but this isn’t about family ties. It’s about making you all feel safe. It’s about saving our environment and figuring out a way to solve the magic crisis. I’ve already set up task forces. What has he done?”
Another reporter raised a hand. “Do you think he’s really a serious threat, being twenty points behind?”
“No. He’s not a threat. But I’m the head of my family, and I won’t be smeared by my ungrateful nephew.”
More reporters raised their hands with questions, and Miri quickly stepped forward. “I have a question, Mr. Governor.”
“Miss Charmwell, what a surprise.”
“You said that magical conservation is a priority. Do you think dismantling the Academy of History and Magical Sciences really supports your platform? Removing the only access to Magical Science education?”
The governor’s face went harsh. “Your current so-called education is full of errors and opinions, Miss Charmwell. And I intend to clean it up.”
One of the guards whispered to the governor.
“That’s all, everyone,” Ennius said, smiling and turning back to the crowd. “Have a good night!” He headed for the door; stealing an angry glance at Miri.
Miri didn’t look away.
I’ve got nothing to lose. Do your worst.
The governor climbed into a limo and it sped off.
The people in the store murmured.
Miri paid for her things, proud of herself. She had dealt him a blow. If he had stayed longer, she would have grilled him even more.
It was drizzling when she left, and after a few blocks the area grew empty again. The dark, gritty streets of the Half Eight stretched before her.
She heard a soft metal whine behind her. Headlights switched on. A black car inched toward her. As it got closer, it appeared to be a government car, with silver fins, tinted windows, and a sleek, elongated body flared out on the sides.
Was it the governor? Was he coming back to tell her what he really thought?
She suddenly regretted her outburst.
“Think, Miri, think,” she muttered as the car picked up speed.
It was coming for her.
XI
The car followed Miri for two blocks. She clutched her purse closer and tried to think of what to do.
The Half Eight wasn’t known for crime, but it was known for its grit. Humans and elves both lived here, and so did the children that their marriages begat. The result was a diverse cultural district that was misunderstood by many who lived outside it. But crime did happen, especially given that it was an election year, and a lot of residents in the district were unhappy about the magic shortage.
Miri used a sideview mirror of a nearby parked car to check if the car was still behind her.
It was.
Its headlights reflected off the greasy puddles on the street.
Dark red and gray clouds moved over the city and threatened a storm. The skyscrapers were rain-slicked, holding the last light of dusk mixed with moonlight. The view was breathtaking, but she scolded herself for being so romantic when her life was in danger. But then again, she wondered if it would be the last beautiful sunset she’d ever see.
She quickened her pace.
Aside from pissing th
e governor off, she didn’t have enemies, at least none that wanted to do her harm. She was pretty, and her reputation was well-known.
She didn’t have anyone she could call. Not this late. That was the downside to being a workaholic introvert. Her mother always said she’d die alone—Miri prayed it wasn’t going to happen tonight.
I have to make it seem like I’m talking to someone.
She pulled out her phone and pretended to dial. Then she placed it to her ear.
She spoke as convincingly as she could.
“Dean Rosehill, what an unexpected pleasure.”
She imagined the dragon speaking back.
They’re coming for you, my dear.
“Don’t be silly. Of course I have time.”
First they’re going to take your job.
“I am in the Half Eight,” she said loudly.
Still, the car tires crunched forward.
Next will be your dignity. You stand for nothing. You are irrelevant.
“This is relevant because I’ve been researching that very thing!”
They will rip you apart, just like they did your degree.
“Is there any chance I can get that back?”
No. We don’t award our prestigious degrees to little girls who cannot hold their tongues. Goodbye, Miss Charmwell. And rest in peace.
She couldn’t think of anything to say. The damned dragon had hung up on her, and she was only pretending to speak to him!
Meanwhile, the car had picked up speed.
She turned, and the headlights washed across her face.
Oh, no…
A man in a black cap was driving. He had a stone-faced expression, and his eyes followed her.
She reached into her purse and gripped a canister of magicked pepper spray. It was enhanced with a grimoire that created a cloud that hung over the head for hours, giving the authorities more time to hunt down the criminal. The grimoire would reveal a signature in the presence of the police that matched the one-of-a-kind pentagram on the bottle.
If he springs, don’t miss, Miri. Don’t miss.
The canister slid across her sweating palm. Her finger trembled on the trigger of the spray; she struggled to grip it.
The car pulled up alongside her.
One of the rear windows rolled down; it sounded like an airplane in a nosedive. A figure sat in the back, submerged in shadow.
Miri aimed the can of pepper spray at the car.
“Stop!” she cried.
The car screeched to a stop and the driver rolled down his window, aiming a gun at her.
“Drop your weapon,” the man said.
“Drop your weapon!” Miri said. “You don’t think I saw you following me for the last few blocks? I’ll scream and I won’t go lightly.”
“You’re not in any danger, Miss,” the driver said. He stepped out of the car and tucked the gun into his holster.
A voice from the shadows of the car spoke. “No, you’re not.”
Lucan Grimoire leaned out the window. “You’re not in any danger at all.”
XII
Miri kept the can of pepper spray pointed at Lucan.
“Put that thing away before you actually use it,” Lucan said. “That’s one of my products, by the way.”
He smelled like he had just gotten out of the shower, a eucalyptus and lavender kind of smell that she recognized from the soap section at Gavlin’s. His black hair looked slightly wet, and she couldn’t tell if it was from the shower or hair gel. His green eyes shone from behind his sunglasses, and his navy blue suit was slim-fitted, but his shirt was buttoned wrong, making his upper torso look like a skewed painting.
All that money and you can’t button your shirt.
“What do you want?” Miri asked.
Lucan unwrapped a piece of hard candy and tossed it in his mouth. “I should introduce myself—”
“I know who you are.”
She had met him three times, all at university dinners. He had supported the University General Fund, and The Grimoire Company often hired graduates from Magic Hope University.
Every time they met, Lucan never got her name right and he talked to her in his usual schmoozy voice that pretended she was important.
“Well, good then,” Lucan said. “Hey, listen, I need to talk to you.”
“I’m busy.”
“Aren’t we all. You gave the governor some real shit back there. It’s all over the radio.”
“I’m not getting involved in your campaign.”
“I was just complimenting you,” he said, opening the door. “We need to talk in private.”
Miri’s feet felt like they were mounted to the concrete. She was starting to sweat under her coat. She didn’t know what he wanted, but she wasn’t going anywhere.
Lucan, visibly annoyed at her lack of compliance, got out of the car. Miri backed away, but he came toward her slowly with his hands casually in his trouser pockets. He pulled the pockets out to show her he was unarmed. Then he dug them back in and walked toward her in what looked like a mix between a stagger and a strut.
“Listen, Mary—”
“It’s Miri.”
Lucan’s eyes widened in embarrassment. “Oops … Miri. Doctor—”
“Professor.”
“Sorry for the promotion. But word on the street is that you were a doctor, am I right?” He sucked on the hard candy and rolled it from cheek to cheek. “If so, that’s the bullshit of the century.”
“You have a filthy mouth for an elven man.”
“I’m a billionaire. I can say whatever the hell I want.”
“That doesn’t change your image.”
Lucan shrugged. “Let’s face it, Miriam—”
“Miri!”
“Yeah, okay. I am running a shit show of a campaign, but I’m not here about that. Not actually. Kind of. But not really.” He crossed his fingers.
“Then why are you here?”
“Because you’ve lived for this opportunity.”
“What opportunity?”
“I’ll tell you when you get in the car.”
The driver cleared his throat. “You’re in good hands, Miss. Pardon his manners.”
The man had soft eyes and appeared sensible despite his big frame.
So this was a consulting offer. She definitely needed the money.
“It’s not that,” Miri said. “I’ve been pitched a lot of offers and I want to make sure I’m not wasting my time.”
Lucan returned to the car. He opened the car door and leaned on it, tilting his head at her. “Mi-ri. I just dropped my daughter off at her mother’s and got chewed out for keeping her past my custody time. I’ve got a campaign-manager-turned-girlfriend who’s probably going to withhold sex from me for making her stand watch in a bog, and a college kid waiting with her who I swear is going to crawl into his mother’s womb at the first sight of danger. I’ve got a campaign staff who’s wondering where I am, and journalists who are going to start sniffing around if I miss another event. I’ve got a gentleman driver here who wants to see his kids before the end of the night, and two thousand more employees who make more in a month than you’ve made in your entire life. I’m rich, you’ve seen me on TV, you know who I am. Every dragon expert in the world would die to work with me, and lucky for you, you’re the first one I picked, Doctor. So get in the car, or you’re wasting my time.”
Miri processed his words. “This is about dragons?”
Lucan gestured to the car.
Whatever he meant, he must have been serious. Miri thought about what she had planned to do tonight: nothing. She would’ve spent the night with a glass of wine, watching the governor’s speech, probably yelling at the television the whole time. She hadn’t expected a consulting offer.
She tucked her pepper spray into her purse and got into the car. Lucan helped her in.
The interior smelled of fresh leather and the seats faced each other. Her seat creaked as she sat down. She glanced around for danger si
gns but found nothing out of the ordinary.
Lucan eased into his seat, shut the door and rolled up the windows, making it darker in the car than it was outside.
“Make a few laps around the block,” Lucan said.
Earl tipped his cap and began to drive.
Miri crossed her arms. “So, what did you want to talk to me about?”
“What do you know about dragons?”
“I could talk all night about them.”
“What do you know about the traditional ones? And I’m not talking about the ones in Abstraction.”
“So you want to go further back.”
“Oh yeah, way back. Like Fenroot.”
“Before or after?”
“Before.”
“How much before?”
Lucan shifted. He cracked the hard candy in his mouth and swallowed. Miri was amazed he didn’t break a tooth.
“I know you’d probably like the short version of this story, but it ain’t happenin’, sister.” He leaned forward, clasping his hands together, and winked at her over the top of his sunglasses. “This morning I had just finished a stump speech when a kid maneuvered his way past security, begging to speak with me. Happens all the time, you understand.”
He was right. In the media, Lucan was being billed as a poster child of the younger generation, a man with an environmental message that resonated with the city’s youth. Still, it made Miri shudder to listen to him talk about himself.
“Normally, I keep a few free grimoires in my pocket, and I always take photos with the fans. This kid didn’t want any of that. He said he had something to show me and that I was the only one he could trust. I said, ‘Kid, if I’m the only one you can trust, then you need therapy.’ But he was a bog kid. You know bog people, don’t you? You could tell them the funniest joke in the world and they’d just stare at you. The heavens blessed them with extra tight sphincters, if you know what I mean.”
“I don’t understand what this has to do with anything, Mr. Grimoire.”
“Anyway, Miri, so I told the kid I was too busy and that I couldn’t just quit campaigning to go play with him. And that’s when he whispered in my ear that he’d found a dragon tomb. I said, ‘Kid, people find dragon tombs all the time. What do I care?’ And he said, ‘This isn’t a regular tomb.’ And I said, ‘Oh, so it’s blinged out, eh?’ And that’s when he told me he thought it belonged to Old Dark.”
Old Dark (The Last Dragon Lord Book 1) Page 7
