“What do you mean counselor? Please tell me you’re talking about the rah-rah let’s-pick-a-magical-career guidance counselor...”
Madelaide stared at him blankly.
“It’s for the divorce, Daddy.”
Lucan sighed. “That’s what I thought.”
He took her by the shoulder, and they stopped at a female street vendor behind a metal cart. Lucan paid the woman two golden spira coins and bought two chocolate chip scones. He gave one to Madelaide.
“I’m not hungry,” she said.
“Well, I am all of a sudden.” Lucan snatched her scone and took a big bite. Madelaide laughed.
Silence grew between them.
“Listen, sweetie...” Lucan stopped. What was he going to say to his daughter who was in therapy, probably because of him?
“I don’t know how to say any of this, so just do me a favor and hear it, okay?”
“Okay.”
“I know I haven’t done the best job.”
“I don’t blame you, Daddy.”
“Right, because your mother is a b—erhm, anyway, I meant—”
Madelaide turned and watched the sea with a sad, wistful look in her eyes. He sensed her fear and he changed direction.
“I just want to say that I know I’ve been a crappy dad. But deep down, I know that you’re more like me. One day, you’ll understand why I am the way I am. You’re a Grimoire, too.”
He paused.
“You know that none of what happened between your mom and me was your fault.”
“I know.”
Then why the hell are you in counseling? He wanted to scream it, but she wouldn’t understand. No, that was an epic battle reserved for Nicole, her mother.
Lucan’s phone buzzed gently in his pocket.
Time to go. His car would be waiting for him by now.
“You know I love you.”
“I love you too, Daddy.”
He put his arm around her shoulder and they walked across the bridge toward an elevator that led down to the ground floor. Two of his bodyguards in black suits stood watch.
They passed a tall palm tree. A shadow lurked behind it, and the hair on the back of Lucan’s neck stood up. Then an explosion followed.
CRACK!
Lucan jumped. Something grazed his shoulder. His eyes drifted down to torn fabric—the shoulder of his suit was ripped.
Pink light sprung up around him and Madelaide—Lucan’s protection spell.
A man scrambled out of the shadows of the palm.
Bartholomew. Tony’s dad. That snotty-nosed kid that had guided him through the bog to Old Dark’s tomb. They had tried to blackmail Lucan, and he had made sure he put an end to that.
Bartholomew’s face was bruised, and he had a cut over one of his eyes. His lips were swollen. He wore a ripped t-shirt, denim jeans, and had a graying beard. He also had a gun.
Lucan stood in front of Madelaide with his hands up.
“What the—”
“You’re a son of a bitch!” Bartholomew cried.
People nearby screamed and started to scatter.
Bartholomew pointed his gun at Lucan. “Now you’ll get what you deserve, finally.”
“Hey, pal, why don’t you put the gun down and we can talk—”
BANG!
Lucan’s bodyguards fired at Bartholomew, but he had cast a protection spell on himself before approaching Lucan, and a pink aura around him deflected their bullets.
Bartholomew cursed and dove behind a planter box as the guards fired again.
An incessant ringing sound filled Lucan’s ears, and suddenly he could only hear his own heart beating. His head pulsed as if it were going to explode, and his vision narrowed.
He grabbed Madelaide and they ran down the bridge, away from the gunfire.
“Daddy, what’s happening?”
Madeline’s voice sounded as if it were underwater.
“Follow me and be quiet!”
A pink wall sprang up in front of them, and Lucan slid to a stop. Bartholomew must have cast it. If he touched that wall, there was no telling what would happen.
Instinctively, Lucan reached into his pocket and pulled out a grimoire.
Behind him, Bartholomew was aiming his gun at Lucan’s bodyguards, trading shots.
Lucan fingered the smooth grimoire and thought of a spell. A wheel of pink light flashed in front of him, and he selected a paralysis rune. A blue ball of energy flew forward and struck Bartholomew, but it did not paralyze him. A pink force field of light blinked around the man’s body as Bartholomew activated another protection spell.
Bartholomew side-stepped and tucked his gun in his belt. A wheel of runes floated in front of his head.
Lucan grabbed Madelaide and threw her into a bush.
WHISH!
A wave of fire slammed into him. His entire body seared under the flames and he screamed, patting himself down as the fire evaporated.
Lucan selected another rune, and a javelin of ice shot out of his magical wheel. It impaled Bartholomew’s arm, and he gave a blood-curdling scream.
BANG! BANG!
The guards seized an opening and fired at Bartholomew, but he took cover. He ripped the ice javelin out of his arm, screaming.
Nothing was going to stop the man.
WHAM!
Bartholomew sent a gust of wind at the guards, knocking them backward against the elevator doors.
The counter effect of the spell blew Bartholomew into a palm tree a few feet from Lucan. He landed with a hard crack against the cement. As he grunted and pulled himself to his feet, the man’s wild eyes went immediately to Madelaide.
Lucan’s heart raced and then almost stopped beating.
He was out of grimoires.
Bartholomew lunged for Madelaide, but Lucan tackled him. “Run, Madelaide!” he shouted. She dashed down the bridge, and he turned back to Bartholomew.
“You tried to silence us,” Bartholomew screamed. “You sent goons to hurt us!”
Lucan kneed the man in the groin and they rolled across the ground.
Bartholomew landed a punch. Lucan’s cheek stung. The man was too big. Lucan couldn’t fight him.
If he couldn’t spar with him, he could at least reach for his gun...
Bartholomew saw Lucan’s hand going for his waist, and he grabbed his gun and aimed it at his head.
“Let’s see how you win the election now.”
Lucan closed his eyes. Then, instead of a gunshot, he heard a gasp of surprise.
Lucan opened his eyes.
The gun lay on the ground next to him, and Bartholomew was suspended in the air above Lucan, his arms bound by vines.
Two reptilian eyes flashed in the concrete and blinked.
“That is enough,” the voice said.
The bridge rolled up into a hulking, four-legged shape, and the popcorn-textured concrete took on a new, dull gray color.
A massive gray dragon stood over Bartholomew, growling.
A dragon in Abstraction. Lucan had forgotten. The entire skyscraper complex and this dragon were one in the same. He must have been waiting for the best opportunity to strike.
Bartholomew yelled in fright.
The dragon turned in Lucan’s direction. “Mr. Grimoire, you’d best be leaving.” Then he turned back to Bartholomew and growled again.
Lucan nodded to the dragon. “Thanks, buddy.”
He ran to Madelaide, who was hiding behind a palm. Her face was full of tears.
“Sweetie, you all right?”
“What happened?” she asked, half crying. “Why did he try to kill you?”
He took her and hugged her tight. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”
“Mom was right! You always attract drama!”
He caressed her hair. “Just calm down, Madelaide…”
His bodyguards ran to him. Their eyes were wide with worry.
“Sir! Are you alright?”
“I’m fine, fellas.”
A s
harp pain in Lucan’s shoulder got his attention, and he reached to touch it. He hadn’t even noticed it in the struggle. He cursed as he felt warm wetness around his shoulder blade.
There was blood. A lot of it.
Want to read the rest? Visit www.michaellaronn.com/thelastdragonlord for links and more information.
About the Author
Science fiction and fantasy on the wild side!
Michael La Ronn is the author of many science fiction and fantasy novels including the The Last Dragon Lord, Android X, and Eaten series.
In 2012, a life-threatening illness made him realize that storytelling was his #1 passion. He’s devoted his life to writing ever since, making up whatever story makes him fall out of his chair laughing the hardest. Every day.
To get updates when he releases new work + other bonuses, sign up by copying/pasting this link into your browser: http://bit.ly/1r6kNTG
Author's Note
You’d think that after several years of writing afterwords they’d be easier to write.
They kind of are, but it’s still crazy to write them, especially right after you’ve finished the novel.
So...
Old Dark.
If you’ve read my other fiction, you already know that I’m all about strong characters that turn heads.
(In Dark’s case it might mean smashing a few heads.)
Teddy bears.
Vegetables.
Androids.
Necromancers.
Dragons just seemed like a natural next step.
I don’t take on a project until I know that it will be unique to me. For lack of a better way to say it, it has be a “Michael La Ronn” type story, with all the things my readers are used to, but still a totally different experience.
Quirky humor. Drama. Fun characters.
I’ve never written about dragons before. I’m no stranger to them, though, and they have always fascinated me, but I wanted to do something different.
But I’m not a guy to reinvent the wheel just because, so I didn’t want to do something that was too foreign to readers.
I wanted a dragon hero.
Not a substitute for a horse, or a shifter, or a gigantic beast to be slain, but a dragon hero that was unique in some way.
Around this time I was watching the newest season of House of Cards. I also had a hankering to read Richard III—one of my favorite Shakespeare plays. On one of my podcasts, we had just had an interesting conversation about Tolkien and his approach to writing fantasy.
And like always, I started mixing ideas—what if my dragon hero was one part Francis Underwood, one part Richard III and one part Smaug from Lord of the Rings?
What if the setting was contemporary/slightly futuristic instead of a traditional fantasy setting (a la Game of Thrones)?
What if there was a magic system that mirrored our own natural resources? What would that world be like? How would humans, elves, and dragons interact?
How would it be governed?
What if the story took place on the verge of a pivotal election? As I write this afterword, Donald Trump has just won his party’s nomination in the United States, so if you were wondering about some of the political rhetoric and the fact that Lucan Grimoire is a billionaire and an outsider—no need to speculate anymore. I’m guilty as charged. I’m a novelist; I love using this kind of stuff in my fiction.
But...
I asked myself, how could I write about politics without being preachy? Because let’s face it—I don’t believe in taking political sides or in using my novels to promote any agendas other than having fun.
I’m not one of those writers.
That’s how Old Dark was born.
It was an amalgam of ideas and inspirations that began with a simple series of ‘what if’ questions.
The result was a dragon anti-hero and a story that I hope still has you guessing.
On a personal note, I love anti-heroes, and until now I hadn’t found the right novel to try one.
Seemed like the right time.
Dark turned out to be one of the signature characters in my catalogue. He’s different than my other protagonists, and he was a ton of fun to write.
This story evolved in some really interesting ways, too. When I sat down to write it, I had no idea what I was going to do.
I guess you could say I wrote the story in the dark ... (pun fully intended.)
Now that I’ve written it, it’s fulfilling to reflect on the whole process.
My favorite part of being an author is the fact that I get to write these afterwords. I love reflecting on what I’ve written. I write a lot, so I don’t often get to bask in these moments.
So thanks for indulging me.
Thanks for reading.
And trust me when I say that this story is just beginning, and you’re in for a crazy, dramatic ride.
See you at the end of Book 2, which you should totally buy right now.
Just sayin’.
—Michael La Ronn
Des Moines, Iowa
May 18, 2016
Acknowledgments
Cover Design: Yocla Designs
Editing: Calee Allen (copyeditor), Donna Rich (proofreader), Puppets (retail sample proofreading)
Thank you to my writer friends John L. Monk, Matt Brotherton and Michael Anderle for listening to and giving guidance on my marketing strategies.
Also thank you to my patrons on Patreon who support my work, especially Flora Adams.
SPECIAL shout out to Tony Dyer and Jasmine White who had characters named after them in this series. They are loyal readers on my mailing list, and this is one of my many perks I like to give my readers. To learn more, sign up for my list at http://bit.ly/1r6kNTG
And last but not least, thank YOU for reading this book. I really appreciate it.
Also by Michael La Ronn
Android X Series
Android Paradox
Android Deception
Android Winter
Eaten Series
Season 1
Season 2
Season 3
Nutrizeen
Sword Bear Chronicles Series
Theo and the Festival of Shadows
Theo and the Solstice of Dreams
Decision Select Novels Series
How to Be Bad
Short Story Collections
Reconciled People
LEARN MORE:
www.michaellaronn.com/books
Old Dark (The Last Dragon Lord Book 1) Page 21
