by WB McKay
The female dragon, who looked too frail to hold up her head, let out a hoarse roar and launched a fireball at the remaining guard. He went down, a gross hole smoldering in his chest.
I liked her.
"The exit is back there," I called, pointing to the opposite end of the large room. It was going to be a hell of a battle to get through the writhing mass of clansmen. "Stick together and we might make it!" Inspirational speeches were my strong suit. I snatched my sword belts off the table and looped them over my head. I really didn't want to beg FAB to pay for another set of enchantments.
We gathered into a loose circle and stepped off the stage, me leading and Owen just behind and to my right. I swung my sword with wild abandon, taking advantage of their hesitation to harm "The Morrigan". The more of them I cut down, however, the less they seemed inclined to give me a pass. Strange how that worked. It was like they didn't want to die by my hand.
Owen wasn't faring well. His weakness was catching up with him. He had a long gash across his ribs, and blood dripped from his nose. We wouldn't make it out of there if something didn't change.
While I watched, a clansman swooped in from Owen's blindside, a wicked looking axe poised to take off Owen's head. My sword didn't have the reach to stop him. That didn't mean I couldn't, because I had to. My free hand lit up, and a glowing white ball shot from my palm. It hit the barbarian square in the chest. Light flashed, and he collapsed mid swing like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
Several of the clansmen who had seen their comrade's death stopped swinging their weapons, mouths agape. They backed away while I continued to cut down their friends. "That is not of The Morrigan," said one of the shocked clansmen.
If I wasn't so busy stabbing folks, I would have rolled my eyes. "That's what I've been telling you!" I shouted in exasperation. "I'm not The Morrigan!"
The man who'd spoken raised his sword again, fresh anger sparking in his eyes.
I threw another death light and hit the speaker in the face. He dropped like a stone. That broke the spell of temporary calm, and the battle resumed with renewed fervor. Every time a new group of men saw my death light they shouted, "Not of The Morrigan!" It was incredibly irritating. Mostly because it kept bringing me back to the same thoughts over and over again. They knew. They saw the death light, and they knew. Does that mean... this isn't The Morrigan's magic?
Even throwing my death light left and right, cutting men down with every swing of Epic, we weren't going to make it out of that hall. The closer we got to the exit, the harder it was to keep the dragons, including Owen, at my back. I could throw my death light at every opponent I saw coming their way, but they were still lagging, weak, and under the effects of the necklaces around their necks. I had no idea how we would deal with that problem, assuming we made it out of the castle.
I swung my sword and nearly lost it when it lodged in the ribs of a man I'd just killed. The arm that held it felt like lead. I yanked it free and killed the next attacker with my death light. I took advantage of the small window between opponents to catch my breath and check on the rest of the group. The other two dragons were cut off from Owen and I, and as I watched, the male dragon went down, a sword running him through. I hadn't even learned his name. Watching him die hurt far more than I thought it would. These were my charges. I'd claimed them somewhere along the way. Mine.
I resolved that the woman wouldn't suffer the same fate unless I couldn't fight any more. I caught Owen's attention, and we turned back for her, cutting a deadly path through the clansmen.
Owen was fighting with Haiku, only occasionally throwing fire when it looked as if he would die. One of these times his fire wouldn't come for him, and he would fall, just like the man whose name I would likely never know. I renewed my efforts, determined not to let that happen. I switched Epic to my left hand and threw death lights with my right.
The magic was draining my energy as quickly as the physical struggle, but I was gaining control of it. I could even turn it mid air if I needed to. It was strange and beautiful. When controlled, its movements were swift and precise. The light danced with me through battle. There was a grace and subtlety to its quiet violence that contrasted starkly against the muscles my sword ripped apart. So many ways for my enemies to die.
We finally reached the other dragon. "I'm Sophie," I said between slashes of my sword.
"Greta," said the woman, her voice rusty with disuse. "It feels good to speak again." She punched a clansman in the throat, crumpling him. "It feels good to fight again."
I got the feeling she meant a lot more than the brawl we were currently fighting. How long had she been trapped in that dungeon? How long ago had she given up on fighting the enchantment in the necklace, fighting for her life?
I shuddered at the thought. I wouldn't let that happen to myself. If I couldn't fight my way out of this mess, I would die trying. There was no way I'd let them put me in another cage.
Owen took out another man with a fireball and sagged to one knee. Haiku hung limply at his side. My left arm felt like it was going to fall off, and Greta was panting so hard I thought she might collapse. It wouldn't be long now.
A large shadow passed over the room, drawing my eyes up to the high windows. It had grown dark outside. Two huge moons hung in the sky. I didn't relish the idea of traipsing through Faerie in the dark, but judging by my group's current condition, that wouldn't be an issue.
The call of a crow made my skin crawl. There was something ominous about its tone. The clansmen must have thought so, too, because they were all looking up when one of the windows shattered, raining glass over the crowd. A dark form blurred overhead. I gasped in awe before my brain made sense of what I'd seen. A crow the size of a small bus settled in the middle of the room. It twitched its head sideways, staring at our little group of battle weary prisoners for the space of three heartbeats. Then it opened its gigantic beak and snapped up one of the clansmen. The crow tilted its head back and shook the man down its throat. The rest of the men dropped to their knees.
The Morrigan had arrived.
She flicked her black gaze back to us and devoured another of her subjects. The message was clear: leave now. Not exactly a warm and fuzzy family reunion, but I'd settle for escaping with my life.
The clansmen stayed on their knees, mutely witnessing their decimation. I wanted nothing more than to shift and fly, but I knew Owen and Greta wouldn't make it far unless I freed them from the necklaces. I looked over the crowd, searching for Smarty or his corpse. If anyone would have the wand, it would be him.
I found him kneeling a dozen paces away from The Morrigan. I ran over, trailed by Owen and Greta. The smartass clansman's face was slack. He watched his men be devoured one by one, and he did so with nothing but awe. I hauled back my arm and backhanded him. His gaze slowly focused on me.
"I need the bag you found that necklace in, and the wand I left on the floor in the dungeon."
He stared at me so long I thought I would have to hit him again. Then he said, "The Morrigan is magnificent in her fury. She may devour us all, as is her right. We are hers." He turned back to the giant crow like it was the most riveting TV show he'd ever seen.
"Well, that was pointless," I grumbled. I searched his pockets and came up with the bag. No wand. It was probably still sitting on the floor at the top of the dungeon. Nope. I wasn't about to go back up there. "This will have to do."
I slipped Epic back into his sheath and took Owen's hand. Something cleared in his eyes and the corner of his mouth turned up.
"You still want to stay here and get your powers drained?" I asked.
"No," he said, straightforward and calm, like it was just any Tuesday.
"Good, because I didn't want to knock you out and carry you," I replied. "You look heavy." He gave me that lopsided grin, and I surprised myself by returning it.
Greta watched us quietly and took Owen's hand when it was offered. She looked confused for a moment and then sighed with relief. "I can
leave," she said, tears dripping down her cheeks. "I no longer feel drawn to this place."
"Perfect, because I don't want to watch my mother gulp down another one of these guys." Seriously, I thought I had mommy issues before... "Let's move!"
We headed for the door, hands linked together like a family out for a stroll around the neighborhood. I looked back at the fallen dragon's body as we weaved through the kneeling clansmen. I wished we could do more for him. If I had the wand, I would have at least taken the necklace from his neck. He deserved to be free of it, if only in death.
"Don't worry," said Greta, catching my gaze. "He is at peace. He had long ago accepted his fate."
"Did you know him?" I asked.
She shook her head. "We never left our cells until tonight. I didn't know he was here until they brought us to this room."
We turned into the hall and I guided us toward the exit I'd scoped out in my earlier wanderings. "Too bad. I was hoping you might have known his name."
"It was Ewan," said Owen. There was a weight to his words I didn't understand until I saw the sadness in his eyes. "He was my uncle."
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The trip back through Faerie to Siobhan's house was uneventful. Even the creatures that hunted through the night must have thought twice about attacking two dragons holding hands.
I pulled at the sparkling bits of treasure the clansmen had stitched in my dress as we walked, scattering the shiny pieces on the forest floor. Between the ugly dress itself, and the blood of the men I'd killed, I couldn't wait to get home and take a long, hot shower. I tried to be patient with the dragons' slow pace, and did my best at the small talk, especially since Owen didn't participate unless asked a direct question. Greta told us about her life before the necklace. From what I could put together, she'd been held captive there for around five years. Owen had said his uncle had been taken when he was a child, but I didn't know how old Owen was, so there was no telling if his uncle had been locked away there for ten years or half a century. I wanted to know, but I didn't want to bring anything up that would hurt him further.
It was just after dawn when we arrived back at Siobhan's house. She came to the door wearing a robe and a fierce scowl. I knew when she recognized us because her face lit up with the kindness I'd become familiar with.
"You're lucky I didn't blast you off the doorstep," she muttered, and waved us in.
It was awkward walking into her small house, the three of us holding hands, but we managed.
"I lost the wand," I said. I'd been thinking about what to say the whole way home. The direct approach was what I knew best. "I'll pay you back for it," I promised, though I had no idea how I would do that. I'd have to see if I still had a job first.
"I didn't figure you were holding hands for fun," she said, ducking into her bedroom. She came back out holding a wand identical to the other one, and my bundle of clothes. "I'll add its worth to the favor you already owe me."
"Very well," I said, cringing at the thought. I'd have rather paid in cash, poor as I was. She seemed nice enough, but there was no telling what a woman living in Faerie would want as a favor. "Now lean down, you two," she said to Owen and Greta.
They obliged, and a few seconds later, the necklaces were safely tucked away in the warded bag. We let go of each other's hands with a sigh. "Much better," I said.
The rest of the morning passed quickly. I changed my clothes first thing, more than ready to ditch the dress. Siobhan made us all pancakes and sausages and I told her the story of our adventure, not mentioning Owen's uncle. Siobhan sensed the tension around Owen and only mildly chastised him for burning a hole in her safe.
Once finished eating, Greta excused herself, wanting to return to her family as soon as possible. She gave me a grateful hug. I stiffened in surprise, but hastily put up my arms and patted her back in return.
When she pulled away, she looked me in the eyes and said: "Thank you."
It was even more startling than the hug. It must have shown on my face, because I heard Owen chuckling softly at my side. I ignored him, focused on Greta. "You can visit me at The Arbor any time," I said, surprised at my sincerity. She seemed like a nice woman, even if she was a dragon.
"I will visit you, if only to show my family the woman who rescued me."
I shelved that under "Things No One Will Ever Believe Were Said to Me" and patted Greta on the arm, sure I'd see her again someday.
Siobhan groused about how she wanted to go back to bed, giving Owen and me the excuse we needed to leave. I scooped up the small bag that contained the necklaces. Siobhan hadn't asked for them back, for which I was grateful. I wasn't sure I could deny her unless I told her it would cost her the favor I owed. She may have made them, but they weren't her property.
She shooed us out the door as soon as we stood. "Out you go, I need my beauty rest. Make sure you return that bag to me."
I didn't have time to respond before the door closed, leaving Owen and me alone. He still looked sullen, but the food had brought the color back to his cheeks.
We walked down the road toward the portal to Volarus. "You stole my necklace," I said, not wanting to directly ask why he'd done it.
"You came after me," he said, his grin sliding back into place, though it was nowhere near full intensity.
"You had a dangerous magical object. I had to retrieve it." I jangled the black bag containing the necklaces. "That's what I do."
We walked for a while, him not saying anything more to explain himself. "So you're really not going to tell me why you took that necklace and ran off?"
He shrugged.
That was all I was going to get. A freaking shrug. "You sure you don't want me to get it back out for you? The Morrigan might have left a couple clansmen alive. They'd probably be happy to throw you in a cell. If not, I'd do it."
His usual grin turned into a full-fledged smile. "You probably would, too," he said. "But no, I think I've had enough of feeling powerless for now."
I nodded. "I'm with you there. Cages are not a girl's best friend."
"What is?"
With a flourish, I spun Epic out of his sheath.
He laughed. It sounded good.
"So, um, I guess I'll bring Life of the Phantom Queen to Smoke and Mirrors for you once we get back," I said. I still wanted to read through it, but I had stolen the book. And he was so sullen. And, even if it would have been helpful to know more about The Morrigan, I didn't believe the book held the answers I was looking for anymore.
"You hang on to it for a while. Read through it. Just don't dog ear any pages." He shuddered.
I gasped, putting a hand to my chest. "Oh no! I wouldn't dream of committing such an atrocity." Again. I hoped he wouldn't notice the one I'd already folded. I loved books, but I didn't feel the need to treat them like holy objects. I liked when they looked well used.
He took my chin in his large hand and made me meet his gaze. He scowled down at me, dark eyes sparkling. "I mean it. Wash your hands before touching it too. I don't want any chocolate crumbs in the binding. No coffee rings on the pages. No—"
"Hey, do you have any charms to pull up highlighter marks?"
"You didn't."
With a smile and a shrug, I let it hang there. He wasn't sure; he kept leaning forward to get a read on my face. I revealed nothing.
"It's not wise to tease dragons, you know." His magic poked at me, a warmth crawling up my back that felt way too good. I shoved him to the side with my shoulder, harder than I intended. He stumbled off the path and fell to his knees. "Oh, shit." I covered my mouth with my hand. "I didn't mean to."
He looked up at me, his expression neutral. "Likely story."
"I didn't!"
He laughed. "I know, I'm just messing with you."
I rolled my eyes and put out my hands to help him up. He didn't take them until he was standing, and when our eyes met, the only thing that existed was him, and the world smelled of cinnamon. I didn't notice who leaned in first, and I d
idn't care. Fingers trailed through my hair, gently coaxing my head back. My hands, finding themselves flat on his chest, traveled down to his hips. My thumbs stroked circles in the dips above his jeans.
I exhaled, and the relief of it felt like I had forgotten to do that for a while. He pulled my body closer, my eyes closed, and then—
And then the world was Faerie once again. The faint taste of cinnamon and hot metal remained crisp on the back of my tongue, but Owen stood ten steps away.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I just—I do this, you know, I—"
"Right," I said, sucking in clean, Faerie air. I already missed the cinnamon's burn, but that was too embarrassing a thought to let myself entertain. "Habit, right?" He did this all the time. What was I thinking? Crushing on Owen? That's what this was. The unrequited crush. Wasn't I too old for this? And Owen? Owen? The dragon? Bad, hormones. Bad. I promised to take them out for a spin as soon as we got home—anything to avoid almost kissing Owen again. My body didn't believe me. I could feel it saying, "You never go anywhere or meet anyone," to which I promised I would figure it the hell out. Just. No. More. Owen. No more looking at Owen with the lusty eyes, no more almost kisses, no more dirty thoughts—oh fae, what was I admitting to myself? "Path," I said, and pointed back to where we'd been. Man, I was such a smooth talker. After I got to work better appeasing my hormones, I'd have to make the time to learn how to talk to other people like I was normal or something.
"Right," he said, his head turned so I couldn't see his face. His neck was red.
I guess there was enough embarrassment to go around.
The rest of the trip was filled with tension and uncomfortable silence. It was the middle of the night when we stepped through the cooler into the convenience store, and I was more than ready to hop on Bliss and get the hell out. Of course, that was when Owen decided to talk.
