Secrets of the Sword 2 (Death Before Dragons Book 8)

by Lindsay Buroker

  “Girls will want pink and purple.”

  “Girls don’t buy dragon door knockers.”

  “We’ve sold a bunch to girls.”

  “Troll and orc girls. They’re not who’s going to be shopping on Etsy.”

  “Have you asked them?”

  “Val, they live in caves. UPS doesn’t deliver to caves.”

  “Are you sure? They delivered to my mother’s school bus at the campground we stayed at one year.”

  “I’m sure the campground had an address,” Dimitri said, his jaw set in a study of mulish obstinacy.

  I trusted Nin would talk to him and fix him of his delusions about who did and didn’t shop online for dragon door knockers.

  The door opened, and a uniformed police officer walked in.

  “Uh oh.” Dimitri lowered his iPad. “That’s the same guy as yesterday.”

  The officer, buzz-cut and in his thirties, gazed around the shop, looked at me for a moment, then spotted the door knockers lined up for the photo shoot and squinted at them. Interestingly, he didn’t have an iota of magical blood, not that I could sense. But he was wearing a bracelet that didn’t look regulation but did emit a faint magical signature. It might be designed to help him locate things—or buildings—camouflaged from mundane humans by magic.

  He frowned and strode toward the door knockers.

  I nudged Dimitri. “Maybe he’s a customer.”

  “I doubt it,” Dimitri said glumly.

  “If he is, ask if he has any daughters and how they feel about online shopping and pink dragons.”

  “You’re not funny.” Dimitri gazed wistfully toward the front door, like a man ready to go on the lam.

  I turned him toward the officer. “I’ll go over there to talk to him with you.”

  As we headed over, Dimitri still throwing longing glances toward the front door, my phone buzzed.

  Where are you? Willard texted.

  At the shop. Where are you?

  At your house. I went for a short run at Green Lake and decided to stop by.

  To use my shower? How many laps is a short run for you? It was just shy of three miles around the lake on the paved path.

  Four, and it’s cool out, so I didn’t sweat much.

  You ran twelve miles and didn’t sweat much? You’re a machine.

  Ha ha. I got that wedding footage I told you about. I was just going to drop it off, but… hang on, I’m getting sass.

  Sass? Nobody’s home.

  Wait, my senses told me that Zav was still at the house. Why hadn’t he flown over here? Maybe he had paused to trim the topiaries.

  Your dragon lover is here giving me sass.

  I’ll be right there.

  “…implicated in the murder of one Charlie Wu,” the officer was saying, and my ears perked up. Murder?

  Distracted by Willard, I hadn’t paid much attention when he started talking to Dimitri, but now, I hurried over to join them. The officer—a detective, his badge said—faltered and seemed startled by my approach. Maybe he’d heard of me. Or maybe he liked blondes and thought I was hot. With a big nose and big ears that the buzz-cut only enhanced, he was on the homely side. Female attention might fluster him.

  Just in case it helped, I put my hands on my hips, adjusting my jacket so more of my chest would be on display, and slid my ring finger into a pocket. “Hi, Detective. What’s going on here?”

  “Who are you?” He had a Midwestern accent and had to be a new transfer. Most of the Seattle PD knew me by sight. I’d even consulted for them on occasion.

  “Val Thorvald. I’m one of the owners here.”

  “The door knockers were her idea,” Dimitri said.

  I elbowed him. “I simply said to survey the customers and see what they wanted. You came up with the winged T-Rexes all by yourself.” I lowered my voice to whisper, “It’s not nice to throw your business partners under the bus.”

  “You have armor and a badass sword,” he whispered back. “You can survive being hit by a bus.”

  The detective held up a hand, appearing more annoyed than amused by our banter. What was new? He did steal a glance at my chest, so maybe he was attracted to me. I smiled warmly. Whatever helped keep Dimitri—and our shop—out of trouble.

  “I’m Detective Sutherland, here investigating a murder.”

  He pulled out a tablet similar to Dimitri’s, managed to fumble it, but recovered it before it fell to the floor. He swore, took a breath, and showed us a photo of the cement walkway up to someone’s house, the wood of the porch charred, the bushes to either side blackened and skeletal, and the door itself charred and warped by fire. The only thing in the photo that wasn’t damaged was a familiar green dragon knocker mounted below the peephole in the door.

  “The body was found underneath that thing, that thing that spat a stream of fire at me when I walked up to investigate.” He scowled at me and Dimitri, then pointed to the knockers lined up on the display case. “It’s exactly like those, and the homeowner, after we questioned her, said she bought it here.”

  Dimitri didn’t reply. He looked like a man accepting that a noose had been dropped around his neck and there was no way he could escape.

  “The knockers don’t spit out enough fire to have done all that.” I pointed to the destroyed bushes and porch in the photo. “Just a little gout about a foot long to scare off intruders who don’t know the password.”

  “Because Charlie Wu didn’t know the password, he is now dead,” Sutherland said.

  “I’m sure something else killed Charlie Wu. Do you have photos of his body?” I wanted to see where he’d croaked and in what position.

  “Not that we’ll disclose to suspects.”

  “Suspects.” Dimitri’s sarcastic New York voice had gone squeaky. “At the worst, we built a defective product. We didn’t murder anyone.”

  I elbowed him again and switched to telepathy to say, Don’t say anything to incriminate yourself. He might be recording this. We’ll get a lawyer if we need to.

  Dimitri only looked glummer at this promise of a lawyer.

  “Very defective,” Sutherland growled.

  “Do you have proof of that?” I asked. “Clearly, the knocker didn’t blast an inferno at you when you walked up. You’re here, and your eyebrows are even intact.”

  “Just because it doesn’t do it every time, doesn’t mean it didn’t do it once. And once was all it took.” Sutherland tapped handcuffs on his belt, as if he was ready to arrest us at any second.

  Well, he could try. I had a date with Zav to visit another world, and I wasn’t going to miss it.

  “If it did harm someone,” I said, “it had to have been modified to do so. We don’t sell anything capable of murder. Well, maybe the goblin-fuel coffee blend, but that’s only a risk if you have a heart problem and drink more than one cup.”

  “You’re not helping,” Dimitri muttered to me.

  “Who’s the homeowner?” I asked.

  If we knew that, we might have an idea about whether that person was the type to modify yard art for inimical purposes. Had one of the goblins purchased it, I wouldn’t have doubted that a door knocker might have been modified, but I wouldn’t classify any of the goblins as inimical. Nuisances, yes. Inimical, no. They also tended to live under park benches, not in suburban houses.

  Sutherland scowled at me, as if sharing this information was highly classified and would get him in trouble. It wasn’t as if I couldn’t check the social-media sites, where death-by-dragon-door-knocker stories would trend to the top immediately. Would stories of our knockers help sales or hurt them? All press was good press, right? Assuming I kept Dimitri from being arrested, his online shop might blow up like dragon fire in an arsenal.

  “Maggie Kohler,” Sutherland finally said.

  Not recognizing the name, I raised my eyebrows toward Dimitri. Did he keep a list of customers? Or just trade cash for knockers, no questions asked?

  She’s a part-fae baker with a shop here in Fr
emont, Dimitri replied silently. She comes in early and gets a coffee every morning.

  He didn’t have telepathic skills of his own, but mine had improved, and when I was paying close attention, I could hear his thoughts.

  Almost every morning, he added. She hasn’t been here the last few days.

  The fae weren’t known for their tinkering tendencies, but maybe her human side had driven her to modify the knocker. Because… because why? She wanted to murder someone in front of her own home? Maybe she’d only intended to scare the guy. Though the original knocker should have been sufficient for that.

  “Have you asked her what happened?” I asked aloud, aware of the detective frowning suspiciously at us as we communicated telepathically. If he had that bracelet, he had some knowledge of the magical community and might know that some beings could speak silently to each other.

  “Yes. That’s how I knew to come here.” Sutherland pointed at the floorboards. “She said her friend, Charlie Wu, was coming to visit, knocked using the ring attached to the belly, and then the dragon torched him. She didn’t see that, since she was inside, but she—and her neighbors—heard the ghastly scream. They’re all horrified.”

  “Nobody saw the death, you say? Then you can’t arrest Dimitri or anyone else. For all you know, an assassin with a blowtorch was hiding in the bushes when this Wu arrived.”

  “Nobody in the neighborhood saw anyone running around with a blowtorch.”

  “Assassins tend not to flamboyantly stroll down the middle of the street with their murder tools.”

  You do, Dimitri thought.

  My strolling isn’t flamboyant. You might want to visit the baker’s shop and talk to her, see if there’s anything shifty about her story.

  That will be hard to do from jail.

  He’s not going to arrest you.

  Are you sure? He keeps fondling his handcuffs.

  That’s because he’s single and lonely. I smiled to the officer. “We’ll be happy to cooperate with your investigation, of course, but we will have to get our lawyer involved if there truly are accusations made against Dimitri.”

  Not commenting on the lawyer threat, Sutherland pointed at a black door knocker. “I want to take one of these for the forensics lab to study.”

  I imagined people who usually dusted for fingerprints and ran DNA tests on strands of hair presented with one of the T-Rexes. What would they think when they took it apart? Since I’d helped assemble some of them, I knew they ran on magic, not propane or anything else flammable.

  “Sure.” I picked up one of the black ones. “They’re ninety-nine dollars, plus tax.”

  Sutherland had been lifting his hands to accept it, but he froze. “You’re going to charge me?”

  “For something worth a hundred dollars? Of course we’re charging you. Being a cop doesn’t give you the right to confiscate our inventory, not unless you’re considering it for safekeeping, evidence, or contraband. Besides, don’t tell me your people didn’t already take the one on Ms. Kohler’s door.” I beamed another smile as I shifted to thrust my chest toward him.

  Sutherland stood with his hands out for a long moment, hopefully too enamored by my beauty to debate whether the knocker fell into any of the categories that would give him the right to confiscate it. “I’ll be back,” he finally said.

  “You might want to take that trip to the bakery soon,” I told Dimitri as the detective walked out. “Sutherland may come back with someone who’s less enchanted by my boobs.”

  “You think they’re what kept me from being arrested?” Dimitri quirked a skeptical eyebrow.

  “Possibly what kept him from remembering that forfeiture is also a legitimate reason for the police to take stuff and that it might apply to a door knocker wanted for disassembly purposes.”

  “Even though I’m not an admirer myself, I’ll admit that the female anatomy has interesting powers.”

  A text came in. Your dragon is being difficult.

  “I’ll see you later, Dimitri. I have to go use my anatomy on a dragon.”

  “Will you bail me out of jail if I’m arrested by the time you get back from your trip?”

  “Yes, but don’t get arrested. Call a lawyer.”

  “Do you know one?” He waved toward the window, the detective visible getting in his car, which he’d parked in a loading zone across the street. “You implied you have someone.”

  “I was bluffing. I’ve asked for legal representation before, but lawyers find me difficult to work with.”

  “Huh.”

  “I’ll pretend not to notice your lack of surprise.” I clapped him on the back and headed home to see what Zav was doing to vex Willard—and if he was ready for our trip.

  10

  I found Zav in the living room with Willard, sitting and watching the TV while she stood beside him with the remote and… was that a pointer? She flicked her hand, and a red laser beam highlighted a table with elegant place settings, plates with dainty portions of an exotic salad, and a voluminous flower arrangement in the middle, all over a lacy white tablecloth that draped to the floor.

  “You’ll note the small portions brought out by caterers from the kitchen,” Willard said. “There’s no buffet laden with animal carcasses.”

  “That portion is minuscule. And it is of leaves.”

  “My niece is vegetarian. There were no meat products at her wedding.”

  Zav rose to his feet as if he’d been slapped on the cheek and challenged to a duel. “No meat! Why would you show me such a ridiculous festivity? Dragons would not be satisfied with anything like this.”

  “I’m just trying to impart that a wedding should be elegant.” Willard had noticed me come in, and she shot me an exasperated look. “You can have meat, but it should be prepared in a kitchen by a chef, not roasted over a spit. This is a wedding, not a reenactment of Neanderthal times.”

  I rubbed my face. Maybe employing Willard to help hadn’t been the best idea.

  “I’ve interviewed a priest,” she said, as Zav turned toward me, his fist on his hip, “and found someone who’s willing to do the ceremony outdoors and says he has officiated over quirky weddings before. I’m not sure he meant ogres, per se, but I’m hoping they’ll get distracted by something else and won’t show up. Do you have a wedding photographer booked yet?”

  “No. And I was thinking of a secular wedding, so maybe we don’t need a priest.”

  Now Willard put a fist on her hip. “Even if you’re not that religious, don’t you think you should play it safe? Have your ceremony blessed by a priest in case it helps in the eyes of God.” She looked at Zav. “This union could use God’s help.”

  “Dragons are not theists,” Zav informed her. “My mate, I have checked on the artifact and brought back news. I did not expect to be waylaid by your employer when I arrived.”

  “I’m here to help,” Willard said. “Val wants a respectable wedding.”

  “Is that a harpist?” I pointed to the TV.

  “Yes, she was quite lovely. I’ve found someone local who is also willing to play outdoors, as long as there’s a gazebo or other covered structure so her harp strings don’t get wet if it rains.”

  What happened to my request for a DJ? And a buffet?

  “I’ve spoken to the florist and selected four possible flower arrangements for you to select from—no, make that three. Bouquets overflowing with ranunculus are too cliché. Besides, you’re too strong a woman for such ruffly flowers.”

  What the hell was a ranunculus?

  “Who are you and what have you done with my boss?”

  Willard squinted at me. Why did I have a feeling she was planning the wedding she wanted instead of mine? I needed to try harder to get her hooked up with Dr. Walker. Maybe if she were busy with a new relationship, she would want to spend less time on my wedding plans. I hadn’t envisioned anything this elaborate when I’d asked her to help.

  “Someone who’s attending and doesn’t want your parents—or your mo
ther at least—to feel like she’s walked in on a freak show.”

  “Val’s father is coming,” Zav stated. “I told him about the wedding.”

  “Oh?” Willard asked. “That should be… interesting.”

  “Yeah. I haven’t told my mom yet.” I walked in and clasped Zav’s hand. “What did you learn about the artifact?”

  “According to our scientists’ records, that particular Zhapahai had been missing for a long time. Several generations ago, it was lent to a dwarven scientist, but he disappeared during a research trip, and the artifact was never returned. It was believed to be on Dun Kroth somewhere, but the dragon scientists had other Zhapahai, so nobody went searching for it.”

  “So… it was hanging out on a shelf in some dwarven laboratory until our thief found it?” I asked. “Is she stealing on the dwarven home world as well as on Earth?”

  “It sounds like we can only speculate for now,” Willard said. “Until you capture her and have a chat with her.”

  “Won’t that be fun?” I muttered, hoping she didn’t have access to any more magical boxes. “I’m ready to go when you are, Zav. Unless you want to discuss flowers further, Willard.”

  “Not at this time.” Willard looked at Zav. “Do you have any way to determine if the thief activated her portal and went back to Dun Kroth? Or if she’s still here on Earth?”

  “I do not,” Zav said.

  “If she’s after my sword, she’ll probably go wherever I go,” I said.

  “You think she can track it through dragon portals?” Willard asked.

  “I don’t know, but once I learn all the secrets of my sword on Dun Kroth, maybe it’ll lead me to her.” I didn’t mention that getting answers about Chopper’s complete capabilities was of more interest to me than catching the thief. If she was hunting me, she would find me sooner or later.

  “You’re asking a lot of a piece of metal,” Willard said.

  “A dragon blade is a superior weapon of great craftsmanship,” Zav said. “I do not see the point in plucking flowers from the ground for a festivity, but if this is a necessary human custom, perhaps the flower arrangements at the wedding should be bundled to look like Val’s sword. Would this not be more aesthetically pleasing than blobs on a table?”