The Scarlet Dragon Saga

by J. P. Rice

  They turned my mother around, exposing a red welt under her left eye. Had I clocked her? The horrified looks on the guests’ faces indicated that I had. I looked down at my fist, still clenched and red with white knuckles. When I noticed the Morrigan smirking in the back, I knew I had done it.

  As the swirling ocean of competing cackling calmed down, everyone was yelling at me. “Why’d you do that?” “What were you thinking?” they shouted, aiming their fingers at my face in anger.

  I took two steps forward and locked eyes with my mother. My entire life we’d been tap dancing delicately on top of a tinderbox. Each of us hoping the other wouldn’t start stomping.

  My mother glowered at me. But her lips remained sealed. She knew if she chastised me it would cause one hell of a scene, the likes of which she wasn’t ready for. Even after five hundred years, she couldn’t come clean to the other Gods.

  So she stood there, glaring, stewing and brooding. But she didn’t say a damn word. Not a peep. She couldn’t. I’d socked her with silence. I made eye contact with the Morrigan, who was grinning and nodding in sharp approval.

  A warm hand landed on my arm. I turned to my right, and the Dagda said, “I believe it is time for your exit. You may return only when you are ready to act civilized.”

  I took one last glance around the room to see if anyone would step up to defend me. Most of them avoided eye contact and the rest cast dirty looks upon me, judging me as only Gods and Goddesses could. I nodded with my lips pursed, turned on my heel and walked outside into the snow.

  I heard sounds of shuffling feet behind me and whirled around, ready to jack someone up. The Morrigan—my only real friend among the Gods—hustled over.

  “Nice punch,” she complimented.

  “Yeah, this should work out well,” I responded, shaking my head.

  The Morrigan said, “If only they knew the truth, they would understand like I do.”

  “It seems like everyone knows about my father, just not my mother. If I tell everyone, then I look even worse and Frigid would just deny it anyway. Whom are they going to believe? Me and you, or her?”

  She didn’t respond. She didn’t have to. She changed the subject. “I have some stuff going on that I need some help with. Need a good wing gal.”

  “I do have wings when I need them.” I worried that working with the Morrigan would clash with my pledge to be a better person. Whenever we got together, destruction usually followed.

  “Just think about it. We can have some fun, like we used to. And if we solve this mystery, I’ll try my best to get you Maeve’s spot.”

  “Let me think about it.” I knew Titania would love to hang out with the Morrigan and cause some trouble. Earning a spot in the pantheon would be a nice cherry on top.

  Maybe this was what I needed. The Gods had overlooked all my noble work involving Lugh’s Spear. I could wreak havoc with the Morrigan for the greater good. Then, the Goddess could talk me up to the rest of the Gods.

  I turned to the Morrigan, and said, “I’m in.”

  THANK YOU FOR READING!!!!

  This saga is connected to the Bloodline Awakened Supernatural Thriller Series featuring Mike Merlino. If you enjoyed this book, I strongly recommend picking up these books.

  LINK TO BLOODLINE AWAKENED SERIES

  Book 1: DRAGON HORN ASIN: B07DDM92JN

  Book 2: BLOOD GOBLET ASIN: B07G233H3G

  Book 3: CLIPPED WINGS ASIN: B07JM6Y27M

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  Black Birds

  The Scarlet Dragon Saga

  Book 2

  J.P. Rice

  Copyright 2018 by Jason Paul Rice

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. All names are made up and used fictionally. Any resemblance to real people is completely coincidental. Any resemblance to real events is only part of the author’s imagination.

  Cover Art by Ljiljana Romanovic

  Chapter 1

  Death. A necessary evil. The Morrigan would argue it was essential for life. She subscribed to the vacuum theory. The world—whichever one you inhabited—couldn’t add new life until an existing life created a vacuum for the child. The Goddess of Death had often told me, “To get, you have to give. To get life, you have to give death.”

  Life. Its ending was always sudden. Harsh. Abrupt. Even for a person expecting to die. The soul required a guide to the afterlife. A merchant of death to take it to the promised land. A soul left to wander could present a grave threat to everyone.

  Death cards. A card to claim a soul by destroying the host. A creation of the Sacred Circle, a collection of death merchants from various pantheons. They’d produced the cards to play poker and to pass a little time until eternity.

  Who knew something would go horribly wrong?

  I WAITED NEAR THE BAR in the restaurant where Thor worked as a dishwasher. The hostess at Slappy Jacks had sent for the kitchen manager about five minutes ago. I looked around the room at the patrons enjoying themselves and wondered if I would ever have a family of my own.

  Recent events had put me at odds with Tyr and Loki. Their plan to kill Odin had failed courtesy of me. Loki had probably unleashed a slew of assassins and bounty hunters to take care of me. I needed to bring Thor to my side and get him back to Asgard. That would force Loki to spend all his time worrying about whether Odin would reinstall Thor as the heir to the throne.

  Last time I’d seen Thor, he was drinking a 40 of malt liquor in the alley behind this restaurant. If I could convince Thor to quit Slappy Jacks and come work with me, that would be half the battle. Pittsburgh was a small place. Much smaller if I had to outrun a Norse hit squad.

  The aching pains caused by Tyr’s lethal attack were getting much better. I’d thought they would all go away after I had sipped Goibnius’s nectar, but the discomfort persisted. I could handle physical pain. Losing my golden half-heart locket hurt worse than the relentless aching. By any means necessary, I planned to get it back from Merlin and the Bounty Huntress.

  The stocky kitchen manager hustled across the dining room with a dirty apron draped over his shoulder. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

  He started speaking before he arrived, “Listen. I’m gonna tell yinz exactly what I told them other guys. If Todd owes you money, that’s on him. We ain’t paying off any of his debts. Got it?”

  I waved my open hands in front of me. “No. I just want to talk to him.”

  He pulled out his phone and began scrolling. “Well, he don’t work here no more.” He stopped and looked up at me. He shoved his phone back into the pocket of his checkered pants and pointed at me. “Wait, you’re the lady we saw back in the alley. He stopped showing up the day after we saw yinz out there.”

  I had suspected that. Thor really wanted to stay away from supernaturals. I asked, “Do you have a phone number or address?”

  The manager turned back toward the kitchen, and on the other side of the dining room, one of the cooks was shaking a ticket order, the long, narrow receipt slithering like a snake. The manager waved in recognition and turned back to me. Shrugging his shoulders and shaking his head, he spoke quickly, “Look lady, he was homeless and without a phone, but we gave him a shot. No paperwork. Last time we’ll make that mistake.”

  He started putting his apron back on, and I knew he had to get back to the job, but this gave me nothing to go on. “If I could just ask a few more questions.”

  He turned to walk away and spoke over his right shoulder, “Yinz can’t. Unless yinz wanna come back in the pit and bust some suds, cuz we’re getting our asses handed to us back here. Half priced lunches. What a great idea,” he said angrily and hustled toward the kitchen.

&
nbsp; What in all the worlds was going on here? Thor had turned into a deadbeat. Why would he owe people money? Even if he was at odds with Odin, he had access to unlimited funds. Perhaps he was trying to show his father that he didn’t need the money and could make it on his own.

  Thor had gotten angry and run away from Asgard before, but he had always gone to a supernatural stronghold. Now it seemed like he was trying to stay away from that group, which I could totally understand. It was the struggling through life, owing people money, working as a dishwasher and drinking 40s in an alley that had me worried. I’d never seen a God in that situation before.

  And why Pittsburgh? Thor knew it was a hotbed for the various pantheons. If I were trying to lie low, I’d want to get the hell out of this city.

  Someone screamed from across the dining room, “Help. I think he’s having a heart attack.” The woman pointed at the kitchen manager, who was on the ground next to her table.

  I moved in closer as a whispering crowd formed around the manager. Through the mass of people, I could see him lying on his back, clutching his chest. Panic seized control of the room and everyone went silent. Several quick-thinking customers pulled out their cell phones and called 911.

  “Is anyone a doctor?” I yelled, but as I looked around the room, no one acknowledged my call for help.

  I worked my way toward the kitchen manager. As I burrowed up to the front, I noticed a sharp image of the man separate from the body and stand up. Normally, I could see a soul leaving a body, but this was different. It was much more vibrant than the hazy image of a soul.

  The solid image turned, and as he walked away, he left a silver trail. The silver cord. He wasn’t dead yet. Because of my extrasensory supernatural vision, the concerned customers couldn’t see the image and remained totally focused on the physical body.

  The vision stopped for a second and then marched in place like a zombie. The silver cord that looked like a thick rope stretched from his chest on the physical body to his right hip on the astral body. The cord dragged the astral body back to the living one, attempting to reunite both bodies and bring the man back to life. But the stubborn astral body dug his heels into the burgundy carpet and charged ahead. Why was this man rushing fearlessly toward death?

  The astral body used a karate chop motion with his right arm and his flat hand smacked the taut silver cord. I tried to turn away, but it was too late. The resulting argent explosion blinded me. I got off lucky compared to the kitchen manager. Why had he cut his own cord? As I rubbed my eyes and they started to recover, I saw silver particles falling all over the restaurant and the customers were still surrounding the body.

  I’d never seen anything like that before and thought about the bible passage from Ecclesiastes. “Or ever the silver cord be loosed, or the golden bowl be broken, or the pitcher be broken at the fountain, or the wheel broken at the cistern. Then shall the dust return to the earth as it was: and the spirit shall return unto God who gave it.”

  He was already dead, his spirit irrevocably divided, and nothing could be done now. The body and soul could never be married again. They would now embark on separate journeys.

  Not to sound morbid, but I wondered which death merchant would claim the grainy image in front of me. The man’s soul looked around the restaurant, confused and groggy. The whispers modulated into full-throated pleas of help as the patrons continued trying to assist the dead man’s physical body.

  The soul wandered aimlessly in a circle, then headed straight for the kitchen. I altered my vision to fight through any illusion magic. The death merchants used invisibility spells when they claimed human souls. They could sneak onto a crime scene without being seen by anyone. Except for the soul they were claiming, of course.

  While everyone was still freaking out, I followed the staggering soul into the kitchen, which was empty because the kitchen manager’s coworkers had raced out to check on their leader. The man’s soul staggered toward the back door and passed through the solid wooden structure.

  I hustled across the kitchen and headed for the exit. I fastened the top button of my heavy winter jacket and opened the back door of the restaurant. A blistering howl of frozen wind slapped me across the face, invaded the winter cap on my head, dug under my scalp and caused me to shake before I got my second foot out the door. My dragon blood hated the cold.

  I stepped into the alley and spun in a circle. The wind whispered something from above and I inclined my head in reaction. I saw the man’s soul rising in the sky. He was alone. No death merchant in the area. That didn’t make sense. A soul didn’t just head off to the next world by him or herself.

  They needed a guide. Someone to lead them into the afterlife. I had a strong feeling this was what the Morrigan was talking about. The body could give me a clue to go on. But with the authorities showing up right now, I wouldn’t be able to get close enough for a proper inspection. The wind picked up and I shivered as I exited the alley and hustled to my Jeep.

  According to the calendar, winter had ended nearly a month ago. When I’d first returned to Pittsburgh, I thought it was just global warming causing the seasons to shift a bit. I came to realize that we had a real problem on our hands when other cities like Philadelphia and Baltimore shifted into spring.

  Pittsburgh was the only city on the East Coast dealing with this anomaly. I had a strong suspicion of who was behind it too. The demons of the Red Cavern. However, I had other pressing matters to deal with.

  Mike Merlino had called me and said he had something of vast importance to talk about. It just so happened that I wanted to chew him out for being all lovey dovey with my mother anyway, so I’d taken the meeting. The wizard had presented himself as an ally, but I had to keep my guard up with the crafty young man. You never knew in this biz.

  With my frozen fingers losing feeling rapidly, I took my keys out of my purse and squeezed them in my gloved right hand. I wanted to be ready to start the engine and turn on the heat immediately. This was a friendly reminder that I needed a better pair of gloves.

  I also had the Morrigan to worry about. She had told me there was a problem that she needed help with. That firsthand look at the kitchen manager’s soul flying away was disturbing and needed taken care of immediately. Confused souls wandering about aimlessly presented a huge potential problem.

  However, I had a strong feeling the Goddess of Death wanted to cause destruction and needed a wing-woman. Even though the mayhem could be fun, I didn’t want to go down that dark path again.

  Sure, I’d burned Tyr almost beyond recognition and killed Hera during my quest for the spear, but it was for the betterment of society. All too often, the Morrigan preferred senseless violence that I wanted to curb.

  I jumped up into my Jeep Wrangler with a ten-inch lift and shoved the keys into the ignition. My thumb flipped forward, and the engine turned over. Immediately, I adjusted the heat settings and rubbed my hands together. I pressed down on the gas intermittently to get the heat to kick on faster.

  The shifter-vampire war was still percolating. In my effort to resolve that situation, I’d failed miserably. In fact, I’d exacerbated the escalating battle. I didn’t imagine Jonathan and the vampires had any issues with me, but Octavius and the werewolves surely wanted me dead.

  I planned to lie low for a while. I hadn’t told anyone where I lived down south, so returning to Hilton Head Island was always an option. But Pittsburgh was my town. Curling up in front of a fire until all this blew over sounded good to me. I still had a few friends and my father, whom I could count on.

  My mind returned to my original inquiry. Where the hell was the Norse God of Thunder and how could I locate him? There was a Norse presence in Pittsburgh, but I wouldn’t know if any of them were loyal to Tyr or Loki. Odds were that Loki’s tentacles stretched throughout the city and beyond, choking out anyone of Norse allegiance who dared to defy his orders. So that option was off the table.

  That meant I needed to practice the utmost patience on this fro
nt. I shifted to drive and pulled out onto Negley Avenue.

  Chapter 2

  As I returned home from checking on my dragon eggs, I drove straight past my house because a werewolf in human form was peeking in my front window. He turned and stared at my vehicle, then went back to snooping when he realized I hadn’t slowed down.

  It was the young man with the stenciled beard who had been working as the bouncer at the Wolf House. I passed two houses, pulled off to the side of the road and turned off my Jeep. Quietly, I opened the door and got out.

  The wolf was still nosing around with his back turned to me. I removed my coat and set it on the hood of the Jeep. Crouching down, I spider walked across the street and hid behind my neighbor’s bush. Worried that he would run, I cast a spell to set a lock bubble around the wolf.

  The invisible enclosure’s design was obvious. Trapping the wolf inside. There was only one problem with invisible objects. Were they really there? I shifted the dimension of my vision and saw the outlined grid for the lock bubble. Werewolves were so fast that I had to check the spell, or he could easily outrun me. With the bubble in place, I walked leisurely toward my house.

  I hit the front lawn and he still hadn’t turned around. “Ahem,” I said, clearing my throat.

  The wolf spun around with a look of horror running through his eyes. He went to escape to the left and smashed into my magic. The confused wolf bounced off the magical enclosure, trying the other side and quickly becoming enraged. He raised his chin and howled at the tiny sliver of a crescent moon in the dark sky.

  His lunar savior ignored his pleas for help. The man scratched at the edges of the bubble, then bit at it. Fangs and claws developed as he continued to attack the enclosure. In an act of desperation, he started to shift. His coat and clothes tore away, splitting at the seams and falling off his rapidly expanding body.