The Scarlet Dragon Saga

by J. P. Rice

  “Are you kidding?” I asked rhetorically, shaking my head. “She would have dragons to protect her. What little girl wouldn’t want that?”

  He picked up the poker again and slid the metal screen in front of the fire to the side. “Tell you what, why don’t we stick a pin in that for now until we find out who will be claiming custody of her. You certainly wouldn’t be able to go on your current mission.”

  “I know that. Problem is, no one else can handle this problem.”

  “So it seems you have given more thought about going after the Dagda’s Harp?” Owen asked as he jabbed the coals of the fire.

  “I have.” I paused for a moment. “But I don’t know. There’s just so many bad memories. And I have no surefire way of getting in. And from there, I have no plan on how to infiltrate the ranks and obtain the Harp.”

  “It is quite the undertaking. You know what they say about going into battle without a clear head.” Owen tapped his chin in thought. His eyes shifted around. He looked like he was trying to unravel a phrase before he made one of his famous verbal gaffes.

  Before he found the words, I said, “Exactly. I’ve often said that you can’t fight two opponents at the same time. At least, if one of them is your own brain. Or something like that. I’m so frazzled over it and obviously, I don’t want to leave my dragons behind.”

  “You know I’ll watch them with my life,” he reminded me, holding his hand over his heart.

  “I know, but I want to be here when they finally come out. I have a motherly attachment to them, and I would kick my own ass if I missed their births.”

  “I’ll call you the instant it happens,” he promised and pulled out his cell phone. “I have a motion detection device set up so that any movement inside the incubator will trigger a text message to me. I’ll relay the message to you as soon as I receive it.”

  My foot moved up and down, tapping the ground nervously with the front of my shoe. “That makes me not want to go to the Red Cavern even more. That and Alexis. I won’t even be taking my phone with me if I go.”

  “Children can complicate things, it should seem,” he stated and threw another log on the fire. “Even before they are born. Have you thought about where you are to raise them? Or names?”

  I grinned, and Owen said, “Oh, heavens. I’ve witnessed that look before. What are you cooking up?”

  I smirked. “I had a crazy thought that I would claim my father’s house.”

  “Did his current family vacate the property?” Owen asked, squinting his eyes.

  “Not exactly.” I lowered my voice. “I was planning to evict them.”

  “Evict them, how? Under what authority?” Owen stood up and loosened his gold tie, clearly uncomfortable with my decision. “Even if you wrest it by bloody force, the rest of their family will still hold legal standing.”

  “They have plenty of money from my father’s inheritance,” I explained. “I just want his castle. All I need is the chance to explain to them why they shouldn’t call the authorities. I can be pretty convincing.”

  Owen smirked. “Don’t I know about that. Intoxication. Thy name is Junipher.”

  “It would be the perfect place to raise dragons. What better way to honor my father, right?” I said energetically. Owen tossed his head around and pulled out his pipe. “Please don’t do that down here, around the babies.”

  “They are completely enclosed in there. But I’ll oblige.” He tucked his pipe back into the inside pocket of his suit jacket. “Look at you, being overprotective already.”

  I shrugged my shoulders and tried to play it off, but I had already formed a bond with these sapphire eggs. The family I never had.

  Owen rubbed his eyes. “Where were we? Where were we? Right-e-o. Perhaps you could offer to buy the house. If you are low on liquid assets, I could help you out.”

  “I’m not paying for something I deserve,” I said angrily, “Those skanks have only known my father for a little more than a decade. I saved his life at Machu Picchu. What did they ever do for him? Nothing. They deserve nothing, yet they are receiving everything on a silver platter. I’m only reclaiming what’s mine.”

  “I do not like the plan, but it seems your mind is set. I’ll offer this.” Owen sighed and thought for a moment. “If you obtain the property through dubious means, can you be entirely comfortable keeping a secret such as dragons? It opens the prospect that other people might try to take the property from you. And that would leave the dragons at risk.”

  “If I seize his property, it will be well guarded,” I assured him, moving closer to the fire. “The dragons will only be vulnerable when they are young. Until they can protect the property for me, I will have plenty of soldiers making sure nobody comes close to my babies.”

  He stood the poker up next to the shovel and maple wood bellows. He paced in front of the fireplace, the flames dancing behind him. “Yes, well, I wish you luck with that. It’s not that I disapprove of bending or breaking the law, but you aren’t doing it because you absolutely need to. You are doing it simply because you can. Remember the famous line from Jurassic Park? ‘They were too busy or enamored with the idea that they could do it, but they didn’t stop and think whether they really should.’ Or something along those lines.”

  His pacing was making me nervous. “I’m not opening a dinosaur park here. And I can’t believe you are taking their side on this.”

  Owen’s yellow eyes narrowed, giving him a fierce look.

  “This is not about sides,” he said sharply. “I know you despise them, but they haven’t done anything wrong or broken the law. Taking their house just rubs me the wrong way.”

  “Well, don’t worry. I won’t bring it up again. I’ve got to go see Thor now, but I’ll be waiting for that text,” I said and walked up to my dragons.

  I leaned down close to the plastic and looked over the thirteen eggs. My eyes were drawn to the egg in the top right corner. Inexplicably, I couldn’t look away. Slowly and deliberately, the egg began to beat like a heart. The shell expanded, and when it appeared as if it would pop, it contracted back to the original size.

  Owen’s phone buzzed from the text signal from the incubator.

  “What is going on?” He walked over to me.

  Speechless, I pointed to the back corner and watched the egg pump in and out. We had signs of life. Owen leaned down, and we saw the miracle of life in the form of a shimmering sapphire dragon egg.

  Owen said, “Oh, heavens. We’ve got action.”

  As much as I wanted a baby dragon to burst out that shell right this second, a much-needed surge of reassurance shot through me knowing there was life inside those eggs.

  I waited a half hour, just in case anything exciting happened, but the egg kept beating slowly. The movement wasn’t as pronounced as earlier, but it told me there was life inside that glimmering sapphire egg. It took a lot to pry myself away, but I needed to see Thor.

  Chapter 3

  The local watering hole. A staple for small towns across America. Grocery stores and gas stations had been closing because of the weather. So one would imagine, a little dive bar without heat would close down too. Wrong.

  The watering hole couldn’t be more important than a supermarket. Could it? For some people, the night at the watering hole was everything. Was it the drinks? Or the slurring patron telling the same drunken story over and over and over? Or was it just getting out of the house to avoid spending time with the family or spouse?

  Either way, it served a purpose. A strong purpose. It brought all the locals together where they could forget about any past issues they had with someone else. A few beers later, all was forgotten. It was like a form of magic, bringing the townsfolk together.

  So I wondered why a Prince from another world was working in a local watering hole. It didn’t make any sense whatsoever.

  I RACED ACROSS THE city to a little town called Blawnox. Thor worked in a dive bar called Dietches, and although I wasn’t sure he was working, I co
uldn’t wait any longer. Loki and Hel were on my ass and Thor could be my saving grace. But I had to track him down first.

  I opened the big wooden door and entered the smoky bar. It was only a few degrees warmer inside, so I kept my coat on and walked up to the bar. An older bartender stared at the basketball game on the TV with his back to me.

  I peeked around at the ample Steelers memorabilia hanging from the walls. I zeroed in on a white sign made of hard plastic that read, Here We Go. The sign was tinted brownish orange from years of cigarette smoke and matched the nasty panels on the ceiling.

  I coughed and sniffled, trying to get his attention, but he didn’t budge. He waited for the game to go to commercial and turned to me. He threw a coaster on the bar in front of me and said, “Can I get for yinz?”

  “I’m here to talk to Todd,” I said, leaning my forearms against the front of the bar.

  “You friends with him?” the bartender asked.

  I nodded. “Yeah.”

  He leaned down behind the bar and I heard bottles clanging. The bartender rose with a sawed-off double barrel shotgun in his hands. He pumped the hardwood fore end and pointed the twin barrels at my face.

  “Whoa. What the fook is going on?” I asked and put up my hands. Was I being robbed?

  “You tryin’ to steal from us too?” he yelled and used the recoil pad to push up his glasses.

  “I don’t know what’s going on. I haven’t seen Todd in almost a year and heard he was working here,” I explained. Of all the supernatural brawls I’d been in with Gods and powerful beasts, I had a hard time believing some yinzer bartender would be the one to take me out.

  The bartender lowered the gun. He shook his head and his tinted glasses slid down his nose. He pushed the spectacles back up with his thumb. “You know where he’s at?”

  “No. That’s why I’m here to see him,” I said with my open hands next to my face.

  The bartender’s face turned red and a blazing anger ran through his eyes. “Son of a bitch took off last week. Cleaned out the register ‘fore he left. We got it on security footage. Yinz see him, tell him he better pay back the two-hundred and fifty bucks he owes us,” he said, getting increasingly agitated.

  What the fook was Thor doing? Was he even worth trying to save?

  “I’ll tell you what,” I said, “I can pay you what he owes if you can give me the address he left. He had to fill out paperwork, right?”

  He leaned down again and stood back up without the weapon. I lowered my hands and exhaled.

  “He filled out an application. But he was being paid under the table. You give us the two-fifty and I’ll give you his application,” the bartender said and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Deal,” I agreed and dug into my purse. I opened my wallet and paid off the bartender. He stuffed the bills into the register and went downstairs.

  I waited in the frosty bar for Thor’s application, so I could find out where he was living. How had the God of Thunder turned into a complete degenerate? It didn’t make any sense and destroyed my plan to have him reclaim his birthright as heir to the throne of Asgard.

  The bartender came back up and handed me the piece of paper. He said, “Thanks for paying that deadbeat’s tab. Now you can tell him to never come back round here.”

  “I’ll do that,” I said and perused the application. I zeroed in on the name and address.

  Shitface Odin

  123 Loki Sucks Lane

  Asshole, Pennsylvania 12345

  It appeared Thor hadn’t lost his sense of humor, but a lot of good it did me. Just for shits and giggles, I looked at the phone number.

  123-456-7890

  Of course. I was glad to see this bar handled hiring seriously. The last time I was here, a different bartender had told me they were paying Thor in drinks. Before I got mad at the bar’s lax hiring policies, I stormed out without the application.

  I had some very important people to check on.

  Chapter 4

  Nobody answered at the Not Normal Agency again, increasing my unease about my workers. I tried Lauren’s cell phone. I hated calling people at home, but I wanted to make sure she was safe. I hoped that Lauren and Randall had stopped showing up for work because of the weather.

  However, I hadn’t been able to get ahold of Jonathan to see if he knew anything about it. One of his vampires oversaw the day to day business aspect of the Agency. Lauren’s phone went straight to voicemail. Dammit.

  I dialed up Randall and prayed that he would answer his phone and put my mind at ease. His went straight to voicemail too, sending my heartrate through the roof. With more Ice Heart spottings occurring around the city, I felt obligated to go down to the office and check it out.

  Because of my modified Jeep with chains on the tires and the lack of traffic, I raced across the city and pulled up in front of the building. Lauren and Randall’s cars were outside with a few inches of snow on top. Fook. Panic-stricken blood raced through my body as I jumped out and ran up to the entrance.

  I tried to open the door to the Not Normal Agency but it was stuck. As I looked around the frame, I saw that the door had been sealed with ice. This had all the makings of an Ice Heart attack, but I didn’t want to be presumptuous.

  I took off my glove and called fire to my fingers. When my hands reached a glowing orange, I traced around the door, melting the ice. The burning sun reflected off the ice and snow and blurred my vision as I tried to keep my hand steady.

  A few minutes later, I twisted the knob, pushed against the door and heard the ice cracking. Using my shoulder, I rammed into the door, finally busting it open. A foul gamey funk rushed into my nostrils as I entered the office. Never a good sign. Despite the bitter chill, I left the door open to counter the stink.

  The inside of the office was a tundra with some of the equipment covered in ice. I didn’t see Randall or Lauren anywhere until I noticed a shoe poking out from behind Lauren’s desk. I darted over and rounded the corner of the desk. Both of my employees were dead on the floor.

  Feeling numb, I spun in a circle. This was the work of Ice Heart. I’d finally found out his entire story.

  Frank Killibrew. A nasty human being if there ever was one. He’d made his money as a slumlord for a bunch of rundown apartment buildings. He’d ripped off the poor every chance he’d gotten. To make matters worse, he would flaunt his riches in front of the poor. A real-life Scrooge.

  He took pleasure in watching people starve during the Great Depression, knowing he could save them if he’d just spared a few pennies here and there. Instead, he became so monstrous and inhuman that his heart froze, giving him instant immortality.

  The frost had spread from his heart to the rest of his body, morphing into a glacial tower of power with magical skills. He grew cocky over time and enjoyed playing a squeaky flute that sounded terrible and annoyed the townspeople. One day, fueled by his hubris, he’d held up the flute and said, “If anyone can take this flute from me, I will bow to that person’s every command.”

  One night, a succubus by the name of Dahlia had showed up on his front porch. She seduced Frank, and while he slept like a baby post coitus, she lifted his flute and took it back to the demons she served in the Red Cavern.

  She’d given the flute to Bruceras. However, a frozen spirit didn’t mesh well with a group that hated the cold, thus its use was limited. The current situation in Pittsburgh presented the perfect opportunity to unleash the beast. All the demons had to do was blow into the flute, and a murderous ice monster would carry out their devious wishes.

  This couldn’t have been random. Lauren and Randall were targeted because of their association to me. Despite the frozen conditions, a fire raged inside me. I looked around the room and could see the struggle as if it was happening in front of me.

  Ice Heart busted in through the front door and Randall jumped up to protect Lauren. Ice Heart backhanded him aside and he crashed into the bookshelf against the wall. Old leather-bound works were st
rewn about the floor, their yellowing pages frozen to the floor. The light mustiness provided short relief from the decomposing bodies. It was strange. The temperature should have slowed rigor mortis and the resulting putrefaction.

  I used the sleeve of my jacket to cover my mouth and nose as I assessed the incident. Ice Heart knocked Randall aside and went after Lauren, who tried to hide behind her desk. I walked toward her body and noticed three deep scrapes on the corner of the desktop that weren’t there on my last visit.

  I kneeled down and looked at her left hand. The fingernails from her index, middle and ring finger were broken off, a clear sign of a struggle. It appeared that Ice Heart had dragged her back into the open area. Her right orbital had been shattered by what had to have been a thunderous punch.

  Then Randall made it to his feet and rushed the monster, the brave hero. I walked over to his body and noticed the broken blood vessels and bruising around his neck. Ice Heart used his oversized hands to choke my trusty employee out. Tossing the dead body of Randall aside, the predator stalked his prey in the form of Lauren crawling away from him.

  A bruised knuckle imprint on her forehead told the story. That type of head trauma could kill someone. Then I thought about the repeated punches he had thrown, and my head started to spin. I could see her bawling and begging for the animal to stop, wondering why he’d come after her.

  And then just like that. In the blink of an eye. It was over. Her life was gone. Her family would be devastated. Her community would be crushed. I grew dizzy and nauseated, grabbing onto the desk to support my balance.

  The devils of the Red Cavern knew I was alive, and they decided to send a message. I received it loud and clear and had a return message of my own. The sound of breaking glass behind me cause me to whirl around, ready for action. No one was around, and I noticed that a picture had fallen from Randall’s desk.