The Scarlet Dragon Saga

by J. P. Rice

  “Dweezil would make everything so much simpler,” I told her. “Bruceras trusts him more than anyone else. He has access to many things that we don’t. He likes you. Maybe you should work on him.”

  “I’m not whoring myself out,” she said, raising her voice. “I’m still not over my experience with Aka Manah.”

  “No.” I waved my hands in front of my chest. “I wasn’t suggesting that at all. I mean, just be nice to him. Maybe pat him on the back gently when you talk to him. It could be the difference between life and death.”

  “I guess I could do that,” she said, calming down. “I don’t know what he’s thinking either. Bruceras is going to kill him too.”

  “I don’t think he’s accepted it yet.” Moisture leaked from my palms. I wondered if Dweezil was ratting us out. “He’s still floating down that river in Egypt known as Denial. Years of blind loyalty will do that to a person. But soon his boat will spring a few leaks and he’ll have to face a harsh realization.”

  Dweezil returned about fifteen minutes later.

  The splotchy rash on his neck and face told me that this was hitting him hard. He collapsed dramatically to the ground and curled up on his side.

  I looked at Cheryl and gestured with my eyes for her to take action.

  She rolled her eyes and patted him on the biceps. “There, there. There, there,” she said in a monotone.

  I shot her a dirty look. She had been through a lot, but our lives were on the line. I said, “I know this is all a big shock to you, but we need to set this plan.”

  “And what is your grand plan?” he asked with no emotion in his words.

  “That’s what we need you for,” I explained as I sat down next to him. “Obviously we will need to distract Bruceras somehow and launch a sneak attack. That’s probably our best bet.”

  “So what? You’re just going to wave your hand around, and say, hey look over there?” He pointed at the wall for added effect. “And then bop him on the head?”

  I answered, “That’s a much more simplistic version. If you two could distract him, I have enough magic that I could either kill him or hurt him bad enough that we could finish him off.”

  We went back and forth for a while as we tried to devise a cohesive plan. It was difficult because we were in the dark about the details of the mission. Dweezil had informed us that Bruceras wanted to take the Harp to St. Louis to cause a never-ending winter there.

  I wondered if the devil knew about a certain wizard who lived there. He wasn’t the type of wizard you wanted to piss off. He was on the list with the Sphinx and the Morrigan as someone I didn’t want to get into a brawl with.

  Unfortunately, none of that mattered right now. I’d been there when Mike Merlino’s world had been turned upside down. I needed to secure Ice Heart’s flute to get back into his good graces. If that was even possible now. I wouldn’t blame him one bit if he told me to fook off.

  “Hey Dweezil. You have any idea where Bruceras keeps Ice Heart’s flute? I had a run in with him before I came here and I’d like to settle the score,” I lied. Sort of.

  “It’s in the elbow pocket of his duster. I take it out every day when I clean his clothes. I’m not even sure he knows it’s in there to be honest. He asks me about it every time he travels to Pittsburgh to use it.”

  Perfect. “What do you think about snagging that for me so I can taste some sweet revenge?”

  “Stealing from a devil?” he said, his eyes bulging from his head. His years of subservience were hard to shake.

  “To be fair, it would be more like borrowing from a devil who was planning to kill you.” I clenched my teeth and grinned.

  “Let me see what I can do,” he responded.

  That helped greatly, but it didn’t solve the entire problem. The Morrigan’s birdies couldn’t get into the Red Cavern. Even if Dweezil could get the flute, I still had to figure out how to smuggle it out of here. Hmmm. Her crows did travel to St. Louis.

  Another thought hit me. If I summoned Ice Heart to the Red Cavern, it would kill him because of the temperature. He wouldn’t be able to re-form like he had that day at the park. He could melt partially and keep turning it back into ice, creating a track to glide on, but he couldn’t spend an extended time in a hot place like the Red Cavern. He would be in a constant state of regeneration.

  His cryokinesis would be the only thing he could concentrate on, and I could kill him easily. I would need to find a remote area away from the other demons for that. But that plan wouldn’t do anything to help with Mike.

  If I could get the flute to the Morrigan and she could pass it along to Mike, he would look like a hero. And maybe he would take a little sympathy on the plight I had faced. A better plan was to get the flute from Dweezil and have the Morrigan’s avian crew pick it up in St. Louis. Then she could give it to Mike.

  That left more work to do. I needed to send a message to the Morrigan and get confirmation from her. If she approved, we needed to devise a tracking system for her birds to find the flute. It wouldn’t solve the overlying problem, but eliminating Ice Heart would help a bunch of Pittsburghers sleep better.

  Later that night, I waited until Cheryl fell asleep. I pried open my skin to get to the Raven’s Eye and held my thumb over it. When it started to glow, I tapped it three times.

  Chapter 26

  A computerized voice said, “Please record your message.”

  I pulled my wrist closer to my face.

  “Mo, I think I can get Ice Heart’s flute,” I whispered. “We will be going to St. Louis. Can your birds pick it up out there?”

  I sat back against the wall with my knees against my chest. The Morrigan could respond in ten seconds or ten days. A burning sensation centered in my wrist and I looked at the eye. It was blinking, which meant there was a message.

  I tapped the eye twice and the Morrigan’s voice came through, “I can help you out. When you get there, tap the eye seven times to mark your general location. After that, tap it once to mark the exact spot of the flute. You’ll have to stand in that spot for five seconds so I can get the coordinates. My crows will take it from there.”

  I tapped the eye three times again. “Please record your message.”

  “Mo, make sure you give it to Mike Merlino and tell him I am so sorry about what happened. He’ll know what I’m talking about. And Mo. Thank you.”

  I assumed the Celtic Gods had heard about the destruction at Mike’s house. Did he blame me? I certainly blamed myself. But if I could get the Dagda’s Harp and end the suffering in Pittsburgh, he would see that it was all for a greater goal.

  Was it enough, though? Mike’s house had burned down, his adopted son had used the Devil’s Glove, which caused insanity, and the status of his unborn child was up in the air. People could move to a new city, but Mike couldn’t just replace the damage that had occurred.

  First Alexis, then Mike. I couldn’t watch any more families being torn apart.

  I’d lost Darabond over five hundred years ago. Then, I had been blessed with children, only for them to die unnecessarily. Even though we hadn’t been a real family, they had been ripped away from me.

  After they had died, my father was the only family member left. I didn’t count my mother as family. When I’d lost him, I felt empty. Still do.

  Dealing with the constant pain and trauma had turned me into a callous individual. A cold, distant person who would rather avoid someone than take the chance of being hurt by that person. I’d seen the worst the world had to offer, and I’d participated in some of it.

  I didn’t want that to happen to these other families. Their hearts were filled with love. Even Mike, who operated in a dark world, was a soldier of light. I kept going back to our conversation when we were detained at Octavius’s.

  He had talked about how he just wanted to be a family man. His magical ability and looks, coupled with Pittsburgh’s acceptance of the supernatural meant he could have any girl he wanted, for the most part. He could be out p
artying every night with a different girl if he wanted to. And no one would blame him for it.

  Instead, he fought against the bad guys, then went home to his family. He didn’t need the tickertape parade. He didn’t need a big crowd cheering for him. And here I was, five hundred years his senior, and jealous of his noble ways.

  I wanted a family so bad that I was ready to build one around my dragons. To start a proper family, I would have to give up on Darabond. Could I do that? Just thinking about it caused my breathing to become husky and labored.

  Or I could start a family with Alexis. There were a lot of single moms out there. Owen had been right about my current lifestyle not being conducive to raising a child. If I chose this path, it meant that I would have to give up this life of adventure. I would have to give up my dragons.

  Or would I? What girl wouldn’t want to grow up with a family of dragons? She would be well protected. As I continued thinking about it, my head started to spin. There was one person I went to when my mind was swimming. My father.

  He’d always been there to help me sort out my thoughts. When I felt like I wanted to go on a murderous rampage, he was always there to talk me down from the ledge. Now he was gone. Darabond was gone. My children were gone. I had no family.

  I’m sure if my father were around, he’d lecture me about the adoption process and tell me that it wasn’t as simple as plucking a cantaloupe from the grocery store display.

  I only had my scrambled head and myself to rely on now.

  I got woozy and my vision failed. No. No.

  I blinked my eyes open and felt the harsh light pouring down on me from above. Escape didn’t cross my mind this time as the metal cuffs locked my arms to the silver chair. The door to my right opened and shut as the movie screen lowered from the ceiling.

  Agramon entered my field of vision in his normal snakeman form with spider legs protruding from his sides. He leaned in close, rubbing his slimy, reptilian cheek against mine. I fought off the urge to vomit as he leaned in closer to my ear.

  “Welcome back,” he whispered.

  I didn’t say anything and waited for the film session to start. The projector shot a beam toward the screen, but it was blank. I could hear the projector running and the still crackle of film sound, but nothing appeared. A few more seconds passed, and I wondered what was happening.

  “Aren’t you going to ask?” Agramon backed away from me.

  I wanted this to be over as soon as possible, so I played along with him. “Why isn’t anything on the screen?”

  “The screen only plays your deepest fears of your past. Not your present or future,” he hinted.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s quite simple really,” Agramon explained. “You call on me to help you deal with your deepest and darkest fears.”

  “I don’t call on you. You pop up unexpectedly,” I clarified.

  He walked out of my field of vision and said, “Semantics. One way or another, I deal with your fears because you won’t do it. Right now, your biggest fear isn’t about yourself. You’re growing as a person. It’s good for both of us.”

  He strolled back in front of the blank screen.

  “Both of us?” I asked, confused.

  “Of course,” he confirmed, and a sinister smile took form on his reptilian face. “Sympathy is the ugly stepsister of fear. When you sympathize with someone, it is only natural that you fear something bad might happen to that person. You are afraid for someone else. Likely an alien feeling for you.”

  “Fook you, asshole,” I returned. His words stung, but he wasn’t wrong. After my children died, it was hard to feel bad for others when I’d been through so much.

  Agramon moved in front of the blank screen and stuck his forked tongue out. He was enjoying my anger.

  “I know what this is about. Alexis,” I revealed.

  “That is one half of your greatest fears right now.”

  One thing had been dominating my thoughts recently.

  “I know what it is. I fear that Alexis might end up in a bad situation. And the other has to be Mike and his girlfriend. I can’t get them out of my head. I feel horrible about that and I fear she might lose the baby.”

  “Yes. You are maturing. It only took a little more than five centuries,” he said, mocking me.

  Maybe I was evolving. It seemed like a good thing, except for the Agramon factor. Worrying about other people was a form of fear that the demonic spirit would take advantage of. But how could I not worry about Alexis and Mike? Or his girlfriend? Or his son who could have suffered mental damage from using the Devil’s Glove?

  In the past, I would’ve said, ‘Sorry about your luck’ and moved on. But now I had a personal connection with Alexis and Mike. My pounding heart and husky breathing proved that I did care about them. I was scared about their futures. Perhaps it was a motherly reflex. I’d lost my own children, and with them, I’d lost a part of my soul.

  Perhaps I was latching onto Mike and Alexis to fill the void. To give myself purpose. More purpose than hunting down ancient relics. What was my legacy?

  “They aren’t your children, you know,” Agramon said, reading my thoughts.

  I tried to stand up and blast him in the mouth, but the restraints locked my arms to the chair. “You son of a bitch.”

  “Why does that comment make you mad?” he asked calmly.

  “Don’t play stupid.”

  “I was merely pointing out a fact,” he said, still calm. “They do hurt sometimes. I could leave your head if you wish.”

  My eyes widened. “Then do it.”

  “Oh, we know each other well enough by now.” He paced in front of me. “I won’t just walk away without something from you.”

  “I’m not springing you on any of my friends,” I told him.

  “If you give me three minds to take up residence in, I will leave your mind, no questions asked.”

  I sat in silence. The prospect of getting rid of Agramon enticed me.

  “Let’s say I can make this happen. How can I summon your physical form?” I asked.

  “When you are ready to strike said deal, clap seven times.” He approached me. He set his sweaty palms on top of my hands and leveled his eyes with mine. I smelled liver on his breath. “And don’t try anything foolish either like ambushing me. I am wise to these kinds of tricks. My spirit can kill you from within. If you kill my physical form, my spirit would be none too happy.”

  “Your spirit would die without a physical form,” I said.

  “Aaahhh, but I have your physical form. Remember?” he asked rhetorically.

  “But if you killed me your spirit would die,” I said, staring into the dark abyss of his eyes.

  “Very observant.” He removed his hands and took a step back. “That is a price I’d be happy to pay.”

  Someone shook me awake. My eyes shot open and I felt sweat covering my whole body.

  Cheryl was shaking me. “Wake up. You’re having a nightmare.”

  I sat up against the wall in our room, and she slid over next to me. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

  “You kept screaming about how sorry you were and how you didn’t mean to do it.”

  “I think it’s just the setting. I’ve been having some weird dreams since we’ve been here.” The truth was that I’d barely slept in the Red Cavern. The lava incident kept me on edge constantly. How could I go to sleep in this place?

  I hoped I would drift away for a while tonight. The next morning, I planned to kill a devil.

  Chapter 27

  My body materialized in St. Louis. I was standing in snow, which was strange for this time of year. Cheryl and Dweezil started to appear in front of me. Bruceras stood waiting for us to start the mission.

  It was basically a standoff. Bruceras could complete the “mission” right now by playing the Dagda’s Harp. The devil had made up a story about how he needed to play the Harp in a certain location away from
the portal drop off.

  As Bruceras checked his bag for the Harp, I dropped to one knee and pretended to tie my bootlaces. Instead, I kept my eye on the devil and sent the signal to the Morrigan to let her know the location. That way, her birds would be in the vicinity when I hid the flute.

  We were all dressed in thermal suits under our regular gear. Cheryl and I were in our Steelers winter jackets and jeans. Dweezil sported a leather vest and gray corduroy pants. Bruceras had his leather pants and long black duster covering his undersuit. The devil had the Harp stashed away in a leather carryall that was slung over his shoulder.

  Bruceras and Dweezil had shifted into human form. They were still the same size, but Bruceras had shaggy red hair, freckles and blue eyes. Dweezil had a dark complexion, dark eyes and a ragged beard.

  “The spot is right through these woods right here,” Bruceras announced, pointing toward a frosty forest.

  Of course. We just needed to travel through a forest where no one could see or hear us. Nothing shady about that. Too bad for him that we were onto his plan. Why hadn’t he just accused us of wrongdoing and had us executed in the Red Cavern?

  As we headed for the woods, I realized that it would be difficult for the Morrigan’s crows to find the flute in the forest. I let the group move ahead and pretended to tie my bootlaces again. First, I pried open my skin and sent the second signal to Mo. I started counting.

  Then, I slid my finger into my boot and plucked out the golden flute. Five seconds had passed, and I dropped it in the snow and got up to rejoin the group. Without warning, Bruceras turned around. He started walking toward the spot where I’d dropped the flute. Oh, fook. What was he doing?

  “What’s wrong?” Dweezil asked.

  “Just making sure this is the correct location.” He stopped and looked up at the sky, partially obscured by the snowy branches. My heart dropped as he was standing in the exact spot where I had set the flute. All he had to do was look down and we were screwed. Or at least, I was screwed.

  A tingle of panic traced over my body. Then, as abruptly as he had stopped and turned around, the devil whirled and tramped through the snow to rejoin us.