One Good Dragon Deserves Another

by Rachel Aaron

  “That doesn’t sound very accurate.”

  Marci shrugged. “We’re talking about free-handing a casting circle big enough to hold the yearly magical output of the entire DFZ. A few bumps are unavoidable. Just do your best to get it round-ish and I’ll adjust at the end.”

  Julius still wasn’t sure, but this was Marci’s area of expertise, so he took his can and got going, laying down a line of glittering silver paint over the tall grass behind him.

  ***

  Marci’s circle ended up being nearly a quarter mile in diameter. It took them almost the entire hour just to draw the thing, which left Marci barely fifteen minutes to frantically write out the spellwork as the sun sank toward the horizon.

  Julius tried his best to give her space, but as the minutes ticked down to the wire, he found himself edging closer until he was standing almost on top of her, nervously watching as she set down what he hoped were the last lines of the spell on the edge of the giant circle where it crossed one of the few remaining unbroken sections of sidewalk.

  “Almost there,” she said, sticking her tongue out of the side of her mouth in concentration as she dragged the chalk across the dirty cement so fast, the dust flew up like a cloud. “Just need to add in a protection so everything stays in place and…done!” She sat up with a grin. “What do you think?”

  “It’s definitely big enough,” Julius said, looking down the silver spray-painted line that ran glittering off into the distance. “But isn’t it a little noticeable?”

  “Only because I haven’t activated it yet,” she said. “Observe.”

  Marci leaned over and placed her hands on the spray-painted line. The moment her skin touched the paint, the scent of her magic cut through the syrup-thick power in the air, and then the whole circle lit up. For a heartbeat, it flared like burning phosphorus, and then the silver spray-painted line vanished without a trace.

  “How did you do that?” Julius said, leaning down to poke at the now completely normal looking grass that had been covered in paint only seconds before.

  Marci stood up with a cocky smile. “Illusion master, remember? I’m not going to go through the trouble of making a circle this big without taking out some insurance. I also added in a few lines to make it all waterproof because, you know, obvious reasons.”

  She grinned, clearly expecting him to laugh, but Julius was too nervous to find anything funny. Now that the spell was done, it was starting to hit him that this was it. The sun was now as low as it could go in the sky. Vann Jeger would be here any second, and even though they were as prepared as they could possibly be, it was hard to be calm. He didn’t doubt Marci for a second, but a spray-painted circle, however big, suddenly felt like very poor protection against the world’s most infamous dragon hunter.

  “Maybe we should just try to break the curse and run?”

  Marci’s head snapped up. “What?”

  Since it wouldn’t matter to the illusion, Julius ran a shaking hand through his hair. “I know I was the one who said we should fight Vann Jeger to save Justin, but now that we’re here, I worry we’re trying to do too much. If we had more time, it’d be different, but this just feels so rushed. Don’t want to reach too far and end up losing everything, you know?”

  “But that’s how it works,” Marci said, her face growing serious. “Risk and reward are intrinsically linked. We don’t get anything if we take the safe route every time.”

  “I know,” Julius said, looking down at her. “But…”

  But I don’t want to risk you.

  That was what he wanted to say, but admitting it out loud where she could hear terrified him way more than Vann Jeger. Thankfully, Marci interpreted his speechlessness as fear of a different sort.

  “We can do this, Julius,” she said with that supreme, unquestionable confidence that had drawn him to her in the first place. “Everything’s been planned, everything’s in place. All you have to do is get Vann Jeger in the circle and keep him there, which shouldn’t be hard at all. I mean, look at you!” She threw out her hands. “You look like the most terrifying dragon I’ve ever seen! Vann Jeger will eat you up.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  Marci winced. “Okay, bad choice of words, but I’m telling you it’s going to be fine. How many banishments have we done over the last month?”

  “Thirty-two,” he said.

  “You see?” she said, spreading her arms wide. “We’ve got this thing down to a science. I don’t care what nonsense Vann Jeger shows up with, his butt is getting kicked. For good, too, because I’m sick of being the weak human. I’m going to show that stupid spirit what it means to mess with a mage.”

  Her eyes were flashing when she finished, almost like she was daring him to argue, but Julius had nothing to say except, “Thank you.”

  Marci blinked. “For what?”

  “For not letting me back down,” he said with a nervous smile. “For everything, really. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, so I wanted to tell you thank you. Just in case the worst happens.”

  “Well, it’s not going to happen,” Marci said firmly, stepping closer until he couldn’t have looked away from her if he’d tried. “Listen to me, Julius. I know your family likes to put you down, but I’ve met my share of dragons at this point, and I can say without a doubt that you are every bit as sneaky and slippery and cunning as the rest. Just because you don’t use your powers to be a colossal jerk doesn’t mean they’re not there, so you can kick your worst case scenarios to the curb, because if anyone can pull off this insanity, it’s you.”

  That was such an odd, Marci-esque mix of insult and praise, he couldn’t help but grin. There was nothing romantic about standing in a trash-littered field at sunset waiting for a spirit who was coming to murder you, but in this moment, Julius couldn’t imagine anywhere he’d rather be. After so many years of being a failure, the shame of the Heartstrikers, the idea that someone as undeniably capable as Marci trusted him—believed in him—was more than he could ever hope to ask for.

  But then, she always had been.

  The truth of that sudden realization made his breath catch. From the very first time they’d met, Marci had been more than he had any right to expect. She was his ally, his teammate, his clever, brave, beautiful friend who’d stood by him with a loyalty other dragons paid kingdoms for. Three days ago, he’d thought he’d be happy forever if he could just hold on to that, but now, after everything that had happened, merely holding on was no longer enough.

  Maybe it was the looming threat of death, or maybe there really was a risk-taking dragon inside him somewhere, because suddenly, Julius couldn’t wait another second. So he didn’t. He did something better, something he’d been wanting to do almost from the moment he first saw Marci marching toward him across that crowded restaurant.

  He kissed her.

  ***

  In hindsight, his timing left much to be desired. Kissing someone out of the blue when you both were waiting to be attacked was not very considerate. He should have given her some warning at least, because Marci nearly jumped out of her boots when their lips met. If he hadn’t been a dragon with superhuman speed, she would have head-butted him, which would have been awkward all around. But ill-advised as he knew this was, Julius didn’t regret it for a second. Vann Jeger could have landed on his head right now and he wouldn’t have cared so long as he didn’t have to stop kissing Marci.

  He just wished she’d kiss him back.

  Julius froze, eyes shooting open. Why wasn’t she kissing him back? He’d thought she’d wanted to in the closet. Had she changed her mind? Maybe he’d read things all wrong. Maybe she didn’t want this at all.

  With that splinter of doubt, the reality of what he’d just done hit Julius like a punch. He’d kissed Marci. Without asking. Right before a fight. No, forget the fight. Going up against the world’s best dragon hunter was nothing compared to a reckless kiss that might have just cost him the most important friendship
of his life.

  Feeling like the absolute worst, Julius jerked away, his brain scrambling to think of how in the world he was going to fix this. But as he opened his mouth to start apologizing, Marci grabbed his shoulders and yanked him back down.

  “Don’t stop,” she commanded against his lips, wrapping her arms so tight around his neck he nearly choked. “Don’t you dare stop.”

  Julius slumped into her, happily pressing his body into hers. He was so relieved he could have laughed, but doing so would have meant stopping his kiss with Marci, and now that he knew she was okay with it, he wasn’t doing that again for anything. Just like the night in the hotel, she was warm and soft in his arms, only now it was even better, because she wasn’t kissing him out of obligation or gratitude. She was kissing him because she wanted to. Because she wanted him.

  Just thinking about that made him feel like he was flying. The fear, the heavy magic, the constant sense of impending doom, it was all gone. It was like he’d closed a door on everything that wasn’t Marci in his arms right now, which was why he didn’t notice his sister standing directly beside them until she cleared her throat.

  It was a sign of just how giddy he was that Julius actually considered ignoring her. Fortunately for everyone, Marci’s survival instincts were still functioning. It only took her a handful of seconds before she untangled herself, her face flushed but completely unrepentant as she turned to look at Chelsie, who was watching the two of them with a thoroughly unamused expression.

  “If you’re finished,” she said, looking pointedly at the setting sun. “It’s time.”

  Julius was not finished. He didn’t think he’d ever be finished, but Chelsie was right. The edge of the sun was now undeniably touching the horizon, which meant Vann Jeger was due to arrive any second. But even with the Death of Dragons incoming, Julius couldn’t let Marci go before he explained himself.

  “Listen,” he said, turning his back to Chelsie so he could pretend he wasn’t saying this in front of his sister. “I—”

  The word was barely out of his mouth when something icy touched his foot. He looked down in surprise, expecting Ghost, but it wasn’t the spirit. Or, at least, it wasn’t Marci’s spirit.

  Water was rising from the grass at their feet. It seeped up through the dirt like a welling spring, rapidly turning the hard, dry ground to sludge. Unlike a natural spring, though, this water reeked of salt and dragon blood, pushing back even the oppressive, wild stench of the Reclamation Land magic as it rushed over the empty roads and fields of the DFZ side of the border.

  “Crap,” Marci whispered, her face turning serious as she splashed back to her thankfully—and, in hindsight, brilliantly—waterproofed spellwork. “Battle stations.”

  “No, wait,” Julius said, running after her. “I might not get another chance to—”

  “You will,” she said, whirling back around to face him. “Because we’re going to win this. After that, we’ll pick up where we left off, but right now you have to stop being sweet and go be a terrible and ruthless dragon or the whole gig is up.”

  She was right. He knew she was right, but—

  “Listen to me, Julius,” Marci said fiercely, cutting him off before he could say another word. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted you to kiss me? There is no way on Earth I am dying after that, so go do your part.” She broke into a giddy grin. “The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can get back to what we were doing.”

  That was the best motivation for survival Julius could imagine, but he couldn’t stop himself from darting in to press a quick, final kiss against Marci’s cheek. He held on for as long as he could, savoring the smooth, soft feel of her skin until the very last second before turning away and striding out to the center of the circle where the rising water was deepest.

  By the time he reached the assigned meeting place, the freezing water was up to his knees. As promised, Chelsie had already vanished, and with Marci hanging back to keep a hold on her hidden circle, that meant Julius was taking his stand alone. He was trying not to be intimidated at the prospect when his ears caught the distant thunder of horse hooves.

  Julius had never been a particularly good student during his strategic combat lessons—partially because he didn’t like violence, but mostly he’d been too busy defending himself from his siblings to worry about outside threats—but even he knew what that sound meant. But knowing what was coming didn’t make it any less scary when a giant warhorse made of crashing waves burst through the center of the mini-ocean Vann Jeger’s magic had created in the fields surrounding 8 Mile Road.

  It exploded up like a torpedo, rocketing out of the water only to come crashing down again seconds later, its dinner-plate-sized hooves splashing water all over Julius’s front as it landed in front of him, bringing its massive rider face to face at last with the dragon he’d come to fight.

  Oddly enough, Julius’s first thought was that pictures he’d seen didn’t do Vann Jeger justice. The spirit in the old news footage they’d studied at the mountain merely looked like a large, oddly-colored human with an impressive weapons collection. In reality, standing in front of Vann Jeger felt like standing in front of a hurricane. Flat pictures, even video, simply could not capture the force-of-nature menace that poured off him like water down a hill. A sensation that only got worse when the spirit set his enormous wooden spear on his shoulder and scanned the ruined landscape with his black eyes before finally resting them on his enemy.

  “Well, well,” Vann Jeger said, the words crunching like cracking sea ice as he looked Julius over. “That’s more like it. I’d hoped for a Fang, of course, but you are not as great a disappointment as the whelp I faced earlier.”

  The mention of Justin made Julius flinch. A detail that did not escape Vann Jeger.

  “Concerned about your brother?” The spirit taunted with a grin. “Don’t worry. Algonquin saved his head for herself, but yours is another matter.” He leaned forward on his horse, eyes gleaming. “What do they call you, wyrm?”

  Julius clamped his jaw tight as he let the illusion Marci and Amelia had put together do the work of maintaining proper draconic disdain. Good thing, too, because inside, he was nearing full panic. The others had tried to warn him, but knowing that Vann Jeger was a big spirit and experiencing it firsthand were two very different things. Nothing could have prepared him for the reality of the murderous intent that emanated from the spirit like cold from an iceberg. And he was supposed to stall this for half an hour?

  Oddly enough, that thought was his salvation. Though his body was screaming at him to escape as fast as he could, there was nowhere to go. Vann Jeger was here—huge and implacable and right in front of him—and the only chance Julius had of surviving was to follow the plan as closely and calmly as possible. Any panic, even the normal, healthy kind, would only guarantee defeat, which was intolerable. He’d only just gotten up the guts to kiss Marci. He couldn’t fail now. Forward was the only option, so Julius embraced it, shoving his fear aside as he threw himself into the role he’d agreed to play.

  This was actually a lot easier than he’d expected. He’d never considered himself any sort of actor, but in this case, the sheer quantity of examples he had to pull from made up for his lack of natural talent. He didn’t even have to think about it too hard. All he had to do was think of Ian and Svena and Bethesda and Chelsie and pretty much every dragon who’d ever looked down on him, and the words just came rolling out.

  “My name is not for the likes of you.”

  If things had been less dire, Julius would have cheered. That cold, haughty voice didn’t sound anything like him. Vann Jeger, however, looked more dreadful than ever.

  “Then you are unique among your kind,” the spirit sneered. “Most dragons are all too eager to recite their ridiculous titles. But I suppose it matters not.” His sneer turned back into a smirk. “I don’t need your name to kill you.”

  “And I didn’t come here to listen to uninspired threats,” Julius said,
looking at Vann Jeger with the bored, I-have-nothing-better-to-do-so-I’m-deigning-to-interact-with-you expression that Ian used in all their conversations. “You said Algonquin saved my brother’s head for herself. Does that mean he’s already mounted on her wall?”

  Please say no. Please say no.

  “He lives for now,” the spirit said with a shrug, almost making Julius sigh in relief. “But why do you care? Your mother didn’t seem to.”

  Julius wasn’t sure how to answer that one. Channel Ian. “The Heartstriker knows better than to let spirits know her real intentions,” he said haughtily, lifting his chin so high he got a crick in his neck. “And beyond idle curiosity, I don’t care. I’m only here because you inconvenienced my human.”

  The spirit laughed, making the ground tremble. “Your human? A pathetic baby mage who let herself get caught.”

  “A brilliant mage who is very precious to me,” Julius said, not even needing the illusion to make him sound cold this time. “Normally, I would make you pay for what you did to her, but that’s what you want, isn’t it?”

  That question was his best chance for a stall. Even when it was obvious what they wanted, no dragon would ever just admit their true goal. He’d hoped to trick Vann Jeger into going around in coy circles for at least another few minutes. But, sadly, this was where Julius’s vast experience failed him, because Vann Jeger wasn’t a dragon, and he didn’t take the bait.

  “It is,” the spirit thundered, his face splitting into a terrifying grin. “I’d thought she’d led me false when she claimed you were powerful, but it seems your human was telling the truth after all. I do not know what son of the Heartstriker you are, serpent, but you are clearly worth my time, and that pleases me greatly.” He waved his hand sharply through the air. “The Sword of Damocles is lifted,” he announced. “Your human may live.”

  The words were barely out of the spirit’s mouth when Julius heard Marci’s delighted gasp. Before he could even feel happy about it, though, the spirit added, “You, on the other hand, will have to fight for your head.”