Curse of the Dragon

Home > Other > Curse of the Dragon > Page 7
Curse of the Dragon Page 7

by Madison Johns


  I nestled on the ground in the aftermath, my wings cradling me as all the rage inside me vanished. Rage funneled from my inability to control my wings. I clambered to my feet and willed my wings to move with me.

  I walked to a stream that ran with the valley and glanced down at my shimmering reflection. My elongated slits for pupils, the massive wings that flapped in the wind behind me now. I was now certain what I’d become. I was a dragon -- or at least part of one. My eyes and wings were the furthest it had gone if I subtracted breathing fire. In any other way I was still a human, a strong one on occasion. I had to get the control part down, which perplexed me at the moment. The wings, eyes and fire appeared almost at once. I think I breathed fire this time only because I was angry that I had collapsed beneath the wings. Could I breathe fire at will now or at least when I was angry?

  I removed my shoes and socks and waded into the ice cold stream until I felt the heat dissipate. I dropped to my knees, my fingers clawing into the mud, and I buried my face in the slight current until I felt suddenly lighter.

  I rocked back to my heels and stood. I felt more refreshed than I had in years. When I glanced back into the stream my pupils were normal and my wings gone. I stretched as far as I could and felt my now smooth back.

  I redressed my feet and held what was left of my blouse and cameo top around me as I raced to the car. I hadn’t thought about what had just transpired as negative. I was relieved to find out what I was capable of, though I wasn’t sure of what use I’d have for wings or breathing fire. The thought occurred to me that the person who died had indeed been a dragon and his spirit left to inhabit me just before his death. What does it truly mean to be cursed by the dragon? It chose its host, but should have chosen better. I was the last person a dragon should inhabit.

  I stood in line at the mall food court. It was the only place I could think I’d have anonymity. A steak sandwich with onions, mushrooms and green peppers was on the menu today. I ordered it rare as possible and took it to go just in case someone spotted me. I didn’t want to go into a long explanation about why I’d ordered a meat sandwich. Or why I’d suddenly begun craving meat. The dragon inside me demanded it. Even my taste buds agreed, as vegetables were tasteless to me now. I should be bothered about that, but I wasn’t.

  I hummed to myself as I exited the mall. I walked along the sidewalk, slowly becoming aware that a tan sedan was cruising slightly behind me. I didn’t want to turn and look into Bernstein or Hughes faces if it was them. They hadn’t bothered me since the other day at my apartment, and I hoped it would stay that way.

  My pulse quicken and my heart thudded against my chest. I should have made a run for it, but I wasn’t absolutely positive I was in danger. But something certainly seemed off. I worked my cell phone out of my pocket and called Detective Blake.

  He picked up on the first ring. “I was expecting your call earlier,” he said.

  “I didn’t think you wanted to be interrupted.”

  “Then why are you calling?”

  “I think I’m being followed at the mall. Tan sedan.”

  “I’m on my way. Go back inside until I get there.”

  I stopped and turned toward the sedan. Sure enough, Bernstein was behind the wheel with Hughes riding shotgun.

  I ducked into the shoe store and chatted up the first sales clerk I found -- Nina, according to her name tag.

  “Could you show me where the Skechers are, Nina?” I asked.

  She smiled. “Right this way.”

  I followed her past rows of shelves and stalled. “Do you mind standing here until my friend arrives? Someone’s following me.”

  The woman’s eyes protruded slightly. “Don’t worry, I got you. I dated a clown like that a few years ago. He stalked me everywhere I went until I shot him in the man parts, if you catch my drift. In self-defense, of course.”

  “Is there any other way?”

  “Is that your stalker?” Nina asked at Detective Blake’s approach. “Damn, he can stalk me anytime,” she whispered.

  “He’s a cop, if that matters.”

  “Long as he don’t arrest my brother I’m fine with it. He has an outstanding warrant.”

  “You probably shouldn’t tell Blake that.” I smiled. I thanked Nina and she walked away to help a woman with two small children.

  Blake was comfortably dressed in khaki pants hugging his trim hips, a swatch of dark chest hair visible from the v-neck of his linen shirt.

  I stared down at his canvas shoes. “Going sailing? Or are you undercover for a pirating ring?”

  “I’m just coming into work. I had an appointment with the psychics, but they didn’t show.”

  That got my attention. “That can’t be good. Of course you have to consider they might not want to meet with you unless you’ve met them previously.”

  “We’ve only spoken on the phone.”

  “So you dressed down to put the psychics at ease?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Unless you had a lunch date.”

  “I’ll never tell.” The muscles in his jaw bunched. “Tell me about the car that was following you.”

  I picked up a box of Sketchers and paid for them at the register, being sure to mention Nina’s name so she’d get the commission.

  “It’s Bernstein and Hughes,” I told Blake. “I looked right into their beady little eyes.”

  “Did they try to force you in the car?”

  “I didn’t give them enough time. I darted into the store.”

  “They didn’t follow you inside? Interesting.”

  “I can’t imagine that would be a good idea. It would draw too much attention.”

  “You’re probably right. Bernstein and Hughes don’t exactly want to attract attention.”

  “They showed their faces on the news,” I pointed out. “But what if they don’t actually work for the government? Have you checked?”

  “I ran their names.”

  “Let me guess; they’re not in the database?”

  “No. And they don’t work for the FBI, according to my source. And nobody has ever heard of the Retrieval Division of the federal government.”

  “It wouldn’t surprise me if it was a secret agency.”

  “Me either. We’ll have to play this by ear and see where it goes. Stay away from them.”

  “No worries there.”

  “I’ll follow you home.”

  “Good. Then you can come up and tell me all about questioning Bigfoot. Is his name really Earle?”

  “Earle Longjohn, but I can’t talk about it here.”

  I pulled into a parking spot at my condo and Blake pulled up next to me.

  Mr. Asshole revved his engine. “That’s my parking spot,” he yelled over at Blake.

  I jumped out of my car and made a move to tell the jerk off, but Blake took care of it for me. He flashed his police badge. “Official police business.”

  He skidded out of the parking garage.

  I shrugged. “Now he’s pissed at you, but somehow I have the feeling he’ll be in my face about this.”

  “At least he lets you park in your own parking spot now.” Blake noisily took in a breath through his nose. “Is that a steak sandwich I smell?”

  “Yup,” I said as I walked toward the elevator carrying my takeout bag.

  “But aren’t you a vegetarian?”

  I stopped and turned to Blake. “And?”

  “I think I should confiscate it. I don’t think PETA will approve.”

  “I wouldn’t try it if I were you.”

  Blake put his hands up. “I come in peace.” He laughed.

  “Keep this between us.”

  “I don’t think anyone cares if you eat a steak sandwich. I’ve just never known you to eat meat.”

  “I don’t know what’s gotten into me lately. I didn’t mean to be bitchy. I’ve just been going through something.”

  “You don’t have to apologize. Nothing you say offends me.” He winked.<
br />
  I was relieved that Blake was letting me off the hook about the sandwich and being grumpy with him. He was the closest thing I had to a friend, and I didn’t want to blow it with him.

  I unlocked my apartment and stooped to pick up a business card and turned it over. I then tapped it with a fingernail. “Bernstein and Hughes were here. Lovely. I think I should take it as a threat,” I said as I handed Blake the card.

  “I’ll give them a quick call to straighten this out.”

  “The only think that will straighten this out is if I go with them to the laboratory.”

  “Hospital,” Blake clarified. “Not that it matters, because you’re not going anywhere with those two.”

  “At least not until we solve this case.”

  Blake turned my chin until I was searching his hazel eyes. “I’ll never let them take you. I promise. I don’t even know why they’re on your tail like they are,” he said as he released my chin.

  I struggled for words. Blake didn’t have a habit of touching me.

  “I wish I had never gone to the medical center. Dr. Drake poisoned them against me. I would have thought they’d back off after they realized I didn’t have a rash or wounds on my back.”

  “It’s hard to undo the news conference the doctor staged. Be glad that Bernstein and Hughes are the only ones on your case.”

  My hands trembled as I took a jug or orange juice out of my refrigerator and poured a glass. “You care for a glass?” I asked.

  “Only if you’re adding vodka.”

  “You’re working or going into work, didn’t you say?”

  “That was the plan, but I’d feel better if I stayed here today. Just to make certain those agents don’t show up. They know where you live.”

  “Do you really think they’d come here?”

  “I don’t think stalking you at the mall is all they’ve been doing.”

  “I don’t want to be a bother. Besides, I would like to speak to the psychics or the person who handles the tip line.” I cocked an eyebrow. “Unless you checked out the werewolf confession already.”

  “You know me better than that.”

  “We need to check out every avenue, even if one is a werewolf. Hey, it must mean something if he confessed.”

  Blake frowned. “Sorry, but I don’t buy it. I don’t believe in werewolves or the paranormal in general.”

  “What if you’re wrong?”

  “You’ll have to prove it.”

  “That sounds like a challenge,” I said as I carried my juice to the table and sat down. “So tell me all about questioning Bigfoot.”

  Blake slid into a chair opposite me. “His name is Earle Longjohn. I thought I already told you that.”

  “I like the name Bigfoot much better. It certainly describes him.”

  “It also pisses him off.”

  I took a sip of my juice. “Do tell.”

  “He managed to break two pairs of handcuffs. His wrists were too big, and it didn’t take much to snap the cuffs.”

  “That sounds like a challenge.”

  “It was, but Earle was very obliging and answered our questions. He was out of town when the murder occurred.”

  “That’s what they always say.”

  “Except this time it’s the truth. His boss and six of his co-workers verified his whereabouts for the time in question.”

  “The man is a beast. I bet his coworkers are too afraid of him to tell the truth.”

  “He was at the police station when I verified his alibi. He hardly had a chance to threaten them.”

  “Unless he did it beforehand.”

  “Why can’t you admit we have the wrong guy here?”

  “Because your psychics pointed the man out.”

  “You’d be doing me a favor if you met with them now. Unless there’s a reason you’re stalling, Alex. Are you worried they’ll be able to see into your future?”

  “I don’t believe in psychics either. I just think it would be interesting to hear what they have to say and why they believe Bigfoot was a likely suspect.”

  “I’ll walk you back to your car.”

  “But I didn’t get a chance to eat my sandwich,” I said as I grabbed my to-go bag and handed Blake half of my sandwich.

  Ten

  Wilma and Gracie Walfie lived in a doublewide about ten minutes outside Westland. I climbed the wooden stairs and stared at the neon sign that read ‘Get your reading today.’

  I was about to knock when the door whipped open, revealing a smiling woman with crazy red hair. She frowned. “You’re not Detective Blake,” she sighed.

  “He sent me here on his behalf. He’s busy questioning a suspect back at the station,” I explained.

  “Is that the handsome detective?” another woman asked from inside the trailer.

  The fragrance of tea tree oil floored me as the redhead opened the door wide enough for me to enter before closing it with whoosh.

  The other woman’s gray hair was pulled back into a severe bun. She picked at her long paisley dress and smiled nervously. “Who are you?”

  “Shouldn’t you know? You’re a psychic.”

  “It doesn’t work like that, girl.” She picked up a half-finished blanket from a basket and proceeded to knit. “I’m Wilma, and my sister Gracie is the one who answered the door.”

  Gracie hovered behind me. When I turned, she motioned to a chair that I plopped down on. How much should I tell them? “I’m Alex. I’m a private detective and I’ve been investigating the recent murder.”

  “And Detective Blake is allowing this?” Gracie asked as she fanned her face.

  “We’re old friends.”

  “Former lovers?”

  “Gracie, that’s none of our business -- unless she’d like to get it off her chest. In our business that’s how it typically works. Clients have questions and we do our best to find answers for them.”

  I smiled. “As I said, we’re old friends, and that’s about it. He’s also a bit of a skeptic, I must say.”

  “Not against us psychics surely,” Wilma said.

  “We did have to call him numerous times before he took us seriously, sister,” Gracie said.

  “I can’t say he’s taking you ladies seriously. Blake told me he had an appointment with you, but you were a no-show.”

  “Gracie, I can’t believe you’d forget to tell me something as important as having an appointment with that handsome detective.” Wilma shook her head. “This certainly won’t help him believe in psychics.”

  “He followed one of your tips at Naughty Divas. I staked out the place with him.”

  Wilma’s face brightened at that and said, “I’m happy to hear that. Were you able to find Bigfoot?”

  “Yes, I mean we found a man who resembled Bigfoot, but his name is Earle Longjohn.”

  “And did the detective haul him into the station?”

  “Eventually, but he has an alibi so he can’t be the killer.”

  Gracie’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my. We were so certain.”

  “What made you believe Bigfoot was the killer?”

  “Well, he is a beast of a man, and Andy was so certain he looked large enough to rip a man in two.”

  I rubbed my aching shoulder. “Who’s Andy?”

  “He, or I should say she, was in the show last night. Her stage name is Andromeda. Tall blonde who resembles Marilyn Monroe.”

  “She’s quite popular,” Wilma offered. “You must have seen her there last night.”

  “I should have paid more attention. But we were there to question Bigfoot. As it turns out, he doesn’t appreciate being called that,” I said. “I knew it would be hard to question him about the murder. He’s hardly the sort that you can just start asking questions, but he bought a one-way ticket to lockup when he assaulted Blake.”

  “I hope the handsome detective is all right,” Gracie worried her lower lip with her teeth.

  “He’s back at it today and I’m hoping he lets me know his n
ext move. It should be a little easier for me to question suspects. People tend to get close-lipped whenever a cop starts questioning them.”

  “I imagine that’s true, but you’re such a petite girl. If you go up against a suspect you might get hurt.”

  “Don’t worry about me. Do you have any other tips you can pass my way? Blake will be so happy to know how much of a help you’ve both been.”

  Gracie nodded her head. “Anything to make Detective Blake happy.”

  “My sister is right. We’re happy to help.”

  “You have an idea who our killer is?” I asked.

  “Someone dreadful.”

  “So no psychic intelligence?”

  “We have visions oftentimes, but our minds have been blank since Tuesday. Something is blocking our visions,” Wilma said.

  “You mean someone,” I offered.

  “No, I meant something. It’s certainly not a mortal. I can assure you of that.”

  “Blake said you mentioned something about paranormal activity.”

  “Oh, of course,” Gracie gushed. “The mountains have been a hub of paranormal activity of late.”

  It sounded strange, but I had to ask, “Have you had visions about the mountains?”

  “Yes,” Wilma admitted. “I believe the person who was murdered wasn’t totally human.”

  “He wasn’t?”

  “He was some sort of crossbreed. But of course you wouldn’t be able to know that if you met him.”

  I stared around the trailer, from the tapestries hanging on the walls to a darkened globe positioned on a table in the next room. Should I continue to question them or leave it alone? I’d hate for them to realize who I really was -- or what I’d become. I hoped whatever was blocking their visions would continue to do so.

  “What do you mean ‘crossbreed?’”

  Wilma grinned as she scooted closer. “There are many crossbreeds, although I shouldn’t call them that. There are mystical beings that need a human host to survive.”

 

‹ Prev