by Aaron Crash
“We need to find him,” Steven said. “Do you know where he is?”
“I do.” Liam gulped. He turned to gaze into the fire. “I can help you find him. But I can’t go with you. No, I can’t. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Steven said. “We can handle him.”
“It’s not okay,” Liam said in a choked voice. “And no, you can’t handle him because Old Matchstick can’t even handle himself.”
Chapter Twenty-One
THEY TALKED LATE INTO the night, and Liam told him everything he knew about Mathaal, otherwise known as Old Matchstick. He didn’t know much. And what he did know wasn’t good.
Steven listened carefully, trying to ignore the bad feeling steadily growing in his belly.
Old Matchstick was an ancient dragon. One who’d snapped. One who’d destroyed entire cities. The entire Dragonsoul community—Primes from every nation on Earth—had united to wipe the minds of humans. Their attempts to capture Old Matchstick had been frustrated by the ancient dragon’s knowledge of sorcery, especially portal magic, which was at the far end of the skill tree. It seemed he was part genocidal serial killer and part Alzheimer patient. He’d disappeared, but there were rumors that the more powerful Dragonsoul Primes knew where he was and kept him guarded.
Liam was among the number that knew of Mathaal’s location, though he seemed to regret that knowledge dearly.
Steven tried to convince Liam to join them, but the Ronin couldn’t be persuaded. “I’ve lived three hundred years. I know I shouldn’t fear death, but I do. And Mathaal? He is death. And he’s too mad to know better. He’s like a force of nature now—a being of utter destruction and chaos that cannot be reasoned with. Besides, I will have to work the portal magic to bring you back. I don’t dare leave a gate open, not in these uncertain times. And while I might be able to open a gate on the other side of the globe, I might not. Here, in the seat of my power, I am more comfortable. I believe you would call it a home-field advantage.”
When the talking and planning for the following day was finished, his crew went to bed, but not before Steven made love to Aria, restoring their spent Animus. The next day, they would need every bit of the mystical energy they could gather.
In the morning, Liam made them biscuits and gravy, insisting they need a calorie-rich meal before facing a threat they could not beat. A threat they would be lucky to survive.
Steven was tired of people telling him he was doomed in every fight. Aria had doubted him, then Mouse, and fucking Rhaegen Mulk kept underestimating Steven’s skills and the might of his Escort. He’d won each time before, and he’d find a way to win again, no matter what mythical shithead was standing in his way.
Liam led them out to the ruins of the fire, which he stoked to life, sending smoke skyward. Steven was looking forward to seeing an actual portal in action. Up until this point it had all been theory and stories. Not anymore.
“Are you ready?” Liam asked. He was pale, sweating even though the day was overcast and cold. Spring on the Great Plains—spin the dial, you might get hot and you might get snow, you never knew. The heavens swirled, as if disturbed by what the Ronin was about to do. “This is a simple portal, the only ones I can do. There are other spells that can summon people or create static gates. That is beyond me, however.”
Then he shouted, “Magica Porta!”
“This is fucking awesome,” Tessa whispered, nearly quivering in raw anticipation and excitement. She’d imbued another dozen bullets with dragon-slaying magic. They were tucked away in her holsters. Every loop on her belt was filled with normal shells.
Mouse had the Slayer Blade on her back in a long leather sheath.
Aria didn’t need weapons. She was deadly all on her own.
Steven curled his hands into fists, ready to swing on anything that might come through the portal. Except ...
Nothing happened.
Liam sighed. “This magic is always so difficult. Let me try again. Magica Porta!”
He thrust his hands forward, eyes slightly out of focus as he breathed rhythmically. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. Slow and steady. The smoke from the fire spun around, a tornado of heat and ash. At first, the opening of the gate was only about a foot across. The scent of saltwater burst through. Steven saw night and an ocean in the smoke. The opening widened, a round circle two feet across, then three, then four. The smoke whipped around the portal, creating a crude frame.
Liam gritted his teeth, eyes now closed. Sweat dripped down his face. “Hurry. And remember what I told you to do. You will have two hours. I’ll open the gate again. But hurry. Dammit, hurry. It kills me to be sending you to your death.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, dickweed,” Mouse spat. She strutted forward like a total badass without a single care in the world and stepped through the gate. Steven was next. Then Tessa and Aria.
Steven walked down onto rocks jumbled together—just a clump of rocks entirely surrounded by ocean. Where the hell were they, and more importantly, where in the hell were they supposed to go? A sliver of doubt and worry wriggled in his stomach, but he immediately pushed his fear away. Now wasn’t the time for doubt or questions. Now was the time to own his legacy and prove those who doubted him wrong once again.
The gate vanished behind them, closing with an audible whoosh of displaced air.
The four stood on the rocks. The air was warm, humid, and filled with the odor of the ocean. Aria touched his arm. “There, Steven.”
In the distance, maybe half a mile away, across a calm stretch of ocean, was an island. It was a flat except jungle of palm trees, a dark stain against the starry sky. The stars, they were different here. He’d gotten used to various constellations, growing up in Denver, but this night sky was alien to him.
Tessa had her leather satchel slung over her shoulder. It held the grimoire and the topaz pen. She held her phone in her hand. “Hold on a minute, and I can tell you where we are. Not only do I have magic, but I also hold the power of GPS! Boom. Score one for science, bitches.”
They waited for her phone to connect to the satellite.
Mouse took out her own phone. “I’ll set a timer. We only have two hours, after all, and I don’t want to have to swim back to Nebraska.”
“Good idea,” Steven said.
Tessa frowned. “Do you guys know where the Maldives are?”
“In the Indian Ocean.” Aria tied her long black hair back in a ponytail. “We are actually off the coast of my country. Mumbai is that way.” She pointed to the horizon, where the black ocean met the milky light of the stars.
Tessa put away her phone. “Well, we could always make some cash selling tickets to anywhere in the world. That would make the airlines crazy.”
“And piss off every Dragonsoul on Earth.” Steven gazed at the island in the distance. That was where they needed to go. It was the only piece of land close other than the stretch of stone where they stood.
“I’ll take Tessa over there,” Mouse said in an annoyed voice. “Like always. You know humans. Wingless. What a literal drag.”
“Don’t bother, sweetie,” Tessa said good-naturedly. “Magica Defensio!” Her pink shield appeared in front of her and she stepped onto it. Then she drifted out across the water.
Steven grinned. He loved that barista turned Magician. He, Aria, and Mouse dropped their clothes. Mouse tossed the sheathed Slayer Blade up into the air and deftly slung it around her right dragon wrist when she took her True Form. Then they all flew off the rocks, heading toward the island. The jungle was dark, the trees obscured by a low-clinging ground fog. The white sands, however, reflected the light of the stars. There was no moon in sight—covered by a patch of drifting cloud cover.
They touched down on the beach.
Steven couldn’t believe he was on the other side of the globe. The very idea made him a little dizzy. He’d never left the United States. But there he was, on his first international trip, and without his passport to boot. Damn, but his life had
completely changed.
The island seemed to be uninhabited—at least by humans—which made a certain sense. If Old Matchstick was as crazy as Liam said, he’d have already eaten every person in a fifty-mile radius. But then, much to Steven’s surprise, a voice broke out from the fog cover. The words were rapid-fire and foreign, but Steven had watched enough anime to recognize the language as Japanese. It wasn’t a man’s voice, but that of a woman, and it sounded human enough.
“English, please,” Mouse barked. “It is the international language.”
“The linga franca,” Tessa murmured.
“Nice,” Steven said. Again, the barista surprised him.
The voice paused, then said in accented English, “This island is off-limits to you. Leave now or die.”
“Yeah, we’re not much for the death thing,” Tessa quipped, slipping a Colt from its holster with the rasp of metal on leather. She’d shifted her shield so it appeared in front of them.
“We’re only here to talk to Mathaal,” Steven said matter-of-factly. His tone said no nonsense would be tolerated—or at least that’s what he hoped his tone conveyed. “We don’t want any trouble. And we’re not leaving.”
“Then die!”
Green projectiles whirled out of the jungle. They hit Tessa’s shields in flashes of green mixed with pink. They plunked into the sand.
Steven bent and picked one up. They were Japanese throwing stars, a lot of them, at least several dozen. Had they all been flung by the same hand?
After the initial attack, there was silence. The water lapped lazily at the sand behind them.
“Well?” Steven said. “Maybe Tessa’s shield scared them away.”
“Yeah,” she agreed. “Because I’m so awesome.”
“Time is ticking away, people,” Mouse said. “Let’s get this show on the road.” She transformed into her Homo Draconis form so she’d fit through the trees.
“Hold up. Aria and I will run recon. We need to know what we’re up against and now big this island is.” Steven took a running step and launched himself into the air. He smashed into an invisible barrier over the tops of the palm trees. The whole island seemed to shake. Or was that him? Hard to tell. He’d hit it hard. He tumbled down into the sands.
Another projectile, this one long and slender, shot from the darkness of the tree cover. It struck his arm, stabbing through his scale. It was an arrow. First throwing stars, and now an arrow? What the hell?
More green shafts came flashing out. He was about to know how a pincushion felt when grandma got pissed when she sewed. It was Aria that saved him. She’d avoided the shield but then came storming from the sky to breathe fire onto the incoming attack.
The arrows turned to ash. Trees smoldered. Aria didn’t stop. The entire beach and the jungle blazed with a blinding light from her dragon fire.
Dozens of shapes moved, all human, all dressed in black. One word sliced through Steven’s brain. Ninjas.
He had to take a second to really understand that. Was he really seeing ninjas? Black, tight-fitting gis. Hooded masks. Swords, some long, some short, some a tad straighter than others. Steven also saw some of the dark shapes with bows; on the chests of others shined throwing stars. But one figure caught his attention.
She stood exposed in the firelight. Tall, slender, her hood was pulled back to reveal a face that was partially scaled. Half of her face to be precise. Long black hair flowed down across the beautiful human-half of her face. She wielded a kusarigama, a chain-sickle. A curved blade was attached to a chain that ended in a heavy weight. Originally, such weapons were used by medieval warriors to snare other soldiers. The warrior would entangle their foes in the chain, then hack them apart with the sickle. Her right hand gripping the sickle was human, but the claws gripping the chain was scaled.
Then Steven noticed, in that instant before Aria stopped using her Inferno Exhalant, that others were also not quite human. A man with a bow had a long tail trailing out behind him. Another warrior took to the air on wings that sprouted from the back of his robes. Others had slitted snake eyes. What kind of creatures were these? They didn’t seem to be full Dragonsouls. Could they be Dragonskins, humans that went through a torturous ritual to gain some of the powers of full dragons? It seemed so.
Then everything went dark. Which was home for ninjas, after all, however misshapen. Some of the undergrowth flickered with flames but it wasn’t enough to penetrate the stygian blackness of the jungle.
Steven knew they were about to be overwhelmed. And dammit, they needed to conserve their Animus to face Old Matchstick. Blowing their wad on a bunch of half-dragons was a bad idea. On top of that, they didn’t have much time. The clock was ticking.
There was something striking about the sickle-chain wielding woman. She just might be the key to getting them out of this mess.
He didn’t bother with trying to breathe fire. Instead, he burned through a fraction of his Animus, triggering his DarkArmor and SerpentGrace abilities. That was to balance his armor and his speed. He anticipated the incoming attacks and lashed out with his tail. He felt a satisfying crunch and a burst of Animus, which covered his combat boosts. A sword chunked into the scales on his back. It didn’t even hurt. That would be the winged warrior, coming in from above.
Tessa raced next to him and cried out, “Magica Defensio.” More Animus down the drain. But Tessa was smart. She poured the added magic into her existing shield, and a glowing pink rectangle appeared in front of her. Arrows clacked against the force field and fell harmlessly to the ground.
The double dose of Animus to the shield was giving them a rose-colored light to see by.
Mouse deftly tossed her sword into the air but grabbed it when she turned into her sleek Homo Draconis form. She waded into battle, but the blade was whipped out of her hand by the kusarigama chain.
She turned. Lightning exploded out of her mouth and fried an incoming ninja. The skeins of electricity added to Tessa’s pink light. The ninjas fell back at the onslaught.
The Dragonskins were momentarily distracted, and Steven exploited the opening. He charged forward, legs pumping, then leapt with a grunt, aiming at where the kusarigama’s chain disappeared into the foliage.
Bull’s-eye. He hit the Japanese woman like a freight train, and his weight and momentum drove her to the ground. She thrashed, frantically trying to free herself, and Steven lashed out with his fangs, hoping to put her down with one ferocious bite. But she caught his jaw, one hand gripping his upper lip and the other grasping his bottom. She must’ve been using a combination of DarkArmor and DragonStrength. She surged and hurled Steven away with a grunt of effort. Steven went smashing through the palm trees. Coconuts came tumbling down on top of him.
He gained his feet and whirled to meet her next attack. Her sickle-chain screamed through the air, on a crash course with Steven’s skull. Steven flicked out his tail and batted it aside. She sped across the ground, using SerpentGrace to close the distance between them. Well, two could play at that game
She slashed at him with the sickle, but he caught it on the thick scales on a forearm. Then she scampered up his own fucking body, leaping from his knee to his hip, then flipping over, attempting to land squarely on his back. The sickle gleamed a rose color in the light of Tessa’s shield.
Steven knew he couldn’t let her get on his back. If she landed there, she could use that sickle-chain to strangle him—it was certainly long enough to do the deed—or to cut his throat.
Too bad the half-dragon ninja hadn’t remembered he had a tail. He spun and swatted her out of the air. She slammed into the ground. Before she could get up and speed off again, restarting the cycle once more, he lunged and chomped down on the Japanese woman. Blood squirted across his mouth. Even though he wanted to bite her in half, he stopped himself. Instead, he bashed the squirming woman into the ground, let go of her, and then shifted into his half-dragon state. He put two claws to her throat.
“Call off your people,” he said, “or I wi
ll kill you.” For a moment she didn’t speak, so Steven squeezed down, his talons penetrating flesh and scale with ease, drawing blood. “I mean it. You’re nothing to me. I won’t shed a single tear over your corpse. Call them off. Now.” Another ounce of pressure.
She relented at last and barked out a harsh order in Japanese. Wings overhead fluttered away, and he heard the whisper of the shadow warriors falling back.
“We don’t have a fight with you,” Steven growled. “Let us pass. We have business with Old Matchstick.”
“If you call him that, he will kill you,” the woman snarled.
“Thanks, but I’m not here for advice.”
Aria and Mouse, both in their Homo Draconis forms, crowded around him. Tessa kept watch, her shield spell giving her light enough to see.
“I came here to find Mathaal, and nothing is going to stop me. Not even a bunch of asshole, black-clad ninjas.”
“You do not understand,” she rasped. His claws were still pressed deep into her throat. “I am Uchiko, of the Onari Guard. We were given the task of keeping everyone, human and Dragonsoul alike, away from Mathaal. We will not fail in this task as we have failed before. We will fight you every step of the way if we must.”
He sighed, but it came out as more of a snarl. “Then we’ll have no choice but to destroy you all.”
Uchiko spit blood, her eyes narrowed in determination. “You will try, but you can’t fly above the trees, not with the mystic barrier in place. Which means you will have to make your way in the darkness. And my assassins will take you out, one by one. It is our way. Our duty. But we have no wish to kill you if you do not force our hand. Turn back now and live, Dragonsoul.”
Steven had a million questions about the Onari Guard, what they were, why they had failed before, and why they were given the task of guarding the ancient insane dragon. However, he and his Escort were under a time crunch.
“Just kill her,” Aria said. “You will take the Animus and we will have one less foe to face.”