by Tanith Frost
“Imogen said there was trouble here. You and I had an agreement.” He shrugs. “Besides, these humans are now my allies, too.”
I raise an eyebrow at him.
“Not in the same way you are… or were.” His gaze lingers briefly on my body before he glances back at the car. “They are weak creatures, but useful, and occasionally amusing. It would have been unwise to allow them to come back here to face your kind without protection.”
“I appreciate you coming. Really. But that does mean you’re going to have to get in the car.”
He scowls. “I know.”
“I’m concerned about your ability to behave yourself. If I let you sit in the front seat, can you hold off on the silent threats and posturing for a little while?”
He glances back over his shoulder at the car, plumes of foggy breath rising from his nostrils. “I can.”
“Good.” I turn to head back to the car.
“That does not mean I want to,” he mumbles.
I spin to face him again. “Daniel is on our team. He’s not like the vampires that hurt you.”
“He feels like them. Especially when he fights.” Taggryn rubs his hands over his arms—the cold must be getting to him. “Their power is cold. Only yours is warmed.”
“Sure. But that’s not what made me help you. Or what made me want you to stick around. Or what made me sad when you left.”
One thick eyebrow twitches upward. “You mourned the loss?”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “I don’t know whether mourned is the word, but yes. I was glad you did as we agreed and went back to your world when trouble came, but I worried about what might happen to you there. And you have proven to be a fine ally.”
He grins. “You missed me.”
I grin back at him. “Who wouldn’t miss having a fearsome and terrible dragon around? My point is that it isn’t my altered power that made me do the things I did. If you don’t believe me about anything else, at least listen when I tell you that Daniel is as practical as any vampire. He’s not going to be a threat to you if you’re helping us. But things would be a lot more pleasant if you could stop acting like an asshole. Quite frankly, it makes you look insecure.”
Taggryn’s chest puffs up. “A dragon is never—”
“I know. I know. I’m just saying maybe quiet confidence would serve you better than suspicious glares and staring contests. Things that work in dragon form might not work as well in this one. Make sense?”
“I will consider it.” He pauses, then, “Aviva?”
It’s rare that I hear my name spoken in his rumbling, slightly inhuman voice. I shiver. “Yeah?”
“This Daniel… is he your mate?”
It takes me a few seconds to come up with an answer. “The closest thing vampires have to that, I guess. Does that bother you?”
He snorts. “If you are implying that I might be in some way jealous or threatened, I am insulted. Dragons do not form such relationships. I am simply confused as to why a creature like yourself would make such a decision.”
I pat him on the arm. “It’s a long story, and one I think might make you respect me less, so I’m not going to tell it. Come on. Let’s get in the car before you freeze. Just… be nice, okay? I bet you could find common ground with Daniel if you got to know him a little better.”
Taggryn slumps in the front seat—the only way he can really fit comfortably—and turns to Daniel as I’m settling in the back. “I had her,” he says, and nods over his shoulder at me. Not as if he’s bragging, though. I think he’s making conversation.
Daniel puts the car in drive and pulls forward. “You’re certainly a lucky dragon.”
Taggryn grunts. “Your ways are strange. Humanlike matings, I mean. When I put my—”
“No,” I say, leaning forward as if I can somehow block the conversation. “Not appropriate here.” I glance at Daniel, who’s got one fist pressed against his lips and is doing a terrible job of hiding how amusing he finds all of this. “Not anywhere. Ever.”
Taggryn twists around in his seat. He’s already looking a little pale—he’s never been a fan of car rides. “This is something he and I have in common. I am making peace.”
I can feel Imogen shaking beside me, holding back laughter.
“Maybe we could find something else,” Daniel suggests.
Taggryn frowns. “Consumption of human fluid and flesh?”
“No,” Imogen and Odette say almost in unison.
“There is the immediate issue we’re all facing,” Odette says. “Daniel, did I hear you say zombie when you were on the phone?”
“They taste terrible,” Taggryn offers as though this might be news anyone else in the car might need.
Daniel and I fill them in as quickly as we can on the way back into Twillingate, sharing anything that might help them come up with ways to assist our efforts.
“Zombies,” Imogen whispers as we pull into the parking lot of a fried chicken restaurant.
“Not exactly, I suppose,” Daniel says. “Not like what you’d expect, anyway. They’re dead humans with violent tendencies and little conscious brain activity. But we have no reason to think it’s contagious.”
“So it’s just the dozens of them that have been delivered to the island, then,” Imogen says flatly. “No pandemic. Fantastic news.”
Daniel hands Odette a handful of cash, and she heads in to order their food. Daniel steps out to make another call, this time to find somewhere for our guests to stay.
“So what is it you need?” Imogen asks.
Taggryn turns around. I hate to admit weakness in front of him, but this might be all the privacy Imogen and I are going to get.
“Magic is making me… ineffective.” I’m in the middle of explaining what I’ve figured out—how it makes me hyperalert, which can help stave off my natural vampire grogginess during the day, but translates to fear, panic, even sheer terror otherwise—when Daniel opens the door and reaches in. I hand him my credit card, and he leaves us again. “Exposure seems to help, but when it gets too strong, it’s beyond distracting. I can’t think straight, it feels like I’m actually losing my mind. And I can’t control it even though I know it’s not real.”
“But it is,” Imogen says softly. “It’s not rational, but it’s real.”
I want to object, but she’s right. There’s no threat that’s causing the feelings, but they exist. They affect me. And there is a reason for them. “I’m wondering whether you could curse the connection somehow,” I say. “Let it go back to being just another power I feel outside of myself?”
She looks down at her hands and frowns.
“I’m not asking for an advantage, here,” I add. “I just want to level the playing field so I can be at my best.”
“No, I know. I’m just thinking.” She turns back to me. “I’ll want to consult with Odette. I’ve learned a lot from her already, but I still feel more confident when I get her feedback.”
“I guess that’s fine.”
Her eyes light up, the ideas clearly already spinning through her mind. “If this connection is a permanent thing, I might not be able to sever it without hurting you. But if I tried something long-term, like what Odette did for your enemy…”
Daniel gets back in the car. “Two rooms, pet-friendly, non-smoking. Ocean view.”
Imogen leans over to shove the door open for Odette, who’s carrying two big paper bags in her arms. The aroma of chicken fat and spices fills the car, and it’s enough to make me wish I could taste some.
“Hotel or rift?” Daniel asks.
Taggryn’s stomach groans again. “Which is closer?”
“No,” Imogen says. “I’m sure the hotel is closer, but we should go back to collect our stuff. We can eat at the campsite, then check in at the hotel. If that’s okay with everyone?”
No one complains, and Daniel heads back toward the rift, this time parking up a service road that gets us closer to the rift and keeps us out of sight. Taggryn�
��s got his meal picked down to the bones before we’ve parked, and Imogen has been sneaking taters from the bag the whole drive.
A threatening growl greets us as Imogen opens the heavy flaps of the canvas tent, which was invisible until we stepped into the small circle of light coming from within. “Shhh, Rory. It’s just me.”
The blotchy-faced black-and-white cat displays his rough past with scars and attitude—the first time I let him into the diner I thought he was a stray looking for a warm place to rest, and I’ve gotten the impression from Imogen that he might have been just that when he came into her life. He may be tough, but he seems to instinctively mistrust vampires. His back arches as he sees us, and his tail puffs up like a bottlebrush, but to his credit, he sidesteps toward Imogen instead of hiding in a corner, as though he might somehow scare us away from his human.
“We’ll just wait outside,” I tell him—or rather, I tell Imogen, but I’m still looking at the cat.
“Think she’ll help you?” Daniel asks as we step into the darkness, heading away from the rift.
“You were eavesdropping?”
“I heard enough.”
I brush the snow off a boulder and motion for him to join me on it. “Think it’s a good idea?”
He sits, and I lean my shoulder against his. “You know her better than I do,” he says. “I’m not going to tell you it isn’t worth a try after what she did for Miranda, though I can’t say I’d be entirely comfortable with it, myself.”
“That’s why we kept it a secret from Miranda when we were first testing the idea.” I look up between the treetops. The clouds are thinning, and a few bright stars shine against the darkness. “I hate that I have to deal with this at all. Things were so different with fire. It was a part of me from the moment Silas died—all I had to do was accept it for it to become a good thing.”
“If a dangerous one,” Daniel adds.
“Only because of how others see it. But this… I tried to accept it, and that might be how I survived it at all. But it’s not a good thing even if I’ve used it for good.” The words are coming fast, tumbling out of my mouth, driven by the nervous energy that fills me even at this distance from the rift. “And with fire, it was my own fault. I didn’t know what the consequences would be when I fed. I didn’t know he would die, but I chose to take it into myself. This? This was an accident. An injury that should have been nothing, but it changed everything.”
“It is unfortunate,” Daniel says after a few moments. His guard’s down, his attention focused on our conversation, and I catch the slightest hint of the British accent he must have carried through life. I don’t know whether it’s those smooth tones or his unthinking vulnerability that does it, but I feel calmer than I did before he spoke. “Though perhaps not entirely surprising, given your approach to things.”
I bristle at the implied criticism. “Because I’m careless? Reckless? I didn’t ask for this.”
“No. What I mean is that I’ve known you for as long as you’ve been a vampire, and I’ve observed things. You’re not reckless or careless despite how it might appear at times. If anything, I suspect you overthink decisions.”
I draw my knees up close to my chest, feet braced on the rock. “Flattering, thank you.”
He smiles. “But when the time comes, you do what needs to be done. And whether it’s because of your experiences since your death or simply because of the sort of vampire you are, you’re willing to put yourself in situations no one could possibly be prepared for.”
“You wouldn’t have ended up with fire in you.”
“Of course not. I would have made a lot of decisions differently. But that doesn’t mean yours were wrong.” Daniel shifts himself around on the boulder, turning slightly to face me. “The choices you’ve made have shaped you into the vampire you are now, often in dramatic ways. I guess what I’m saying is that it would be either foolish or astoundingly arrogant to expect that you’d somehow be protected from negative consequences while benefitting from the positive.”
“So you’re saying shit happens?”
“In a sense. But I’m also saying that you have a way of taking shit and turning it into something valuable that few others would have considered. And I think that if that outcome is impossible, you’ll find ways to overcome the shit that’s holding you back.” He looks away. “It’s one of the things I admire about you. It’s easy to worry about the danger you so often find yourself in, but I have faith you’ll always find a way out. So do what you feel you need to now. I just hope you don’t feel you have to hide your struggles from me.”
I can’t help laughing. “Gee, where would I have picked up the message that I need to do anything like that?”
I expect one of his disapproving looks, the ones that still give me shivers even though he’s not my trainer anymore. Instead, he leans in and brushes his lips against mine. “It was, is, and will remain good advice. It just doesn’t apply between us as far as I’m concerned.”
“That goes both ways,” I remind him.
He glances behind me, and a second later, I hear Imogen’s footsteps.
“Am I interrupting something?”
“No. You ready?” I stand and brush the dirt off the back of my pants.
She pulls a permanent marker from her back pocket. “It’s almost dead, but it should be enough to let me play a little.”
“Good luck,” Daniel says as we walk away. He jogs to catch up but heads toward the tent rather than the rift. The grin he flashes when he turns back makes my knees a little weak, but only until he speaks again. “I think I’ll get to know that dragon a little better. Seems like a charming fellow. And we do have so much in common.”
At least one of us finds this amusing.
I let Imogen lead the way toward the rift though I could find it myself if I wanted to. Power that could be vague and hard to place before my close encounter with Taggryn’s blood now flows over me in a current I can feel more strongly when I move toward its source. It would be thrilling if I could appreciate its strange beauty without feeling as if someone were crushing my heart into jelly. I’m not going to scream, but there’s one caught in my throat. I’m getting dizzy.
“Are we close enough?” I ask when I can find my voice. “It never felt like this at the other rift.”
“Yeah, sure. We did make this one a bit larger. Guess we should see about letting it collapse once we’re done here, eh?”
“My bosses would sure appreciate it.” My voice is shaking.
“Jeez. It’s really bad, eh?” Imogen uncaps her marker. “Let me try something.”
I push my sleeve up and offer my arm. Imogen cradles it gently in one hand and traces lines and figures in the air over my skin with the other, sketching ideas in her mind before she makes a mark. She frowns and shakes her head. “The problem is that I’m using magic to protect you from magic. I just have to be careful not to nullify my own work or make things worse for you.”
“But you can do it?”
She looks up, eyes shining. “Oh, I can do it. I just have to work a little harder for this one.”
It’s great to hear her so excited for the challenge. Fast would have been nice, though.
She mutters to herself, still tracing in the air, and I catch a “But” and a “What if…” before she finally presses the black felt tip of the marker to the inside of my forearm. “We can make it a little more permanent later,” she says. “I just have to get it worked out here where I have more magic to guide me.”
A gently curving line appears as she moves the marker toward my wrist, then pulls it around, crosses it over itself, and goes back up. Then she pauses to think before adding lines that don’t quite meet the first one, then fills in the gaps. It’s asymmetrical—not like the protective symbols I remember from Odette’s notebook, which seemed to follow repeating patterns. It’s simpler, too.
And it’s working. Even while she’s adding lines, I’m relaxing. The magic is still there, but it’s as if it’s
being drawn out of me, taking its ill effects with it.
I’m so relieved I want to cry. “You’re doing it.”
“Shh. You’ll lose the effect as soon as I stop if I don’t finish properly.”
I close my eyes so I can feel it better. My perception of magic remains changed—it still feels purple, not blue as it did when I first encountered it, though it would be hard for me to explain exactly why that is. But otherwise, it’s as it was when I was searching for the rift or feeling it in Taggryn. Electric. A bit nauseating when I focus on it. But that’s all. The screaming in my head has stopped. My shoulders relax, my chest loosens.
“And… there.” Imogen releases me, and when I open my eyes, she’s looking at me expectantly. “Well? What do you think?”
“I think you’re some kind of genius.”
I hold my arm out in front of me to look over the finished product. The central design reminds me of an abstract feather. Dots of ink, placed seemingly at random across my skin, feel like an aura of protective power.
“I know it’s big,” Imogen says when I don’t speak for a minute. “But the size is important, too. Like I said, if you want it somewhere else…”
“Hell, no. It’s gorgeous.”
She grins. “I thought so, myself. And it’s working?”
“Perfectly. I thought I might not be able to feel magic anymore at all.”
“No, that wasn’t my intention. It’s just supposed to reset you to what it was before you got stabbed. I didn’t figure having a blind spot would help you much.”
“Thank you. I owe you one. Again.”
Imogen caps her marker and slips it into the pocket of her borrowed coat. “Well, you are paying for the hotel. The next one will really cost you. Can we head back? I’m about froze to death here.”
Froze to death, not frozen. It’s easy to forget that Imogen was born and raised in Newfoundland until a local phrase slips out. The potential to use magic runs through her veins thanks to some ancestor from that other world, but this island is her home.
I hope we can save it for her.