Victoria Marmot- The Complete Series

by Virginia McClain

  Rhelia looked between the two of us with some-thing like exasperation before turning to the green-skinned elf now cradling her neck, and the poker-faced tauren standing next to her. If she’d been in her dragon form, I would have expected the two of them to be cinders in another heartbeat, but instead of fire, she seared them with words.

  “Now that Soledad is no longer about to kill you, we have no more time for idle chatter. You will help us, or we will reveal your past to the Unterberg council as well as the Elder Dragons. I don’t have to remind you what that will do to your lives as you know them. You will lead us to the missing dragons right now, or you will die horribly by the hands of those who owe you justice.”

  THE ROOM THAT we stood in was dimly lit and heavily warded—at least, that’s what I assumed was making it feel like a contained thunderstorm was right on top of our heads even though the circular space was entirely indoors, and not large enough to contain any actual weather events. That didn’t stop the air from smelling like salt and ozone.

  As I took in the flickering torches that lit the dark stone walls, I mused at how my actual magical knowledge was severely limited, but the fact that I’d read a lot of fantasy books and played a fair few role playing games somehow had trained my brain to interpret the feeling as indicating the presence of wards. I’d made a few gut decisions based on my fictional expertise in the last few weeks, and so far they’d all paid off. So much so that I was starting think that all of the nights I’d stayed up playing WoW or reading fantasy books instead of doing homework weren’t the waste I had originally suspected them of being.

  Anyway, aside from a giant salt circle etched out around the room, encompassing all of us standing within it, and the intense non-weather-related pressure that filled the space, this room could have easily been someone’s sunroom. That is, it could have if any of the walls had been windows instead of heavy-looking, unpolished black marble. As it was, it felt more like a tomb.

  Five of us stood on the points of a star while Nethia stood in the center of the whole thing. Rhelia stood at the top point, facing the center, and I stood to her right, while Sol stood to her left and Seamus stood to my right, with Torrence standing to his left on the final point of the star. It was extremely tempting to ask Sol to switch to her panther form so I could start making Sabrina jokes, but I restrained myself. Barely.

  The urge to break the tension that had been mounting since we’d left Nethia’s apartment in Unterberg was strong, bad jokes aside. After Rhelia had made it clear that Nethia and Torrence had no choice but to help us, Nethia had said little beyond explaining that if we wanted their help she would need to conduct a blood ritual (whatever that meant) in whichever realm we suspected the missing weredragons were being held. Which had meant a really awkward trip through the shadowed streets of Unterberg as we made our way to a seam that led to Earth, and then another stomach-churning teleport thanks to Torrence. This time, Seamus threw up. Sol probably had nothing left, and I had decided that I was just going to accept that multiple “me”s needed to make it through the trip and try to relax into it. Weirdly, that seemed to have worked, and I didn’t feel nearly as sick this time as I had the trip before. I didn’t bother to question why my own method of shifting through time and space didn’t seem to make anyone sick, but filed it away to ponder another day.

  Meanwhile, once we’d all finished being ill, or barely ill, or barely not ill, depending on who we were talking about, Nethia led us deeper and deeper into what appeared to be a subterranean lair, judging by the earthy smell, the lack of natural light, and the stagnant air that filled the passageways. Torrence had teleported us directly in-side the wherever we were, so we had no points of reference for where we might be in the world, which I guessed was on purpose.

  Certainly, if I’d had Rhelia glaring at me with the degree of hatred she was leveling at Torrence and Nethia right now, I wouldn’t want her to be able to find me later either.

  “So, if you despise Dragon Hunters so much, why are we here?” I had whispered to her, as we’d all filed down a long earthen corridor behind Nethia and Torrence.

  “These people slaughtered my people in droves, for centuries, allegedly in service to MOME’s crusade against us, but in reality simply for the coin they were paid. They were mercenaries who took hundreds of missions against any creature too difficult for MOME’s own elite squads, but they specialized in destroying us at any cost. I would as soon wipe them from the face of the realms as work with them.”

  I stared at Rhelia, wondering if she even realized that she hadn’t answered my question, or that she was still speaking without her sibilant accent.

  Then she turned to me and sighed.

  “But there will be no realms left, if we do not find my brethren quickly. We have used every trick that we can think of, and none have worked. My people like to pretend that the Dragon Hunters are as much a myth as most believe them to be. It is better for us if no one believes they exist, but we know better. They found us, unerringly, whenever we wandered outside of our own realm during the Dragon Genocide. If anyone can find Siara and the others, the Dragon Hunters can.”

  After a moment of silence, I finally asked a question—the question that was ringing loudest in my brain.

  “Ok. I have a feeling this was mentioned in my dragon orientation, but… what was the Dragon Genocide, exactly?”

  Rhelia stopped to stare at me for a moment be-fore resuming her stride and pulling me along with her through the stone corridor.

  “It was MOME’s attempt to kill us all. They claimed it was because we were too dangerous, too difficult to hide from the non-magical humans. But really, it was just that they were frightened of us.”

  “So they tried to wipe you all out? If they were afraid of you, why would they do something likely to start a war with you?”

  “That was precisely it. They could not risk a war with us. We are too powerful for a full-scale assault. Instead they sent assassins after us, and only when we left the safety of our own realm. We did not know who was responsible, at first. We were not even sure the attacks were connected, for a long time.

  “But later, centuries after it began, we captured some MOME operatives who knew what was going on, and discovered the truth. The cowards never even came after us themselves, merely spread anti-dragon propaganda—attempting to set the rest of the magical world against us—and then sent Dragon Hunters after us whenever we stood in any realm but our own.”

  The way her mouth had formed the words “Dragon Hunters” made it look like she was about to be ill, but she clearly held a grudging respect for their ability to track down dragons. And I had to agree with the reasoning that had brought us here. We were out of time and options. If there was a shortcut to finding Siara, we had to take it, even if it was risky as hell and involved a centuries-old enemy.

  Which is why we had all blithely followed two people we barely knew into the bowels of Gwen-knew-where, so that we could trust one of them with something called a blood ritual that was supposed to tell us exactly where the weredragons that shared Rhelia’s blood were being held.

  From the looks on everyone’s faces when Nethia had said there would be a blood ritual, that shit was a big magical no-no. No one had explained why yet, so I just filed it away with the three thousand and one other things I didn’t understand, but would have to ask about later when we weren’t fighting the clock.

  And here we were.

  I looked around the circle again, and vaguely wondered what we would have done if Seamus hadn’t been here. Did we have to have a person on each of the five points of the star, along with some-one in the middle, or could Nethia have completed the spell from one of the points? Did any of us need to be there besides Nethia and Rhelia? Or would this whole thing be impossible if Seamus hadn’t shown up? I fought off the shudder that precognition triggered in me, because Seamus couldn’t help seeing the future, and everything he’d told me about it so far made me think he hated it.

  When
I heard the sound of metal singing through air, my head whipped up just in time to see Seamus leap in front of a blade that had clearly been heading directly for Torrence. I almost screamed, as I thought it had hit Seamus in the center of his chest, but he’d leapt with his arms crossed in front of him, and I was suddenly, desperately glad for his abilities as a seer. Nethia was already pinned under the giant panther that was Soledad, and Rhelia had drawn two daggers from somewhere, placing one at Nethia’s throat, somewhat redundantly. I didn’t really notice how any of that had happened, be-cause my body was too busy moving me to Seamus’ side.

  The dagger that Nethia had thrown had impaled his forearm, and it looked like it had pinned it to his chest, but not deeply enough to pierce any vital organs, I thought.

  “Rhelia, we’re going to need you over here,” I said, noting the unnatural pallor of Seamus’ face. It was a serious wound no matter what, but I didn’t like the sweat that was beading on his forehead already.

  There were sounds of movement behind me, but I couldn’t tell what was going on, and didn’t turn to find out.

  “Seamus?” I asked, as his eyes started to close. “Seamus!”

  “Allow me to help, Victoria,” said Torrence.

  “Why would I trust you to help? Your friend just tried to kill him!”

  “She was trying to kill me, I believe.”

  Right. Seamus had been jumping in front of Torrence to save his life. Why would he do that?

  “Seamus? Why?” I asked, not letting him go.

  “I have some healing ability, Victoria, and I believe Nethia’s daggers are poisoned. Seconds matter.”

  “Rhelia!” I shouted. Rhelia was supposed to be one of the best healers in all the realms, and I would be damned if I let a Dragon Hunter “heal” my friend/boyfriend, whatever Seamus was.

  There were more sounds behind me, grunts and thuds, and metal scraping stone.

  “Living Cat, let the cow heal him. He is bound by blood,” she called, her voice not getting any closer.

  I looked at Seamus’ face, tight with pain, and then leveled my gaze at Torrence, who, I was surprised to see, was looking at Seamus with tears in his eyes.

  “If he dies, Torrence, I swear to everything that I hold dear, I will make you wish it had been you instead,” I hissed, before letting go of Seamus gently and allowing Torrence to collect him in his arms from his place on the floor behind him.

  “Believe me, Victoria, I already wish that it had been.”

  LUCKILY, TORRENCE WAS not trying to kill Seamus. Indeed, in a few short minutes, Seamus was no longer sweating, overly pale, or bleeding. By then Rhelia was approaching and I finally looked over at what she and Sol had been up to, which apparently was trussing Nethia up like a holiday hog, even though she appeared to be unconscious.

  “Is she dead?” I asked, glancing at her still form again.

  “I am not certain,” said Rhelia. “But we did not kill her, if that is what you are asking.”

  I looked at Rhelia, then over to Sol, who was also coming over to check on Seamus.

  I pulled farther away to make space for Rhelia. I hoped she would confer with Torrence about Seamus’ healing.

  “How can you not be sure if she’s dead?” I asked Sol, since Rhelia was busy.

  Sol looked over at Nethia and frowned.

  “I don’t know. Before I could reach her she collapsed and her eyes rolled into the back of her head. I think she still has a pulse, but… it’s not strong.”

  To my surprise, it was Torrence who spoke next. He stood up from where he’d been tending Seamus, leaving him in Rhelia’s care to come stand beside us and look at the green-skinned woman who’d just tried to kill him.

  “It is the oath,” he said, after a moment. “She was likely trying to kill me so that she would be free of it. She swore on both of our blood, and the only way to be free of an oath like that is for one of us to die. However, when Seamus jumped in front of the blade, she broke her word instead, so the blood oath took her. There may not be anything left of her now.”

  “Fuck,” I muttered, looking at Nethia again. “What about the spell she was going to cast?”

  Torrence took a deep breath.

  “I can cast it, though it will not be as strong.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  “It should serve us well enough, but it won’t last very long or be portable. If Nethia had cast it, we could have tied it to an object, a weapon, a jewel, whatever you like, and it could have led any of you on your search. The version I know… well, I cannot tie it to anything but myself. I’m afraid you’ll be stuck with me until you find your weredragons.”

  “Considering the fact that we have less than 40 hours to find them, I think I can live with that.”

  I looked over to Rhelia, assuming that she was going to be less than pleased at this turn of events, but she was too caught up in whatever she was doing to Seamus to have noticed. Either that, or she didn’t care.

  Not having anything else to do, I looked around the room, and my eyes inevitably fell to where Nethia lay at Sol’s feet once more.

  “Not that I’m objecting or anything, but… if Nethia is as good as dead, why did you bother to truss her up like that?” I asked.

  I almost jumped when Rhelia’s ice-cold voice replied, “So that she can pay for her crimes against the Dragon Realm.”

  When I turned to look at her, she was standing, supporting a groggy but mostly-conscious Seamus, and faint wisps of smoke were twining up from her mouth.

  UNFORTUNATELY, RHELIA’S RAGE was go-ing to have to wait a hot minute, because we had to start the whole damned spell-casting thing over again.

  “What does the pentagram actually do?” I asked, as we scattered salt in the same pattern on the black marble floor that it had formed just before Nethia caused a scene by trying to kill people.

  There was a moment of silence before I looked pointedly at Torrence and he answered.

  “Sorry, I did not think you were asking me. I am not generally the magic casting expert in any given crowd. I forgot that you are all shifters. As you’ve no doubt guessed, a pentagram is not required for mages to access their magic.”

  I snorted at that, since, yeah… not a single person of the magical persuasion who had tried to kill me in the past few weeks had bothered to draw any-thing on the ground in salt first.

  “But,” continued Torrence patiently, “the magic that Dragon Hunters use for tracking is… despised. It is also easily noticed, and tracked, if it is cast out in the open. Hence, we are here in a heavily warded chamber, and casting it in the middle of a pentagram. Blood magic and demon summoning are the primary reasons you would use a pentagram. Otherwise, they can help if you are afraid of harming those around you with unwieldy magic. They act as containment for spell work.”

  “So, beginners, blood mages, and warlocks, got it.”

  Torrence looked up from where he was pouring salt onto the floor and raised a bovine brow.

  “Indeed, that sums it up nicely.”

  “Warlocks?” asked Seamus from where he was leaning up against the wall.

  “Anyone who summons demons for magical pur-poses,” Sol clarified.

  “Why else would someone summon a demon?” Seamus asked.

  “Well, now that I’ve met Azrael, I could think of a couple reasons,” I muttered.

  Sol chuckled, and Seamus’ cheeks reddened.

  “For anyone with their own dark matter, sex with a succubus would still qualify as magical purposes. It amplifies power,” Torrence explained. “Now, if a non-magical person summoned a demon in order to have sex, that might qualify as non-magical purposes.”

  “How would a non-magical person summon a demon?” Seamus and I asked, at the same time.

  “You only need a demon’s name to summon them,” Torrence replied mildly, as he finished the circle on the floor. “Keeping the demon from killing you for interrupting its nap, on the other hand, might require a fair amount of magic.
Succubi are often the exception to that rule, if you’re polite in your requests, since they benefit from being invited to feed.”

  Then Torrence took a deep breath and turned towards Rhelia, who had been staring broodingly at Nethia’s unconscious form, where it lay on the floor outside of our newly recast circle.

  “I’m ready to begin, if you are,” he said.

  Rhelia shook her head, as if clearing her thoughts, and turned towards Torrence. Her golden eyes still burned with something like hatred, but whether it was for Nethia, for Torrence, or for what she was about to do, I wasn’t sure. Perhaps all of the above.

  “Assss ready assss I’ll ever be.”

  I wondered what it meant that her sibilant accent was back.

  “I will do my best to make it painless,” Torrence said, stretching out his fur-covered, but otherwise human-looking hand.

  “You know it issss not the pain that botherssss me, Hunter,” she replied.

  The way she said “Hunter” made it sound like the basest insult, but Torrence didn’t even flinch. I was having a very difficult time sorting out what made him tick.

  As he took Rhelia’s hand. though, I heard him offer the barest explanation.

  “I have not performed this ritual for centuries. I abandoned my position in the Hunters when I finally realized that, despite all of MOME’s propaganda, your people were as innocent as any other, and more so than many. It does not excuse what I’ve done, and I will willingly go with you to face the punishment of the Dragon Elders once we have found those you seek, but I wish you to know that I do not lightly take on the burden of blood magic once more.”

  And then he slashed open her palm with a dagger.

  Rhelia had clearly been expecting it, even if I hadn’t, and barely winced at the pain.

  To my surprise, she also did not stab him repeatedly or take on her dragon form and incinerate his head, which was kind of what her facial expressions had been telegraphing ever since I’d woken her up on Nethia’s couch.

  Before I could even come up with something to say (sorry, you’re bleeding, do you need a bandage or anything?) Torrence cut an identical slash into his own palm. Then, slightly more hygienically than I’d expected, given how this whole thing had started, he gently tipped Rhelia’s palm until the blood that had been pooling there ran into the open wound in his hand.