Sinister Magic: An Urban Fantasy Dragon Series (Death Before Dragons Book 1)

by Lindsay Buroker

  “My neighbor Dan came to get my cat and take care of her, but that was after all this started.”

  “The demon cat? Do you like Dan or hate him?” I’d met Maggie the one time I’d visited earlier that year. She’d complained a lot about my presence. Actually, it had been Sindari that she’d objected most to.

  “Funny. Maggie is chatty, not demonic. And a sweetheart in bed at night. But no, nobody came by the apartment that I remember, at least not that I know of. You know I’m not there much except to sleep.” Her eyes widened. “Wait, there was one day that I came home and the door wasn’t locked. I always lock up, so I thought it was strange, but nothing was missing. I assumed I’d been distracted when I left that morning and had forgotten.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “Just a few days before I started having pain.” She rested her hand on her abdomen.

  “Mind if I go check it out?”

  “No. Dan has a key. He can let you in.”

  I tapped a key-shaped charm on my necklace. “I can unlock most doors.”

  “Protection from UV radiation and lock-picking? Is there anything your necklace can’t do?”

  Cure cancer, magical or otherwise, I thought glumly. “I’ve been collecting charms for almost twenty years. Some of these have saved my life numerous times.” My finger strayed to the cat figurine. Sindari had saved my life dozens of times all by himself.

  Willard’s nose wrinkled. “Just don’t let your oversized cat out in my apartment again, please. The scent he leaves makes Maggie crazy.”

  “Sindari doesn’t smell like a real cat. He’s magical.”

  “He smells like something. Maggie wouldn’t come out from under the bed for a week that time you stopped by to drop off evidence.”

  “I’ll keep your request in mind.” And ignore it. Since Sindari had a cat’s nose, I couldn’t imagine not bringing him out to help with an investigation. “You better enjoy your dinner.”

  “Enjoy, right.”

  I wasn’t sure if Willard’s scoff was because of the quality of the food or if she just wasn’t interested in eating because of her treatments. Thinking of all the masses on that scan, I realized I might not have much time to get to the bottom of this. Even if I found out that someone magical had poisoned her or hexed her or something, would there be a cure?

  The idea of losing her was bad enough, but I couldn’t also help but think of Lieutenant Snotty and what my life would be like if I had to report to an accountant for missions in the future. Would there even be missions? It sounded like he wanted to close down the department, not oversee it. If he did, what then? The citizens of the Pacific Northwest had to hope that a snooty dragon who had called humans a verminous infestation kept the murdering magical criminals in check?

  As I walked out, Willard was ignoring her food and pulling her small laptop off the side table. Judging by the determined expression on her face, she meant to do some research. I hoped she wouldn’t wear herself out obsessing over what I’d told her. And I hoped I would actually be able to do something to help.

  7

  Twilight fell, and the rain turned to a light mist that dampened my cheeks but didn’t soak through my clothing as I walked several blocks from where I found parking to Willard’s Roosevelt neighborhood apartment. Even though it was past rush hour, traffic was still a snarl. I watched a guy who was trying to parallel park a Hummer give up after crunching someone’s bumper, then cause a spate of honking as he rushed back to leave a note on the other vehicle’s windshield. Two smart cars that were only slightly larger than scooters zipped into the abandoned space.

  I watched the situation longer than I usually would have because I’d had a niggling sense, since stepping out of the government car, that I was being watched. Since I wasn’t a novice, I refrained from glancing over my shoulder repeatedly. I took a few steps down a quieter side street and pretended to check messages on my phone, while leaning against a brick wall and waiting to see if anyone suspicious rounded the corner.

  So far, I hadn’t seen anyone. It was just my instincts twanging my nerves. Considering how many times enemies had hunted me down in my life, those instincts were well honed.

  Had Lieutenant Sudo ordered someone to stalk me and steal back the keys to his car? I’d expected it to have been towed away while I was in the hospital, or at least to find a police officer leaning against it when I came out. Maybe Sudo had been too embarrassed to admit to his superiors that he’d let me drive off with it, and was handling the situation in an unconventional way.

  Later, I’d see if I could put the down payment on a new-used Jeep with the combat bonus money. The partial bonus money. Unfortunately, I still had a lot of payments left on the rig hanging in the branches on the Oregon coast. I had money in savings and various retirement plans, but I was always hesitant to dip into them, since I didn’t know how long I’d be able to continue the work I did.

  I lived as frugally as one could in a city where the average apartment rent was over two thousand dollars a month, but my work expenses added up. The year before, I’d paid nearly ten thousand dollars for the charm that had kept me from being charred into a s’more by that dragon’s fire. It had been worth it.

  Nobody came around the corner to look for me, so I put my phone away and continued on a less direct route toward Willard’s apartment.

  After another block, I paused to consider the acupuncture and massage services advertised on the window of an old house converted into a business. Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed someone in black pants and a black parka with the hood pulled up. When I scratched my jaw and looked that way casually but more directly, the person was gone. For a moment, I thought I sensed…

  No, there was nothing.

  After passing through the small parking lot behind Willard’s building—where numerous signs informed me that anyone without a permit would be towed while also thanking me and wishing me a nice day—I paused at the bottom of the exterior stairs. Nobody was nearby. I touched my feline charm and whispered for Sindari to join me.

  The familiar mist formed, and the tiger coalesced on the cracked pavement.

  It’s about time. Sindari swished his tail and looked straight at me. I’ve been wondering if you survived the dragon.

  I’m sorry. I should have brought you back right away to check on you, but I figured you had been injured and needed time to heal. As I’d learned in the past, the magic that linked Sindari to the figurine could only keep him in this world for a few hours at a time, and if he was wounded, he had to stay in his own realm longer to recuperate. Also, the hotel I stayed at in Portland didn’t allow pets.

  Pets! If tigers had eyebrows, his would have shot up higher than his ears.

  I’m sorry. Are you considered more of a service animal?

  I am Sindari Dargoth Chaser the Third, Son of the Chieftain Raul, Feared Stalker and Hunter of the Tangled Tundra Nation on Del’noth.

  So… not a service animal?

  An ambassador, if anything. Pet. His blue eyes squinted at me. I should gnaw off your foot for that.

  I thought you couldn’t eat anything in this realm.

  I wouldn’t eat it. I’d just leave it in that ditch over there for the carrion birds.

  You’re in quite the mood this evening. I decided not to ask if male tigers had anything equivalent to PMS.

  Because I feared you were dead. And that you died in the ocean where my figurine would never be recovered, meaning I could never travel from my native realm again.

  Again, I’m sorry. Next time, I’ll definitely recall you right away if you leave when I’m in danger of being mauled by a dragon.

  Good. Do.

  Is being the most regal son of a chieftain not as wonderful as it sounds? I asked as we headed up the stairs to the third floor. The rain was picking up, so I wanted to get under the covered walkway.

  It’s not horrible, but there are six older sons who can be twits. The hunting is lovely where I grew up though. Did
you know there’s an elf following us?

  I almost tripped on someone’s doormat and glanced back before I caught myself.

  She’s using stealth. You may not see her. Your senses aren’t as sublime as mine.

  I thought someone was following me. An elf? I made myself keep walking toward Willard’s door. Are you sure? I’ve never seen an elf, unless one counts the idealized painting of one my mother has over her fireplace. The painting was supposedly my father, but since I’d never met him, I had no idea how accurate it was. My mother had been obsessed after he left and had the largest collection of books, trinkets, scrolls, and maps related to elves that existed outside of a museum. And perhaps even inside most museums. They’re supposed to have all left Earth more than forty years ago.

  One has returned to stalk you.

  Why?

  You’d have to ask her.

  Will you help me capture her? If this was the same person I’d seen in the parka, she was fast and elusive.

  She’s already leaving. I think she knows that I can sense her. Sindari faced the rear parking lot, the alley I’d cut through to reach it, and roared. It sounded partially like a warning and partially a threat.

  “Shit, what was that?” someone who’d just driven into the lot yelled, sticking his head out the window and staring up at us.

  The lighting on the walkway hadn’t come on yet, and twilight and the mist made it hard to see details. Hopefully, he couldn’t tell Sindari wasn’t a large dog. I’d wandered around in public with him before, but not without attracting a lot of notice and having to awkwardly deflect questions. Someone had accused me of illegally breeding white tigers, even though Sindari was clearly and beautifully silver.

  “Just my service animal,” I called down. “He’s feeling frisky tonight.”

  Your foot is in so much danger. Sindari planted his large paw on top of it, but he did not proceed to gnaw it off.

  The man swore, rolled up his window, and didn’t get out of his car.

  You’re not here to scare people. I need you to help me find proof of magical tampering in Colonel Willard’s apartment. I summed up the details for him as I held my lock-picking charm with one hand and placed the other hand against her door. Dwarven made, the charm was for removing minor enchantments and traps from magical gates, but when I’d locked myself out of my apartment once and tried it on a whim, I’d learned it could remove impediments to mundane entrances too.

  Will the small feline be there?

  No, the neighbor is caring for it.

  Very good. Last time, it tried to pick a fight with me while hiding under the bed. The hissing and spitting and fur-raising was ridiculously melodramatic. It is not as if I would eat a fellow predator or the mushy gunk in her food dish.

  I don’t think Maggie liked you either. By the way, if you could refrain from leaving your scent all over the apartment, Colonel Willard would appreciate it.

  I wasn’t planning to lift my leg on the couch.

  Willard and I both appreciate that, but I just mean, you know, if you could refrain from shedding or shaking off. Leaving skin or fur or whatever would disturb the cat. I’m not supposed to bring you inside.

  Hmmph.

  The door opened. I paused in the threshold, flicking on the lights and waiting to see if anything plucked at my senses. The last time I’d been here, a hint of lemon and vinegar and natural cleaning detergents had hung in the air, but according to Willard, it had been a couple of weeks since she’d been home. A thin layer of dust marked the wood surfaces, and even though everything was tidy and put away, it definitely felt like nobody had been inside for a while. I wondered if we would truly find anything.

  After a single sniff, Sindari wandered in. I watched him, suspicious that he would leave some intimidating sign of his presence that would bother the house cat when she returned home, but he merely sat on the rug in the living area and looked around. The place was as I remembered. Various sports equipment hung on racks near the door, a bicycle dangled upside down from ceiling mounts in one corner, and martial-arts trophies shared space with books on a case behind the couch.

  Willard’s apartment wasn’t any larger than mine, so it should be easy to search. I wandered into the adjacent kitchen and dining room, the faded carpet clean but old. Willard would have had a house to herself if she’d lived on base, but I couldn’t blame her for not wanting to commute through Tacoma and Seattle every day going to and from Fort Lewis.

  Not sure what I was looking for, I poked into drawers and peered under the table and into cabinets. I found a pair of Garfield coffee mugs next to a fancy espresso maker and suspected the slippers hadn’t represented only the niece’s tastes. There were Flintstones pint glasses in a cabinet, and I found a cat dish with Smurfs on it. It seemed my no-nonsense boss had a fondness for the cartoons of her youth. I knew she’d been a drill sergeant before switching to the officer route, and amused myself by imagining her barking at privates rappelling down the Victory Tower while sipping from a Garfield mug.

  When I walked into the bedroom, I found Sindari with his tail up and his butt pressed against the comforter on the bed.

  “What are you doing?”

  Scratching an itch.

  “Are you scent-marking that duvet?”

  Absolutely not.

  “I don’t believe you. You’re leaving your scent all over the place to terrorize that poor cat, aren’t you?”

  Only in this place, and not to terrorize her, certainly. Only to inform her that a superior feline was here. I am an apex predator. It would be against my instincts to mask my scent.

  “I bet the dragon doesn’t do this.”

  We didn’t discuss how dragons mark their territory while he was chasing me across your ocean.

  I sighed. “Did you find anything suspicious in here?”

  I do not detect anything magical in here, but I have not completed my search. He lifted his nose and wandered out into the living room again.

  I found a bottle of odor-eliminating spray in a cabinet in the bathroom and liberally squirted the duvet. Did other service-animal owners deal with this?

  In here, Sindari called from the kitchen. And I know what you’re doing.

  Good. Keep your butt off things.

  I joined him in the kitchen as he pawed open the cabinet under the sink.

  Check that black cylinder attached to the sink, he told me.

  “The garbage disposal?” I leaned forward and looked into the drain dubiously. “There are blades in that thing, you know.”

  I sense something.

  “You sure it’s not in the trash can?” I poked through a bin hanging inside the cabinet door, the coffee grounds inside starting to grow fuzzy mold. Colonel Willard must not have expected to be admitted to the hospital when she’d left, or I was certain she would have taken out the garbage.

  It is in the cylinder.

  “Of course it is.” Reluctantly, I slid my hand past the plastic flaps and probed around the blades, trying not to imagine the disposal turning on of its own accord and cutting off my fingers. “What am I looking for?” There were more grimy, still-damp coffee grounds inside, and I grimaced.

  Something very faint.

  It must have been. I couldn’t sense anything magical. But my fingers brushed something that felt like a tiny vial, and triumph rushed through my veins.

  I pulled it out, brushing off coffee grounds, and started to reach for the faucet lever but paused. If something interesting had been in the container, I shouldn’t wash it.

  “Is this what you sense?” I grabbed a paper towel and wiped it but not vigorously.

  It was a vial of some kind, though the stopper was missing. Transparent and only two inches tall, with a narrow neck and a bulbous bottom, it had heft that suggested glass rather than plastic.

  Yes. Sindari gazed at it. As I said, it has a very faint magical signature. Less than what even the weakest of your charms gives off.

  “Coming from the vial itself or
some residue at the bottom?” I peered inside, but I couldn’t see a smudge or stain to hint at what it had contained.

  I can’t tell.

  “I wonder if Willard has any police friends that I could send this to. Maybe someone in forensics could scrape enough residue off the bottom to look at under a microscope.” Though I doubted magic would show up in a mundane crime lab.

  Besides, whoever had left the vial had probably washed it out. Otherwise, why leave a clue behind? Unless the person had been on the verge of being caught and had shoved it in the disposal, certain someone would use it and destroy the vial before ever seeing it…

  You should not let it out of your sight, since that’s your only clue. Do you not have police friends you could ask?

  “No. I don’t have many friends. I’m discussing this dearth with a therapist.” Not that I intended to go back.

  Perhaps it is because you mask their scents with offensive odors.

  “I’m positive that isn’t the reason.”

  Hm. We should— Sindari spun toward the door. The elf is back.

  He sprang into the living room. I will chase her down.

  But before he reached the door, something clattered onto the outdoor walkway.

  Danger! Sindari shouted into my mind.

  Before I could do more than shove the vial in a pocket, an explosion roared, white light flashing as the windows facing the walkway blew into a thousand pieces. Glass flew everywhere, all the way to the kitchen where it pelted the side of my face even as I whirled away. Cracks and snaps echoed, and the living room wall collapsed. Flames roared to life, creating an orange wall of fire along the walkway.

  Instinct told me to go out the kitchen window and get far away from the building, but there might be neighbors in danger—including the man caring for Willard’s cat.

  Get the elf, I ordered Sindari and sprinted into the fire.

  He sprang from the third-floor walkway and raced across the parking lot.

  My fire charm activated automatically, protecting me from the flames, even though I felt the heat as if I’d jumped into an oven. I ran to the next apartment, shouting warnings and banging on doors. The walkway creaked and groaned ominously under my feet.