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

by Lindsay Buroker

  Then I’m glad their aim has been lousy.

  Has it? That room you were in burned down, with the roof collapsing on it. If you’d been a little slower to get out…

  I take your point. Keep me updated, please.

  “Here, you can see this sigil.” Zoltan laid the book on the counter, open to a back page.

  Though my instincts warned me about getting too close, I came over, keeping Fezzik between him and me. Zoltan beamed an admiring smile at my neck. I must have caught him on a hungry night.

  The familiar symbol was one of four drawn on the page in faded brown ink—or was that blood? The smaller text written around each symbol was in black ink.

  “What’s it say about it?” I couldn’t read anything, but the flowing script was in the same stylistic vein as the symbol. “And what language is this book in?”

  “The particular alchemical language of the dark elves. They have four different tongues, one for alchemy, one for religious purposes, one for teaching, and one for everyday use. Even in their heyday here on Earth, few people knew the alchemical language.”

  “Are you one of those people?”

  “You called me a people. I’m honored.” There was that smile again and a slight bow.

  “Weren’t you one once?”

  “Indeed, indeed. Not so long ago that I can’t remember it. But these days, I merely stay in my dark hole and research and teach, and occasionally contemplate summoning my followers to this place so that I might feast on their blood while turning them into young vampires. I could raise up an army to do my bidding.”

  “Followers?”

  “Yes. To my channels.” He extended his hand toward the computer setup. “There are millions.” His dead black eyes managed to gleam.

  “Oh, the teenage girls.”

  “And some boys. Also, my demographics studies have shown that housewives between the ages of thirty-four and fifty-three find me quite the tiger’s meow.”

  I squinted at him, suspecting that was to let me know that he knew Sindari was prowling around up there. “Tigers don’t meow.”

  “No?”

  “What would you do with an army?”

  “That’s the question, isn’t it? Perhaps I could find a way to rule this nation—your political system seems fraught with strife, so it’s clear that a superior option is needed—but my difficulties with sunlight would pose a challenge. And I’m certain your government would field someone like you to come slay me. Which would be tedious.”

  “No doubt.”

  “And besides, my followers are terribly valuable where they are. My sponsors value them a great deal. Their funds pay for me to have my alchemical supplies delivered. The world has become a fascinating place.”

  “Yes. Can you read that?” I tapped the page.

  A light warning zap ran up my finger.

  Zoltan lifted a hand, shooing mine away. “Only one versed in the language and suitably respectful to the dark elf way may read this book.”

  “Does that mean it’s unlikely that some kid—such as one of your followers—found another book like it and taught himself or herself to make the potion that was used against my boss?”

  “They’re called formulas, my dear, and no mere mortal alive today could have mastered this language and learned enough to interact with a tome such as this. As you felt, it’s warded against simpletons turning its pages, and I do not teach the dangerous arts to my followers. Only enough for them to poison a brutal lover or abusive parent if they wish. Self-defense, if you will.”

  “Noble of you.”

  “Yes.”

  I had about given up on him getting to the point and offering me useful information when he touched the sigil. “For your two hundred dollars there, I’ll tell you that this formula was created as a way to kill people slowly so that suspicion would be drawn neither to the deliverer of the formula nor the alchemist who created it.”

  “How much time does it take for the victim to die?” I whispered.

  “Oh, four to six weeks for most people.”

  I swallowed. How long had it already been since Willard had been dosed?

  “This is the list of ingredients. A few of them would be challenging to acquire, at least for this landlocked vampire.”

  “Do you know who made the pot—formula and if there’s an antidote? Something that will cure the illness or at least remove the magical component of it so that modern medicine can do its job?” I worried that the disease might have progressed too far for modern medicine, but I refused to give up hope.

  “If the formula was made and delivered in this part of the world, I can most certainly tell you who crafted it. But let me take a closer look, eh.”

  Zoltan picked up the vial and walked to a microscope, a fancy modern one hooked up to a computer. He prepared something resembling a drugstore cotton swab, moistening the end with liquid from a dark bottle, and prodded around in the vial. How much residue would he find in there after it had spent weeks in Willard’s coffee-ground-strewn garbage disposal and then been carted around in my pocket?

  I kept myself from pacing as he prepared a slide and examined it. Sindari, any update?

  I haven’t been able to find Dimitri.

  What? My fist clenched. If bringing him here got him killed, I’d have more blood on my hands—more guilt. Why hadn’t I ordered him to go back to the van and wait inside with the curtains drawn and the doors locked? Did he leave the carriage house?

  I don’t believe so. His scent lingers here, but he is not in this loft or anywhere in this main room.

  There was a trapdoor. Maybe he found it, went down, and got stuck like I did.

  I will check.

  “I can verify that the formula that existed in this vial is what the sigil says it should be.” Zoltan pointed at the open book. “I can also verify that a drop of the alchemist’s blood was used in the making, per the recipe. There are two types of DNA present in the sample.”

  It was strange hearing a long-dead vampire talking about DNA. “Whose?” was all I asked.

  “One belongs to a kraken, the other to a dark elf.”

  “A kraken? Where does one find kraken blood, and aren’t krakens poisonous?”

  “Venomous and very much so, yes. But not their blood. Their venom comes from their bite, from a venom gland in their mouths, the same as with a squid. Kraken venom is an excellent ingredient to work with. But exceedingly rare. If you come by any, do let me know. I will purchase it at market rate plus ten percent.”

  My only familiarity with krakens came from mythology, so this notion that they not only existed but had a market rate was disturbing.

  “Kraken blood also cannot be ordered online. It’s likely one has taken up residence nearby, and the blood was collected fresh.” Zoltan stepped away from the microscope.

  “I hear Lake Washington is nice. All those fat harbor seals down by the Arboretum to munch on.”

  He nodded. “A possible location, or out in Puget Sound. They traditionally prefer deep-sea waters to tumultuous surface waters, and saltwater to fresh, but they can exist for periods of time in fresh water.”

  “Thank you for looking up the formula. Is there an antidote? And you said only one person around could have made it. Who?”

  “A reversal of the formula could be constructed, something that would essentially clean out the residue in the afflicted person’s system. After that, you would also need a long-acting healing elixir to reverse the cellular damage. I could not guarantee that would be effective. If the disease is far along, it would be too late. One could make the elixir more potent with a drop of the victim’s blood.”

  A return visit to the hospital, check.

  “And to make the reversal formula, it would require the blood of the same kraken and of the dark-elf alchemist who made it.”

  Ugh, I would need more than a visit to the hospital to find those.

  “You would also need a highly trained and exceptional alchemist willing to create a
ll this for you.” He smiled.

  “Any chance that’s you? Or am I going to have to find this dark-elf alchemist—does he have a name?—and force him to do it at gunpoint?”

  “I wouldn’t trust any formula that was made under duress. As to if I can do it, I am capable, but I would not wish to incur the wrath of the dark-elf clan living in the area. My simple home would be easy for them to breach, and I could not fight off many of their mages. Their magic is very strong.”

  An entire clan? Great.

  “But I would possibly risk their wrath if the price were right and if the alchemist—Synaru-van is her name—never learned of my involvement.”

  “What’s your price?” My skin crawled as I imagined him demanding my blood—or for me to bring some of his followers here so he could enjoy their blood.

  “You have lingering about you the aura of a dragon.”

  The unexpected statement startled me. “He left his aura on me? Nasty.”

  “Many of my ancient formulas require a drop of dragon blood. This has been hard to come by. For the longest time, there were no dragons left on Earth, not even as visitors. It seems that has changed.” He beamed his smile at me, not at my neck this time but at me. Or maybe at that crusty dragon aura lingering about me.

  I vowed to take a bath later and scrub with my loofah and that high-powered pumice hand-cleaner that mechanics liked. I used it whenever I got an assignment’s blood on me, and I would slather myself from head-to-toe to get a dragon aura off.

  “To sum up,” Zoltan said, “I will create both the reversal formula and the healing elixir for you, but I require a drop of Synaru-van’s blood, a drop of the blood of the kraken that she used, and, for my own payment, a vial of dragon blood.”

  “A vial? Not just a drop?”

  “I have many formulas that require a drop of dragon blood. Thus I need many drops.” He rubbed his cold hands together with hot glee.

  “These aren’t the formulas that would allow you to take over the White House, are they?”

  “Oh, no. I could do that simply by making followers. Please be honored that I’m not asking you to become one.”

  “My neck and I are pleased. Is it because the dragon aura clinging to my skin makes my blood undesirable?”

  “Not at all. The dragon aura would enhance the flavor and perhaps even give me increased vitality.”

  I was definitely using the loofah later.

  “It’s the powerful magical gun you haven’t stopped pointing at me that’s problematic.”

  “I’m glad I brought it then.” I looked at his shelves. “Do you have some empty vials I can borrow? And, uh, syringes. I assume you don’t want the bloods to mingle.”

  “Certainly not. I’ll prepare you a sample kit.”

  “Do you have any idea where I can find this dark-elf alchemist?”

  “In the tunnels beneath Seattle.”

  I could have guessed that from what Willard had told me. “Is there a favorite entrance she uses when she goes out to shop for groceries and human sacrifices?”

  “I doubt Synaru-van goes out. I do not know where their entrances are, but she didn’t find the kraken blood in a puddle under the freeway.”

  I scratched my jaw. Meaning there was likely access somewhere near a large body of water? Unfortunately, that didn’t narrow things down much. Most of Seattle was within a mile or two of one significant body of water or another.

  He’s not in the little room under the trapdoor, Sindari told me. And if you’ve ever tried to open a door with only paws and claws, you’ll thank me for my effort.

  Where else could he have gone? Back to the van?

  No. He’s still here. I smell him close. As if he’s under the floorboards.

  “Zoltan, did you capture my chauffeur?”

  “Your what?”

  “A large man with some dwarfish blood in him.”

  “Hm, not I. I was focused on you. It’s possible this house captured him. You may have noticed it’s haunted.”

  I rubbed my face. “What?”

  “Why do you think I chose this for my domicile? Its tenacity and will to continue existing have kept the human bulldozers away. I’ve watched all the large houses be installed around it.”

  “The noise and progress haven’t bothered you?”

  “Not at all. It’s made it easy to find sustenance. Though it’s unfortunate that a new family hasn’t moved into the nearest building yet.” He waved in the direction of the vacant house. “It was so handy to have warm blood so close at hand.”

  “Shocking that they put the house up for sale.”

  “My touch is light and comes in the dark of night. Nobody ever has anything but suspicions. Though I’m not so subtle with enemies.” He smiled at me, and I had a feeling it truly was only the gun that had kept him cooperative tonight. “Here are your vials and syringes.”

  “Thanks. How do I get my friend out of the carriage house?” I pointed upward.

  “Leave it an appropriate sacrifice.”

  “Is that how all the junk got up there?”

  “It is. The house has eclectic tastes.”

  If Dimitri had tried to take that box of trains he’d seen, that might explain why the house had captured him. How did I get it to un-capture him? I didn’t have any valuable junk I could leave.

  Are you almost done? Sindari asked. I smell the dark elves. They’re returning, and they’ve acquired larger weapons.

  Fantastic.

  16

  Zoltan showed me a way out—he seemed pleased that I would leave without robbing him, and even believed I might be able to bring him some dragon blood. Before I could contemplate how that might occur, I had to find Dimitri and deal with these dark elves. Or find Dimitri and run before the dark elves got to us.

  I wasn’t itching for a fight, and I highly doubted the alchemist I needed was one of the dark elves out harassing suburban neighborhoods. These were probably some lowly minions sent to hassle me. Bonus points if they killed me.

  As soon as Zoltan was gone, I used my inhaler. If this new development—I glared down at my faulty lungs—was going to interfere with jobs, I would have to cave to the doctor’s suggestion to get the steroid inhaler. Either that or take a more serious stab at figuring out how to de-stress and lower inflammation. It probably involved drinking mai tais on a beach somewhere and not battling giant spiders. How boring.

  The inside of the carriage house was just as junk-filled as I’d left it, but there was no Dimitri. Sindari trotted soundlessly through the door as I was peering behind tarp-covered piles.

  You’re sure he’s not outside? I asked silently, not sure how far away the dark elves were.

  No. I smell him and sense him in here.

  Where?

  The house creaked and groaned, as if it were talking to us. Or threatening us.

  Sindari padded uncertainly around. I remembered the toy train box that had caught Dimitri’s eye and found the shelves he’d been looking at. My night-vision charm wasn’t designed for reading or making out fine details in the dark, so I turned it off and shined my phone’s flashlight at the area. The shelves were full of boxes. I didn’t see a train kit, but it was hard to tell what lay under all the dust.

  You’re close to him.

  I shined the light upward, but this section wasn’t under the loft. Only the ceiling lay above, a hole in one spot showing clouds scudding across the starry night sky. He wasn’t up there. I tilted the light down, thinking there might be another trapdoor.

  Behind you, Sindari warned.

  I whirled, hand on my gun.

  A faded image of Dimitri floated in the air, more like a holographic projection than a flesh-and-blood person. He glowed with a faint yellow light. His feet floated above the floor, and ethereal vines wrapped around him, also glowing. In the image, he was blindfolded and gagged.

  Sindari? Is he…

  Not really there. It’s a projection from somewhere else. But this place is muddling my sense
s.

  The vampire said it’s haunted.

  It’s definitely magical, a very old enchantment, I believe. I couldn’t tell you what species of magical being created it.

  The dangling and bound Dimitri was clutching a box in his hand—the dusty train box.

  Zoltan said all the junk here is stuff that people brought for the house, like sacrifices to a god.

  A god who loves junk?

  Apparently. Maybe if I give it something it deems worthy, it’ll let him go. Let us all go. I glanced toward the front door and wondered if I would be allowed to simply walk outside, or if the floor or some portal to another dimension would open up and swallow me.

  What will you offer? Sindari asked warily. The most valuable thing you have is me.

  I’m not giving it your figurine. Also, you have a high opinion of your self-worth.

  I simply know my self-worth. You cannot deny that I’m far superior to your other charms.

  That’s possibly true, but Fezzik and Chopper have gotten me out of a lot of scrapes.

  Have they ever flung themselves off a cliff and into the ocean to lure a dragon away?

  No. I concede your point. You’re infinitely valuable.

  I ran a finger along the other charms on my necklace. Even if they weren’t as valuable as Sindari, they were all irreplaceable, and almost every one represented a quest and a battle I’d undertaken to acquire it. But what else did I have that might tempt the house into releasing Dimitri? Was it even truly responsible or was this some other trick of Zoltan’s? A component of his security system?

  But the piles of dusty valuables on the shelves did seem to hint of a presence—a sentience?—with tastes differing from the vampire’s. It was hard to imagine Zoltan pushing toy trains around his laboratory.

  What could I offer the house that it would want? I shouldn’t offer up the most valuable things I had as an opening move. That was no way to bargain. Besides, not everything on those shelves looked that valuable. More quirky.

  “I have an idea,” I blurted. “Stay here, Sindari. So it doesn’t think we’re leaving. I’ll be right back.”

  Don’t let the dark elves see you, Sindari said as I trotted for the front door.