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

by Lindsay Buroker

  Before I could change my mind and jump down, the door rumbled open.

  20

  I held my breath as the hooded dark elf walked through the doorway beneath me. She—and I could tell from my elevated perch that a woman’s curves lay beneath her surprisingly dry, dark, flowing garb—glanced back the way she had come. Checking to make sure the kraken hadn’t followed her back?

  I wished it had, so she would be distracted, but I doubted the giant squid would fit into that airlock chamber.

  As I balanced precariously above the door, all I could do was hope she didn’t notice the puddle on the floor and the drips falling from my boots. If she didn’t, maybe she would lead me straight to the alchemy lab, where I could get a sample of the alchemist’s blood. I couldn’t tell if she had samples from the kraken in a pocket.

  The dark elf turned, reaching for a lever to close the door, but she glanced down and paused. My puddle. Another drop of water fell off my boot. She was going to figure it out. There was no hope of avoiding notice now.

  As I dropped down, trying to flatten her, I yanked a dagger free. I wanted to hold it to her throat and convince her to talk, but she reacted too quickly. With all the preternatural elven agility that the legends spoke of, she danced away from me, and I barely bumped her arm. She spun to face me and attacked with a kick. Clearly, she was close enough to see through the magical camouflage my charm gave me.

  I knocked the kick aside with my knee and slashed at her leg as she retracted it. My blade sliced through her pants but didn’t draw blood. Again, she was too fast at springing away. I should have drawn Chopper.

  The dark elf reached for something at her belt. I threw the knife at her to buy a second, and she had to spring to the side. By the time she recovered, I had Fezzik out, the barrel aimed at her chest.

  “Stop right there.”

  She froze. Did she understand English? Or only that a weapon was pointed at her? I didn’t want to fire and alert everyone in the underground lair that I was there, but I would to defend myself.

  She curled her lip and scowled. I’d expected dark skin from a dark elf, the first one I’d seen up close, but she was more of an albino with matching white hair, her features elegant but frostier than a glacier.

  “Are you Synaru-van?” I asked. “The alchemist?”

  She looked too young to be a well-known professional in her field, but who knew with elves. I looked young for my age, too, and I only had half-elven blood.

  A stream of lilting, musical words came out of her mouth. They sounded beautiful; I was positive they were a curse, probably accompanied by disparaging remarks about my ancestry.

  Without letting my gun waver, I risked lifting a hand to tap my translation charm.

  “…and Synaru-van will flay you for presuming to attack one of The Chosen. Then she will take you to be sacrificed at midnight with the other, you blasphemous mongrel bastard.”

  “So you’re not Synaru-van. Good to know. Take me to her.”

  “Goddess take you!”

  The dark elf lunged again for her belt, yanking a vial out of a pouch. This time, I was faster. As she hefted the vial to throw it, I fired.

  The round slammed into the glass, knocking it out of her hand and against the wall behind her head. The vial shattered, and red liquid darkened the wall as a puff of crimson vapor oozed out.

  She swore, eyes bulging as she glanced at the mess and skittered away from it. Her reaction told me all I needed to know: that was some dangerous stuff.

  Holding my breath so I didn’t inhale the vapor, I slammed a side kick into her torso. Even though she hadn’t been looking, she almost managed to dodge. But my boot clipped her ribs. She tumbled into the wall, the back of her hand cracking against the red stain. She shrieked and grabbed her knuckles, then shrieked again and let go.

  Though I hated to kick someone when they were down—or crying out in pain—I’d already made a mess of this. Between the screaming and the gunfire, someone was sure to hear and come to investigate.

  I lunged in, ramming a palm strike into her chest. Her head jerked back, clunking against the wall. I tore the pouch that had held that vial off her belt and flung it away.

  She snarled and clawed at my eyes. I ducked and dove in, driving my elbow into her solar plexus.

  The dark elf pitched forward, gasping for breath. I backed away, pointing Fezzik at her again, ears straining as I listened for noise that would indicate someone else was coming.

  “Take me to the alchemist,” I ordered as she struggled to recover from the blow. Since I’d been hit in the solar plexus often, I could sympathize, but I didn’t have time to wait.

  Surprisingly, she dropped to her knees, her hands flexing in pain. Her palm and knuckles were burned, as if that stuff had been fire—or acid. She pitched onto her side, wheezing now, and I backed farther from that stained wall. The crimson vapor had dissipated, but had she inhaled a lungful? Was it poisonous? Or deadly?

  Her yellow eyes rolled back in her head, her pale hair spread out like a mop around her.

  A distant clang echoed down the tunnel. Like a door or hatch opening and hitting a wall. It was far off, but I was sure I’d have company soon.

  Not knowing if the dark elf was alive or dead, I summoned Sindari. It was definitely time for his help.

  As the mist formed, I patted down the dark elf. She didn’t move. I found two vials of blood in her pocket and two that were clearer. The kraken’s blood and venom, I hoped.

  I jammed them into my collection kit as I glanced through the still-open door. Surprisingly, a tiny one-person submarine rested in a pool of water in the chamber. So that was how she’d gotten out to the kraken—and not been soaking wet when she came back.

  You are supposed to bring me into this realm before you slay the enemy, Sindari remarked.

  Another clang sounded, closer this time. My throat was starting to burn, and my nostrils itched. Despite holding my breath, I must have caught a whiff of that vapor before it evaporated.

  There’ll be enemies aplenty soon. We have to find the alchemy lab.

  Do you know where that is?

  No. I started to leave, but the clear dome-shaped lid was up on the submarine, and a voice spoke from a speaker inside.

  “As soon as you complete the task, hurry to the lab. I’m mixing the charcoal and blood now for the midnight ritual. Priestess Yena is eager to thank Yemeli-lor and Baklinor-ten for their gift by officially bringing them into the cult.”

  “If that’s the alchemist, that means she’ll be waiting for us. Let’s hope we can get a sample of her blood and get out quickly.”

  Sindari was facing the tunnel. We’ll first have to deal with two dark elves that are heading this way.

  Nobody was in sight yet, but I trusted his ears. Not if they don’t see us.

  I tapped my cloaking charm again to make sure it was still active and checked the ground for wet footprints. My clothes weren’t anywhere near dry, but I’d stopped dripping.

  I shall do my best to hide myself, but if we must walk right past them, they may see through both of our magics. Sindari faded even to my eyes, appearing more like a silver apparition than the usual solid tiger.

  As we headed down the tunnel, I listened for the thud of footfalls. Then I remembered these were elves. They would move lightly, perhaps without a sound.

  When we reached a bend, my night-vision charm allowed me to pick out movement in the pitch blackness ahead. Two cloaked and hooded figures.

  With Fezzik in hand, I plastered my back to the wall and held my breath. Would elven ears be keen enough to pick up the sound of my heart beating?

  Sindari melted against the opposite wall, and I lost sight of him.

  The dark elves ran closer, aware that something was up, but they didn’t look at me. One’s step faltered, and he reached for a gun at his belt as his gaze searched the opposite wall. Did he sense Sindari?

  As soon as they reached the bend, his buddy hit him in the arm and po
inted. They’d spotted the female dark elf crumpled on the floor, the door open to the submarine chamber. The one who’d sensed Sindari forgot about him or was distracted. Their jogs turned to sprints, and they ran past us.

  I waited, reminded that they might hear my steps if they were close, until they were almost to her, then ran in the opposite direction. Sindari trotted at my side. We passed through an open hatchway.

  Distant thuds and clangs reverberated from walls that had changed from uniform gray cement near the lake to a mix of ancient brick, stone, and cracked cement. At one point, a giant pipe made up one of the sides of the tunnel, and we also passed the missing door and cracked glass window of some old storefront. The whole place smelled dank and wet.

  I sense a great deal of magic ahead, both powerful people and powerful artifacts, Sindari reported.

  Ideally, we’ll avoid all of that and detour to the alchemy lab. I led the way through a second hatchway, and then things got complicated. A four-way intersection offered three options. Any idea which way? Can you smell chemicals?

  Wouldn’t chemicals be locked away in containers?

  I don’t know, but isn’t your sense of smell amazing?

  All of me is amazing. But I still don’t smell chemicals.

  What about blood? She’s mixing blood and charcoal for some ceremony to welcome new evil minions into the cult. I was fairly certain the names the speaker had mentioned were the same names Zav had shared, the criminals he wanted me to retrieve along with his broken-egg platter. Later, I’d happily let him know they were down here, but I was just here for blood. There would be no side trips to run errands for dragons.

  An inner emotion that didn’t seem to be my own oozed disapproval at this line of thinking. I gritted my teeth, annoyed that Zav had imprinted some compulsion on me, that stupid eagerness to please him.

  I smell much blood. Sindari twitched his tail.

  Can you lead me to it?

  I shall try.

  It was a testament to how strange my life was that I wanted to be taken toward the copious amounts of blood and not away from them.

  Sindari headed right, took a left at another intersection, and then opted for a sloping ramp heading upward instead of stairs leading deeper underground where a moist mildewy odor wafted up from below. The idea of this place having multiple levels daunted me. Seattle was at sea level, so it was hard to imagine that the dark elves could have dug many extra tunnels down here without water creeping in.

  My lungs did not like that mildew scent, so I took a puff from my inhaler. Better to use it preemptively now than need it in a fight later.

  New noises joined the clangs and thuds, a clanking and grinding. It sounded like machinery—did they have pumping equipment running down here?

  As the ramp led us higher, the rumble of cars driving somewhere above us also seeped down through the layers. Lastly, I heard the chanting of voices. A lot of voices.

  They rose and fell in a creepy cadence. If they were speaking a language, it was one my charm didn’t know how to translate. Maybe it was nonsense. It had the repetitive nature of some ancient mantra.

  I slowed my pace. I don’t think this is the way to the alchemy lab. Not unless it’s a popular place.

  What if the lab was where this ritual would take place? Surely not. Who sacrificed goats or virgins or whatever in a science lab?

  Sindari glanced back. We are still going toward the smell of blood.

  This place probably smells like blood all over.

  That is not untrue, but it is stronger up ahead. I also detect charcoal. You mentioned that, yes?

  Yes. Reluctantly, I kept going. After all I’d faced in my life, I shouldn’t be afraid of a little blood and chanting, but something about this place gave me the creeps.

  For the first time, we reached a series of doors along the sides of the tunnel. Some were open, some closed. Some were made of sturdy metal full of rivets, some of old rotting wood.

  I peeked inside the open doors, hoping for the lab, but they appeared to be personal quarters, meeting rooms, and storage areas. One of the latter was full of shelves of knives, skulls, and human body parts in jars. Torture implements, some I could name and far more that I couldn’t, hung on racks.

  My stomach lurched queasily, and I reached for the pouch of grenades I’d brought, but I thought better of it. As much as I’d like to blow up all of their evil torture stuff, that would only draw the dark elves down on me. As it was, we likely had only minutes before the two who’d found the female reported back. That would put an end to the chanting and a beginning to hunt-Val time.

  We rounded a bend, traffic still audible rumbling by overhead, and for the first time since I’d left the surface, light reached my eyes. Infrared light, similar to what Zoltan had brightened his laboratory with.

  The tunnel ended at a wide balcony lined with a metal railing and overlooking a chamber below. The source of the red light was over on the far side of the chamber, a huge two-story statue of a multi-limbed, insectoid figure with four heads. If that represented their goddess, she was hideous. The statue was made entirely from bones, some human, others from larger animals. The four heads were the fossilized skulls of dinosaurs. The bones appeared to be more recent.

  As I crept closer, drawn by curiosity—or maybe it was the dragon’s influence—the backs of the heads of dozens, maybe hundreds, of dark elves came into view. Some were hooded, and some had their hoods back, their white hair tumbling to their shoulders. The dark elves stood chanting as they faced the massive sculpture and dais. Nobody stood on the dais yet, but a vat of a dark liquid gurgled over a fire pit where a pulpit in a church might have been. Was it blood? Whose? On a table next to the vat rested Zav’s cracked-eggshell artifact and a paintbrush.

  The urge to fling myself over the railing to sprint up and snatch it surged into me, and my legs carried me three running steps before I slammed an anchor down on that urge. I planted my hand against the wall, bracing myself before Zav’s compulsion could force me onto the balcony and into a suicidal act.

  Val? Sindari spoke into my mind. Back here. This is where I smell the charcoal. There is also blood inside, though not as much as is in that vat.

  Though I had to struggle against my will—against Zav’s will—I stepped back. But after only one step, a squirming girl with red hair was brought out, bundled in a blanket and toted on two male elves’ shoulders.

  From the balcony, I could only see part of her face, but it was enough to read the terror in her eyes. How had she ended up down here? She was my daughter’s age, maybe a little younger.

  I stared in horror. Was she their sacrifice for the night?

  21

  Val? Sindari prompted again. He faced a metal door, the alchemist’s lab.

  Gulping, I forced myself to step back from the balcony and join him. Maybe once we got a sample of the alchemist’s blood, I could find a way to rescue the girl. I had grenades. If I threw them all, was it possible I could slip in through the chaos and reach her? And then somehow find a way back out of that chamber? With so many dark elves down there, it was a daunting prospect, but I wouldn’t let myself give up on the idea. Hopefully, the girl had some time.

  I joined Sindari, determination and anger making me shake.

  The tunnels were cool, but sweat beaded on my forehead. My throat burned, as if the crimson vapor from that vial had seared off all the cilia and some of the flesh. My lungs were tight, too, affected by the vapor or maybe just unhappy with the mildewy undertone of this place. I was tempted to use my inhaler again, but I was only supposed to do that every few hours, not every twenty minutes. Besides, its soft puff might be loud enough for those keen elven ears to pick up.

  I tried to ease the door aside, but it didn’t budge. Once again, my lock-picking charm came to the rescue. After applying it, I slid the door aside easily.

  Sindari charged in, almost bumping me out of the way. He flew through the air and smashed into the startled female dark elf turni
ng toward us. Synaru-van? It had to be.

  I jumped inside, glimpsing counters full of vials and equipment in a lab twice as large as Zoltan’s as I rushed to close the door, hoping it was soundproof. Especially when the alchemist shrieked a curse and dropped two glass flasks as Sindari plowed into her. They shattered on the cement floor.

  Wincing, I threw a deadbolt on the door, though I doubted it would keep out the rest of the dark elves for long, and pulled out Chopper and Fezzik.

  Sindari had caught Synaru-van off-guard, and she lay on her back under him, arms and legs pinned under his paws. She struggled and spat in his face, but he was strong enough to keep her down. Numerous tools and pouches were attached to her belt, and I rushed forward to yank them off.

  “Sorry to intrude,” I said as she glared daggers at me, “but I’m in need of a sample of your blood and also to know why you and your people poisoned my boss. Oh, and if you already have an antidote handy, that would be great. I doubt that dragon is going to give me any of his blood. He’s super uptight about it.”

  She spat at me. I jerked my head back to avoid the phlegmy wad, then patted down the slick oddly-textured black robe she wore to make sure she didn’t have pockets full of weapons.

  “You are the Ruin Bringer,” Synaru-van said in realization. “You have delivered yourself to us?” She lost her ire and frustration and cackled.

  I liked it better when she’d been spitting mad.

  “You were the only one in that organization that my people thought would get in the way of our plans, but we weren’t sure if we could kill you. If we killed your employer, and bribed someone to close your office, we thought you would quit.”

  Great, confirmation that Willard had only been targeted because of me.

  “But now you’re here in our lair. You’ll never escape.” She laughed so hard that tears came to her creepy yellow eyes.

  Someone pounded at the door.

  Do you want me to bite her head off? Sindari asked.