Bloodline World Seven Book Bundle: 7 Books from the Bloodline Awakened Series and Scarlet Dragon Saga

by J. P. Rice

  Chapter 20

  With the goblins running away from the crumbling castle, they could be right in the escape path I planned to travel. I made it to where the branch connected to the trunk and turned to Titania. “Can you take a quick trip and just see if there are any goblins roaming around?”

  Titania nodded and took off, leaving a trail of bright colors that soon disappeared. I saw the fire coming toward me so I maneuvered over to another branch and got ready to shimmy my way down to the ground. I hoped the Morrigan and Justinian hadn’t run into any trouble. I’d almost forgotten about them.

  I watched the last standing part of the castle—a corner tower—collapse onto the smoking heap of rubble.

  Titania came back, and as she hovered in front of me, she explained, “It’s all clear. No goblins around.”

  “All right. I’m coming down so we can get the hell out of here.”

  I climbed down to the ground, and as soon as my boots hit the muck, I tracked toward the tunnel to get out of here. Titania flew next to me through the dim woods, and my head jerked left and right, searching for goblins.

  I tried to keep my heavy breathing quiet as I worked uphill. Turning over my left shoulder, I looked through the tree branches at a smoking pile of busted stones that once stood as a mighty castle. Pride surged through me at the thought that I’d shut down a factory for cannibalism. The citizens of Sleepy Willow could rest much easier without worrying about the goblins.

  Through the dawn-like atmosphere, I saw the bright red laces of the Morrigan’s black boots. Right next to her was a nude Justinian in human form. His were powers had faded, and he cupped his genitalia, trying to hide his impressive manhood.

  As I approached, I discovered that the red dress around my neck was caught on itself. I unraveled it and tossed it to Justinian. “Here. Put this on so you don’t look ridiculous.”

  He caught the red garment, and I realized they had the tunnel open and ready to go. As Justinian put on the dress and the girls cracked up, I whirled around again, making sure there weren’t any goblins in the area. In a sudden panic, my eyes darted to the Morrigan’s beltline, searching for the dagger named Gareth.

  A flood of calm washed over me when I recognized the bronze handle on her right hip. The Morrigan began to enter the tunnel, and I asked, “Have you tried to get the dagger to talk yet?”

  She shook her head and disappeared into the earth. I followed her in and the air immediately became thick and stale. My breaths were shallow and unfulfilling, causing my lungs to feel like heavy bags.

  About a half-hour later, my head popped out into Boskytown, outside the confines of the Goblin Queen’s swamp. I sucked in some air and looked around nervously for any goblins.

  I looked over my motley crew. The Goddess of Death, a big-breasted dragonfly, a werewolf in a dress and a talking dagger. For a talking dagger, the guy hadn’t said a word yet.

  “We should keep moving, but pull out Gareth and see if he’ll break his silence.” As the words escaped my lips, I had a sinking feeling that this knife was an elaborate decoy to get us out of Pittsburgh.

  “Hey. Who’s screwing with the death cards?” the Morrigan asked Gareth bluntly. She flicked the blade, “Hey. I’m talking to you, pal.”

  The dagger remained silent as we continued walking toward the exit portal of Sleepy Willow. As we walked, each of us took turns trying to get the dagger to talk. I wondered if we had just wasted a deadly trip to this netherworld because the dagger hadn’t uttered a peep.

  All the built-up frustration coursed through my system, and I growled, “Just throw the fookin’ thing in that pond over there. I’m already sick of looking at it. It’s obviously not the right dagger.”

  The Morrigan shrugged her shoulders and wound up to throw the knife out into the deep part of the pond. As her arm whipped forward, a gruff voice cried out, “Hold on for just a second.”

  The Morrigan tried to hold on, but her momentum caused Gareth to slip from her hand. The blade plunged into the ground. I ran over and pulled it out.

  Son of a bitch. He’d finally broken his streak of silence. “So this is you, Gareth?” I asked.

  The ten-inch double-edged steel blade had a mirror finish, although it had faded along with the engravings on both sides. The bronze hilt was shaped like a stick figure man, with legs acting as the guard and an ornate head with outspread arms serving as the pommel. Two tiny rubies embedded in the head acted as eyeballs. Oddly enough, it carried a human quality.

  “Yeah, it’s me. Can’t believe you crazies invaded the Goblin Queen’s shack for me. I don’t know if I should feel special or just assume that you all are insanely stupid. Is that? Is that a guy wearing a dress over there?” he asked, speaking with the slightest hint of a Scottish accent.

  I said, “Yes, but don’t worry about that. We need you to tell us who was involved with the death cards.”

  “Oh, shit,” uttered Gareth. “I shoulda known that’s what this was all about.”

  “So you do know who is producing the fraudulent cards?” asked the Morrigan.

  I spun around, checking for goblins, and Gareth said, “I might know something about it.”

  “Well, fucking spill it,” the Morrigan demanded. “We almost died to get you out of that hellhole.”

  Gareth deepened his voice. “I think maybe we should have a little talk. I see that you want information out of me, but I want some stuff too.”

  “What the hell do you want?” I asked, as we continued toward the portal shack.

  The dagger explained, “It won’t be a long list, but I have some demands before I tell you who is behind the death cards.”

  Great, now the dagger wanted to wheel and deal. We were being held hostage by an inanimate object. “How about instead of meeting your demands, we throw you over the nice red-hot coals of a fire?”

  He chuckled. “The way I was forged. I’m not susceptible to fire.”

  “Then I’ll inject liquid nitrogen into you and shatter you into a thousand pieces,” threatened the Morrigan. She pointed around. “Does that work for you guys?”

  “Yeah,” Titania and Justinian chimed in at the same time.

  “Now hold up. Just give me a second to catch my bearings,” he said and released a long sigh. “I can see I’m dealing with some top-level negotiators here. If you destroy me, the death cards will go on. The Morrigan’s reputation will suffer to the point where the other Celtic Gods will realize she is useless if she can’t control the dead and harvest their souls.”

  The dagger was firing daggers and had gone straight for the kill shot. I was interested to see how the Morrigan would react to the insult. She took a few deep breaths through her nose and stared coldly at Gareth.

  Tightlipped, she grabbed the dagger from me. “What the hell do you want? And whatever it is, we better be able to do it in Pittsburgh.”

  It surprised me that she hadn’t opted for her usual go-to. Destruction.

  Gareth said, “Pittsburgh, huh? Give me a chance to gather my thoughts and make a list. Right off the bat, I want to get drunk. It’s been ages since I’ve tasted good whiskey.”

  “That should be easy. What else?” I asked, dumbfounded that I was negotiating with a weapon.

  “After getting hammered, I’d like to experience pleasure from a certain type of lady,” Gareth hinted.

  “You’re barking up the wrong tree, there,” I told him.

  “Two trees,” the Morrigan added.

  “Make it three. I’m a good teammate, but this is too much,” Titania explained.

  “That isn’t my intention. And, by the way, don’t seem so grossed out by the prospect,” he said, sounding offended. “No, I was referring to a lady of the night. A professional. I normally wouldn’t, but I’ve been out of the mix for a while.”

  “Okay. I’ll take you to a prostitute, but you might want to temper your sexpectations. I can’t make any guarantees on the lady’s behalf,” I told him.

  Gareth responded
, “Sexpectations. Good one. Didn’t think you broads would be funny. Don’t worry, I’m pretty damn smooth with the ladies. Just get me in the room, and I can work my magic.”

  We entered the coppice right outside Boskytown, getting closer to our destination. I checked behind us for goblins, but the coast was clear. “Yeah, you sound like a regular panty-dropper. If that’s it, we can bang this out, pardon the pun, by the end of the day.”

  Gareth interjected immediately, “Wait just a minute, there. I wasn’t finished with my demands.”

  I huffed in frustration as I hopped over a thorny bush. “You said it wasn’t a long list.”

  “The word long could mean two different things to two different people. I will cap this at seven requests.”

  “Seven? What the hell are you talking about?” questioned the Morrigan.

  “Sorry, but I ain’t no cheap date,” explained Gareth. “I know you need information I have. We could still have the list finished by the end of the day.”

  “All right, but you can’t start making ridiculous requests.” I jumped over a creek and saw the shack in the distance.

  “Everything will be well within reason,” Gareth promised.

  “So I’m getting you drunk and taking you to a hooker. What else?” I asked, already annoyed with this situation.

  “I want to sing karaoke at a country bar.” Gareth paused for a few moments. “What else? What else? I want the guy in the dress to change into something else. It’s freaking me out.”

  “That will happen the first chance I get. That’s four,” Justinian said, breaking his brief silence.

  Gareth said, “I’m going to keep the other ones in my back pocket right now.”

  I slowed down and peered around the woods, trying to avoid an ambush at the portal shack. “That’s fine. We just need to get home and get cleaned up and then you can have your fun.”

  “I’m out,” the Morrigan announced. “Sounds like you can make all of Gareth’s wishes come true. You don’t need me.”

  “You’re ditching me?” he asked with a twinge of rejection attached to his words. “I don’t think so. One of my unnamed demands is that the Morrigan hang out with us at the country bar.”

  “That’s five,” Justinian counted off.

  “That’s fine. I enjoy the company of women.” Gareth chuckled.

  I tapped the young wolf on the shoulder. “Listen Justinian, if you want me to take you home and explain to Octavius what happened, I will. Sorry again, for getting you involved in this.”

  “Screw that. I want to see Gareth sing karaoke,” Justinian said, and the rest of us laughed. I wasn’t sure what was funnier, his joke or the tight dress he was wearing.

  We arrived at one of the entrances to Sleepy Willow. They were scattered haphazardly around the land for those who knew exactly where to find them. It was nothing more than a small wooden shack in the middle of nowhere. Unless you knew there was a portal inside, most beings would travel right past it.

  After the bouncer suppressed his laughing fit from Justinian’s attire, he programmed the portal for Pittsburgh. One by one, we entered the glowing blue transfer unit shaped like a normal front door.

  I passed through the portal and ended up in between two mountains outside of Pittsburgh. The frosty chill hit me first, and as the rest of my crew materialized, a light snow started to fall.

  We walked to my Jeep. I grabbed the fake rock near my back tire and pulled out the fob. I started the vehicle and cranked the heat as the scantily clad Justinian dove into the backseat, shivering. There was probably a forty-degree difference in temperature between Sleepy Willow and Pittsburgh, so I couldn’t blame him.

  As we drove home, the exhausted members of the trip rode in silence, while Gareth sang several terrible renditions of “Singin’ in the Rain.” Apparently, he was warming up for his big performance later.

  I dropped off everyone at my house and left Gareth in the running vehicle. I washed my filthy face and hands, changed out of my mud-stained gear, grabbed my purse and some cash, then we headed to the liquor store. Even in clean clothes, I still felt grimy from the trip.

  We arrived at the state store around sundown, and I parked in the lot. “What do you want?” I asked as I turned off the ignition.

  “Not even going to leave the heat on for me, huh?” he said snottily. “I would like a bottle of Laphroaig,” he requested politely.

  “What now?” I asked, wondering what language that was.

  He repeated the name and spelled it out, then said, “I want the 1815 Legacy Edition. It has such a nice depth to it.”

  “What if they don’t have that bottle?”

  “Then we can go to another liquor store, and another one until we find my hooch. It comes in a green bottle or sometimes in a hunter green tube. It ain’t cheap either,” he said, and belly laughed.

  It took a couple trips around the whiskey section and I almost fainted at the price tag. I swiped the green cardboard cylinder from the shelf and walked out of the liquor store a hundred-and-fifty-six dollars lighter, but I had the bait to get Gareth to talk. And hell, I wouldn’t mind taking a few sips of this expensive booze.

  I jumped into the car and popped open the canister. As I slid the bottle out, I asked, “So how exactly does this work?”

  Gareth’s ruby eyes glimmered with excitement. “You just need to pour some of that fine hooch over my blade. Both sides and get it all over. Then I can drink it in.”

  I grabbed him and jumped out of the vehicle. Getting pulled over in a car soaked in booze didn’t seem like a good idea. I unscrewed the cap with one hand and tossed it on the driver’s seat. With my left hand, I held the bottle firm and flattened Gareth’s blade. Standing next to my Jeep, I poured the liquor over the blade, flipped it over, and coated the other side.

  “Aw yeah. That’s the stuff, right there,” he cried out in a deep and sleazy tone, almost causing me to drop him.

  Something caught my eye and I turned to my right. A man walking toward the state store stared at me, his eyes about to pop out of their orbits. I hadn’t really thought about how strange it would look to passersby. Just another day in my life. Who didn’t get talking daggers drunk in the parking lot of a liquor store? Apparently, that guy, who turned away pretending like he hadn’t been staring at me.

  I yelled to the man, “Don’t worry. I’m not crazy.”

  He increased his pace, which led me to believe that my words hadn’t been convincing. I got Gareth good and drunk. At least, I assumed he was drunk, but I’d never partied with a dagger before. I wiped the blade off on my shirt and took a swig of the whiskey.

  Mmmm. As it tingled my tongue, I noticed it had nice depth and a smoky element that sneaked up on me. I set Gareth on the passenger seat and put the cap back on the bottle as I got in. As I started the ignition, the only thought on my mind was jumping in the shower the second I got home. Unfortunately, we still had a dirty, little stop to make.

  We arrived at the escort service, which looked like a one-story motel with about ten rooms. I’d called on the way over to reserve a lady for Gareth. I picked the dagger up off the passenger seat and sheathed him on my beltline.

  “You ready, big boy?” I asked.

  “Big boy? You making a joke or something? What have you heard?” he asked, getting irritated.

  “Holy shit, relax. I didn’t mean anything. You ready to do this?” I asked, staring at the huge sign the size of a billboard. Golden script letters spelled out ‘Lion’s Lair.’ It seemed strange that the cops allowed places like these to operate freely.

  Gareth took a few deep breaths. “All right, let’s do this.”

  Chapter 21

  I wrapped Gareth in a hand towel and angled him into my purse, leaving the handle sticking out. I jumped out of the Jeep and walked across the parking lot toward the ugly beige building. As I opened the front door, a cloying smell of incense hit me. Gareth wisely remained quiet as I approached the front desk.

  I saw hal
lways branching out from the reception area, which was nothing more than a few black leather couches on an ugly brown carpet near the front desk. Two large men with holstered pistols stood near the front door. They were big enough and packing plenty of heat to make a thief think twice about robbing the joint.

  A plump, bald man in a silver track suit greeted me with a slow nod from behind the window of the front counter. He slid a pane of hard plastic to the side. “Hello, and welcome to the Lion’s Lair. How can I help you?”

  I nodded and smiled politely. “I called a little while ago and reserved an appointment with Sophia.”

  His chubby, black stubble-covered cheeks scrunched up in confusion. “That was you, huh? Sounded different on the phone.” He groaned as he leaned over and picked up a pack of Marlboro Lights. He packed the fresh pack, slapping it steadily against his meaty palm. “All righty, then. Flat fee is three hundred. That covers oral, vaginal or anal. Either/or, not all three. That’s extra. You do get a discount for the trifecta, though.”

  No. Gross. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary. I had a special request,” I squeaked, unsure of how to ask the required question. I’d never negotiated this kind of deal before. Shocker, right?

  He thumbed the side of his wide nose. “You gotta work that out with Sophia. But after taking a good look at you, I’ll bet she’ll accommodate you.” He winked and tore the cellophane off his cigarette pack. “You have to negotiate that with her, though. But to get back there, I need three hundred.”

  I reached in my back pocket and pulled out three bills. I set the hundreds on the desk. The bald man dropped his pack of smokes like a bad habit. His hand slapped down, covering the notes and pulling them toward his big belly. He checked the notes, angling them in the light to make sure. Nodding, he picked up a little glass bell from the tabletop and rang it.

  A few moments later, a woman in a pink dress that barely covered her lady bits hustled over. She stumbled in her high heels as she approached.