California Imperium

by Aaron Crash

“And when he found other failed Dragonskins, he added them to his secret organization of assassins, saboteurs, and honorless dogs. And so, the Onari Guard was born, with me as its worthless leader. For centuries, for a thousand years, we cut throats of the innocent. We murdered in the darkness and sowed chaos. That is how I knew Bruno Illick, the eunuch assassin, and the Shadow Archer. Both were like me, mercenaries, dishonored, living in the shadows and drenched in murder and treachery. I have nothing left inside me that is not stained in blood. Now you know who I am.”

  She tried to smile, and it crumpled until no emotion showed on Uchiko’s face. She then got down on her knees in front of him.

  Silence filled the Seoul Aerie. Steven listened for Tessa’s laughter in the other room. He listened for a snarky remark from Mouse, or Aria, their new thirteen, giving orders, organizing things. He heard nothing. He’d not even left the master bedroom, but he knew this secret Aerie had become a dark, troubled place.

  Steven got down on his knees to hold Uchiko’s hand. He shifted the left part of his body, his arm and his leg, to match hers. He then bent and kissed her. It was odd, without a doubt, feeling her lips at the same time he felt her scales, but he wanted her to know he accepted all of her.

  She didn’t turn away.

  “Those thousand years are not who you are,” he said. “They are simply what you had to do to survive.”

  “I should’ve committed suicide,” she whispered.

  “Why didn’t you?” He could guess the answer.

  “Rahaab offered us a cure, and he dangled that over us. And then he used our love against us. If we didn’t do what he said, he would kill Haru or Han or Baako. We lived for each other.”

  “And that is who you are,” Steven said. “You are heroic, and you are strong, and you are selfless. You have lived a thousand years because I needed you, Uchiko. I needed the Onari Guard. I still do. You protected and served Mathaal in his final years. And now you protect and serve me.”

  Uchiko’s eyes grew distant. “We lived until we could find you. And now we can live with honor. Finally, finally.” She paused. “Rahaab would’ve destroyed us, twenty years ago. I think he wanted the Onari Guard dead so we wouldn’t unveil all his treachery. He lived in his secrets. Just as we did. Exiling us to Mathaal’s island was a way of getting rid of us. And then he tried to erase our memories, and he did, until you and your Escort freed us. And damned us. We were happy in our human bodies in Montana.”

  “Don’t you see the hope there?” Steven asked. “Rahaab could’ve cured you at any time. He didn’t because he was an evil bastard. I will learn the magic. I will do what he refused to do. I swear to you I will.”

  Uchiko threw herself onto him, clinging to him, and he reached out and gripped her body to him. Again, he had that feeling of wonder at her skin and her scales, but his whole life had changed, as had what he considered normal.

  They moved to the bed. While her scales covered her left side, they parted to leave her sex wholly human. He pulled her to the edge of the bed, kissing the inside of her thigh, until his mouth found her opening. He made love to her with his tongue until she shuddered, crying out, her skin glowing from the Animus.

  “Fill me now, my Prime. I want to feel you inside me, inside this ruined body. Please.” She moved farther up on the bed, spreading her legs. He got between them and slid into her, gazing down on her face.

  All he saw was her tragic beauty, her wanting to be different, her centuries of labor and sorrow, all because she had longed to save her friends. And in her eyes, he also saw hope and love. Her desire fueled his; she had spent so long without a lover; her passion was overflowing.

  Her tunnel was soft around him, scalding hot, tight. When he glanced down, it was easy to focus on her single, perfect breast, her flat stomach, and the beauty of her sex. He worked himself in and out of her until she was glowing again, and her excitement triggered his own. Animus washed through him in waves of bliss.

  His face fell into the human skin of her neck. When he went to pull out of her, she stopped him. “Not yet, my Prime. It’s been so long. It feels so good. Stay in me.”

  He did, but her soft motions, her murmurs, her kisses, got him excited again. He swelled until she stretched around him, and they had sex again. When he looked down again, into her eyes, he remembered his vision of her, and the smile on her face was luminous.

  After his second orgasm, and her fifth, they rested again on the bed. Dawn was coming, and the lights of the Seoul night were fading. Now Steven was definitely hungry, bordering on ravenous.

  Sabina’s voice filled his head. I know how to get you home, Steven. There will be a price to pay, but your Escort will be glad to pay it. And I miss you, my Prime. I miss you so much. Our fates hang in the balance, and I’m frightened that our little Regina will be lost to us. I pray I’m wrong. I pray there’s another way, but the future has never been so unclear to me.

  The voice faded away. Steven shot up in bed. Yeah, he was hungry, but he could eat on the plane. He needed to call Sabina and the Wayne twins and get the full story. Right away. And he was going to summon every vassal under his command.

  Steven was going to go home, even if he had to kill every single American dragon to do it.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  BRUNO LAY ON THE COOL tiles of the bathroom in some Kuta hotel. He had flopped out of the blood-filled bathtub. Was it his blood? He didn’t know. He didn’t know anything. He might’ve killed a human. It was hard to think.

  Bali, he was still in Bali, and he was still alive, and yet he was damaged. He recalled rummaging in his bag of tricks to find a bottle of Coors, full of the Animus of a kill long ago. It barely touched his hunger. He’d tried to smoke. Even the smoke had failed him.

  He was curled around the toilet. He had a cigarette in his fingers. It was half-smoked. His ritual was as damaged as he was. The failed HeartStrike. The Drokharis child, mixing spells, casting magic, fighting like a devil. He was so like Arthur, but Arthur was dead, his quest a failure.

  Bruno coughed. The door opened.

  Bruno smelled spices from Kerala in India: cardamom, cloves, nutmeg. He remembered the dragon who smelled like that. Not a Dragonknight. Older than the Dragonknights. Not an Alpheros, but their offspring.

  What year was it? Oh, that Drokharis child, the Shadow Archer, they had hurt him, and Bruno hadn’t been hurt in a long, long time.

  The shadow of Paanga Komang fell on Bruno. That was what he called himself now, but the ancient Dragonsoul had many, many names. The old beast tsked. “Oh, my friend, my young friend. What have you done to yourself?”

  “Steven Drokharis. He dispelled my HeartStrike.” Bruno was naked. Paanga would see the scars between his legs. Paanga wouldn’t show him any kindness. Paanga would kill poor Bruno.

  “You both trespassed in my territory,” Paanga said softly. “As did the Shadow Archer. I should’ve killed all three of you. I have dragons following her, and she will not escape easily. As for you, tell me who hired you, Bruno. And why do they want the Drokharis scion dead?”

  Bruno knew his life hung in the balance. In his present state, Paanga Komang could easily cut his throat. The old Dragonsoul controlled every island south of Taiwan. His power was enormous. Old, so old.

  Bruno told the ancient dragon about Roy Right, the Americos Chamber, and Steven’s exile.

  Paanga chuckled. “Those old things still work? I was there, with both the Dragonknights and the Alpheros when the Zothoric came to America three thousand years before Amerigo Vespucci was even born. Arthur wasn’t called Arthur back then. You should have seen us, Bruno. Arthur, Merlin, your father, all the Dragonknights fighting in perfect unison with Mathaal and Rahaab, that villain. The Ever-Seeing Eyes warned us where the demons were, and we used portals to find them, kill them before they spread. Merlin used his enchantments to alter the eyes into fists. And yes, the Zothoric were stopped. But we only fought a few of their species. Only a few. To be truly attacked would’ve meant ou
r demise. Rahaab hid. Rahaab wanted to die. He got his wish. His battle against the Drokharis scion was a suicide.”

  Bruno tried to rouse himself during Paanga’s long speech. But he couldn’t. He was simply too weak. The old dragon came in and picked up the Hellstring. “Merlin crafted this bow. No Magician, human or dragon, could match him.”

  Paanga used the end of the bow to poke the scars between Bruno’s legs. “And that was a gift from the Dragon Slayer?”

  “Yes!” Bruno yelped.

  Paanga sighed and set the Hellstring back on the counter of the hotel bathroom’s blood-splattered counter. He squatted by Bruno.

  “I should’ve joined the Dragonknights when Arthur invited me,” the old dragon said. “I would’ve been their thirteenth warrior. But I wanted to be done with the fighting. I wanted peace. I still do. Do you think Steven Drokharis brings peace?”

  “No!” Bruno half moaned, half shouted.

  “No, men like him bring war. Arthur brought war, but it wasn’t war that killed him.” Paanga stood. “Steven and his Escort must have found the torch chamber that your father and Merlin created. That was how Steven knew to come to Bali. And so, the quest for the Holy Grail has resumed after ten centuries. I wonder if they will get as close as Arthur and Merlin did.”

  Bruno crushed the cigarette in his fingers. He had to find the strength to escape. He didn’t want to die. He had a job to do. And the next time he faced the lost son and the Slayer’s daughter, he would murder them both. He knew what they were now. He knew their power.

  Paanga touched Bruno’s skin. “Such a wretched creature you are. The puppet who I let govern this Primacy is on his way to end your trespasses. He would not forgive them. I would. Go, Bruno, go. Perhaps, in time, you will stop your killing. Perhaps, in time, your father will learn to love you as you are, not as he would have you be.”

  It was impossible. Paanga wasn’t going to kill him. No, in fact, this old dragon was going to heal him. Animus flowed into Bruno from the ancient being.

  Paanga turned and left. Before he did, Bruno glanced and saw the man, saw the tattoo on his neck, the same one that marked the statue in the Balinese jungle near the waterfall temple.

  Then, Paanga Komang was gone.

  Bruno wept, grateful to be alive.

  Full of Animus, Bruno went to the mirror, looked into his own eyes, and muttered, “Magica Divinatio.”

  He saw the California coast, and the Americos Chamber there. He could cast an Incanto spell and enter from the sea. No one else could do that. No one would see it coming.

  There was still time to find Steven Drokharis and kill him. Then at least Roy Right would love poor Bruno. Roy Right wasn’t his father. Roy Right wasn’t even Roy Right. However, having the love of any Dragonknight was special.

  Bruno picked up the Hellstring. At least this time, he wouldn’t have to deal with the Shadow Archer’s arrows. Paanga had promised to take care of her.

  And like Bruno, the gentle but cruel Paanga Komang kept his promises.

  STEVEN STOOD ON THE shores of Catalina Island, another ocean, another sky. Skylar had been able to land at the private airport there. Fifty miles from the coast, the island was far enough away that Steven wasn’t feeling any of the effects of the Americos Chambers. His vassals were ready. His allies were ready. Not only would this invasion help him get his Animus back, it would also flush out the coalition of Dragonlords who wanted Steven dead.

  Good. He’d rather kill them up front. The Wayne twins had told him everything they’d learned. He was going up against Roy Right, Abner Savedra, and Jem Osprey. Not just those Primes, but their vassals as well. That would likely include the pale dragon.

  Bruno Illick, the Shadow Archer, and Oe Uchiko: all three were part of a strange criminal underground working behind the scenes of normal Dragonsoul politics. Uchiko knew little about Bruno and nothing about the Shadow Archer other than the vendetta the archer held against the pale dragon.

  Steven gazed out over the water. So much had happened since they’d left the Oregon coast. He’d dealt with things in Australia for the moment, he’d told his Escort his plan on how to deal with his growing number of wives, and then there were other more personal milestones.

  Zoey was getting stronger, that was clear. The bear girl was with Mouse, preparing for the coming fight instead of glued to Steven’s side. Uchiko had joined his Escort in a very real way, finally telling him her life story. She was with Tessa, both checking their weapons. Of course Tessa would become friends with the withdrawn ninja Skinling. The gunslinging barista was slowly learning how to live with her bittersweet heritage. Yet her magic had never been more powerful.

  Steven pulled up the Path of the Mirror-Souled Dragon.

  HE THOUGHT OF HOW MERLIN had combined the Echantrix, AnimusChain, and Divinatio spells. Could Steven and Tessa combine spells like Defensio and Incanto? If they could layer spells together, it might create combinations that could prove very useful—like combo moves in video games, where damage doubled and the ass-kicking tripled.

  Steven’s eyes wandered down the skills to rest on FleshForge and Enchantrix. He made a fist with his left hand and felt his missing finger there. Could he regrow that finger? It seemed likely. And the things he could do with Enchantrix? He couldn’t wait. He just felt bad for Tessa, who wouldn’t be able to join him on the Mirror-Souled Path. If she couldn’t do IonClaws, she couldn’t do HeartStrike, and each skill built off the last. To make matters worse, Tessa had zero Pugna abilities.

  He would continue to master AnimusChain before he attempted FleshForge. Good thing the pinkie he was missing was on his left hand. If it had been his sword hand, that would’ve really messed with his swing.

  Aria drifted over. In her hands was the Dragonknight torch. On her neck was the burn of the XIII, white marks on her dark skin. She caught him looking and smiled. “You don’t get to call me Old Blood and Guts anymore. I have a new nickname, Thirteen.” She touched the upraised skin. Tessa had healed the burn right away.

  Steven caught her arm and pulled her over. He squeezed her skin playfully. “You will always be Aria Khat to me. Do you feel any different?”

  “I do not.” Aria paused, her brow furrowing. “Perhaps that is not quite right. I have dreams now, vivid dreams of the Dragonknights, of their battles and the good they did. They took wives, they built Aeries, they acquired riches, but that was not their main goal. They worked together to bring peace wherever they went. They stopped feuds. They helped widows, orphans, and the poor. It is very strange to think that eleven Dragonlords would ever agree to give up conquest like that.”

  “And Arthur led them?” Steven asked.

  The Indian woman’s eyes went far away. “Yes, he led the Dragonknights. They believed in him and his visions of a better world.”

  For a second, Steven longed for twelve Dragonlords to join his cause. He too wanted a better world.

  She blinked. “At times, at night, I feel like I’m casting Divination spells. It is very interesting, a tad frightening, but my heart remains unchanged. I serve you, my Prime.” She embraced him, and he held her for a minute.

  He enjoyed the musky cinnamon smell of her hair.

  He then pulled back. “Let me see the torch for a minute.”

  She gave it to him. Steven held it, and he cast an Incanto spell. The Elf Queen’s voice whispered across the ocean. “The lost son is found.”

  That was him. He was the lost son, and the thought made him feel both accepted by the world and justified.

  The torch came apart in his hands.

  When Aria saw the result, her smile widened.

  PRU SAT IN THE PASSENGER seat of the PTS amphibious vehicle while Chazzie sat behind the wheel, though they had stopped with the coast in the distance. The waves rose and fell around them, a gentle rocking motion.

  The PTS was a long beast, with jets for the water and tracks for the land, like a big ’ol tank that could float. On top of it, in the bed, was their Rat.


  Chazzie broke the silence. “How many generals did we have to screw to get Ducky?”

  “Sister, that sounds like the start of a bad joke.” Pru frowned then sighed. “How many generals do you have to fuck to get your hands on a Soviet-era amphibious vehicle? You don’t screw the brass, they screw you.”

  They had both the windows open, so they could smell the Pacific. It was a cloudy day in the SoCal Primacy, and the beach was empty, as were the waves. The strip of Thousand Steps Beach was also deserted under the houses on the cliffs. Pru knew why. Abner Savedra had made up some bullshit ecological disaster for the humans. He had very real cops keeping everyone away and had evacuated the houses. No use taking any chances of the humans seeing the battle.

  Dragonlords could do that kind of thing. Money and power, power and money and magic. The big dogs barked, and the little dogs wet themselves and scurried away.

  And if you thought those houses were empty, you’d be a fool. Roy Right’s coalition had loaded them full of troops.

  Steven and the others are almost ready to leave Catalina. Sabina’s voice drifted through Pru’s mind, which was damned unsettling. For one, she did not want anyone reading her thoughts, especially not Sabina. For two, they had cell phones. End of story.

  Sabina was flying above them, staying in the clouds, keeping watch. The Latina Magician had come back after going rogue. She’d taken a chance, but she hadn’t gone full Mouse. That was good. Still, super annoying that she’d gone to Izzy’s Deli on her own. She’d even called Javier Jones to make sure he wouldn’t show up.

  “I remember now.” Chazzie held up four fingers. “We slept with two American generals and two Russian ones. We didn’t know when we’d need Ducky, but we did know we’d need it at some point. Kudos to the U.S.S. Abraham Lincoln and Rear Admiral Simmons for making a little delivery.”

  “I remember sleeping with that admiral,” Pru said. “That was ten years ago. But wasn’t he a petty officer third class when we did it?”