by Chloe Adler
“That’ll put anyone on the ground for a while,” he assured me.
At my gasp, he added, “No, they may not be able to have babies later but would you want a bad guy as a father?”
I shook my head. I’ve already watched Burgundy struggle with that. But I’m still shaky at the thought of any permanent destruction.
He chuckled. “The groin twist won’t kill them, Iph.”
Now it’s time to practice what I’ve learned on him. Gulp.
“Try the foot stomp on my foot—just the movement,” Rhys says. “Don’t use your full strength.”
I gear myself up and tap my heel on the top of his booted foot, holding back. After a few times, he removes his boot and places it down in the grass.
“Now full force on the top of the boot.”
I thump his shoe but he clucks at me, shaking his head.
“Harder, Iphigenia. Like your life depends on it.”
I try over and over again. The last time I practically fall and he has to catch me.
“One more time,” he says, righting me.
Shaking my head, I sigh. “I’m tired. Can we go back inside for a bit?” I hadn’t realized how intense Rhys could be in his element.
He checks his watch and nods, then juts his chin back toward the tiny house I’ve started thinking of as the Palace. “Wait for us inside. I need to talk to Thorn.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Rhys
When Iphigenia is safely out of earshot, I motion for Thorn to follow me into my house, the Cliff.
The house I’ve chosen mixes modern architecture with wood and chrome. The hard angles give it the feel of jutting out over a bluff, minus the actual bluff. It’s the smaller of the two modern-style homes in the Grove, but the white and blond wood make it appear larger. The palatial wooden porch that juts off one side is the perfect spot to invite everyone over to enjoy our morning coffee.
The wood on the inside is stained gray, making everything clean and expansive. Retreating to the open living room, Thorn perches on my glass coffee table.
“Look, man, I know you’re the one who’s used to giving orders but at this point you can’t so . . .”
He bows his head.
“You’ll defer to me for now?”
He huffs smoke from his nostrils, which I take as a yes.
“Good. Well I’m sure I don’t need to tell you this but you need to stay with her at all times.” He inclines his head. “No bathroom breaks, no food breaks, nothing. Get it?”
He opens his mouth and lets out a tiny stream of fire. I jump back and hold up my hands.
I’m pushing my authority here, but really, what choice do I have? Someone’s got to step up and I’m second in command. If Thorn remains a dragon for much longer, we’re going to have to figure out a safer way for him to communicate.
“I don’t know how long we can hold Sheldon off. He’s agreed to grant you a leave of absence but only for a week. I may be able to get him to go for another one, but that’ll be pushing it. More likely he’ll want you to come in and work cases as a dragon but that will leave Iphi unprotected.”
I walk to the kitchen and pour a cup of water, making sure to use glass instead of plastic—images of burnt plastic splattered across his face make me shudder. I place the cup in front of him on the table. Thorn buries his nose inside the glass, unable to open his mouth, and if the situation weren’t so dire, I’d burst out laughing. Pouring him some more water into a glass mixing bowl, I try again and this time he laps at it like a dog.
“Maybe this is a good thing. As a dragon, you’ll be able to stay with her at all times and protect her. I think she has the basic moves to defend herself and I’ll continue training her, but I don’t think she has the heart to actually use them.”
Thorn looks up at me, blinking slowly, and the red of his head shimmers, almost like he’s going to shift, except he can’t.
“She’s the reason my brother is even coherent now and he seems to want to fight whatever has a hold on him. Iphi is responsible for all of that. She may very well be his savior.”
Thorn flies to my shoulder and I move outside with him to sit on the wide porch in the sunlight for a few minutes.
“All right, let’s work together to keep our girl safe.”
Thorn jumps down to stretch out on the sun-heated wooden slats. And even though he can’t respond, he’s a good listener.
“I wish I knew exactly what happened to Nolan. I don’t accept that he went mad or chose to be evil. He’s still my brother. Remember how he was angry most of the time we were living on the streets? I think he blamed me for moving us onto the streets with you. He was just too young to understand that Carter’s mother didn’t want us there.”
Thorn tilts his head, planting one of those intense eyes on me.
“And then he just kept pulling farther and farther away, from all of us. But he was never a horrible person. Just confused with unhealed wounds.”
Thorn stands and paces along the porch, stretching his wings in the sun.
“I don’t know, buddy.” I run my fingers through my hair. “He’s threatening our woman. I can’t help but want to stick close, even though it would appear she’s got this.”
He opens his mouth as if to add something—more flame, I guess—but closes it instead.
“Thanks for not torching my house.” He puffs smoke in reply. If he keeps this up, maybe he can learn to puff rings or something. Morse code. Sign language? Wait, no opposable thumbs, dammit. “Seriously though, man. Iphi. She’s a light bearer.”
He tilts his head down, agreeing with me.
“If she can save Nolan, well. Then she can do anything.”
Thorn hops up on my knee, nodding furiously.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Iphigenia
I miss the guys but I’m glad that Thorn’s hanging out with me at the Palace tonight. I make us some dinner and then do my best impression of a slug, lying on the couch and reading a book, waiting for either the guys to return or sleep to claim me. Thorn is curled at my side.
My lazy evening is interrupted when the lights in my house flicker out. I leap off the couch and smack into the coffee table. Thorn lights the room with a tiny stream of fire, which casts long shadows on the walls of the cramped quarters.
Someone is breathing and it’s not either one of us.
“Hello?” I back into the nearest wall, and Thorn’s head darts left and right, his fire trailing around the room and singeing the walls.
“Thorn, careful,” I hiss.
Something drops in the kitchen, and when Thorn turns toward the noise, Nolan appears, holding a large staff. I shiver at the sight. Father carried a staff very much like it for the Scrim before disappearing into another realm.
“Nolan? What are you doing?”
“What needs to be done,” says a voice that’s not Nolan’s, despite coming from his mouth.
Thorn takes to the air, lunging toward him, his mouth open, flames spewing. Nolan slams the staff on the floor once, hard, and Thorn crashes to the floor. A thud reverberates through the tiny home and the lights flicker back on.
I rush to Thorn and scoop up his inert form, pressing my lips to his chest, which still rises and falls. Thankfully, he’s not dead. I place him on the couch and turn to face my unwanted guest, firming my stance the way Rhys taught me only a few hours earlier.
Nolan’s movements are jerky as he staggers toward me. His eyes are vacant, and judging from the voice, he’s being manipulated by the other thing again, the Puppet Master.
“Who are you?”
“Nice try.” He lunges for me and I throw down a foot stomp as hard as I can on the top of the vampire’s foot. The thing crumbles before me, howling in pain.
I grab Thorn and run to the front door.
“Iphi, wait, please!” a teary Nolan calls out from the floor.
I stop and turn back around. Why do I feel so sorry for him? My empathy is going to be the death of me, but
it allows me clarity at moments like this. The Puppet Master has fled, for now.
“Help me,” he pleads.
He’s like a lost puppy who can’t do anything other than his master’s bidding, even when he doesn’t want to. I can relate. “What can I do? How can I help you?”
“Witch cast a spell?”
I could, but we’re talking about an off-the-book spell right now. “Maybe. But why are you turning innocent humans into vampires?” I walk backward to the loft and climb up the ladder with one arm, Thorn under the other. Once I place him on the bed out of harm’s way, I back down again.
Nolan gulps air. “Not vampires. Something much, much worse. Master makes me do it. Master wants his army.”
“Who is your master, Nolan?”
“Can’t say. Can’t say. Can’t say!”
His body twitches and writhes, his head jerking left, then right. “He won’t like it. Won’t like. Won’t let. Me out.”
Rhys
The last thing I wanted was to leave Iphigenia alone at the Grove all night. Thankfully, Thorn is there to watch and help her if needed. And though I doubt she could ever actually hurt anyone using the techniques I’ve shown her, it still took the edge off my worry and allowed me to focus on teaching.
The girls at the vectum tonight were eager to learn. For this class, I’m focusing on jujitsu, helpful for those who face weaponless opponents, such as vampires.
It’s a good crop, ten students with a few martial arts classes under their belts already, all happy to rumble in the garage-turned-gym. Janice has covered it in floor mats and turned it into a teaching arena for her employees, and I’ve been teaching classes here for a few weeks now. I’m hoping she’ll put in a good word for me with Sheldon. After just a few weeks here, the Edge already feels like home, and my cousins agree. Time to put down some roots.
So between Sheldon and Janice, I’m hoping to get the kind of exposure I need to convince a bank to loan me some start-up capital, find a space to rent, and get my dojo going. Even after just a month here, it’s clear the Edge has gone through some tough times lately, what with the Trackers stirring up trouble in town last year and a rash of disappearances among the humans the year before that. Sheldon practically hired Dom, Caspian, and Thorn over the phone, the PD is so short on manpower. Sad to say, but this is a town with a lot of demand for self-defense education.
Most of the women in this class are young, in their early twenties. When you’re teaching self-defense, women in particular feel vulnerable. They also have to come to terms, psychologically, with the fact that they’re being taught how to hurt or kill someone. For many, that’s more difficult than learning the moves, and several students are still clearly uncomfortable with the ferocity required, even after three classes.
After the session, I busy myself packing up, eager to get home and make sure Thorn has kept Iphi safe all night. But even though I want to run out the door as soon as class has ended, I stick around in case anyone has an issue they couldn’t broach in front of the class.
“Rhys?” Sure enough, one of the younger girls who remained after class to help me clean up has something on her mind.
“Yes, Rose?” Her face flushes a color not dissimilar to her name. Crap. I’m afraid I know exactly what Rose’s “issue” is.
“Have y-you . . .” She looks up at the clock mounted on the wall. I follow her gaze. It’s late, a little after midnight. “H-have you ever had to hurt someone?”
I stifle a sigh of relief. “I have and you will be able to as well, but hopefully you’ll never find yourself in a position where that’ll be tested.”
She nods and looks away.
I turn back to the closet and finish putting everything away.
“Rhys?”
“Yeah, Rose?”
“Could I get a ride home? I’m not too far from here.”
I want to say no so I can return to Iphi sooner, but there is no way I’m letting this girl walk home alone at this time of night, especially since there are baddies running around town.
“Sure, let’s go.” I wait until she exits and then turn off the lights, lock the door, and follow her to my car, careful to keep some space between us.
I open the passenger door for her and she looks up at me under her lashes as she slides in.
She buckles herself in and then licks her lips. Her perfume, thick and cloying in such a confined space, makes my eyes water.
I roll down my window. “Where do you live?”
“In that orange apartment complex near Plum Street. You know it?”
“I do.”
We drive there in silence and a few minutes later I pull up in front of her building.
“Do you mind walking me to the door?” She looks out the window nervously.
I bite my tongue, stuffing down my first response. “Of course.” It’s not Rose’s fault that I’m worried about my own girl and not her.
On autopilot, I exit the car and walk around to open her door. Once outside, she throws her arms around my neck and pushes her body against mine. Her perfume was bad enough in the car; now it’s climbing up into my nostrils like kudzu. She turns her face toward mine, heading in for a kiss. I turn aside so she merely swipes my cheek, then wrap my hands around her wrists to open her arms and twist out of her grasp.
“Rose, I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong idea. That wasn’t my intention.”
The girl lets out a small hiccough, her face crumpling and reddening at the same time. She looks down and kicks at something invisible on the ground. “Well, she’s a very lucky girl.” She turns, firms her shoulders, and walks toward her house. At her front door, with her back to me, she calls out, “I hope she knows that.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Iphigenia
After Nolan has calmed down and returned to a quasi-normal state, I sit him on a chair in the center of the living room. I put all the gathered herbs and implements I can think of for the spell on a side table in front of him. Mother packed my candles and athame. Proof she doesn’t hate me?
I don’t believe he could or would hurt me, even with his master pulling his strings. But I do know that going behind the men’s backs and doing what I think is right could hurt them emotionally. I hope that after they see the results, they’ll understand. I have to try. Another lost puppy needs my help.
The vampire’s eyes grow big. He looks a lot younger than his appearance would suggest. His brown eyes are a shade or two lighter in the dim light and I suddenly have the urge to take him in my arms and promise him that everything will work out.
Instead, I light the four candles in the four directions, drawing the circle and closing it around us. I light another candle in the center, open up a clean piece of cheesecloth, and begin adding pinches of each herb. First I use my favorite protection herbs. Althea for protection from psychic powers. Juniper berries for self-defense and exorcism. Honeysuckle, frankincense, and euphorbia. One pinch of each goes onto the cheesecloth and another into the flame. Throughout the ritual I chant for his protection and freedom from his master’s influence. “Praesidium. Praesidii Nolan. Et psychica de necessitudines Nolana est dominus disrupti sunt.”
When the amulet’s contents are assembled, I gather the edges of the cheesecloth, attach some string, and place it around Nolan’s neck, continuing to chant throughout. Then I ask him to repeat the words after me before beginning my binding chant.
“Aliquis concutiens ex. For the greater good of all beings, the inhabitants of Distant Edge and Nolan, let this protection spell free him from his master’s hold.” The protection bundle he wears is knotted and tied so its contents will stay together. With the words focusing my power and its contents focusing my intent, I bind the spell into existence for now and always. “By the power of three times three, so mote it be.”
Nolan’s body shakes and convulses in the chair. No wait, it’s not Nolan shaking, it’s the chair.
“Hold on to the arms, Nolan. Wait it out, don’t get up yet.
”
He’s writhing in pain now, too, like he’s being shaken by an external force, but he holds on while the chair bucks beneath him.
Once it stops, I blow out the candles, open the circle, and turn on a floor lamp in the living room. The eerie cast to Nolan’s face is gone. His scars remain but they’ve lightened, become less pronounced. Even his hair is different, a thick, lustrous brown, shining with health. If I didn’t know this was Nolan, I’d think he was an entirely different person.
“You can’t take off the amulet if you want to stay protected. Understand?”
He nods.
“You also have to stop drinking from anyone.” I think of my poor neighbor, wasting away after his bite. I can’t take the risk that Nolan might be . . . changing humans somehow. Turning them into some sick mockery of vampirism. He’s going vegan until I can figure out if he’s changing humans because of a spell cast by his master or because there’s something wrong with him, some virus or anomaly.
“How am I supposed to eat?”
“We’ll figure it out. I know someone at a vectum.”
He looks away and offers a small nod.
“Good, then it’s understood?”
“Why are you doing this for me? I know you have a huge heart but this . . . This is hard to believe.”
“No ulterior motives here.” I put my hand on my chest. “My reward is helping someone in need. That’s what I do. It’s who I am.”
“Are you Florence Nightingale or Mother Teresa?”
The snide response irks me. “I just like helping others, okay?”
“I’m sorry, Iphigenia. It’s just, no one’s really helped me before.”
I can’t help but soften. “Well, someone is now, so please abide by the rules if you want to remain your own free agent. All right?”