Smoke (The Slayer Chronicles Book 1)

by Val St. Crowe

  I shoved it in my pocket. I could argue with him about it, but there really wasn’t time. If I tried to leave it here, he’d probably make a thing of it.

  Naelen looked completely flummoxed.

  Logan wiped his machete off on the plush couch. “One down,” he said. “Three to go.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  We all waited at the top of the stairs. Logan was first, his ear against the door, listening. He looked at us, holding up a finger.

  Naelen moved his machete to his other hand.

  I thought about trying to ditch the arrowhead while Logan wasn’t paying attention. But then I figured it wasn’t worth it. For better or worse, I had a dead vampire’s necklace.

  Sometimes Logan did crap like this, like taking jewelry off a dead body. It was macabre, and I wondered about him. I knew there was darkness in him, but sometimes it seemed to overshadow all of him. When I had told Naelen that things were complicated, I wasn’t exaggerating.

  But why was I thinking about this now?

  This was the worst time to be preoccupied with thoughts of the past. It would serve me right if someone sneaked up on me from behind while I was contemplating all of this.

  Just to be sure, I turned around to see if anyone was there.

  Empty staircase.

  I swallowed.

  “Let’s go,” Logan whispered, pushing open the door.

  Light spilled out as the door opened.

  It was bright, and my eyes weren’t ready for it. I looked away, flinging an arm up to protect my eyes.

  We stepped into a brightly lit kitchen. There was an island in the middle, pots and pans hanging above it on a rack. A sink and a stainless steel refrigerator at one end. Miles of counter space. A dishwasher chugging next to the sink. The place was spotless, current, and sleek.

  Logan dashed through the kitchen toward a darkened doorway.

  Naelen and I went after him.

  The minute we cleared the doorway, the first thing I saw was a chaise lounge covered in silk hangings. There was a girl sitting on it, wearing nothing but a small bikini. Her dark hair was up in a sloppy bun on her head. She had the vague look of the compelled in her eyes.

  And I recognized her.

  “Reign,” said Naelen, running to her.

  But Reign didn’t even look up at the sound of her own name. She just sat there, gazing blankly into space.

  Now, I could see that the room was far from empty. There were four or five other girls in here as well, all in bikinis, all dazed and out of it. Some of them were clutching towels. Maybe they were heading down to the pool for a swim.

  But if so, they weren’t doing it of their own volition.

  “Logan,” I said, “we need to get out of here.”

  Naelen had taken Reign by the shoulders. He was shaking her. “Snap out of it, sis. Come on!”

  Mara-or-Eloise didn’t have crazy compulsion, or she would have tried it on us. She had seen that Logan was a gargoyle, known it wouldn’t work on him, and skipped right to telekinesis. I was figuring that only Cunningham could compel magical creatures. He’d obviously compelled Reign there, and she was a dragon.

  So, if he’d compelled them, he was the one sending them to the pool.

  And that meant he’d be along shortly.

  “Get out of here?” said Logan.

  Naelen hauled his sister up, one arm braced under her shoulders, the other under her knees. Carrying her like a child, he started back towards the kitchen. “Let’s go.”

  Now, Reign seemed to wake up. “Where are you taking me?” She struggled in Naelen’s arms. “I can’t leave. He told me I can’t leave.”

  “We have three more vampires to kill,” said Logan.

  “That’s Naelen’s sister,” I said. “And she’s a dragon. She’s completely compelled. And Cunningham is on his way. He’s going to find us here, and then he’s going to compel us all.”

  Logan brandished his machete, turning in a circle, looking for Cunningham. “Damn it, Clarke, we can’t leave yet.”

  “We’ll come back,” I said.

  “We come back, we’ve lost the element of surprise,” he said. “Why aren’t you getting these girls out? That was your job, remember? Get the people out.”

  Reign was scratching Naelen’s face and trying her best to wriggle out of his grasp. “I can’t leave, I can’t leave!” she was saying.

  “Looks like it’ll be real easy to get them out, Logan,” I said.

  Naelen clubbed Reign over the head with the hilt of his machete.

  “Ow!” she shrieked.

  “What are you doing?” I said.

  “Trying to knock her unconscious,” he said. “They made it look so easy in the movies.”

  “Yeah, well, in real life—” I broke off, because Cunningham had just appeared behind Naelen. He was standing in the kitchen wearing only a pair of swimming trunks. His chest was dusky and tan and accented by flecks of dark curly hair. He fixed me with his gaze.

  I choked.

  “What?” said Naelen.

  “Have a seat,” said Cunningham to me.

  Oh, God, he was compelling me!

  Naelen turned at the voice.

  “Let go of the girl,” said Cunningham to Naelen.

  Naelen released Reign immediately.

  Logan let out a roar, rushing Cunningham with his machete held high over his head.

  “Stop moving,” said Cunningham to Logan.

  Logan froze.

  Strangely, though, I had yet to sit down.

  Cunningham noticed this at the same time as I did. He turned his gaze on me. “Sit down,” he thundered.

  I brandished my machete and ran for him.

  He threw out his hand and his magic slammed into me.

  And… I don’t know, I sort of… absorbed it? Nothing happened.

  Naelen raised his machete.

  “Drop it,” said Cunningham.

  Naelen’s machete clattered to the ground.

  I used the second when Cunningham wasn’t paying attention to me to hurl the machete at him. It soared through the air, end over end, tumbling in an arc…

  Man, throwing a machete was not like shooting arrows.

  And now that I’d thrown it, I wasn’t even sure what the point of that was. I couldn’t kill him unless I cut his head off and the chances of my cutting off his head by throwing the knife were—

  The machete buried itself in Cunningham’s shoulder.

  He bellowed in anger and pain. He pulled the machete out and stared at his own blood. “What are you?” He looked up at me.

  “I’m a dragon slayer,” I said. And then I dove for Naelen’s dropped machete.

  Cunningham pointed at it, raising it off the ground with magic.

  But I seized the hilt, and the minute I touched it, his magic seemed to fizzle out.

  Cunningham was bleeding from his shoulder. The blood was dripping down over his bare chest and onto his swimming trunks.

  I held out the machete. “Give us the girl.” I pointed at Reign.

  “I can’t leave,” said Reign, shaking her head.

  Cunningham laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous, dragon slayer.”

  “Okay,” I said, gesturing with the point of the machete. “Okay, then…” It was me and a machete against Cunningham. For some reason, his magic wasn’t working on me, but—

  “What’s going on?” said a male voice.

  I whirled. Another vampire in the doorway across the room. Probably Edmund Stevens or whatever his name was. Now, it was me against two vampires? I turned back to Cunningham. “How about this? We’re leaving.” I grabbed Naelen by the arm and pushed him until he thudded into Logan.

  “Yes,” said Cunningham, who was now clutching his bleeding shoulder. “Leave. Get out of my sight.”

  And Naelen and Logan started shuffling forward, heading out of the room. Cunningham had compelled them to leave, then.

  I went after them.

  “Remember that I have
given you this mercy,” Cunningham called after us. But there was note of panic to his voice, and I could tell that the fact that I wasn’t affected by his powers was freaking him out. Probably making him act erratically. Probably the only reason we were escaping with our lives.

  * * *

  “I can’t believe you just had us walk out of there,” said Logan. “You had him.”

  We were all three back in my hotel room.

  Naelen was sitting on the bed, head in his hands. “I had Reign in my arms, and I let her go. How did I let her go?”

  “Clarke, you stabbed Cunningham, and then you just gave up,” said Logan.

  “I was on my own against two vampires,” I said. “And I was pretty sure we were all going to die, so the fact that I got us out of their breathing should count for something.”

  Logan buried his hands in his hair. “What the hell happened?”

  “I told you he could compel us,” I said.

  “But how can he do that?” said Logan. “How the hell can he do that?”

  “What happened to Reign?” said Naelen. “How did she end up like that?”

  “It was like whatever came out of his mouth just seemed like a really good idea,” said Logan. “But deep down, I wanted to cut his head off.”

  “She must have been there the whole time,” said Naelen. “She’s under his thrall. And did you see how she was dressed? God, what is he doing to her in there?”

  “What about the fact that he couldn’t compel me?” I said. “Are we ignoring that?”

  They both turned to me, and they were both quiet.

  “Maybe it’s your talisman,” said Logan. “You’ve got a talisman. We don’t.”

  “This thing?” I pulled it out of my shirt from where it hung around my neck. Talismans needed to be touching skin to work. “It’s old, and it’s barely magical.”

  And then we all seemed to have the same thought at the same time.

  “The arrowhead,” I said, yanking it out of my pocket.

  Both of them pressed close.

  Logan took the arrowhead from me, turned it over in his hands. “This thing is gold.”

  “Let me see it,” said Naelen.

  Logan handed it over.

  Naelen ran his fingertip over it. “You’re right. It’s not made from any dragon parts that I can see.”

  I snatched the thing back. “Well, maybe inside it. If we crack it open?”

  “It’s solid,” said Naelen.

  Objects could not be imbued with magic. The only way to make magic was to make it from dragon parts. So, if this arrowhead didn’t come from a dragon in some way, shape, or form, then it wasn’t magic.

  “So, if it’s not magic, it can’t stop magic?” I said. “What if, um, what if it’s seeded with dragon sacrifice? Like the magical prisons? That would make it block magic right?”

  Naelen took it back from me. “It sucks magic out, actually, I think.” He looked uncomfortable. I guessed if the most powerful magic on earth came from ritually killing your kind, it might make you twitchy.

  “It’s a horrible, cold feeling,” said Logan.

  “You been in a magic prison?” said Naelen, eyeing him.

  Logan shrugged. “Once. I got out of it.”

  Huh. I hadn’t known that Logan had been locked up.

  “So, this isn’t dragon sacrifice?” I said.

  “No,” said Logan. “If it was, you’d feel it, Naelen. All the way down in your bones. Sucks you dry.”

  Naelen grimaced.

  “So, what is it?” I said.

  “It’s not the arrowhead,” said Logan. “It’s got to be you somehow.”

  “Me?” I said. “How could that be? If I could block magic, I would have been able to do it before. Besides, I couldn’t block that other vampire’s magic in the basement.”

  “Something about you and Cunningham, then,” said Logan.

  “That’s insane,” I said. “There’s nothing special about me.”

  “Now, that’s not true,” said Naelen.

  “Definitely not true,” said Logan.

  The two men glanced at each other and then away.

  “Whatever,” I said, rolling my eyes.

  “You’re… quite extraordinary,” said Naelen, and there was a little catch in his voice.

  I turned to him sharply.

  Logan did too. Then he looked at me. His nostrils flared.

  “I don’t have any magic,” I said.

  “Well, you have something,” said Naelen. “Must have. Why else would this be happening?”

  Logan shifted on his feet. “Look, you don’t really know anything about her.”

  Naelen raised his eyebrows. “I’ve been working with her for several days now, and—”

  “Days?” said Logan. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve known Clarke? I know her very well.”

  “Logan.” My voice was a warning.

  He ignored me. “You just march in here, throwing your money around and buying expensive bottles of wine, and then you can’t even— You completely abandoned the plan back there. You picked up your sister and—”

  “I’m here for Reign,” said Naelen. “If you think I’m not going to do everything in my power to—”

  “You shouldn’t… be here,” said Logan in a choked, agonized voice. His wings were trembling, a sure sign that he was losing control.

  “Logan, he’s the whole reason I’m here,” I said. “I’m working for him. That’s all.”

  “Right,” said Logan, and his wings shook harder. “That’s all. God damn it, Clarke, you can’t expect me to watch this.”

  “Watch what?” said Naelen, his lips curling into a smile.

  “Shut up,” Logan snarled, turning on Naelen.

  Naelen’s eyes flashed. “Careful, gargoyle. You might not want to provoke me.”

  “Oh? Why’s that? You think I can’t take you? Should I remind you that my species was created to fight off dragons?”

  “Stop it,” I said.

  Both of them looked at me.

  I walked over to Naelen and held out my hand. “Arrowhead.”

  He put it back in my hand.

  I shoved it in the pocket of my travel bag. “Maybe we should take a little break? Get some sleep. We’ll meet for breakfast in the morning.”

  “The morning?” said Logan.

  “Oh,” I said. How had I forgotten that Logan would be stone in the morning?

  “You know if you don’t want me around, I wish you’d say so,” Logan said, and his face twisted. He was hurt.

  I looked away. I couldn’t handle that expression of such naked pain. It hit me too, making it hard to catch my breath. But he had hurt me before, and I didn’t owe him anything.

  “Nothing? Really, Clarke?” said Logan. “Coward.”

  I looked up at him.

  He lifted his chin, glowering at me. Then he stalked out of the room.

  Naelen and I both watched him go.

  The door banged closed behind him.

  “Well,” said Naelen. “He obviously hasn’t gotten the message that things are over between you.”

  “Not for lack of my telling him,” I muttered.

  “I do still have those bottles of wine, if you—”

  “No,” I said. “You should go, too.”

  “Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to—”

  “I need to be alone.”

  * * *

  After they left, I paced the room for nearly a half an hour, going over everything that had happened. But I couldn’t figure out why I was so extraordinary to fight off Cunningham. I didn’t have any brainwaves, so eventually, I collapsed on my bed and turned on the TV.

  I flipped through the channels for a bit and finally settled on some ridiculous reality show about little girl gymnasts and their crazy mothers. I fell asleep watching it.

  When I woke up, the television was still on, but there was someone in the room with me.

  I felt under my pillow for the knif
e that I always kept there. With my hand around its reassuring hilt, I felt a little better.

  But I could see this dark shadow moving through the room. I could hear him breathing.

  He was turning off the television set. And he had… wings?

  “Logan?” I said in a sleep-ravaged voice.

  “Hey, Clarke,” he said. “Sorry to wake you.”

  “I nearly stabbed you.” I showed him my knife.

  “Sorry,” he said again.

  I flipped on the bedside lamp and sat up. “This is the worst booty call ever. And I’m not sleeping with you.”

  “That’s not why I’m here,” he said. But he sat down on the bed next to me and touched the sleeve of my nightshirt. “This the little t-shirt with the Smurfs on it?”

  “No,” I said, glaring at him.

  “I like that one. It’s see-through.”

  “Stop it, Logan. I mean it.”

  He rubbed his forehead. “Clarke, you can’t actually be into that rich pussy of a dragon.”

  “Hey,” I said. “It is offensive to use a name for female genitalia to imply that someone’s a wimp.”

  “Sorry,” he said again. “But he is a wimp.”

  “I don’t think he is. He’s just… not as experienced as us.”

  “Oh, come on, Clarke, you prefer him to me?”

  “No,” I said. “I’m not into him. Nothing is going on between Naelen and me.”

  “Well, I don’t think he got the memo, because the way he looks at you…”

  “That’s just the way he is. He flirts with anything female. It’s nothing. It means nothing.”

  “Something’s changed,” he said, and he got that hurt look again. “Something’s different between us.”

  “You’re not even supposed to be here.” I glared at him. “You wormed your way into this job—”

  “I just helped you find the damned girl you were looking for,” he said.

  “That was a lucky coincidence,” I said. Although, really, we were idiots for not having seen it. Ronan Cunningham was obviously the Ronald-or-something that had thrown the party that Reign had gone to. And people had seen her around town as one of his compelled drones. She had never been a rogue—or even in danger of becoming one. We’d been completely off base. “And anyway, we found her, but we can’t get to her.”

  “Well, that’s why I’m here.”