Malcolm listened, half-amused, imagining Saba's outrage if she learned what ruthless matchmaking Ming Ue was performing behind her back. But it would be necessary to save his life.
Malcolm finished the tea and all of the dumplings Shaiming had brought for him, then rose to leave, he and Ming Ue exchanging formal phrases of departure. He made his way back to Sacramento street and the bicycle shop, reflecting with surprise how much he'd missed tea and dim sum.
Lumi seemed more resigned to see him this time, accepting his role again as one of Malcolm's minions, though he did not look entirely happy about it. Malcolm waited in the back room while Lumi talked to a customer who wanted a bicycle for his daughter. After Lumi made the sale and unlocked the bicycle for the man, he pulled down the shade on the door and flipped his cardboard sign around to read "Closed."
"I have a friend who agreed to meet us at a bar nearby." he told Malcolm. "It's not exactly in a good neighborhood, so be careful. My friend, he's kind of an expert at any strange shit that goes on in San Francisco. I mean really strange shit. It happens; he knows about it."
"I assume he's dangerous," Malcolm said.
"Well, yeah," Lumi said, then locked up his shop and led him away.
They walked through Chinatown, Lumi greeting friends and fellow shop owners, then they crossed Bush Street and headed several blocks west and south into the Tenderloin. They moved down unmarked alleys, dark and dismal, not the tourist San Francisco by any stretch of the imagination. Tourists finding themselves back here would swallow hard and charge back to the main streets, desperately seeking the happy clang of cable cars.
Malcolm followed Lumi without worry, his black dragon magic encircling them like a net to keep any predators out. The bar was housed in an unprepossessing building with a long old-fashioned glass and wooden front door. The paint on the wooden frame was peeling and a dispirited-looking homeless man with a dirty face sat with his back against the bricks a few feet down.
Inside it was nothing special, just a long room with an ordinary-looking bar on one side, a few chairs and tables on the other, and three pool tables in the back. It was early afternoon in the city and the only occupants were the bartender, two bikers playing pool, and a heavily muscled Japanese man sitting at the bar.
Lumi led Malcolm to the Japanese man. He wore a black leather coat that creaked as he lifted his beer bottle to his lips and had black hair that he'd gathered in a short ponytail. He looked to be in his thirties, his face unlined but hard as though he'd seen much. His almond-shaped brown eyes flicked over Lumi and Malcolm without much interest, but he indicated with his bottle that the two should join him.
Malcolm took a seat on the man's left, and Lumi hoisted himself on a barstool on his right. Malcolm ordered himself a beer and told the bartender to bring another for the man between them. Lumi stuck with soda water.
The man acknowledged Malcolm's generosity with a dip of his head when the bartender brought the drinks.
"Thanks for meeting me," Lumi said to him, watching bubbles dance in his glass. He cast a nervous glance at the bikers, who were leaning on cues, watching them.
The Japanese man smiled, showing a mouthful of unusually pointed teeth. "It's my pleasure. Don't worry about them, my friend. No will bother us. No one ever bothers me, they know better."
Yakuza, perhaps, Malcolm thought, thinking of the organization of Japanese gangsters, then the next moment realized, No. Not Yakuza.
"You are not human at all," Malcolm said once the bartender had moved off. "You smell wrong."
"Nice to meet you, too," the man said, still wearing the pointed-toothed smile. "Call me… an imp. I'd show you my true form, but I'd scare the piss out of everyone, including you."
"I doubt it," Malcolm said smoothly. He took a sip of beer, liking the cold bite on his throat. "I'm a dragon."
The imp's eyes widened. "Swear to the gods?" He looked Malcolm up and down. "True, you don't smell human either. Poor Lumi, stuck with a pair of stinky paranormals."
"You can call me Malcolm," Malcolm said, ignoring his joke.
"My name's Axel." The man thrust out a hand and caught Malcolm's in a rock-firm grip. "It isn't really, but that's what everyone calls me, and it's good enough. Lumi says you're looking for something. If it's supernatural and in San Francisco, I know about it. It's not always safe knowledge, if you know what I mean, but I can be pretty ferocious." He winked.
The man was about six feet tall, below Malcolm's height and not as bulky as Malcolm, but he did have a quiet menace that would keep any but the most determined away from him. Unfortunately, a white dragon would be determined.
"I'm looking for a witch," Malcolm said.
Axel grinned again. "Hey, you want a psychic reading or a love spell, you can look that up in the phone book."
"A specific witch," Malcolm explained. "I don't know who she is, but she'd have been working some particularly powerful magic lately, as large as creating a door to another world and bringing a creature through."
Axel's smile vanished. "As big as that?" He took a thoughtful swig of beer. "You know, I just might be able to help you out."
"You know who it is?"
"Let's just say I know someone it's likely to be. And if she didn't do it, she'll know who did. She's a slip of a thing, but she's a high-powered witch who can knock you across the room if she doesn't like you."
"Did you find that out the hard way?" Lumi asked from his other side.
Axel burst into laughter. "No, but I was there to see it. Everyone likes me."
"You're an imp," Malcolm said dryly. "One step removed from a demon."
Axel shrugged. "There are demons, and there are demons. Even kittens like me."
"Even though your true form would scare the piss out of me," Malcolm noted dryly.
"Beauty is skin deep." Axel grinned again and switched back to the subject. "This witch, just so happens she's having a party tonight. That's not such a coincidence—she has parties every other night because she's rolling in cash and has questionable friends. Why don't you come along and meet her? Bring somebody. Lumi and I will pick you up, and you'll go in with me. It's invite only."
Malcolm assessed the man, who looked back at him with an ingenuousness that didn't seem feigned. "Why are you so eager to help?" he asked.
Axel shrugged again. "Any friend of Lumi's…"
"… that he brings to this place is probably trouble," Malcolm finished for him. "You don't know me, and you're offering to take me to meet a high-powered witch right off the bat. What aren't you telling me?"
Axel drank in silence then carefully set his bottle on the bar. "I'm helping because you're a dragon. A black dragon, if I have you right, which means you could squash me like a bug if you wanted to. I figure whatever can worry a black dragon can't be good. If something's going down, I want to know about it so I can make sure I'm on the right side."
Malcolm watched him. "How do you know which is the right side?"
"The black dragon's side is always the right side," Axel said with a shrug. "Everyone knows that. Anyone stupid enough to pit themselves against a black dragon is going down hard. I don't want to go down hard."
"You flatter me," Malcolm said dryly.
"Not flattery. Truth. I know what I'm talking about." Axel took a last swallow of beer. "I'll get you in to see this witch, and we'll go from there."
"And what do you want in return?"
The imp blinked carefully as though it had never occurred to him to ask for payment. "Let's just say I like excitement. A good fight, stomp some evil ass, and I'm happy."
"There might be more to it than a simple fight."
Axel's smile vanished, and something ancient and strong flickered in his eyes. "Don't worry about me, black dragon. You wouldn't believe some of the things I've faced, worse than the strongest dragon or witch or most hideous demon. I've survived things that no one but me would be able to survive, not even you. So count me in."
Malcolm sent a few experim
ental wisps of dragon thought toward him then blenched when he encountered a mind completely alien to anything he'd ever found. The mind was complex and strong, and whether or not it was evil Malcolm could not determine.
Axel grinned suddenly and called out to the bartender to bring them another round, on him this time. He looked completely normal, but then again, he didn't. Malcolm decided to accept Axel's help but to watch him very carefully.
* * *
Chapter 4
Malcolm was waiting for Saba when she exited her building just after five, drained from fighting databases, worrying about the white dragon and the e-mail she'd received, and trying to keep her erotic thoughts of Malcolm at bay. She gave up on the last when she saw Malcolm lounging not far from the front door, talking to a couple of homeless men who sprawled on the sidewalk at his feet.
Malcolm looked up as though he sensed her, his gaze burning her all the way down the street. He was a fine specimen of a man, six and a half feet of raw male sensuality. He'd tamed his dark hair into a tail that hung down his back, but that was the only thing tame about him. Malcolm could seem calm and contained, but when the dragon instinct took over he could be lethal in a frightening and precise way.
Malcolm moved down the sidewalk a little and when she drew near, he took her into the circle of his arms. The feeling of his body against hers enflamed the rampant sexual thoughts she'd harbored all day.
"Saba, this is Wallace and Pete," Malcolm said. The two men looked very much alike with unwashed, unshaved faces, and tattered coats but they watched her with interest. "Do not be alarmed if you see them behind you—consider them your guardian angels when you are in this part of town. They belong to me now and will guard you when you leave your building and I am not with you."
Wallace and Pete nodded and smiled, and she sensed the dark web of Malcolm's thoughts twining theirs.
"Um, Malcolm," Saba began.
Ignoring her, Malcolm bade the two men good night and tucked Saba's arm in his as he moved with her up the street toward the bus and cable car stops.
"Malcolm." She pulled away from him, both in annoyance and because it was easier to talk when he wasn't touching her. "You can't go around the city putting your mark on everyone you see."
His brows quirked. "Why not? It served me well in the past, and you can be sure that if I do not, the white dragon will." He glanced back at Pete and Wallace who were deep in conversation. "And with my mark on them, they will no longer depend on the alcohol that keeps them from finding work or returning to their previous lives. Pete has a wife and two children, estranged because of his affliction."
"Oh."
"They will keep an eye on you when I can't and report to me." Malcolm eyed the traffic and the crawling buses stopping for loads of people at the end of the block. "It will be faster to take a taxi home. We will be going to a party tonight to meet someone who might be able to tell us the white dragon's plans."
"We are? Whose party?"
"I do not know her. Lumi introduced me to one of his friends, and the friend will take us to see her."
Saba stopped walking. He was doing it again, charging into her life, rearranging things without so much as asking her, not to mention being damn sexy while he did it. "Maybe I already had plans for tonight. Did you think of that?"
His gaze was unreadable. "Do you have plans?"
She flushed. "Well, no, but that's not the point. What if I did?"
"Then you would have to cancel them. This is important."
She bit back frustrated words. Malcolm had a way of turning everything to his purpose, and she knew she wouldn't win, at least not at the moment. Besides, she wanted to find out what was going on with this white dragon herself and find a way to make him stop stalking her.
"He sent me an e-mail," she said. "The white dragon, I mean."
Malcolm looked at her sharply. She told him what it said and watched Malcolm's mouth draw to a grim line.
"Then the white dragon has returned to this world," he said. He took a step closer to her, his male warmth moving over her despite the sharp winter wind. "But you do not need to be frightened, my Saba."
"Because you're here to protect me?"
"Yes."
Completely calm, utterly convinced of his own power. The trouble was, Malcolm really did have that kind of power.
The temptation to slide her arms inside his coat and hold onto him was great, so she started walking again, looking longingly at Sylvia's as she went by. A double latte, two shots of espresso and lots of cream, sounded good about now. "I called Caleb and told him what was going on. He said white dragons were evil."
"Indeed. Cruel and utterly ruthless."
"But that's what I've heard about black dragons," Saba pointed out. She jammed her hands into her raincoat pockets and gave him a sideways look. He walked along, his long leather coat open, the wind lifting the silken threads of his black hair.
"Black dragons may seem that way to others, who do not understand them," he responded. "White dragons have no deeper purpose."
"None at all?"
"No. They exist to eat and fight and mate. They have no other thought processes."
"I see." The conceit level in all dragons was high, never mind what kind they were. She refrained from pointing out his obvious prejudice and turned to their immediate concern. "So, who is this woman we're going to see tonight?"
"Either the witch who brought the white dragon here or one who potentially knows who did. It will be a good thing to speak with her."
Saba couldn't deny that, so she stopped arguing in spite of her annoyance at him arranging her life. Malcolm stepped to the curb and raised a hand to flag down a taxi.
Saba never had luck getting taxis in this part of town, but Malcolm's dragon magic brought two cabs fighting to get to the curb first. Malcolm took the one that zoomed in to cut off the other, waved off the fuming cabby behind the wheel of the second, and ushered Saba into the car.
"By the way," she said as the cab sped into traffic, "you never told me the second reason you'd come back. How long are you going to keep me in suspense?"
Malcolm's eyes went enigmatic again, and she knew he would not tell her the whole reason.
"I want you to do a spell for me," he answered in a low voice.
He was sitting far too close to her. The back seat of the cab was plenty wide, but Malcolm's leg pressed the length of hers, and he laid his arm across the back of the seat, enclosing her in his embrace. He was warm, hard-bodied, and smelled nice, and he had her turned on so much it was almost painful. She pressed her legs together, trying to contain herself. "Could you be more specific?" she babbled at him. "What kind of spell?"
"A locator spell."
She waited, but nothing more came. "Any decent witch can do a locator spell," she said, trying to remain sensible. "You don't need me specifically for that."
"For this, I do."
Now he had her curious. She started to ask him to elaborate, but he indicated the listening driver and shook his head. "We will discuss it later."
Saba had to live with that, because he wouldn't say any more—about anything—for the rest of the drive home. Nor did he kiss her or hold her or do anything to relieve the heat that was melting her from the inside out. She could only fold her arms and be annoyed at herself, and him.
Malcolm readied himself more quickly than Saba and waited for her in the living room of the apartment. As he'd noticed last night, Saba had kept the place mostly the same, not replacing the square, Mission-style furniture he'd purchased for it. But she'd added touches of femininity like brocade pillows on the sofa, a bowl of silk flowers on the mantelpiece, and Japanese scroll paintings of pleasant simplicity.
Two of the paintings contained the snow-covered cone of Mount Fuji, and the third was of a black dragon crouched with a ball between its great paws, a look of ferocious concentration on its face. The background was nothing more than a few suggestive strokes, giving the dragon center space. Malcolm studi
ed the picture for a few moments, amused that she'd chosen a black dragon to adorn the room.
She'd looked at him in vast irritation last night and today made no secret that she was angry he'd come back. He knew she wanted him physically, he'd learned to read the signs during his last visit, but she had not asked him for pleasure, and pretty much had told him she would be glad to see him go again. But then, she'd hung this black dragon painting in her living room, perhaps as a reminder of him. He meant something to her. That was very important.
Saba's voice floated out of the bedroom. "All right, I'm ready. Where did I put my purse?"
She scuttled into the living room, and Malcolm turned from the paintings to appreciate the artwork that was Saba. She'd chosen a minute black dress with an off-the-shoulder neckline that bared the soft half-moons of her breasts. The short skirt emphasized her shapely legs in black lace-patterned stockings. For jewelry, she wore simple silver earrings and a pendant of a Celtic design with a tiny pentacle and an amethyst in its middle.
She was still in stocking-feet, searching the room for her purse and shoes. Malcolm moved to her as she straightened up from looking behind pillows on the sofa and slid his arms around her waist from behind.
"You look good enough to eat," he murmured, liking the just-shampooed scent of her hair.
She jumped, her brown eyes holding a mixture of anger, longing, and even fear. But not fear of him—fear of herself and her reaction to him.
"Why do you say things like that?" she demanded.
"Because they are true."
Her eyes darkened. Under her dress her nipples had become hard little points, and he stroked one with his thumb.
Without moving, she asked, "Why did you come back, Malcolm?"
"I've told you."
"No, you haven't. You've taken over again, and I'm letting you."
"Are you letting me?" It didn't seem to Malcolm that she had welcomed him with open arms. During Malcolm's last visit, Saba had yielded to him almost easily, opening like a flower, letting him bring her powers and her desires to life. This time she held him at arm's length, and for the first time in his dragon life, someone else's reaction to him bothered him.
The Black Dragon Page 5