"You shouldn't touch her," Saba said quickly as Malcolm leaned over the body and put his fingertips on her forehead, "You'll leave your DNA all over the place."
"Dragon DNA is different from a human's," he said absently. "They'll think the test is wrong."
"Then you'll contaminate the rest of the DNA evidence. I'd like to get Lumi home—I don't want to explain to Ming Ue what he was doing here."
"I will not take long."
Still speaking in a detached tone, Malcolm walked around the witch's body and touched a ring on her finger. Saba heard Malcolm whisper, saw a thread of his magic drift through the dead woman. A wisp of blackness, inky like tar smoke, rose from the witch and swirled through the window into the night.
Malcolm returned to Saba, his expression unreadable. "I will not contaminate the evidence if another dragon murdered her, which is what I believe happened. She's been dead a day or two. And yesterday evening the white dragon cornered you and tried to force you to work for him. I believe we've determined why."
"He killed the witch who brought him here," Saba said, studying the poor young woman's lifeless eyes. "So he needed another witch. I wish I knew who she was, and why she thought she could handle a dragon."
"Her name was Rhoda." He turned an ironic gaze on her. "Are dragons difficult to handle?"
"Immensely. How do you know what her name was? Did Axel tell you?"
"It was in her mind, still imprinted there. Our name, our true name, is one of the first things we learn and one of the last things we forget."
"I didn't know that."
Malcolm took her hand, the warmth of his touch relaxing her a little. He drew Saba into the stairwell and closed the door so she could no longer see the pathetic young woman.
"When I put my mark on you," he said in a low voice, "I twined my magic around your true name, around the truth of you. Your true name is your essence, and can be used to work great magic."
"And humans have this true name, too? How did you learn mine?"
"I learned it when I marked you last year, and you were too weak to resist. Humans rarely protect their true names, because they know so little about its magic. The white dragon couldn't learn yours, because you now can resist a dragon mark."
"Good thing." She felt cold, wondering what else about name binding she didn't know.
"Anyone with knowledge of your true name holds absolute power over you," Malcolm said softly. "They do not need even to be near you to use it."
"Best not tell anyone what it is, then," Saba said.
"I agree."
She gazed at him in the darkness, at the glitter of his eyes in shadow. In those shadows she saw the imprint of what he truly was, the black dragon, strong and alien, the hint of a long, cruel face and powerful body, vastly magical.
She again wanted to ask what he meant by him wanting her to help him find his mate. Finding one's "true" mate was for fairy tales and romances, but then again, wasn't he a beast from fairy tales? Folk tales often imparted truth most people didn't want to know.
She suddenly wanted to be away from here with him, not standing in an inky stairwell in a house she never wanted to see again, a dead witch in a tower room and dark magic floating around. She wanted to be back in her protected apartment on Octavia Street where Malcolm's magic and hers intertwined in the wards.
Malcolm traced her cheek, blunt fingertips finding the hollows of her face, the tenderness of the caress incongruous with his strength. He pulled his fingers down the cleavage bared by her neckline, his touch like a streak of fire. He remained like that for a moment, touching her lightly and in complete silence.
He stood on the stair below her, and even then she had to raise on tiptoes to kiss him. She took comfort in the kiss, the fear of the dark magic and the shock of discovering Rhoda's body easing under Malcolm's mouth.
She relaxed against him, the fuzziness in her mind telling her he was protecting her again, both from physical and emotional trauma. He knew how to do that.
Of course Malcolm had to protect her from trauma, she thought, because trauma always occurred when he was around. She smiled as the kiss came to an end.
"Now I know you're really back," she said.
He tilted his head to one side, giving her his dragon stare. "I have been here since last night."
She laughed and kissed the tip of his nose. "That isn't what I meant."
He studied her in the darkness—she knew his dragon sight could make out every feature. She'd felt him jump when she gave him the light, playful kiss on his nose. Malcolm was still uneasy with casual intimacy. He might say he wanted to pleasure her, he might have accepted her touching him, but he liked to be in control.
Saba kissed him again, another light touch that people in love might share. "We should go down," she whispered.
Malcolm waited a long moment, breath hot on her face, hand on the curve of her waist. He said nothing, made no reaction, and even with his thought threads touching her, it was impossible to know what he was truly thinking.
Without speaking, Malcolm slid his hand through hers and led her down the stairs.
Lumi waited at his car outside, resting his arm on the open driver's side door and looking over the top. Axel leaned against the opposite door, softly whistling a tune that sounded Asian and ancient.
"Where is Annie?" Saba asked.
"Who?" Lumi started.
"The other witch, the one I did the circle with."
Lumi shrugged. "She took off. Went running down the street. Wouldn't wait."
"Pity," Malcolm said. "She could have told us much. I believe she will be safe for now—she is too weak to be of much use to the white dragon."
Saba thought about the coven Annie had mentioned and knew the woman would only be relatively safe, but Saba would have to deal with that later.
Axel straightened up. "You leave, Lumi. I'll look after these two, make sure they get home all right."
Lumi seemed reluctant to go, but he finally got into the car, cranked the motor and pulled out onto the street. Tail-lights glowed red as he reached the intersection, then he pulled around the corner and was gone.
Malcolm went back into the house to call the police from a land line, not wanting the call traced from any of their cell phones, then he returned to the two who waited for him, carrying the coat Saba had left in the foyer.
"We're close enough to walk," he said as Saba slid gratefully into the warmth of her coat. The night was clear, but cold.
Malcolm took Saba's hand again, as though he liked the contact with her. Axel shoved his hands into his pockets and trudged along with them in silence. They hadn't gone far when they saw blue and red lights swarm to the house behind them. The police were coming to raid the party and look for a murdered young woman.
The wind blew cold, and Saba shrank close to Malcolm. He slid his arm around her, a gesture both warming and distracting.
"I'm sorry about your friend," Saba said to Axel as the sounds of the police raid faded into the background.
"Hmm?" His brows quirked as though he'd been thinking of something else. "Oh, I didn't know her very well, but she didn't deserve to die like that. Poor thing."
"Her death was conveniently timed," Malcolm observed.
"I show up wanting to interview her, you disappear, and when we find her, she's dead."
Axel stopped walking. A car rushed downhill beside them, bouncing across the intersection. "You think I killed her?"
Saba glanced at Malcolm in surprise. He'd already postulated that the white dragon had killed the witch, but she realized Malcolm was testing Axel, wanting to discover how he'd react to an accusation.
Axel scowled. "Not me, dragon. I'm not a killer—at least, not of humans who don't deserve it. She was murdered by something bigger than me." He looked Malcolm up and down. "Something like you."
Saba moved uneasily. Standing between two powerful beings glowering at each other was unnerving.
Axel went on. "She was killed a few day
s ago, not tonight. Neither of us did this, but I think you know who did."
Malcolm nodded. "A white dragon."
Axel's dark eyes widened. "Ish. I didn't want to hear that."
"You know about white dragons?" Saba asked.
"White dragons—frost dragons—are mean suckers. Black dragons are bad enough, but you really don't want to mess with the white dragons."
"I already messed with one, not on purpose," Saba said. "I didn't like it."
Axel looked concerned. "You all right?"
"I'll live."
They started walking again, Axel strolling in thoughtful silence. "So Rhoda was working magic for a frost dragon. Trying to control one, maybe, to enhance her own magic?"
"She might have been trying to control him at first," Malcolm rumbled. "But he'd put his mark on her pretty firmly. I found the vestiges of it in her mind still, even after she'd been dead a day or two. He controlled her, and then he killed her."
"So where is this white dragon now?" Axel asked.
"I don't know."
Axel glanced up and down the street as though expecting the white dragon to pop out of an alley at them. "Terrific."
"And I don't know why he's here."
"You're a lot of fun to be with, you know that?" Axel observed.
"Do you still think the black dragon's side is the right one?" Malcolm asked.
"Yep."
Saba didn't ask what they meant. She didn't like how worried the strongest beings she knew were about the white dragon—Malcolm, Caleb, and now this imp. She wondered what Lisa thought of the situation, Lisa who had power far greater than the other dragons. But Lisa was in her last month of pregnancy, hardly the time to ask her to go fight a white dragon.
They walked in silence again, Malcolm's arm firmly around Saba. They passed opulent historic homes painted in carefully coordinated shades as they climbed the hill, most of them museums or offices or apartments. "Painted Ladies," the houses were called, and were photographed by tourists the world over. Many were silent and dark, showpieces in which no one lived.
"So what's our next move, boss?" Axel said as they neared Saba's apartment at the top of the hill.
"Find the white dragon," Malcolm said, as though there should be no doubt. "And neutralize him. Are you in?"
Axel thought a moment, then nodded. "Sure. I'm in."
"When you decide you're no longer in, stay far away," Malcolm said. "Do not oppose me. You will regret it."
"No kidding." Axel started to say more, then his head jerked up, eyes alert. "Oops, I'm being summoned. Gotta go."
He lifted his hand in farewell and vanished with a sudden popping sound. Saba blinked at the spot when he'd just been, a rush of displaced air stirring her hair.
"Interesting people you know, Malcolm," she said, letting out her breath. "Let's go in. I'm freezing."
I he apartment was warm enough with a fire blazing in the living room hearth and the central heating on. Malcolm marveled at how warm humans needed to be; his metabolism, even when he wore his human body, allowed him to survive in temperatures far colder or hotter than most people could stand.
Saba had kicked off her shoes as soon as she'd entered the apartment, and flowed down the hall to her bedroom. She hadn't asked if he planned to stay the night, and her annoyed look told him she would think long and hard before inviting him to her bed.
No matter. He built and lit the fire, then rummaged through what he'd brought with him plus the supplies he'd found last night in Saba's cabinet and set everything up on the dining room table. Map, salt, candles—all went in a neat row on the polished wood.
He sensed Saba enter before he saw her, knew the scent of her and her aura like the faint odor of jasmine. She was no less sexy in skinny jeans and a shirt that laced up the front than she had been in the tight dress and black lacy stockings.
She glanced at the table and the accoutrements and frowned. "What is all that for?"
"The locator spell."
"You want me to locate your mate for you now?"
He nodded, seeing no reason to delay.
Her dark eyes narrowed. "Why are you in such a hurry? Don't we have enough to worry about with the white dragon? Like where he is and what he's up to?"
Malcolm started to answer, to argue, but he stopped himself. He had no idea what it was about Saba that goaded him to hot words. A dragon did not argue about what he wanted to do, he simply did it and everyone obeyed. He was not obligated to explain his motives.
"Come and sit down," he said, keeping his voice neutral. "I will tell you what you need to know."
Any other person would simply obey. He'd forgotten that Saba, even while under his thrall, had always voiced decided opinions about what he wanted her to do. Now that he had released her, she'd become even more stubborn. She remained standing, staring at him like he'd lost his mind.
"It is a simple thing," he said, pulling out a chair for her.
Saba heaved a sigh, uncrossed her arms and conceded to sit in the chair. She waited while he sat down next to her, her face set in a determined frown.
Malcolm chose his words carefully. "When a black dragon has existed for three thousand years, he is compelled to find a mate," he began. "While others of dragonkind mate whenever they like, black dragons take only one mate, and if the female does not kill him, they remain a pair."
"I've never heard this," Saba said, watching him in suspicion.
"Not much is known about black dragons. We are reticent to impart knowledge of ourselves."
"You don't say." She gazed at him with coffee-dark eyes, digesting his story. "Are you telling me that as a dragon, you've never mated? Ever?"
He shook his head. "We do not need to until we are ready. Black dragons do not experience the emotion of lust."
"Good Goddess, Malcolm, are you telling me you're a virgin?"
He met her astonished stare. "As a dragon, yes. When I became a human male I discovered lust, and I discovered that humans, particularly males, think of very little besides mating. Perhaps because humans live short lives and bear few young, while dragons may produce as many as thirty to forty offspring with only one coupling."
"And now you're feeling the urge to produce little dragons?"
"Essentially." He kept to himself the other reason for this urge, for now.
"Oh." Saba's eyes flickered, and she looked away. "I never thought when the day started I'd end it with a treatise on dragon-mating."
"Will you do the locator spell?"
She looked up at him, her thoughts beyond his reach. "And if I find this lady dragon for you, you'll return to Dragonspace to raise your dragon kiddies?"
"The female raises the young, but yes, I will return there. First, however, I will make certain that the white dragon cannot harm you."
He watched the swallow that moved her slim throat. He'd not told the whole truth when he said black dragons did not lust—he'd never felt lust as a dragon until he'd met her. But after he'd returned to Dragonspace last year, things had been different. Whenever he sat on the ledge outside the dragon archive, his mathematical brain working calculations at lightning speed, thoughts of her would intrude.
He'd remember her eyes, the taste of her mouth, the beautiful scent of her. The sound of her voice when she came for him, the taste of her honey. He'd caught himself more than once searching for a way to make a door for himself to dive through and have her again.
But dragons needed a witch—or someone like Lisa—to let them through to the human world, and he trusted no witches but Saba. And so he remained in Dragonspace, troubled, distracted and puzzled by his longings.
When Saba called him to this side of the door with the dragon's tears, his human body knew exactly what it craved—her under him, his lips on hers, her hands tracing his hips as he slid into her. Now, alone in this apartment with her next to him he could no longer keep the wanting at bay. He leaned down and licked the shell of her ear.
"Stop that," she said softly, but
she didn't pull away.
He was already hard inside his jeans. He recalled her hand closing around him when they'd kissed before leaving tonight, the first time he'd let her touch him. It had been a heady experience that stoked his wanting rather than sated him. He would have her, no matter what it took, even if his only ally was a small Chinese woman with wise eyes.
"Do the spell," he whispered, then sat up again.
The flush on her cheekbones betrayed that she was anything but calm. Saba's fingers shook as she drew the map to her.
"This is Dragonspace?" she asked.
"Yes. I have traveled every corner of it and made the map myself."
"It's so detailed." Saba examined the precise lines and markings depicting the dragon kingdoms of north, south, east and west, the realms of each type of dragon, the mountain ranges, the deserts, and the silver oceans.
"I have some skill at drawing," he said without false modesty.
Saba looked at his hands. "But you'd have dragon claws when you're in Dragonspace. Don't tell me you put the pencil in your teeth. Or held it with your tail."
"I etched it onto a sheet of copper with my mind. This is a print pulled from it. My assistant does that."
"Assistant?"
"His name is Metz. He is irritating, but we get along."
"I'll bet." Her gaze returned to the exquisitely detailed map. "This is amazing."
"If the map gets marred, Metz can pull another one. The etching is stored in the dragon archive. There." He rested his finger in the middle of the map, where a mountain range was honeycombed with caves, the maze of them intricate and vast.
"Dragons keep archives?" she asked.
"Black dragons do. We believe that is why black dragons live so long, to record and protect all the writings we find and catalog."
She looked interested. "And the dragons of other colors, the white dragons and the goldens, don't do this?"
"No. Black dragon intellects are far superior, even among the great dragons."
The Black Dragon Page 8