by Terri Lane
“Is this for fun reading or do you have a demon problem?” he asked, suddenly very interested. He leaned in towards me as he spoke, and I found myself imagining what it would be like to run my tongue over those elongated canines. I shook my head a bit to clear it—I had just gotten out of a relationship, one that I hadn’t known was bad, and here I was, thinking about jumping into something else. He took the shake of my head as a response to his question, exhaling in relief.
“Oh, um. Actually, I do,” I blurted out, for reasons that I couldn’t understand. He looked at me, those warm green eyes wide. “I do have a demon problem.”
“That’s got to be awful,” he said, concerned. He folded his arms and began to stroke his beard as he considered something. He bit his lip, furrowing his brow. “May I…may I ask what happened?” I nodded. I suddenly wanted to tell this stranger everything. Dora had said that I could trust him…didn’t she? I needed access to his library. I owed him some truth.
“I…I was dating the demon,” I began, watching his face take on another wave of surprise. “For two years. He was…he was planning on using me for my powers.” I bit my lip, unsure of how to go on.
“Your powers?” he coaxed kindly.
“I’m a Necromancer.” This seemed to be the most shocking bit of my tale. He glanced at the sage in my hand.
“I’m guessing that you don’t actually need my help in finding your necessary materials,” he pointed out.
“Ah,” I began lamely. He held up his hand, giving me a kindly smile.
“I am also guessing that Dora sent you,” he went on. “And that she told you about my rather well-stocked library.” I smiled and shrugged in a way that I hoped was the tiniest bit endearing. As the daughter of a High Priestess, I wasn’t used to having to ask for things. Things were, typically offered and given to me freely. He nodded, looking around his shop. He laughed a little. “You are…really going to need that salt.”
I hesitated. Was he not going to help me? He noticed my look and laughed, a release of air from his lungs.
“Oh, of course I will help you, Necromancer,” he said. “But you are definitely going to need salt.” He left, briskly walking through a doorway that had a bead curtain which made a clicking sound as he passed through it. He came back out holding a large glass bottle filled with large grains of pure white sea salt. He handed me the bottle. “Free of charge. I don’t typically get anything more dangerous than a wayward ghost hanging out in the kitchen witch’s attic.”
I laughed, relieved, and accepted the salt.
“Thank you,” I said. “You have no reason to help. But you’ve already been so—” He held up his hand.
“Don’t thank me yet,” he said, then offered me his hand to shake. “I’m Ben.”
“Samara.”
“It’s lovely to make your acquaintance,” he said with a sigh. “I wish it were under better circumstances, but…” He shrugged and smiled at me. I smiled back. He seemed to burst into a flurry of movement. “We’d better get going!” He began closing up the shop.
“You don’t—”
“Oh, it’s fine!” he replied brightly. “I don’t actually need the money. I have had a few hundred years to build up quite an adequate nest egg. I just do this to sell the herbs from my garden. Put it to good use.”
“You have a garden in the desert?”
“Oh, yes! Well, it’s a greenhouse,” he explained. “I’ll show you.” His quick movements were dizzying in their speed, reminding me that this was no ordinary human, but a dragon. Although, I should be quite used to this by now, I thought. But then, how much of his true nature had Lex been hiding from me?
“Ready?” Ben asked me, waiting for me beside the door. I nodded, clutching the bottle of salt and bundles of sage in my hands. He opened the door, holding it open for me. The perfect gentleman, I thought.
***
AURORA:
“I won’t tell you a thing,” Meroe spat, although she sounded exhausted. She was breathing heavily, her face in pain. Blood spatters covered the white tile floor. Of all the rooms in Lex’s fancy penthouse, this was my favorite. It was almost clinical in nature, with white walls and tiles, and none of those huge windows. It was…hidden. The fluorescent lighting buzzed loudly above us.
I licked the fresh blood off of my finger. Meroe saw, looking a tad sick. Her face was bruised and beaten almost to a pulp. The colors were bright and beautiful—deep, visceral red, purple so deep as to be nearing eggplant. I grinned at her, and she looked down at the ground. She was seated on a chair.
Lex paced at the far side of the room as I went to work on the witch with my talons. I kept up a steady stream of constant motion, disappearing and then reappearing at another angle. The little witch had long since given up following my movements, giving in, letting my blows rain down upon her. Her cries of pain were glorious.
Lex suddenly walked briskly across the room. I stood back, happy to let him have a try. He placed his hands over hers on the arms of the chair. His skin was turning bright red; a sign that he was physically heating up. Meroe screamed in pain, her voice hoarse.
“TELL ME,” he roared. She shook her head, tears streaming down the destroyed flesh of her face. “TELL ME WHERE SHE IS.”
“Never,” she said, in the voice of someone who is entirely calm. Surprised, I looked at her face. She stared Lex down, a look of complete calm. I had misjudged her, I realized. At her core, Meroe was strong in her convictions. She was ready to die before giving up Samara, and Lex, looking her directly in the eyes, knew it. He screamed, reaching forward with his hands, pushing them into her chest and pulling out her heart in a fantastically bloody motion. I stood there, spellbound. My mouth dropped open.
* * *
MEROE:
Dying was the easy part, to be honest. When Lex killed me, I just kind of…floated up and out of my body, the pain slowly fading away. I sighed in relief. If I was, supposedly, the weakest in the coven, then they had another thing coming. I might have been dead, but my work was far from over. I needed to warn Samara. For a ghost, finding a Necromancer is a cinch.
I let myself drift, looking for the correct path. I let the scene of my gory death fade away as I concentrated on finding the silver path that led to Samara. I could sense it. It was almost like listening for a bell that sounds at the proper pitch. I reached out in the darkness, grabbing hold of the glowing silver thread, and letting myself go.
It was daylight. Samara was sitting inside, and through the window, light shone through, brightly. The room was enormous, with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, stuffed with old leather books. It seemed clean. Just really, really packed with books. Samara sat in a green velvet armchair with wooden claws at the ends of the legs. There was a large, sturdy wooden table at the center of the room and several more green velvet armchairs scattered about. I placed my hand on Samara’s shoulder. She gasped, feeling my presence, then looking right at me, terror-struck.
“Meroe, no—” she began, but I stopped her. She was already beginning to cry.
“Samara,” I said. “They are looking for you.”
“They killed you!” she said, filled with rage and hate. I nodded. “Was it—”
“Awful? Yes,” I replied. “You have to focus here, though. I will get my revenge. I will keep an eye on them. But you have to hurry. It won’t take them long.”
“How are the others?” she asked, hurriedly brushing away tears. She rearranged her features, ever the High Priestess’s daughter. I reached out, touching her cheek with my now not-solid hand.
“McKenna was injured,” I replied. “She’ll be fine. She was able to escape. But Lex had you watched all of the way out of town.” Samara nodded. I looked around.
“What is this?” I said.
“The library of a dragon shifter,” she said, raising her eyebrows.
“A dragon shifter!” I sighed. “You always get the good adventures.” She looked at me sadly. I shrugged.
“You need someone
on the inside,” I reasoned. “Who better than your bestie?” She was about to cry. I held up a hand. “Don’t. I don’t want to find out if my tears are as weightless as I am.”
Samara nodded, but her tears came anyway. I honestly did not feel sad about my death. It seemed…a thing of the past. I had too much to do now to think about my death.
“I’m so sorry,” Samara sobbed. I placed my hand on her shoulder and accidentally placed my hand through it. I needed to get accustomed to being not-so-solid anymore.
“Just promise me something,” I said solemnly, taking my hand away. She nodded. “Do not date a demon. Ever. Again.”
She nodded, beginning to sob even harder. The door opened, and I let myself go invisible. A very good-looking young man walked in. No. Wait. I narrowed my eyes. He was ancient. He didn’t look it, but I could see through to his core. It glowed; a vast, bright thing. It was something that had burned for ages. I could see it like I could now see Samara’s core, which was bright, but new and somewhat faint. I leaned in and placed a soft kiss on her cheek. She placed her hand there.
Satisfied that Samara was in far more capable hands than my ice-cold dead ones, I left, letting go of the path and returning to Lex and his nasty henchwoman. I had reconnaissance to do.
***
SAMARA:
“What happened?” Ben was panicked. When he had left me in the library, I had been fine. Not happy, but definitely within the spectrum of hopeful. When he returned, I was sobbing.
“My boy—the demon,” I explained. “He k-killed my b-best friend.” I bent over in the chair, placing my forehead on my knees. “Sh-she died because of me.”
“You can’t blame yourself,” he said, placing his hand on my shoulder. He looked around. “Is your friend still here?” I shook my head. I had felt Meroe’s spirit leave. He knelt down in front of me. I looked up and found myself looking into his bright green eyes. My heart began to pound, and I felt warm within my core. It was like he looked straight into me, then said gently, “You didn’t know that he was evil.”
“But I should have,” I began. I sat up all of the way. We were face-to-face. So close. His scent filled my nostrils. I paused, almost not breathing. He gave me a small smile and shook his head slightly.
“No,” he replied. “He hid that side of himself from you.” He stood. “Demons are known for being particularly good at that. Typically, they hide in the guise of children as most people are willing to let their guard down in front of a helpless child. Others take the form of beautiful women, well…because men are very much willing to open themselves up in that situation.” I laughed. “And I am guessing that your demon made himself look very attractive to you.”
I nodded, looking away from him.
“Umhmmm,” he said. I glanced back at him. He was studying me and stroking his beard thoughtfully. “Not many people have the ability to fight a demon. They can get inside of your brain and figure out what your defenses are least likely to withstand.”
“What do I do?” I asked. He grinned.
“Well, I know the answer to your riddle, so there’s a start.”
“You do?”
“Yep,” he stated simply as if it were nothing. “I have, in fact, heard it before.” I waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t.
“Well?”
“What is given and what is taken.
There at your first breath,
Neither asked, only given,
but follows unto Death.” He paused for emphasis. “It’s his name.”
“It’s L—” I began, but he held up a hand to stop me.
“Not the one that he calls himself,” he explained. “That would be too easy. No, it’s his true name that we have to find.” He glanced around at the shelves, stuffed with books. “It’s here. Somewhere.” I sank back into my chair. The room was easily the size of my own apartment. This search would take time. Time that I may or may not have, I thought to myself wearily. I stood.
“Well,” I said. “I guess I’d better get started.” He looked at me. I looked back, seeing something in those eyes...
“You’re not alone in this,” he said. That could have killed me. I felt a rush of adrenaline, my heart began to pound in my chest. I had never wanted something to be more true.
“’Sup, kids?” a deep male voice boomed. I turned. A tall, well-built man stood in the doorway. His face was clean-shaven, and he had dark brown, close-cropped hair. He was muscular, and dressed in a tight white t-shirt and a pair of jeans. He was barefoot. He had a broad smile on his face—his teeth were perfect, canines elongated. The other dragon, I thought to myself.
“Aiden!” Ben said brightly. “Did you get it?”
“Nah, man. I’m close, though,” he replied, holding up a finger. He grinned at me, holding his hand out and walking forward. He oozed masculine confidence. It was sexy. “Hey pretty lady!”
“Hi,” I replied, shaking his hand.
“Did Ben find you?” he asked, winking at me with a smile. “Did he promise you lots of books?”
“She found me, actually.”
“Oh really?” Aiden was immediately interested.
“He promised me lots of books on demons,” I replied archly. Aiden’s mouth dropped open in surprise. He recovered quickly, however, and his flirtatious tone returned.
“Do you like the dark side?”
“Apparently, I’ve been dating it,” I said, keeping my poise. I found both of them attractive. But I was not in the mood to go getting into anything at that moment. Aiden looked at me, arching his eyebrow.
“Is that so?” he asked lightly. I nodded, looking away. My skin was probably blotchy and definitely tear-stained.
“Samara’s been through a lot, dude,” Ben remarked, coming to my aid. “Her boyfriend is a demon-shifter, and he wants to use her necromancy powers to raise an army of the dead and take over the world.”
“That’s all?”
“In a nutshell,” I remarked coolly. I stood, walking toward the bookshelves. As they talked in low voices, I ran a finger over the leather spines of the books. I saw that this was the shelf where Ben kept his grimoires, bloated from use and liquid damage. I placed my finger on one, my skin tingling. The leather was smoother in grain, and yellower than the others. Human skin, I thought.
“Samara,” Aiden said, speaking up from their almost whispered discussion.
“Yes?” I asked, glancing over at them.
“Would you care to have some dinner with us?” he asked formally. I squinted at him, trying to decide whether he was joking with me or not. He seemed serious. I nodded.
“Yes please,” I said. Aiden sketched a low bow.
“You honor us with your presence, Necromancer.”
“And you, I, Dragon.”
“Ah, my friend,” Aiden said to Ben. “She guesses our true nature.”
“Dora told her.”
“Oh.” He sounded disappointed.
Dinner with two dragons was, decidedly, less bloody than I would have originally expected. We sat eating a spaghetti bolognese with large glasses of fine red wine at the table in their red-tiled kitchen. The two dragons cooked, joking around the entire time. Trying to cheer me up, I realized. We sat at their massive wooden kitchen table, which had two equally massive benches pulled up beside it.
“So, what do you do, Aiden?” I asked, taking a sip of the wine.
“I’m a treasure hunter,” he said matter-of-factly. “I collect things for my dragon hoard.”
“No, really,” I said.
“It’s true,” Ben said. “He keeps it in the shed out back.”
I raised my eyebrow. When Ben had taken me on a tour of his greenhouse, I'd seen the rather non-descript white-painted wooden shed out in the back.
“You keep it in that rickety old thing?” I asked doubtfully.
“That rickety old thing has a state-of-the-art security system,” Aiden replied. “Anyway, who would look for millions of dollars’ worth of knickknacks and s
uch in a shed?”
“The treasure room is beneath the shed,” Ben clarified for me. He was leaned back in his chair, his wine glass held aloft.
“Ah,” I replied. “So, you were searching for another thing to bury beneath your shed?”
“Currently,” Aiden said, swirling his wine expansively, “I am searching for the Mayan Hanging Lady.”
“And what is that?”
“A ritual statue,” Aiden replied. “Used during important sacrifices. From my research, it appears that the Mayans believed it to be a weapon of some kind, gifted to them by the goddess Ixtab.”
“Why do you want it?” I asked. I knew of Ixtab, as any Necromancer would—she was the Mayan patron of those who had died by hanging. She would collect their souls and bring them safely to paradise. The Mayans believed that hanging was a brave way to go, evidently.
“He likes the ladies,” Ben raised his eyebrows in jest. Aiden socked him in the shoulder. “Ow.”
“You get what you deserve,” said Aiden, looking at me. “I want it because it is supposedly made of solid gold and encrusted with emeralds. It will look lovely on the mantel—don’t you think, Benny? Just beside the cursed sword that I found in Aruba. Alas, the Hanging Lady has never been discovered.”
“How do you know about it then?” I asked.
“It is mentioned in the Dresden Codex,” he replied.
“Ah, I see.” I paused, tilting my head to the side as I studied his well-sculpted face. He was the typical All-American type. “What will you do with it?” He grinned at me mischievously.
“Keep it!” I laughed with them.
“No, really.”
“Really.”
“Is that all that dragons do?” I asked, realizing that I was getting pulled in to Aiden’s flirtation. I felt like a fly trapped in a web. I liked Ben, too. I got the feeling, from the way that Ben was smiling at me, he felt the same.
“Is that all that dragons do?” Aiden cried. “Of course!” But I got the feeling, from the way that Aiden’s eyes were traveling smoothly over contours my fitted black t-shirt, that he was very interested. I smiled and glanced down at my wine. I felt conflicted. I won’t come between two friends, I thought. It would, eventually, come to the point where I’d have to choose one or the other, I realized. I’d have to choose neither, or lose them both. I needed them as allies too much.