The Dragon of New Orleans

by Genevieve Jack

  A cold prickle lingered at the base of Raven’s neck. Never in her life had she been in the room with energy as dark and evil as Crimson Vanderholt’s. The woman oozed menace. Raven got the sense that the voodoo queen had once been pretty, maybe even beautiful, but now she appeared to be someone trying too hard to cover an unsustainable lifestyle. Her makeup was thick, her hair overprocessed, and her perfume… Raven had never smelled a more sickly-sweet concoction.

  The four-inch talons that had extended from Gabriel’s first knuckles retracted with a shake of his hands, his partial transformation reverting before her eyes. All at once, she remembered what he was. She was in a room with a dragon. He was big and strong and had killed people without breaking a sweat. She’d watched him thrust claws through Crimson’s gut. She swallowed hard. A cold ribbon of fear twisted through her, and she wondered if she’d done the right thing coming back here.

  But then he started tapping again. The same pattern as before, tap-tap-tap, tap-tap-tap. His face took on a tortured expression, and he tucked the offending hand behind his back. Raven connected with that expression. She was no stranger to being a slave to compulsion. Her brain cancer had once made her arm go rigid, snapping to her side and straightening until her muscles threatened to break her bones. She’d had no control over the movement back then.

  Dragon or not, Gabriel was suffering.

  “Give me your hands,” Raven said softly.

  His gaze snapped to hers.

  “It’s okay. I… I understand. I used to have something similar when I was sick. Please.”

  Slowly, Gabriel withdrew his hand from its hiding place and held it out to her. She sandwiched his tapping fingers between her palms and rubbed vigorously. “Dr. Freemont used to say that distraction was better than any drug when it came to obsessive-compulsive behavior.”

  An overwhelming sense of calm rolled through her, and she smiled as his fingers eased under her touch. After witnessing those fingers turn into claws, she should have been afraid, but she wasn’t. Gabriel was dangerous. He was a killer. He was massive enough to tear her to shreds. But when he’d leaped across the desk and lashed out at Crimson, he’d been protecting her. Every time he’d become violent, it had been to shield her, because if Agnes and Richard were to be believed, he needed her. She trusted in that as she remained close to him.

  “How did you do that?” Gabriel gawked at their coupled hands.

  “I’m not a doctor, but it has something to do with neural pathways. If you disrupt the electrical impulses from your brain to your extremity, you can ease the discomfort.”

  He nodded. “Thank you.”

  She raised her face and looked directly into those smoldering eyes. Big mistake. Avery had been right. Gabriel Blakemore was undeniably sexy. For a moment she forgot who she was or why she was standing there holding his hand. Her tongue turned to leather and her mind went straight back to his bedroom, to the feel of being under him, dwarfed by him. She dismissed the rogue thought and lowered her gaze, dragging her fingers off his. “You’re welcome.”

  “You said something about terms.”

  “Yes.” She collected herself, smoothing her hair and gathering her thoughts. “I need to be paid. Well paid, Gabriel. My dad has been riding my ass to go back to school, and I owe my mom a ton of money. If I’m going to put him off, I have to have a good reason.”

  “Done. What else?”

  “I need weekends off.”

  He inhaled sharply.

  “I know you only have a brief time left, and I will be here working when I don’t have other things to do. But life is short. I promised myself the day I walked out of the hospital that I would never live like that again. I plan to live every day like it’s my last. I want to help you, but my time is my own. I come and go as I please.”

  He stepped in closer, close enough that she could feel his breath. He didn’t look happy. “I won’t stop you from doing what you want to do, but I need to know where you will be. To keep you safe. With my magic in the state it is, I can’t track you like I once could.”

  She bristled. Raven had no intention of reporting her whereabouts to him on a regular basis. She was a grown woman. “If I miss work hours, I will let you know why.”

  “Anything else?”

  “No locks. I won’t be locked in. I don’t care how valuable the books are.”

  “I gave you the key.”

  “Not good enough. I want to keep the door open.” Raven closed her eyes. “It feels like a coffin when it’s closed. It’s hard enough for me to be stuck inside all day. I won’t be locked in.”

  He grunted. “Okay. Is that all? I want to know all the terms I’m agreeing to.” His eyes tightened at the corners, and he pressed his mouth into a straight line.

  “That’s it.”

  “I accept your terms.” He licked his lips, and Raven saw hunger brew like a storm around his coal-black pupils. The red flecks burned, flickering in a way that wasn’t human. His smoky scent filled her lungs, and his undivided attention weighed on her like a spotlight. “On one condition.”

  Raven swallowed. It wasn’t fear that made her heart flutter. “What condition is that?”

  “As you say, life is short. I have until Mardi Gras to find a cure or I will end. My end will come before yours, in fact. All of this means that I must live until I die as well. What purpose is there to life if we don’t enjoy the time we have?”

  She shook her head. “What does that have to do with me?”

  Towering over her, he bent his neck until his nose almost grazed hers. “Your presence helps ease the symptoms of my curse, Raven.” He stretched the fingers of the hand that was no longer tapping.

  “Oh?” Her voice came out in a squeak. Why did the sound of her name on his lips make her insides quiver?

  “Yes. At times I will need to be near you, no questions asked. That is my condition.”

  His skin was hot. Hot where his breath skimmed her cheek. Hot where his chest neared her own. That heat seeped into her, sliding down her skin like warm honey.

  What was happening? She had no business reacting this way to someone like him. He was a dragon. Not even human. Not to mention he was her boss.

  “Okay.” The word came out husky, and she cleared her throat, her cheeks warming. “I accept your condition.”

  “Good. Then you will have dinner with me tonight.” Not a question. A statement.

  “Er, no,” she said. “I’m sorry. I can’t. It’s my mother’s birthday. I have to have dinner with her and my sister.”

  He stepped back, his jaw tightening as if he were supremely disappointed.

  “Breakfast?” she blurted.

  He paused. “Oh, I would love to make you breakfast, Ms. Tanglewood,” he drawled, his eyes raking over her.

  She ignored the innuendo. Chewing her lip, she said, “I’ll come early tomorrow, before the shop opens.”

  He nodded, his nostrils flaring. “Very well. We have a deal.” He extended his hand and she shook it. As he backed away, still firmly gripping her palm, his eyes dropped to her arm and he frowned. “Raven, what is this?”

  She looked down and then looked again. Her arm was glowing. Not her entire arm but portions of it. It was covered in marks like she’d caught a case of phosphorescent, interconnected measles. Her other arm was normal, pale-skinned, and smooth. The glow was only on the side that held his hand.

  “I don’t know. What is happening to me?”

  He released her and the markings slowly faded. “I’m not sure. I’ve never seen this before. Has anything unusual happened to you recently?”

  She rolled her eyes. “What hasn’t been unusual? Literally everything about yesterday was a once in a lifetime.”

  “Did Crimson touch you?”

  “No. But wait… This arm itched when I was reviewing the grimoires. I couldn’t stop scratching. I thought I was having an allergic reaction.”

  He cradled her arm again, rubbing his thumbs over the long blue vein on the
inside of her wrist. His fingers were warm, soothing. She almost moaned. Light followed his thumbs, glowing to life where he touched. “I don’t think this is an allergic reaction, Raven. Your skin is reacting to me.”

  “What do you think it means?” she asked. “Does it have to do with the bond?”

  He looked her in the eye again. “I am not sure. But I promise you I will find out.”

  Chapter Nine

  Raven had underestimated how hard it would be to reenter the library. All she had to do was look into the space and her heart raced. But she was not the sort of woman to be conquered by fear. Cancer was a shrinking room with no doors and no windows. She’d survived it because of Gabriel. She would survive this for him.

  Skin slick with sweat, she propped the door wide open and crossed to the desk near the window. The drapes were open today, and the shelves of books seemed different in the full light—less daunting. Her original curiosity crept back like a skittish pet. These books were worlds waiting to be explored. And she planned to survey every one of them.

  No matter what Gabriel thought, she wasn’t psychic. Raven didn’t have any power capable of detecting the spell that could break the curse on his ring, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t help. What she needed was a method to find any magical instructions that had to do with curses, then Gabriel could review her findings and they could try anything that looked promising.

  She flipped to the back of the catalog and tore out a blank page, then folded it into thin strips and ripped along the seams. The text of the grimoire still on her desk was clearly in German. She pulled out her phone and navigated to her translation app, plugging “curse” into the English to German box.

  “Fluch or die Verwünschung,” she whispered. Should be simple enough. She would find and mark every instance of either word. She lifted her chin. She could do this.

  After quickly examining all eight hundred pages of the German text, Raven had found only eight instances of the words. She followed that up with a grimoire in a Middle Eastern language. Then one in Old English that she wasn’t sure was a grimoire at all, but more likely a reference guide to the application of herbal medicine. She skimmed each page for the words for curse, noting any spells that mentioned them. She had no idea if the entries she found were for breaking curses or casting them, but she marked any promising spells for Gabriel, using the bookmarks she’d created.

  Whatever Raven was allergic to came back again. She’d started to believe it was some sort of mite that lived in the pages of these books. Her current tome, with its crisp modern print, made her skin feel cold and the half-moons at the base of her fingernails darkened to a blue tint. She tried to ignore it.

  “Knock, knock,” Agnes said from the door.

  Raven looked up. “Oh, Agnes, come in.”

  The old woman smiled. “Sorry to interrupt, but I was wondering if you needed a break. Gabriel wanted me to watch the room for you while you’re away.” She looked around at the priceless volumes on the shelves and then back at Raven, her lips pursed.

  “Uh, yes, I do, but… Agnes, can I ask you something?”

  “You may ask. I can’t guarantee an answer.” The woman grinned beneath her gigantic glasses and sidled up to Raven at the desk.

  “Do you know how Kristina organized these grimoires? The categorization doesn’t make sense to me. I mean, clearly she has them broken into distinct sections, but I can’t tell what distinction she used to group them. I’ve ruled out alphabetical or by language. They aren’t categorized by age.”

  Agnes ran a perfectly manicured nail down the list, then inspected the corresponding shelf. After a few moments, she released a deep sigh. “I’m sorry, Raven. I have no idea. It doesn’t make any sense to me.”

  “But did Kristina mention anything to you about what she was doing? Anything that might give me a clue? It’s like she up and left in the middle of her work.”

  Agnes gripped her chin and shook her head. “Kristina kept to herself. Unlike you, she enjoyed being locked in here. She wasn’t a people person, you understand. Never joined us for lunch.”

  Raven frowned. “Why do you think she left?”

  “Richard and I have gone rounds about it. We have no idea. The girl seemed happy here. Although she was troubled. Her gift of talking to spirits made her often… distracted. From what we’d heard, she’d had a history of being misdiagnosed with mental illness. Clearly the adults in her life never understood her gift. No one did until Gabriel.”

  “So, despite being happy here and Gabriel being the only one who ever understood her, she simply took off one day?”

  Agnes lowered her voice. “You didn’t hear it from me, but to be honest, Richard and I think something happened to her. Gabriel can use the bond to call both Richard and me to his side, but for some reason he is unable to use that ability to track down Kristina. But then, now that I think about it, he wasn’t able to call you either, was he?”

  Raven shrugged. “What does the call feel like?”

  “Like a sharp tug behind your breastbone. It’s not something you’d be able to ignore, or to forget.”

  “Then no. I didn’t feel anything. But maybe he didn’t try. Maybe he wasn’t that concerned with me leaving.”

  Agnes’s platinum bob swung against her cheek as her head turned abruptly. “Oh, dear. Believe me, if he could have forced you back, he would have. We had one grouchy dragon on our hands.”

  “Oh.” Raven sighed. “Hmm. I wonder what happened to her… Kristina. I wonder if Crimson had anything to do with it.”

  Agnes shrugged. “If she did, it seems odd to me that she wouldn’t use her to get at Gabriel. Crimson isn’t subtle. She would be the type to leave a ransom note. Even if she killed the girl, she’d want credit.”

  Raven contemplated the list one last time, then shook her head. “Thanks for having a look. I’ll take that break now.” She rose and headed into the attached room, pausing when she saw a fresh tray of tea on the table in the kitchenette. “Agnes?”

  Raven’s shaky voice must have struck a chord because the older woman came running.

  “What is it, honey?”

  “The tea… I didn’t see anyone come in with this. How is it here?”

  Agnes cackled. “Oh, that’s just Juniper and Hazel, dear, Gabriel’s housekeeping staff. They’re practically invisible and as silent as church mice. Enjoy it. It looks delicious.”

  Silent and invisible were understatements. Juniper and Hazel were miracle workers. Raven cracked her neck and tried to take Agnes’s word for it. After a short bathroom break, Raven poured herself a cup of the tea and filled a plate with finger sandwiches before returning to the book she’d been working on. She thanked Agnes.

  “Anytime, my dear. As sad as I am about Kristina leaving us, I’m happy you’re here.” She smiled brightly and left the room.

  Left alone again in the library, Raven retrieved the next grimoire from the shelf. This one was in English. The Book of Melding contained potion recipes and associated incantations to do anything from keeping deer out of a garden to rendering an enemy lifeless. Not dead. Temporarily lifeless. Raven shuddered as she read it. Nothing about breaking curses on jewels, although there were potions used to repel or prevent them on a person. She marked those, just in case.

  Out of bookmarks, she again flipped to the back of Kristina’s ledger to tear another page from the binding to make into strips. Once that was removed, a drawing was revealed on the second to last page of the catalog. She paused to admire it. It was a sketch of a tree with a twisted trunk and branches that arced almost to the braided roots. A tree of life in the Celtic tradition.

  Raven stared at the sketch as she sipped her tea. Damn, Kristina was talented. According to Agnes, she’d liked being in this room. What else was she good at? Why had she left so abruptly? What had happened to her?

  Raven selected the next grimoire, this one in French, but she couldn’t concentrate on the words. All she could think about was the tree and Krist
ina’s meticulously cataloged library. Agnes and Richard had said Kristina was a medium, someone who spoke to spirits. Someone with a powerful gift. If something had happened to her, why hadn’t the spirits warned her?

  When Raven looked at her phone again, she swore. If she didn’t hurry, she was going to be late for her mom’s party. She scribbled a note to Gabriel to check the pages she’d marked, locked the library, and jogged down to his office.

  “Gabriel?” His door was open, but Raven knocked on the outer wall before entering. He wasn’t there. She placed the note on the center of his desk. A chill spider-walked up her spine at the memory of when she was last in this room, of Crimson surveying her like she was a new pet. Magic or not, that woman did an excellent Ted Bundy impression. Her cold eyes had cut straight through Raven, and her expression had been—murderous.

  Frowning, Raven pulled her phone from her pocket and typed Kristina missing person New Orleans in the search bar. An article popped up: Father Pleads for Help in Missing Person Case. Raven bookmarked it to read later. Gabriel might not want to talk about Kristina, but Raven couldn’t let this go. If Crimson had anything to do with her disappearance, Raven needed to know. Besides, finding Kristina and reenlisting her help could be their only hope of breaking the curse.

  Crimson Vanderholt watched the Three Sisters from across the street, thinking she was very clever. People were always underestimating her. It was her favorite thing about life, actually. An underestimated person had far more power than one whose talents were fully appreciated.

  It had taken her less than twenty minutes to figure out who Raven Tanglewood was. A short conversation with that idiot Richard had proven fruitful. She’d had to compel it out of him with a carefully spritzed herbal concoction, but the man could not resist her influence. Once she had the name, tracing Raven to the Three Sisters was easy enough. No magic needed. There were articles galore on the internet about her cancer and the various fund-raisers her parents had thrown on her behalf.