The Dragon of New Orleans

by Genevieve Jack

  Things only got stranger when they broke from the jungle and Raven saw the village of Hobble Glen up close. Truly, it was something out of a fairy tale. Each of the stone cottages was decorated with gemstone walkways and ornate doorways that made use of wood, stone, and metal. Electric lights were strung over the street, and a fountain bubbled at the center of the square in the distance. A motorized vehicle that looked more like a horseless carriage than a modern car zipped along the road behind them.

  Gabriel pointed to one of the cottages. “The front doors are important. Paragonian families use them as a sort of crest. When there is a marriage, an element of each family’s door is incorporated into the door of the newlywed couple. The patterns become extremely complex over time. No two are the same.”

  “The craftsmanship is incredible. And the jewels! They must cost a fortune.”

  “The craftsmanship isn’t cheap, but gems are ubiquitous here. You can purchase a raw sapphire for the same amount as a gallon of milk in your world.”

  Raven’s mouth gaped. “Truly?”

  Gabriel kicked the dirt. “There are rubies here.”

  Raven gawked at the twinkling spots of red in the dirt. She cursed. “And all this time, I thought this gem hanging around my neck was priceless.”

  He chuckled. “Oh, it is. Not because it’s a ruby, but because it is enchanted with an illusion charm. It provided my sister with unparalleled beauty. It is making you appear Paragonian.”

  “What does that mean? You look the same.”

  He turned around and ran a hand up the nape of his neck. Three V-shaped ridges rose along the top of his spine. He turned back to face her and removed his mask, pointing at his right eye. There was now a pattern of darkened skin curving in a double crescent near his temple.

  “You hide them?”

  “On Earth, yes. Although to be fair, your kind frequently alters their appearance in strange and unusual ways. I doubt I’d get a second look in this form.”

  “And because of this, I have them too?” She touched the stone.

  He smiled. “Yes. It will also allow you to understand our language. Thankfully, my sister added that particular enchantment so that she could eavesdrop on the elves at Marius’s coronation.”

  Raven desperately wished she had a mirror to see what the markings looked like on her face. They strolled closer to the central fountain in the circular city. As Gabriel had mentioned, Pyre Night was well underway. Fires burned in the streets, surrounded by revelers. Gabriel greeted people as they passed, smiling beneath his mask. Raven did the same.

  “What do people usually burn?”

  Gabriel placed his hand on her back, taking advantage of the dress’s low back to run his thumb along her spine. “Old clothing. Expired food. Broken things. Sometimes pets.”

  “Pets?”

  “Ones who have died recently. It’s a way to send their souls back to the Mountain.”

  “And the mountain is like a god?”

  “The Mountain is our goddess. She is the mother of all dragons. We come from the stone. That’s why each of my brothers and I have a ring like this that houses our power. This is where we come from and where we go if we are killed.”

  “This isn’t what I expected.” Raven shook her head as they entered the throng.

  “Oh?”

  “I thought everyone would, um, be like you were in your special room.” She didn’t want to come out and say “shifted” or “dragon” in case someone was listening.

  He smiled. “Actually, this is the form we live our lives in,” he whispered. “Our other form is for extreme circumstances: battle, some kinds of magic, breeding.”

  Her eyebrows shot up at the word breeding. Did that mean Gabriel couldn’t have children except with another dragon? She was distracted by the thought when she noticed men looking at her. A lot of men. She tugged at Gabriel’s arm. “I think there’s something wrong with my illusion.”

  He laughed. “Females are rare here, and you are as beautiful as they come.” He pulled her to his side. “Would you like to try tribiscal wine?”

  “There’s wine?”

  “The best in the five kingdoms. Come, let me get you a taste.” He stopped at a cottage with a sign that read The Silver Sunset Inn. The place was charming, bustling with people sitting at long wooden tables covered in candles. Gabriel bellied up to the bar and drew out a purse full of coins from his pocket. Gold coins. He held up two fingers to the bartender, and they exchanged a few words. Gabriel paid and the man slid two frosty beer glasses across the bar, filled with a dark purple beverage.

  “Try this,” he said, handing her one.

  She tentatively took a sip. “Delicious. It tastes like sunlight.”

  “The tribiscal fruit only grows at the top of the mountain, closest to the sun.”

  She drank a little more. “Mmm.”

  Gabriel moved in close. “Will you excuse me for a moment? I’d like to ask a few questions of the people here. I haven’t been to Paragon in three hundred years, and it might be wise for me to know more about what we’re walking into.”

  She nodded. “Good idea.” She watched him navigate the tables and sit down beside a heavyset male.

  “Are you here alone, my dove?” a male asked from beside her. He was too close, his eyes fixated on her as if she were something to eat.

  “No,” she said, smoothing the hair over her ear. “Excuse me.” She stepped away from the bar, looking for Gabriel. He was engaged in a heated conversation. Another set of eyes caught hers, and a third male started for her from across the bar. Damn. She felt like a sausage thrown into a dog kennel. She sipped her drink and turned on her heel, slipping out the door and into the street where she hoped to blend into the crowd until Gabriel was finished.

  The fires were raging now. To her right, a man in a mask threw a box onto one of the large pyres that burned every few yards down this stretch of street. He was laughing hard enough that tears streamed out the bottom of his mask. His buddy kicked the box deeper into the flames and handed him a drink. Everyone was purging their belongings, laughing or crying as the blaze consumed their offerings.

  Her head swam a little from the wine and she slowed down. It wouldn’t do to be drunk when she was trying to absorb the queen’s magic.

  The door to the bar opened behind her and one of the men stumbled out, raising a finger. “Miss, a moment of your time.”

  She pretended not to hear him and crossed the street, looking for someplace to hide until Gabriel was done. She glanced up to find a cauldron-shaped sign hanging above her head. She swaggered to the entrance. The sign had no name written on it, but wasn’t the cauldron a universal sign for magic? As she neared the door, she thought it must be. An enchanting odor called to her as strongly as Cinnabons across a crowded mall. It smelled of metal and lavender and coated the back of her throat like a milkshake. This was where she needed to be.

  She took another sip of wine and entered. Once inside, she spun around and looked back toward the Silver Sunset. The man was still standing outside the door. He hadn’t followed. Good.

  Shifting back and forth on her feet, she blinked rapidly in the dim light. The place was crowded with statues, amulets, dried plants and fruits. Symbols lined the walls, and a fire burned under a cauldron at the center of the room. It was the cauldron that was emitting the wonderful smell. She staggered toward it and inhaled deeply.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” a low, undeniably female voice said.

  Raven roamed deeper into the shop. “Hello?”

  “It is considered bad luck for a female to be in my shop. They say if you stay too long, the magic will render you barren.”

  “What happens to the men?” Raven asked. A hiccup parted her lips, and she laughed aloud.

  Shifting skirts came from her left, and then a figure broke from shadow into light. The figure was humanoid but not human. Not dragon either. Her exposed skin was dark purple and scarred in a pattern of swirls that Raven found only hal
f as intriguing as the gossamer wings that protruded from her back. The wings were the same pearlescent silver as her eyes. With a sharp nose and a shock of silver hair, the female looked beautiful but dangerous, like a poisonous spider or a venomous reptile.

  “You should not be here.”

  “You said that. But just so you know, I’m already barren. Chemotherapy fried all my eggs.” She hiccupped again and swayed on her feet. Okay, she was definitely drunk. What was in this stuff?

  The purple female’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you here?”

  “Honestly, I smelled what you were cooking and wanted to find out what it was. Whatever you’re brewing smells delishhhhhious.”

  In a flash, Raven’s back was shoved against the shelves. A silver dagger pressed into the base of her throat. She dropped her glass and it shattered on the stone floor.

  “Why are you here, witch?”

  “What?”

  “You want to know what’s in the pot? Twinkle root. My very own fairy-made witch-detection system. Dragons can’t smell twinkle root, but witches can. Witches find it irresistible.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh, I think you do. There’s a price on your head, witch, and I’m going to cash in. Abacus!” A silver birdlike creature flitted to her side. “Take a message to the Mountain. I have the one who was foretold.”

  The silver creature darted through a small opening near the window. Raven tried to sidestep the fairy and was met with a strong arm and a blade digging into her flesh. Her head was throbbing now, the inebriation from a moment before wearing off. She groaned.

  “You drank the tribiscal wine, didn’t you? Stupid mistake. It’s highly intoxicating to your kind. No wonder you revealed yourself.”

  Where was Gabriel? She had to get out of here and find him. The dagger pressed harder into her throat. “Do not move. I will not let you destroy Paragon.”

  “Why would I want to destroy Paragon?”

  She bared her pointed teeth. “Remain silent.”

  Raven could bear no more. She was beginning to worry about Gabriel. Reaching up, she grabbed the fairy’s wrist and focused on the female. This was a magic creature, and Raven absorbed magic.

  The fairy gasped, then tried to jerk her arm away. Although the knife receded from Raven’s throat, she did not release the fairy witch. She guzzled her magic like it was Kool-Aid. The winged creature paled while her own skin began to take on a purple hue. That’s when she let go. It wouldn’t do to have to walk Hobble Glen the color of a grape.

  The fairy crumpled, holding her throat.

  “I’m sorry,” Raven said, genuinely empathetic for the creature now sinking her cheek into the floor. “You left me no choice.”

  “You… no… ordinary… witch.” The fairy’s labored breathing made her words sound strained.

  “No. I’m not.” Raven had turned to leave when the door burst open and three men barged in wearing matching red-and-black uniforms. Two seized her arms. The third was a man as big and dark as Gabriel. He approached her carrying a silver rod.

  “What’s that?” she asked, meeting his black eyes.

  He thrust it against her bare shoulder. Light flashed and everything went dark.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Gabriel cursed under his breath. That absolute torment of a woman was going to get herself killed! He watched Scoria, the captain of the Obsidian Guard, bind Raven’s wrists behind her and then flop her onto the back of his mountain horse as if she were a sack of grain. The beast, which was the size of an earthly equine but far better on rocky terrain, tossed its head back at the abrupt weight of her body slapping its shoulders. Raven couldn’t be comfortable, but she did not struggle.

  Unconscious, he thought. Two officers Gabriel did not recognize mounted the steeds behind her, and all three galloped toward the mountain.

  Making himself invisible, Gabriel took to the sky, his wings a faster mode of transport than his feet. There were wards around the palace. He’d have to be close to the guards to sneak through undetected. He still wasn’t sure how he would pull it off. He cursed Raven again. Of all the foolish things to do. Scoria was Brynhoff’s right-hand man. He wouldn’t be easy to overcome.

  The horses scaled the rocky terrain on cloven hooves. Even by air, Gabriel had a hard time keeping up. Up ahead, he saw the air shimmer and poured his last ounce of energy into his flight. He dove, swooping in next to Raven, turning sideways to bring his body as close as possible to Scoria’s horse. He was so close his wings brushed the man’s cheek, and Gabriel held his breath when the captain’s gloved hand swatted at the air as if chasing a fly.

  Magic buzzed against Gabriel’s skin as they passed through the barrier, and then the world opened up again. The palace stretched before them in all its splendor, its expansive veranda welcoming them, glistening with polished obsidian and the shimmer of gold and jewels. The entire floor was a mosaic of emeralds, rubies, sapphires and amethysts as well as other precious stones pieced together to depict a dragon curled around a fruit tree.

  The sight of that family crest made Gabriel’s chest hurt. Once upon a time, this had been his home. As a child, he’d played on this floor.

  He hated his uncle then. Hated him with everything he was. For three hundred years he’d convinced himself that he never wanted to return to Paragon, that he could be happy remaining on Earth forever if he had to. Now he wondered if there wasn’t a small part of him that wanted a crack at taking back the throne. Perhaps more than a small part of him wanted vengeance.

  The guards dismounted and Scoria pulled Raven off the horse’s shoulders. It was all Gabriel could do to keep from slitting the man’s throat as he manhandled her toward the throne room. It made his skin crawl and his talons itch to see another man’s hands on her. At least she was awake again. Her eyes roved as she wildly searched her surroundings.

  He followed close behind the guards. The two enormous wooden doors that led to the throne room opened slowly, their ornate carvings dating back thousands of years. Those doors had been here since the dawn of Paragon, back when there was order and not a dictator. He slipped through behind the guards. At the front of the room on a dais, Brynhoff sat on one of two gilded thrones. The other was empty. Had he finally taken a mate?

  “Your Highness, we have secured the witch whose coming the seer has foretold. We bring her to you. We apprehended her in Aborella’s apothecary.” Scoria thrust Raven forward, still gagged, still wearing her mask. Brynhoff leaned forward, sniffing and scowling at her.

  “She smells of dragon. Are you sure she’s a witch?”

  Raven mumbled loudly through the gag.

  “Let her speak,” Brynhoff demanded. “I want to hear what she has to say.”

  No sooner had Scoria untied her gag than Gabriel’s beloved launched into a tirade. “Of course I am a dragon. I am no witch! These men accosted me as I was trying to participate in Pyre Night. What is the meaning of this?”

  Scoria placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, and it was all Gabriel could do to maintain his invisibility and his distance. If he got too close, Brynhoff might recognize his scent.

  Brynhoff crossed one leg over the other. “What proof do you have this woman is a witch, Captain?”

  “Aborella pointed her out herself. Said this woman drained her of her power.”

  Raven gasped in convincing outrage. “Me? Do I look like I could drain anyone of anything? Believe me, if I had the power of a witch, I wouldn’t allow myself to be bound like this.” She turned her shoulders to show the king how uncomfortably her wrists were tied.

  “I don’t recognize you. I thought I was aware of all females in my kingdom. What is your family line?”

  “I am the youngest daughter of Roosevelt,” she said, and Gabriel had to smile. Roosevelt was the name of the bartender at the Silver Sunset. She must have heard his name spoken at the bar. He was indeed the owner and drunk most of the time, but he did have children, legitimate and illegit
imate. “I am Freya. I am rarely allowed out in public.”

  Scoria grumbled in protest. “She is lying.”

  But Gabriel could see the lie was working, in no small part because Brynhoff was likely taken with her beauty. His uncle leaned back in his chair, a flirtatious smile crossing his face.

  “Relax, dear lady. There is one sure way to settle this. Show us your wings.” Brynhoff circled his hand and scanned her lasciviously.

  Gabriel ground his teeth.

  “Excuse me?” Raven said, her voice cracking and breathless with what Gabriel suspected was real fear. “I am not the type of female who shows her wings to strangers.”

  Good girl, Gabriel thought. That was exactly what a female of his species would say.

  “Do it, young one, or I will be forced to treat you as the witch they say you are.”

  Brynhoff, you fucking bastard, Gabriel thought. Raven swallowed so hard Gabriel could see her throat bob from across the room.

  “Can you untie my hands at least? The positioning is uncomfortable.”

  Sweat dripped down her temple. She was working on something. Gabriel could feel it down the bond. In fact, there was so much magic coming off her, he was surprised his uncle couldn’t smell it. Then again, Gabriel couldn’t actually smell it either. Raven must be doing something to cloak her scent.

  “Do it,” Brynhoff commanded.

  With a sneer, Scoria sliced through the ropes binding her wrists with his sword. She rubbed each one with her opposite hand, and then, as if by some miracle, two fleshy wings emerged from Raven’s back. Gabriel had no idea how she was doing it. The necklace she wore might provide some assistance with making her appear more beautiful, but it could not make a viewer see wings that were not there. They looked convincing, although he noticed they seemed to hang limply from her back. He wondered if she could actually move them.

  “Happy?” Raven said, succeeding in making her voice sound both humiliated and angry.

  Brynhoff waved again. “Yes. Good. Put them away, dear.”