Dragon: The Clan Legacy Series

by J. S. Striker

  What a lost cause.

  But no, Francesca wasn’t going to complain about any of that. She could deal. She’d been dealing with it for a couple of years now, and doing so had taught her that in times like these, all you needed to do was keep a cool head and an easy smile on your face.

  She was going to complain about one thing, though—the fact that the too-sunny weather wouldn’t let her wear the latest coat she’d bought in a thrift shop. It was absolutely gorgeous. Obviously, something that gorgeous needed to be seen.

  The honk of a taxi brought her out of her thoughts, and Francesca looked one more time at the congested road that didn’t seem to be waning. With a sigh, she took out some change and gave it to the cab driver, then got out of the taxi and onto the sidewalk that was just as crowded as the road itself. At least it was the moving kind. Walking seemed to be the best option if she wanted to get to her destination on time.

  And this client absolutely despised it when one was late.

  Sweat trickled down her back as she navigated the busy streets, and it was just morning. She took out her sunglasses and wore them, then removed the cardigan she had on, leaving her in only her tank top and ripped jeans—and her ever-trusty worn sneakers. Not lessening her pace, Francesca tied the cardigan around her waist and tied her hair up in a ponytail. Some curls got out, but a majority of her hair held. Lastly, she tucked the pendant she had inside the tank top, in between her cleavage—a green jade that was spelled to keep whatever shifter traits she had hidden from unwanted attention.

  Much better.

  She took out a few more coins from her back pocket and stopped by the ice cream vendor, getting a vanilla cone, extra scoop. The store owner, Mr. Manjuria, told her to take care, and she winked at him before continuing. Licking the ice cream helped alleviate the heat, and she resolved that she was going to get a gallon of it and store it in her freezer—then start eating it tonight with that dollar chocolate fudge from the convenience store.

  Okay, two gallons.

  A few minutes later, her destination came into view. Francesca slipped into the alley and entered the old building that said Wallace & Wallace, faded gray with age. Inside wasn’t as old as the outside seemed.

  It was also bigger than one would normally expect upon first entry.

  The interior of the building had stalls—stalls lined up in every corner, selling all kinds of merchandise. While the building’s front entrance was completely closed off, with a padlock on the main door, the back of the building was made of a grill gate that could easily be slid to the side via its bottom wheels during daytime for easy access inside. This back portion was the main entrance for the tourists, and even this early in the morning, they were already milling about in spades, eyeing the knickknacks lying around.

  Some of the peddlers yelled their merchandise, while others sat in their chairs and simply watched the crowd. Francesca bypassed the busy section and navigated through the more quiet ones until she reached the room almost at the back of the building where a signage said Wonder Magic in big bold letters. She nodded at the man standing beside the door, a bulky black American named Lloyd, who nodded back almost sternly.

  “Almost late,” Lloyd intoned under his breath.

  “Not quite,” Francesca muttered, making a dash for the door.

  “Dealers are here,” Lloyd said.

  Oh, hell. Then they were early.

  She practically made a run for the inside, almost out of breath by the time she opened the curtain partition of stringed beads to the room’s even tinier meeting room. Two men were already seated, and she knew Mya was around somewhere, invisible and watching from a safe distance.

  Yikes. Time to get the party started.

  With a bold clearing of her throat, Francesca stepped forward and stood in front of the two men. She saw their gazes sweep her from feet up and noted the appreciative looks even before they got to her face. She used that body now to tilt her hip sexily, gracing them with a sultry smile.

  “Good morning, gentlemen. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting on this lovely day.”

  Then she sat down and got down to business.

  *****

  Two hours later, the exchange was done and the two men were gone, satisfied with their end of the bargain. Francesca did a happy little dance in her head, grinning as she remembered how well she wrapped those two around her finger—then took what she wanted without so much as a bat of her eyelash.

  The stringed beads parted, and a shimmering was visible before Mya appeared in front of her in all her sexy glory. Golden-green eyes focused on Francesca sharply as she stood up.

  “Well?” Mya asked, tone a tad bit impatient.

  Triumphantly, Francesca whipped out a small envelope and a bundle of stones in a small pouch. Mya made a move to grab it, but Francesca was faster and whipped her hand back, holding her other hand out.

  “Now I need my fix,” she said casually.

  Mya raised a brow in silence. Then she just as quietly took out a small wad of cash and a small bottle with a thick green liquid inside.

  Francesca quickly snatched it and gave her the envelope and the bundle, grinning.

  “You know that’s going to be bad for your health eventually,” the witch commented with a grimace before leaving the room.

  “Don’t care,” Francesca called out—though she was pretty sure the other woman was completely gone, and probably wouldn’t care either way.

  With a sigh that the start of her day was somewhat successful, Francesca carefully placed the potion and the money in a small leather pouch that she had tucked around her waist. She’d counted the cash earlier and determined it was enough to pay this month’s rent—but she still needed some more for her daily necessities.

  This meant she had the entire time after lunch to make some more deals and earn more money.

  A sliver of pain crawled up her back up to the left side of her face, and she touched it out of habit. It still felt smooth, which meant the last potion she took was still in effect…though not for long. She needed to take the potion in her pouch tonight, else things were going to go south.

  “You okay there, Ren?”

  Francesca blinked at the use of her alternate name—the one she’d taken on the moment she’d disappeared from New York, when she’d been a teenager following a bleeding woman on the streets, not knowing it was going to change her life forever. She smiled at Lloyd, nodding her head.

  “I’m great! And I’m off to lunch in a bit. Want to come with me?”

  Lloyd shook his head, then gave her his version of a smile—sort of like a grimace. “Rain check. I still have to do some stuff. But have fun.”

  Right. With one last smile, Francesca left the room and already thought of the food she was going to eat.

  Pizza sounded nice.

  *****

  Her afternoon was spent scurrying around the streets of Los Angeles—meeting up with people who wanted potions and materials from unnamed sources—and steadily earning as she did so. Francesca had a certain instinct when it came to shady people, and she did her best to stay as far away from them as possible and keep to the nicer ones. Mya wasn’t her only source—but Mya was the one with the most powerful potions and connections, hence, most of her income came from the said witch. Still, the money she counted in her pocket by the time she was done was high enough to keep her needs met, with enough to save for the rainy day.

  A little bit of grocery shopping and Francesca was all set up to go back home. Her apartment was located in a middle-class neighborhood, the cheapest she could find with enough space for a kitchen and a bedroom. Her living room was the most important thing about the apartment—spacious, with just enough room for her to shift.

  Or attempt to.

  She practically skipped the last step to the third floor, exhausted but very much excited to eat her ice cream and get a glass of cold water to quench her thirst. The Thai food she’d ordered was still hot in its box, and a combination of that plus
some iced tea for dinner sounded really, really good at the moment, so much so that it was all she could do not to run inside and get to eating—

  The impact happened before she could comprehend it. Francesca only saw her food and groceries flying before her own fall registered, and she immediately put out her hands to stop herself from falling face-flat. A grunt sounded below her, and she gave out a yelp as she found herself spinning then…not meeting the floor.

  Francesca found herself stuck in mid-air, with a pair of arms around her waist.

  And she was staring at deep, dark eyes that suddenly seemed to be the only eyes worth staring at in the world.

  Her thoughts sent an alarm ringing in her head, and Francesca got herself together enough to disentangle and take a few step backwards. She did a quick check of the man who’d just bumped into her and caught her, finding formal shoes, black jeans fitting muscled legs perfectly, a dark blue sweater that hugged a lean figure, and—

  Oh, boy.

  Probably the most arresting face she’d ever seen.

  The eyes she was gazing in earlier were actually gray, but almost black so that they practically matched the short black hair swept back neatly. His nose was straight and his mouth was firm, the combination making her think that he probably never smiled a lot. He looked Asian, except not really—there was a hint of something else there, a mix that was captured perfectly in his face.

  Hot, hot, hot.

  Francesca realized she’d been staring—and he had her smashed box and pack of groceries in his hand.

  “I apologize for that,” he said, voice deep and polite. She took her stuff and nodded her head, deciding that flirting with the hot guy was perhaps the best way to cap off the night.

  “You don’t need to worry about it,” she purred, giving him a slow smile that usually worked with the men she dealt with in her job. She expected him to smile back, or perhaps acknowledge her with a glint in his eye.

  Instead, he kept staring at her with no reaction on his face. Then, a forced smile.

  Then he abruptly turned and went inside the door of the apartment across from hers. AKA, he was a new neighbor.

  Francesca blinked, unsure whether to be amused or insulted. Or confused. She touched her face again, found it still smooth.

  Huh. Hot guy wasn’t interested.

  With a shrug, she turned to her own apartment and decided to forget about him.

  *****

  The pain started half an hour later when she was still in the middle of finishing her curry rice and sipping on her tea. The glass fell to the floor with a crash, and it was all Francesca could do not to scream as her body throbbed intensely. She half-walked, half-crawled to where she left the pouch on the kitchen table, cursing and whimpering as her hand fumbled twice before she could get the glass bottle open. She gulped the green liquid, lay back on the floor, and trembled.

  A particular slice of pain made her hands fist the living room rug, then bite her lip to keep herself silent.

  A few minutes was all it took. Soon, the pain leveled down to a tolerable degree until it was completely gone, and all that was left was numbness.

  More than a year ago, she’d followed the bleeding woman, whom she didn’t know was a witch, and that had led her to Mya, the witch who was powerful enough to give her what she needed. The bleeding witch was gone, apparently an enemy that Mya didn’t want to discuss, and Francesca had pleaded with Mya to take her wherever she was and give her what she needed, in exchange for her service and loyalty to the witch.

  What she wanted was to be beautiful again, and for the pain to go away.

  What she wanted was to be able to shift again, when the time was right.

  You know that’s going to be bad for your health, eventually.

  Mya’s last words echoed in her head, and Francesca closed her eyes and blocked it out. Soon, there was going to be a permanent cure, as promised.

  She just needed to bide her time until she was free.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Charlie Alexander Takeshi had hit the jackpot.

  True, it had taken him more than a couple of years to do so, but he did it all the same, which was the most important thing. Missions like this took time, and if there was one thing Charlie valued more than anything, it was perfection and precision.

  His mission—given to him by his dragon clan leader, Henrik Mikhailov, and the leader of all shifter clans, Dylan Masters—was actually very simple: he needed to find a runaway teenage shifter from a prominent family and bring her back home safe. Said teenage shifter had been known to be notorious for finding trouble, and for rebelling against her parents' wishes.

  What he hadn't expected was for the teenager to be good at keeping up the disappearing act.

  It took Charlie a whole year just to get a whiff of her name in the underground because Francesca Alison didn't use that name anymore. The underground, where illegal and dangerous magic was usually sold or bargained, was also the last place he'd looked, considering he never really expected a shifter to voluntarily work with witches.

  Or for witches.

  Francesca now went by Ren Malone, and apparently the nineteen-year-old girl was currently posing as someone older—and doing illegal things for and with dangerous creatures.

  It took the better part of a few months after that first year trying to figure out her exact location. Once Charlie did, it was only a matter of going to Los Angeles and searching for her, in which he became surprised that she wasn't the scarred girl he'd seen in her pictures. In photos, Francesca was a simple looking girl with a dimple on her right cheek and a huge, angry scar on her left.

  In person, there was no scar. Francesca's face was smooth and unmarred, and she had the kind of beauty that glowed.

  And she didn't look like a little girl.

  Charlie didn't waste any time in renting out the place across from where she lived, figuring he needed to observe her first before making any sudden movements. For all he knew, she was working with witches that he really shouldn't cross, considering the delicate balance between his world and theirs. He needed to handle this with care—to make sure everyone was none the wiser should he take her out of their world.

  His first few days observing Francesca made him aware that she usually went out early in the morning wearing nothing but tank tops and jeans—sometimes even shorts, cut so short that they showed off long legs that should probably be illegal on teenagers. Sometimes she wore summer dresses that were thin and hugged her slim curves a little bit too much.

  She always returned home at night, and it made him wonder just what exactly she was up to that required her to be out all day. Francesca's family was rich. If she needed money, she could always go back home.

  Thursday morning, Francesca was right on schedule as she came out of her apartment door. Casually, Charlie came out of his too, and they faced each other in the hallway with differing expressions on their faces—her with surprise on hers and his with...well, he didn't react.

  She was wearing her usual tank top, this time partnered with a short, pleated skirt of checkered red and black. Her legs were bare, save for the sneakers she had on, and her brown hair was a mess of waves all over her shoulders. He also noticed that she wasn't wearing a bra—a fact that he knew he shouldn't be noticing at all.

  The surprised look on her face had turned to pleasure at the sight of him, and for the life of him, Charlie couldn't stop the stirring that happened inside his body. He mentally cursed himself and rigidly held himself still, watching as the smile on her face turned tentative before dropping altogether and forming into a frown when he didn't acknowledge her.

  Without a word, she turned and headed downstairs.

  He counted a few seconds in his head before silently entering her unit.

  *****

  Her apartment unit looked like a bomb might have been dropped in the middle, and it had simply never recovered.

  The bedroom was a mess—sheets undone, clothes lying everywhere, and her mone
y in a tiny safe that could be picked by a professional in less than five minutes. The kitchen was stacked haphazardly with all kinds of food, from chips to cans of dip, then jars of whatever frosting there was. Apparently Francesca liked junk food more than most, though her fridge also had some fruit and vegetable options.

  Her living room was the most puzzling thing. It was completely empty, save for the expensive-looking rug on the hardwood floor. He wondered what she did with her furniture here, or if she even ordered anything at all.

  Charlie had just gotten out of her apartment after finding nothing incriminating when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out and saw his dragon leader texting him to call as soon as possible. He dialed at once, and Henrik answered on the second ring.

  “That was fast,” was Henrik’s first comment instead of a hello.

  “Yeah. What’s up?”

  “I wanted to check how the search is so far.”

  “Kindly tell Dylan everything’s going good,” Charlie replied, getting to the answer of his question. The search for Francesca wasn’t exactly a priority among the shifters, but being from a prominent family apparently held a high status with their Alpha leader. “I will bring her back to New York in a few days, after I find the right approach.”

  “You realize you can always just drag her back however much she protests, don’t you?”

  “I’d rather bring her willingly, Henrik,” Charlie said smoothly.

  The leader on the other line growled a bit, but said nothing contradictory. His friends already knew what was up with Charlie—and that was that he never, ever compromised anyone if possible. This included whatever thin thread connected Francesca to the witches—and in turn, connected the shifters to that world.

  While there were nice witches in the world—like Sophia, his fellow dragon shifter’s wife and mate—there were a whole bunch of them that just weren’t worth keeping ties with.

  “Listen,” Henrik was saying, “I was calling for another reason, actually.”

  “Yes?”

  “We’ve got intel that Mya is in Los Angeles.”