Sleeping Dragons

by Phoebe Ravencraft

“If that’s what you wish, Ms. Kincaide,” Scott said. “But I think you would be more valuable as a permanent member of The Order.”

  Yeah, I’ll just bet you do. Lying asshole.

  “Are Nephilim required to join The Order?” I asked.

  “No, but—”

  “Then this will be my last and only job for you,” I said. “Once it’s done, I go back to my life, and you people leave me the hell alone. I suspect Big Bro here would prefer it that way.”

  “I’d prefer you leave now,” Ephraim said. “But apparently, I don’t get any say in that.”

  “Damn straight, you don’t,” I said. “I make my own decisions.”

  “Welcome aboard, Ms. Kincaide,” Scott said.

  “Yeah, thanks,” I said, leaving no doubt I was insincere. “So what happens next?”

  “First, you’ll need training with the decharmer,” Scott said. “They require a delicate touch.”

  “I’ll teach you,” Ash said. “I design them.”

  “Fine,” I said. “Let’s get going. As soon as the dragon’s party is over, I’m done with you people.”

  I had no idea how wrong that would be.

  Sixteen

  I started my decharmer training right after the briefing. Ash led me into a subbasement. It was brightly lit with fluorescent lights, and the walls were featureless cement. It looked like it belonged in one of Tony Stark’s secret research facilities.

  In the center of the room was a four-foot-high table with a wooden case resting on it. The room was otherwise empty. I looked over at Ash.

  “Hoping to get me alone?” I said.

  “What?” His eyes went wide, and he blushed. “Uh, no, I . . .”

  I giggled. I couldn’t help it. He was too damned cute and way too easily embarrassed. If this guy was a half-sex-demon, his dad clearly hadn’t passed on the charm.

  “Relax,” I said. “I’m just joking.”

  “Oh,” he said. Relief washed over him. “Uh, that’s good. I mean—”

  “What are we doing here, Ash?” I asked.

  He continued to look befuddled. I was starting to think it was a good thing he would be in the truck for the mission.

  “I need to teach you to use the decharmer,” he said. “Now, this is more or less what you’ll be looking at in D’Krisch Mk’Rai’s vault.”

  “An empty room?”

  “No,” he said, sounding just a shade testy. I grinned. “There will be treasure of every variety. But the Jeweled Dagger of Constantinople will be locked in a case on some sort of pedestal.

  “The case will be locked with magical wards. You’ll use this to defeat them.”

  He offered me an ugly-ass ring with a stone the size of a marble and the color of puke on it.

  “That is the ugliest damned ring I’ve ever seen in my life,” I said. “I’m not wearing that.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. I am not wearing some Dollar Store piece of costume jewelry to the heist. You’re gonna have to design something better looking than that.”

  “Sassy, what the ring looks like doesn’t matter.”

  “The hell it don’t!”

  What was the matter with this boy? How could a sex-demon not understand that girls needed pretty things to tempt them with? Did he think I wanted to wear camo shorts and combat boots to the charity ball?

  “Sassy, you’re missing the point,” he said.

  “No, you are,” I replied. “If you want me to slip into a ritzy charity party to pull off this assassination, I have got to look like a girl with class. No girl would wear anything that ugly to a fancy dress ball. You’re going to have to make me something else.”

  He sighed, and his shoulders sagged. It was another point for me. I could see that already. Poor Ash. He was really overmatched here.

  “Fine,” he said. “I will craft you something more attractive for the fundraiser. In the interim, will you please practice with this one?”

  I looked at it in disgust. I knew I needed to learn how to use it, but just having it near me made me doubt my own fashion sense. I took it from him anyway and slipped it on my finger.

  “Okay, now what?” I asked.

  “All right, put your hand on the box,” he instructed.

  I rolled my eyes and obeyed.

  “Do you feel that?” he asked.

  “Feel what?”

  “The magical energy.”

  I stared at the box for a moment, unsure what I should expect to see.

  “No,” I said. “I feel nothing.”

  Ash frowned. Damn, that was cute too. His freaking sex-demon pheromones were messing with my damned head again.

  “That’s odd,” he said. “You should be able to feel something.”

  He put a hand to the case and closed his eyes. I watched as he concentrated. God damn it, he was really sexy. His black curls fell over his forehead in perfect, disheveled disorder. His dark skin was perfect – not a blemish on it. It was late morning, and he was already sporting five o’clock shadow. And, God, the smell of him – musky, sweet, tempting. I had to shake my head to ward off the urge to kiss him.

  After a second, he opened his eyes. I almost drowned in those glittering, black irises.

  “It’s definitely been charmed,” he said. “You should be able to— What?”

  “What?”

  “You’re staring at me. What’s the matter?”

  Damn it! I realized his beauty was distracting me. How the hell was I supposed to work with this guy, when he kept turning me on? Maybe Erin should be training me. She was good-looking too, but at least I wasn’t overwhelmed with the urge to jump into bed with her.

  “Sorry,” I said. “It’s just . . .”

  “Just what?”

  “God damn it, Ash, you’re too fucking beautiful. Turn off the incubus charm, so I can focus.”

  That embarrassed look I found so endearing washed over him again. I was starting to think this wasn’t going to work.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I can’t really control it. The pheromones just release.”

  I sighed.

  “What were you saying?” I asked.

  “You should be able to feel something,” he said. “The charm is definitely in place. Try again.”

  I closed my eyes so I wouldn’t be tempted by him. Maybe that was the issue. Then I focused on the box beneath my hand. After several seconds, I felt nothing.

  “Nope,” I said.

  “Hmm. Okay, listen, magic is a little like music. Every spell has a rhythm, a pitch, a melody. You should be able to detect a hum, a song.”

  I put that idea at the front of my brain, tried to make it the reality. After a few seconds, I thought I could feel a beat – bum-bum-ba-rah, bum-bum-ba-rah. It was like the lead-in to a song, but I couldn’t so much hear it as feel it.

  “I think I’ve got it,” I said.

  “Good,” Ash said. “Now, try to disrupt it.”

  “How?”

  “The decharmer should be able to sync with the energy you feel. Use the decharmer to alter the flow of that magical energy. That will disrupt the spell and cause it to fail.”

  I frowned. How the hell did you change the beat of a rhythm you heard? It would be like going to the drummer from the show and telling him to do something different. He’d tell you to get lost.

  Even so, I listened to that beat – bum-bum-ba-rah, bum-bum-ba-rah – and tried to make it different. I beat out a different rhythm in my head – bum-bum-bum-bum, bum-bum-bum-bum. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut and focused on that new beat until I couldn’t hear the old one anymore.

  “Okay,” I said. “Got it.”

  “Good. Now open the case.”

  I opened my eyes and lifted the lid. There was a loud bang and a bright, blue flash. I screamed and jumped away.

  Ash stood next to the pedestal as though nothing had happened. I thought I might need to change my pants.

  “What the hell was that?” I yelled.

  “
You failed to decharm the box,” he said, as though it should be obvious. “That set off the trap.”

  I looked at my hands and arms, fearing maybe I’d turned myself into a frog or become covered with some horrific rash. Everything looked normal.

  “I don’t get it,” I said.

  “The box is charmed to give off a burst of light and sound if the ward isn’t defeated before opening it,” Ash said. “You didn’t disarm it, so the spell went off.”

  Now I was mad. That thing had scared the shit out of me. He hadn’t warned me? And I thought I’d done what he’d told me.

  “Why didn’t it work?” I asked.

  “You were not properly attuned with the magic,” he answered, once again sounding like this was very elementary stuff.

  “Well, how the hell do I get attuned?” I demanded.

  “It takes practice, Sassy,” he said. “No one gets it the first time. You have to learn what the magic really feels like, so you can alter it.”

  I crossed my arms. He was pissing me off.

  “Ash, I have no damned clue what you are talking about.”

  “Here, try again,” he said.

  He shut the case and stepped away from it. Cautiously, I walked over.

  “Go ahead,” he said, reading the mistrust in my eyes. “Put your hand on it, and try to find the rhythm like you did before.”

  I scowled and obeyed. Closing my eyes again, so I wouldn’t have to look at him, I quieted the beating of my heart and searched for the rhythm.

  It eluded me for several seconds. I just couldn’t find it. Then finally, I felt it pricking my palm – Bum-bum-bum-bah! Bum-bum-bum-bah!

  “It’s different this time,” I said.

  “It shouldn’t be,” Ash replied. “Look deeper.”

  I frowned again and shut out every other sound. Bum-bum-bum-bah! Bum-bum-bum-bah!

  “It is,” I said. “It’s a totally different rhythm.”

  “All right,” he said. “You must have misheard it the first time. That would explain why you weren’t able to decharm it. Try it this time.”

  I hadn’t misheard it the first time. It was different now than it was then. But I had no experience with this sort of thing, so I just went with it.

  Spreading my fingers as wide as I could on the wood, I tried to make it change again. Boomity-boom. Boomity-boom. I concentrated as hard as I could. Soon, all I could hear was the new beat I’d made.

  “Okay,” I said. “Got it.”

  “So open the box.”

  I did. The damned thing exploded in light and sound again. I jumped.

  “God damn it!” I screamed.

  “Relax, Sassy,” Ash said. “This isn’t an easy thing. Try again.”

  Frustrated, I closed the case and made a third attempt. This time I heard another totally different beat. I tried to alter it. I failed.

  Pissed, I stormed away from the table. Ash stood there, looking all sympathetic and nice. It made me want to punch him.

  “You’ll get it, Sassy,” he assured me.

  “You’re not listening, Ash,” I replied. “Every time I try, the rhythm is different. I change it in my head, but it isn’t working.”

  “You’re trying to force the magic out,” he said. “You’ve got to draw it in. Let the ring do the work.”

  “Ash, how the hell am I supposed to do that? I’m immune to magic. You guys told me so. If I’m immune to magic, how can I draw it into myself?”

  That got him. I could tell by the look on his face, this hadn’t occurred to him before. I could also see that it was worrisome. If I couldn’t absorb the magical energy through the decharmer, I couldn’t alter it. It was obvious that was how it worked. And if I couldn’t do that, the whole plan of killing Mk’Rai with the cursed knife was out the window.

  “Your magical immunity shouldn’t be a problem,” he said. “The decharmer should be doing the work. You just have to key it.”

  “Yeah, but if I can’t use magic, I can’t make the ring work,” I countered. “I have to be able to magically manipulate it somehow. And I’m a block. I’m like kryptonite to Superman. I take the power away.”

  Ash looked truly worried at that analogy. If I was kryptonite, there was no magic I could use. It was no workaround to just give me a decharmer. Unlike a tech device, there was no “on” switch I could flip.

  “Let’s try it again,” he said.

  “Are you serious?” I said, throwing him my best outraged look.

  “Trust me, Sassy. This should work, even for someone like you who is immune to magic. Brinson can use one, and she’s not magical at all.”

  “Then maybe she should kill the dragon,” I retorted.

  “Sassy—”

  “Yeah, yeah. She doesn’t have the right skill set. She isn’t immune to the dragon’s weapons. She’s having a bad week. Whatever, Ash. If I can’t get this, you guys had better come up with a new plan.”

  “You’ll get it,” he said, feigning confidence.

  I was not reassured.

  “This is bullshit,” I said.

  Then I closed the case and put my hand on it. This time I could detect no rhythm at all. It was like the world had gone dead. I closed my eyes and saw only darkness.

  “Is it not working now?” I asked. “I can’t detect any magic.”

  “It’s working,” Ash assured me.

  I searched deeper in the darkness. I found nothing.

  “I can’t find it, Ash. I can’t find it at all. It’s like it’s been turned off. Or I have.”

  “Sassy, you’re getting in your own head now,” he said. “You’re telling yourself you can’t do it, so you can’t.”

  “Don’t hand me that Henry Ford shit,” I said. “I can’t do it, because I actually don’t perceive anything. I need more than the power of positive thinking to pull this shit off.”

  He cocked his head and looked confused. This cute act of his was really starting to piss me off.

  “Henry Ford shit?” he asked.

  “Yes! Henry Ford! Founder of the Ford Motor Company. Pioneer of exploiting workers through assembly-line jobs. One of his famous quotes is, ‘Whether you think you can, or you think you can’t, you’ll be right.’ I had to listen to all kinds of that shit while I was growing up. Mama thought it would inspire us.”

  “Damn, that’s pretty insightful,” Ash said, as though I weren’t there.

  “Fuck you, Ash!” I shouted. “It’s not insightful. It’s trite. And it doesn’t help. I can’t feel the magic.”

  He sighed. Then he hit me with those pretty eyes again.

  “Sassy, I know it seems impossible—”

  “Cuz, it is,” I said.

  “But you can accomplish it,” he said, completely ignoring my interruption. “You have to quiet your mind. You’re letting your frustration do the thinking. That doesn’t help.”

  God damn him. That was actually smart advice. It was the kind of thing I told my students. Shit.

  “Okay,” I said.

  I walked to the pedestal, stared at the damned box, and put my hand on it. Then I shut my eyes.

  I tried to hear the music or at least detect the beat I had before. There was nothing. I wanted to scream.

  Stop it, Sassy, I thought. Clear your damned mind.

  I breathed in through my nose, deliberately slowed my respiration so I could let whatever it was come to me. I listened to my heart.

  This time I heard no beat. But there was a hum. I could feel it tickling across my palm. I focused in on it. I saw patterns in my mind. The waves were green, and they flickered and arced.

  “Now,” Ash said, “feel the connection between the decharmer and the ward. Sync them.”

  Without opening my eyes, I stared at the ugly ring on my finger. It glowed with blue light in the picture in my mind. I moved the blue sparks onto the green waves. They popped and turned purple.

  Yes! I had it!

  I opened the box. The bang was so loud and unexpected I fell backward and
landed on my ass in a humiliating heap. Ash looked shocked. I shook my head.

  “I can’t do it, Ash,” I said, trying not to cry. “I don’t know how.”

  He stared at me, doubt filling those pretty eyes until they overflowed. His expression said it all:

  I was going to fail.

  Seventeen

  T he only good thing about that whole, shitty training exercise was that I got out of it by needing to meet Ben at three. Ash drilled me over and over on the decharmer, and I just could not get it. The harder I tried, the less successful I was. So I was more than a little relieved when I told him I had to go.

  Of course, seeing Ben promised to be equally shitty. Today was Mama’s birthday, so he insisted we visit her grave together. We did this every year. I hated it, but it was important to Obi-Wan, so I sucked it up and went along.

  This year promised to be especially fun. After all, I’d spent the morning failing at the apparently simple task of operating a decharmer. I couldn’t wait to have Ben go all judgmental on me about how Mama would have wanted something better for me. What the fuck did he know about what Mama “wanted” for me. Apparently, she’d my hidden true identity from everyone. Including me.

  That’s probably why I didn’t show up on time. I was dreading every moment of this. By the time I got to Java Jive, Ben was already there waiting for me. I checked my phone. It was 3:09. Okay, fine. So I was late. I wasn’t that late.

  Ben stood by the door, his hands stuffed into an expensive, black overcoat. His suit pants were charcoal grey, and he had immaculate, black loafers on his feet. It was unseasonably cold today, so he had the coat buttoned up. I couldn’t see his tie, but I was certain it was the picture of classy professional.

  My brother was handsome. Like me, he was light-skinned, but he was several shades darker. He also had the wide nose, chocolate-brown eyes, and jawbone of your average African-American. His hair was cut super-short, so he could look the part of upscale lawyer, but it was definitely kinky. Ben looked Black in a way I did not. It made sense. I’d seen pictures of his dad. He was Black too, whereas mine, it turns out, was white.

  “Hey, Obi-Wan,” I said, putting on a cheerful smile.

  Ben scowled at my use of the nickname he hated. I knew I shouldn’t use it, especially today. But no matter how grown-up I got, I just couldn’t lose the little-sister act. Heh. Ask Ephraim.