by Livia Quinn
“Be right back,” Jordie said not looking at me when she passed. With more “tude” then our dragon, she stomped to the front porch. If I needed any further proof of the moons’ influence I had only to look at Jordie’s actions. My normally even-tempered, easy-going, and easy to reason with daughter had turned into a stereotypical problem teen with terrible judgment. All she needed was Goth-wear to complete the rebel persona. Hurry, sundown.
While I closed the door to the porch, she leaned against one of the columns, her jaw clenched, arms crossed, ears closed. At least that’s what it felt like.
I took a deep breath and dove in. ”Jordie, there’s no fun way to put this. I need you to give me a blood sample. I promise I won’t hurt you.”
Her arms went around her sides as her eyes widened. She looked like a trapped animal, which didn’t do great things for my heart. The gum chewing took on furious levels. “What the—”
“Don’t you dare say it,” I gritted and she backed off. But then it got worse. Tears sprang into her eyes and dropped down those pretty pink cheeks. I reached for her but she batted me away with her hands. It hurt, even more than I’d expected, knowing as I did that she wasn’t herself. Because of Georgeanne’s bizarre actions during her life, we’d bonded more than most father-daughter relationships, which made the contrast in her attitude today even more pronounced. Just yesterday she feared her mother’s presence in Destiny would “ruin her life”, or repel Tempe. So how was I supposed to explain this to her?
I did what any man does when faced with the tears of a female he loves. I lied. “I… want to make sure you don’t have some weird infection. You seem a little warm.” I exacerbated the lie by placing the back of my hand against her forehead.
The look she gave me and her posture cried, Puleeze, you can come up with something better than that. But I put on my cop face and waited her out. Finally she relaxed. I said, “Please, baby. Humor me. You can’t tell me you’re not curious.”
The chewing stopped and she heaved out a sigh. “Okay, but not you. That would be just too weird.”
I laughed, without humor. “Okay. I’ll ask Montana.” Maybe this would lead to a way to break the whole truth to her, another day. Whatever her Paramortal identity was going to be she wouldn’t have it today anyway.
“Give me a hug?” She crossed her arms once again and glared at me. “Right, pushing my luck. All right, I’ll send Montana up.”
She pushed past me to go inside, but turning back at the last minute Jordie’s mournful eyes bored into mine, “Daddy—”
Her sad eyes nearly broke my heart. I swallowed, “Yes, hon.”
“I never had a tattoo.”
She turned to stomp away, but turned back again when I said, “And Jordie?”
“Uh-huh?”
Her expression was so young and vulnerable, I ached at what was in store for her. “I love you.” With a shrug of her shoulders she walked into the house and closed the door.
I sighed and leaned against the doorjamb. The hard rock tune I’d attached to my wingman’s caller ID rang out. “Lang—”
Ryan’s words came fast. I knew that meant more trouble. “Jack, you have to see this!” Then the sound of my deputy coughing or gagging came through the line.
“You okay?” I asked, frowning. Ryan had a strong stomach, but sometimes a man could be shocked by something he’d never seen.
“I started to drop Georgeanne off like you said,” he cleared his throat, “but she demanded I take her to the Wasted Turtle instead. Before that, she was coming across the seat flirting with me. That woman is off the charts—unhinged, I mean. You can see it in her eyes.”
“Ryan…”
“Yeah, sorry. Anyway, I figure it was all a cover for her real motive. She succeeded in distracting me and I took her to the bar. I didn’t think you cared where she went, but when I was driving off I saw her walk around the building. I turned around, and sure enough, she didn’t even go in. No sign of her.” He cleared his throat again.
“I asked the bartender if he’d seen her. His exact words were, ‘That weird psycho scares me!’ He volunteered that the last time he’d seen her was on Fritz’ porch this morning. So it got me thinking about why she didn’t want me to take her to Fritz’s.” Ryan was being particularly long-winded, but I didn’t interrupt fearing we’d waste even more precious time. “—’s dead.”
The connection dropped, and my beleaguered mind missed the most important part. “Who’s dead?” I could only hope…
“Fritz. Is. Dead. Belay that. There’s no body, but if the blood on the floor of his place and the…eyeball I found match, he couldn’t be alive.”
“You found an eyeball?” I couldn’t imagine what Ryan was seeing so I had him explain in detail.
“Blood spray around the front room, on the rug and on the furniture mostly, a lot of it. And there was this fork still, uh…” he cleared his throat again… “embedded in a single eyeball. The veins and ligaments were wrapped around the fork like spaghetti.” He coughed and continued. “Jack, it looked like it had been used to pop the eyeball out of the socket. The color was fading but you could tell it was green once.”
“No body? Signs of a struggle?” I asked.
“No body, and get this, no sign of it being dragged even two feet. I’m not a forensics expert by any means, but it doesn’t take one to tell that someone really, really strong picked up the dead weight of that body and carted it away. Either that or Fritz walked out in that condition without leaving tracks and died elsewhere.”
I whistled. My only experience with this had been when the Nucklavee had walked away from the slab at the Medical Examiner’s Office, just hours after Tempe found him dead at the golf club. “Ryan, this is going to sound strange…”
Ryan just laughed.
“…But did you smell anything?” I didn’t want to influence his answer by reminding him about the rank odor of rotten eggs and three day old fish the Nucklavee’s body had put off.
“Nothing really, except the aroma of grease, moldy pizza and trash. Lots of trash.”
I let out a breath. Ryan was by himself, and I’d given everyone who wasn’t in the know the day off for Mardi Gras. Luckily we had a convenient excuse. The only one who’d resisted the plan had been my workaholic dispatcher, Peggy. So I let her work and prayed I could keep her in the dark. I couldn’t help it though, I felt better having her at the helm on the radio should a human emergency arise.
“What do you want me to do, Jack?”
The plan of action I gave Ryan had an ulterior motive attached.” Call the ME. Stay there with him and watch your back. I mean it, Ryan. Back your ass up to a wall and wait for him. Be prepared for anything.”
There was silence on the other end but no joking response, just, “Yes sir, Laser.”
“I’ll swing by there as soon as I can.”
I looked down the hill toward the swamp. Conor’s big form blocked my view but he was staring at something. As I rounded the corner of the big house, I realized I was dragging my feet. It wouldn’t do for me to show weakness at this point, so I squared my shoulders and pretended I wasn’t about to drop. I woke up quickly though when I saw the huge hump of Vivie’s exposed back.
Chapter 17
Conor
I was told to get over myself, but I’m a bloody dragon.
There was a slow burning fire in my belly, the dragon anxious to take action, sensing an impending attack from the enemy’s hoard. So far what we hae confronted had been like a play or foreplay to a bigger confrontation. “Ach, it feels wrong…like we’re being played,” I said to no one.
Was it the Vouivre? My most trusted instincts told me she was a victim. If not for the timing of other events and our need for these waters to bring the Faethrough and for Dylan’s healing, she could stay here, and I could concentrate on hunting the evil that lurked, waiting until I was engaged elsewhere. So if not Vivie, who? What?
I reviewed the events of the last days. Who was aw
are of Le Vouivre, her predicament? As far as I knew, only trusted friends and Freddie.
“Fred, has anyone questioned you about Vivie, about our plans for her?”
Freddie, deep into his trance-like connection with the elemental, simply shook his head.
Montana’s boots squeaked on the sodden grass and I turned to take in the sight of her stridin’ down the slope in her black leather, short swords clinging to her thighs. Watchin’ her never ceased to set my blood racing and the heat whistling down into my Dragon’s soul. Never in the long centuries I’d lived had I met a woman so strong, so confident, so…Drakos, what had happened to me?
“My lady,” I bowed slightly then grabbed her and while the courtly gesture caught her off guard, I kissed her until the fire burned hot and steady betwixt us.
She kissed me on the cheek and rubbed my forehead, to see if it was as sensitive on my man form as my dragon’s. I closed my eyes and her voice came out low and sexy, “You say the sweetest things, my dragon.”
I love it when she calls me “her dragon”. Branislava is not given to easy endearments—this, because of her uncommon drive to protect women, mostly from abusive males. And whatever it was, had happened to my woman as well.
My. Woman. She trusted me. It gave me great satisfaction. I grinned.
Montana
The word ‘dragon’ is always associated with drama.
What was that big dragonly smile about, I wondered as Conor set me at arms length, mine not his. He was in knight form but that toothy grin came straight from his dragon’s mouth. Could he be mid-change—part knight, part dragon? “What are you thinking, you big handsome beast?”
His voice was somewhere between the two when he looked down into my eyes and said, “I will never tire of looking at yoo, Dinnshencha, or fighting along side yoo.”
My eyes widened at his use of my Paramortal identity, with so much respect and…emotion. Further consideration of what was going on between us was interrupted by the splash in the waters behind us.
The large leathery hide of the elemental broke the surface first, then the brilliant ruby colored carbuncle on the top half of her face. It was the first time I noticed the expression on her face beneath that carbuncle, like she was confused and pissed at the same time.
I grabbed Conor’s arm as we both kept an eye on Freddie. “Conor, the healer from Campbell Glen said the gem on her crown is how she absorbs and manifests the power of her elements. Mystiq said n—Freddie, no!” I planted one foot and pushed off toward him, but before I’d taken two steps Freddie’s hands flattened on the center of the glowing red stone.
One moment I was moving forward and the next I was flying through the air backwards. I landed in familiar strong arms. The elemental roared. Freddie’s hand stayed where it was while the scream turn into a low keening. Freddie made soothing sounds to the creature and the waters calmed around her.
When his face finally turned toward us there were tiny pinpoints of red glowing in the center of his pupils. He said, “No harm.” Vivie was swishing her tail like a pet wanting to be stroked.
“Goddess, is she trying to mate with him?”
“Myth…frère…save.” The words came from Freddie’s mouth but it was not his voice. It was a mesmerizing, melodic and definitely female voice.
Conor set me down. I asked, “Brother?”
Conor’s gaze stayed on Vivie, muscles tensed. He was ready to leap to Freddie’s defense should the elemental decide they were no longer friends. I personally didn’t think that was going to be a problem.
“Conor, I was trying to tell you that Mystiq said the Vouivre would be very sensitive about the stone, to stay away from it.” But as we watched, Freddie’s hand remained where it was on the beautiful faceted eye.
“Apparently, it is also the way she communicates.”
Jack appeared beside Conor. “What is going on?”
Freddie’s face locked on Jack’s. “Kin. Vivie rembours, mare, frère, home.” Her tone became more urgent, “Home.”
“She’s turned into Chatty-Kathy. What’s that about?” Jack asked.
“She is telling us what she desires through Freddie.” Conor said still studying the two.
“Can you interpret?” Jack’s eyes narrowed on the bright stone under Freddie’s hand and looked at Montana. “I thought Mystiq said—”
Conor cut him off. “I believe Le Vouivre considers us her brothers.”
Jack’s eyebrows lifted. “Like comrades in arms?” he asked.
Conor shrugged. His swords clinked and resettled, then that lovely dragon skin on his shoulders shivered. Jack studied our friend and his new paramour. “Any clue what miffer or mare means?”
“Freddie, can yoo bring me into the conversation with the lassie so I can find oot how to help?” Conor looked at me, then Jack. “I need to know how to physically get her oot of that swamp.”
Jack said, “I’m suddenly struck with an image of divers running steel wires in place like a basket so you can carry her across the Louisiana sky like a giant black stork, which brings up another issue. It’s daylight. How are you going to get her from the bayou to the Gulf Coast unseen?”
His eyebrows suddenly looked like wings and Montana said, “Dragon glamour, am I right, love?”
There was more communing, purring and humming and then Freddie reached out his left-hand to Conor. “Frère, lien.”
“Now what, Conor?” I asked.
“She’s offering to let me ‘bond’ with her.” Conor marched forward taking Freddie’s hand and splashing into the shallows of the swamp.
Jack looked like he wanted to plunge into the waters alongside Conor. I placed my hand firmly on his forearm, which flexed in response. “Jack.”
His muscles were like steel. His head turned toward me slowly as if he’d been locked onto the scene and wanted to connect with the swamp monster himself. He relaxed and we waited while a brief three-way meeting took place between Conor, the elemental and Freddie.
Conor nodded, turned and stomped out of the swamp toward us, his hard muscles shedding the water almost immediately. Freddie let go and the creature’s carbuncle blinked a soft blue as she backed up several yards to wait. When he looked at us, his pupils were the same, a calm blue.
“She says she wants to leave a cadeau, a gift. Don’t ask, that’s all I hae—she is nae exactly fluent in anything I speak, including Francais,” Conor said.
“But we’re set on go?” Jack asked. His phone rang. Looking at it, he said, “Damn. It’s Ryan again.”
Jack
That’s a big Roger!
This time Ryan’s voice had taken on an excited whisper. “Jack. Can you hear me?”
“I’m reading you, Ryan. Why are you whispering?”
“There’s a…” I heard a deep voice in the background say, “soldier”. Ryan cleared his throat and said, “There’s a soldier here who said you—no,” more conversation in the background, “he says Ridge sent him. When he saw my cruiser Ridge told him to stay here and um, back me up? He thought I was you.”
So Ridge’s men were arriving. Relief surged through me. “Is he…special in any way?”
Ryan’s laughter burst through the phone line. “That’s a giant roger.” His voice was high and excited. “He looks like… you ready for this? RoboCop. He said they even gave him the nickname, RC. I think he’ll be a pretty good backup.” Ryan’s understatement was intentional.
“You’re okay then, until I get there?”
“Yes sir.”
I hung up and watched Conor lift off to make a round then turned to Montana. “Montana, can I talk to you?”
Montana looked at my evidence kit. Whatcha going to do, take Vivie’s vital signs? I want to see that and don’t think I’m helping.”
I looked past her to the creature, who was making cuddly noises at Freddie. “They sound like a whale pod on National Geographic. We’ve decided she’s not dangerous to him though, right?”
She looked back at Fr
eddie and Vivie. “I think she’s in love.” Then, pointing to my kit Montana asked, “What’s up?”
Suddenly I was conflicted about what I was about to do. In the first place it would be illegal to have my ex’s blood analyzed, and it felt disloyal somehow to force my daughter to give blood against her will. Montana picked up on my hesitation. “Is it Tempe?”
She moved but I shook my head and held out the kit to stop her forward motion. “Tempe’s better and Aurora as well.” I sighed. “Montana, I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing but I need a favor. Actually, I’ll have confirmation of what I’m about to do, based on your reaction.”
She was on guard immediately, her expression giving nothing away until I explained.
“I’d like you to take a sample of Jordie’s blood. Jordie requested you do it instead of me.” The black brow took a giant hike. “But first, if you’d help me retrieve this.” I held my hand out where she could see the blood and skin that was wedged under my fingernails.” With my other hand I held up the evidence kit.
Chapter 18
Jack
…and another hero or two..
Montana didn’t twitch while she made her decision. Knowing what I did about her, I figured if she came out of her trance and lopped off my head, I deserved it. Her Dinnshencha nature didn’t make errors in judgment in these situations.
“The ex’s blood?” she asked.
I nodded. With quick competence she took the evidence pack from my hand, pulled supplies and did as I asked. Then she took the kit and marched toward the house calling over her shoulder, “I need you to stay where you are while I go talk to Jordie.”
That irritated me. I mean, I was Jordie’s frickin’ father. That was what was in my heart. But in my head, and as a lawman I respected her protective instincts. Montana was like a social worker on mega steroids. “Oh.” I yelled, so she’d hear me over her tromping feet, “Remember, she still doesn’t know about…you know.” Shaking her head, she kept walking.