Never Deal with Dragons

by Christensen, Lorenda

  She looked at me. “This woman saved my life.”

  I felt the eyes of a room full of dragons fall on me. I tried for a wave and a smile, but the movement caused the pain in my ribs to return full force. I leaned hard on the chair and wondered absently whether I had a shot at successfully planting my rear in its seat from this position.

  I was saved from the attempt by Trian, who appeared at my side and encouraged me to slump in his direction. I felt his warm breath near my ear as I leaned my face into the crook of his neck. “How badly are you hurt?” Despite my wooziness, I saw a flash of fear in his eyes before he gave me a serious once-over.

  My lipstick must have really smudged.

  “I’d feel a lot better if you guys had shown up a minute or two earlier. Your dinner parties suck.”

  Something suspiciously like a sigh of relief preceded the gentle rumble of his chest as he laughed. It was the last thing I remembered before the black spots in my vision took over.

  Chapter Four

  The rest of the evening was kind of a blur for me. And as I’d taken a good whack to my right eye, the blur was quite literal for a portion of the time. After his conversation with Fabob, Trian had hustled me into an empty room where a sofa was waiting. Ignoring my protests about my blood ruining the fabric, Trian picked me up and settled me gently along its length, fussing with the pillows until I was forced to wave him away before I threw up from all the movement.

  Only moments later, my sheepish boss came to apologize for trying to use me as a slingshot to safety. In a normal situation I would have accepted Emory’s apologies without question. I was used to making excuses for his behavior—he had a family to care for, he wasn’t totally lucid during the attack, or he hadn’t realized that his weight would knock me to the floor. But my back was scraped up, I probably had a concussion, and my brand new dress was ruined.

  The fact that Emory wasn’t nearly as bad off made his apologies even more irritating. He had a couple bruises, and a ruined dinner jacket, and a couple of buttons that had popped loose from his dress shirt, though I’m not sure whether those were from the attack or normal order of business for Emory. Needless to say, I really didn’t feel charitable. So I didn’t complain when Trian forcibly removed him from the room in an effort to give me a few minutes of peace.

  “How’s the head?” Trian rested a hip on the divan on which he’d draped me earlier, and adjusted my head so he could get a look at the lump on the back of my skull. I yelped as he poked at it with a finger. He continued with the exam until I hissed and swatted at his hands. Apparently satisfied that I wouldn’t die on his watch, he ignored my uncoordinated attempts to make him go away and patted my shoulder. I crawled to the opposite side of the couch and shot him a glare. Why did people feel the need to poke at other people’s injuries?

  Trian held out a small and bumpy package wrapped in a towel. I eyed it suspiciously until he pulled back the cloth.

  “Ice. Good. Gimme.” I took the bag and winced as my shaky hand bounced the ice against my skull before I got it settled on the injury. Trian said the skin hadn’t been broken, but the lump back there was the size of my fist.

  “Think you’ll survive?”

  I nodded, then regretted it instantly as the movement caused the throbbing to return full force. I groaned, then answered his question. “The head feels intact, but it hurts bad enough I’m wishing it wasn’t still attached.” I cautiously propped myself into a sitting position, pleased that—for this time at least—I’d managed to avoid the knifing pain in my side that suggested a cracked rib or two.

  “So. Who was Ol’ Blue?”

  At his blank look, I rephrased. “You know, my grouchy reptilian friend?”

  “Ah, the attacker. From what we’ve been able to piece together from Fabob and the rest of the kitchen staff, we think ‘Ol’ Blue,’” Trian grinned and my treacherous heart fluttered, “was a low-level subject of the Chinese dragon lord Lin Hian-puo, one of the more disappointing examples of the dragon race. Best guess is that Ol’ Blue sneaked in as a ride-along with one of the produce deliveries this morning. That note you saw? It was informing me we had a guard missing at the gate. We had just tracked the intruder back into the house when I heard you shout.”

  Which explained why we’d gone three rounds with a crazed dragon before the cavalry arrived.

  “So what was the plan here? What did he have against us?”

  “Right now, we’re not entirely sure. The dragon guard in charge of check-in and—out had been chained, stuffed into the truck, and driven about four hours and two hundred miles away. By the time the guard managed to get free and fly back, Ol’ Blue had already grabbed Fabob, knocked her human colleague unconscious, and poisoned the food. I came as soon as we found Lucy on the floor. None of them remember him speaking except to order Fabob through the door.”

  “And I guess he’s not talking now either.” I shot Trian a genuine smile. The dragon’s headless status was directly correlated to my own living, breathing status. “Thanks for that.”

  I should probably feel bad about someone being killed right in front of me. Maybe it was the shock, but I considered his death a matter of self-defense, no matter that I hadn’t been the one to land the killing blow. If I’d been able to, I don’t think I would have hesitated to do exactly as Trian had done.

  Trian smiled and wiped at a bit of chocolate I’d managed to smear on my cheek. “You did well in there. I’m sorry we didn’t get to the dining hall sooner.”

  “Hey. You got there before anyone died, so I’d call that a win.” I eyed him as I waited for the compress to dull the pain. I could still tell when something was bothering him. Wondering why he wasn’t telling me the whole story, I tried to keep the conversation rolling.

  “So, you’re Lord Relobu’s muscle?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Did you get the job before or after you were employed as his thief?” Maybe it was the headache, but I didn’t see the point in pretending I’d forgotten why he’d left me a year ago.

  It takes a lot to bring it out, but Trian has a generous portion of temper. I saw it flare for a moment in his eyes at the word “thief” before he controlled it. A small snarky part of me relished the idea that I could poke his pride. He deserved it.

  Trian’s lips thinned. “I work for Lord Relobu as his security chief. I am not a thief.”

  “Could have fooled me,” I muttered. He might have just saved me from a fatal case of indigestion, but I was sore all over and pain didn’t necessarily bring out the best side of my personality. Maybe I had a bit of a temper as well. And being here, seeing him, it brought back a lot of old frustrations. And Trian hiding things from me was at the top of my list.

  The words were said under my breath, but Trian heard me. “Myrna, that was a long time ago. How long do you plan on holding it against me? I tried to explain—”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “Did you—”

  I held up a hand. “I didn’t want to hear it then, and I don’t want to hear it now. You jumped in my bed just long enough to make me care about you, and then disappeared with my property. I almost lost my job over that. Instead, DRACIM assigned me to Emory-duty, and now there are days I wished they had fired me. As far as I’m concerned, that’s the only thing that matters. You betrayed my trust and damn you if you think I’d be stupid enough to give you another chance to ruin me.”

  The muscles of his jaw clenched before Trian shoved off the couch and stalked to the wide window on the other side of the room. While he stared at Relobu’s pristine lawn, I studied the wallpaper—a very elegant interpretation of frolicking pigs. Minutes later, he sighed, and I let loose the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. He’d decided to talk.

  “Myrna, we need your help.”

  “Is this a request for DRACIM, or for me?” Because he was dumber than I thought if he assumed I would jump at the offer to help him.

  His flashing eyes told me he under
stood exactly what I meant by that question. “For DRACIM.” His words were clipped and angry.

  I felt a zing of malicious satisfaction, glad to see I wasn’t the only one having trouble containing my less-than-polite thoughts.

  “In that case, we’d love to help. What can I do?” I folded my arms primly in my lap and gave him a bland, professional smile.

  “Myrna, for God’s sake, are you going to act like this the entire time—”

  Trian’s tirade was interrupted as the huge wooden door swung wide, and Richard stepped into the opening. “I believe I can help answer that question.

  “First of all, it was not my intention to place you or Emory in the path of danger. You have my sincerest apologies.” Richard smiled sheepishly. “From now on, if the phone rings, I’ll ignore it.”

  I waved away his regret. “Don’t worry about it. The attack wasn’t your fault—the assailant said himself he was subject to a different master, Lord…” I looked to Trian.

  “Hian-puo.”

  I nodded my thanks to Trian for supplying the Chinese dragon lord’s name, then focused back on Richard’s face. “Hian-puo. He wasn’t one of Relobu’s dragons. I’ll do my best to spread this information to anyone who asks. Or not speak of it at all, if that’s your wish.” I could already imagine the bevy of reporters knocking down my door come tomorrow morning at the office. There was nothing the human news cycle liked more than a dragon attack.

  Lord Relobu was probably looking for assurances that this incident could be contained before it reached the press. Or the dragon council. The group of dragons who ruled their race weren’t exactly known for their leniency. I doubted Lord Relobu’s position on the council would truly stop any punishment they decided to roll out should his subjects be at fault. And that’s assuming he’d even want to stop the council.

  Considering the circumstances—and the fact that I had no desire to pose for pictures with the black eye I’d probably develop by tomorrow—I had no problems allowing Richard or Lord Relobu to handle the issue internally.

  But his next words surprised me.

  “You’re correct in assuming I would rather avoid making this public, Miss Banks. What you are not yet aware of is the actions on our part that may have led to this attack.”

  I felt Trian’s hand close around mine. Warm and firm and bracing. This was going to be bad.

  So this was a retaliatory attack?

  “Earlier this month I sent a team, three dragons and two dragonspeakers, to Beijing for a business meeting. Shui-Tech, a computing firm in Northern China, has been in the process of creating a computer with a liquid hard drive, its biomaterial being resistant to electromagnetic pulses and some types of radiation. We had an interest in acquiring a shipment of the desktops as soon as they were available.”

  I nodded. Most of the world’s computer systems had been destroyed during World War III due to EMPs, and for the vast majority of the population, electronic equipment was either unavailable or far out of their price range, especially those outside of the major cities. And even the major cities had trouble keeping their grids online. Only the incredibly rich could guarantee uninterrupted electricity through the use of generators. But a steady source of power didn’t solve the corrosion of electrical wiring caused by electromagnetic pulses. A computer that could operate under these conditions, especially if the machine used no circuit boards at all, would be beyond useful should humans decide to restart the war.

  “I can appreciate the reason for your interest.”

  Richard tilted his head in acknowledgement. “The dragons flew to Beijing and were joined by the humans last Friday. That was the last we have heard from them. Telephone communications ceased just outside Shui-Tech’s office.”

  “And you’re sure it wasn’t the phones?” Whoever had decided slinging nuclear missiles back and forth across the oceans and into space really hadn’t thought through the part about permanent world destruction. Global communications had taken a real hit, and telephone communication was sometimes spotty.

  Trian released my hand and moved to stand beside Richard. He answered my question. “We’re sure. Shui-Tech confirmed that our team never arrived for the meeting.”

  Richard cleared his throat. “According to our investigative contacts…” he paused to glance at Trian, “…we believe our team was captured by Hian-puo and is currently being held somewhere on his estate.”

  “Lord Relobu confronted Hian-puo at the last Council,” referring to the monthly meeting between the world’s dragon leaders, “and Hian-puo confirmed they were arrested for, in his words, ‘acting against my undisputed sovereignty on Chinese soil.’ Efforts on Relobu’s part to determine the exact charges behind the arrest failed, and we were warned by Hian-puo that any attempt to free our team from their ‘lawful detainment’ would be viewed as an act of war.”

  I sighed. Based on what I’d learned in school, Hian-puo was one of those rare dragons who, despite being a total ass and cruel leader, managed to garner just enough support to stay in power despite the majority of his “subjects” suffering badly under his rule.

  It didn’t take a genius to figure out why Relobu needed DRACIM.

  “Can I assume you’re asking DRACIM to negotiate the release of your team?”

  Richard nodded. “Among other things. Lately Hian-puo’s actions have grown…shall we say, erratic. Relobu Holdings has many business interests in his territory, and we would be pleased if we were able to come to a long-term agreement on our respective rights in those situations. And if we could make these terms broad enough to cover all international agreements, even better.”

  My heart beat just a little faster. Lord Relobu was asking DRACIM to be involved in creating an international trade organization for dragons. He was allowing humans to help shape dragon law. I struggled to keep my excitement behind a professional expression.

  “I can get back to you with a name by tomorrow morning”

  “No way. You’re going straight to the hospital. I don’t like the look of the bump on your head.”

  Trian’s no-nonsense tone raised my hackles. True, I felt like I’d been run over by a bus, but it irritated me that Trian acted like he had the right to dictate my movements. “Thank you for your oh-so-useful medical advice, Dr. Chobardan, but I’m not so injured I can’t make my own decisions.” I turned to Richard. “What’s your time line?”

  Richard cleared his throat nervously but was smart enough not to look in Trian’s direction. “I ask that this search happen as quickly as possible. Concern for our imprisoned team grows with each day they remain in Hian-puo’s grasp. He’s not exactly known for his kindness. But obviously, if you need to seek medical care…”

  “I’m fine.” Actually, my ribs were telling me I wasn’t, but I would die before I admitted that now.

  “Myrna, don’t be stupid. You can barely move. Let me take you to the hospital.”

  I nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

  “It was lovely seeing you, Miss Banks.”

  And with those words, Richard left the room. With one last unreadable look in my direction, Trian stood and followed him out.

  *

  I stayed on the divan for another hour, and had just managed to talk myself into attempting to stand when Trian came in the room, trailed by a stunning woman with long blond hair. She said something—I didn’t hear what—and he laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners at the words.

  And then he turned to me, and his laughter abruptly stopped.

  I told myself I didn’t care—he was welcome to laugh with anyone he pleased—but it didn’t stop the pang of jealousy I felt as I was forced to watch.

  I took a deep breath—wincing at the pain in my ribs—and heaved myself into a standing position. The movement felt as if shards of glass had been shoved completely through my body in at least ten different places, and I thought I might pass out. But my vision cleared after a moment, and I realized the hands on my hip and lower back belonged to Trian, who�
�d crossed the room to help me stay upright.

  “Yes, well, I guess I should be going now.” Uncomfortable with how pathetic I must look compared to the composed and beautiful stranger, I wanted nothing more than to get out of this house so I could tend to my wounds in private. I tried to take a step forward, toward the door, but Trian kept a firm hold on my waist.

  “Myrna, I’d like you to meet Dr. Randal. She’s been instructed to look over your injuries.” Trian’s words were matter-of-fact, but his eyes dared me to refuse the doctor’s help.

  Had I not felt the small beads of sweat forming on my forehead and upper lip from the simple strain of standing, I would have told Trian and the doctor where they could shove their assistance. But I was betting Dr. Randal had at least some form of painkiller in the small bag she carried, and the last thing I wanted to do was irritate a dragon lord by refusing his help.

  I nodded and with Trian’s help, Dr. Randal had me seated on the divan while she peered at the knot on my head. She muttered something about stitches, and a couple of seconds later I felt the light sting of a needle as she numbed my scalp and prepared to sew me up.

  While she worked, I thought about what Lord Relobu’s plans could mean for the human race.

  Since dragons had been discovered, and the world’s human military teams had realized their weapons were useless, dragons had essentially been the new kings of the jungle. Here, in North America, we’d been very lucky. Lord Relobu, for the most part, preferred working with humans instead of wiping us from the face of the earth. Richard Green was an excellent example of the dragon lord’s philosophy. Richard organized Relobu’s staff, and Relobu’s life was more comfortable because of it.

  But not all of the dragon lords had Relobu’s outlook on life. It wasn’t that dragons were out to get us; it’s just that we were all vying for the same space. Humans weren’t so protected in other parts of the world, and DRACIM had been looking for a way to change that. In my opinion, this was our chance.

  Crops were scarce, and with the northern populations moving south in search of a more survivable climate, grasslands were disappearing at an alarming rate, driving the price of meat and dairy products to never-before-experienced highs. Dragons, being at least part reptile, always chose the warm sunny regions, which packed us all together much closer than we would usually prefer. Scientists had improved farming techniques to make use of the available land, but it was going to be a slow road back to where we were 150 years ago.