by Willa Okati
He looked so proud and unashamedly nude with his hair curling over his face that Gina couldn’t help grinning. “You’re pretty confident, aren’t you?”
Dakarai lifted his chin. “I have centuries of knowledge to draw on. As do you.” He wiped off his fingers on a tissue from a box balanced precariously on the edge of the desk. “Randall is new, but he’s learning. I couldn’t ask for a better student. When we first met...”
“Love at first sight?” Gina guessed, her lips curving. “You saw Randall and your magic heart went pit-a-pat?”
Dakarai looked amused. “Close enough. We were in a club; each one of us had come up to the bar.”
“Dak turned around, saw me, and spilled his beer all over my shirt.” Randall chuckled. “You’ve never seen anyone so flabbergasted. I thought he was just upset over the mess he made, but--”
“I was tripping over my tongue. Me, the master at words and the power they carry. But when I faced down a man who was the embodiment of every fantasy I’d ever had--”
“After he’d been stuttering for a minute, I was starting to worry about him. I wasn’t pissed about the shirt, but he blurted out a promise to pay for my dry cleaning. I told him it wasn’t necessary, yet he insisted.”
“I had to find some excuse to see him again.”
“And he did.” Randall lifted his head to gaze at Dakarai. Gina followed his look. She envied it a little. Pure love and admiration. “We got to know each other, bit by bit, and it all unfolded from there.”
“It also didn’t hurt that I was stubborn as a mule when it came to finding a way to win his heart.”
“It wasn’t hard.” Randall laughed. “Then, suddenly, I was hard for the guy, and man, did I have a time coping there.”
“But I helped.” Dakarai’s expression had gone tender. “You let me guide you, never pushing, and you came to me all on your own. I couldn’t have been happier.”
“Me, either.” Randall leaned across Gina to press a kiss against Dakarai’s lips. Although they weren’t touching in any other fashion, the way their mouths clung together spoke of deep affection with a hint of passion, something Gina suspected was always lingering beneath the surface with these two.
It didn’t make her jealous, as she would have thought. Instead, she smiled. Randall had always deserved the best. When she hadn’t been able to be there for him, five-odd years ago, someone else had come along to give him what he needed. She hoped he hadn’t had to wait long for Dakarai to enter his life.
She owed Dakarai for taking care of the big, gentle man. Impulsively, Gina petted Dakarai’s chest, stroking across the solid muscles. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Dakarai seemed to understand. As he and Randall parted, he brushed Gina’s hand. “Believe me when I say it was my pleasure.”
Gina sighed and stretched. “But you were talking about magic?”
“Magic, yeah. I saw what Dak could do, but then I’d already learned from you the impossible could be real, so I believed him even before he proved he’s a mage -- believed in him. Dak taught me everything I know.” Randall rubbed Gina’s feet. He tickled the arch to make her giggle and kick. “I know a little magic, sure, but that’s not my destiny. I’m your bodyman. One George, one mage, one bodyman. That’s the way it was set up to work.”
“You’re the link between Dakarai and myself,” Gina realized. “You’re tied to me, and he’s tied to you. After a lifetime of not interfering, you were the way to build a bridge. That’s not a small thing.”
Dakarai tilted his head. “You’re right,” he said, appearing surprised. “Part of Randall’s duty as bodyman is to serve as a connection for both of us where muscles and magic can cross to meet. He links us together where we might not be able to otherwise.”
“So the mighty magician has a weakness,” Gina teased. Then, she grew serious. “Does that mean Randall has to be a part of all this? The fight, the magic?”
“I can take care of myself,” Randall protested. “And yeah, it’s on me, too. Don’t think I’m not eager to get a little payback.”
The thought disturbed Gina. Hadn’t Randall already been through enough? I’ll think about it later. She couldn’t face these kinds of decisions at the moment.
Instead, she prodded at one of the patches of drying muck on her throat and turned the conversation. “We spent so many years apart that everything was beginning to fade. God, was it a shock to see you so vividly, even if I did conjure you up in my first vision.” She hesitated and frowned. “I thought it was all my imagination, though.”
“Imagination is more powerful than you might think.” Dakarai scooted down to kneel by Gina’s other side -- closer, she noted, to Randall. Staking his claim, was he? Gina decided she’d keep a careful eye on them. Any kind of division in the ranks could be deadly.
“The mind opens any number of doors when we let go and dream,” Dakarai went on. “If you have the slightest bit of talent -- and Randall has much more strength than he claims -- one can slip through the thin walls of reality to fantasy.” He twinkled unexpectedly. “How do you think inventions come to pass? Imagination transmutes into reality. A tea kettle became the inspiration for a steam engine. And so it goes.” He brushed Gina’s bare shoulder. “Your skin’s getting cooler. It’s a good sign.”
“I don’t even feel the dragon flame anymore,” Gina agreed. “All his deadly fire and passion, it’s gone.”
“Is it?” Dakarai’s touch deepened. “You feel nothing for us, then?”
Gina glanced from one man to the other. Each was something out of a fantasy, from their chiseled bodies to their strong-boned faces and expressive eyes. “No,” she said slowly, laying a hand on both. “It’s not like the dragon flame... but I still feel this ache for you two.”
“You don’t hold it against me, what I did to help heal you, either last night or today?” Dakarai looked a little self-conscious, an odd expression on him. “If I were a woman, I’d be furious at a stranger’s invading me the way I did.”
She rolled the thought over in her mind. What he had done wasn’t rape. The dragon had been the one at fault, driving her out of her senses with arousal that would have reduced her to a whimpering puddle. “No,” Gina said after due consideration. “You did what you had to do.”
“Yes, but I enjoyed it,” Dakarai confessed. His voice dropped to a whisper, teasing her with the warming tenor of his speech. “And I would give anything to be between those sweet thighs again, feasting between your folds and tasting your sweet juices.”
Randall stiffened. Dakarai noticed. “Are you jealous, love?”
“No. Yes. No. I want you and I want her.” Randall rubbed the palm of his hand against one eye. “Dakarai... “
“It’s okay; I understand. As much as I hunger to have my lips wrapped around your cock, Randall, I crave Gina with equal fervor.” Dakarai sighed. “It’s confusing.”
Gina frowned. “You’re not completely gay?”
“It’s the lifestyle I prefer,” Dakarai admitted. “But ever so rarely, there’s been a woman...” He kneaded her shoulder. “A lady who lights a spark inside me. When I touched you, it wasn’t just the dragon flame I felt. I wanted you as I’ve rarely desired anyone else.”
Gina could feel tension building. She touched both men, trying to defuse an argument that was unfolding its claws. “We have time to talk about this three-way we’ve gotten ourselves into later. What we don’t have is the leisure to wait for the dragon to attack again. We’ve got to be prepared. God knows what he’ll do next.” She scratched at the glop on her neck, finding it had dried into a crust. “Am I done baking yet?”
Dakarai shook his head, as if shedding the former conversation and its weighty implications, then moved up to check the state of his magical cure. He sighed in relief. “The paste’s done its job.” He rubbed at a spot, peeling away the brittle material. Hovering over the position of that particular wound, he paused and then inclined his head in satisfaction. “No trace of poison or inf
ection. In fact, the skin has knitted back together.”
“No kidding? Let me feel.” Gina touched the bite mark, and found only the rough skin of a scar where a gash had been. “Pretty swift move there, mage.”
He glittered at her. “I do my best. Now, to finish the job...”
Bang!
All three flinched at the sound that was just like a cannon shot.
“What the hell?” Randall asked, looking up and smelling the air. “Sulfur.”
Dakarai swore and left Gina to remove the rest of her paste, running around the bookshelves and toward the front of the store. Gina scrubbed at her neck and gave Randall a push. “Go,” she insisted. “I’m right behind you.”
As soon as he had disappeared, Gina gave her neck one last harsh rub and then scrambled to her feet. She followed the men, her breasts bouncing painfully as she sprinted, reminding her -- damn -- she still wasn’t dressed.
Bang!
The second boom rang out as Gina skidded to a stop in front of the window. “What’s going on?”
Dakarai looked grim. “The dragon. It’s gotten through my shields on this neighborhood. Damn him!”
Bang! A chunk of flaming debris clattered down the steps to the magic shop and lay there, burning brightly, consuming itself with what Gina would have sworn was pure malice.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
“He’s hitting the street. The buildings. Oh, God, what if there are people out there?” Gina made a dive for the door, halted when Dakarai caught her around the waist. “Let me go!”
“No.” He tightened his grip. “This is my job.”
“The hell you say. I swore to the dragon I’d protect this city.” Gina struggled against him, but his arms were like bands of iron. “I have to get out there!”
Dakarai held her tight. “Part of the battle is depending on your mage. This is a magical attack. Let me be, allow me to concentrate on casting a shield, and I can deflect the damage.”
“Randall,” Gina begged. “Make him release me.”
Randall hesitated, then moved his head in a gesture of refusal. “It’s up to Dakarai on this one,” he said firmly, although he moved behind Dakarai to wrap his arms around his lover and hold Gina as well -- but reassuringly she knew, not to pin her down. “Trust in him.”
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
Gina listened to the sounds of fireballs exploding. Cries of panic were beginning to reach them, the city folk seeing huge fireballs coming from nowhere and scrambling to get out of the way. “Why doesn’t he attack us directly?”
“It’s a trap,” Dakarai said, sounding strained. “He wants you to go out and be crushed. Be patient. Fight when you can.”
“I will,” Gina swore, watching the fireball burn. “He thinks he can scare me back into hiding. I won’t go. This dragon dies.” Her hand clenched as if around a spear. “Soon.”
Chapter Eight
“So you were down here in the shop when the bombing started?” The police sergeant, ginger-haired and slightly on the plump side, had a bushy mustache he chewed on when he was thinking. He cast a glance around the shop, sharp blue eyes taking in the rows of jars and the ancient leather books. “Looks like you’ve got a lot of... stuff down here.”
“It’s all just herbs.” Gina resisted the urge to twine a finger in one loose strand of hair that had slipped down when she’d knotted her freshly washed hair into a French twist.
She hadn’t wanted to take the time to clean up, but Dakarai had insisted. “There’ll be police,” he said, nailing her eye to eye. “Men with questions. Look at the state of us now, covered in sexual excess and fluids, our hair whipped about as if we’ve been through a hurricane. We’re not fit for visitors. They’re hunting for facts, but our mission is best kept a secret.”
“What we do is our own business,” Randall had added in support. “He’s got the right idea, Gina. We need to look like we’re just casual bystanders, nothing suspicious.” He’d been the one to gently push her in the direction of the shop’s employee-only bathroom. “Please do this. For me?”
Gina had obeyed. The bathroom boasted a small shower, much cleaner than the one in her apartment -- God, her dive of a home seemed a million miles away -- and there were fresh towels hanging on the rack. It’d felt beyond good to wash the sweat from her hair and the drying fluids from her body.
All she’d had available to change into was what she’d worn, the scarlet crop top and her jeans, but they were better than going around naked. Dakarai had rummaged around and come up with a sweatshirt and pants, but they were his size and would have swallowed Gina whole. Not exactly inconspicuous.
So she’d made herself as presentable as possible. The wet hair was a problem, but hopefully, with it knotted back, it wouldn’t raise too many questions.
As she replied to the officer, Gina tried to project innocence and the sense of confusion she knew the men and women on the street must have been feeling. “You can’t do anything with this stuff but help a cold or the flu.”
“Mmm hmm.” The sergeant jotted something down in the crumpled notebook he carried. “The guy who owns this place, he’s what? An herbalist or something?”
“Holistic medicine is part of what he does,” Gina answered. Dakarai had coached her to stick as close to the truth as possible. No talk about magic, dream visions, and least of all, dragons. “He dabbles in magic, too.”
“Huh. Like those rings that loop together, rabbits out of hats, that kind of thing?”
“Not exactly.” Gina searched for the right words. “More like crystals for meditation. Aromatherapy candles. You know, New Age stuff.” She gestured around herself. “It’s all pretty harmless.”
“Yeah, and if I had a dollar for every time I heard the word ‘harmless,’ I’d be a damn rich man.” The sergeant sucked at his mustache. “Doesn’t look like he has much in the way of business.”
Gina hid a wince. There was no denying most of Dakarai’s bric-a-brac was faded and dusty. The man had the mojo at his fingertips to heal a dragon bite, and he couldn’t have done a little cleanup spell? Turned this place into a bright and shiny shop with attractive displays? “I don’t think he’s the kind of guy who worries about how much money he makes,” she cobbled together an explanation. “He does this because he loves studying magic. That’s all.”
One of the sergeant’s eyebrows went up. “Yeah. He really loves the game. This place is just about to fall down. And what are all those books about?”
“Personal research collection,” Dakarai said smoothly, coming up behind Gina with barely a sound. He’d changed into a business casual green sweater, which brought out his eyes, and a pair of respectably new jeans, with white sneakers padding his feet. “I research the history of magic. Knowledge is what most of my customers come for. I also run a website serving as a resource for students and teachers.”
The sergeant grunted. “Mind giving me its URL?”
Dakarai rattled off the address, which hadn’t been on his ad in the phone book, without pause. Gina carefully kept herself from showing any surprise. For all she knew, he did run a site for people who wanted to learn more. She committed the information to memory, determined to look it up later when she got a chance. If she got a chance.
“You’re free to bring in experts or even dogs to examine the contents of my shop,” Dakarai suggested, as if it were no big deal at all. “I’m afraid I’m just a boring Joe with an eye for the supernatural in our history.”
“Yeah, you’re a real Fox Mulder. How do you spell your name again?”
“D - a - k - a - r - a - i,” he said, calm unruffled. “I’m in the Yellow Pages.”
“And who’s this guy?” The sergeant pointed his ballpoint pen over Gina’s shoulder. “You’re just an innocent customer, and he owns the joint, but neither one of you said a word about him.”
Gina turned to look and saw Randall, the last of them to go in the shower, emerging in a brown sweatshirt, loose slacks, and bare feet. He grimaced.
“I was, um... I’m here because of...”
“They’re lovers,” Gina supplied. “His name is Randall.”
“And you know this because...”
“We were talking. Before the explosions.” Gina couldn’t help her face turning a little pink. “You know. Just conversation.”
The sergeant eyed each of them. Gina could see him taking in their freshly washed state and reading between the lines. “Talking. Is that what they call it these days?”
Gina did reach for her strand of hair and tugged at the tip. “It’s not what it looks like...” Her voice trailed off.
“Gina, no. Let’s not be coy. It’s exactly what it looks like, officer.” Dakarai beckoned for Randall to come closer, then put an arm around each of their waists. “You understand why we didn’t want to come out and say so.” His voice was smooth and disarming, touched with the slightest dash of chagrin. “We were, as you might say, otherwise occupied when the explosions started.”
“I’ll bet you were.” The sergeant made another note. “So you heard the noise and you, what, got up and ran to the window to see what all the fuss was about?”
Gina regained her mental footing, even though her cheeks were probably bright red by then. “After, um, extricating ourselves. Yeah.”
The sergeant snorted. “And what did you see?”
Dakarai tugged Gina and Randall closer. “Not much. It’s fairly secluded down here, and even from the shop window we don’t have a good view of the street. But we knew better than to go outside. Especially when one blast landed on our very doorstep.” He frowned in an expression of concern. “Do you know what it is?”
Ginger mustache hairs flickered as the sergeant blew out a breath. “Classified.”
“We can’t even know what someone threw at us?” Gina protested. She felt like she was pushing her limits, but she wanted to know what the cops knew. If the authorities didn’t have a clue, then she and her men would be that much safer.