The Dragon Conspiracy

by Lisa Shearin

  I shook my head in wonder. “Viktor Kain comes here, your enemy, a known murderer, with the intent of murdering and destroying even more people, and you feel sorry for him.”

  Vivienne Sagadraco looked across the street at the damage she and Viktor Kain had done. “I can feel sympathy for his loss and his pain without affecting who I am and my opposition to all that Viktor Kain is and stands for. When we lose our empathy for others and allow our enmity to spiral downward and twist into mindless hate, we are no better than the Viktor Kains of the world. Compassion is our strength, not our weakness.” She paused. “And it is a treasure that is meant to be shared. Do you understand?”

  I nodded slowly and let myself smile, truly smile, for the first time in two days. “I understand perfectly . . . Miss Vivienne.”

  Vivienne Sagadraco continued to look ahead, but now she smiled very slightly.

  We watched as Helena Thanos and Alain Moreau emerged from the pavilion and walked slowly down the steps. Ian, wearing his protective glasses, met them at the bottom. He spoke briefly with Helena, reached down, took her hand, and kissed it, no doubt thanking her for coming to help, and especially for reversing Yasha’s paralysis. Just as an older gorgon’s stare could turn a younger one to stone, they could also reverse the paralysis inflicted by a younger gorgon. Helena leaned in and kissed Ian on the cheek.

  However, du Beckett’s touch on Eddie Laughlin had taken the paralysis too far. The petrification had entered his bloodstream and begun spreading from there to his organs. Helena said it was turning him to stone from the outside in, his internal organs slowly solidifying, and would eventually end with his brain and heart. And, as it happened, Eddie would continue to be aware, but paralyzed the entire time and helpless to do anything to stop it.

  Helena had mercifully looked into his eyes, and done what needed to be done.

  Helena Thanos and Alain Moreau, arm in arm, continued to the island’s dock where a Coast Guard patrol boat, with a crew of clued-in humans and supernaturals, would be arriving shortly to take us back to the city. There wasn’t anything that Kenji couldn’t arrange.

  Moreau had come over to check on me when Ian had first carried me out of the building since I hadn’t been able to walk two steps without falling down. I’d been used to seeing my vampire manager in a suit. Tonight he was wearing what looked like biker leathers in midnight blue. He absolutely rocked that look, and it seemed that Helena Thanos agreed.

  Vivienne Sagadraco had made use of the invisibility amulet she had used on New Year’s Eve to defend Times Square against her sister Tiamat and her grendels. Tonight it had enabled her to fly herself, Moreau, Helena, and Caera to North Brother Island, sight unseen by the swarms of law enforcement boats patrolling the East River. Moreau had used a harness that the boss had had made long ago to enable her to carry her second in command. Helena and Caera had the stomach-dropping experience of being strapped into, essentially, a modified helicopter cockpit with a carrying bar. Ms. Sagadraco picked it up in her claws, and away they went.

  “So older vampires are immune to older gorgons,” I noted with a smile. “Nice.”

  “It was indeed a pleasant surprise. Both are equally rare, so it’s not surprising that there is no record of immunity.” She tilted her head back, gazing at the stars. “Many happy accidents have resulted from this evening’s events.”

  I nodded in agreement. “The potential for vampire and gorgon romance. I’ll bet he’ll even be able to talk her out of the house.”

  “That is highly likely.”

  “Why did she agree to come? Especially traveling here the way she had to. If du Beckett had succeeded, she’d have been at ground zero.”

  “She believed that had she remained at home, she would have died a coward. By coming here, even if she became dust, she would have tried to stop Bastian, and her death would have served a purpose. If you can choose your death, it is always better if you die so that others have a chance to live.”

  “What about Caera?”

  “When Agent Filarion asked to accompany us here, my first instinct was to refuse her. It wasn’t safe. However, she is fond of Mr. Sadler, and was quite insistent. On a night like tonight when so many things might have ended, other things should be given a chance to begin.”

  The boss stood and walked over to where Ben and Caera were sitting against the base of a tree. Ben had seen her coming over and had attempted to stand. I smiled. My grandma Fraser always said that one of the true tests to tell if a man’s been raised right and is a gentleman is whether he stands when a lady enters the room—or tonight, in Ben’s case, when a woman walks under a tree. I wondered if our Mr. Sadler was a Southern boy. I hadn’t heard an accent, but you never knew.

  Ms. Sagadraco gestured for Ben to stay put, not that he was having more luck keeping his feet than I was. She knelt down next to them, and started to talk. I had a feeling Ben might eventually be getting a job offer that was better suited to his skill set than being a diamond appraiser at Christie’s. Though I could see where the boss might find it valuable to have an agent on the inside in one of the world’s top art auction houses. Sometimes art was more than it appeared, and in the wrong hands could cause a world of hurt. Yep, an agent on the inside would be good.

  I took my third and last Dramamine out of my pocket. If the second one hadn’t kept me from staggering like a drunken sailor, a third one—

  Ian sat next to me on the bench. “Take that only if you want to pass out.”

  I snorted. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. I haven’t slept in two days.” The fire hydrant standing perfectly preserved on the curb started tilting slowly to the right. “Oh boy.” I put my hands down on the bench on either side of me, bracing for the next wave of the dizzies. It was getting better. The first time I’d fallen right off the bench and into the kudzu.

  “Is it happening again?” Ian asked.

  “Oh yeah.”

  His arm went around my shoulders, pulling me against him. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

  It didn’t stop the dizziness, but it did wonders for everything else.

  “That was entirely too close,” I said quietly.

  “Falling off the bench?”

  “No. Tonight.”

  Ian sighed and gave my shoulder a squeeze.

  I settled tiredly against him and looked back over at the pavilion.

  Five of the world’s most valuable diamonds were somewhere in or below that crumbling pile of bricks. If most New Yorkers knew that, the police, feds, Coast Guard, and the Hell Gate wouldn’t keep them from swarming the place in the ultimate Easter egg hunt.

  Vivienne Sagadraco had said she was perfectly fine with leaving them right where they were.

  The goblin crossing the street to our little bench would probably be paying the island another visit, just for the challenge and the fun of it, if nothing else. If anyone could coax diamonds out of rubble, it’d be Rake Danescu.

  Ian extended his right hand. “I’d stand, but I think I’m all that’s holding her up.”

  Rake took my partner’s hand and shook it. In his other hand was the Queen of Dreams.

  I couldn’t wait for some sleep and dreams of my own.

  The diamond still had a residual glow from Ben’s touch. The goblin met my eyes and winked. “I told you pink was evil.”

  “Hey, I never said I doubted you—on that.”

  I hadn’t doubted that pink was evil, but I had doubted Rake Danescu—though not nearly as much as Ian. He’d had reason to; he knew the goblin better.

  “We couldn’t have done it without you,” Ian told Rake. “Thank you.”

  To Ian’s credit, he didn’t choke on any of those words. Though he did pause a wee bit before the last two.

  The goblin inclined his head in acknowledgment. “From what I understand, Makenna’s eavesdropping on Viktor Kain sealed the deal.�
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  We’d probably never know if Rake had agreed to help because he knew that if those diamonds weren’t stopped, not only would he lose his human disguise, but everything he’d built here for himself.

  Or had Rake had an actual moment of caring for someone else besides himself?

  Or was it another reason entirely?

  I didn’t know, and Rake would never say. Not to mention, I was too tired to waste my breath asking. He’d just answer my question with another question until I forgot what I’d asked in the first place. I ran my hand over my face. Oh yeah, I was definitely too tired for that.

  Not that Rake would mind taking credit for saving every supernatural in the tristate area—it’d just be more fun to keep us all guessing as to why he’d done it.

  If the goblin was going to keep popping into my life, I’d have to learn to pick my battles or he’d drive me crazy. This time it meant being satisfied with knowing what he did, but not knowing why he did it. He was a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma, and that wasn’t likely to change anytime soon. I’d be better off just accepting that and preserving my sanity.

  We looked across to where Yasha had changed more or less back into human form, and was getting Ben Sadler on his feet. Ben was tall, Yasha was much taller, but they made it work. It was a big change from just this morning when the Russian had growled when Ben had gotten into his SUV.

  As Vivienne Sagadraco came back over to us, Yasha and Caera started helping Ben to the dock; one on either side of him. The big Russian was doing all of the helping; Caera with her arm around Ben’s waist was doing the holding. While I was sure Ben appreciated Yasha’s efforts, all of his attention was on Caera.

  Rake was formally thanking Ms. Sagadraco for keeping Viktor Kain occupied—thus preventing the Russian dragon from ripping the roof off the pavilion like opening a trick or treat bag and snapping us up like Halloween candy. My words, not his.

  “I knew there were only the four of you,” the boss said, “and that Viktor wouldn’t have let anything keep him from getting to the island and his diamonds.”

  Including homicidal merpeople and the harpies with grenades.

  “Also, the lab had the results of the DNA test on the remains from Bastian’s office,” she continued. “Of course, you already knew that the dead man wasn’t Bastian. Given that the victim looked exactly like him, and that Bastian had been essentially refusing to leave his house for the past few months, concluding that he’d been infected with gorgonism was a logical assumption.”

  “Okay, I’m having a problem with part of this,” I said.

  Ian let out a short laugh. “Only part?”

  “Yeah, good point. But this one’s at the top of the list. Sebastian du Beckett picked out, lured into his home, and killed a total stranger just to throw us off his trail, so he clearly didn’t have a problem with murder. And from what I’ve heard the past few days, he wasn’t exactly a social butterfly. Add willingness to murder and antisocial curmudgeon, and if anyone would be a natural as a gorgon, it would be Sebastian du Beckett. Yet to cure himself, he knocks out those harpies for six days, organizes a major jewel heist, and pisses off the likes of Viktor Kain. And if he wouldn’t leave his house, how did he put those harpies into stasis? That was done at or around Heathrow, right?”

  “All excellent points, dear Makenna,” Rake said. “Though there is one more thing that bothers me, and it is not insignificant. I make it a point to know the magical capabilities of those who I may be forced to do business with. Sebastian du Beckett was a sorcerer of only moderate skill.”

  “Digging into Bastian’s background, we found that his mother was a Greek sorceress who had a way with harpies,” Ms. Sagadraco said.

  “I did not know about his mother, Madame Sagadraco. While pertinent, it does not negate my hypothesis. I believe that Sebastian du Beckett did not act alone. Even if he despised the very ground upon which we trod—and I will admit to having given him ample reason on occasion—his motivations felt somewhat lacking. I know you may not—”

  “I agree.”

  “You do?” Rake was taken aback, almost comically so.

  Vivienne Sagadraco offered up an amused smile. “Is it that inconceivable that we would arrive at a similar conclusion from time to time?”

  “No, it’s merely that—”

  Her eyes twinkled. “See? We agree again.”

  I wasn’t sure which was more fun, watching the boss toy with Rake Danescu, or seeing the goblin flustered. Nice thing was, I didn’t have to choose; I sat back and enjoyed them both.

  “While Bastian’s mother was a sorceress,” Ms. Sagadraco said, “and was probably qualified to put harpies into and bring them out of stasis, it doesn’t necessarily mean that her son had the same skill.”

  “Is his mother still alive?” I paused and grimaced. “Or some kind of undead?”

  “Neither, Agent Fraser. She is deceased—and has remained that way. In addition to the questions raised by Bastian being in his home in New York, and the harpies shipping from London, whoever brought those harpies out of stasis would have to have been present at the museum and in the Sackler Wing within sight of the ‘statue.’ Sebastian du Beckett was not at the Metropolitan Museum that night. He was at home at the time the harpies were awakened. He was receiving a package at that time from a courier service, and he came to the door and signed for it personally.”

  “Could it have been the homeless man who looked like him?” I asked.

  Ms. Sagadraco shook her head. “The signature was Bastian’s, and the courier service is used for delivering high-value items. Bastian dealt in antiquities, so his brownstone was a regular stop for them. The owner of the company is familiar with the supernatural community, and since his service occasionally handles objects of a paranormal nature, he is familiar with ways that fraud and theft during delivery could occur—namely shapeshifters hired to impersonate the recipient. The delivery agent wears a lapel camera which takes a photo of the recipient. That photo is subjected to a computerized fifteen-point identification verification. Within seconds, the recipient’s identity is either confirmed or rejected. If approved, the package is retrieved from the armored vehicle and delivered.”

  I whistled. “So if they said it was du Beckett, it was du Beckett.”

  “They have never been wrong.”

  “I use the service myself,” Rake said. “Even if Bastian had an identical twin, it wouldn’t have been a match.”

  “So if du Beckett wasn’t in London, and he wasn’t at the museum,” I asked, “then who was?”

  “Of the sorcerers previously unknown to us who were recorded on the Metropolitan’s surveillance cameras, four were known to be in the Sackler Wing when the theft occurred. All are accounted for except for one who has vanished, and who has a rather distinctive facial quality.”

  “Let me guess, the woman who was packing more magical mojo than anyone else there?”

  “The very one.”

  “Have we found out anything else about her?”

  “Nothing. It’s as if she didn’t exist before the night of the exhibition, and has ceased to exist now.”

  Ian cast a sideways glance at Rake Danescu, but addressed his statement to the boss. “In other words, it sounds like she’s not from around here.”

  “We are leaning toward an extra-dimensional being,” Ms. Sagadraco said. “Or at least one that is adept at concealing their identity by not remaining in any one dimension for too long. If she were still here, or had left, but used a mortal means of travel, there would have been some trace of a trail.”

  Ian regarded Rake with suspicion. “So, Danescu, do you know any high-powered ladies who would be interested in having New York wiped clean of supernaturals and most of SPI?”

  “Off the top of my head, I don’t—”

  “I don’t care about the top of your head,” Ian
said, his voice low and intense. “I want to hear what you know. You weren’t expecting Sebastian du Beckett to be here any more than we were. So who did you think you were going to find when you got here? You were in your boat, on the East River, and heading this way when I called you, and don’t say you were going to a Halloween party.”

  “Why don’t you say what you’re thinking? That I was dressed like I was up to no good.”

  “You haven’t answered my question.”

  “And I don’t intend to.”

  Ian went dangerously still. “It’s all secrets and games with you. You’re playing with lives, and you—”

  Rake stepped in on him, putting them almost nose to nose. This was about to get ugly.

  “My life was one of them. How dare—”

  “Your life is all that matters, isn’t it? If you could no longer hide what you are from humans, all you’d have to do is go home. You wouldn’t be reduced to a pile of dust, or be on the run for the rest of your life. You risk noth—”

  The goblin’s eyes blazed. “I’m risking more than you’ll ever kn—” Rake stopped and blew out his breath in a sharp hiss from between clenched teeth—and two very prominent fangs.

  Vivienne Sagadraco stood.

  That was all it took.

  Both men immediately backed down. The top of her head barely reached their shoulders, but when you’re a dragon—and a fire-breather—the size of your human form didn’t mean a thing.

  Though I think the main reason was respect.