Dragon Bites: Stormwalker, Book 6

by Allyson James

  “Not alone,” Mick said quickly.

  Fine by me. I didn’t mind dinner out with Mick, and besides, I wanted to grill him about the dragon slayer.

  “What about him?” I pointed at the slayer.

  Drake folded his arms. “I will remain here.”

  “With me,” Titus put in. “Maybe I’ll get a few questions in before this one shuts him up again.”

  Drake, again, didn’t look offended. He settled against the wall, stoic, still in the jeans and T-shirt he’d acquired in Las Vegas.

  “I will also question him,” Elena said. “He is strong. And strange.”

  “Be careful,” I said. I directed my words mostly to Ansel.

  He gave me a boyish grin. “Never fear, Janet. I have sated myself with cow’s blood, courtesy of Elena. I will not go Nightwalker and end the dragon slayer—unless he tries to kill someone. Then I will not be held accountable for my actions. He’s not quite human anymore.”

  I had to leave it at that. Upstairs, Cassandra, who had also been in on the interrogation, Mick said, but had resumed her duties once the dragon slayer had been put out of commission, barely glanced from her computer to give me a nod. She was checking in a couple who looked like ordinary tourists, but who held a faint whiff of magic. Low-level mages, I guessed.

  Pamela, Cassandra’s girlfriend, lounged on a sofa in the lobby, her long legs stretched out. She was a Changer and always wore the look of a watchful wolf, even in her human form. A boy of about twelve sat on another sofa, regarding her with awe.

  Mick and I departed on his bike for the diner in Magellan. It was full when we reached it, but Mick managed to snag us a booth from someone who was just leaving.

  The whole town must be here. There was Fremont, squeezed into a corner with Flora, one of the hotel’s maids. Emilio Salas, out of his police uniform, ate with his two brothers.

  Jamison Kee, my oldest friend, sat in a booth in the back with his wife, Naomi, and his daughter, Julie. The three had been avoiding me, because they guessed I’d had something to do with Julie’s restored hearing, and none were comfortable enough to talk about it with me yet.

  A large man swung around on a stool at the counter. He wore jeans, a denim jacket, shiny gray cowboy boots with pointed, roach-killer toes, a long black braid bound with a silver ring, and a hefty amount of silver and turquoise jewelry, including an old-fashioned squash-blossom necklace.

  “Janet!” Coyote’s roar cut through the heavy throb of voices. “How are you? Ready for the end of the world?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Janet

  Coyote rose from the stool, the bulk of him filling the crowded space, grabbed me off my feet, and hugged me hard.

  Mick watched from two inches away, pretending to smile affably, but I felt his tension. He didn’t trust Coyote. They had a past.

  I hugged Coyote in return, happy to see him. He’d been evasive since the big fight with Emmett at my hotel, and I missed him. I’d seen him in town, playing the storyteller for the kids and charming the tourists, but he’d only waved to me in passing and never sought me out.

  I wasn’t surprised. Coyote usually only talks to me when something bad is going on.

  Coyote signaled to Jolene, who worked behind the counter, walked straight to our booth, and sat himself down. Jolene, just emerging with his food, followed him and deposited a huge plate of chicken-fried steak with a mountain of mashed potatoes, everything smothered in gravy, in front of him. A freshly opened bottle of beer followed, Jolene delivering the order with a wide smile before she retreated.

  Mick guided me into the seat opposite Coyote and sat down tightly next to me, knowing Coyote didn’t always keep his hands to himself. Coyote’s excuse is that he’s the trickster god, a thief, and a womanizer. Of course he’d snuggle up to a pretty woman.

  Whenever he tries that bullshit on me now, I remind him that I know his wife. Makes him contrite real fast.

  I wished she was here. Bear was a goddess of deep wisdom, who might know a) what evil was coming, and b) how to defeat it.

  As Coyote ate, Mick filled me and Coyote in on what the dragon slayer had said before Drake hit him. The Earth devours. It will not rest until it is appeased.

  “I wouldn’t know how to fight the Earth itself,” I said. “How is that even possible?”

  “He didn’t say the Earth, specifically,” Mick, ever practical, responded. “He said an entity, which to me means a god of some kind. Maybe one so old it doesn’t have a name anymore.”

  Jolene returned and gave Mick and me an expectant look, her pen poised to take our orders. Mick asked for two burgers with all the works, coffee for me, and beer for himself.

  I used to chafe when Mick presumed to order for me, as though I were his sub, or something, but I had to admit he did know what I liked. We always got our food faster and cooked especially well when he charmed the waitresses, so I let it go. Jolene melted under his smile and moved back to the kitchen.

  Coyote took a large bite of steak and potatoes. He was a god, one of the oldest, and he did not have to nourish himself with human food, but he seriously enjoyed it.

  “How do you think the world formed?” he asked us after he swallowed.

  Mick shrugged. “Accretion. Matter blasted from an exploding star got caught in the gravity of the sun and eventually formed planets.”

  Coyote threw back his head and laughed. “Accretion? That’s hilarious. You mean rocks ran into each other until they stuck together? And the Earth was created? With all its water and trees and animals?”

  “That came later,” Mick said, unoffended. “Primordial ooze and amino acids. That whole thing.”

  “No gods involved, huh?” Coyote bashed at his potatoes, mixing them with the gravy. “You don’t have time for gods, do you?”

  “I’m a dragon,” Mick said, keeping his voice quiet, not that anyone could hear in the madness of the diner. “I’m realistic. Gods might have pushed at things and directed them here and there, but the universe is an amazing place without them.”

  Coyote shook his head, the diner’s lights gleaming on the gloss of his hair. “You are looking at only the outside. Gravity, the weakest force in the universe, might have stuck planets together and had them revolve around the sun, our sun around a galaxy, our galaxy clustering with others. See, I read books too. But—you know about the Beneath world, the shells of worlds inside shells. You’ve been there. So have I—I was born there. Janet has been there too. Good times, right, Janet?”

  “If you mean horrible, terrifying times, then yes,” I said. “Mick lost his magic when we went Beneath—he barely remembered who he was.”

  Mick nodded, then paused to accept his beer from a waiter, one of the vast Hansen clan, who also thunked down my coffee. The diner’s staff was being run off their feet tonight.

  “I figured Beneath is not a physical realm inside the Earth’s crust,” Mick said calmly. “But another dimension entirely. The multiple universes idea. When Beneath was spent and evil beings were taking over, gods like yourself found a way to bridge into this universe. The vortexes are like wormholes, which is why they don’t all lead to one specific place Beneath—each vortex leads to a different dimension, or a different aspect of that dimension.”

  Coyote listened, his smile broad. “So the dragon believes in quantum physics.” He lifted his beer bottle and tapped it to Mick’s.

  “It has nothing to do with belief,” Mick said good-naturedly. “The physical world is what it is. Whether I believe it or not.”

  “Good answer. But you weren’t around when I found the way up from Beneath, eons before you were born. We only made it to this layer of the world because the Earth allowed it. In time, it didn’t like the creatures that escaped with us, objected to being invaded, and tried to obliterate us.”

  I locked my hands around my coffee cup. This didn’t sound good. “So what did you do?”

  “Hid,” Coyote said. “A lot of beings were lost, though, the good as w
ell as evil. The Earth didn’t distinguish. I don’t think it knew how.”

  “Kind of like the flood in the Bible,” I said. “Expunging creation and starting again.”

  “Exactly like the flood in the Bible. That story is ancient, repeated in many cultures, with only slight variations. In each, the gods are displeased with what has become of their Earth and wipe the slate clean to start over.”

  Something cold clenched in my belly. “Are you telling me we have to go up against God?” I tried to speak lightly. “My grandmother would not be happy about that.”

  “Your grandmother is a wonderful woman, if too quick to smack a helpless coyote with a broom.” Coyote winced at the memory. “She could probably teach the gods a few things. Never tell her I said so.”

  “I draw the line at fighting God.” I smiled, knowing—hoping—he was joking.

  “Nothing like that,” Coyote said, to my relief. “This is not an unseeable god of all the universe. It’s one that grew inside the Earth—grew with it, you could say, became a part of it. Earth magic comes from it, or it caused Earth magic to manifest. Not sure which. It is why he exists.” He pointed at Mick. “And why your storm powers formed, and why Nightwalkers … walk.”

  Mick took a placid sip of beer. “How do we fight it?”

  “I don’t know,” was Coyote’s comforting answer. “I don’t know if it can be fought.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “Very helpful.”

  “Everything has a weakness.” Mick folded his hands around his beer bottle, the general in him coming out. “Where did you hide the last time? Might be a place we can send Janet, out of harm’s way.”

  Coyote shrugged. “Beneath.” He lifted his beer. “Not sure that’s where Janet should go.”

  No, I should not. My mother was there, for one thing, waiting to kill me. Even if I didn’t go to her exact dimension, the skinwalkers and other demons wouldn’t be to happy to see me either.

  I gave Coyote a level stare. “One day, I’ll come to you for help, and you’ll actually help.”

  “Now, that wouldn’t be any fun.” Coyote lost his grin and leaned closer to me, his expression serious. “I know one thing, Janet. You can’t hide from this. You’ll have to face it. Will you be strong enough?”

  “I don’t know.” I sighed. “But I’m still recovering from the mess with Emmett.”

  “You mean when you absorbed all that power and became the strongest magical being in the world? For ten minutes?” Coyote looked thoughtful. “Maybe you could do that again.”

  “Not anytime soon.” I shuddered. “I can’t explain what that felt like.”

  Horrible. Glorious. I’d believed—no, I’d known—I could fight anything, kill anyone, do whatever I wanted. All emotion had gone out the window—love, hate, joy. I hadn’t cared for anything but my power. It had been awful.

  Mick’s hand found mine, and he gave my fingers a squeeze. I’d almost killed him, had wanted to kill him, had known exactly how to. And he’d stood there and loved me anyway.

  I swallowed. “I never want to do that again.”

  Coyote shrugged and took a sip of beer. “You probably wouldn’t be able to, in any case. Had to be a specific set of circumstances. You returned all the power to all those people, let them find peace. Your choice.” He scooped up a snowball-sized portion of potatoes with his fork. “I was proud of you.”

  His words warmed me—Coyote wasn’t lavish with praise, at least not with me. I basked in it, and Mick’s hand on mine, until Jolene came out and slammed burgers and a huge basket of fries down in front of us.

  “Oh, one thing,” Coyote said as we dug in. “Watch over Gabrielle. She’s going to need you.”

  I nearly choked on my first bite of cheeseburger. I set it down hastily and gulped water. “Shit, why are you telling me this now? I left her alone in Las Vegas. Well, with Colby. And Nash.”

  “Good,” Coyote said. “As long as she has guardians. She’s fine for now, but there will come a time when she’ll need you.”

  “You mean to fight this Earth entity, or whatever it is?”

  Coyote only gave me his best cryptic You’ll figure it out when you need to, Janet, look.

  I let it go. Pressing him for details would only make him speak in more riddles.

  I made myself relax and enjoy my burger, which was tasty. For a while, we simply ate, three friends meeting for dinner at Magellan’s diner. Normal—if anything in this town could be called normal.

  Coyote had scraped his plate clean and drained his beer when a twelve-year-old girl with honey-brown hair and blue eyes halted by our booth.

  “Julie!” Coyote bellowed. He rose, caught Julie in a hug, and lifted her up to rest in the crook of his arm. Julie was getting taller every day, but Coyote held her easily, and she looked content to hang in his arms.

  “How’s my favorite lady?” Coyote asked, kissing her cheek.

  “Just fine,” Julie said. “I came to talk to Janet.”

  Everyone in the diner was watching, overtly or covertly, a few blatantly staring.

  The news that deaf Julie could now hear had made it around town with lightning speed. Most assumed Jamison and Naomi had saved up for surgery and implants for her, and all were pleased the procedure had been successful.

  Those who believed in Magellan’s magical aura knew some kind of spell had gone on, maybe one to enhance the surgery. Either way, the town rejoiced with the family, and few but Jamison and family connected Julie’s restored hearing with me.

  Coyote gave Julie another hug, set her down, and invited her to sit with us. Julie complied, sliding in next to him and resting her arms on the table. Her limbs had taken on the lankiness of early teen years, but I could see a softness in her, the budding of beauty.

  “I’m sorry Mom and Jamison won’t talk to you,” Julie said to me. “They’re a little freaked out.”

  I couldn’t blame them. I hadn’t been anywhere near Julie when she’d woken up able to hear, but Jamison, who was a shaman and a Changer, had known that immense magic had found its way to Julie and figured I was the cause.

  “It’s okay,” I said, but Julie shook her head.

  “No, it isn’t.” Her words were a bit slurred, and I saw her pause, try to listen to herself, and change the movement of her tongue. “I told Mom you were my friend, and I won’t let anything stand in the way of that.” She made a dismissing gesture with her slim hands. “They’ll get over it.”

  “I’m sorry.” I closed my mouth, feeling stupid for apologizing—I would never take back what I had done, even if I knew how.

  Julie laughed. “What, that you cured me? Yeah, I’m all broken up inside. All the noise kind of gives me a headache, but I’m getting used to it. I cried for almost a whole day, but not because I was sorry.” She gave me a twelve-year-old wide-eyed stare. “Because I knew this time it would stick.”

  Once before, a spell had restored her hearing, but the magic had been temporary, lasting only until the object that helped make the spell disappeared, taken by a goddess who knew where. Julie had been resigned about the whole thing, as though knowing the healing had been too good to be true.

  Julie looked different now, vibrant and excited, like a kid should.

  “All right,” I said, squaring my shoulders. “I’m not sorry.” I’d do it again, I decided, even if I had to experience that raw, all-consuming, terrifying power to heal her. Julie was worth it.

  “I like your voice, Janet,” Julie said, cocking her head. “It reminds me of how velvet feels.”

  I flushed, too pleased to answer.

  “You know what I like best, though?” she went on. “Being able to hear my mom. And listening to Jamison play his flute. He’s teaching me how.”

  I reached for a napkin from the dispenser and wiped my eyes. Julie grinned at me. “I keep making people cry,” she said. “It’s so easy.”

  Coyote rumbled a laugh. “That’s my girl.”

  “Coyote sounds like thunder,” Julie obser
ved, and wrinkled her nose. “Really loud.”

  “We love him anyway,” I said. “What about Mick? What does he sound like?”

  I glanced at Mick whose eyes were suspiciously moist. “Yeah, what do I sound like?” he asked in genuine curiosity.

  Julie regarded him closely, assessing. “Sexy,” she concluded.

  The three of us burst out laughing, and Julie joined in.

  Julie glanced across the diner. “Have to go. Looks like Mom and Jamison want to leave. They didn’t try to stop me coming to talk to you, don’t worry. They’re not really mad at you. Just, you know, confused.” She gave me a sage nod, a kid who had long ago realized that adults were slow.

  She rose, bent to give Coyote a warm kiss on the cheek, fluttered her hand to us, then trotted to Jamison and Naomi, who waited at the diner’s door.

  Naomi caught my eye. Instead of looking away as she had for the last month, she flushed and met my gaze. It was a neutral look but with a touch of wistfulness, as though she wanted to talk to me but couldn’t for the life of her think of what to say. I gave her a little nod to show her I understood.

  Jamison, on the other hand, underwent a transformation. His stolid quietness shattered, and he broke from Julie and Naomi as he strode down the aisle for me.

  Mick was on his feet, ready to stop Jamison if he shifted into his mountain lion and attacked me. That would be an interesting news story for the tiny local paper.

  At the last second, Mick stepped aside so Jamison could haul me into his arms. My face squashed against his hard shoulder, the scent of wood smoke, stone, and outdoors filling me as his long hair tickled my cheek.

  Jamison, my oldest friend, the man who’d rescued me when I was crying on a ledge in Canyon de Chelley, terrified of my storm magic, Jamison who was calm and sensible, and definitely not demonstrative in public, now squeezed me in a breath-stealing hug.

  We stood this way for a long time, while people around us either laughed, or said “Awww,” or “Not right in front of your wife, Kee,” or “Watch it, Jamison, her boyfriend’s tough.”