December 20, 8:14 pm
“Are we getting close?”
Ugh, this dreamblood is yappy. I’m grateful for the neat vambrace on my leg. I can tell it’s enchanted but doesn’t have any enthralling qualities to it, so it’s not like I’m his pet or anything. But all these attempts at conversation are a mite grating, not to mention he keeps calling me by the name of my human guise. I mean, rude, right?
I also have no idea what his investment in bringing down the Dragon King might be, other than him simply being dreamblooded, and he doesn’t even smell like a purebred one.
“James?”
I grit my many teeth, which weren’t built for that sort of treatment. “What now?”
“What’s a White Dragon’s treasure type?”
Oh great, sure, now he’s rubbing in that I’m broke, like most of my clan. “Not as good as a Red’s, is that what you want to hear? Or that uppity damned Golden’s. I’m broke, and I’m just looking for some volunteer work to help out humanity. What have you done in a charitable sense lately, hm?” I smirk, satisfied. Dwarves aren’t known for their philanthropy. They’re known for…uh…sensing gradients. Weird, why would I know that? Seems a pretty lame thing to be known for.
“Um…” He sounds worried. “What’s your name?”
“Hmph. Like I’d tell that to a—” I sniff the air, scan the earth below, my eyes straining as they focus, which feels odd, and odder still that it feels odd, like I’d never zoomed my vision in before. The weirdness fades though, as I see what I’ve been searching for, ambling along the side of a highway, away from a roadside diner that I can smell from up here. Mmmmm, human food can be so decadent…even if they don’t know how to serve fish right.
No, no, focus, I should get down there.
“Hang on, Dwarf.” And I descend. I’d rather dive but the dreamblood would probably fall off, and I’d rather not piss off a clan of blacksmiths who’ll spend the rest of their days forging a Zweihänder named Snowslayer or something.
It’s odd that His Majesty is walking along the side of the road. Maybe the diner is where the new Ra’keth is? Pretty funny, considering the idea of a sorcerer being at some greasy spoon is…
Actually it sounds sort of familiar, now that I think about it.
“James!”
Shit, right, got distracted and went too fast. It’s hard to keep everything juggled in my head, especially the human guise. Maybe I should just bag it for a while and focus on being what I am: a dragon that’s going to kick His Majesty’s ass, take the throne and earn some respect for the Snow Clan.
So, obviously, I’ve got surprise on my side when I crash into his side and send his golden self tumbling into the field, seeing as I don’t want him colliding with the diner and killing my new boss.
Tyras rolls over languidly, and just…keeps moving along? He does realize I just hit him, right? “Hey! What, you’re so superior you won’t even acknowledge a usurpation attempt by my clan?”
“James!” The Dwarf hops off me, thankfully, as that frees me up for better movement.
I snort a bit of frost in his bearded face, not too badly. “Stop calling me that, do I look human to you?” I leave him behind, stomping toward the Golden. Maybe a bite to the neck will get his attention.
“Slartibartfast!”
Finally someone gets my name right. I crane my neck around behind me to see someone familiar, and he doesn’t seem all that pleased. Ugh, what happened to his hair? How many colors is that? I sniff the air, his scent triggering a few memories. Wait, wait, I think I know this guy.
“Thank God you got him to stop.” The Dwarf knows him too, looks like. “He’s lost himself, he doesn’t remember who he is. He thinks he’s actually a dragon and wants to kill the Dragon King.”
The man looks at the Dwarf, shocked. “Oh shit, I put the whammy on their king? I mean, I’m a good trickster but, damn, their king?” He glances off into the field. I can smell a little blood. Is he hurt? He doesn’t look or smell hurt.
“Forget that, Coyote, we’ve got to remind him who he is before the new Ra’keth takes the throne.” Wait, that guy’s a Coyote? No wonder I probably know him. They’re a funny and friendly sort. Too bad I don’t have any money. He could probably give me some good investment advice.
“There’s a new one?” He points toward the diner. “What, in there? Shit…” He chuckles softly to himself, then shakes his head. “No, no, gotta focus on something other than…” The Coyote stares at me. “Slartibartfast? That’s your name, right?”
I snort in annoyance. “Of course it is. I have no idea what my parents were thinking, but—”
“I named you that.” He takes a step closer. “In fact, I’ve given you two names, for both of your forms. Slartibartfast for this form, and James Black for the other.”
Huh, now that I think about it, that is correct. That must be why I know him. He’s probably my friend.
“I’d like to tell you about your human form.” A few more steps and he reaches his hand out, touches my snout. “That would be okay?”
“Of course, I trust you.” Certainly more than the Dwarf. The Coyote just seems to have a…quality, I think is the word.
“Good, because everything I’m about to tell you is the absolute truth. You know that, right?”
I nod. “I doubt you’d lie to me if you gave me both my names. You and I are friends, I’m guessing.”
He smiles, charmingly, relieved. “Yeah, probably best friends. And right now, I need you to remember who you really are because you can’t imagine how much I need you right now. So, are you ready?”
I nod again, since this is apparently vital information.
“Okay. I first met you at Victory Station, you were human, and you were going by a different name then, one your own parents gave you. But you had to give it up because you were getting away from someone who was hurting you.”
I snort derisively. “I doubt anyone could hurt me. These scales aren’t just for show.” Still, it feels oddly familiar.
He doesn’t comment, just continues with the story. “You met me during one of the low points of my life, when I was running from a bad situation, and I was minutes away from my escape. But I gave my exit to you, and you said—”
“That you were my hero.” That does sound familiar. Must’ve been in my human form. But if someone was hurting me, why didn’t I just turn into a dragon?
“Yeah, and I needed to be reminded that I could be that, heroic, to put someone else’s needs and safety above my own. You did that. And I gave you a name to go by until you didn’t need it anymore. And that name was James Black. Later on, you were given another name. The name that defines who you are.”
The Coyote looks directly into my eyes, and the words emerge in Sigil. “You are James Black, the Lightning Rod, Ra’keth of the Argent City, Holder of the Throne of the Sorcerer King.” His face pales, but speaking in Sigil tends to do that to people. But…his words. They…I…
“I’m…the Ra’keth?” But if that’s true, I’m human, not a dragon, and turning back would be as simple as…
One uttered word, then a flash of light, and I collapse into Spencer’s arms, the staff tumbling into the grass. “I forgot I was human.” I look up at him. “You helped me remember.” I hug him tight. “Oh God, I almost lost myself forever. I’m never doing that again, never ever ever…” Oh shit. “Where’s Tyras? The other dragon?”
That son of a bitch.
He was going to kill some random person, probably traumatize a building full of people, let me think I was a dragon for the rest of my life (with a big inferiority complex, I might add), and probably keep me as his pet because he saw an opening for the throne and wanted to take his shot.
Well fuck that.
He wants to meet the real me?
“James!” It’s Ozzie, but I’m not in the mood f
or that right now. “James!”
“What?” I turn around, glare at him, and he staggers back a few steps, Spencer appearing put off as well.
Whatever. I put my attention back on Tyras. He’s still just a dragon here, and I’m the goddamned Ra’keth.
“What are you going to do?” Spencer’s hand is on my shoulder, but it immediately jolts back, probably from the electricity racing and crackling along my skin. “Jesus, would you calm down?”
“What the hell do you think, Spencer?”
“I’m not letting you kill him.”
“Do you have any idea what he did to me? What he put me through?” I shove him aside but he doesn’t back down, putting himself between Tyras and me. “Move.”
“I’m sure he put you through hell but if I wouldn’t kill him, then you’re not going to.”
I roll my eyes. “Why would you kill a dragon, those are meal tickets for Coyotes.”
“He killed my father. I am having a shit day, and I’m not going to allow you to make it any worse for either of us. Now stop, leave the dragon alone, and let’s all just go home.” His lower lip trembles slightly. “Please.”
Fuck.
Fuck fuck fuckity fuck.
I didn’t know Tyras had killed Spencer’s dad. When did that happen? Jesus, I hope it wasn’t in the time since Spence and I met, because then maybe I could’ve done something to prevent it or… God, what do I do?
Well, I didn’t know his dad, but I do know Spencer, and as pissed as I am at Tyras, there’s really only one way I can handle this situation without hurting my friend.
I push Spence aside again. He closes his eyes as I pass.
Spence wouldn’t kill him. So neither can I.
“Tyras!” I have the dragon’s attention; his eyes are confused, but he seems to recognize me. And…oh shit, what the hell is emanating off him? It’s like…wispy chains that go all around him, through him, his heart and his mind, binding his mouth closed and… “As your king, I decree that you are banished to your realm, never to return. You will live out your days there, caring for your dragons, ensuring that they are well-treated by me and any Ra’keth that follows me, but you will never come back to this world. Understand?”
He only makes a soft whimper, but punctuates it with a nod.
“Good. When you return home, you will be free from any curses laid on you.” I glance back at Spencer. “Because no one should have to suffer like that.”
It doesn’t take long for the working. He’s soon gone.
I don’t know what I was expecting, really. I thought there would be a magical duel between us, maybe to the death. Some part of me, I know, wanted it that way. Some part of me liked when I killed the Usurper months ago, cut him open and left him to bleed out in Tartarus. The same part that made putting a scissor blade through my ex’s heart not as hard as I thought it would be, the part of me that accepted the power Cale gave me with his last breath, and wanted more. The same part that makes my eyes go black and my veins stand pronounced and dark against my skin, that would make anyone mistake me for a villain.
When I come out of my reverie, I’m on my knees, exhausted. Spencer’s hand is on my shoulder. “I’m sorry about the curse. That part of your Bard thing?”
“Yeah.” He sits down next to me. “And it’s okay. I’m all right with him never coming back.”
“He killed your father, though.”
“Well.” He shrugs. “Dad was kind of a dick. Don’t get me wrong, he’s my dad and I loved him, I think. But, uh, it was in the heat of the moment, and I’m still pissed and raw about it, but he didn’t want me to mope. Killing that dragon, making him suffer, that’s not a tribute to Dad, you know? Swindling some whale out of half a million dollars in Vegas and blowing it all on whiskey, strippers and ‘massages’ would be.”
I’ll admit I snerk at that.
“Can I tell you a secret?”
He grins, he calls it his Coyote Smile. “Absolutely.”
I lean and whisper. “I hate my job, Spence. Seriously. I hate it. I’d give it all up to that random person who is probably in that restaurant over there.”
“So why don’t you?”
I glance at a family getting into their car in the parking lot and sigh. “Because I wouldn’t wish this on anyone. So I might as well do it and rock the boat as little as possible.” I get up, help him up as well and glance over at Ozzie, who still looks awfully worried. “I’m okay, Oz. At least I will be.”
He takes that as his cue to come over, bringing the staff with him. “I’m sorry, I tried to keep you from slipping into that… I’m sorry.”
I wave it off and take the staff. “Not your fault, I screwed up. Don’t worry, won’t happen again. I don’t plan on being a dragon for a good long while.”
“Well, uh.” Spencer speaks up. “Probably a good idea for us to continue this conversation in the car, on the road, driving away from here, considering those nice people in the diner probably just saw either two semis colliding, my dad trying to carjack a tour bus, or any other number of illegal things. Car’s over there, let’s go.”
“I’ll call a cab.” Ozzie looks away. “You two can go ahead.”
“Spence, could you get the car started? We’ll be right over.”
I take Ozzie aside while Spencer heads to what looks like a luxury sedan. “Everything okay? Figured you’d be in a better mood, I mean…” I press the button on the staff to make it collapse. Damn, that’s cool. “We did just win. We’re all okay, well, except for Spencer. I thought…”
“You were… Your eyes were…” He can’t make eye contact. “I don’t know what, didn’t know what you were, what you were going to do…”
I put my hand on his shoulder. “Ozzie, I would never hurt you, you know that. Look at me, I’m fine, I’m okay. My head’s still a little fuzzy but I know who I am and what I am.”
“The Ra’keth.” He looks at his feet. “You’re the Ra’keth.”
I shrug. “Well, yeah. You knew that when we met.”
“I knew, but…but I never really thought about what that meant. When you claimed the staff, you were… I finally realized what you were capable of, how there’s so much about you that I don’t know, that you might not even know. I…” When his eyes meet mine, they’re moist. “James, I don’t know if I can do this.”
Everything, even the air, suddenly feels really heavy. “Oz, are you saying that you, that we’re…”
“I just don’t know if I can handle this, James. I’m sorry, I just don’t know. You’re amazing and everything I thought I was looking for—”
“But now, it’s hitting you that you’re dating the guy who ends the world, who’s got a target on his back and that target might include you. It’s okay, I get it.” It doesn’t make it hurt any less. “You, um, I get it. I uh…” I sniff back some tears. “I gotta go.”
“James…”
“I gotta go.” I push past him and run over to the car that Spence had pointed out, leaving Ozzie behind me. I don’t say anything, just get in, Spencer adjusting the seat as someone taller was driving it.
“You okay?”
“Drive.” The engine starts, and the Coyote blinks a couple times at the ignition, then me.
“All right.” He does a U-turn and begins driving toward the City. “Might want to calm down, at least out of Dark Wizard mode, okay? We don’t have to talk, I won’t ask what happened.”
“He broke up with me.” I wipe my eyes on my sleeve. “That’s what happened. Should’ve figured I couldn’t have something normal.” I glare at him. “And if you make one fucking rebound comment—”
“Jesus, James, I wouldn’t do that. I was joking when I said that, what, six months ago? I’m surprised you even remember. I’m going to drop you off at Dave’s, and then I’m going to shoot pool until all the bars close so you can just b
rood or be pissed or throw things or whatever until you call me and tell me you’re ready to talk about it.”
I glance out the window. “That’s awfully mature of you.”
I hear him mutter under his breath, but I don’t quite catch it. “What was that?”
“Nothing. Just that I’ll give you all the time you need. I don’t recommend pulling a heist on a vampire to get over it, by the way, didn’t turn out all that well for me. I’d also advise against petty theft, trying Goldschläger, telling the captain of the lacrosse team his girlfriend’s ass isn’t as cute as his, breaking into a chop shop to steal back an eight-year-old Civic with sticky transmission or filling a Kitsune’s apartment with about eight thousand dollars worth of Hello Kitty merchandise.” He points at me without looking. “There’s a smile. So no matter how shitty today was, at least you smiled.”
“Spence, why are you my friend?”
He appears to be about to say something, but stops. “Because if that’s what I can be, then that’s what I’ll take. Like my friend Bank says, ‘It’s easier to have friends than enemies.’ Granted, I don’t speak as many languages as he does.
“Shouldn’t take us too long to get back. Need you rested and recovered since the dragons and the Fae are likely going to have a bit of a spat, not to mention the Fae are getting pissy about twin-bloods and other bullshit.”
He smirks at me. “See? You thought you could avoid getting involved, but now you know about it. Your consciousness has been raised.”
“Tomorrow, I’ll worry about it tomorrow.”
“As well you should, unless we end up first against the wall when the revolution comes.” He glances at me. “Please say you’ve at least started reading it.”
I shake my head, he rolls his eyes. “I’ll buy you a copy, that’s a crime that needs to be corrected.”
A few seconds pass, and he looks at me again. “Just trying to get your mind off it so you don’t do anything you’ll regret. Actually, you’re not the only one trying to get his mind off shit. Gotta wonder how many microbrews Bjorn thinks saving his life is worth. Probably worth a burger or something too. Hey, you like Skee-Ball? I could drive us to Jersey, we’ll find a boardwalk, and by the time we’ve earned enough tickets for the teddy bear this fucking shit day will be over.”
Breaking Ties Page 23