Hunting Down Dragons (Moonlight Dragon #2)

by Tricia Owens

  "My friend Melanie," I said, introducing her. I hesitated, then added purposefully, "And my boyfriend, Vale."

  Inwardly I cringed, half-expecting Vale to correct me, but he just nodded a greeting at Rob, whose mood visibly improved.

  In fact, he practically had a spring in his step as he walked over to the mixing board and studied the bone chips from over Zach's shoulder.

  "Definitely dragon bone," he murmured, squinting down at the pieces. He raised his silver eyes to me. "I recognize the compulsion, too. This is for making a golem."

  "That's right," I said excitedly. "Do you know anyone in town who might have made that?"

  Rob straightened to his full height, but slowly, dramatically. I knew something bad was heading my way.

  "I do know, but the knowledge is going to cost you a favor," he said.

  Las Vegas was built on favors. It was all about who you knew. Before the corporations moved in in the last decade, the only way to get a job in most Strip casinos was by using "juice", that is, going through friends or friends of friends.

  The magickal community was no different, in that regard. If anything, favors were more heavily relied upon because everyone mistrusted everyone. When you didn't know if the guy you were dealing with could breathe fire or turn invisible, you learned to be wary and exchange services and favors rather than paper money, which could be easily magicked.

  "What kind of favor are we talking about?"

  Rob pointed at the bone chips. "The sorcerer who made that also made a cursed scrying ball. That's what he does: make cursed artifacts, except he refuses to sell or accept commissions, which leaves people like me in a pickle."

  "So you want me to steal the ball," I murmured, but my mind was racing ahead.

  Rob had said that this sorcerer's specialty was cursed artifacts, which meant there was a pretty damn good chance he was the one who'd not only made the gargoyle golem that my parents had been tracking, but also the necromancy artifact that was their ultimate target.

  "Who is it?" I demanded.

  Aware that he had the advantage, Rob just shook his head smugly. "Agree to the deal first."

  I looked to Melanie and Vale. "What do you think, guys?"

  "I think agreeing without knowing everything is idiotic," Vale said bluntly. He'd been ogled by Zach since we got here and I could tell his patience had reached its limit. "We don't know what we'd be facing."

  "How bad could it be?" I honestly didn't know, but Lucky was incredibly powerful. The two of us were near the top of the food chain when it came to magickal beings.

  Vale glared at me as though I were brain dead. "Think about what we're after, Moody. It's a necromancy artifact."

  "Ah." I'd kind of forgotten that small detail. Any sorcerer who'd found a way to raise the dead was bad news. Maybe even in Vagasso's league.

  As always, I considered the alternatives. I could probably use Lucky to torture Rob into giving us the name of the sorcerer, but that would likely get me in trouble not only with my friends but with the Oddsmakers as well. Not to mention who could be that kind of an asshole? Not me.

  Another option was to drive Rob and Zach out of here and ransack their place for clues that might reveal the sorcerer's identity. If Rob had such a hard-on for this scrying ball, there was a chance he had information about it in the apartment somewhere, information that could be tracked to its owner.

  But that would take time, and it might ultimately yield nothing. Twenty years had passed while this golem-maker had lived the good life. I wanted that to end and I wanted it to end yesterday.

  "I'll risk it," I told Vale and Melanie. I made a point of looking each of them in the eye. "This is my mission. I'm willing to face whatever is at the end of this. I told you I don't want you getting involved beyond the research."

  Melanie planted her hands on her hips. "Yeah, and we told you no way were we letting you do this on your own! If you're willing to try this, I'm with you, Anne. We'll kick some sorcerer butt and avenge your parents. Yeah!" She thrust up her fist like she was performing some kind of superhero salute. Or was that a Mexican Power move?

  "And you?" I asked Vale. "Feel free to walk away."

  "You're always trying to wear the pants," he muttered, not happy in the slightest. He ran a hand through his dark hair. "Fine."

  I played it cool turning back to Rob. "Give me the name and tell me what you know about him and his place and I'll get you your scrying ball."

  His eyes lit up giddily. "He's called Dearborn. Professor Dearborn. He used to teach at UNLV—Prehistoric Civilizations—but now he doesn't work for anyone that I've heard. He lives on the sixteenth floor of Nirvana North, the high rise on the West side of the Strip."

  "How can he afford a place like that if he's not working?" Vale questioned.

  Rob spread his hands. "He's a sorcerer. Anything is possible."

  "What kind of defenses does he have?" I crossed my fingers hopefully. "Just the condo security? Or some wards?"

  Rob's laugh made me feel dumb. "You must be joking. His place is rigged with all sorts of curses. Dangerous ones." He studied the fingernails of one hand, avoiding eye contact. "He's been targeted before. It was a failure. A very dark, ugly failure."

  "What happened?"

  "Black magick."

  "That's just great."

  "You made a deal," Rob snapped quickly.

  I waved him off. "Yeah, yeah, we made a deal." I felt like a sucker, though, even if it had been my own fault for agreeing. The last thing I wanted to do was become involved with more black magick.

  A look at Vale showed he shared my dismay and disgust.

  "You're the one who targeted him before, aren't you?" Melanie pressed like a terrier. Or more appropriately, a Chihuahua. "That's why you know about the black magick."

  Rob shrugged, not apologetic, but with tension in his shoulders that told me some things.

  "Whoever you sent to steal from Dearborn was hurt," I guessed. When he didn't acknowledge my suspicion, I went on, "How badly?"

  "It's not my fault if he wasn't prepared, okay?" Rob's voice was strident in his defensiveness. "My guy oversold himself and he paid the price."

  I groaned. This was getting worse and worse. "What was he? What was your guy's magickal ability?"

  "He was a warlock," Rob muttered. "But he was also a cat burglar. He claimed he could break into any building, no matter the security. He'd developed spells, he said. Specialized spells. He made it sound like entering Dearborn's condo wouldn't be a big deal. He'd done hundreds of similar break-ins, he'd said. This wouldn’t be any different."

  Vale took a threatening step forward. "What happened to him? No bullshit."

  Rob stood taller and tipped his chin up. "I'm not…one hundred percent sure. All I know is…a week after the job was supposed to be done, I began receiving packages. One a day for the next two weeks."

  Zach shuddered and his eyes went glassy. He dropped the rapper act as he moaned softly, "It was bad. I never want to go through that again."

  Rob put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "Priority Mail," he told us grimly. "Bits of the warlock I'd hired, only he was different. Mutated. Like he'd been fused with a-a crocodile. Zach thinks he was mummified but I think it was something even worse." He swallowed. "The last package was the largest, containing his—his head. What used to be a head. I only recognized him because he had memorable pale green eyes."

  "The color of honeydew melon," I whispered, aghast. "Not Jeremiah?"

  Rob looked sick. "You knew him?"

  I could only nod as my skin broke out in goose bumps. Personally knowing Jeremiah and hearing his awful fate put this into real perspective for me.

  "We're out of here," I said shakily, needing to put distance between myself and that awful story.

  "Wait, I have to tell you about the scrying ball!" Rob chased me as I stormed to the front door.

  "You're not afraid Dearborn will be irritated with you for trying to steal from him a second time
?" I challenged as I flung open the door and held it open for Vale and Melanie.

  Zach clutched Rob's side as the two men drew to a stop in the middle of their rapper pad. Maybe this place had defenses I didn't know about, like invisible barbed wire or electrified floors. Maybe Rob thought he was invincible in this strange little hidey hole he'd constructed with Zach in the shadow of the casinos.

  "Some things are worth the risk," Rob said mysteriously. He looked down at Zach and hugged him tightly. "When I originally sent Jeremiah to 'acquire' the ball, I wanted to use it for purely selfish reasons: I wanted to see if I made it into a big showroom at Bellagio or Wynn in the future. Now, I couldn’t care less about my career. I want the scrying ball only so I can see how much time he has left."

  My heart stopped. I looked from Rob to Zach, who wouldn't meet my eyes. "What are you talking about?"

  "I'm sick," Zach murmured, pressing his face to Rob's shoulder. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Anne. I thought you wouldn't want to know."

  "What? Why would you think that?" I was hurt.

  "Because it's terminal," Rob elaborated. "Not everyone wants to deal with that. Especially people like us, who are used to being special."

  Special, because we had magick that could protect us. Special, because some of us had extended lifespans, like Vale. Mortality was something we magickal beings dwelled on less frequently than ordinary humans because it seemed so far away and unlikely. In that, Rob had a point. When death finally did come for us, we didn't accept it as the natural course of life. It felt like betrayal.

  Rob's smile was brittle, as if he'd used it too often and it had worn thin in places and was about to crack. No matter our history, I couldn't have disliked a person who wore that smile.

  "So you see, Anne, there is no such thing as too great a danger. We're already facing the worst."

  My friends were outside on the landing. They wanted to discuss what we'd learned and draw up a game plan. I shared their urgency, but some things needed to be said.

  "I'm sorry," I said softly to Zach and Rob. "My Big Z…All your music. You've got so much talent..." In the face of this illness suddenly Zach's music was good. It was amazing. It was genius. Because soon, it would all be a memory. "I'm sorry that this is happening to you. I don't want it to."

  I cleared my throat when it grew tight. I didn't deal well with death, or with people leaving me for any reason. "Has Abandonment Issues" was stamped on my forehead in invisible ink. You'd think it would make me reluctant to form attachments, but somehow I needed them even more, as if by growing a network of relationships I could somehow insulate myself from loss. All these friends were supposed to be my barrier against pain. But it wasn't turning out that way.

  "It's okay," Zach said with a crooked, wan smile. "I'm getting used to the idea. And we've got some time."

  Though they didn't know how much. That was one thing I could do for them since I couldn’t do anything else.

  I said to Rob, "I'll get you your scrying ball. I won't leave Dearborn's without it. I promise you."

  "I believe you, Anne." He held out his hand. We shook. "For all our differences—I don't want to receive any more packages in the mail," he said, looking a little green. "Be careful."

  I swallowed hard. "Don't worry. It'll be fine."

  ~~~~~

  Melanie made a quick stop at an all-night taco stand before taking us back to Moonlight. The pungent smells of cumin, vinegar and chili filled the small shop as we ate and considered all that we'd learned.

  Correction: Melanie and Vale ate while I chewed desultorily on a small mouthful. I didn't feel excited about what was to come. There would be no victory at the end of this. Learning of Zach's illness had put a damper on any anticipation I felt about avenging my parents. They were gone. Nothing could be done for them. Zach, however, was still alive.

  But for how much longer? That scrying ball could help him and Rob plan for and enjoy their last days together. It wasn't an option. It was necessary.

  "Tell me what you're thinking, Moody."

  Vale had finished his last taco. He now stood near the windows, arms crossed over his chest. The streetlamps cast a golden glow over one side of his face. On it I read sympathy and concern.

  "I'm upset about Zach," I said slowly, feeling my way, "and I feel now that even if I hadn't made the deal, I have no choice but to get the ball for him and Rob. No matter how dangerous it might be," I added, referring to the fate of my friend Jeremiah, who'd been shipped to Rob in pieces.

  "How good of a warlock was Jeremiah, in your opinion? Would he have stood a decent chance?"

  "Against what?" I asked him with a mirthless laugh. "We know next to nothing about what Dearborn has set up at his home."

  "He's bad," Melanie said around a mouthful of fried fish. "He makes curses and golems. He may have killed your parents! I think that's enough, Anne. That's more than enough!"

  "All true," I agreed, feeling depressed. Hot sauce was burning a hole through my stomach. Or maybe it was stress. "Jeremiah wasn't a close friend. I didn't even know he moonlighted as a cat burglar. I'm trying to picture him in skintight Lycra…" I snapped back into focus when Vale emitted a low growl. "But I do know he was a decent enough warlock. And he was smart. When he was ten, he charged his friends to do their homework with his magick. That lasted about a week before the Oddsmakers cracked down on him but it shows you how advanced he was. It wouldn't have been easy to catch him by surprise, I don't think."

  "Then I say don't do this."

  It wasn't what I expected him to say. "Vale, there's no way I'm not doing this."

  He left the window and came to me. He held my hand in his while wearing an expression of unnerving solemnity. "This is something that can wait. We don't yet know what the Oddsmakers' mission is. What if we find out it's something else altogether, and you've risked your life for nothing?"

  "It won't be for nothing," I insisted, struggling not to give in to anger. "It'll be for Zach and Rob."

  "And if you die or seriously hurt yourself?" he challenged me just as sharply. "What's more important in the scheme of things? Protecting the world from Vagasso, or retrieving a crystal ball for someone who's already doomed?"

  I wanted to yell at him for being heartless.

  Except that he was right. Something big like Vagasso would always be about the greatest impact: how many lives I could save versus how many I was willing to lose. Previous to tonight, I would have said firmly that no one was going to be lost on my watch. But clearly there were going to be deaths beyond my control, deaths that weren't even my fault, but which would hurt me all the same.

  "I don't want to be telling you this, Moody." Vale's fingers tightened around mine. "But I'm willing to be the bad guy if that's who you need me to be."

  Melanie was staring while trying not to stare, but I had eyes only for Vale.

  "No," I told him, releasing a tremulous breath, "you're not the bad guy. You're right, and I have to face the truth. Zach and Rob aren't my obligation. If I hadn't come along, nothing would have changed for them. But even though this might not be the Oddsmakers' mission, I'm willing to gamble that it is. It has nothing to do with Zach and Rob. Well, not enough to matter. I'm doing this because everything falls into place. My parents tracked this artifact until the chase killed them. It has significance. There's some kind of motive here."

  Vale released my hand. My skin felt chilled without him. He didn't appear angry, but he was definitely unhappy.

  "Tell me you're sure."

  I nodded. "I'm sure. I have to go after Dearborn." I looked to Melanie. "But you're not coming with me. I don't care what you say."

  "Anne!"

  "This is beyond you, Melly, and you know it. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if you got hurt."

  "How do you think I'd feel if you got hurt?" she shot back.

  "Nope. Not changing my mind. You're staying here."

  "You're not going alone," Vale said firmly. "Dearborn's defenses will be weake
r against two of us."

  Tension released in my chest. "We'll find out. Thanks."

  The way he stared at me, all broody and protective, made me wonder if Melanie would be put out if I kicked her out of the shop right then. Vale did angry and intense the way male models did them. I couldn't pretend I was strong enough to resist that.

  "We'll do more research of the Nirvana towers," I said, trying to keep things G-rated while Melanie was here. "Make some plan of attack. Hopefully we'll learn Dearborn's schedule. I'd prefer to hit his place while he's away."

  "Please tell me before you go," Melanie begged, her dark eyes shiny with moisture. "I hate this. I don't want you coming back mailed Priority Flat Rate, Anne!"

  "It'll be okay, monkey," I chided, but I hugged her as hard as she hugged me. "I've got Lucky and this hunky gargoyle. That's three against one."

  She wiped her eyes. I adored her. Though I'd begun this adventure with my parents in mind, I was being reminded through Zach and Melanie that it was the family I had with me now that mattered most. My friends were the most important people in the world.

  "You're driving the truck tomorrow?" I asked her.

  She nodded reluctantly. "I'd rather spend the day with you, though. People don't need sweets that bad. It makes them fat."

  "Nothing wrong with more cushion for the pushing," I pointed out. "Go on home, Melly. Get some sleep. I know you're tired."

  She whined and complained, but ultimately she left, knowing that I was right. I was sorry to see her go, but unlike me she still had a family, and family—born of blood or friendship—had to come first.

  "May I stay here tonight?"

  I looked up at Vale. He wasn't trying to seduce me with bedroom eyes. He merely stood in my shop, as still and solid as a monolith at Stonehenge. I didn't know how old he really was, but I sensed enough of his ancientness to be drawn to that experience. He'd probably been through a lot. Things I'd never know for myself. In a magickal battle he could prove invaluable, and I was counting on him to handle whatever Dearborn had in store for us that I couldn't.