Dragon Knight (Reclaiming the Fire Book 2)

by Alicia Wolfe

  “Why don’t you know?” I asked Gavin. Dread curdled in my gut at what his answer might be.

  He sucked a hit off his cigarette, then blew the smoke at me. “Word is you’ve been working with the Fae,” he said. “That you’re … helping them now.” Again, his golden eyes flicked to Davril, and he appraised the Fae Knight coldly. “Say it ain’t so, J-Mic.”

  I put some bite into my voice. “Fuck you, Gavin Fuck-Face. I would never work with the fucking Fae. Those self-righteous assholes? Fuck them. I wouldn’t work with the lot of them if they were glued to my ass.”

  Davril regarded me with an unreadable expression, and I tried not to look at him. I watched Gavin instead, hoping my words had the right impact.

  He stared at the glowing tip of his cigarette. “I don’t know, Jade. You haven’t stolen anything in months, and these rumors about the Fae … and now you show up here with your … friend … your very blond, handsome friend … to ask about a witch up to no good. A witch who, I happen to know, is an enemy of the Fae.”

  I stiffened. “So you do know her. Tell me, Gavin. What’s she up to?”

  He leaned back. “I don’t talk to narcs, Jade.”

  “I’m not a narc, damn you.”

  “Prove it.”

  I frowned. “Okay, uh, yeah, sure.” Nervously, I added, “How?”

  Gavin shrugged extravagantly. “The Fae Lords hate the fighting pits. They’re trying to shut them all down. A Fae Knight would never allow you to participate in the games. Especially a potentially deadly game.” He grinned at me, a predator about to pounce on his prey. “So why don’t you jump in that pit and take on the next contender?”

  Chapter 3

  I stared at Gavin. “You want me to fight?”

  Gavin blew another cloud of smoke at my face. “I want you to be you, Jade, not some narc. And the only way you can prove that to me is by fighting.”

  “If I’m me being me, then I’m a thief, not a fighter.”

  “You do plenty of both, the way I hear it.”

  “This is insane,” Davril said, and part of me rejoiced at the protectiveness I heard in his tone. “She’s not doing any such thing.”

  “It’s a free country,” Gavin said. “But the information I have isn’t free. And I’ve already told you the cost. Talk it over if you want. I’ll be here.”

  Davril glared at Gavin, and I could see my partner’s fingers itching to grab the hilt of his sword even more than before. I pulled him off to the side of the stands. With all the noise in the room, I didn’t think even Gavin’s cat-like hearing could pick out our words.

  “I’ve got to do it,” I said.

  “Nonsense.” Davril stared at me in a way that would have made my belly squirm in happiness at any other time. “You could get hurt, Jade. Even killed.”

  “I know. But I have to do this. It’s the only way I can prove myself to Gavin. If you’d allowed me to continue cat-burglaring, maybe this wouldn’t be necessary…”

  “Jade.”

  I sighed. “I know, that was a cheap shot. It’s true, though. Anyway, I have to do this if we want to find Angela and Federico before it’s too late.”

  His jaw bunched in anger—not at me, I knew, but at the situation. I could see him turning the matter over furiously in his mind. Slowly, he said, “There is another way. I could follow Gavin, get him alone, then … interrogate him.”

  “What, with nice words? And you give me grief about not being noble enough to be a knight—sheesh!”

  There was iron in Davril’s voice. “It may be the only way to protect you.”

  I swallowed. Davril was willing to bend his own usually rigid code of honor to keep me safe. That had to mean something, right?

  “The point,” I said, “is to maintain my cover, and doing what you just said would blow that all to hell. No, I’m doing this.”

  I started to brush past him to speak with Gavin again, but Davril grabbed me and turned me around. Startled, I peered up into his face. He didn’t look angry anymore, but his eyes were intense. I expected him to continue trying to get me to reconsider, but, instead, he said, in a very low, gentle voice, “Be careful, Jade.”

  Gulp. “I … will.”

  When I returned to Gavin, he simply said, “You in?”

  “Let’s do this before my better sense takes over.”

  Gavin didn’t make me wait. The body of the hyena shifter, which had become that of a human male in death, was being dragged out and the blood stains mopped up. Surprisingly, the victorious boar shifter was going to stay for the next challenger—me. That was unusual because most combatants only went one bout. But whatever. Maybe it would mean the boar shifter was tired and I would have the edge.

  The crowd cheered as I dropped onto the sand floor of the pit. Some of the hyena shifter’s blood remained, and I felt my gorge rise as a fly landed on one of the puddles. Still, I put on a smile and raised my hands to the crowd. They whooped and shouted. Davril, standing next to Gavin, just frowned.

  I turned to the boar shifter.

  “You want some of this?” I said, gesturing at myself. As I spoke, I shucked off my jacket and flung it up at Davril. Mentally, I winced at the damage this fight would do to my leather pants and top, but maybe I could get Ruby to do a little mending magic on them afterward.

  Or maybe not. She’d kill me if she knew I was doing this.

  The boar grunted and pawed the ground. Blood dripped from his tusks onto the sand, and his piggish eyes glared at me hatefully. I shuddered. Part of me was surprised the boar didn’t shift to shake my hand before the fight, or at least to exchange insults, but if he wanted to play tough, I could, too.

  “You’re goin’ down,” I said, pitching my voice over the sound of the crowd. The bets started to fly.

  The boar snorted, blowing spittle mixed with blood. He was a huge hunk of bacon, maybe over three hundred pounds, covered in bristly black hair, with fresh claw marks on his right flank left by the hyena.

  Gavin grinned and gestured to the announcer, who was striding along the edge of the pit with a megaphone. The announcer shouted, “And now, ladies and gentlemen, prepare yourselves for our next fight, Jade McClaren against the reigning champ Edgar Metzo!”

  The crowd alternately booed and cheered. I made come-hither motions with my hands, whipping them up. I even cupped my hand over one ear and shouted, “I can’t hear you!”

  They cheered louder. I stalked back and forth, smiling and swinging my hips. My blood coursed like fire, and I could feel the adrenaline begin to take hold like it always did when the shit hit the fan.

  “This fight will be a bit unusual,” the announcer went on, still speaking through the megaphone. “Most of our gladiators are shifters, and I’ve been told that Jade is one, too. She won’t be changing forms, however, but relying on her shifter speed and strength just the same.”

  “Let’s get this over with!” I shouted up to Gavin.

  He nodded and made go-faster motions to the announcer, spinning his pointer finger in a wheel.

  Taking the cue, the announcer said, “I hope you’ve placed your bets, friends, because we are ready to begin. First one to yield loses. No holds barred. Ready … three … two … one … go!”

  The boar shifter, Edgar Metzo, lowered his head and charged straight for me. Looking down at the pit from above, the arena had seemed larger, but suddenly, as Metzo rocketed at me, filling my vision, I realized just how small the space was—not much bigger than twenty feet across. I was stuck in a tiny area with a boar that had just killed someone… and who was still dripping his victim’s blood.

  And coming right for me.

  I dodged, dancing aside like a matador at the charge of a bull. My leather pants ripped down my left leg at the movement.

  Metzo almost smashed into the wall face-first. Instead, he turned his body at the last second, striking the wall with his shoulder and rebounding. He was even able to use the bounce to position himself closer to me.

  Sh
it, I thought. I don’t even have a weapon.

  Metzo meant business. If the blood dripping from his tusks didn’t give it away, the hate in his eyes did. He was a creature of rage and fury, of mindless anger and aggression, at least in this form. He must really love these contests. How many others had he killed instead of just forcing to yield? Maybe Davril was right. These fights should be closed down.

  Metzo launched himself at me again. I flipped over his head, feeling my other pant leg rip. Damn it all, I should have worn my gym clothes.

  I landed hard, going into a crouch with one hand pressed to the floor. Superhero pose time. If only I had my spellgredients, I thought. I could magic my way out of this. Then again, that was probably against the rules.

  As Metzo wheeled about for another pass, I noted that it wasn’t just blood that dripped from his tusks. There was something else … some clear fluid…

  Metzo grunted loudly, then blasted straight at me.

  I leapt at the wall, rebounded on one leg, then drove the other into his flank, right into the scratches left by the hyena shifter. Metzo squealed and shied away.

  “Take that!” I said, landing and tossing my hair out of my face. Droplets of sweat flew.

  The crowd roared. I glanced up to see Davril clearly holding himself back. He still stood next to Gavin, but it was obvious he wanted to jump into the pit and help me. Metzo was shaking his head and turning back toward me. Again, I noted the clear fluid dripping from his tusks. What was that stuff? It wasn’t snot. Did swine have some weird clear fluid I didn’t know about?

  If not…

  My blood ran cold.

  If not, then the fluid was poison.

  Metzo pawed the ground, sending up a cloud of dust. His piggish eyes glared at me in purest hate. Right then, I knew. That was poison on his tusks. That was how he’d defeated the hyena. That was why he hadn’t shaken hands with me. If he’d shifted, he might have lost the poison.

  And if his tusks penetrated my skin…

  “Shit,” I said.

  Metzo charged.

  I jumped to the side, again using my feet to propel myself off the wall and right back at him. I punched him in his huge jaw. He veered off, hitting the wall with his face this time. I landed in a roll and came up near him. I meant to punch him in the face again, maybe knock him out, but definitely get him to show his belly and surrender before he could gore me.

  Instead my feet slipped under me just as I neared him. Looking down, I saw that I’d stepped in a puddle of blood, and it had thrown me off. Before I could steady myself, Metzo swung toward me, tossing his ugly head. His tusks ripped straight toward my belly.

  I spun away, but too slow. Pain flared along my ribs, and I felt the warm flow of blood.

  I landed in a crouch. Touching my side, I drew away blood … and something else. That clear fluid had gotten into me.

  “Damn it.”

  The injury itself was just a surface wound. Shifters healed quick, so I didn’t need to worry too much about that. But the fluid? The poison?

  That was a different story.

  Victory glimmered in Metzo’s piggish eyes as he turned back to me. He knew he’d gotten me, the bastard. Even as I coiled myself to evade his next pass, I could feel the poison begin to course through my veins. It burned. Strength fled my limbs, and I had to blink to fight away a sudden sleepiness.

  That shit worked fast. It was going to make me slow and awkward. That was probably how the hyena shifter had lost. The poison had slowed it down, and then Metzo killed it when it was weak.

  The crowd still cheered, not seeming to have noticed anything amiss. Davril studied me intently, concern written plainly on his face. Gavin wore a small smile. Was he in on this, too, or was he just smiling because he thought I’d lose and he wouldn’t have to pay up?

  I didn’t have time to think on it for long. Metzo let out a terrible grunt and barreled toward me, tusks lowered to impale me.

  I sprang forward, landing on his broad, shovel-like head. You don’t get to be a cat burglar if you’re not nimble. I’d planned to drop down, straddle his back, and pummel him with my fists until he submitted, but the poison made me woozy, and instead I gave a strangled choke, wobbled drunkenly, and fell to the side.

  The sand floor smacked me in the face. Vaguely, I was aware of the roar of the crowd and of Metzo circling around, then closing in for the kill. Blood, some of it my own, dripped from his tusks.

  I tried to pick myself up, but I’d lost all my strength. Even my vision was fading. The world wheeled around me, growing dimmer and dimmer with every passing moment.

  I opened my mouth to shout, “Yield!” but only a croak came out.

  Metzo loomed over me. This is it, I thought. This is really it. The story of Jade McClaren, cat burglar and dragon shifter, Knight of the Fae Court and someday avenger of my father and grandmother, ends right now. Ruby’s face floated before me, then rippled out.

  Davril’s face replaced hers. His, however, looked less dream-like.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, crouching over me.

  I tried to lift a hand to touch his cheek, but my hand fell away. Davril had raised a palm to Metzo, belaying his final assault.

  Gavin rose from his seat. Dimly, I made out some guys with guns ringing the pit above—Gavin’s goons. And they didn’t seem to appreciate Davril interfering in the fight. I knew this since their guns had been tucked away before.

  “Does she yield?” Gavin called.

  Davril started to open his mouth to reply, but, using all the strength I could muster, I gripped his free hand tightly, or at least as tightly as I could manage. He turned back to me.

  “Poison,” I gasped.

  Worry shone in his eyes. His head snapped up to glare at Metzo, and rage boiled off him like heat off a furnace. It doubled when his gaze took in the fluid coating the boar’s tusks. Metzo even took a step back at the furious expression on Davril’s face.

  “This fight was rigged!” Davril said, and the crowd fell silent.

  Cradling me in his arms, Davril stood. Feebly, I threw an arm around his neck. He smelled like sandalwood and clean sweat, and he was hot against me.

  “My fights are never rigged,” Gavin said.

  “Then why is there poison on that creature’s tusks?”

  “There is no such thing.”

  Murmurs rose from the crowd, and I heard someone say, “Could it be true?”

  Before anyone could analyze his tusks, Metzo changed shape, becoming human once more. Now he was a surprisingly thin, fit guy in his thirties, completely naked. Someone threw him a pair of jogging pants and he slipped them on.

  “I would never cheat,” he said.

  “There,” Gavin said, as if that settled it.

  It didn’t, though. The murmuring of the crowd grew angrier.

  “This fight was rigged,” Davril insisted. “She was winning, so Metzo cheated.” His voice hardened. “Now the answer to my next question had better be Yes. Do you have the antidote to the poison? Don’t say no. Someone had to apply that stuff to his tusks.”

  “It wasn’t me,” Gavin said. He glanced uneasily at the crowd around him, then repeated, “I would never rig a fight.”

  “And I’d never participate in a rigged fight,” Metzo said.

  “I think we’re done here,” Gavin told Davril. “Take your woman and go.”

  I dredged up my last reserves of strength. “Angela…”

  Davril nodded. “What about Mistress Angela?” he demanded of Gavin. “You promised answers.”

  Gavin paled. Clearly, he didn’t like having this shouted before the crowd. I wanted to rebuke Davril, but I was too bleary. I’d meant for him to get Gavin alone before asking that.

  “I have no answers to give,” Gavin said, then swept his gaze across the crowd. Raising his voice, as if afraid Angela might have some sympathizers or acolytes here, he repeated, “I don’t know anything about that.”

  Davril narrowed his eyes. “I’d g
et the answers out of you the hard way, but I don’t have time.”

  Coiling his legs, he jumped, and I was amazed to be flying through the air. Man, he had strong legs. He landed solidly, and the crowd drew back around us. Suddenly, Gavin stood before us with armed goons to either side.

  “You move like a Fae,” he told Davril, and he didn’t bother to mask the accusing note in his voice.

  I would’ve pointed out that some shifters could have done what Davril had, but I was too weak. Besides, Gavin already knew that. But his suspicions had been riled up and now the burden was on Davril to disprove them.

  “Is that a crime?” Davril said.

  Gavin blinked. He evidently hadn’t been expecting that. His gaze darted to me. “So you are working with the Fae Knights, Jade.”

  Shit. I opened my mouth to speak, but couldn’t. Davril started to reply, and I just knew he was going to say the wrong thing, so I forced out the words, “Not … knight. Just … Fae. Boyfriend…”

  Davril raised his eyebrows, and I marveled at how close his face was to mine. How close his lips were. I was pressed against his broad, hard chest, and he carried me as if I were weightless, but my words evidently had some substance.

  “That’s right,” he said. “We’re … together.”

  Gavin didn’t look convinced. “A Fae and a thief, lovers? I doubt that.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Get out of my way. I’ll be back for those answers.”

  Gavin started to protest, but then he took another look at Davril. “Fine. We’re done here. But you’d better be prepared to take back your false claims. And if any Fae Knights come sniffing around here meaning to shut me down, or if they go after Metzo, I’ll know you two are liars.” He didn’t have to add that I’d be persona non grata around his establishment if that happened, and that he’d spread the word throughout the criminal underworld, too.

  “Out of my way,” Davril said again, only he didn’t just say it—he growled it.