by C. I. Black
“I wouldn’t lose everything, and we wouldn’t have to euthanize all the subjects.” Relief flashed across Dinah’s face before she schooled her features back to stern superiority. “We still need to get Rebecca Scott back and put Werner Scholtz down.”
Ivette raised an eyebrow. That kind of bloodthirstiness wasn’t like Dinah at all.
“All the unnaturals are mentally unstable. We’ve known that for hundreds of years now,” Dinah said. “Even if Scholtz hasn’t been demonstrating the same degree of insanity as previous subjects, his power has only grown in strength since we detained him and that was only two days ago. He’s a danger to society.”
And she must have had a thing for one of the guys he’d killed.
“Killing Scholtz won’t help us,” Stanbury said. Dinah might share the leadership of the facility, but she wasn’t the brains behind the operation. She possessed the medical education and scientific curiosity to further the facility’s knowledge about dragons and unnaturals, but she couldn’t envision a master plan nor set one into motion. That was Ivette’s job.
Like her father and mother, and theirs before them for generations, she — and Dinah as well — had been born into a select class of humans who knew the truth about the universe and possessed its true power. And like the generations before, she had been told of the terror of the Asar Nergal, the dragon death squad.
Her ancestors had tried to destroy the ferocious beasts but had only managed to force the creatures into hiding in humans, and for generations they had worked to finish the job. Having a direct link to the dugga’s communication would be a major success, something her association hadn’t seen in centuries. Captured members of the Asar Nergal or any dragon would be a feather in her career cap, and while killing the dugga was believed to be the ultimate goal by many of her peers, that wouldn’t solve the main problem. Ivette had confirmed from multiple sources over the years that the dugga was a position with power, not a dragon. Killing the dugga would alert the dragons’ sorcerer, and another dragon would be given the power.
But take the dugga’s magic, and Ivette was willing to bet the dragon sorcerer wouldn’t notice. She’d researched imbued spells for most of her adult life. The magic was always linked to the bearer’s life force, but not the bearer’s essence. One life force worked the same as another. Once she took the dugga’s power, she’d have a telepathic link to every member of the Asar Nergal. She could find and kill them all.
But to do that, she needed Rebecca Scott to lead her to the dugga.
“How does not apprehending Werner and keeping him alive help us?” Dinah asked.
“Scott’s tracker has gone dead. His hasn’t. He risked recapture to help her escape, and she hesitated to leave him behind. If the dugga doesn’t kill her, she’s going to contact Scholtz. And when she does, we can grab her and then the dugga.”
17
Tobias sat on a stone bench at the mouth of the royal archives. No matter what he yearned for, he didn’t have time to wander the massive maze of papers and books containing the history and activities of the Dragon Court since the Handmaiden had created it— Okay, maybe it didn’t hold the entire history and activities. The previous chamberlain hadn’t been as fastidious as Tobias about recordkeeping, probably because the paperwork hadn’t been his hoard. But for Tobias, this was his hoard, even if he knew it wasn’t actually his.
Yes, he journaled every day and kept those pages in a vault in his suite, and that was his real hoard, but the records from the Chamberlain’s Office had somehow become an extension of his collection. It didn’t matter that they weren’t really his. His impulse to collect records, keep a history, surround himself with truths, facts, and minute details, made him crave them. He’d been chamberlain for over eight hundred years, had handled millions of records and reports during his tenure, and he had no intention of stepping down. They were his.
The problem, however, lay with his intention of remaining Court Chamberlain. It was becoming increasingly dangerous to stay in the Royal Coterie’s employ, and that included danger — perhaps the biggest danger — from his doyen, Prince Regis.
“Thinking that again?” Ophelia eased from the shadows of the farthest passage, one of five connecting this modest entrance, with its three simple benches, to the maze beyond. With her dark skin, hair, and clothes, she could have been standing in that shadow for as long as he’d been sitting on the bench and he wouldn’t have noticed her. She’d even confessed that she possessed the ability to mute her aura, making her harder to detect and appear younger and weaker — not that he could see auras and prove her claim. But no doubt that kind of ability gave her an advantage in her position as head of Internal Inspection.
She sat on the bench opposite him and met his gaze, a hint of a challenge in her eyes, but not the kind that said she wanted his job… or him. “If you leave, the rest of us will be in danger.”
And while his second-in-command could manage the day-to-day business of running Court — finances, food, maintenance, etc — he had no experience with Tobias’s responsibilities with maintaining dragon security — liaising with all the doyens and their heads of coterie security, handling disputes, arranging replacement vessels and new identities, as well as top-level dragon security. No other dragon was capable of handling the chamberlain’s responsibilities, and the Dragon Court would fall into disarray if he left without preparing a successor.
Except Court was already in disarray, and there wasn’t anything he could do to fix it. Even sitting near his unofficial hoard wasn’t helping to ease his worry or inspire a solution.
“I doubt you’ll be in danger,” he said.
“No one really likes to think about Internal Investigations.” She offered a half shrug. “I’m sure I’ll be the last to be noticed. No, I was thinking about Vessel Appropriations, Security, Maintenance, that new secretary… what is his name?”
“Xiphos.” A young yellow drake who’d recently changed allegiance to the royal coterie from the Minor Yellow in hopes of advancing his position in Court. Too bad he’d made the switch a mere fifty years before things started going south.
“What about your Clean Teams? Capri won’t be able to keep her change of allegiance a secret forever.”
“Capri hasn’t changed coteries.” Although he’d been suspecting she had for a few weeks now. He just didn’t know who her new doyen was or why the change.
Ophelia cocked an eyebrow, reminding him with one simple action that it was foolish to deny anything to a drake who could always, whether she wanted to or not, hear peoples’ thoughts.
“Has she thrown in with Hunter?” If Hunter raised his banner as doyen of a new coterie, that might solve all of Tobias’s problems. He didn’t need Ophelia’s reports to guess that dragons of all colors would leave their coteries to support the only dragon able to take dragon form. Only the Traditionalists would stand against him because of his human sorcerer inamorata.
“Hunter will never proclaim himself a doyen and take the throne.”
“A dragon can hope, can’t he?” He’d liked working with Hunter, even if the red drake had been terse with all his reports and paperwork. As prince’s assassin, he’d gotten the job done with as little fuss as possible and hadn’t gotten involved in politics — which, with the enormous power of the rebirth medallion in his possession, he could have. It had only been recently that Hunter had created problems, and even then, he’d been in reaction to Zenobia’s attempt to oust Regis.
“Hoping Hunter will change his color won’t solve the immediate problem.” Ophelia sat forward. “I’ve searched all of Court. There’s nothing to indicate what happened to King Constantine and no one’s thinking about having disposed of his body.”
“And you’re still getting mixed messages from Regis?” Last time they’d talked, Ophelia hadn’t been able to tell if Regis had murdered his father or had just wanted to.
“I still can’t confirm anything from Regis. His thoughts are getting worse. His soul sickness is
progressing faster than his father’s.”
“I’d hoped we’d have more time.” Tobias slid his gaze to the aisle behind Ophelia. “More time to convince Hunter to step up, and get at least one Traditionalist to change his mind about him and add in support.”
“After Zenobia’s coup, getting any Traditionalist to change his or her mind in the next hundred or so years about a human sorcerer, even if she’s somehow inamorated to a dragon, is going to be tough.” Ophelia rubbed her temples. “We don’t have that kind of time.”
“I know.” Mother, he needed to come up with a solution fast or more dragon souls would be forever lost to the universal ether. “Pike’s report about the Major Green Coterie might have indicated everything is under control, but even I can see factions forming in his membership. If he doesn’t step up and regain control, or step down and give leadership to a stronger drake, fighting will begin.”
“It already has.”
“Shit. Why haven’t I been told about this?”
“Pike’s coterie security got to the scene of the assassination and cleaned up before anyone noticed. The Asian Clean Team wasn’t notified. What I can garner from Pike’s Second is that five green drakes who were suspected of starting a faction against Pike were murdered.”
“Just great.” Not only was his prince torturing dragons indiscriminately, doyens were murdering their own coterie members in their determination to maintain control.
“It gets better. I’m hearing whispers that members of the Sect of the Divine Mother are planning something, but so far I don’t know any of the specifics.”
“Wonderful. We need more information on that. If drakes are angry now, they’re going to get furious when Regis starts enforcing his decree that all dragons return to Court. I’ve been instructed to assemble a retrieval squad, using the most powerful dragons from royal security, and have been given authority to use any force necessary, even if that means losing dragon souls.”
Ophelia swore. “We can’t wait for the Handmaiden’s return. We’re going to have to do something, pick someone, and force them to take the throne.”
Mother of All, why had she left? Except what his soul really wanted the answer to was why she’d left him? He’d thought— No, it had merely been a hope that they’d been friends. He had no proof either way.
If he was honest with himself, he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen the real Handmaiden, even when he’d stopped by her chambers to fill her in on the happenings at Court and she’d invited him in for tea. Perhaps all he’d ever seen was a slightly softer version of the mask she wore in public.
Sure, he believed she didn’t invite many dragons into her inner chambers, but that didn’t mean his invitation had meant something different or that his information about her habits were correct. What did he really know about her? Clearly not enough, since he had no idea she’d planned to leave.
“And now you’re thinking that,” Ophelia said, the concern in her gaze belying the boredom of her tone.
“Well, I’m pissed.”
“Doesn’t sound like it to me.”
“You’re not listening right. She had to have known Regis was soul sick. She has a full sorcerer’s power and can cast an auger spell.” Maybe if he focused on being abandoned, that would ignite his missing fury. He wasn’t some child abandoned by a parent. He was an ancient black dragon. He’d seen things, done things. A colleague leaving without notice when the situation was about to become dire shouldn’t make him worried. It should make him furious.
Ophelia pursed her lips.
“Yeah, I know,” he said. “That’s the root of the problem.”
“You’re not furious at her.”
“I’m scared for her.”
“She’s disappeared before. When Regis took the throne from Constantine.”
“There was a clear line of succession. The kind of upheaval happening then is nothing to what we’re facing now. And knowing what we went through with her absence during that, I doubt she’d willingly leave now.” There had to be a good reason for the Handmaiden to just up and leave, and if she was in trouble, then who ruled the dragon throne was insignificant to what was coming. With Grey and Ivy having recovered the rebirth coin and Hunter inamorated to a full sorcerer likely able to cast the rebirth spell, dragonkind might be able to survive without the Handmaiden, but it wouldn’t be easy, and many drakes would rebel.
“She’ll come back.”
“Mother, I hope so.” And it was his job to hold it all together until she did… if he didn’t get caught in the political crossfire.
18
Nero changed into dry clothes and paced his bedroom, furious at his lack of control, at the Handmaiden for not being around to fix his dugga’s magic — because he wouldn’t be feeling this way if his magic was under control — and at fate, on the slim chance he really was inamorated.
Whatever the situation, he had more important things to worry about. And as much as he knew keeping his distance from Becca was the best solution to his situation, he needed information about the dragon who ran the facility who’d been holding her prisoner.
He gated into the transition suites’ kitchenette, determined to keep his focus. The warm, comforting smell of the creamy chicken and pasta casserole heating in the oven made his stomach growl, reminding him that, even if he did have reasonably fast healing, he still got hungry and he hadn’t eaten in a day. Because Becca had hijacked his dugga’s magic. Mother, this was such a mess.
Raven stepped out of Becca’s room, glanced into the other room where the new intake lay, then glared at him. “I don’t know what you said to her, but that’s got to stop if she has any chance of conquering the soul sickness.”
“I asked her about her injuries.”
Raven frowned and strode toward him. “More than the cut Diablo had given her?”
“Cracked ribs and a broken collarbone.”
“She didn’t look physically hurt when I talked with her.”
“That’s the problem.” And it was more proof toward the truthful reality, which Becca’s mind just couldn’t handle. Mother, she was going to go insane and take him down with her, and he couldn’t even order her death to save himself. Even the idea whirled in his mind and made his stomach roil. “If she’s a sorcerer—”
“Her mental state is even more tenuous. I’ve changed my mind,” Raven said. “You can’t be here.”
“I have to be here.” To protect her—
No, God damn it, to get necessary information.
“You endanger the very tentative balance I’ve managed to create in her mind.” She crouched before the oven and gazed inside. Had she just admitted to having an earth magic that helped her deal with human mages? She was a young drake. She might not have even realized until recently that she possessed the power, until she’d been faced with all of Zenobia’s soul-sick mages. “Did you really try to kill her?”
“She endangers the puzur,” he growled. Even if Becca did conquer her soul sickness and join the puzur, she still endangered everyone he cared about. If the wrong dragon got his hands on her, she could be used to expose his secrets. If the wrong dragon had her, Nero would sacrifice everything to protect her. Killing her would never be an option, which left him with removing himself from the puzur — and in effect giving up his hoard — as well as leaving his coterie and the Asar Nergal.
“So why didn’t you?” Raven asked, her gaze still locked inside the oven. She’d encountered unnaturally created mages before and knew the most likely outcome. Since she’d joined the puzur, she’d dealt with over a dozen and had only managed to save two. But in the last three weeks, there’d been dozens more, and she hadn’t been able to save any of them.
What Zenobia had done to those humans was more than just a dragon desperately needing to transfer into a vessel and ending up in one already occupied. No, for the last hundred years, Zenobia had stolen people, mostly homeless soldiers already struggling with psychological conditions from their combat experiences
. The dragons who’d been assigned to awaken the humans’ soul magic hadn’t tried to hide their presence. They’d barged in, taken over, and clawed at the humans’ mental essence — until magic was awakened, they’d gone crazy, or the dragon had given up and moved on to another victim.
There was nothing delicate or discreet about their actions, and what made it worse, those taken at the beginning of Zenobia’s plan and who’d managed to escape discovered themselves decades ahead in time. The dragon souls in their bodies had slowed their aging and extended their lives, but also made them lose sense of the time when they’d been trapped in their own heads.
God, Becca could be dealing with that, too. Sure, he knew she was a soldier, but he didn’t know much of anything else about her. How many years had she lost? There’d been that horrible event in Afghanistan. How long ago had that happened? Had that forced her into a life of living on the streets?
“Why didn’t you kill her?” Raven asked again.
He jerked his attention back to her, his gaze having dropped to the floor. He had no good answer. And no way in hell was he telling her the truth, because that wasn’t the truth. He wasn’t inamorated, and soon enough he’d stop craving the feel of her aura against his. “We need to convince her to stay here.”
“And by we, you mean me, because you’re leaving before she gets out of the shower.”
“No. I need information from her. She’s the leak in the Asar Nergal. Her telepathy connected to my dugga’s magic, and she’s been eavesdropping on all my orders.”
“She’s the one who’s been passing that information to the other mages? No wonder the last handful have been so hard to apprehend.” Raven grabbed the oven mitts, opened the oven, and pulled out the casserole. “But that would mean she knew who you were.”
“She didn’t know who, but certainly what. Zenobia’s drakes didn’t care if their vessels were soul sick. One of her drakes had the earth magic ability to control their minds, so I doubt they tried to hide their essence or knowledge from their victims.”