City of Dragons: Blood Bonds

by Adrienne Wilder

  Chapter 17

  An ambulance sitting in front of the CFKR was not what Haley would consider a good start to the day. She parked Garrett’s sedan in the front, and went in the main entrance.

  She passed a team of EMS workers in the lobby and waded into a group of cops, all of whom had their side arms drawn and were looking down the hall as if the devil himself was about to come stomping up the nap carpet.

  “What’s going on?” It seemed like a perfectly logical question until Taylor grabbed her arm and shoved her back towards the door.

  “Get back! The last thing we need is another one of you down there!”

  “What the hell?”

  “Fuck you!” That from Manuel. She didn’t know either of them very well because she only saw them when they walked suspects back and forth for questioning. One thing for sure, they were throwing off a whole lot of I-wanna-put-a-cap-in-your-ass.

  The front doors burst open and two teams of Alchemists in full riot gear went storming down the hall. There was only one reason they called in an Alchemist team. Something had gone bad in the Tank.

  Haley went down the other hall and took the service elevator in the back. She came out into a corridor clogged with Cops facing off with Alchemists. She slipped around the mass of blue and found more of them blocking the doorway to the Tank. They stared down the hall, faces grim.

  “What’s going on?”

  Angry cop eyes gave her some up and down. “Get her out of here.” That from the guy with the blond brush cut. Considering no one did any push and shove, it meant either they really didn’t want her to go, or they were too scared to touch her.

  Haley was betting on scared.

  It was Jenna, the only detective in the bunch, who bothered to answer her. “Your junkie in there has Bauer, McKinney, and Jones holed up in an interrogation room with him.”

  “My junkie?” Haley looked around at all of them. “How the hell did I get pegged with this?”

  “Was asking for you the minute his scaly ass came into the building.” Haley didn’t know him, but his name tag said Tomlin.

  “A lot of Kin ask for me when they come in here. They know I’m the only one that won’t shoot first and ask questions later.” They bowed up on her, voices rising, and juicy curses spilling out of clenched teeth. “Why don’t you get out of my way and let me go down there and see if I can’t stop this before it gets any worse?.”

  “Too late.” John Tate had been on the force for a while and was a few years short of retirement. He didn’t show it, though. Except for a little gray around his temples, he looked like a rookie.

  “Let me go in there.”

  John Tate glared. “What part of ‘too late’ do you not understand?”

  Haley leaned into him. “Well, it looks to me like you have a choice. You can tell your comrades to get out of the way and let the Alchemists have at it, then go in and scrape up any pieces that might be left over, or you can let me go in and try to calm him down.

  Jenna shook her head and her eyes went back through the door where the Alchemists were demanding entry. “He’s been shooting up with something nasty, Haley. I don’t think there’s going to be much we can do but scrape up whatever’s left.”

  “Let me try.” Haley looked at them. “Damn it, what have you got to lose? You don’t even know if any of them are still alive.” They still didn’t get out of the way, but when she went forward they didn’t stop her.

  Half way down the hallway, Haley slowed down from a jog to a cautious crawl. She tilted her head and listened with her dragon hearing. Hearts pounded, breathing came quick, and there was a small whimper ... Human Male.

  A quick glance back up the hall told her the cops had stopped parrying for position with the Alchemists. They were all standing silent, just watching.

  “Creyal?” Haley called. Silence was the only reply.

  The first four doors were empty, pale fluorescents flickering. Haley scented the air and tasted Bauer’s familiar scent. The other two she wasn’t sure of, but one of them was a woman and she was pregnant.

  “Creyal? The boys upstairs said you were looking for me.”

  Haley came to the edge of the door. It was the same one she’d interviewed him in. She peeked through the gap and caught sight of Bauer, sitting in a corner with his head down, arms on his knees. His eyes were closed, his face calm. He looked like a man that’d come to the realization he was going to die and the only thing left to do was wait. The right sleeve of his white button up was crimson, and bits of his flesh and muscle were flapping out of the hole.

  “Creyal? Talk to me please?” She stole another look. The woman was on the floor, curled up beside the overturned table. When she saw Haley, she shook her head and her eyes moved to the wall out of Haley’s line of sight. Her eyes told Haley terrible things were about to happen in that corner. Things that no one ever wanted to see.

  “Creyal, I’m walking in alone. Please don’t do anything that both of us will regret.” Haley stepped inside and understood immediately why they were all freaked out. Creyal no longer looked Human. The partial shift left him with a scaled body, a human shaped torso, a massive Draconian head and hands that were nothing but black gleaming Ginsu knives.

  The third cop lay crumpled and bloody at Creyal’s feet, his side arm beside his mangled arm.

  Creyal’s head swung in her direction. Haley walked up to him, her hands out. He roared and little streams of dust trickled down from cracks in the ceiling. Both the woman cop and Bauer jumped.

  “Shhh.” Haley touched his muzzle, ran her fingers along his jaw and his cheek. Spiny points of horn protruded from the back of his skull.

  He shuddered under her hand. His feather-like scales rustled. Creyal’s silver eyes rolled in the direction of Bauer, then the woman.

  “They’re going to get up and go now, okay?” Creyal clicked and chirped, and his wings rattled. “I’m here now, you don’t need them. Let them go, Creyal. I’m not asking you. I’m telling you.” His eyes rolled back to her. The pupils contracted, turning into slits. Bits of orange blossomed, like drops of paint, in the depths of his irises.

  “Bauer?” Haley didn’t look at him, because she wanted to keep her attention on the feral.

  “Yeah.” He sounded weak.

  “Do you think you can walk out of here?”

  “I’ll dance out if you like.”

  She smiled. “That’s not necessary. Officer?”

  “I can walk,” McKinney said. “What about Jones?”

  Haley pulled Creyal’s head against her. His cheek slid from her hip to her shoulder. He repeated the gesture from the other side.

  “What about Jones? Creyal? Will you let them pull him out of here?”

  Creyal’s taloned hand came down on the man, pinning him.

  Two was better than zero. Haley said, “Jones is staying right now. You two get out.” Bauer got up, staggered, but made it to the door. “Your turn, McKinney.” The woman didn’t move.

  “McKinney!” Bauer’s voice boomed and the woman got her legs going. Haley heard the door shut behind her, and then lock. Bauer was no dummy.

  Creyal roared and lurched to the center of the room. His massive head smashed the door and his claws laid into the metal. He flashed his teeth at Haley and snapped at the air near her face. She didn’t blink.

  Creyal shuddered and thick streams of saliva dripped from his gaping mouth. His tail whipped and smashed against the table, splintering it. He sat back on his haunches, looking weak. The muscles in his thigh danced as he leaned against the wall.

  Haley approached him again and leaned into him, putting her face against his neck. His scales fluttered and his scent rose. It wasn’t right.

  She petted him, a slow up and down from his elbow to his neck. “You need to shift back, Creyal. This far changed, they have every right to use deadly force. I’m here now. Let me help you. Talk to me.”

  Joints popped, scales fluttered and a moment later he was leaning against he
r, his knees failing. Haley helped him to the floor and sat with his face cradled against her neck. His vacant stare was dark against his way-too-pale skin. The track marks on his one arm seeped thin lines of green ichor. He wasn’t healing, and that was a very bad sign.

  Haley pushed his hair back out of his face. He’d lost the tie that he used to hold it back, along with every scrap of clothing, which was on the floor in useless shreds. Creyal stared at her with a sadness she didn’t understand. Her thumb traced his brow. He caught her hand and brought her palm to his lips. His tongue rasped her skin.

  “What happened?” It wasn’t drugs doing this to him. Not even synth. This was Alchemy, and it was evil. She knew there were powers that could kill Kin, but whatever this was had no individual scent she could detect. But there was a change in him. Creyal had acquired a sweet, sickly smell that reminded her of rotten things in the ground.

  “I couldn’t stay away.” He lifted his arm. “I was just going to have a little taste. I figured I could find out more info if I did my usual. But they wouldn’t let me leave.” He curled against her. His arm slid over her shoulder, and he tucked his head under her chin. “Something was wrong. It wasn’t the usual kind of set-up. Smelled funny. Then I saw them.”

  Haley stroked his head and back and thrummed in her chest. “Who did you see?”

  “Dead Kin.” Every bone in his Creyal’s body pushed against his skin. He’d changed a lot since Monday. “He was there...”

  “Who?”

  “The cop on the floor.” Creyal’s breathing was shallow. “I’m so tired ... so tired.”

  From the hallway the sound of cop voices and the scent of Alchemist magic drifted in.

  “I’m okay, so please don’t come in here guns blazing,” Haley said. “We’re good. All’s good.”

  The door jerked open, and the Alchemist filed in, their body shields facing her, cutting her off from the other half of the room. Pin guns came up. “He’s not in any shape to hurt anyone now. You can put those down.” She started to stand.

  “Stay down, wyrm!” The voice was male, but she had no idea which one said it. All dressed up in their big, bad, black cookie cutter outfits they looked just alike.

  Haley said, “Hey, guys, any cops out there that might be listening. Please don’t leave me in here with the SWAT team from hell.”

  She was about to call out again when someone yelled, “Stand down.” Bauer came through the door, his arm done up like King Tut, and looking in need of a serious drink.

  “He’s sick,” Haley said, and they all tossed her angry glances. Bauer shook his head and looked at the crumpled cop on the floor. Someone felt for a pulse and then yelled for the EMTs. “Didn’t you hear me? He’s sick.”

  “No one gives a shit about the fucking lizard.” That from one of the Alchemists.

  “Bauer!” Haley said.

  The detective looked at her, dark eyes flashing. “He’s not my priority right now, Haley. As far as I’m concerned, they can take him out back and lop off his head.”

  “He’s sick, Bauer. As in ill. We don’t get diseases.” No one was listening. “For Christ’s sake, Bauer, that son-of-a-bitch on the floor did this to him.”

  The man turned on her and jabbed a finger in her face. “And with any luck he’ll fucking die. He destroyed six lives today. Six good Human lives. None of us will be the same, and Jones probably won’t get to see his kid’s...” Bauer curled his hand into a fist, and made an obvious effort to step away.

  Haley stared at him, feeling detached. He was pissed. They all were. She was Kin, so it was her fault, too. She accepted that. Fine. But that didn’t change things. “You need to call the CDC, Bauer. Kin don’t get sick, remember. That means whatever this is, it’s deadly. Creyal saw other dead Kin. There could be more. If it can kill Kin, it has the potential to kill Humans, too. And that means everyone could wind up like this.” The entire room came to a standstill.

  Bauer pulled out his phone and dialed.

  Chapter 18

  It was on the bus that Farley got nervous and a thin sheen of sweat broke out across the back of his neck. Over the driver’s seat was an advertisement that read “It’s SMARTA to ride MARTA.”

  No, he would have been SMARTA to take a cab. Now he was stuck inside this rolling cookie jar, smelling people and waiting for the Hunger to show up like a bad penny.

  After the longest fifteen minutes of his life.

  When Farley could see the Wall he stood up and pulled the cord. A bell tolled and the bus slowed. He got off and headed across the street and down an alley. His combat boots thumped on the pavement and the chains on his skater pants jingled.

  It was cold today, and his Godsmack shirt didn’t offer very much protection.

  Correction, Haley’s Godsmack shirt.

  It was black and matched the pants, so he’d borrowed it. She’d given him the stink eye when he’d pulled it out of her drawer, but it was either that or her pink flowered one, and he really didn’t feel like getting the shit kicked out of him today.

  Farley tucked his hands under his arms, and wished he’d kept a spare jacket at her place. Other than the few stray pieces of clothing, everything there was hers. But that was going to have to change, wasn’t it?

  Yes, it was.

  It took a lot of will power to get himself out of that building and on the bus. And it wasn’t because he was afraid of any cravings popping up. Leaving Haley alone was just a bad idea. Every metaphysical energy point in his body said so.

  He passed under a causeway and trotted along the edge of the concrete spillway that funneled excess rain water into the creeks. This was a bad part of the Gray Zone and Farley knew it. Usually he stayed near the Pit, Casey’s, or the line of restaurants where a lot of the shippers hung out. The truck yard on the north end was another reasonably safe place.

  Farley stopped just under the old iron bridge connecting the two sides of the stacked stone fort. It wasn’t really a fort, it just happened to look like one.

  Inside, the building was scarred by a run-in with the Society for Neighborhood Improvement and bore a combination of 1960’s olive tile crossed with a 1990’s face lift. It only went as far as the foyer. When Farley stepped into the hall, he could see why. This place made his little hole in the wall look like the Ritz.

  Honest to God moss was growing on the walls, and a small tree coming up through a crack in the floor had surpassed weed status and was heading into bush frontier. The stairs didn’t look safe in spite of being made out of stone. There were great gaping holes in the railing, big enough to drive a car through.

  Farley headed up the hallway, hoping he was in the right part of the building. He only knew Niles lived in the area because Kin avoided it.

  Eight doors later, and after taking a stairwell into a flooded basement, Farley decided the only direction left was up. So far, he’d only found a family of rats and an old burned out sofa, circa 1970. The room it was in smelled like melting rubber.

  Rock shifted on the steps where the mortar had crumbled and left the flagstone flopping like the sole of a blown out tennis shoe. The long hall at the top was nothing more than a stretch of rotten wood littered with trash and a few shriveled rat skeletons.

  About half-way up, he had a pretty good idea which room was Niles’. It was the only one with a door. When he jiggled the knob it came open.

  Damn thing didn’t even squeak.

  Farley looked inside.

  A flashlight would have been a good idea. The room was dark because the windows had been covered, leaving nothing but a thin orange line where the sun could leak in.

  His vision slid to its natural state and he scanned the room. A desk, a pallet on the floor, a big trunk, and what looked like a radio in the corner was a complete inventory of the three hundred square foot space. Farley stepped inside. The walls fluttered when he moved the door.

  Like they were breathing.

  What the hell?

  Farley reached up and felt scraps of
paper, dimpled with writing and held up with thumb tacks.

  The little sheets were everywhere, floor to ceiling, ceiling to floor. They fluttered whenever he stirred the air. Farley went to the window, felt for the blanket that covered it, and yanked it down. He blinked and waited for the splotches of green and red to fade. When he could finally see, he became rooted to the spot.

  Okay, this is weird.

  Newspaper articles, hand written letters, old maps, and pages from calendars covered every inch of wall space. The different lettering and overall changes in style told him that the collection spanned decades. Farley had never imagined Niles to be the coupon-clipper-stalker type.

  Then there were the photos--lots and lots of photos.

  They were of Haley. Candid shots, taken from a distance. Walking into the CFKR, sitting in the park, parking lot of her building...

  Hopefully, Haley wasn’t going to be right about the Twinkies.

  Farley plucked a newspaper clipping from its place on the wall. It was dated 1938. The article was brief, talking about the official establishment of the CFKR and how the city of Atlanta had set a new trend dealing with the ever-growing concern of Human and Kin existence. Haley was mentioned close to the end, where the current CFKR director felt she could be an asset to the establishment of good relations with the non-Human residents of the city. They were all like that. Either she was mentioned, pictured, or quoted.

  On the desk Farley found a ledger with more names and places, then an article from about ten years ago. Haley wasn’t mentioned in this one, but another Kin was. Farley stared at the photo.

  Frozen in time, with wings half spread, and his blazing blue eyes turned like he was listening to something no one else could hear, was the epitome of Kin acceptance; Justice, the Great White.

  Nothing about him was like other Kin. With his ivory scales and large blue eyes, Justice gave off a gentle unimposing presence. He had no ridges, no horns, no thorny protection or armor. While not all Kin could breathe fire, they usually had some sort of natural defense or offense--such as quills or venom--but Justice had nothing. To top it off, rumor had it he was mute. Defective.