by Shéa MacLeod
Just a hint of a smile played around his mouth. I noted his lips were full and sensual. In human form he was definitely sexy, but he honestly did nothing for me. It wasn’t because he was a dragon, either. Like with Trevor Daly, I could see the sexy but I wasn’t into it.
“Sometimes I find it is the best way to communicate. Little humans are prone to fits of hysteria when faced with such as I.” His voice rose and fell in the odd cadence I remembered from the dream. His speech patterns felt more formal, which I supposed made sense seeing how English wasn’t necessarily his first language. Not modern English, anyway.
“Well, next time could you knock first?”
His smile grew wider and he inclined his head, his eyes slipping back into their human shape. Sandra breathed a sigh of relief. If I were honest, so did I.
“You have something which needs translating?”
“Yeah.” I sat down on the folding chair Sandra had pulled out of gods knew where. I slid the diary out of my pocket and laid it on the desk. “This diary was written by a woman called Alison Jones.”
He nodded and propped a pair of reading glasses on his nose. I gave him a look. “Seriously? You wear glasses?”
He smirked at me. “We all have our weaknesses, little human. Best not to forget it.”
“I never do. Believe me.”
He flipped through the pages of the diary. “This woman, Alison. She was human?”
“Yes, she worked for MI8.”
“Ah, that explains it.”
“Explains what?”
“See, here.” He leaned forward his finger pointed at a symbol in the diary. His scent caught me by surprise. He smelled like a s’more. I loved s’mores.
Thinking of s’mores reminded me of Inigo. Thinking of Inigo got me more than a little hot under the collar. I cleared my throat and squirmed a little in my chair. “Yeah. What about it?”
“It’s very old. We don’t use it anymore except, perhaps, in very formal situations.” He frowned, flipping through the pages. “This isn’t in dragon tongue.”
I gave him a doubtful look. “Come on. Those are dragon symbols. Even I know that.”
“Yes,” he admitted. “They are symbols of the dragon tongue, but this diary is written in English. The dragon symbols are simply a code of sorts.”
“You mean she substituted dragon tongue symbols for English words?”
“More like she used the symbols to represent similar English sounds. Many of the symbols are very old and have fallen out of use in the centuries of our exile beyond the Wall. My guess would be Alison Jones had access to some type of dictionary of symbols most likely stored at MI8. She used it as you might use hieroglyphs or Morse code, to protect her findings.”
He leaned back again. Gods he smelled good. And he was making me hungry. I had the sudden desire to visit Paul’s Patisserie for something ridiculously gooey and chocolaty.
“So, can you translate it or not?”
He peered at me over his glasses. “Oh, I can translate it. It may not be exactly as written, but close enough.”
“Fine. Can you tell me what Alison was working on before she was murdered?”
“Of course,” he said with a shrug. “That is easy. She was trying to find the dragons.”
I swear my mouth dropped open like an idiot.
“Tea anyone?” Sandra popped her head into the room. We both nodded. She smiled and popped back to wherever she’d been. I could hear the clinking of china and the slosh of water as she busied herself in what was obviously a kitchen area.
“Does it say why?” I couldn’t imagine why Alison had cared about finding dragons. After all, nobody believed they were real anymore, and those that did thought they were all dead.
“It appears she accidently discovered the truth about our race. When she brought the facts to the attention of her superiors, she was shut down, ordered to keep silent.” His finger traced the pages. “Instead she kept investigating quietly. She came to believe that someone within the organization was using MI8 to further his or her own ends.”
“What does that have to do with your people?”
“It is not clear. However, she also determined that the Dragon Hunters were not extinct, but that there was at least one in existence.” He shook his head, strands of inky silken hair sliding over his shoulders. “I do not see how this is possible. Even worse, instead of being trained as a Hunter, this one had been spirited away to live in the United States.”
Sandra bustled out with a tea tray piled with the requisite tea things and a load of tea biscuits. Drago smiled when he saw the cookies and helped himself to a large handful. I had a weakness for the biscuits myself, so I didn’t blame him. They were just so moreish.
“The U.S.?” I picked up the conversation. “You’re kidding. Talk about small world. But why was that a bad thing? And what’s not possible?”
He stared at me for several moments, as though trying to determine if I was worthy of knowledge. I tried to look studious or innocent or something. I was not sure it worked.
“You’ve no doubt been told that the Dragon Hunter ability is genetic and that it appeared out of nowhere.”
I nodded. That was exactly what I’d been told. What Alister Jones himself had told me.
“It isn’t genetic. It can’t be passed from one generation to the next. Each Dragon Hunter must be created.”
I stared at him for a full minute. “Excuse me? Created by whom?”
“Centuries ago, the first Rogue dragon began slaughtering humans by the hundreds. Horrified, the Clans tried to restrain him, but they could not and so thousands of humans died.”
I frowned. “So far it sounds exactly like the story I was told. I still don’t understand who created the Dragon Hunters.”
He held up a hand. “Patience.”
“Sorry. Go on. Please.” My voice was just a little tart.
He smiled a little at that. “The only result of such carnage would, of course, have been war. And war meant the death of millions, possibly even genocide. Faced with such a horror, the Drago, my grandfather, created a new creature: Dragon Hunter.”
The dragons had created Dragon Hunters? My mind stuttered to a halt over that one. How was it even possible? Before I could go any deeper with that thought, Drago pulled me back.
“But the Dragon Hunters did not stop at killing Rogue dragons. Their insatiable lust for death drove them to kill even the innocent, and so the Human/Dragon conflict began after all. When faced with annihilation, there was only one thing left to do. We built the Wall and then withdrew behind it.”
He watched me closely. Did he expect me to go ballistic or something? I was just too confused by the whole thing.
“The dragons built the Wall? Not Hadrian?”
“Oh, please.” He waved his hand. “As though the Roman Empire ever told the truth about anything. Talk about the world’s biggest propaganda machine.”
If what he was telling me was true, then nothing in the history books was right. Well, the history books that included dragons. Or Romans, for that matter.
“When the Dragon Hunters finished killing Rogues and started killing the other dragons, my grandfather stopped making Dragon Hunters. They eventually died out.”
“And that’s why there haven’t been any Dragon Hunters born over the last few centuries,” I concluded.
“Correct. This Dragon Hunter you speak of wasn’t made by me. I don’t know who and I don’t know how they discovered the secret, but someone else made her.”
“Shit.” I had a bad feeling I knew who’d been playing at god. And he just happened to be my best friend’s father.
“Exactly.”
I sighed and slumped in my chair and took a bite of tea biscuit. The sweet vanilla filled my mouth. “Why on earth would anyone let a Dragon Hunter run loose like that?”
He gave me a pointed look. “Must I spell it out for you?”
“No. No, not really.” There was only one reason to let a Dragon Hu
nter loose. To hunt dragons. “What about Alison’s murder? You really think someone was trying to stir things up by framing the dragons? Start another war?” Another war which would most likely end in the complete annihilation of the dragon race. Not to mention that some pretty bad shit would happen to my own human race.
He laid the diary on the table and leaned back in his chair. Those sapphire eyes of his caught mine, asking, demanding. “That would be my guess. What I want to know, Morgan Bailey, is how you are going to play this.”
“Like I always play it,” I told him. “On the side of truth.”
“No matter the cost? No matter who gets in your way?”
I stood up and snagged the diary off the desk. “The way I look at it, Drago, is that anybody who pulls this kind of bullshit deserves whatever they get.” I wasn’t about to mention my suspicions just yet. I didn’t know the Drago, but if it had been me, I’d be out for blood. “We’re talking attempted genocide. Not to mention the murder of an innocent woman. That is so not OK.” Understatement of the year, but there you go.
A slow smile spread across his too handsome face. “That’s what I like to hear. Perhaps we can work with you, after all.” He stood and held out his hand.
As I took it, he pulled me in close, his sweet chocolate and marshmallow scent wafting over me, swamping my senses. Heat ripped through my body, and it was just this side of painful. I so wasn’t comfortable with the proximity, but he was too strong for me.
His lips brushed against my ear sending shivers down my spine. And they weren’t happy shivers. “Remember, Hunter. The Fire is a gift. Do no refuse it lest it eat you.”
His voice was rough coals and his hand wrapped around mine wasn’t warm, it was hot, sending flames shooting up my arm and into my body. But I wasn’t turned on. There wasn’t much in this world I was afraid of anymore, but the man/dragon in front of me wasn’t exactly your ordinary monster. I was scared.
Me. The badass vampire hunter. Scared.
I jerked my hand back and swallowed hard. With a nod, I turned and strode quickly from the shop. I refused to let fear, or the dragon king, get the better of me.
Behind me, Drago laughed.
***
Darkness had fallen by the time I left The Dragon’s Den. The streetlamps cast their mellow orange glow over the cobbled streets of Soho as a drunk couple staggered past me, arms wrapped around each other. I wrinkled my nose. I could smell the reek of alcohol on them.
Laughing, one of the men slammed the other up against a shop wall. I braced myself for action before realizing it wasn’t aggression. At least not in a bad way, if the kissing was anything to go by.
I tucked my hands into my jacket pockets and tried not to stare too much as I passed them. An unexpected ping of jealousy hit me out of nowhere. Why couldn’t my love life be that simple? A little too much wine and some hot groping on a street corner sounded pretty good to me.
I’d just turned the corner when that tingle gripped the back of my skull, stopping me in my tracks. Vampire. I knelt down as though to tie my shoelace and carefully slid my blade from its ankle sheath.
“So, little Hunter, we meet again. At last.”
He stood a few feet away, wrapped in shadow. I couldn’t see his features, but I could smell him with that odd sense I had, and I’d never forget that voice. “You’ve led me on a merry chase these last few days, Bob.”
“Bob?” he sounded amused.
I shrugged. “Sounds good to me.”
Fangs flashed in the dim light and a chuckle followed. “You Americans are such an odd bunch. I suppose it comes from living in the wilderness of the Colonies all these years”
Was he serious? “Whatever, Bob. You didn’t answer my question.”
“You didn’t ask a question.”
Point to Bob. “Why have you been following me, Bob?”
He sighed. “You are amazingly thick for a Hunter. Very disappointing. Especially considering I’m essentially your sire.”
“Excuse me?”
This time his smile chilled me to the bones. He took one step closer. “I made you. Without me you would be languishing in the ordinary. I made you extraordinary.”
He was actually trying to take the credit for me becoming a Hunter. As if that made him killing me OK. “If you’re waiting for me to thank you, you’re going to be waiting one hell of a long time.”
He shrugged as if to say he had plenty of time. He wouldn’t if I could help it. I adjusted my grip on the knife handle. “Answer me.”
“Very well. I was paid to lead you around London. Distract you. Just for a few days, you understand.”
“You ran me all around London for money? ”
He examined his nails before buffing them on the lapel of his snazzy wool coat. “Living takes money, you know. And I’ve lived a very long time.”
“Well, then, let me fix that for you.”
I called it. Without a second’s hesitation, I called the Darkness and it came in a rush, ramming through me like an ocean wave. The edges of my vision bled black. It shrieked with glee and it wasn’t just the Darkness shrieking, it was me.
“Holy goddess.” Bob had blanched white. Well, as white as a vampire can blanch.
“The goddess can’t help you now, Bob. No one can.” The voice that came out of my mouth was mine and yet not mine. It held the weight of a thousand tombs. I let loose the Darkness.
Apparently he decided he wasn’t going to sit there and wait to get turned into dog meat. He ran at me. The Darkness laughed and I was across the street and on him faster than a heartbeat.
Bob grabbed a handful of my jacket and used my momentum to swing me around and into the wall. I landed so hard it rattled my teeth. I’d no doubt have some lovely bruises.
He went for my throat, fangs flashing in the dim light, but I brought up one arm and with strength born of Darkness broke his grip. With my other hand I got a good grip on his throat. He snarled and I snarled back, lifting the knife and driving it home right into his kidneys.
Only problem is vampires don’t really use their kidneys so stabbing one is no big deal unless you had time to let them bleed to death. I didn’t have that kind of time.
Bob picked me up and threw me. I flew a good twenty feet before crashing down on the pavement. Something snapped and pain flooded my body, but the Darkness snarled and shoved it back. I felt nothing but the bliss of Darkness.
The Darkness wasn’t all power, it was cunning, too. I lay, waiting, catching my breath until Bob was within arm’s reach. Then I reach out and grabbed his ankle, flipping him into the air and unto his back. He landed with enough force that if vampires could breathe, it would have knocked the wind out of him.
In a flash, I was on top of him, straddling his chest, knife at his throat. “Who paid you, Bob?” I could barely hiss out the words past the Darkness that was growing stronger and stronger inside me. “Who wants me dead?” Because that’s what it was. A hit. Whoever hired Bob had to have known that he would try to finish what he started. What they didn’t know was that I was no longer easy to kill.
“If I tell you, will you let me go?”
The Darkness smiled with my mouth. “Of course, Bob.”
“Swear it.”
“We swear it. On everything we hold dear. If you tell us who hired you, we will let you go.” My voice had a weird double echo. Deep inside I felt a thrill of terror.
“Fine. It was a woman called Jade. A Hunter, but not like you.”
“Very good, Bob,” the Darkness said with my mouth, my voice. “Thank you for telling us.” The blade bit into his neck, spilling a thin trickle of blood.
Fear flashed across a face that might have once been handsome. “You promised.”
“Of course we did, Bob. And we keep our promises. We will let you go back to the dust which made you,” the Darkness hissed.
“No! Please!”
“Sorry, Bob.” Without warning the Darkness was gone and in its place was Fire. Fire so hot
it burned, turning my very bones to dust. “Ashes to ashes ... ” the Fire whispered in the vampire’s ear.
I placed my palm in the center of his chest. One second later, he was flame. He screamed in agony, but though I still straddled him, the flames didn’t hurt me. I watched in awe as they danced along my skin, leaving it unmarred.
And then I knelt alone on a pile of ash. Deep inside, the Darkness laughed and a tiny crimson flame danced.
Chapter Eighteen
I don’t remember how I got back to the hotel. One minute I was on that dark street kneeling in a pile of ash and the next I was standing in the hotel lobby with Francois fussing over me.
“Mademoiselle Bailey! Where have you been? Mademoiselle Jones has been most upset! Most upset. Is everything OK? You look most distressed!” He talked at about ninety miles an hour, arms waving in the air. Every other sentence came out an exclamation. Honestly, he was exhausting.
“I’m fine, Francois. My meeting just went a bit longer than I expected.”
“But Mademoiselle ... ”
“I’m fine,” I cut him off, voice firm. “Goodnight, Francois.”
He was still muttering and wringing his hands when I turned my back on him and headed for the elevator.
Inside, I slumped against the wall. I tried desperately to dredge up any memory of the trip, but no matter how hard I tried it was a no go. The last thing I could remember was Bob doing a great ash pile impersonation.
“Shit.” I ran a hand through my hair and realized it was shaking. I was not doing my reputation as a badass Vampire Hunter any good. I stepped off the elevator and headed for Kabita’s room.
The door swung open at my knock. “What on earth happened to you? You look like you’ve been rolling around in a dustbin.”
“Pretty much,” I said, stepping past her into the room. “I dusted Bob.”
“Who?”
“The vamp that killed me three years ago.”
Kabita sat down abruptly on the edge of the bed. Her mouth worked as though she was trying to say something but couldn’t quite figure out what. Finally, “His name was Bob?” She sounded incredulous. I didn’t blame her.