Gabor gasped, a bit dramatic. “Master Red Dragon, of course there is something they pour out. If they were to stop, if they were to miss even one day, the world would tilt into chaos. Wars. Famine. Pestilence. You are lucky they favor this world enough to help us.”
Cale coughed at that, sending a shot of warm air out at his frozen glass. The ice melted long enough for him to drink it. He didn’t mind the new things he could do since he pacted with Ava. Didn’t mind at all. “Sirce tried to kill me just because I didn’t fit into his plan. Who knows how many other people he’s murdered for the same reason. I don’t owe him anything.”
Gabor got quiet and leaned in, shaking his head. “Please don’t say such things, Master Red Dragon. You’ll be in trouble.”
“They already tried that. Didn’t work then, won’t work now. Sirce can’t touch me. He gave Ava his word.”
Gabor held up a knobby finger. “Master said that his promise not to harm you will only be kept if your phoenix keeps her word in return.”
Cale growled. Bastard. “Ava doesn’t do anything she doesn’t want to do.” It wasn’t a lie, but there was a deeper truth buried within it that made his stomach heavy.
“Yes. The gift of a phoenix. The master envies her. But the master envies a lot of people.”
“Like who?”
“Shiloh Deathbringer.” Gabor sighed. “A pity. Quite a pity. I don’t know why the Accuser is locking him up. But it is a pity. I suppose it is something to do with the treasure.”
“The pearl?”
“Ah, yes. Everyone is very excited about it. Very excited. But it is no coincidence that the master chose poor Shiloh to make an example of. He could have asked any of the riders about it. But he envies him so. What a pity.”
“That’s strange. Why do you think he’s jealous?”
The goblin’s eyes widened. “Oh, because of how well the others listen to him. If Shiloh goes, they all follow.” Gabor made a chunky fist and pointed one finger. “But the master is very clever. If he cannot use someone to do his will, he will destroy them.”
Cale almost shivered as he remembered Sirce’s threat all those months ago. If he could not have Ava, he would end her. She would be his, or a pile of ash. The words throbbed in Cale’s core.
He studied the little goblin as he hobbled around, straightening things in his master’s room, touching the curtains, the sheets.
“Gabor…why are you telling me all these things? Why are you answering my questions? Your master wouldn’t like that.”
Gabor stopped, setting down the hairbrush he had been putting in its
place on the dresser. His chin drooped, and his shoulders slumped a little. “Gabor has a big mouth. Master always says so. And I am fat and smelly and stupid. But the sprites and little nymphs are not strong enough. There are not many who can serve the master as long as I have served him. He is very….”
“Hateful.”
Gabor’s big eyes clouded with tears, but he did not let them fall. “I do my best. But I have a big mouth. Big dumb Gabor.” And then he glanced at himself in the mirror and looked at Cale’s reflection. “But Gabor is not
as stupid as they think he is.” He sorted through the bottles of incense, letting them clank together as he dusted them with his fingertips. “Some-times, Gabor knows what he is doing.” And then he pointed to the door. “Master Red Dragon should be on his way now.”
Cale blinked, surprised that their conversation was over. “What?”
Gabor just kept pointing. “Go, or you’ll miss your chance.”
And so Cale got up, bidding his frozen limbs to move. He didn’t mind leaving the strange goblin, though Gabor had helped him by divulging so much information. He missed Ava. He always missed Ava. He opened the heavy door that led away from Sirce’s bedroom and bumped right into someone else.
Startled, the woman shrieked and tried to pull away, but her diamond-laden bracelet caught in the threads of Cale’s butcher shop uniform. She struggled, yanking her arm away to no avail, while a little blue sprite, hovering beside her, squealed and pushed Cale’s face. She was no more than three feet tall, but her slaps stung.
“Get off her,” the sprite squealed, her gossamer wings fluttering, her voice like tinkling bells gone mad.
“I’m trying,” Cale shouted, covering his head to fend off the tiny attacks.
Finally, the woman unhinged herself, examining her bracelet before she bothered to call off her sprite. She smoothed down her skirts and waved a manicured hand. “Enough, Sylphie. My goodness, compose yourself.”
The sprite dropped her arms without a moment of hesitation, bowing her head in silent obedience, though she still floated beside her mistress.
Cale finally got a good look at the woman. She seemed no older than he was, her face sweet and her skin snowy, though her eyes were a sharp, clever ice-gray. Her dress was woven from elven silk, her jewelry glittering though the moon barely shone through the windows. It hung from her shoulders, revealing more of her alabaster skin. She seemed unreal, like the statue of a goddess come to life.
“An apology would be customary,” she said. She didn’t sound angry. Just impatient, distracted. As if she was slightly annoyed. She smoothed her hands over skirts once more, then checked her hair, tucking the strands of silvery white that had come loose back into their place atop her head.
“You’re a grey dragon.” Cale stated it out loud, hating that he was so in awe of her. She was one of the seven who held his entire world in balance with her slender hands. One of the seven who’d convinced Sirce not to kill him when he stood before the court.
She stared at Cale. He couldn’t tell whether she was thinking of how to change that ruling or about which of her jewels she should have re-polished. After a few moments, she jumped a little, as if she’d forgotten he was standing there. “Oh…have you apologized yet?”
“Sorry for running into you.” He waited a moment, wondering if maybe he hadn’t done it right. So he added an awkward, “Uh…Lady Grey Dragon, ma’am,” and gave an unsure bow.
She narrowed her diamond eyes, taking a closer look. “Who are you? Why are there random red dragons milling about the courts, assaulting judges? Who do you belong to?” She motioned to her sprite, too impatient to wait for his answer. “Sylphie, who does he belong to?”
Sylphie nodded her head to her mistress. “He is here by request of your
brother, Lady Ima. He belongs to the phoenix.” Sylphie shot ice daggers at him with her stare. “And he is not very good at apologizing.”
Ima glistened, her smile creeping to life. “That’s right. Sirce’s new little pet has finally come. I suppose your phoenix is with him now.”
“That’s what I was told. They’re at the windows.”
Her mouth twitched, still holding it’s expression. “Oh? And who shared that bit of intelligence with you?”
“Uh….” he wanted to lie. But of course, if he tried to say anything other than the truth, nothing would come out. Hopefully, the grey judge didn’t know he was a truth-speaker. He didn’t want to get Gabor in trouble. The goblin had helped him after all. And his immaculate honesty was never useful in these situations.
“It was Gabor,” the sprite said, leaning in to her mistress.
Ima glared at her. “Yes, I know who it was. Don’t be a snitch, Sylphie.”
The sprite would have blushed if her skin could have held any more blue.
Ima walked circles around Cale as she examined him. She ran her cool hand over the muscles of his arm and back, across the sharpness of his collarbone. “So, you are the one the phoenix chose to form a red dragon pact with. You don’t seem exceptionally strong, nor more clever than you ought to be. Yet the only creature who can be truly free…has decided to chain herself to the likes of you.” She almost seemed to glint in the light of the moon, feeding off something Cale couldn’t see. “It must hurt her to stay with you.” She licked her lips, as if the thought itself was delicious. “It must hurt you
to see her struggle.” She smiled, a sweet, slow smile. “Does she weep?”
Cale opened his mouth, but nothing came out. It was as if her touch had brought the reality of her words to the surface. What could I even say to contradict her? It was true. He hurt Ava all the time. He just couldn’t feel how much. The judge was right.
And she liked it.
“I shall keep my eye on the two of you…and not only because Sirce will use your phoenix to find the pearl, but because you are special. You delight me in a way no one else can.” She closed her eyes as she circled Cale again. “Such exquisite pain. Hidden by smiles and grand adventures, but a deep, horrid pain that lies just beneath and rots good things. That is my favorite kind, the most pure pain.”
It was hard for the words to come out. “Something…is wrong with you. With all of you greys.”
“Yes, you are right.” She sighed. “And that is why we are here to keep the world balanced. You’ll see. So will your phoenix. And then, she will help my brother to find the pearl he seeks, and he will have everything he’s ever wanted.” Her words dripped with bitterness, her delicate hands forming clenched fists in the fabric of her skirts.
“You want Sirce to have everything he wants?” Cale asked. He’d never met the woman before, but he knew hate when he saw it. It filled her up when she mentioned Sirce’s name. Cale didn’t need any blue dragon training to see the way it shook her body.
She laughed, her eyes frigid and unflinching. “I want him to suffer.”
“Then we can help each other. If you’d point me the right way, I’d like to find my rider and get the hell out of here.”
She stopped smiling. “I hate. I do not defy.”
Ima nodded for her sprite to follow her, lifted her skirts and walked past Cale, taking the smell of rose and lavender and the secrets of a thousand years of pain with her.
“That’s Lady Ima,” Gabor said, peeking his wide eyes out from behind Sirce’s door. “I thought you’d want to meet her. She always comes by to see my master around this time.”
“To try to kill him?”
Gabor gasped, his big mouth wide. “Kill him? We do not even think such things here in the courts, Master Red Dragon. Grey dragons do not die. If that were to happen the world would die as well. Lady Ima would never. No, she would never.”
“Then why does she come every night?”
Gabor waggled bushy eyebrows. “Well…my master is a handsome gentleman, and she a beautiful lady.”
Cale fought the urge to vomit. “But…she said Sirce was her brother!”
“Yes.”
“But they….”
“Why, of course.” Gabor looked up and down the halls. “The same as you and your rider I’m sure. I saw her when she left with my master.” He grinned. “She must be quite lively beneath the sheets.”
Cale blushed crimson. “Gabor! Knock it off.”
He chuckled, “You are too modest, Master Red Dragon,” sighing at the end of his jest. “You know your phoenix well. Do you think she will help the master find his treasure?”
Cale didn’t have to think. “No. I don’t think she will, Gabor.”
The goblin became serious, looking Cale right in the eye. “If that is true, then you had better run, Master Red Dragon.”
Cale looked up and down the hall. Nothing and no one. “What?”
“Run. Run now.”
“Gabor—”
But the goblin shut the door to his master’s room without another word, and there was nothing left except the pang in Cale’s stomach that said Gabor was right, and everything was about to go terribly wrong.
Eight
Baggage
Her tattered shoes squeaked against the marble as she ran. Her adrenaline surged, her eyes trained on what was ahead—escape.
Cale raced behind her, trying to catch her, trying to see if she was hurt. He had let her talk to Sirce alone for ten minutes. Ten minutes, and she’d burst through the door in an all-out sprint. She didn’t stop until they made it to one of the open windows, and only then because Cale forced her to. The sky grew darker as the deep of night wrapped itself around the courts, and Ava tried to catch her breath. Cale swung her around to face him.
“Ava, talk to me.”
He just needed to know she was okay before he went back. He had every intention of killing the Accuser. He didn’t care that Gabor said it was impossible. He didn’t care. That was the part of him—the most red part—that didn’t want to think.
But Ava clutched to his shirt. “We need to get out of here, now.”
He wanted her to meet his eyes. Did Sirce hurt her? He knew how twisted the grey dragon was, how cruel. How could he have let his guard down, even for that short amount of time? How could I fail her so easily?
“He touched you?” Cale asked in red tongue, his voice as deep as a growl.
“He’s insane,” Ava said, her eyes wide as she struggled to take in more oxygen. She looked behind her as if the judge was only a step away, creeping up on them in the shadows. “He’s insane.”
Cale tried to quell his own panic when Ava started to dart off again. Stay calm. Stay calm and help her. “Slow down. I don’t think anyone’s chasing us, Ava.”
Ava paced in tight circles. “The whole system is a lie. Everything they told us was good and right…it’s all a lie.”
“Because of what they tried to do to us? The exile?”
“It’s bigger than that. Worse than that. They want me to find happy people—good people,” she stopped and licked her lips. “They want to kill them, Cale. All of them.”
Cale shook his head. “Ava, I know the greys aren’t what they pretend to be, but that doesn’t make any—”
“I know it doesn’t make any sense, Cale!” she shouted. She was forgetting to exhale, beads of sweat breaking out on her forehead. “They want me to find the pearl. And then they’re going to use it to kill everyone who’s good.”
Cale didn’t understand what she was saying. The grey dragons restored and maintained the balance. That was their job, their only purpose. And they’d tried to kill Cale because he upset the balance in ways they refused to explain to him. But this? This was illogical. There was no way killing people who brought good into the world would help the greys do their job. If anything, it would make their job harder. It would tip the balance they worked so hard to maintain. Doing that was the opposite of what they’d want.
“Cale.” Ava broke his thoughts, put her hands on either side of his face so he looked at her. She took as deep a breath as she could, though it was still shaky. “I know you’re trying to fit all this into something that makes sense. But I don’t have time to explain. Believe me when I tell you that Sirce has nothing left in him but hate. He’s balancing everything upside down. And we have to get out of here, because you are one of those good people, Cale. And he’ll kill you. Then he’ll kill everyone you care about. We won’t be able to stop him if you’re dead.”
Even though her nerves made her hands twitch against his cheeks, her eyes were steady. The same girl he saw in the boxing ring that first night, the same girl who pledged her life to him, was the one peering into his core. And he knew, no matter how powerful she became, or how much it hurt, that he would be hers.
“Okay.” He tried to move away so he could change forms.
Her hands fell, and she gasped. “No. Shiloh…we have to get him out of here.”
“You just said there wasn’t even time to explain and now you want to save the no-ir?”
“Cale, we have to save him.” Her eyes hardened, and her skin flooded with gold. “I need you to trust me.”
He stepped back and let out a shot of flame and ash. Heated blood coursed through his veins, ignited by the fire in his core. His rider swung up onto his back, fear cast aside and her dragonblade drawn.
But before they could charge forward, prepared to tear the place apart in their search for the no-ir, a little blue sprite, her eyes wide and her violet eyelashes chiming as
she blinked, hovered behind them. Silently, Sylphie pressed a delicate finger to her lips, and turned to the eastern door.
She was quick, her gossamer wings beating as she zoomed down the dark hallways. Cale, with Ava on his back, had to push to keep up with the sprite. The white-lit torches turned the world to a looming gray and played tricks on his eyes. Sylphie turned left and right, then right again, ascending higher and higher until at last they opened a dull wooden door.
Dozens of black-pitted eyes turned to them. They were all silent, riders with gray and hairless heads. They sat in black leather, their capes fastened about their shoulders. Around them were dragons—black shining hides, some large and some small—lounging, sleeping, staring.
They had few reactions, only looked on, steeped in their quiet. For a moment, Cale waited for them to attack, to take out their whips or to call his name in their tongue and bring him to his knees. He and Ava were trespassing, and the no-ir lived to serve the greys, to protect their will. Surely they would do their duty and stop the intruders. Surely they would hand them over to the Accuser himself.
Sylphie held up a key, showing it to the room of onlookers. One of the no-ir riders, who sat with his arm over his dragon’s neck, pointed towards the western hallway. Without a word, they passed by, following his directions to the last of the wooden doors and opening the lock.
Death. It had a scent all its own. As if it called out, “I am coming for you. No matter who you are or what you’ve done, I am coming.”
Ava fought to keep from vomiting. She shoved a hand over her nose and tried to focus on anything else—on the way Cale walked when he was concentrating. On the calm she felt whenever she sat alone in ownworld. But Sirce’s face kept creeping into her vision. His pointed teeth smiling as he described the task he’d called her for. To kill the dragons who were righteous and kind. To murder those who would do the greatest good in the world. To find the pearl and bend it to his wicked will.
Vane Page 12