Fire Water (Black Magic Outlaw Book 5)

by Domino Finn

  Of course. He was an elemental. He didn't need to eat or drink. In my steppe, water killed him. Hardened him until he was just crust. Was that true in the Aether as well?

  A passing cloud fell over us. At first, it only darkened the sky. But then I was reminded of our altitude when the fog crept through the bushes and low trees of the valley. It grew so thick I would've lost sight of Tyson had it not been for the illuminated cracks across his skin. Molten orange flowed between the plates of rock on his body.

  "At your ready," he said.

  I nodded and drank some more. He wasn't the only one getting the spooky vibe but this water was damn good. Even better than the tea.

  "This wellspring is generously hosted for you," he stressed. "You don't want to undo your welcome."

  I begrudgingly stepped to the edge of the water. "Hosted? What welcome?"

  The wall of fog thinned but did not retreat. I could see the elemental now. His red eyes darted to the outskirts of the small clearing. His body was tense.

  His eyes weren't the only pair of light in the fog. The others were farther off, but sets of piercing blue, green, and gold surrounded us. It must have been twenty creatures.

  "Dragons," said Tyson.

  Chapter 18

  I hurried out of the wellspring. Stumbling and splashing. It was like someone had walked in on me taking a dump. I wasn't prepared to be accosted by a flight of dragons. Apparently I'd forgotten my life was a third-rate Dungeons & Dragons campaign. But, hey, at least I had my pants on.

  "You shouldn't have come here," said a crystalline voice. She spoke with a light but confident air. Thing is, her voice drifted on the mist, somehow snaking through the rush of water at my back but nevertheless hard to place.

  I swiveled on my feet and reached for my belt pouch. Damn, when was I gonna get used to the fact that I was unequipped? Even if I hadn't lost it in a clash with Connor, I wouldn't have been able to bring it to the Aether. I zeroed in on a set of purple eyes. They were closest to us. I squared my shoulders to them.

  "A volcanic aspect is an impressive guardian," she said, "but you know just as well as I that no jinn passes through High Valley alive."

  The figure ambled toward me. She was humanoid. Lithe. The slight sway of her hips practiced and seductive. But I could barely make out something else in the mist. A long reptilian tail snaking from her backside. Large leathery wings extending from either shoulder. The vision in the mist was like a dream: suggestive, frightening, but I couldn't tell if it was real.

  I took a step back. The fog passed and the woman came into view right before us. My eyes widened.

  Whatever I'd been expecting, it wasn't this.

  A tall woman slithered into view. She didn't have wings or a tail, and she was completely naked. Her frame was thin but long, standing a couple inches taller than me. Her arms and legs were ropey but smooth. Small breasts, tight stomach, toned glutes. An active woman, around my age maybe, in great shape and without a single wrinkle marring her pink skin.

  Perhaps more striking than her nude body were the tattoos. Her arms and legs were covered with wide inked scales, stockings and sleeves suggesting her heritage. She was barefoot but had metal bands around her feet, legs, and forearms. Small spikes jutted along them in a ridge. Her long black hair was held in place by a tiara with matching horns. A short sword hung on a thin strap around her waist, impressive in its own right. It reflected an azure hue that cut through the fog.

  Despite the danger, I couldn't help myself. Something about her exotic markings, casual nudity, and supreme confidence mesmerized me. She converged on us with a seductive gait and it was hard for me to do anything but watch.

  "You don't look like a local jinn," she mused, tapping her finger on the hilt of her blade. Then her entire display of control shattered. Her purple eyes widened and she recoiled in shock. "A human!"

  Everybody tensed. She drew her weapon. The other dragons converged. Tyson took a protective step forward like a guard dog. The shadow tickled my back as it answered my call.

  And then the woman laughed. She turned to her people and laughed for them all to hear. She flipped her blade in her hand and deftly sheathed it. She waved and the fog cleared out of the entire valley.

  The rest of the dragons were revealed by the sun, men and woman wearing light clothes that sometimes failed at modesty. The woman with the purple eyes was no longer naked, either. She wore something of a leathery dress like a second skin. It reminded me of my alligator-hide boots. It framed a collar around her shoulders and neck, stretched down over the center of her chest and into a hip belt, and barely covered her waist. The look would've killed on South Beach.

  Tyson grunted. "Princess Lilliane, the High Justice." He bowed reverently. "I am named Tyson. The human is Cisco Suarez."

  Lilliane snorted. "I'm no princess to your kith. Don't belabor me with titles."

  "Breaker of chains," I joked. "Mother of dragons." Everyone glared at me. I pretended I had something under my fingernail.

  Tyson cleared his throat. "We thank you for allowing the human to use your wellspring."

  "A taste for travelers is not an offense," Lilliane replied sharply. "It's your jinn masters who hoard the resources of the land. I give you leave to rest in our shade, eat of our fruit, and drink of our spring. And then you must press on, before darkness falls and the human freezes."

  She signaled to her army who fell in behind her. Despite their scant armor, they were an intimidating troop. Each had black-clawed fingers that could probably do serious damage. Some had shimmering blades at their hips. All ranged from six to seven feet tall.

  "You don't understand, Lilliane," said Tyson.

  "Oh?" She turned, more curious than annoyed.

  "We're here for an audience with the Mother."

  The elemental held up the bronze disk, the gift from Malik. Lilliane's eyes narrowed suspiciously. We weren't in immediate danger but the tension returned.

  "Wait," I said, dumbfounded. "There really is a mother of dragons?"

  Chapter 19

  The sun beat down in the recently cleared sky, raising the temperature in the mountaintop crater. It didn't help that we were marching uphill, leaving the shade of the oasis below. My boots slipped several times, and I jealously wondered how the barefoot dragons had no trouble on the craggy surface. Tyson was just as surefooted, which made sense considering he was essentially rock himself.

  We approached the base of a vertical wall against the side of the valley. The mountain was bare here, revealing its stone underside in the absence of soil and plants. Even though the surface was a natural formation, there was nothing natural about it. The walls were smooth and ornamented with symbols, looking like something out of an Indiana Jones flick. There weren't any columns cut into the rock, but a large cave mouth was shaped into an elegantly pointed arch, complete with frame. Desolate and abandoned, an undiscovered ancient wonder of the world. Notwithstanding us, of course. Or the leathery inhabitants. Sets of eyes blinked in the darkness within, silently standing vigil.

  The cave interior was dark and moist, a welcome reprieve from the sun. I smiled as the shadow played around my feet.

  "Do not raise your defenses, human," warned Lilliane. "You're safe, until the Mother judges you otherwise."

  "It's Cisco," I said with a mock smile. "And that's real comforting."

  Still, I had a feeling she was telling the truth and I didn't want to overplay my hand. I relaxed my spellcraft, if only to prove to her I had the courage. Impressed yet?

  Deeper in the cave mouth, several tunnels opened up. It was getting darker and darker so I let the shadow seep into my eyes. Lilliane didn't complain. I could see in near pitch black if I needed to. Apparently the dragons and Tyson could do the same. We marched ahead unhindered, following our escort.

  We were in what could only be described as a palace. Smooth walls, extravagant but sparse. After the first few normal-looking rooms we passed through, I gave up all hope of finding Smaug sle
eping on a sea of gold coins and treasure. These dragons didn't hoard riches, but there was something noble about them. Their heritage, their tradition, their culture. They carried themselves with the self-importance that only monarchs could. I wondered if they ruled over anybody or hid from the rest of the Aether in exile.

  Eventually we were led into the throne room. A large space of flat ground opened before us. The rocks on the side walls were carved into rows of seats like bleachers. At the far end was a small dais with a modest chair. No gold-armored guard. The throne wasn't forged from iron swords. The place looked more like the site of a pep rally than a seat of royalty.

  In attendance at this quick-and-dirty meeting was a woman on the throne and three standing men. Two held spears and flanked the dais. Just guards. The third man bore a sheathed sword ornamented with gems. His barrel chest was bare and he wore long scale leggings. All were adorned with the tattoos of their kind.

  "Brother," said Lilliane, giving the prince a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

  "You bring us distinguished guests," he said in reply. An open sneer announced his sentiment toward "distinguished guests." His eyes were black and something flashed in them as he looked me over. I'd never seen or heard of dragons before, but something about these people was eerily familiar.

  The two guards watched us too, but in that unobtrusive way that made it easy to forget about them. Eyes forward, taking in the entire auditorium even though there were only the seven of us huddled in a small space.

  The prince smiled. "What, pray tell, is a human doing in High Valley?"

  "Don't look at me," I said. "I'm just along for the ride."

  He watched me like a predator, unsure what to make of me.

  "Don't bite, Edric," chided Lilliane. "They come bearing gifts." She flipped the coin into the air and he snatched it with precision.

  He studied the token with a measured face at first. Then he curled his upper lip and stared daggers at me, a snarl escaping his throat.

  "Where did you get this?" he snapped.

  Tyson replied evenly, without aggression. "Does it matter?"

  "It does if you're in league with dragon hunters." His eyes flicked to me again.

  The elemental shook his head. "The human is my charge. He doesn't understand the significance of the Roman coin. I merely offer it as a gift."

  "This gift is an insult to my people."

  Despite the threatening air in the room, the smallest of gestures stole everyone's attention. It was the woman sitting on the throne, until now still as a statue. She was old but robust, with short hair and strong features. A robe of loose strips of magenta dragon scales rolled over her shoulders and ran down her body. The layering of strips hid her limbs well, as a child hugging a blanket, but with a slight movement her arm protruded from the cloth and her wrist twisted, hand waiting, palm up.

  The gesture stopped the prince in his tracks. He bowed slightly and placed the Roman coin in the Mother's hand. She turned her attention to it, again with only the minimum movement possible. Just a cock of her neck. Then her eyes rested on me.

  "It doesn't take a sage to see this human knows nothing of our plight," she stated calmly. Not in admonishment, but as a parent doubling as teacher. "Isn't that right, Cisco Suarez?"

  I nodded, wondering when Lilliane had mentioned my name.

  "And the elemental is beyond such hunts," she continued. "Even if a jinn master were to command it. But then, this aspect has no master." She rose from the throne, lithe and slow, and stepped toward us. "How is it that a masterless aspect travels to High Valley with a human?"

  "It's a long, boring story," said Tyson. "Involving human affairs."

  Distaste flashed across the Mother's face. An annoyance, painful but necessary, like waiting for a shot at the doctor's office. Her lips pursed in impatient anticipation, suggesting Tyson continue.

  He cleared his throat and addressed her. "We were manipulated by the same jinn in a struggle for power over the human's city. Many friends perished, and our enemy now stands to control the dead."

  The Mother soured. "Earthly politics," she said, aghast. She considered me. "I bet you look upon our world with wonder, human, twisting your neck to keep up with our ways. The truth is, nothing is more circuitous and arcane than Earthly politics."

  I cocked my head and shrugged, weighing her opinion with mine. "I don't know. Five great satrapies ruling the sky. Animating elementals, hoarding water and other resources, leaving scraps for everybody else. It doesn't sound so unfamiliar."

  "Does it not?"

  I shrugged again. "Bureaucracies only make sense within the confines of their rules. Anyone looking from the outside in is bound to see something silly."

  The Mother nodded. "The ways of the jinn and Maqad veer eerily close to Earth's. The way they subjugate aspects for their utility is horrendous."

  Tyson grunted. "It was aspects who built this palace."

  Lilliane cut in. "That was an alliance in another time."

  "The result is much the same," he maintained. "Just like now."

  "Now?" asked the Mother.

  "You detest jinnkind, and we aim to disrupt one in power. Common goals, if you ask me."

  She watched the elemental with amusement, not so easily backed into an alliance. "We hate them and their silly ways," she stated flatly. "Even the human has an opinion. But opinions are not strategy."

  "I'm not talking about the jinn," I said, trying to steer the conversation back on point. "I'm talking about the bureaucracy right here."

  The hall silenced. The Mother crossed her arms. "And what is silly to you about High Valley, Cisco Suarez?"

  I spoke carefully, doing my best not to offend but pressing on. "I don't know. On Earth it makes sense at least. Why humans rule the world. But what makes the jinns such hot shit when there are dragons in the mountains?"

  Prince Edric stepped forward. "The jinns do not rule High Valley," he spat.

  The Mother lifted her hand. "That will be enough, High Sword." I could tell she had to rein in her son's temper often.

  "I just don't get it," I continued. "With all the races up here, what makes them fit to rule? Is it just that angels, jinns, and humans were destined for it?"

  Now the Mother's cheeks tightened in anger. "That's Celestial talk. It's garbage. All of it."

  Lilliane cut in with a cooler head. "Those stories don't account for the plentiful other races in the realms. But even by their measure, you're mistaking the jinn for a single people. We call them so today, but back then many others would've been classified as such, including dragons."

  I stared at them curiously, seeing such hatred for a people that they could be counted among. Although I wasn't sure all of them shared Lilliane's viewpoint.

  "Let me tell you about the Celestials," snarled the Mother, standing eye-to-eye with me. The queen was shorter than her offspring but every inch as tall as me. "It's the simple story of greed." She drew the Roman coin up between us. "This brought wealth and fame in its day. It's called a dragon, named such for its equal worth in the life of my kind. Your so-called Celestials paid unscrupulous hunters one of these for every head they procured."

  Rage boiled on her face. Her purple eyes flashed brightly, and the suggestion of wings blurred in the space behind her. Immaterial, like a blind spot. Stare too long at a light bulb and look away—that afterimage lingers. That's what I saw. Pointed wings. Tendrils snaking from her mouth. I took a step away from her and blinked.

  The images were gone, but the uneasy pit in my stomach wasn't.

  The Mother smiled and palmed the Roman dragon. "Only this coin isn't alone. It's one of thousands. Seven. Thousand. Dragons."

  Angels and dragon hunters. That didn't make much sense. The leathery wings flashed through my mind, and I realized humans didn't think of them as dragons.

  "You're talking about demon hunters."

  She smiled primly. "We're a small population at our most robust. A thousand by optimistic counts. You can imagi
ne, back then, how that genocide nearly wiped us out." Her eyes flicked to me like a snake's. "Don't worry, little apple. I do not blame your kind for this."

  I waited a beat. "The angels."

  "That's a misleading word. Celestials merely enforce their dogma on the world. Keep us out of yours. Give rise to the rule of the jinn. But despite their best efforts, we have persevered. So yes, while we detest the servitude demanded by the jinn, our true hatred is reserved for those who deem themselves our betters. Those who would have seen us exterminated for not blindly complying like the jinn."

  The threat sliced through the molecules of the air. Efficient. It left no doubt how the dragons treated friends of angels. I trusted my companion wouldn't mention Malik. I wondered how he meant to explain the coin. If it mattered.

  Thousands of years of history raced through my head. Not personal experience but belief. That was about as personal as it got. It shaped everything I was. I'd never believed in angels and demons, at least not since I was a kid. Malik had told me I was half right. And it was starting to form a new belief in my mind.

  Angels were supposed creatures of guidance. Compliance, the way the dragons saw it. Enforcers, even. They were real.

  All of a sudden the law and order of the jinns made sense. Duty. That was their defining trait the angels favored over the dragons. No doubt that applied to their masterships. Even Connor Hatch had admitted to serving many others in his time. And no doubt those rules extended to their treatment of Earth. Jinns aren't allowed to interfere with humans unless both sides openly parlay with each other. Maybe these safeguards weren't jinn law at all, but angelic in nature. A red line drawn in the sand, staking out territories, creating order. A red line which the dragons had at one time crossed.

  And there was the flipside to the metaphorical Roman coin. The dragons. If they had been persecuted for messing with human affairs, killed off by the angels and their hunters en masse, did that not make them the demons of Western folklore? Maybe demons as we understood them didn't exist at all. Various constructs and races of unimaginable horror. Gargoyles. Vampires. Dragons. As long as they bumped in the night, mankind allowed them to fill the role. But it's a two-dimensional role in a derivative B movie. One which relegates evil into something plain and easy to imagine, existing for its own sake. That was what Malik had meant by there being no real demons. Nothing is so black and white.