by Jex Lane
In the center was a large round tent made of leather and furs.
Before the tent stood a man. He also wore a suit but unlike Warlord Tarrick’s, whose was wet and covered in dirt, his was spotless. He had dark hair and unnaturally clear blue eyes. A knowing smile crossed his lips.
It took Jet a moment to work out what the man was.
One of the few creatures that could kill a gargoyle with ease.
A dragon.
CHAPTER SIX
Jet hadn’t seen a dragon in so long he’d forgotten they were one of only a few species who could mask their true form from a gargoyle.
“Warlord,” the dragon said to Tarrick, his voice almost mocking. He looked Jet over once before moving onto Fate-Pebble and nodding to her. “Oracle. Have you come to demand the favor I owe you?”
“Nah,” she said. “Our paths crossing is coincidence…or maybe Fate reminding you that she can hear what you’re saying. Especially when you start cussing her out, Theo.”
“Ah.”
“We’re here to see the witch.”
“I hope you have better luck dealing with her than I have.” Theo motioned to the tent before walking down the path, past the group, and disappearing through the magic that disguised this place.
Tarrick pulled a comm from his pocket but Fate-Pebble grabbed his wrist. “Don’t bother warning the hunter,” she said. “Unless he’s trained to fight the dragon’s influences, he’ll see him then forget it a moment later.”
She let him go and began walking to the tent, but it was Tarrick’s turn to grab her wrist.
He regarded her a moment. "How many dragons owe you a favor?”
“All of them. I woke them.”
“Do you have any idea how useful that is? Having dragons on our side could turn this war.”
“No,” she said with a slight head shake. “I can call on them for like a ride somewhere, but waking them isn’t enough to convince them to fight for us. If it were, don’t you think I’d have asked?”
“I’m actually not sure,” he said.
“I want to win this as badly as you do.” She yanked her wrist from him and hissed. “I want Malarath dead. I want peace because I don’t actually hate incubi, I have soavik glands now even if I’m not one of you. I want my house with my books, and my family, and my dog.” Jet put his hand on her shoulder and she grabbed his fingers. He didn’t mind that she called him her dog because what she really meant was that she enjoyed being with him. And he enjoyed his little stone as well. “Besides, it’s not like you jumped in and asked him for help.”
Tarrick slid his comm back into his pocket. “The last thing I want to do is anger a dragon when I’m responsible for your safety, and they don’t like incubi. I’m half surprised he didn’t attack me.”
“Naw, not with me protecting you.” She shot him a wink and resumed walking to the tent.
“Was that Edgetho?” Tarrick asked.
“Yep.”
Jet couldn’t be sure, but he thought he saw a flash of admiration cross the Warlord’s face.
“Know him?” Fate-Pebble asked.
“The dragons were all put to sleep before my time but…the warriors I grew up around had plenty of stories. Edgetho. The dragon queen’s enforcer. Her assassin. He’s—” Tarrick looked back at the magic barrier the dragon had disappeared through. “I wouldn’t want to face him in battle but I wouldn’t mind seeing him fight.”
“Oh my goddess, he was your childhood hero, wasn’t he?”
“I wouldn’t say—”
“He totally was!”
“He’s a dragon. My idols were all incubi.”
“Liar.”
He sighed. “If I concede that I had a fascination for his tales, will you let it go?”
“For now. He was number two, by the way.” Before he could respond, she called out, “Hi! We’re here.”
“Come in,” a frail-sounding female voice called back.
Jet entered with the others. The inside was cozy. A pile of furs in the corner served as a bed. Pots and jars lined every shelf, and some even hung from the ceiling along with wards made of sticks, stones, and feathers. The center had a cauldron, bubbling with a thick purple liquid.
A woman wearing a low-cut white flowing dress dipped a wrinkled finger into the liquid and brought it to her tongue. She seemed pleased by the taste.
Which was good.
No one wanted to be around an angry hag—a human witch so old, only magic sustained her. Over centuries, magic rotted their bodies and corrupted their minds.
Humans weren’t meant to live forever. Even those kept alive by other means—like vampire blood or an incubus’ energy—had an expiration date. Usually. Jet knew a few exceptions.
This witch wasn’t one of them. She existed on borrowed time.
Given the amount of magic rolling off her, her age probably rivaled Tarrick’s.
“An oracle, a shifted gargoyle, and an incubus warlord walk into the White Witch’s tent…sounds like the beginning of a bad joke,” the hag said. “From all accounts, Tarrick, you’re usually quite self-assured but you seem a little…out of sorts.”
Her wrinkled face tightened as she grinned.
Tarrick didn’t look amused. His square jaw grinding before he answered, “I’m baffled as to how a witch has managed to stay spitting distance from my current stronghold and I didn’t know about it. And why Warlord Thorne didn’t tell me.”
“She’s the third thing you didn’t know. I forgot to count her,” Fate-Pebble said, poking him in the side. “Also, Thorne doesn’t like you.”
Tarrick glanced at her then turned his attention back to the witch.
“Now that you know I’m here,” the hag started, “what do you plan to do about me?”
Tarrick looked around the tent, assessing the objects before answering. “A year ago? I would have forced you to register, then relocated you. But now? All I need to know is if you follow the Blood Prince, Malarath, or yourself?”
“Myself mostly. I dislike Malarath, even if he is pretty. And no one is really following the Blood Prince right now, they follow you.” Jet wasn’t totally sure what she meant, he hated politics, but the way Tarrick asked these questions made him think that it was possible the Warlord didn’t know she was a hag. He didn’t carry the same reverence of voice he used when talking to someone more powerful than him.
“How many dragons can I expect to come and go across my lands?”
Her eyes sparkled with amusement. “How many have you noticed so far?”
“So long as you’re not planning to hurt my hunters, attack me, or interfere with my operations, you can stay. I’ll send over a representative to discuss details.”
“How generous of you, Warlord.” Jet didn’t like the mocking tone of her voice, but neither Fate-Pebble nor Tarrick reacted to it. “And how can I help you three today?” she asked. “Potion? Spell? An enchantment?”
Fate-Pebble, who had been running her fingers over some rabbit pelts, stepped forward. “We’re here for a stone.” Jet looked at her. His stone needed a stone? Strange. “It’s for you, silly,” she said to him.
Was it? He had plenty of stones.
“Ah,” the hag said and hobbled to the back of the tent. She dug through the mess of items. “Here we go.”
She pulled out a wooden box and brought it over. Pushing junk to the floor, she cleared a spot on a standing pedestal table, set the box down, and opened it. When she turned it to Jet, his eyes widened.
Primal stones. Not old—primordial. They whispered to him, telling him stories of the planet before its seeding.
Tarrick leaned over and eyed them. He didn’t look impressed. That didn’t surprise Jet; they looked like an assortment of uninteresting grey and brown rocks.
Fate-Pebble nudged Jet. “Pick one.”
He looked at her.
“For the gift,” she said. “You have to get her a gift.”
Asper. Yes. She deserved a gift. What a wonderful i
dea. Jet pointed to a grey rock with white banding. Gneiss.
“Good choice.” The hag nodded her approval. “But pricy.”
Fate-Pebble looked at Tarrick. Jet, who had nothing of value on him, did the same. Tarrick didn’t look impressed. “It seems I’ll be bartering for the…rock.”
The hag brushed past Jet and Fate-Pebble. She ran a boney finger down Tarrick’s tie. “I was hoping that’d be the case. Stories of your virility are quite widespread, but rumor is that you don’t eat out much these days.”
Fleshlings were gross. When Fate-Pebble elbowed him hard in the torso, he realized he was making that face again.
Tarrick’s lips parted with a seductive smile, and he traced the back of the hag’s fingers with his. “None of the tales are exaggerated, I assure you, but tonight we have other business to attend to. Perhaps there is something else I could tempt you with?”
“No, it’s okay,” Fate-Pebble said. “You have thirty minutes.”
The edges of Tarrick’s blue eyes rimmed with purple for a fraction of a second before fading away.
“And Jet will owe you a favor,” she added.
He will? Jet didn’t like the idea of owing Tarrick anything. He knew what Tarrick could do with that.
The smile on Tarrick’s lips grew wider when he looked at Jet. “I’d have to hear it from him.”
Jet looked at the stone. Okay. He could give the incubus what he wanted. “One favor. But I will not sleep with you. And I will do nothing that harms my stones.”
“Agreed,” Tarrick said a little too quick for Jet’s liking. “Why don’t you two go wait outside?”
Good idea. Fate-Pebble would complain if they stayed, and Jet really didn’t want to see the old hag naked.
Fate-Pebble dug through a pile of random junk near the door and pulled out a four-foot sheet of metal that leaned. “I’m going to borrow this.”
The hag didn’t answer. Tarrick was whispering something in her ear as he slid out of his coat; her fingers already working his shirt buttons.
Jet made the face and went outside.
Fate-Pebble held the metal over her head and began to walk up a snow-covered slope. “It’s a good thing he’s a bigger slut than my father, huh?”
“What about Krampus?”
“Don’t worry. I’m working on it.”
Not quite sure of her meaning, Jet cocked his head, but she kept walking, ignoring him.
He went after her, upset that his pants were getting wetter.
At the top of the hill, Fate-Pebble put the metal down and sat on it. “You gotta push, then jump on once it gets moving.”
What was she doing?
“Come on,” she said. “Push!”
Unsure, Jet grabbed the back of the metal she sat on and gave it a shove. He had to scramble to jump onto the back and get into a seated position behind her. She threw her arms up into the air as the two of them went careening down the hill. She screamed with delight the whole way down, while Jet did his best to keep from falling off. They hit a bump and went flying, her forward and him back. They tumbled and slid to a stop.
Jet stood, but Fate-Pebble stayed lying down and began to wave her arm and legs, making an impression. There was a name for it…
“Snow angel,” she said, answering the unvoiced question. He sometimes wondered if she could hear the whispers of stones also since it was clear she could hear him. He considered asking if Fate had given her that ability but decided it wasn’t important.
Instead, he held his hand out to help her up. Her own hand felt like ice and she seemed more pale than normal. Cold didn’t bother vampires, but it still worried Jet.
Jet motioned for her to stay where she was while he went back to the tent. Moans from within.
Inside, two naked bodies writhed on the bedding. He ignored them the best he could as he crossed the cluttered tent, grabbed the Warlord’s coat and a fur pelt that wasn’t currently in use, and left.
The hag muttered something about gargoyles and the incubus told her to pay Jet no mind.
Outside, he handed the items to Fate-Pebble. She slipped on the coat without protest, then picked up the metal sheet and shook it. “Wanna go again?”
Not really, no.
“You’re no fun.” She dragged the metal under a tree. “Here, sit down.”
Jet sat cross-legged on the metal and she plopped down in his lap. He wrapped his big body around her and helped her straighten the draped fur.
“Wanna read the Warlord’s personal emails?” She pulled Tarrick’s phone from the coat pocket, typed in the password, and unlocked it. Navigating to the emails she began to read.
They were boring.
War stuff.
Nothing fun or scandalous.
Both he and Fate-Pebble were disappointed.
She abruptly locked the phone, slipped it back into the pocket, and stood.
Tarrick emerged from the tent, dressed, sans coat. His suit no longer had a speck of dirt on it. A parting gift from the hag no doubt. He came over and tossed the rock at Jet. Jet started to put it in his pocket, but Fate-Pebble grabbed it from him and instead put it in hers.
Jet wondered if that meant he wouldn’t be in this form much longer.
“Why does a vampire need my coat?” he asked.
She pulled it tighter around her. “It makes me warm.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“Technically you’re correct but Jet wanted me to be warm. He’s thoughtful.”
Tarrick held out his hand and she begrudgingly gave his coat back.
Slipping it on, he said, “Are we going after Krampus now or was there someone else you needed me to fuck tonight?”
“Nope, it’s Krampus time!” Fate-Pebble led the way out of the witch’s protective illusion.
Finally.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Jet stepped through the magic boundary that hid the witch’s house. In the darkness on the other side, the driver stood to attention, his eyes glowing green so he could see. He lit another flare.
“Sir, everything okay?” he asked.
“Yes. Let’s go,” Tarrick said.
“I am thankful for the rock,” Jet said. Everyone stopped walking and looked at him. “But I do apologize.”
“Apologize? For what?” Tarrick asked.
“That you had to lay with the witch.”
Tarrick looked at the illusion they’d crossed then back to Jet. “What did you see her as?”
“A crone. A hag.”
“Seriously?” Fate-Pebble asked. “She looked like she’s twenty. And she’s insanely pretty. How did I not know she’s a hag? I should have seen it…”
Tarrick ignored her. “How old is the hag?”
“At least your age,” Jet answered.
The incubus took a moment, as if processing something, then continued walking back to the SUV.
“Does it bother you that you had sex with her?” Fate-Pebble asked.
“No.”
“Ew. Really?”
“Really.”
Fate-Pebble kept looking up at him as if expecting more. She kept right beside him, inching in closer as they walked. Tarrick met her eyes. “You are worse than your sire sometimes.”
“Doubtful.”
He slipped his hands into his coat pockets. “It bothers me that she could probably cause Matthew to break a sweat—”
“Vampires don’t really sweat.”
“—and I haven’t secured her as an ally yet. It’s fortunate she seems to like me.”
“Ew,” Fate-Pebble repeated. Jet agreed with her assessment.
When they made it to the car, Tarrick had the driver bring them back to the fortress so they could all change. This time, Tarrick put on a compression suit under his clothes, and Fate-Pebble put on a coat, to better blend in with humans. With her help, Jet ended up in jeans and a polo shirt.
“Jeans never last long around us,” she said as she dressed him.
True.
She t
ook his new rock and placed it in Tarrick’s closet, with assurances that it would be safe in there, then they piled back into the SUV and drove into town.
Tarrick’s phone beeped and he checked it. “I’m sent a report each time my phone is accessed.”
Fate-Pebble shrugged. “Your password sucks. You should use the fingerprint scanner.”
“The scanners aren’t as secure as you’d think and my enemies likely have my fingerprints on file. I suppose I’ll have to use it now if I want my phone to be oracle-proof.”
“Nah, don’t bother. I won’t go into it again. For an incubus, your email is boring. You ever send out dick pics?”
“No.”
“You should send one to my father. He’d like that.”
Tarrick put his phone away. “Still don’t know where Krampus is?”
“I have some idea.” She looked at the driver. “Keep going around. Try residential areas.”
They drove around.
And around.
And around.
Jet didn’t mind. He enjoyed watching the passing scenery. Streetlamps made the snow shine, and the buildings were tall enough—though he preferred taller.
“It’s been an hour, Oracle…”
“I’m working on it. Fate doesn’t give me everything, you know. Just pieces.”
Jet caught the faint scent of oily death. “Krampus is close.”
“He sure is,” Fate-Pebble said.
Tarrick sighed. “Do you want to talk about the real reason we’re here tonight?”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
He crossed his arms. “Oracle, I know there’s no Krampus.”
“Yes, there is. Jet’s picked up the scent.”
“Oracle…”
Fate-Pebble scrunched her face. “It’s just…I don’t understand why you won’t go see my father.”
“Why should I? He’s being cared for by the vampires he’s so fond of, and his guardian lover. I have a civil war to run. I can’t spare the time to babysit someone who doesn’t even know who they are right now.”
“No.”
Tarrick lifted an eyebrow. “No?”
She swiveled her seat to face him. “No. Try again.”
“Are you attempting to intimidate me?”