Bitten By Deceit

by Shawntelle Madison

  Yet a trail of smoke from a slanting chimney told a different tale. Something lived here. And that something had the scent of the intruder who took my package.

  His sneaky butt was mine to chew out—when I learned how to get in.

  I shouted instead.

  “Whoever took my package needs to show themselves. Now.”

  Silence.

  “You know, you just can’t take what doesn’t belong to you.”

  Would it be sad to admit I stood there for a few minutes before I mustered the courage to get really pissed off? How long had it been since I’d showed another supernatural creature who was boss? A few months? Over a year?

  “I’m going to give you ten seconds to come out before I rip off your door—or whatever constitutes your door—and shove it down your throat,” I belted out. “You know what I am and what I’m willing to do.”

  One of the thick sheets of metal creaked the slightest bit and parted, revealing three pairs of glowing eyes in the darkness.

  Should I huff and puff to blow the three little piggies house down?

  “You might as well come out.” I took a confident step forward, even though my heels wobbled a bit in the soft dirt.

  The doorway opened even further, and a scaly hand as brown as the mud around me appeared. The four fingered-claw was deceptive though. Something far larger attached to that hand emerged, or should I say, attempted to squeeze itself through the door.

  Three heads came first. Very slowly. Its body was brown and thick, snakelike with tiny arms and legs attached. For several sections, the tiny arms dragged out. My mighty foe stopped twice to catch its breath—via two of the three heads. Based on what I could see, since it’s rear end was still inside it’s home, it was about the size of a giraffe. Something about this creature tugged at my memories until everything clicked. My grandma had told me about such things from her homeland. Even Bill had mentioned a dragon or two had stopped by the store. None of the zmee, or Russian dragons, Grandma had mentioned looked like this one. This pudgy zmee had a better chance of taking down a pizza delivery man than a light-footed werewolf.

  It didn’t take long before I realized this couldn’t be the creature that took my package. So what the hell was going on?

  “What do you want, Wolf?” Its third head gasped out the words. Evidently, leaving its dwelling had overwhelmed it. The second head was fast asleep, while the first one stared me down with all the fierceness it could muster. A bit of smoke drifted from its nostrils but not enough to even send a smoke signal.

  “You know what I want. There’s no need for us to dance around the conversation,” I replied.

  The oak tree above us rustled. My head whipped up, and I scanned the tree line. Nothing moved, so I used my nose. Something new had closed in to spy on us. Now that scent was familiar. That creature was my target.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the first head said. “This is private property. I have no quarrels with the South Toms River pack, so I suggest you take your threat somewhere else.”

  This zmee was hiding something, so I decided to play its game for a little while. Maybe the first and third head would get tired like the second and give up.

  “So you weren’t on my property this morning? Even though I tracked a particular scent stinking of earth magic to this very place?”

  The third head did what could be considered a shrug with a slight grin. “Even if you did have a good enough nose to come find me, what makes you think you can take it back? It rightfully belongs to me.”

  So there it is. That sneaky little bastard was the other bidder, and he thought that he deserved the prize. We’d clashed back and forth online, with one person making a bid, and then the other one immediately making a counter bid. At first, I thought when I’d made a bid of around $200 that the other zealous bidder would back off, but based on all the clutter I saw, I had a worthy opponent who was just as eager as I was to own the figurine.

  “I’ve been waiting nine years for that kobold to sell that thing. Hours and hours of research.” He gestured upwards. “Nine months to get that nymph up there to go down to the local Quick Trip and use a payphone to get that conniving house sprite to auction it off.”

  Even if I did have him to thank for the win, I still got it fair and square. I also paid for it. “Well, thank you very much,” I said. “Now give me back what I bought.”

  Above us, the branches rustled. My gaze drifted to the lithe, yet pale woman who sat on the tree above. She must be the guardian for this area. She didn’t have on a stitch of clothing, yet she appeared comfortable with the light breeze.

  The zmee tried to slide forward, but failed miserably. Then the third head jabbed the second with its snout until it woke up. With a grunt and barely an eye open, the second head inhaled to breathe out fire only to choke on its own pitiful smoke.

  “You can’t do anything right,” the first spat at the third.

  The third head snapped at the first. “At least I do something. And I happen to be awake.”

  The fight grew fierce as the second head, most certainly offended by what the third one said, bit down on its ear. “You dirty bastard.”

  “Takes one to know one!”

  “Fuck you.”

  “You’re so full of it. Why not scare her off with your fire-breathing skills?”

  One body with three heads bitching at each other was a sight. I watched with amusement, wishing for some popcorn. I never got this kind of entertainment at work.

  The heads finally noticed I was still standing there. Then they made a rude gesture: they flipped me off.

  The third head said, “Why don’t you come take it from me, Wolf? I only see you and me—an even fight.”

  I folded my arms over my chest. “If you fought me, you’d die from exhaustion.”

  The zmee snorted. “I’ve been alive for thousands of years. Talk is cheap, and so are your brand name shoes.”

  There went my sorry-ass bluff. Damn it.

  A wolf would never walk away from a situation like this. Especially if an overweight, barely smoke-breathing dragon tried to sass them.

  My fingers twitched, and the wolf inside whined from indecision. There had to be a way to solve this without fighting him. But then again, the dragon couldn’t go anywhere anyway.

  I searched through my purse until I found a set of matches. Since I often enjoyed a warm fireplace in the evening, matches came in handy. I waltzed over to a generous patch of dead grass near the tree.

  “You wouldn’t dare,” the nymph screeched from above.

  Now I didn’t need to tell them I wouldn’t set the tree on fire, but I saw no reason why I couldn’t push my point. I struck a match and waved it close to the ground. With a good breeze going through this area, the grass would burn quickly. The thick oak would be next. The nymph slid down from her high perch but stopped on a lower-lying branch. She was tiny, no match for me in werewolf form.

  Now irate and angry, she spat curses to the zmee in a tongue I didn’t understand. Perhaps his lack of mobility was a bit of a sore point between the two.

  The zmee sputtered in my direction. “I didn’t plan on keeping it. I only wanted some codes off them.”

  My eyebrow rose, and I blew out the match. “Codes? What are you talking about?”

  “Codes that lead to a huge fortune—waiting to be taken. That figurine is special. Right after the Millstadt woman killed her husband with it, two warlock brothers bought it from the original estate.”

  Given my wry expression, I was sure he could tell I wasn’t convinced. The second head had fallen asleep, again, but the first became animated. “It’s all true. Over the past century, Vladimir and Nikolai have fought over their family fortune. They hid pieces of it from each other. Not too long ago, their feud got heated and one brother killed the other. It was gruesome, actually—”

  “—get to the point.” Although he did have my attention—slightly. I was curious since their names sounded Russian
.

  “Oh, yes, the surviving brother thought his sibling’s hidden stash was lost and gone forever—until he discovered that his brother, who was a metalsmith and sculptor, left behind codes on vases, figurines, and jewelry boxes. Pretty much on everything he collected. These codes have to be a message about where the money is hidden. Skeptics say it’s just a leprechaun scam. But I’ve got a few codes, so I know there are more. I’m going to get them all.”

  After listening to the zmee’s story, I felt kind of sorry for him. What did this guy have to do to finance his code-hunting operation? An operation which most likely was a fruitless one.

  “Why don’t you march—umm—slide back into your little house, get my property, scribble down your little codes, and then give it back.” See? I could be nice when I tried.

  “Now?”

  My chest tightened as my anxiety rose. “No. Yesterday evening.”

  The first head’s voice turned into a whine. “I can’t do it that fast. The codes are microscopic and hidden under glamours. They’d require hours with my equipment.”

  “Well, I paid for it, and I’m not waiting here a few hours for you to do a full body cavity search on my prize.”

  “I’m more than willing to barter for time with the Millstadt figurine.”

  As if he had anything that would interest me in this dump.

  “Miss Stravinsky.” I raised my eyebrow at the zmee, and he cocked one of his heads. “I’ve seen your username on the supernatural auction websites. I know what you like. I’m sure you’d like something in my collection.”

  My mouth moved before my common sense kicked in. “Whatcha got?”

  For the next couple of minutes, the zmee did an awkward backward movement to get into its house. The urge to offer a push felt like the most polite thing I could do, but who in their right mind got up close and personal with a three-headed dragon to shove it into its house?

  Eventually, the dragon got inside his home, and I heard him rummaging around for several minutes. Above me, the nymph continued to sit in the same spot, her hate projected at me like poison-tipped arrows. Still not over me threatening to burn down her tree, eh? Let her stew for now, she’d get an apology before I left. It was the least I could do.

  Eventually, the dragon reemerged and stretched out in front of me again. Slowly, it opened the palm of one of its many hands. Two items lay in the middle. The first item, a papier-mâché boy, looked pretty good. Not a holiday trinket by any means, but the craftsmanship was top notch. The piece didn’t have any scratches and the painted face was done with a steady hand. Very nice.

  But the one on the left, another wooden figure, made me almost squeal with delight. A beautiful nutcracker, in pristine condition, wore a set of hand-sewn clothes. My antiquarian eye told me he had to be over a hundred years old. Tufts of white hair on his head matched his beard. With his massive chompers, the figurine grinned mischievously at me, and I couldn’t help but return the gesture.

  He was so perfect. I reached out to touch it.

  But the zmee pulled its hand back. “There’s something else I need—if you want something as valuable as this nutcracker.”

  “Keep talking.” He could ask for my salary this month, and I’d probably give it up. Goodness gracious, that nutcracker was gorgeous. A perfect addition to my collection. The papier-mâché boy was just a bonus.

  “I’d like another set of codes. They’re engraved on the outside of an antique compass, circa 1713. The owner won’t let me near them, and I can’t sneak in to take a high resolution photo.”

  This started to smell fishy. What kept him from buying the compass?

  “Where is this owner?”

  “About two hours west of here. In a lumber mill. It’s not hard to find at all since it’s in a display case in the main building.” He shrugged as if anybody could march up to a workplace unseen and snap a bunch of pictures.

  “So no stealing? Just photos.”

  “Yes, but with my special camera, of course.”

  For a second, I almost said no. But I couldn’t help obsessing about the giddy feeling I got when I almost touched the nutcracker’s coat. How soft it appeared. How clean. I had to have it. With a voice that trembled at first, I replied, “As long as you keep your part of the bargain, I’ll be back.”

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  Shawntelle Madison is a Web developer who loves to weave words as well as code. She’d be reluctant to admit it, but if pressed, she’d say that she covets and collects source code. After losing her first summer job detassling corn, Madison performed various jobs, from fast-food clerk to grunt programmer to university webmaster. Writing eccentric characters is her favorite job of all. On any given day when she’s not surgically attached to her computer, she can be found watching cheesy horror movies or the latest action-packed anime. Shawntelle Madison lives in Missouri with her husband and children.

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  Check out Shawntelle’s Other Titles

  Coveted

  Kept (A Coveted Novel)

  Collected