Her current legion of fans were young, black-clad goths who, for some reason, seemed to think she was a vampire. Almost nothing could have been further from the truth, but I was willing to bet that they’d gotten the idea from her.
I have to admit the goths came in handy sometimes, like when they made pancakes for breakfast. I piled three onto my plate, sitting across from Lynn at the table. “Would you pass me the syrup, Elvira.” I grinned at her. She hid her own half-smile. Messing with her when her followers were around was one of my favorite pastimes. The goths, a girl and boy with heavy black makeup, both glared at me. “Oh, sorry,” I told them. “Oh Black Mistress of the Night, will you slide the syrup this way, please.” She slid it to me, and I drenched my pancakes. I was a notoriously healthy eater, but I could comfort eat with the best of them, on a really shitty day. This certainly qualified.
“The bed started it?” she finally asked.
“Don’t wanna talk about it.” I dug into the food.
“You have any training appointments today?” she asked as I ate.
“Two,” I said with my mouth full. It’s not that I don’t have table manners. I just didn’t always choose to use them. “First one is Christian.” I was a very expensive personal trainer for a few days out of the week.
“Nice. Tell him I said hi. I’m having lunch with him sometime this week.”
I nodded that I would. “I need a jump for my car,” I mentioned. My beloved Dodge Challenger had barely gotten me home last night. I had been passed out in it on the side of the road, my lights left on, for most of the night.
She nodded to the girl goth. “Sorrow can give you a jump.” I tried my hardest not to smirk when I heard her name, but failed. I shoveled more pancakes into my mouth to hide it. “Thanks,” I mumbled around my food.
I finished eating and pushed back from the table. “Give me ten minutes, Sorrow.” I managed to only half-smirk as I said her name.
I showered quickly, throwing on some black workout clothes. I managed to get through my whole morning routine without looking at my bed again. I smoothed my curly hair into a tight ponytail. Just when I had it tied off, tiny curls escaped to cascade around my face. Ick. I tried again, with the same results. Being used to hair that did what I wanted, I gave up quickly. Christian would make fun of it, but I could hardly blame him.
I was pleased to find my car already jumped and running when I came outside. I smiled and thanked Sorrow. “Your mistress can’t come out in the sunlight?” I asked her.
“I am old enough to stand the sun, if I am adequately covered,” Lynn spoke from the doorway of the house. I turned to her, and had to choke back a laugh. She wore thick black sunglasses, and a black scarf over her face. She was clad in her usual black leather, gloves and all, despite the heat. What got me, though, was the lacy black parasol her other follower was holding over her head. I rolled my eyes at her laughingly before I put on my own shades.
She nodded to my car. Country music drifted out from a preset station on my radio. “Nice music,” she said, smirking at me. I stuck my tongue out at her. “Nice parasol, Queen of the Damned,” I shot back. Yes, I liked country music. I used to hide my guilty pleasure, but I’d given up a while back. All I have to say is, Garth is a gateway drug.
I climbed into the driver’s seat and rolled down my window. “I’ll call you if anything else develops with the situation we discussed earlier.” She nodded, and I waved as I drove away.
Christian lived in one of the expensive gated communities up on sunrise mountain. He lived in a mini-mansion. It was a thirty-minute drive from my place, in good traffic. His house was big and luxurious, and there was no way his cop’s paycheck could cover such a decedent house. Luckily, he had an inheritance the size of Nevada that more than covered such things. It was also how he could afford my pricey skills, though he had been a friend for far longer than he’d been a client.
His colossal inheritance also helped to support his favorite pastime. Paranoia. There were many reasons why Lynn and I found him so easy to get along with, one being that he was the most devout member of my paranoid congregation. His security systems were advanced and intricate. I had to use fingerprints, eye scans, and three different key code entries to gain access to his fortress of a home. And that was all before I got to the front door. I couldn’t really blame him for going to these extremes. Some exceedingly dangerous creatures wanted him dead, or worse, entranced into a devoted slave.
I was shielding hard as I knocked on his heavy front door, though it was only a courtesy. I didn’t want to give his neighbors anything to talk about. When people saw a battered woman, they tended to blame whatever man they saw her with. When he didn’t bother to answer, I just used my key. “You’re gonna have to try harder than that to get out of a workout, candy ass,” I called out, entering his huge marble entryway. His house was decorated like a lush desert palace, all stone and marble, in desert hues of tan and brown. I made my way to the coat closet that housed his shoes.
A pair of hot pink, five inch stilettos were perched at the top of his shoe pile. He had the same house rule as us about shoes. No shoes past the entryway. I would actually have to remove my running shoes, carry them to his gym, then put them back on.
I tossed my gym bag into the closet, slamming it shut. Not this again, I thought.
I heard a shower running in the background and rolled my eyes. He’d better not make me wait while he messes around, I swore. But a riled up brunette strode into the entryway a moment later, giving me a ‘go die in a fire’ kind of look. She eyed me up in my workout getup. My black sports bra and matching skintight micro shorts weren’t improving her mood. I gave her a friendly smile, though I was too irritated to really be feeling it. I was just trying to play nice, since this little scene wasn’t her idea. Yep, that’s me, Miss Congeniality. “Hi, I’m Christian’s personal trainer,” I tried.
She wasn’t having it. She curled her lip at me, planting her hands on her hips. “A personal trainer with a key?” Her tone was nasty. She was jealous. He’d probably kicked her out of bed when he heard the doorbell. He needed a talking to. This happened way too often. The irony was, I was the last person on earth she needed to worry about with Christian. The rest of the female population was a different story. The man was a slut.
I shrugged at her, my smile only slightly less friendly. “We’re old friends. He’s like the little brother I never wanted.”
She just glared as she collected her shoes and bag, then gave me a considering look as she let herself out. Boy, was that routine getting old. I’d almost swear that Christian was using our training sessions to blow off his dates… I made a note to give him some hell about it.
I made my way to his impressive personal gym, and started warming up. My sessions with Christian were the only ones I actually looked forward to. No one else gave me a real workout.
I was abusing his punching bag when he finally joined me. I stopped working, giving him a nod. It was easy to see what had the ladies so jealous. He had unruly, shoulder-length, dirty blond hair. His eyes were a pale sky blue and always had a twinkle in them. His features were even and perfect. He was also well over six foot and built. He looked like a nordic god. Ironically, he looked like my favorite brother, Sven. Add to all of that his perfect white teeth, always shaping into a mischievous smile, and he was one hell of a catch. I could see all of the attraction. I just couldn’t feel it. Not even a little bit. He had full brother vibe for me. He grinned at me. He pointed at my head. “Did you get a perm?”
I gave him a glare and tried to mean it. “Those little goodbye scenes are getting a little old for me.”
He shrugged and smiled, looking far more harmless than he was. “Sorry ‘bout that, but I’ve found that most women leave it alone once they take a look at you.” His british accent was very faint after all of his years in America. It was just the slightest clip now.
“Pussy,” I taunted him. “Just be honest with them.”
The P-wo
rd made his eyes narrow. “I am, actually. I always have been. It doesn’t seem to be enough anymore. Women are getting pushier and pushier. But I’ve found that seeing another woman, especially one that they don’t think they can compete with, makes them back off, as a rule.”
“So reject them, then demoralize them. That’s heartwarming. Maybe you should just settle down. Then you wouldn’t have to worry about so many of them,” I told him, half-serious.
He raised his brows at me. “Relationship advice from the infamous Jillian?” he asked archly. It was a low blow, and we both knew it.
I gave him a roundhouse kick to the chest, and he went flying. Normally, he would have been back up in a second, but my flimsy glamour had dropped when I made contact, and he was busy studying my bruised up body. Shielding and glamour weren’t my strengths, to be sure.
“What the bloody hell?” he finally asked, his accent more pronounced.
I shrugged at him. “I had a bad day yesterday.”
“Anything you need help with?”
“I’ll let you know.”
“I’d love to see the other guy.”
“You’d find yourself disappointed.” I was vaguely embarrassed to admit it.
“Really.” His voice was soft now. It was a deceptive tone. I saw the sudden glint of temper in his eyes. I had no trouble imagining what he wanted to do to ‘the other guy.’ “That sounds ominous. You really aren’t going to tell me what happened?”
I shrugged and waved him up. “Maybe later. Right now, I’d rather beat you up some more.”
He stood up, but hesitated. “You sure you’re up to it? You must be in pretty bad shape if that hasn’t healed.”
“Actually, the bruising’s not as painful as the spell I’ve put on myself to keep from healing,” I admitted.
His brows disappeared under his unruly bangs. “This just gets more and more interesting. Is there something I can bribe you with to get you to spill the beans?”
“Maybe later. At the moment, I want you to quit slacking and fight.”
He obliged me, taking me to the floor pretty easily. He probably had a good point. If I went down so easily, I probably shouldn’t push it. But pushing myself physically had always helped with this pesky rage problem I had. It helped me to focus, and focusing kept it in check.
He was straddling my waist, holding my hands trapped tightly above my head. “You must be in bad shape, girl. I felt almost guilty taking you down -”
I bucked him off, freeing my right hand and landing a blow to his stomach that left him breathless. I rolled to my feet and waved him up.
We were well-matched in strength and speed. Our styles were even similar. Which was understandable, since I had been training him for years. I’d trained him to fight in the style I had been working on for centuries, that utilized the strength and speed of an immortal. Christian had always kept up remarkably well, all things considered. Of course, he wasn’t human.
Christian descended from a long line of English dragonslayers. They were the only things on earth that could actually kill dragons. It made them targets to the monsters. Thus, Christian’s paranoia. How crazy did you have to be to help train the only thing on earth that could kill you? Yeah, about that crazy. I was banking a whole hell of a lot on that old saying, ‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend.’
CHAPTER FIVE
Touche
For better or worse, the only thing more rare than dragonslayers were dragons themselves, so Christian found himself raised in a time where his very specialized skills were nearly obsolete. He still carried around his neck the family weapon that was named appropriately, Dragonsbane. At the moment it looked like a tiny but intricate knife. But in his hands it could take any shape he required. I’d tried for years to get the details of what power a slayer held over dragons, and what power the blade specifically held, but he kept his ancestor’s secrets hidden well for the most part. Once he’d gotten drunk and told me that all of the mountains in the world were just sleeping dragons. That’s when I’d known that a drunk Christian was no place to get information.
Dragonslayers themselves, though long lived, were not immortal. A five hundred year lifespan isn’t a bad deal either, though. And if they could get their hands on some dragon’s blood to drink, the possibilities were endless.
Christian himself was a young slayer. We’d never talked about it, but I didn’t think he was older than his forties. He didn’t look it, of course. He knew I was older than him, but the actual truth would have shocked him. He had always assumed Lynn and I were exceptionally powerful fire sorcerers. I encouraged the assumption. Some secrets are best kept even from the closest of friends. Our friendship with Christian, for obvious reasons, unquestionably required it.
We began to fight in earnest. I did pretty well, all things considered, but I could tell he was taking it easy on me.
“You know, you can hardly complain,” he panted at me. He was across the room, since I had thrown him there. “If we were to compare notes on who has taken more shit from the other’s love life, I’m well ahead of you, dear.” He gave me a half smile to soften the blow, but it still landed solidly.
“Touché,” I said softly, stung. It was very true. When I had left Dom seven years ago, Christian had been tortured for information. He hadn’t revealed one thing to them, and he’d known plenty. “I did tell you to lay low for awhile.” I tried to sound lighthearted, but didn’t manage. I knew Christian was long over it, but I wasn’t.
He shrugged. “I’m not scared of the druids. Actually, the bastards had the nerve to contact me recently.”
His revelation surprised me enough to get me pinned face first to the ground while my mind worked the ramifications out. “When was that?” I panted.
“A few weeks ago. I guess they suspect that the necros have recruited a few new created Others to their cause. Same old shit that’s been going on forever.” I struggled hard, but couldn’t budge him. He continued talking, as though he didn’t even notice my struggles. “That age-old debate between the Born and the Created. Sounds as if hostilities have escalated, though. Druids are putting together a team to move in on one of the necro settlements, fry up some of their half-dead asses. They’re gonna make an example. They wanted to know if I wanted in on the action. Cheeky blokes. They thought I’d be tempted by the carnage of an all out brawl.”
“Does kind of sound like a good time.” Panting, I finally threw him off.
“Yeah, I thought so. I agreed to help them,” he said, shocking me and effectively ending our session.
“Ok, lift more weights after I leave, candy ass. Training’s over for today.”
I made our usual after workout shakes. He didn’t notice when I put a drop of my blood into his glass. How crazy do you have to be to feed your blood to the only thing on earth that can kill you, in order to prolong it’s life, and make it stronger? Yeah, about that crazy.
I brought two glasses to the table, handing him one. I went to grab some napkins, and as I turned back, I would have sworn he was checking out my ass. “Were you just checking out my ass?” I was a little baffled that I even had to ask.
“Yes.” He took a drink of my less than tasty concoction.
I wrinkled my nose at him. “Why?”
His eyes were pointing at my chest now. “It still just baffles me, even after all these years. Looks-wise, you’re my ideal.”
“Me and every other woman in the state,” I agreed dryly.
He shrugged. “But there is no attraction. Zero. I guess I’ll just never understand it. There are women I know, that I can’t stand to talk to, that aren’t half as good-looking as you, and I’d still screw ‘em. What the bloody hell? You know, it would be convenient, if we could like each other like that. They say good friends make the best lovers.”
I burst out laughing, and couldn’t stop for a solid five minutes. He looked insulted, but eventually started grinning. “Just think of us as blood relations,” I explained to him. There was, of cou
rse, a very logical answer to the question he was asking, but I’d never be the one to tell him what it was. Not willingly. “Or a cat and a dog. It just ain’t right, so leave it at that.”
His sardonic look told me from experience that he was agreeing with me. “Fine. So tell me who worked you over?”
I groaned. “It’s a mess.”
“Tell me.”
“Mav and Michael did it. Some witch-hag turned us in for a reward to the druids. She told them about our shop. Those two showed up, as shocked to see me as I was to see them. I let them work me over.”
He looked about as surprised as I’d ever seen him. “The bastards actually fell for that?” he sputtered, half choking back a laugh. It never took Christian long to figure out a punch line. Well…almost never. “My god, Dom is gonna kill them if he finds out. And they’ll deserve it, for being such idiots.”
I gave him a half-smile. “They were never the brains of the operation. But yeah, things have gotten messy, so I bought us a little time. Time will tell if it was worth the blow to my pride. Something is going on with Lynn, too. Not sure what, though. She had a shiner this morning.”
“Sounds like you guys need a safe house. I have a few around town. All that is mine is at your disposal.”
I inclined my head in thanks. “I’ll let you know if we do. Gonna play it by ear. Everything might turn out fine.”
“Oh, shit! I almost forgot to tell you. Since we’re on the subject of strange happenings. My sources tell me that the druid Council is negotiating a meeting with the dragons. And it’s here! In bloody Las Vegas!” His eyes were shinning with anticipation as he spoke. This was about as excited as I’d ever seen him. “Gives me a slayer hard-on, to tell you the truth. I’m half-tempted to ambush one of them. Though it’s an interesting move, considering the druids were just asking me for help, don’t you think? Not sure I can be in the same city with a dragon without letting my instincts take over.” He was grinning, and he did not look harmless now.
Breathing Fire (Heretic Daughters) Page 3