The Haunted Onsen

by Phil Gabriel

  Sliding sideways to escape her embrace, I used the protocols to distract her and said, “I have a gift for you.”

  She had been stepping closer, but stopped suddenly and clapped her hands together—a girlish gesture, except for the thunderclap sound and the spurt of flames from her palms. “A gift? For me? How sweet!”

  Watching her face carefully, I opened my satchel and reached deep to extract the gold ingot I’d brought along. She showed no trace of fear as my hand slid out of sight, putting many deadly weapons within my grasp.

  Grunting with effort, I pulled the ingot out of my satchel and held it towards her on the palms of my hands. It was very heavy and very valuable. Roughly five hundred thousand dollars on the market.

  “Oh!” she said in a voice full of delight as she saw the gift.

  “A housewarming gift for you,” I said. “Given freely and with no expectation of return.”

  She licked her lips with a forked tongue and I felt a wave of heat come from her form. She stepped over and plucked the gold brick from my hands, handling the ingot as if it were made of paper.

  “Thank you for choosing the perfect gift,” she said, then continued in a conspiratorial whisper, “You know that sword wouldn’t have worked.”

  “The thought of using my sword to attack my host was never an option,” I said, relieved she had not seen the .45.

  Holding the gold bar in one hand, she reached for my hand and tugged me away from my spot near the wall. Her touch was warm, but not hot, temperature slightly higher than human. The strength of her grip was much more than human, but she was gentle.

  I followed her through a series of caves—yes, caves; we were no longer in the physical world, and this reality warped at her whims.

  After a few twists and turns that were impossible for the human mind to comprehend, we continued walking past openings in the cave wall that looked out on different scenes from the mundane world. I caught a glimpse of the Louvre, then the Colosseum, then a look out of a window to a seascape I recognized instantly, the shore of the tiny island off the coast of Sardinia that held my abandoned castle. Ashley urged me on, and I tore my eyes away from my former home.

  The next opening looked into my New York office. Ms. Cappuccetto was bent over my desk, rearranging papers and dusting. Her maid’s uniform was immaculate, the skirt stopping precisely four inches above her knee.

  On a whim, I sent a blast of air to lift her skirt up, revealing her garter belt and stockings, with no panties. A natural redhead. She jumped to attention and pulled her skirt down, looking around the office as if she had seen a ghost.

  “Uniform inspection,” I said through the door. She jumped again, unable to determine where the voice was coming from.

  The dragon had stopped and was looking through the door with me. She said, “You will have to be careful around red women, Scott.”

  “Why?” I asked, then bit my tongue. I didn’t want to know anything about the future.

  Ashley tilted her pretty head and gazed at me through slit pupils, deciding if answering a question would fit into her plans or not.

  “Women in red are going to cause you a lot of trouble in the future,” she said.

  Great. That was the problem with prophecy. A little hint isn’t enough, and too many details can ruin your life.

  “Says the redheaded dragon leading me to her lair,” I said.

  “It’s not a lair,” she said, “it’s just my room.”

  She turned into her boudoir, pulling me along. It was at that moment I realized all the openings we had passed, each to a different part of the globe, had opened into a daylight scene. Were those portals through time as well as space? Compared to the power needed for actual time portals, my quantum entangled communications links were like toys cars compared to Formula 1 racers.

  Ashley’s room was light and airy, with light coming from no discernible source. There was a series of cubbyholes carved out of the rock, each holding a treasure of unimaginable value. I glimpsed a familiar brass lamp, a perfect sphere of pure diamond in which glimpses of futures could be seen, and swords and talismans of every type. Other cubbyholes held piles of precious gemstones: rubies, emeralds, sapphires, and diamonds larger than my fist. A Wurlitzer jukebox from the fifties sat in a corner, lights on and ready to play.

  I spied a samurai helm and felt the tug on the mystic link that the ghost had provided. This was the missing helmet that had once belonged to the ghost samurai. Had Ashley brought me down here to tease me with how close she could get me to obtaining my goal?

  She noticed my interest in the samurai helm and asked, “Does that object interest you?”

  Instead of answering, I asked in turn, “Shouldn’t the Dragon Protector of Lake Ashi use her power to eliminate the danger posed by a samurai onryō?”

  She crossed her arms and tilted her head, obviously judging how much she could say. “There are reasons we don’t interfere in these affairs.”

  “You could save a lot of people,” I said. Including me.

  She made a moue of concentration, then said, “I could no more interfere than you would take a magical .45 automatic to a kindergarten class to stop a fight between toddlers.”

  So much for keeping my .45 a secret. It might have worked against her—I had faith that my god-killer round would work even against a dragon—but using it would be suicidal.

  In any case, she didn’t seem opposed to getting rid of the onryō. She just seemed to be blocked from taking direct action. Damn demigods.

  I walked around the room, checking the other potent objects she had strewn around as lightly as a teenage girl would throw stuffed animals. My gaze was stopped by an object of immense power. It was about the size and shape of a cut-in-half basketball, but was composed of pure gold. The gold contained an ever-changing pattern of glyphs, almost too small to be seen. In the human visual range, it was splendidly beautiful. In the magical visual range, it blazed with power and potential.

  Oh, the spells I could weave using the tiniest part of this, the artifacts I could fashion, the people I could save, I thought. My palms itched with the urge to grab it and run. It had been a long time since I had had the urge to steal. I stomped on the urge; only an idiot would take from a dragon’s horde. They were notorious for their protectiveness of their treasures.

  As if she could read my thoughts, Ashley said, “Very pretty, isn’t it?”

  “Beautiful,” I said, unable to tear my gaze away.

  “It has a lot of sentimental value,” she said.

  “You’ve had it a long time?”

  “Since before I was born,” she said.

  “How could you have had this before you were born...” I said. Then in a rush, “This is your eggshell!”

  “Very clever, human,” she said. “Do you know anything about dragon reproduction?” She moved over to a small table and sat in one of the two chairs, setting the gold bar down with a thunk.

  “Is this one of those things that will ruin my life if I know it?” I asked, then moved to sit on the chair across from her.

  Again, she looked at me with the time-piercing gaze. “No,” she said. “In fact, it might help you in the future.”

  “OK, Ashley,” I said, “tell me about the birds and bees.”

  She looked at me for a few more seconds before saying, “It’s more dragons and drakes than birds and bees.”

  She gestured at me to sit then continued, “You don’t seem the type to enjoy tea.” She waved a hand, and a wine bottle and two large wineglasses appeared on the table.

  I picked the bottle up and examined it carefully. I had to be careful about drinking here. The last time I had accepted a bottle from a demigod, it had included a prophecy, one that still hadn’t come true. This bottle seemed normal, a Valpolicella Rosso. I raised an eyebrow at Ashley.

  “Strictly mundane, I assure you,” she said.

  I reached into my satchel and pulled out a corkscrew. In a few seconds, both glasses were topped off and
ready.

  “Are you old enough to drink?” I asked before touching my glass.

  She giggled, showing dimples. “I’m more than old enough to drink,” she said.

  I picked up my glass and inhaled the aroma of the fine Italian wine. I debated the consequences of drinking with a dragon. The jukebox turned on, a record lifted to the turntable, and the strains of an old Jimmy Buffet song, “It’s Five O’Clock Somewhere,” came out. I felt an invisible kiss on my cheek, and an ocean-scented breeze cooled my brow. Euterpe was still with me.

  “One of my favorite drinking songs,” I said, raising my glass in a toast.

  Ashley’s gaze zipped back and forth between me and the jukebox. “I didn’t cause that!” she said. “What did you do?”

  Apparently, she didn’t know about Euterpe, the ghost muse that followed me around, giving hints of prophecy through music. Even if I told her about Euterpe, she probably wouldn’t believe me. Kitty-Sue and Akiko didn’t believe because they couldn’t see or hear her.

  “I didn’t do anything,” I said. She fixed me with her time-piercing gaze but gave up when she couldn’t tell if I was lying.

  She picked up her glass and gazed at me over the rim. She took a sip and said, “Grandfather warned me about magicians. He told me you were full of tricks.”

  I sipped the wine and smiled, desperately trying to look enigmatic. After the casual display of power she had shown with those portals, it was nice to know there were things she didn’t understand.

  Ashley set the glass down and walked over to the jukebox and punched the buttons, stopping the song. I noticed when she was upset, the nails of her fingers elongated into talons, making punching the buttons difficult for her. She made her selection and walked back to the table. As she sat and picked up her glass, another song started. This time it was Peter, Paul, and Mary’s “Puff, The Magic Dragon.”

  With a glare at me, she said, “I hate that song. It’s not even on the playlist.” The heat from her flame-wreathed form increased and the wine in her glass started to bubble and boil. Her talons were growing longer and longer.

  I sent a silent prayer to Euterpe to avoid pissing off the immensely powerful dragon. The song abruptly finished and another record came up. This time the jukebox played “Dragons are Real” by Magnum.

  The wave of heat ceased and a cool breeze touched my sweating face. Ashley set the glass down, and her nails returned to normal length. I breathed a silent sigh of relief.

  “Cute trick, magician,” she said. “I can’t tell how you did that.”

  Ignoring the implied question, I said, “Would you like me to refill your glass?”

  At her nod, I dumped her still steaming glass of wine and refilled it from the bottle.

  “So,” I said, “you were going to tell me about dragon reproduction?”

  Sipping the fresh wine, she nodded and said, “We have a complex life cycle.” Pointing to her eggshell, she said, “We start as eggs; are born as humans; then, when ready, shed our human skins to become adolescent dragons.”

  “So, the human form you now wear is what you looked like before adulthood?” I asked. Looking at her flame engulfed breasts, I continued, “That explains why an egg-bearing species has mammary glands.”

  She smiled, just enough to show she still had fangs, then the flames over her chest parted, showing her assets for a moment. Then the flames returned.

  Something was tickling my mind. Something about the way she held her glass, pushed the buttons on the jukebox, and pointed. I studied her hands for a few minutes as we chatted before I realized that her first and middle fingers moved together, as did her ring and pinky fingers. Although her mimicry of human hands was excellent, the three fingers of a true Japanese dragon showed through her disguise.

  Taking a large gulp of the wine, I decided to continue my line of thought. “You need gold to create those shells. Gold ore needs to be broken down, then purified inside your body. You must use gemstones like diamonds and sapphires to grind up the ore.” I stopped short of comparing this to the way chickens stored stones in their craw to break down food. Although accurate, comparing her to a helpless egg factory for humans would only anger her.

  She clapped again and smiled. “Oh my magician,” she said, “you are clever.”

  I hesitated. Had she said “Oh my, magician,” or “Oh, my magician.”? The first implied surprise, the second ownership. One of those questions I didn’t want to pursue.

  “You’re not the first dragon I’ve spent time with,” I said. With the hints I had received from my dragon ex, I had been able to piece together the puzzle. I took another sip of wine, only to discover my glass was empty. Talking with dragons was thirsty work. I topped off her glass and refilled my own, enjoying the earthy aroma of the red wine.

  “So,” she said with the air of a person finally getting to the point, “are you ready to make a Deal?”

  6

  Deal with the Dragon

  Despite the three glasses of wine, I was instantly sober. Making deals with dragons had caused me a lot of trouble in the past. I needed to tread carefully.

  “What kind of Deal?” I asked.

  “A simple trade,” she said. “For an object of your choice from my treasure.” She waved a hand around to indicate all the objects in the room.

  Thinking furiously and stalling for time, I replied, “I don’t need a haunted jukebox.”

  Looking down, I saw a fresh bottle of the same wine. Ashley nodded at me to open it and serve. As I filled our glasses, I continued, “And I don’t have any items to trade.” It was true; my most valuable magical items, the satchel and the vials of dragon’s blood, were useless to her. Princess was bonded to me and not for trade.

  She sipped from her glass and looked at me with hungry eyes. Setting the glass down, she stuck out her first two fingers, and a foot-long talon sprang out. I held my breath. Was she going to attack me because I wouldn’t make a trade with her?

  I was relieved when she didn’t attack. Instead, she scraped her talon across the top of the gold bar, slicing off a thin sliver of the gold like a knife through butter. The talon retracted, and she picked up the gold and took a delicate bite of the metal.

  “Mmm,” she said, “I love gold. And pure gold is like eating candy.”

  Between sips of wine, she consumed the gold wafer. Then she repeated the process. I sipped the wine and watched her eat, her face showing immense pleasure. Halfway through the bar, she stopped suddenly and said, “Oh, my manners are terrible. Would you like some?”

  “No, thank you,” I said. “It’s much too rich for my tastes.”

  She smiled and continued her munching. Finally finished, she emitted a ladylike burp that smelled of a crucible. She covered her mouth and said, “Excuse me.”

  While she had been eating the gold, I had been drinking the wine. After the next two glasses, the sight of her eating pure metal didn’t seem strange. It was slightly erotic, the way she enjoyed the metal and the way she licked her lips with that cute forked tongue as she finished each bite. I watched as she consumed the entire bar, almost twenty-five pounds of gold. I was buzzed, but not buzzed enough to say something stupid like, “A pleasure on the lips; forever on the hips.”

  Finally, she returned to the Deal. “I don’t need any of your objects,” she said.

  Puzzled, I asked, “Then what can I trade with?”

  Her gaze turned to the bed in the corner. “Not an object,” she said. “A service.” She looked at me with wide slit eyes and licked her lips with her forked tongue.

  “A service that would prove pleasurable to you,” she said. Turning her eyes down, she continued, “As well as me.”

  Now the talk of dragon reproduction, the need for gold, the human component, all came together. She wanted a child. Crap, I wasn’t ready to be a father.

  “I don’t think I would make a good father for a dragon,” I said.

  “You will be surprised at how well you adapt,” she said with
that time-piercing gaze.

  “I told you, no prophecies!” I said.

  “I’m not talking about this child,” she said.

  My head spun for a second. “You mean there’s more in my future?” Then I bit my tongue and shook my head. “No,” I said, “I don’t want to know!”

  “It’s hard for us to not talk about the future,” she said. “It’s part of our nature.” Looking up with a puzzled frown, she said, “You will probably never meet this child. I don’t see you and her interacting.”

  Ahh, it was going to be a girl. My heart melted for a moment as I imagined protecting my unborn daughter from scoundrels like me. Then I shook my head to dispel those thoughts. “I have no intention of becoming a deadbeat dad.”

  She tilted her head, and a look of sadness flashed across her face. “I’m sure you would make a great father. In your case, the emphasis would be on the ‘dead’ and not the ‘beat.’

  “Scott,” she continued, “dragon gestation takes hundreds of years. You will probably never see this child.”

  She reached over and stroked my arm gently. “When I said ‘not this child,’ I was talking about the other—” She cut herself off at my glare. “OK, no fortune-telling.”

  Taking my hand, she continued, “Anyway, your lifeline is so entangled with other potent entities that it’s very hard to discern. Hell, I don’t even know if you will accept my offer.”

  Good to know my life was so crazy and unpredictable that even dragons couldn’t get a good reading.

  Scrambling for an excuse, any excuse, to avoid this, I said, “I’m in a relationship.”

  “With Kitty-Sue?” she asked.

  “And Akiko,” I whispered.

  She licked her lips again, that forked tongue surprisingly sensuous. She was rubbing my hand gently, even though she was strong enough to crush it like a tomato.