“Err …” I said, attempting to interrupt the power play that was brewing before swords were drawn and I got caught in the backlash. “No one mentioned the assassination part.”
They ignored me. Yeah, I saw that slight coming a mile away.
“The half-blood — as you so arrogantly refer to her — wields remarkable magic.”
“Dragons —”
“The warrior’s daughter is not bound by that which binds us,” Pulou interrupted. “I have set the task. Do you question me further, sentinel?”
Warner didn’t answer right away. When he spoke, he did so like a man heavily editing himself — short and to the point, so as to not chance further words leaking out. “No, guardian.”
“That is best,” the treasure keeper said. “As far as I know, you are the last of your line. Unique, as Jade Godfrey is unique. I wouldn’t want to subdue you.”
Subdue you? That didn’t sound like a great option. Actually, I wasn’t too sure that wasn’t code for ‘kill you.’
I watched Pulou as he stared at Warner. The sentinel didn’t look away, but he also didn’t speak. The treasure keeper’s magic rose up and around his fur coat in a golden aura with a flood of spicy dragon magic — this with hints of black tea and heavy cream.
“Not only is Jade Godfrey the child of the warrior, she is also under the protection of the nine.” Pulou’s voice was a dead-low whisper I’d never heard from the guardian. He loved to laugh almost as much as my father.
Warner nodded once. “I would never —”
Pulou’s magic pressed toward the sentinel, who leaned into it with a grimace. He stood at least four inches taller than the treasure keeper, but Pulou easily had eight inches of width on him. I’d never seen a power play between dragons before. It was rather uncomfortable, for my dowser senses and my sense of individuality.
I wrapped my fingers through the wedding rings on my necklace in an attempt to draw on more of its shielding magic.
“We are contemporaries, yes?” Pulou asked. “Warner, son of Jiaotu-who-was, sentinel of the instruments of assassination.”
“No, guardian,” Warner said. His gaze remained locked to the treasure keeper’s, but his voice was strained.
“Why not?” Pulou’s voice was still pitched low. “Were we not born of an age?”
“I have no desire to challenge you or any guardian. I chose my task willingly, gladly …” Pain laced Warner’s words. He shifted toward me — involuntarily, I thought — but this caused Pulou’s magic to brush against me.
I cried out from the sudden scrambling of my brain. My eyes were momentarily unable to focus.
Pulou immediately dampened his magic. I swayed forward, as did Warner, at the loss of it.
“My apologies, alchemist,” Pulou murmured. “I forget how young you are.” He shifted his gaze to Warner once again. “We understand each other now.”
Warner nodded.
I really had no freaking idea what was going on, and now I had a splitting headache. “Someone needs to fill me in.”
“Unbeknownst to me, the sentinel was tasked by my predecessor to protect the instruments of assassination whenever they are sought,” Pulou said. “If there is no incursion, he sleeps, yes?”
Warner nodded. His shoulders were slumped wearily. Standing up to the intimidating magic of the treasure keeper was impressive but obviously draining.
“And the map, like, triggered him … ?” I asked, starting to put things together for myself.
Pulou looked to Warner for confirmation. The sentinel nodded.
“And the shadow that the alchemist mentioned?” Pulou asked. “Was it a demon scout?”
“I believe so,” Warner answered.
“Such beings shouldn’t be able to come through in any amount of force,” Pulou said. “Nor should they be any match for your knife, alchemist.”
Well, that was good to know, and nice to hear that Pulou had such confidence in my abilities. A little ego stroking was always welcomed and appreciated. Pair it with chocolate and you could get almost anywhere, anytime with me.
“And the instruments of assassination?” I asked.
“Have you unlocked the map?” Pulou asked instead of answering me.
“Not yet.”
“By the time my predecessor chose me as his successor, he was … ready to relinquish his mantel. My time with him was short. I didn’t even know of the tattoo until after I had taken his seat among the guardians. He kept journals spanning almost nine hundred years, as most guardians do. But, as I mentioned yesterday, the bulk of this knowledge was lost in a fire only a few years after I assumed the mantle of the treasure keeper.”
Warner made a pained noise.
Pulou acknowledged this with a curt nod. “If you had asked me yesterday if such a thing existed I would have said the instruments were a myth, dragon lore.”
“They’re not,” Warner said.
“As is made obvious by your presence, sentinel,” Pulou said gruffly. The treasure keeper really wasn’t a fan of Warner waltzing in and questioning his directives. “Have you laid eyes on the instruments? Do you know their form and function? Do you know the location of the items I seek?”
“No, guardian,” Warner answered, his tone edged with frustration. “Just that they are best left hidden, as your predecessor deemed.”
“I might not have absorbed his memories when I absorbed his powers, sentinel,” Pulou said. “But I can read what little survived the fire. The treasure keeper left what was untouchable where it lay. Not because he thought it was safer there, but because he had no means to reach it.” Pulou turned to deliberately look at me. “I do.”
Warner didn’t answer, though he did glance at me before he once again looked to the ground at Pulou’s feet.
“To whom do you owe your allegiance, Warner, son of Jiaotu-who-was?”
“You, guardian, and the nine.”
Pulou nodded, his amiable grin returning. “Your hunt is still afoot, Jade Godfrey,” he said. “Enjoy the chase. Luckily, Warner, sentinel of the instruments of assassination, will now be by your side if you so wish. I imagine you will find his experience with the shadow demons who apparently also seek this treasure valuable.”
“Yeah, some heads-up on that shadow demon part would have been cool.”
Pulou snorted. “For both of us. Unlock the map, alchemist. Find the instruments and bring them to me. Tread carefully, but quickly. I will inform the guardians of the sentinel’s return and his … insight.”
The treasure keeper turned and walked away. From the back, he totally looked like a grizzly bear, except with a shiny coat.
Pulou paused beneath the far archway, then turned to look at Warner. “I am sorry for the loss of your mother, sentinel. She was a strong, capable guardian to her final years. Wearing such power can be taxing on a dragon, but silver-tongued Jiaotu never faltered.”
“Thank you, guardian,” Warner said.
“We will speak again,” Pulou said.
“I’m forever in your service,” Warner said, bowing far deeper than he had when first meeting the treasure keeper.
Pulou nodded and then walked through the archway that led to the dragon residences.
I turned to Warner. “So … are you coming with me, then?”
He eyed me. “You would fail without me, and most likely die. Allowing an item such as this —”
“Yeah, yeah,” I interrupted. “I get that, like a lot. What I don’t get is why I’m constantly saddled with old men.”
Warner frowned. “I’m not old. And you’re not a horse.”
Okay, this conversation was going somewhere rather raunchy rather quickly. “I’m not saying I’m a horse. I’m saying you were born in 1500.”
“I was born in 1507. I have slept four and a half centuries.”
“Don’t try to play me, Warner, son of Jiaotu-who-was. Everyone has a sob story. Hell, my sister just spent the last year trying to kill me and d
rain my powers —”
“Impossible.”
“Ah, don’t be that guy.”
“That guy?”
“You’ve forgotten your training in the execution of your task. Listen, dragon.”
Warner fell silent, staring at me. Then he nodded. “I hear you, alchemist. I’m sorry your sister tried to kill you.”
“I’m sorry you woke up, like, four hundred and fifty years into the future and your mom is dead.”
Warner nodded. I ignored the fact that, when agreeable, he was awfully gorgeous in a manly, chiseled way. I’m not attracted to grumpy older men … I’m not attracted to grumpy older men … I’m not attracted to grumpy older men. Yeah, I’d just keep telling myself that.
“Let’s get out of here before we bump into any more guardians.”
“That’s a good plan.”
I smiled at him. “Yeah, I’m cute and quick. Just not particularly smart.”
“Indeed,” he agreed. “You should have left me in the alley. You’re foolishly fearless, Jade Godfrey, warrior’s daughter.”
“See?” I said flippantly as I crossed back to the native-carved cedar door that led to the bakery. “We’re getting to know each other already. I’m cute and fearless, and you’re obsessive and grumpy … in really tight leather pants.”
CHAPTER FIVE
By the time we returned to the bakery, it was after closing, though it felt like we’d only been gone an hour or so. The more guardians I interacted with in the nexus, the worse I found that time differential. Evidently, three quick conversations with three guardians equaled approximately ten hours.
I stepped through the portal and made a beeline to the stairs up to the pantry with Warner trailing behind me. The sentinel hadn’t spoken a word. He didn’t come across as the thoughtful type — more like the break-and-tumble-and-figure-shit-out-later type — but he was obviously working through centuries of shock now.
I could taste Kandy’s distinctive berry-infused dark-chocolate magic in the bakery storefront. I’d completely missed our mani-pedi appointment, but found the green-haired werewolf contentedly mowing her way through leftover cupcakes and playing chess on her iPad.
I normally donated the day-olds to the daycare at the Kitsilano Neighborhood House. But apparently not on my best friend’s belated-birthday weekend. And yes, the green-haired werewolf was crazy good at chess. She was a complex person. I adored every inch of her every quirk.
The green of her shapeshifter magic rolled over Kandy’s eyes as Warner and I crossed around the empty display case and joined her in the small seating area by the French-paned front windows. She had about two dozen cupcakes arranged by frosting color on one of the tall, circular tables. Her legs were curled around the legs of the high stool she was perched on to overlook her purloined loot. Kandy, the cupcake pirate.
“He’s staying?” she asked with her mouth full of the first bite of a Tart in a Cup, a mouth-watering blackberry cake with blackberry buttercream icing, which also happened to be another of her birthday cupcakes.
“Pulou thinks he might be helpful,” I answered.
Kandy snorted. “Dragons use that word too loosely.” She stuffed the rest of the cupcake in her mouth and then licked the icing off her fingers.
“The practically immortal often do,” I said as I sat down at the empty table next to her. I pulled the map out of my satchel and unrolled it before me.
Kandy snagged two more cupcakes, then wandered over to stand by me, peering down at the tattooed dragonskin. She handed me one of her birthday cupcakes — Tease in a Cup, a delectably moist chocolate blackberry cake with blackberry buttercream. Sharing food was a pretty big gesture from a werewolf, especially as I’d pretty much missed the second day of her belated-birthday weekend. But I figured creating four cupcakes in her honor was the same as banking a bunch of IOUs.
“He’s catatonic now?” Kandy asked.
I glanced up at Warner, who had followed me only as far as the first set of windows and now seemed to be mesmerized by the trinkets hanging there. Before I’d known I was an alchemist, I used to collect bits of natural or residual magic — stones, jewelry, sea glass, broken china — and fasten them together into pretty wind chimes or window decorations. I had no idea at the time that I was actually making magical objects capable of holding various spells or charms, if the holder knew how to work an object’s magic that way. My sister Sienna had figured that out, not me. She’d used my trinkets to hold or focus the magic she stole from other Adepts. She killed three werewolves and her own boyfriend — a latent necromancer — using my trinkets as magical anchors before anyone figured out what she was doing.
“He’s absorbing, I think,” I answered Kandy. Dragons were fascinated by magic, and often got caught up watching it for hours. Even I, who saw and tasted magic more intensely than anyone else I knew — except perhaps Pulou — grew bored more quickly. “He’s slept for four hundred and fifty years.” Then I lowered my voice out of respect, though not secrecy. Dragon hearing was even better than that of a werewolf. “And his mom is definitely dead.”
Kandy grunted sympathetically, then said, “He’s going to need new clothes.”
I shook my head. Werewolves didn’t have a deep well of empathy to draw on. Life was pretty cut and dried, black and white to them. Eat or be eaten. That sort of thing. Whether you needed it or not, Kandy was always ready with a kick in the ass.
Though she did have a point. Warner drew a lot of attention, and I imagined he would even without the leather get-up. Then I stopped myself from attempting to figure out what sort of chest — hairy, smooth, somewhere in between — his leather vest covered. I was going to have to take him clothes shopping. There was a Mark’s Work Wearhouse just down the street. And now I was trying to visualize him in 501’s and an unbuttoned blue plaid work shirt. The blue would bring out his eyes …
“Can he read it?” Kandy asked, referencing the map.
“He says not,” I answered, though I wasn’t completely sure. Warner, despite Pulou’s suggestion, didn’t seem like the helpful type. His current introspection could totally just be passive resistance in disguise.
I peered down at the tattoo. As before, I found the mix of images baffling. Branches of flowers and leaves, circles slashed with colored stripes, and interconnected blocks that looked vaguely mechanical ringed the edges. The center of the tattoo was filled with splotches of green and blue, and with the tiny black triangles that I still thought might be mountains or other geographical indicators.
Warner, still completely ignoring us, reached out and ran his fingers across the five trinkets hanging before him. They clinked together, sending a sweet chime through the room. The dragon breathed in deeply, almost as if he was inhaling the sound. Then his body settled. I hadn’t noticed that he’d been tense before. But then, I didn’t know him at all.
I returned my attention to the map. “Maybe the symbols on the outside edge are clues to the object, not the location?”
Kandy shrugged and retrieved another cupcake.
My stomach grumbled. I was starving. Warner turned his gaze on me. I couldn’t read anything in his look, but I wasn’t going to be embarrassed about a rumbly tummy.
“Do you know what we’re looking for or not?” I asked him.
“Not,” he answered, terse but not angry.
“You’ve been guarding this thing for centuries, but you know nothing about it?”
“I know it needs to be protected.” If Warner had been a werewolf, he would have bared his teeth at me. As a dragon, he kept his tone evenly aloof.
“Rainbows,” Kandy said. Her mouth was now full of Sex in a Cup, a cocoa cake spiced with cinnamon and topped with dark-chocolate buttercream. It was a standby favorite of mine.
“What?”
“Well, almost rainbows.” The green-haired werewolf pointed at the striped circle in the top right of the map. “See? Just missing green.” She moved her hand diagonally to
point at the striped circle in the bottom left corner of the map. The colors of the thin stripes ran red, orange, yellow, blue, and violet, skipping the green that would normally sit between yellow and blue in a rainbow.
“Maybe the circle represents the earth?” Kandy said. “You know, with the rainbow arching over? Everything in the middle is just mumbo-jumbo, though. Doesn’t look like a map to me at all.”
I stared at Kandy.
“What?” she snapped. “Don’t you go to grade school in Canada?”
“We call it elementary here,” I murmured as I transferred my attention back to the map.
“Well, if you’d had to be graded, maybe you would have recognized a half-assed rainbow when you saw one.”
I didn’t correct Kandy on the grades/grade school versus no grades/elementary school thing. Warner had stepped closer to peer at the map just over my shoulder, but he didn’t contribute to the conversation. I wasn’t sure that the rainbow notion helped to decode the map, but I had an idea about who could.
“You know who we need.”
“Don’t say it,” Kandy said. “We don’t need an old, long-toothed xenophobe.”
“I could at least text him,” I said.
“If he wanted to hunt treasure with us, he’d be here,” Kandy snapped. “Plus, no one wants him around anyway, Mr. Icy Know-It-All.”
“A vampire?” Warner asked. He didn’t sound overjoyed. But then, Drake was the only dragon I’d ever met who didn’t loathe vampires, and the fourteen-year-old just wasn’t completely indoctrinated yet.
“Yeah,” Kandy answered. “An older-than-your-ass, too-powerful bloodsucker who collects knowledge and people like Jade collects magical bits.”
Warner glanced over my head at the trinkets in the window, then looked back at me. It had been a long time since I’d wondered if someone found me attractive — me, not my magic — and I found myself wishing I’d put on lip gloss. Just a sheer pink that would pop against my tanned skin. Warner’s brow creased, and I realized I’d been staring at him.
Damn it. He was a freaking dragon. I wasn’t lusting after someone more powerful than I was. That was just asking for trouble. And I was really, really tired of trouble.
Shadows, Maps, and Other Ancient Magic (Dowser Series Book 4) Page 7