“Wait, what?”
“I know, I know,” Lucan said. “That’s a sore spot for you. You did your doctoral dissertation on Old Dark, didn’t you? The university and the government didn’t like it much, if I remember correctly.”
Miri didn’t want to think about it. She was more familiar with the old dragon lord than anyone of her generation. His policies. His legacy.
The government didn’t appreciate her scholarship, nor did the university. It made many of the older dragons uncomfortable, for they had lived during the reign and contributed to much of the savagery. And that was a very difficult position for the now-benevolent contributors to society to explain.
The media launched a smear campaign against her research. She came home many a night to find her apartment ransacked, her mail opened. Dean Rosehill stood up for her, but the university took back her doctorate even though she’d earned it. They would have fired her if she weren’t tenured.
But that was in the past.
“You must be mistaken, Mr. Grimoire. There’s no proof that Old Dark was ever buried.”
“That’s what I said. I’ve watched the history shows and what little they say about him. Throughout the years, dozens of con artists have claimed they found his grave, and the gravesites always ended up being false.”
“There have been over a hundred alleged spottings,” Miri said. “And there have been stories from time to time throughout history of individuals claiming to possess some of the old dragon’s body parts. But it’s unlikely. He was hit with a curse, probably similar to the one that affected his parents. His body would have withered away. After a few decades there would have been nothing left.”
“Right. That’s what they say.” Lucan paused and then grinned. “Long story kind of short, this kid convinced me to cancel my afternoon appointments and trek over to the Ancestral Bogs. You ever been there?”
“A few times, while I was researching.”
“Real bitch of a place. Hot. Insects that want to eat your skin off. And that water’s got to be diseased. Makes sense that it was the Dark family’s birthplace.”
The bogs were unbearable. They were protected under the Magical Lands Act, revered for their inherent magical properties. Only a few people, mostly of elven descent, lived there. The dragons had left hundreds of years ago. It was the kind of locale you read about in books, but not one you’d vacation in. Miri had visited them to learn more about the Dark family, but even she couldn’t tolerate the atmosphere for more than a few hours.
“The kid dragged me through the bog. We found this.”
Lucan shoved his phone into her hands.
On the screen was a blurry picture taken from the bog; the white claw lay submerged in the thicket, its marbled texture grainy in the photo.
“I’ve seen this before,” Miri said, frowning. “There was a similar one discovered about twenty years ago. It was an empty tomb not intended for a body.”
“Why was that?”
“If there’s one thing you need to learn about dragons, Mr. Grimoire, it’s that they’re purposefully enigmatic. When a dragon dies, its body swells with magic until it decomposes and the magic seeps back into the aquifer. However, the process takes decades, so dragons used to erect false tombs with curses inside to deter grave robbers.”
“Keep swiping.”
Miri swiped through the photos, all taken of the claw at different angles. She stopped at one. It looked like a pink photo filter had been laid over it.
Magic. Not unusual, especially for a dragon’s resting place.
“It kept disappearing on me,” Lucan said. “I had to find it three different times before I could get these photos.”
Miri held the phone up to her face and scrutinized it. “It still doesn’t explain anything. And there’s no connection with Old Dark.”
Lucan sat next to her and zoomed in on the claw. On the side of the temple was an emblem embedded into the marble—a dragon’s head that looked suspiciously like the old paintings of Old Dark. No one knew exactly what he looked like, only that he was an enormous black dragon, and like his father and mother before him, one of the few to ever exist. The dragon on the emblem was unmistakably black as night.
“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Lucan said, “but I had my assistant research every instance of a tomb discovery. None of them had anything like this.”
“It still proves nothing.”
“Will you come and check it out? That’s all I’m asking at this point. If it’s nothing, I’ll pay you for your time and we can forget this ever happened.”
Miri swiped through the photos again. Her mind reeled as she thought about the consequences.
There was no telling what the university would do if she started talking about this topic again. And the media—they’d come after her harder than before. She might have to resign.
“Why are you so interested in Old Dark all of a sudden, Mr. Grimoire?”
Lucan leaned back. “Old Dark sat on the biggest magical aquifer reserve in history. If I can find some of it, I can help with the magic shortage. A discovery this big might even solve it. And I’ll win with voters when I unveil it, and the governor will have no choice but to play along.”
“You can’t draw magic from the land. The bog is protected by law.”
“Not if it’s for the good of society. Section seven of the Magical Lands Act grants temporary care, custody and control of a newly discovered historical land to—”
“…an accredited university for the purposes of research,” Miri finished.
“Until the school can determine whether such land would be valuable for the private sector to establish environmentally-sustaining operations,” Lucan said, reciting the law from memory.
Miri gasped at the revelation.
“Now we’re speaking the same language,” Lucan said. “There’s going to be fallout, but fortunately I have a whole fleet of attorneys who’ve advised me, and I’m thinking several steps ahead. Stick with me, Miri, and you just might get the reputation you actually deserve. So what do you say?”
XIII
They drove two hours to the bog, past the outskirts of Magic Hope City—a huge bowl of skyscrapers and billboards. The highways took them around the city, and Earl drove in the magic lane that gave them speed but forced them to stop at several tolls. The terminals swam with pink magic, and a transponder on the windshield clicked, triggering the gates to open and let them into the magic lane again, flowing faster than before.
On their way out of town they passed the Hall of Governance, the severe building where the governor lived and where politics were conducted; it imposed itself on the skyline with its gray countenance lined with thousands of immaculate windows and its spires like needles in the air.
The city sprouted up around them and then fell away as they cleared the city limits and drove into the surrounding towns, and then into the great western wetlands, traveling on a single gray road that threaded endlessly like a snake through wild fields of cranberries and dikes.
With the flat lands ahead and galaxies of stars above them, Earl relaxed a little and put the car into autopilot.
Lucan loosened his tie and lay down across his seat, resting his eyes. He was so tired they burned. He’d been up since four in the morning, and it was now almost one in the morning. Nearly a full day. He didn’t know how much more of it he could stand. But he had called his contracting guy, and a crew was en route to the bog with excavation equipment. Now that he had the professor in his pocket, he could rest.
“Long day?” Miri asked. She had ridden the whole way in silence, gazing out the window and twirling her long black hair. That she was talkative now, when he was trying to sleep, irritated him.
“Yah.”
“Fall asleep now and you may not want to wake up.”
Lucan waved her away. “I’m a night owl. Not waking up at the bottom of the night is the least of my problems, Professor Charmwell.”
“Miri.”
; “I’m so tired I don’t care what your name is right now. No offense.”
His phone vibrated and a text message crawled across the screen.
I’M FINE, THANK YOU VERY MUCH.
Celesse. He wondered how she was holding up.
Lucan sighed as he thumbed a response.
OWE YOU BIG FOR THIS ONE. GOT THE PROFESSOR BTW. ON MY WAY.
He closed his eyes and drifted into immediate sleep.
XIV
Night had fallen on the bog quickly, faster than Celesse Cullis had hoped. She buttoned the suit jacket Lucan had left her and hugged her arms together. The temperature had dropped drastically and she wasn’t prepared for it. She’d picked the wrong day to wear a skirt.
She walked back and forth across the mud trying to stay warm. The thick, peaty smell was making her head swirl, and several times she had to sit down to get her bearings.
The white claw lay in the distance, not too far away, and the magical force field pulsed every now and again to make its existence known.
The magic must have been the reason she couldn’t get cell service. That and the fact that she was in the middle of a godforsaken bog, with no cell towers anywhere near. She’d had to walk a mile to the road just to get one bar. And because her phone’s battery had only twenty percent left, she could only text Lucan to ask where he was. She had to disable the rest of her apps to save power.
Lucan owed her.
In any other situation, he would have called another employee to come wait. But doing that here would have meant they would have lost the tomb.
She thought about the campaign and how the media was likely reporting on Lucan’s absence.
The talking heads would call him flaky and uncommitted. They would claim that Governor Grimoire was gaining “momentum” (always a lie when they said it like that), and that Lucan’s campaign might be in trouble.
That’s what they did. Extrapolated lies from nothing.
She’d have to work double overtime to repair his image, book more events, and position Lucan in districts where his numbers suffered the most from the fallout. He’d have to begin rebuilding the confidence she’d toiled so hard to garner.
All while rebuilding their own relationship. Oh yes, there was a fight coming. A big one.
Earlier in the day, she’d had to call several delegates to apologize profusely on his behalf. Some expected it. Others had nothing but curse words for her. She’d contacted everyone but the dragons. They didn’t use telephones, and they were going to be pissed.
Lucan would have to visit them. She wasn’t doing it. No way, not after begging them for help.
She jumped onto a tree stump and moved around to generate warmth.
Tony sat in the mud, resting his head against a broken birch. Even though he was tired, he had that classic elven, blank facial expression. “Any updates?” he asked.
“He’s on his way,” Celesse said.
“What does that mean, exactly?”
“It means what it means.”
“Is he on the way or is he getting ready to be on his way, which is just another way of saying ‘thanks for your patience’?”
She couldn’t imagine dealing with kids like him every day. College interns were enough. There was a reason she worked in politics and not as a teacher.
“Get some rest,” Celesse said. “I’ll keep watch.”
“I’ve been resting!” Tony cried. “You think I expected to spend all night here?”
“A little longer,” Celesse said.
“I’ve been patient. I showed him the tomb. I’m not even asking to be paid. I didn’t plan on this.”
“Neither did I,” Celesse said. “I’m sick of this place, too, but your attitude isn’t helping.”
Tony stood and walked away.
“Where are you going?” Celesse asked.
“Tell him I stayed as long as I could,” Tony said. “But this is stupid now.”
A tree rustled nearby.
Tony stopped. “Did you hear that?”
Celesse shrugged. Then she heard the sound of leaves crunching.
Were they footsteps?
Leaves crunched again. Crunch-crunch. Crunch-crunch.
The hair on the nape of her neck stood up. Something told her the footsteps weren’t human. It sounded as if something were slithering through the thicket.
Tony reached into his pocket and pulled out a white card.
Celesse grabbed the wooden stake, clutching it as hard as she could without giving herself splinters.
“What do you think it is?” she asked.
An ear-shattering scream ripped through the woods, and Celesse screamed in response.
Tony jumped back and yelled, “Oh, crap!”
Green eyes blinked in the dark and a shadow leapt out of the woods at them.
XV
“How long until we arrive?” Miri asked.
Earl, until now, had been staring ahead dutifully, his hands on the wheel even though the car was on autopilot.
He glanced in the rearview mirror. Lucan was snoring. Then he turned to the professor and grinned. “About twenty minutes now, Miss.”
Miri couldn’t sleep. She’d tried to rest her head against the window, but it was cold. Besides, she couldn’t stop thinking about Old Dark. About her thesis and whether all the things she wrote were true. She kept playing the same facts in her head over and over, until she decided that she had thought about the matter enough for now.
“What part of town are you from, Earl?” Miri asked.
“The North Side.”
“Any elven blood?” With his broad stature he looked more human than elf, but one always had to ask so you knew what to say when discussing magic—or, in the case of a human, sometimes it was wise not to discuss magic at all for fear of making them feel ashamed.
“I’ve got a little in me,” Earl said. “About one sixty-fourth.”
“Can you use grimoires?”
“They don’t take to me, Miss. Can’t ever get them to work on account of my blood. Doctor said if I was one thirty-second then I’d be able to use a modicum of magic. Painful to think about.”
Only elves could use magic. Humans reaped the benefits from the magical society, but their strengths often lay elsewhere. She felt bad for Earl. Everyone deserved to cast a spell every now and again.
“Lucan said you have kids?”
“Seven.”
Earl handed a smartphone to her. Its screen glowed with a picture of Earl in a t-shirt and shorts, a kind-looking blonde woman with graying hair, and seven boys who seemed to be ages five through eighteen. They all sat on a couch, smiling.
“My!” Miri gasped. “Then this is an especially late night for you.”
Earl laughed. “They take care of each other while I’m gone.”
“I can’t imagine having a child, let alone seven. And boys at that.”
“Boys are national treasures. If only the university would help with tuition…”
“Call me when we get back. There might be a few things I can do.”
Earl tipped his cap to her. “You’re too kind. You married, Professor?”
“Ha! To my work, sure.”
“So am I.”
“I don’t think I could work all day and not see my family, though.”
“Comes with the occupation. I’m used to—”
A shadow darted across the road and the car struck it. Miri’s seatbelt snapped and pulled her back.
Earl flew forward and hit his head on the dashboard.
Lucan rolled onto the floor and woke up, bleary eyed. “Earl, what the hell?”
The car slowed to a stop and chimed. Earl took manual control, but it wouldn’t accelerate. The wheels revved and threw up gravel. Then the car jumped forward and started rolling, the front wheel sending up orange sparks.
Outside, the wetlands were pitch black.
Lucan pulled out his pistol. “What do you think, Earl?”
“Something tells me we be
tter get ready for a fight, sir.”
Lucan handed a white card to Miri. It had a pentagram on it. “You handy with magic? We might have a monster on our hands.”
Miri nodded, even though she had never encountered a monster out in the open like this. She had taught a monster self-defense class a few years ago. But she struggled to remember what she had even taught.
Her hands trembled on the card, and she hoped she wouldn’t have to use it.
They climbed out. The night sky bore down on them and steam rose from the hood of the car.
A flat tire.
“Not good,” Lucan said.
“We’ve a spare,” Earl said.
A beastly, high-pitched shriek made Miri jump.
On the side of the road, a creature with ten tentacle-like legs slithered across the asphalt. It had a conch shell and two green, sickly eyes on both sides of its head. The shell was rounded at the back with a whorled pattern, and in front it extended over the creature’s face like a horn. The shell was cracked, and several of the creature’s tentacles were flattened from where the tires had run over them.
Earl reached into the driver side and pulled out a pump-action shotgun. He pumped, then fired, cracking the shell further.
Earl fired four times before the beast fell onto the road, screamed again and stopped moving.
Only then did Miri stop holding her breath. Her ears rung from the shots, and the monster’s wraith-like scream had made her feel light, as if the wind could blow her away.
“It’s dead,” Earl said, shouldering the shotgun. “You both okay?”
Miri knelt in front of the creature. Blood oozed from its lips and the road was covered in gray slime.
“This is a Magic Eater,” Miri said.
“Monsters are monsters,” Lucan said.
“I’ve seen them in books, but ... never in the wild. They are drawn to magic. They feast on it, and it gives them magical properties. If they eat enough of it, they can be lethal.”
Old Dark (The Last Dragon Lord Book 1) Page 8