by WB McKay
Owen, and all the little things I continued to learn about him, were getting into my head. I was forgetting he was a dragon I should hate on principle. I jabbed him in the rib with an elbow. "Well, aren't you a regular Tour Guide Barbie."
"And you enjoyed it," he said, certain of himself.
And that was the problem. Time to steer this conversation into safer, more familiar territory. "So, how old were you when you stopped having these adventures in favor of opening a club and turning it into your own personal brothel?"
His jaw clenched, and he took a moment to himself before he answered, sounding surprisingly vulnerable. "I don't sleep with that many women."
Argh. More feelings. Must avoid at all costs. "That's not what my friend Ava said." I hoped my voice was light and teasing. I wasn't sure I owned such a tone, but I tried.
"Ava? Ava Kinney?"
Oh, crap. I didn't want to drag Ava into my book-thieving mess just because I was uncomfortable talking to Owen. "I mentioned your place to another friend, and Ava said she knew you." There, that sounded innocent enough. Like a normal conversation among girlfriends. And it was the truth, even if those things didn't happen at the same time. I'd mentioned Smoke and Mirrors to Phoebe, who I apparently considered a friend since I'd been able to say it. And Ava had talked about knowing Owen.
"How do you know Ava?" he asked, giving nothing away with his facial expression.
I shrugged, and unable to see a trap in the question, I answered directly. "She's a work contact."
"Work? Your work or hers?"
"Both," I said, deciding brevity was the safest way to proceed.
"What does she do now?" he asked.
"She owns a business," I replied. "What's with all the questions?" I didn't want to tell her ex everything she was up to. I didn't know what I was stepping in, but there were all kinds of reasons that could be seen as a betrayal.
"Why are you being so evasive?" he asked, brow quirked.
So he'd noticed that. "I didn't mean to wander into this awkward territory. I'm not very good at conversation. I don't want to play the go-between with you and your ex, okay? You should forget everything I said and leave Ava alone."
"My ex? Is that what she told you?" he asked, a strange look on his face.
"Well—I mean—no."
"Good, because that would be creepy." He smiled fondly. "Even for Ava."
"Huh?" I was totally lost.
"Ava is my sister," he supplied, his words colored with a laugh.
"Oh." I thought about all the implications of that for a minute. Ava had a dragon for a brother, and she'd sent me to rob him. Well, that was some strange sibling rivalry. "You guys don't talk much?"
"No," he said, and scrubbed his short hair with a fist. "We haven't really talked in over a decade."
"Oh." That was probably the best thing I would come up with to say about that. "I'm sorry."
"Yeah, well," he said. "She's doing okay?"
"I think so," I said.
"Good," he said. He swallowed hard. "What'd she say about me?"
I smiled. "Well, she has some opinions about how many girls you take home."
He laughed. "How does she even know about that? Did you tell her?"
"No," I told him. "I got the impression she keeps an eye on you, in the way she does."
"She checks up on me with ghosts?" He sounded surprised. "Why doesn't she just—never mind."
"No, what?"
If he attempted to answer, his words were lost beneath the yowling of the cat that launched out of the underbrush and wrapped itself around his head and shoulders. At least it sounded like a cat. It didn't have fur and its skin was tinged dark purple. It had to weigh at least sixty pounds. Owen gripped it with both hands and flung it back the direction it came from. I was a ton of help, totally successful at fulfilling my job of standing there gawking.
He turned to me, eyes wide, hands patting his head. "Is my hair okay? I felt some of it pull out. I just fixed the mess you made of it." He growled. It did not sound human. "If I need another haircut, I'm going to be bald."
Bald, huh? He could probably pull that look off, too. It'd draw even more attention to his eyes. I shook off the little fantasy. Ugh, what's wrong with me? Owen looked at me expectantly. "Oh, yeah, your hair is fine." No need to mention the blood dripping down his temples; he'd figure it out soon enough. I peered into the darkening forest. "What the hell was that thing?"
"Shadowcat," he said, still checking his skull. "They're mean bastards. Drink blood." He wiped a hand across his forehead, smearing the blood that trailed from his hairline. He gave me a pointed look while he continued to wipe his face clean. "They're not too large, but they're fierce. They usually hunt in packs."
As if on cue, three of the ugly, purple beasts prowled onto the road, low growls rumbling in their chests. Their yellow eyes flicked over to me and then back to Owen, focusing on what they considered the biggest threat. That was fine with me; I worked better while being underestimated. A thump sounded behind us. I spun and found a naked, roughly humanoid, female standing on the road a dozen paces behind us.
Or, maybe the shadowcats were dividing and conquering.
"You take the kitties. I've got their momma." I pulled Epic and Haiku from their sheaths.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
"That's not their mother," said Owen, unnecessarily. Before I could say something snarky, he continued, "That's the decay spirit you disturbed when you walked up to that rotting tree."
Pink flowers hung in front of her neck, the same type I'd seen growing around the fallen tree. They writhed and undulated like snakes. While I took her in, she studied me in return. Once her luminous yellow-green eyes had enough, she opened her mouth and let out a hiss, exposing pointed teeth.
I braced to meet her charge, but it didn't come. Instead, vines propelled in from both sides of the road, reaching for my arms and legs. I waved both swords in a wide arc, chopping the ends off the closest vines, and raced toward the plant woman. That attack reminded me too much of Phoebe. "Is this some sort of evil dryad?" I called back to Owen. It was always best to know what you were dealing with.
Owen punted a shadowcat into the trees. It mewled like a broken ambulance siren. "Something like that," he said, lunging at the next cat and missing when it darted nimbly aside.
I swiped my sword at the dryad's stomach and caught only air. She could really move. "Why don't you roast those things and join me with boss lady?"
A vine wrapped around my ankle and yanked me to the ground. I landed flat on my back and all the air pushed out of my lungs in a whoosh. If this hadn't been a fight for my life, I would have stayed there. I had a nice view of the sky. My back hurt. I could use a rest. Instead, I rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the fist that would have slammed into my throat. Years of practice with my swords allowed me to execute the move without turning myself into a shish kebab. I rolled to my feet and sucked in a gasping breath.
The evil dryad wasn't about to let me take a break. She lunged at me, her arms grasping. It was such a ridiculous way for an unarmed opponent to attack someone wielding two swords that I didn't know how to react. At the last moment, I slashed both swords across her belly and opened twin furrows in her pale, green flesh. It didn't slow her down. In the next instant, I was wrapped in her grasp, my right arm pinned at my side.
"This is awkward," I said, and then plunged Haiku into her shoulder. Her crushing grip loosened slightly, but otherwise she wasn't fazed.
The flowers I'd seen dancing in front of her wriggled between our bodies and finally broke free. They danced rhythmically around me while I continued to hack at the plant lady's arm. Whether it hurt her or not, she couldn't hold me very well if I took her arm off. I had a moment to ponder her strange method of attack and then the dancing flowers darted at my face. They latched onto my cheeks, their needle-sharp stamen piercing my flesh.
Energy sapped from my body, making my movements sluggish. My eyes rolled back in my head. I
caught sight of a shadowcat sailing over me and a whiff of cinnamon before I was bowled over by a wall of muscle. The plant lady went tumbling off the side of the road, leaving me in a heap under Owen. Searing pain blazed down my leg where Epic had opened a gash during the fall.
My strength returned in a rush. I pushed Owen off me, trying not to notice the pleasant feeling of his strong body against mine. "Off," I shouted.
"Avoid the flowers," he said, rolling to his feet in one fluid motion.
"No shit," I sniped. He held a hand down for me and I ignored it. My leg twinged when I stood, but it was just a flesh wound. I searched the trees for enemies. "Did you finally take care of the pussycats?"
He nodded and pulled up his t-shirt to examine the gashes on his chiseled abs. I studied them, making sure he wouldn't bleed out on me. Yep, that's my story and I'm sticking to it. "I don't think she'll come back right now." He kicked at a withered chunk of plant material on the ground. "You took off one of her arms." He dropped his shirt and looked up at me, fixing me with a lopsided grin that made a blush warm my cheeks.
I wiped off my swords and sheathed them to give myself something to do that didn't involve looking at Owen. The color in my cheeks was easily explained by the exertion of the fight. Or—I rubbed them and winced—the fact that I'd just been skewered by a plant. "Stabbed by flowers," I grumbled. "That's a new one." All in all, I came out of the battle okay, for what had felt like a fight for my life moments before.
"We should get going." He nodded down the trail, like I didn't know the way. "Maybe if we get far enough away she'll leave us alone."
The adrenaline rush from the fight subsided, leaving me with a load of anger and only one place to direct it. "Yeah, we should get going. Wouldn't want you to have to do any real fighting."
"What?" asked Owen, his eyes narrowing into a scowl. "I took out three of those cats while you were almost turned into fertilizer."
"Oh yes, you punched a couple of kittens in the face. You look like you got put through a meat grinder while you were doing it." I stomped down the road, not wanting to look at his smug face. "That fight should have been over in about three seconds. As easy as one, two, three blazing fireballs. Or you could have shifted into a freaking dragon and eaten them in about the same amount of time. But no! You decide to play with them like they're house cats and you're a ball of string. Why would you do that?"
He caught up in a blink and walked backward in front of me. "Because I didn't need to. We're fine." He turned his back to me, taking his turn at storming off.
We walked in silence for a few hundred feet, him stomping, and me boring holes into his back with my glare. I wanted to know exactly what that creature had been, but I wasn't willing to ask him.
The trees along the road thinned and the smell of rotting plants and stagnant water filled the air. A few more steps and the stench of swamp hit me like a wall. The hairs at the back of my neck prickled with the feeling of being watched. I hurried to catch up with Owen, no longer wanting to be alone. I had almost made it to him when a half dozen vines lashed around my body and hauled me off the road. Seconds later I was dumped unceremoniously into a shallow pool of fetid water. "Owen!" I shouted, as more vines wrapped around me and pulled me under the water.
The taste of rot and mud filled my mouth and shot down my throat. I fought the urge to cough until I pulled my head above the surface. Water heaved from my lungs in a burning torrent. The evil dryad looked down at me with satisfaction lighting her luminous eyes. Her arm had regrown. How long had it been? Minutes? Something Owen said about the creature feeding on decay tickled the back of my mind before I was flipped over. A warm weight settled on my back. "You'll pay for injuring me," a voice hissed in my ear. "I'll keep you alive while the shadowcats feast on your blood."
The sting of the creature's flowers bit into the back of my neck. I couldn't keep my face out of the water with the one hand I had free for much longer. She may not have wanted to kill me right away, but I didn't think she'd be too torn up about it if she did by accident. I had a choice to make. I could keep my head above the surface to fight off drowning while the dryad sapped me of strength, or I could fight for all I was worth. It wasn't much of a choice. I took a deep breath and let myself drop into the shallow pool. Prying at the vines got me nowhere, and I couldn't get to either of my swords.
In desperation, I flung my hand back to grab at the flowers steadily draining my energy. My fingers closed around one and I was repulsed to find it felt more like flesh than plant matter. I yanked with all the energy I had left and cringed when it released with a soft pop that reverberated through the water. The tension on the vines eased and I breached the surface, sucking in a breath. A loud screech pierced my eardrums. Apparently, losing its precious flower hurt. Plant lady punched me in the back of the head, causing me to see stars.
There was a loud splash before both the creature and I were dragged backward onto the mucky shore. "Hold on, Sophie. I'll get this thing off you."
"I thought you said she wouldn't come back," I spluttered. Never miss an opportunity to antagonize your allies while they're trying to save your ass. That's my motto. Thankfully, my survival instincts are almost as strong as my need for snark, and I gasped out something useful with my next breath. "Tear off the flower."
I craned my neck in time to see Owen catch a wicked elbow to the jaw that had him stumbling backward. His arms swung above his head as he fell, waving the flower he held in his hand. The evil dryad howled. There's nothing quite like the sound of your enemy's pain and frustration. The vines released me with enough speed to cause rope burn. The creature turned its back on me to focus on Owen.
That was a mistake.
My limbs were heavy, but I pulled myself to my feet and drew Epic from his sheath on my back. I took a steadying breath and put all the force I had behind a strike at her neck. Her head tumbled from her shoulders and landed with a wet plop in the muck at her feet. The body landed next to it a second later.
There weren't many creatures that could survive a beheading, but I kicked the head into the water and stared at the corpse until it shriveled and turned black. When I was sure it wasn't coming back, I slumped to my knees. "I don't think I'll ever eat a salad again."
Owen's hearty laugh brought a weary smile to my face. "You are a rare creature," he said, offering me a hand out of the mud.
That time I took it, mostly because I don't think I could have gotten up without his help. My cheeks burned at his comment. Rare. I liked the sound of that. Like having magic I barely understood and an attitude I couldn't keep in check made me somehow more valuable. "That almost sounded complimentary, Owen. I think I'm growing on you."
It was his turn to blush.
Owen peeled the shriveling vines from his arms and legs, his eyes keeping tabs on my wobbly stature the whole time.
Epic felt like he weighed a thousand pounds when I wiped him off and reached over my shoulder to slide him home. Those damned flowers had sucked away a lot more energy the second time and it was much slower to return. I wasn't in the mood for standing around though. When Owen shrugged away the last of the crumbling plant matter, I was ready to get moving again. "Let's get away from this disgusting swamp. I want to put a few miles behind us before we collapse for the night."
"Agreed."
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Owen summoned a fireball and tossed it casually into the pile of wood he'd stacked at the center of our campsite. The fire caught with a whoosh, orange flames pushing back the darkness.
It was nice. But him being nice only reminded me I was mad at him.
"So, you'll use your magic to warm your ass, but not to fight," I said, fingering the cut on my leg that probably wouldn't have happened if he had dealt with the shadowcats faster. "It makes no sense that you can throw fire, and when your life is on the line—when my life is on the line—you throw a punch."
His only answer was to grunt and move to the other side of the fire.
"No, that
's not going to cut it. I need an answer. You holding back could have gotten us killed. Going nonverbal right now is not acceptable."
He looked up from the fire and locked gazes with me. There was a sharpness there I didn't like. "I didn't see you pulling out any of your magic back there to help us. The Morrigan's daughter who isn't a banshee and can turn into a crow. What else can you do, Sophie?" He smelled the air. "Something neat, I'm pretty sure." He waited, knowing I wouldn't say anything. "Don't care to share? Do you want me poking at the reasons for that?"
Two could play the nonverbal game. My only answer was a warning growl.
Owen growled back—I hated to admit it, but his growl was much more intimidating. Scary, even. I found myself both drawn toward it and repelled. I wanted to dive into my own fear and see where it would lead. What was wrong with me? Whatever the cause, I felt my lips turn up in a grin. I'm pretty sure there's a whole book out there about how you shouldn't antagonize dragons. Maybe I should read it sometime. "You seem a little... hot-headed there, Owen." Nah, it was just too much fun.
He snorted a laugh, and smoke puffed out his nose.
I doubled over laughing, my hands clutching my stomach. "Oh, oh, that's too much."
He laughed with me, smoke still curling from his nostrils. "This is a normal body reaction," he said.
I nodded, attempting to look solemn. "I know it is, dragon."