Dragonsword

by Chloe Garner

  “It is. There are those of our kind who read the mountains. There is a shape that dragons take. Carter is the greatest dragon who has ever lived. Your kha’shing bears the traits, as well.”

  “Why is it important to Brandt?” Samantha asked.

  “It’s unlikely he knew who he was hunting, at first. He is an unpolished rube who thought he would snatch your psychic from under your nose,” Nuri said. She had a voice like melted butter that made it sound like there was an inevitability to her words. Brandt would never have gotten Sam, because Nuri spoke derisively of the plan. “At some point he learned, and he was… induced to be involved in something much larger.”

  “What?”

  Nuri rolled her head to look at Samantha, bright white teeth and eyes like ghosts against her dark skin.

  “Has your Jason ever been possessed?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “They took Sam.”

  “Yes.”

  “And they even managed to take you.”

  Samantha frowned.

  “Yes.”

  “But never him.”

  “No.”

  Nuri nodded meaningfully and looked back up at the ceiling.

  “They were using him to figure out how to possess Carter,” Samantha said.

  “They could never contain Carter for long enough,” Nuri said. “Certainly. It is said that we have possessed kha before, but the knowledge has died away. I do not know if it is true or not, but I believe that every man has a key that will allow a demon to step across into him.”

  “Is that faith or science?” Samantha asked. The teeth flashed.

  “It is somewhere in between.”

  She spoke slowly. There was so much meaning there, so much unsaid. Millennia of history in just a few words. Samantha accepted it.

  “What happens when someone possesses a dragon?” Samantha asked.

  “Spoils that no one has seen before,” Nuri said.

  “I can’t protect Jason from that,” Samantha said. Nuri shook her head.

  “You must teach him to protect himself,” she said.

  “How?”

  Nuri’s beautiful eyes turned to her, honest, simple.

  “You know the answer to that.”

  <><><>

  “Your brother is in a lot of trouble,” Kjarr said as Sam struggled through the parts of Jason’s story he was willing to share.

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know yet, though I suspect Nuri and Sam will have it figured out by the time they’re done.” He shook his hair, golden curls catching the light as he took another drink. “With the things going on around here lately…”

  “What’s going on?” Sam asked.

  “Power,” Kjarr said, settling deeper into his chair. Sam didn’t think demons felt the effects of liquor, but Kjarr had the sullen attitude of the nearly-drunk: still aware, but at the stage where the drink was tearing open things that were normally papered over.

  Sam waited. Kjarr ran the ice in his glass in circles around the bottom of it.

  “Demons plan. We’ve always been planners. Angels don’t have that burden. They traipse in and out, not a care in the world. They just do what they’re told. We have to look out for ourselves, because no one else is.”

  He filled his glass again and offered the crystal container to Sam. Sam put his glass out and Kjarr poured him another half glass.

  “We live well here. Everyone wants to do what we’ve done. But they have so much more time than we do. They plan for eons and we have years to react. They plan for decades and we have minutes. There is always a battle, but someone is in the end game stage of a chess match we haven’t even started.” His fingers tapped on the glass, soft padding of dry, rough skin against the worked crystal.

  “And you think it has to do with Jason?”

  “You just pulled him out of the biggest hellsgate built in ten generations, didn’t you?”

  “Technically, he got himself out,” Sam said. Kjarr chortled.

  “I suppose he did.”

  He laughed louder, and smacked Sam’s knee a couple more times.

  “He did, didn’t he?”

  <><><>

  They had fallen silent, each in their own thoughts, as so often happened with them. It was going to be a long road, but at least she knew the why and the who.

  Save Carter.

  The soft voice of an old man standing in the sun. She closed her eyes.

  It made sense. Dragons were notorious for having firm will. If she had to describe the type of person who should be hard to possess, it would be exactly a dragon. Men who were self-centered, self-motivated, and who generally expected the world to bend around them.

  “Your new gray demon is a charming creature,” Nuri said. “Terrified, but…” There was a long pause. “Why did you bring her across?”

  “I wanted to.”

  Nuri blinked sedately, watching her. There was a flicker of a smile and she looked away again.

  “I have many reasons for liking you, but your surprises are perhaps my favorite.”

  “Is it surprising?” Samantha asked.

  “You are such a rigid adherent to the rules of this plane, and then you break them unexpectedly, because it’s completely within the rules.”

  There was another long pause.

  “I understand you are carrying angeldust.”

  “Yes.”

  “May I see?”

  Samantha sat up and pulled the satchel from behind her where it had settled. The gold chain was the same temperature as her skin, warm to her hands, and rolled smoothly across her waist without catching. It was easy to forget that it was there; it was intended to be permanent, but not a punishment. She looked up at Nuri, then flipped the satchel open. Nuri sat forward to look into it.

  “The things I would give to put a drop of my blood into that,” she said. Samantha didn’t flinch - the woman had never given her a reason to mistrust her - but she readied herself in case she did need to react. Nuri sat back again and cast her arm across the back of her chair.

  “You know many couriers take a portion for themselves.”

  “I don’t want to be responsible for angeldust,” Samantha said. “I wouldn’t have taken it, except that you’re right.”

  Nuri pursed her lips faintly, then looked away again.

  “How many burdens will you carry, at the end?”

  “I’m not alone anymore,” Samantha said.

  “Does that help?” Nuri answered.

  “Yes,” Samantha said.

  <><><>

  They talked about New York politics - the demonic flavor - in a more lighthearted tone for another twenty minutes, then Kjarr stood. Sam had just gotten confirmation from Samantha that the conversation outside was done.

  “How did you know?” Sam asked.

  “Know what?” Kjarr asked as he took Sam’s glass.

  “That it was time?”

  He heard the crisp noise as Kjarr grinned.

  “When you live with a woman as long as I have, you don’t need magic to know her mind. But we have that, too.”

  Sam winced against the light from outside, waiting for his eyes to adjust before following Kjarr back into the main office.

  “You two have the world figured out?” Kjarr asked.

  “You know we wouldn’t tell you if we did,” Nuri said. Kjarr shook Sam’s hand and hugged Samantha.

  “Be safe,” he said. “There are a lot of demons over-estimating what they can do, these days, and it only takes one mistake to prove one right.”

  “If not safe, at least careful,” Samantha answered.

  The demon at the door glowered at them.

  “Do you want to get a drink?” Samantha asked as they reached the bar.

  “I’m fine,” Sam said. He would have liked to have sat with her in one of the dark corners and just… sat… like they had from time to time while Jason was gone, but Jason would be going stir crazy at the apartment, and Sam was feeling less conf
ident than he had an hour ago. “Did you get what you needed?”

  “I did,” she said.

  “What parts can you tell me?”

  “I have to train Jason,” Samantha said.

  “Aren’t you already doing that?”

  “Differently,” Samantha said.

  “That sounds ominous.”

  “It is,” she said. “I have to turn him gray.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “They’re going to keep coming after him. The only way I can keep them off of him permanently is to make him too powerful to be worth it, and the only way to do that is to make him one of us.”

  “What about me?” Sam asked.

  She stopped in the middle of the hallway - a spot she never stopped if she could help it - and turned to face him, putting her hands up on his face.

  “Beloved, there are three sides, the light, the dark, and the gray, and then there is the vast majority of humanity. I’m not going to give up on you being unaligned.” He was listening harder to her mind than her words. Something in there was spinning at ninety miles an hour, and training Jason was only a small part of it, but out of that cloud of planning and worry, there was a sharp reprimand. Not an unkind one, but a sharp one all the same. “I don’t want you in our politics and our fights. I want you to be able to pick your own fights.”

  “You think Jason won’t pick his own fights?” Sam asked.

  “You think you’re Jason?” she answered. Something about what he said struck home, but he wasn’t sure what. He wasn’t fighting - nor was she - but he wanted to understand. And he didn’t want to be left behind. Samantha sent him a wave of warmth and an unusually strong sense of possessiveness. She usually kept that as quiet as she could - it embarrassed her - but he was hardly secretive with his own. It was comforting.

  They went on.

  <><><>

  “Okay, so more training,” Jason said. “I can do that.”

  Samantha pressed her lips together and sipped at her glass of water. She was dressed for a workout - halter top and loose pants - and Sam was sitting on the bed, unable to tear his eyes off her abs. She was softening some with the less-intense and less-regular workouts since Jason returned, and her body had lost some of the desiccated shape it had had for a while. He wanted to put his hands on her.

  “It isn’t like that, really,” she said. “Sam, cut it out.”

  “Not my fault,” he answered. She glared at him, but wasn’t able to lie; she liked the attention. Her focus spiked and her mind moved away from him. Sam turned to watch Jason.

  “Before, it was just about making you stronger. Going gray is harder. And it isn’t just about training. There are things you have to learn how to do that people aren’t supposed to be able to do.”

  Jason drew Anadidd’na and ran his thumb down the edge of the blade.

  “I can do that,” he said. There was a shock of despair as Samantha nodded.

  “I know.”

  Samantha drew Lahn and worked the blade through the air in a casual pattern.

  “The first thing on the list is that you need to be able to cross to the hellplane and back on your own.”

  Sam thought he saw a flicker of hesitation go across Jason’s face, but his brother nodded.

  “Okay.”

  “Go to Hellcity. I want you to be seen there.”

  “Okay.”

  The stress broke through Samantha’s discipline.

  “You know how to get back?”

  “It’s okay, Sweetheart. I’ll be fine.”

  Jason had never crossed without Samantha pushing him across. Sam had done it once by accident, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to do it again on purpose, if he tried. He wondered if Jason could.

  Samantha sighed.

  “So. The incentive. Drink this.”

  She handed him a glass of water and he took a swallow. She shook her head.

  “All of it.”

  In large gulps, Jason drained the rest of it and handed her the glass. She put it on the counter.

  “It’s deadweight, if you want to think of it like that. You drop it by crossing. Do you understand?”

  Jason was frowning. He held up his hand in front of his face, flexing his fingers. Samantha gently took Anadidd’na and put her into the sheath on his back, then turned to face Jason.

  “I’m sorry.”

  He raised his head to look at her, and she sprang at him, punching him in the face. He instinctively answered, but his arms moved like a man twice his size with half the muscle. Samantha dodged easily, hitting him in his exposed side. It didn’t get any better from there. Jason was too slow to defend himself, and for the first thirty seconds, Jason kept trying to counter attack.

  He was so slow.

  Samantha wailed on him as he tried to find a new strategy, something that would protect him, and Sam was about ready to step in and defend Jason when suddenly Jason’s hand shot out and caught Samantha’s wrist.

  “You don’t pull any, do you?” he coughed, doubling over.

  “No.”

  She took a step back, giving him space, and Sam felt the creeping guilt as she transitioned from action to reaction. She knew what she was doing, but she felt terrible about it when she thought about it.

  “You okay?” Sam asked.

  “I been pummeled before, dude,” Jason said.

  “Yeah, but you’ve never been that slow.”

  “That was unreal,” Jason said, going to lean against the wall and holding his arm around his stomach. “He did that to you?”

  “Lover, we’re just getting started,” Samantha said. “How did it feel?”

  “Like it always does,” Jason said. “Dry.”

  She nodded.

  “It is that. You want to sleep or move?”

  “Are those the options?”

  “If you’ve got another idea…”

  Jason straightened from the wall and shook himself. Sam went to get his laptop and booted it up.

  “I need a shower,” Jason said. Samantha nodded.

  “Take your time.”

  Samantha came to sit next to Sam.

  “I’m going to see if he’s got anything on the thirsty man,” Sam said. Samantha nodded.

  “He’s going to be the one that falls off my radar, if we aren’t careful,” she said. Sam glanced at her and shrugged.

  “Maybe he should.”

  “That’s a strange thing to say.”

  “Maybe you should let someone else worry about him.”

  “Who?”

  Sam shrugged.

  “I’ll take care of him for now. He turns up, I’ll let you know. We’ll go kill him. But just drop him off your list, okay?”

  She dropped her head onto his shoulder and nodded.

  “Okay.”

  I need better communication from you, Kerk said as Sam logged in. It was like he had been sitting, waiting for Sam to show up. His temper spiked and Samantha teased at him silently. He was letting the over-eager nerd get to him.

  We’ve had other things going on, Sam answered. I know that isn’t normal, but it’s what we do.

  Look, if you don’t want to do this, I’ve got better things to do with my time. If you want a Seeker, though, I’m the only one you’re going to get. You went rogue. Grow up and deal with the consequences.

  “Demons make great hackers,” Samantha murmured. It made Sam laugh, but he was still too angry to answer for several seconds.

  I’ve got three jobs lined up for you, and I need you in Phoenix tonight, Kerk continued.

  That’s not going to happen. Sam answered. We’re in New York.

  Awesome. You were in Kansas the last anyone saw you. I need to know where you are at all times.

  That’s not how we work.

  It’s how I work.

  “And we’re on probation,” Sam muttered.

  “Should I point out that you just volunteered to work with this guy to take a load of worry off of me?” Samantha asked.


  You can say it as often as you want, Sam said. It doesn’t change anything. I know we need your help. I’m asking for it. But you can’t just tell us what to do.

  About time someone did.

  “Charming,” Samantha said. “Is it okay if he doesn’t make both of us homicidally angry? I’m going to go work out.”

  “Go on,” Sam said. He looked at the screen for a long time.

  You can say whatever you want about us, Kerk. We put our lives on the line, and I have no regrets about what we did. It was a lie, but it was true enough to tell Kerk. You leave Simon out of this. He did right by us and he did a great job. He paused, considering, then finished it. There is a line, and you just crossed it. You stay on the other side of it, or we will go rogue again and I’ll make it clear to whatever friends we still have in the Rangers that it was because of you.

  It was a good threat. Jason had lots of friends. Rangers looked down on rogues the way Sam imagined the police would look down on vigilantes, but Jason had gotten drunk with - and subsequently brawled drunkenly with - easily half of the Rangers working today. That kind of thing bought a certain amount of leeway, whether or not Sam understood why.

  He let you get away with too much, Kerk answered after a few minutes. I won’t tolerate it. But you are the best there is, and if I have to pretend that he was in the right to keep you from doing something childish, that’s what I’ll do.

  Sam’s mouth dropped open and Samantha snickered.

  “That good?”

  “He’s something else,” Sam said.

  “It’s easier when you don’t read what he says,” Samantha said.

  “I bet.”

  I need to know if you found anything about the thirsty man, Sam said.

  At least six to eight weeks between victims, Kerk said. I’ll e-mail you when something pops up, but it’s going to be a while.

  Text me, please. Sam hated to think that he needed to say it, but he did. He was angry, anyway. This is important. I need this to not be a football. If you send someone else after him and they actually catch up to him, they are going to get themselves killed.

  I suspect you vastly overestimate your importance, Kerk said, but I heard you the first time. I won’t send it to someone else unless I’ve got a real lead and you make yourself unreachable.

  Sam growled and started his answer.