Dragon with a Deadly Weapon

by Michael Angel

  Together, we picked our way through the maze of ruined cubicles. The smell of burnt fabric and spilt blood filled my nose as we moved across the office. At the rear of the room, wind whistled through the bullet holes punched through the safety glass.

  “Let me go first,” Esteban said, as we drew near the conference room. “I know they searched this place already, but something feels off.”

  The room held little more than what one would expect to see in a corporate office space. A birchwood conference table, matching cabinets and a set of mesh chairs sat atop a spread of Berber carpet. The cabinets had been hurriedly thrown open and the contents spilled across the floor. Sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows as the sun finally broke through the clouds.

  Esteban kept his hand close to his side, ready to draw his weapon. I didn’t blame him. As soon as we’d entered, I sensed it. The air inside felt charged, as if a mass of static electricity had built up to finger-zapping proportions.

  “I remember feeling this way,” Esteban mused, “just before Destry appeared in Shelly’s garden. Would this be…I don’t know, magical ‘residue’? Leftovers?”

  “It’s the sign of some serious spellcraft, that’s for sure. But the feeling you’re talking about dissipates as soon as magic gets invoked. This charged feel reminds me of something else I’ve encountered.”

  “What’s that?”

  I made a frustrated sound as another quiver ran through my fingers. “My brain’s not cooperating when I try to concentrate. Maybe I did have too much caffeine.”

  Alanzo reached out and squeezed my hand. It helped quiet my jitters. Not for the first or even hundredth time, I was profoundly grateful for his being here.

  “The state of those cabinets convinces me,” I finally said. “Our suspect here is Grayson Archer.”

  Esteban considered that. “I’m skeptical. But tell me why you’re so sure it’s him. Damon Harrison’s the dangerous one, the violent one. It could be him as well. Or someone new.”

  “Archer was desperately looking for something when I last saw him. Apparently, he wanted to get it away from Harrison. I’m pretty sure that ‘something’ is the custom firearm Archer had Nystrom create. The ‘Demon’. Maybe Archer’s still on the hunt.”

  “But shooting up people from his own company? That doesn’t make sense.”

  “It makes sense if it’s not his company anymore.”

  He gave me a look. “Now you’ve lost me.”

  “I know it’s a stretch,” I cautioned. “But Archer’s steered clear of hurting me or my friends. He bluffed me on torturing Shelly. When he took over my ‘case’ from McClatchy, he never did anything else to hinder my work. And it’s clear to me that he had no part in murdering Cohen or sending the men who shot Isabel.”

  I could see Esteban mulling it over. “I don’t know. You’re making a lot of assumptions here. It’s his name on the documents controlling this firm. Harrison was his underling.”

  “Maybe that changed.” A non-caffeine related shudder ran through me. “In fact, I don’t think Harrison was subordinate to Archer at all. What we saw was only what we were meant to see. I’d bet that those men Archer shot weren’t loyal to him at all.”

  “Okay, let’s say that you’re right. Does that help us figure out how Archer pulled an Elvis Presley and ‘left the building’?”

  I let out a breath. “I’m not sure that it does. It goes without saying that after he searched this room, he transported himself out of here via magic.”

  “Right. So, could he have done that from anywhere in the room? Does he have to face north whenever he casts a spell, stay away from broom closets, anything like that?”

  “From what I’ve seen in Andeluvia, the actual location of a spell doesn’t seem to matter. Someone like my friend Liam can track magic via the ‘spoor’ of a spell, but they can’t hone in on it easily without an artifact to work with.”

  “What about those custom-made bullets? Couldn’t your deer friend use those to track the shooter down?”

  “The casing was dropped before the magic was cast,” I corrected him. “Also, once the magic is cast, the spell’s over and done with…”

  Esteban gave me a look as my voice trailed off. Something was kicking around in the back of my head, but I was having problems getting my brain to spit it out. The zip of caffeine was helping to keep me upright, but it also created a kind of ‘fuzz’ that I had to force myself to push though.

  “Just…just hold on a second,” I said.

  I closed my eyes and visualized a clanking, smoking engine. The pistons were whirring out of control, spouting jets of steam while throwing out black clots of oil. I reached out and grasped the long brass handle marked ‘HALF SPEED’ and yanked as hard as I could on it. The motor bounced and yawed, threatening to rip out of its block mounts, but it finally settled down to a dull roar.

  My jaw clenched as my brain sent out a small click, and I had it.

  The memory I’d missed a few seconds earlier.

  “I know where I’ve sensed ‘charged’ feeling before,” I said. “It fills the entire cavern below Fitzwilliam’s palace. It’s where Queen Nagura took up residence. That charge came from a spell down there which wasn’t ‘over and done with’.”

  “What was it?” Esteban asked.

  “The kind used to hold open a magical bridge. Either between two locations on Earth, or between worlds. And I know where it had to have been cast.”

  I half-turned and pointed to the wall of windows.

  “You’re thinking that he turned a window into this ‘bridge’, then. I suppose it makes sense. Less chance of someone blundering into the thing and setting it off, right?”

  “Maybe. Let me take a closer look.”

  I knelt at the very edge of the carpet, where it abutted the window. Finally, I got a stroke of luck. Crossbow apparently hadn’t had the room vacuumed in a while, so a fine layer of white dust about an inch wide lay right up against the plates of safety glass. Also, none of the OME, LAPD, or K-9 members had disturbed things either.

  Esteban leaned against the doorway and kept watch on the outer room while I worked. I grabbed a face mask out of my case so that my breath wouldn’t contaminate the evidence. On a hunch, I also pulled out a bag containing sheets of silver-backed plastic and a miniature alligator clip on a cord. Then I returned to the window edge, slowly working my way along until I saw it.

  “There you are,” I murmured. “I bet you’re the key to how Archer got out of here.”

  Scrawled in the dust were four shapes. They were too small to have been made by a finger, so my guess was that Archer had used a stylus of some sort.

  Either way, I was going to lift those shapes so I could see them clearly. I opened my bag and carefully set one of the plastic sheets over the shapes, silver side down. Then I attached the alligator clip to one corner.

  “Alanzo,” I called, “Can I borrow your phone for a second? Mine’s back at the OME van.”

  “Sure thing,” he said, as he came over and gave me his phone. “If you plan to be here any longer, I can recommend some takeout places around here.”

  “That might come in handy later. But right now I just need the battery charge.”

  The alligator clip was attached to a cord with a special jack on the end. I slipped that into the right slot on the phone and the plastic film stiffened with a little crrrip!

  “Haven’t tried that trick in a while,” I explained. “It’s a quick and dirty way of creating an electrostatic dust lifter.”

  “Static? To lift dust?”

  “The plastic I’m using is impregnated with ferromagnetic particles. When the cord and clip is attached and draws power from something like a phone battery, it produces a strong static charge on the bottom side of the sheet.”

  “And that attracts the dust, I take it.”

  “If you want to get technical, it creates ‘electrostatic adhesions’. The dust particles get stuck to the plastic film and stay trap
ped there, even after the power source is removed.”

  I unclipped and returned Alanzo’s phone. Then I slowly turned over the plastic film. The outlines of the shapes drawn in the carpet dust came out crystal clear as dark patterns against the silver.

  Alanzo bobbed his head, impressed with the image. “Nicely done. They don’t look like any fingerprints I’ve ever seen, though. More like tile designs.”

  I nodded. I needed to grab my camera and record what I was seeing on the sheet, yet I couldn’t take my eyes off the four characters. One jumped out at me instantly.

  The seashell-flower pattern was there again, tantalizing me with its implications. I didn’t know what the other three meant. But I’d seen shapes like these before. I’d pored over them for hours without gaining much insight.

  “I’ve seen runes like this,” I breathed. “They were in the Codex of the Bellus Draconum.”

  “Does that mean what I think it means?” Esteban asked.

  I nodded. “Yes. I’m going to have to head back to Andeluvia. Otherwise, there’s no way we’re getting to the bottom of this.”

  Chapter Five

  It didn’t matter how many times I arrived to an Andeluvian meal with my three closest friends. The novelty never really wore off. Having breakfast around a table with a centaur, griffin, and magical stag always made me feel like I’d gone through the looking glass and ended up in Wonderland.

  I’d just stepped out of the transport spell’s white flash and into my Tower Room when I came face to face with a gigantic pile of flapjacks. At least they looked somewhat like flapjacks. The golden-brown cakes taking center stage on the room’s table were thin and flat, but each one was as big around as a manhole cover.

  My friends were in the process of devouring them. Galen pushed out the bench closest to me. I sat down, not taking my eyes off the pile. A sweet aroma, part fruit and part grain, made my stomach sit up at attention.

  “Dayna, your timing is impeccable,” the Wizard said. “The royal pages were kind enough to drop off a large enough supply of comestibles for everyone.”

  “I certainly hope so!” I exclaimed, as I pointed to the pile. “What in the world is this?”

  Liam, who stood at the opposite end of the table, pulled his muzzle away from his plate. Both of his eyes – the brown right and green left – sparkled with good humor.

  “I’m told that these are called ‘harrowcakes’. All I can tell you is that they’re delicious!”

  “Aye, they’ll give thee well-needed ballast,” Shaw agreed.

  The drake’s serving came heaped in a wheelbarrow. It looked like someone had used a shovel to toss them in, but Grimshaw didn’t seem to mind. His beak cut wide swathes through the golden pile with little effort, allowing him to gulp down a cake in two or three snaps.

  Galen cut a thick triangle out of the stack on the table and placed it on a clean plate. He slathered on a layer of butter, following it up with a tablespoon of blackberry jam. The Wizard graciously slid the plate in front of me.

  I cut a chunk off with my fork and then realized that I’d have to turn it on one side before I could fit it in my mouth. But the most I’d had for breakfast today was the cup of ‘You’re going to regret it’ coffee from Officer Ullenbach, so I was up to the challenge. I chewed, swallowed, and broke out in a smile.

  “What do you think?” Liam asked, as his tongue swiped away golden crumbs from the end of his little black deer nose.

  In truth, it was a bit heavy and grainy for my taste. But I did need what Shaw called ‘ballast’. I proceeded to plow my way through the portion on my plate, ignoring the occasional ‘caffeine shimmies’ that made my fork quiver.

  Once I was able to focus on something besides stuffing my mouth, I noticed a new addition to Galen’s normal attire. A copper-colored chain with a sparkly pendant dangled about the centaur’s neck.

  “What’s with the new jewelry?” I asked, between bites. “I don’t think I’ve seen you create anything like that before.”

  That was an understatement. The Wizard normally worked his magic on plain round silver or gold medallions. The item he wore today was a lifelike interpretation of a bronze oak leaf, complete with garnet-colored inlays that mimicked veins.

  “I suppose one might think of this as a ‘compromise’ of sorts,” Galen replied, as he held the pendant up by its chain. “This is the result of a joint effort between me and Protector Liam. The first ever fusion of fey magical energy and wizardly talisman, though I daresay it shall not be the last!”

  “And it does what, exactly?” I prompted.

  “It detects a specific kind of magic spoor,” Liam answered. “Remember when you found that shard of ruby next to the weapon that slew Police Chief Sims?”

  I set my fork down and pushed my plate away. “I’m not going to forget that anytime soon.”

  “Well, neither I nor Galen were ever able to use it to lead us back to its point of origin. Too many spells have been cast on or around it, ruining the spoor. But we reasoned that another type of detection–”

  The Wizard cleared his throat. “To be precise, I was the one who reasoned this out.”

  I bit my lip so that I wouldn’t crack up. Galen normally didn’t go out of his way to toot his own horn. But if there was one thing he took pride in, it was his wizardry. If the centaur had managed to out-do a natural magical tracker like a fayleene, he’d certainly be sure others knew about it.

  Liam rolled his eyes and continued.

  “That is, the Court Wizard reasoned that we could powder the crystal and embed it into a scrying pendant. That way, we’ll know if we get close to the Heart – or Hearts of the Mother.”

  “You’ve both been busy,” I said admiringly. “This is going to come in handy, I know it.”

  “We weren’t the only busy ones. What have you done with yourself, Dayna?” Liam canted his head in that cute way of his, a concerned look on his noble stag face. “You humans get this strange dark coloration under the eyes when tired.”

  I let out a sigh. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “As sure as anything. Now I need to fill you in on another development.”

  I paused as Shaw nudged my arm with his beak. He placed his leonine paw on the edge of my plate. Said plate still contained a large chunk of harrowcake mixed with butter and jam. His voice came out in a rumbly purr.

  “Art thou going to eat that?”

  I set the plate on the floor. “It’s all yours, big guy.”

  The sounds of a pleased griffin chowing down burbled up from under the table. I did my best to ignore them and focused on relating the events at Crossbow headquarters earlier this morning.

  “Perplexing,” Galen murmured. “This does not appear to be a logical move for either Archer or Harrison.”

  “Oh, ‘tis an easy explanation,” Grimshaw said, after devouring the last of my leftovers. The griffin let out a deep belch. “If Archer is thy suspect, a madness of one sort or another afflicts his brain.”

  “Archer’s actions leave me at a loss,” Liam put in. “Yet, he has never come across as…well, unhinged. From what you’ve said, he’s actually been a counter to McClatchy’s insanity.”

  I pulled a plastic bag containing a set of printed photos from my pocket and handed it Galen. “Regardless, I could use your help in identifying the marks I lifted from the dust on the carpet.”

  Galen’s eyebrows shot up. “One is certainly a wizard’s mark. The others…appear to be runes similar to ones in the Codex. Protector, might I request your help in this matter?”

  Liam nodded. “If this relates to the texts of prophecy, I’m certainly interested.”

  “That’s good,” I said, as I got up and walked over to our chalkboard. Much of it had been crossed out by now. But several key items remained.

  Six, in fact.

  Three jumped out as if laughing at me for being too dense to understand their hidden meaning.

  Chapter Si
x

  The words I’d chalked on the board tantalized me with their secrets. As though they were trying to get me to understand what they meant before it was too late. And it was that ‘running late’ feeling that had led the way into so many of my sleepless nights.

  WHO IS GRAYSON ARCHER? Aside from my hunch that he was a former Andeluvian who practiced magic, I hadn’t gotten any further with this question.

  We’d also gotten nowhere with the prophetic dream of mine, Two wizards in combat. In fact, that had led us into a confrontation with the Deliberati. Something that still hadn’t been fully resolved.

  And the less said about Dayna goes to the beach the better. My weary brain knew that if that was a prophecy, it damn well wasn’t going to happen anytime this century.

  I pointed to each of the three remaining phrases we’d heard from Belladonna of the Reykajar Aerie.

  “The dream horses sow the seeds of their fall,” I intoned. “That’s what the unicorns called themselves. I still believe this referred to the murder of Master Dekanos.”

  “I would tend to agree,” Galen said. “What worries me is the intent of the next line.”

  “The humans dwell upon the bones of their nemesis,” I read. “Why does that worry you?”

  “This palace was once the Holy City of the Hakseeka. Only when the Hakseeka crumbled away to dust did the humans arrive to dwell within. To live upon the ‘bones’, so to speak, of the ancient wyvern kingdom.”

  Another chill ran down my back. Given how this was the third or fourth time a chill had done that today, my spine was going to get freezer burn. But the Wizard had a good point.

  “You may be on to something there. Only I doubt that Queen Nagura or her people are the humans’ nemesis.”

  “That is problematic,” Galen admitted. “Nagura has been nothing but humble and helpful, even when returning to her species’ former place of glory.”

  “Aye,” Shaw nodded vigorously. “If she were indeed a foe in friend’s clothing, then the former Queen is cunning beyond belief!”

  “Let’s put a pin in that one for now,” I sighed. “What about this final bit? One who might yet save us lies beyond the light of the hearth.”