by Maribel Fox
“I’m not certain,” I admit reluctantly. “I read a story once that talked about a type of dragon that came into its powers at one thousand years of age, but I can’t remember more than that. I think it might be relevant to my friend—”
“The fox?” Alistair asks, arching a brow.
“You know him?”
“I enjoy variety. The Shamrock isn’t the only place I go for a drink.”
I consider that for a moment, even consider pointing out that The Drowning Duck Diner doesn’t serve alcohol, but then I’m positive Alistair will have a response for that as well. He’s very smooth — a common effect of having lived so many centuries — and though I consider myself rather intelligent, witty even at times, when it comes to Alistair, there’s no doubt I’m out-classed.
He’s close with the Faerie Queen, though, which makes me think he’s trustworthy.
Besides, anyone that has a library like this is okay in my books.
The door chimes at the front of his shop, and Alistair perks up, peering through the open doorway from our place in the back. The front of his building is Bathory Antiquities, an antiques shop that seems to have all manner of interesting artifacts — I’d like to look at them in depth some day, to study what he’s got, learn what I can. Maybe convince him to adopt a real cataloging system. ‘In my head’ isn’t a universally recognized method.
From the front of the shop, there’s a staircase that leads to Alistair’s apartment — somewhere I’ve never been — and then there’s the back of the shop, his private study and library. It’s back here that he has a welcoming arrangement of couches and settees, a fireplace that’s been crackling every time I come here. The close quarters, the flickering firelight, the smell of parchment, aging paper and glue, a hint of smoke — it’s such a cozy little lair.
I look away from the book in my hand, staring out the window at the hills beyond the bay.
A lair would be nice. A real lair. I have a hoard where I keep my jewels and treasures, but it’s no place to settle down, no place to have a mate…
Not this again, I think to myself, practically rolling my eyes in my head.
It’s that woman. She’s the one that has me thinking these things again. She’s the one that’s rekindled old desires, made me forget the lessons I learned the hard way.
But I can’t stop thinking about her, spread out on that picnic table, her eyes drawing me in.
Don’t you want me?
The memory is enough to make me clench, my dragon aching to join with another of our kind.
Yes, I want her. That shouldn’t even be a question. The problem is that she’s also a dragon.
And I know how dragons mate.
There are half a dozen dragon males for every dragon female. Perhaps ages and ages ago, it was because there were bloody fights over mates, but what eventually came of it is harems.
A dragon queen chooses her harem, and they belong to her — it’s a fairly primitive way of doing things if you ask me. What’s the problem with two-way consent?
But that’s not really the problem. Because of the way all this works — when a dragon queen is ready to add to her harem, she sends out the mating beacon, drawing available males to her like bears to honey — the idea of being in a harem for my queen isn’t an off-putting one.
On the contrary, it’s been my deepest desire for most of my life.
As they say, be careful what you wish for.
The real problem with dragon harems is the internal hierarchy. The youngest member, the newest member — often one and the same — is subjected to constant abuse and torment by the other dragons. There’s no jealousy, but there is a fight for superiority, and it’s a fight I have no interest in.
I also have no interest in ignoring the fight and allowing myself to be mistreated.
It isn’t mistreatment in the eyes of dragon society though. The other males, the queen herself, none of them see problems with the barrage of abuse.
Hey, you don’t just go to sleep for hundreds of years without a reason. I realized what the reality of my deepest, most fondly-held dream was, and I decided it wasn’t for me after all. But without the hope of a harem, without the promise of one day having a mate and lair of my own, what’s the point of being awake?
I shove aside those melancholy thoughts. I’m going to go back to sleep as soon as I can, but first I have to figure out what’s going on with this woman. Free her so she can torment someone else’s dreams.
Perhaps it’s time to refocus my attention from Iseul’s mystery to my own.
“Alistair?” I call, heading to the front of the shop. He’s with a customer — the owner of the diner, I think, the crusty old lady who bosses Isuel around.
“That should do the trick,” he says to her, handing over a box. “If not, come back and we’ll figure out something else.”
“’Preciate it,” she says with a stiff nod and a leery look my way.
“Did you need something, Ku?” Alistair asks, making me feel more like I’ve been caught eavesdropping than I did a minute ago. That’s not what’s happening here, though. I shouldn’t feel so guilty.
“I’m wondering if you have any texts on shared dreams?”
“Perhaps,” he says, wandering back to the library without another word. I think I’m expected to follow, so I do. He navigates the mini-maze of tall, solid oak shelves, stopping purposefully in one spot with a studious look. “What type of dream—”
The bell above the door chimes again, and he makes a face.
“Judith may have forgotten something,” he says, holding up a finger to excuse himself.
He gets two steps before we both hear, “Alistair!” in a tiny voice.
I follow him out, his suspicious look enough to pique my curiosity.
“What’s wrong Ian?” the vampire asks. The young boy is breathing heavily — I wouldn’t be surprised if he ran the whole way down the hill — and his boots are covered in bits of grass and mud, no regard for Alistair’s clean shop floor.
“Hi Ku,” Ian says with a wave my way. I wave back. “Have either of you guys seen Iseul?”
“Is something wrong?” I ask, instantly worried for my friend.
Ian shrugs. “I dunno. He asked for a big fancy birthday dinner, but no one’s seen him all day!”
“That doesn’t sound like Is,” I mutter, frowning to myself. I wish I could’ve found that story I was looking for!
“Yeah, well, Micah says he’s gonna throw him in a portal to nowhere if all the food goes to waste,” Ian says, bouncing on his toes, his hands twisting in front of him. “I know he’s mad, but… I like Iseul,” he adds, chewing on his bottom lip.
“I’m afraid I haven’t seen him,” Alistair says apologetically. “And I know he seems nice enough, but this wouldn’t be the first time someone was tricked by a fox.”
I’m compelled to jump to Iseul’s defense, but arguing over it right now makes little sense.
“Okay, thanks,” says Ian. “I’ll keep looking!” At least he still believes the best of my friend. Ian leaves, running out into the misty gray rain, and I can’t help but dwell on the situation.
It really seems out of character for Iseul to miss this dinner. From what I could tell, he was thoroughly excited about it, and I was planning on heading to The Shamrock soon to join him.
Okay, I’d been planning on it before I got distracted by the puzzle again, but hearing that no one can find him has me concerned.
“I think I’m going to leave as well,” I announce, thoughts stuck on Iseul. Maybe I can track him down. Just to make sure he’s alright. Alistair makes a face, but doesn’t argue with me at all. He nods silently as I head out of the shop, and when I look back, I can see he’s already going to the supply closet to clean up the mess left behind by Ian.
Walking down the sidewalk, I clear my mind, and focus on my connection to the earth. Reaching through the land with my power, I start searching, seeking out Iseul’s presence. I’m sending feelers
out further and further looking for the fox, but the more I spread out my awareness, the weirder everything starts to feel.
This isn’t right.
There’s something in the earth here I’ve never felt before — like veins of power threading through everything. Normally, I’d think it’s Fae magic, but there’s no way. There’s no way these vibrant, hungry fingers of power could be Fae. Fae magic is a pale, weak imitation of whatever this it.
I’m desperate to reach out and grab it; something stops me. Something warns me to find out more first.
Always find out more. As much as you can before making any decisions. Informed decisions are decisions you don’t regret later.
Lupine Bay strikes me as an odd town, even in these unfamiliar times. It’s been a long time since I’ve been awake and above ground, but this town seems to have an unusually high concentration of magic when compared to the rest of the world. And it’s not just the Fae Court — though there’s plenty of magic there, too — but there’s Alistair, who’s obviously a vampire, Iseul, a fox, Rue, who has the whiff of witchcraft on her…
What is it about this place?
It’s enough put together that I would not be at all surprised to find out there’s enough power in this town to contain a half-dragon woman.
But where is she?
Before I know it, I’m on the path back to Brigid’s, a path that takes me through sparse forest, past a few scattered picnic tables, and curves around to the cliffside.
Suddenly, I stop.
I know this place.
And not just because I’ve been staying at Brigid’s for a couple of weeks and have walked the grounds a few times.
I know this place. I’ve been here before.
It’s the spot from my dreams. Where I met her. Right here. On this picnic table…
I drag my fingertips along the wood, tracing the whorls in the grain, staring deep into it like I’m going to see her there again.
Here, though?
I don’t know what to think about that. It lends a little more weight to my theory that she’s being held in town somewhere, except…
In my dream she wasn’t being held against her will or restrained. She was out in the open here, unbound, naked, free…
She could have just run away then.
It makes no damn sense. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m missing some crucial part of the puzzle and it’s driving me insane. There’s nothing worse than an unsolved puzzle. It’s like an itch you can’t scratch. Standing in this clearing and staring at the picnic table is making me angry, so I continue on down the path, no real destination in mind.
Soon, I come upon a small river — hardly more than a babbling stream, to be honest — and it’s moving downhill at a swift pace, dropping over the edge of the cliff in a cloud of mist that’s not quite enough water to be a fall. This time of year, the river is narrow and shallow, and some of the flat rocks that are normally underwater are now at the river’s edge, perfect little seats on the edge of a pool made by a switchback.
Iseul’s perched on the edge of one of the flat rocks, his legs dangling in the water — water which I’m sure has to be near ice, though he doesn’t seem bothered by it. His face is pinched, eyes screwed shut, and he’s hunched over, his spine curved forward with his arms wrapped around his midsection, rocking slightly back and forth, his body momentarily overcome by convulsions every few seconds like he’s seizing.
I sit on the opposite bank of the river, giving him his space. I don’t know exactly what he’s going through — since I never did find that story about his kind — but I’ve got an idea, and it’s not a fun time. He shouldn’t be alone.
After another round of convulsions trembles through him, Is looks up with only his eyes, arms tightening around himself. Lifting one pale and shaking hand, he shoves his hair out of his face, and I can’t help but wince. He looks like he’s freezing, and I’m sure the cold water can’t be helping, but telling him that right now seems asinine.
“Hi,” he says through clenched teeth.
“Happy Birthday.”
He snorts. “Not sure how happy it’s gonna be.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
He shrugs, setting off a new round of shivers that make me want to offer to conjure him a cloak.
I don’t have all the information I hoped to, but I have enough to take a chance. Maybe I can get the rest out of him with some gentle prodding.
“You’re maturing, aren’t you?” I ask. I know there’s something about his type of dragon going through some major changes on this birthday — what those changes are and why it seems like such a bad time for Is, though, that’s a mystery still.
“I guess that’s one way to put it,” he says, a humorless laugh following.
“Is there pain?” I ask, tilting my head to the side. I couldn’t find much in Alistair’s library, but that doesn’t mean I can’t create a reference for the future.
“I think only because I’m resisting it,” he says, gritting his teeth as he doubles over again.
“Well why are you doing that?” Being a dragon has got to be a step up from fox, right? Why fight your nature?
“I don’t… I don’t really know what’ll happen,” Is says, his face shiny with sweat, twisted with effort. “I don’t wanna hurt anyone.”
“That’s fair,” I say with a nod. Perhaps if I’d found more information about his type, I could reassure him, but there’s no point in lying to him when I don’t know the truth. He could be a danger to others. It’s thoughtful to isolate himself until he knows for sure.
“So sitting alone in the woods, then,” I say, nodding again.
Iseul shrugs. “Felt like I needed to be near the water. Dunno why.”
“Oh, that makes sense,” I say, not sure why it’s confusing to him. He’s a water dragon after all. Of course he wants to be near the water.
Is looks up at me, his face confused still, expression like I’m talking nonsense like it’s sense. “Riiiight…” he mutters, drawing his knees up to his chest, his toes still in the water.
“Does anyone else know what’s going on with you?”
“The local Court,” he says, groaning with another wince. “Thought they should know in case… You know… I get out of hand.”
I frown, leaning forward a bit.
“Just what kind of dragon do you think you are?”
Is stares at me, blinking.
“Dragon?”
“Isn’t that what we’re talking about?” I ask, thoroughly confused, his expression matching my feelings.
“I’m a Kumiho — at a thousand, I become a fox-demon and…”
“Start craving human flesh, of course,” I finish, nodding along. “That explains your concern for others… Wow, two big birthdays at once, huh?”
He’s still staring at me.
“You’re also a dragon—”
“Ah!” Is cries out, crumpling forward and writhing. He’s too close to falling into the icy river for my liking, and I splash over, ready to catch him should he need it.
“Hey, Is, it’s—” I reach out to touch him, and the moment my hand rests on his shoulder, I’m sucked away from this world, yanked into the dream world — this time the nightmare world.
There’s fire everywhere, flames surrounding me, but I’m not alone. Is is here too. And the succubus lady. Is doesn’t seem to notice either of us, clutching at his gut, everything too painful for him to even open his eyes. The beautiful lady is frustrated when she looks at him, like she’s standing on the wrong side of glass to do anything.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with him,” she huffs, lips twisted into a bow of worry.
“He’s transforming.”
“You know him?” she asks, whipping her head around, long ebony hair filling my senses with the scent of lotus blossoms.
“Yeah, of course. But he’ll be okay in a couple minutes. It’s you I’ve been wanting to talk to!” I start toward her, but the woma
n backs away, eyes going wide.
“I don’t even know you!”
That shouldn’t hurt — it’s the truth after all. We’ve never met, don’t know each other’s names, and yet, I feel like we know each other. I feel like I owe her something. Help, at the very least.
“I just want to help you escape, but I don’t know where you are,” I say, heart in my throat. This is the most I’ve gotten to talk to her. Maybe I’m finally getting somewhere.
She looks uncertain, eyes darting around, even though there’s only flames all around us. Nothing else to see.
“I’m nowhere you can follow,” she finally says, licking her lips.
“How do you know where I can travel?”
Her violet eyes narrow. “Make a habit of traveling to Hell, do ya smarty pants?”
I scowl, her snark taking me aback, but her answer as well… I stagger back a step.
“How can that be?” I mutter to myself, shaking my head. “The last time we spoke, you were in Lupine Bay… It makes no sense…”
“What?” she asks sharply, head snapping up, eyes fiercely searching mine.
Of course that’s when our shared vision ends, when Is and I are suddenly back at the river, cold water rushing around our feet.
“Is, are you okay?” I ask, my hand still on his shoulder. He doesn’t look good. He’s pale and sweaty, his eyes unfocused and practically feral-looking.
“If I can’t stop it… If I go berserk, Ku, man, you gotta—”
I nod solemnly. “I won’t let you become the monster you fear,” I tell him, not sure how I’ll make good on that promise, but I’m smart. I’ll figure something out.
16
Lili
“You feelin’ all right, querida?” Ocho asks, his eyebrows twisted in concern as I slip out of the latest vision, my head spinning.
That one wasn’t mine.
I’ve never been pulled into the dream world by someone else, and those guys — I’ve seen them both before, but never together — are a fairly recent development too. I don’t know why I’m suddenly seeing men in my mental fortress, I don’t know how they got in, but it’s making me feel less and less secure in my own head.