Dragon Wytch

Page 18

So Feddrah-Dahns hadn't really owned the horn. And he'd probably embellished the truth to keep the real story of the Black Unicorn silent. Just why he needed to do that, I wasn't sure, but he must have a reason. Both awed and humbled by the trust placed in us—in me—I let out a long sigh. Expectations on us kept growing and seemed heavier with each passing day.
I glanced up at Eriskel. "We'll do our best."
"I know you will," he said. With a surprisingly gentle gesture, he reached out to stroke my cheek. "The path isn't all dark, girl. But the shadows are strong, so be careful not to fall along the way."
And then, everything went black, and I found myself floating in a pool of sparking light.
"Camille? Camille! Snap out of it!" Once again, Delilah's voice penetrated the fog wrapped around my head. I blinked rapidly, forcing my way up through the layers of gauze that had decided to coat my thoughts. After a moment, I was able to open my eyes. Foggily I glanced around at the worried expressions.
"Where were you?" Morio asked. "Your body was here, but your spirit seemed to have taken the five o'clock express. Again." He was kneeling beside me, his hand on my wrist as I held the horn in my hand. "And where did this cloak come from?"
I glanced down. The cloak was wrapped around my shoulders, fully material. It hadn't been a dream or a vision. "That… is a long story," I said. "I've communed with the guardian of the horn. I've earned the right to use it."
As I stood, Feddrah-Dahns ambled over to me, his hooves lightly tapping on the hardwood floors. He leaned down and nuzzled the brooch. "It's true then. The bearer of the horn wears the cloak of the Black Unicorn."
I awkwardly stood up, the cloak shifted and moved on my shoulders with a life of its own. "You might have told me I'd be facing a fight for my life."
"What? What are you talking about?" Delilah reached out to touch the cloak and as her fingers grazed it, sparks flew lightly where she touched.
Morio lay a single finger on it and shuddered. "My gods, this cloak is wired."
I motioned for them to back off. "I need some water or juice or something. I'm parched." The faint taste of lightning still lingered in my throat, and I still felt like I'd come within a hairbreadth of turning into LFC—lightning fried Camille.
"I'll get you something," Delilah said, dashing into the kitchen.
"You wouldn't have some mead, would you?" Mistletoe yelled as he fluttered up, following her on a blur of wings.
I slowly turned back to Feddrah-Dahns. "You knew, didn't you? That I'd have to face the jindasel?"
He blinked, his long lashes fluttering. "I knew, yes. And I knew you would prevail. Queen Asteria's word satisfies me. She has never dealt false with our kind, and I have utmost trust in her seers."
Her seers? "Then she set you to do this, did she?"
"Let us just say, we came to a mutual agreement on the subject. But it was the Black Beast who made the final decision."
I pursed my lips. "But why me? Why not one of her strongest mages? Why not her, herself?"
Feddrah-Dahns whinnied. "Because your greatest ally is your unpredictability. You and your sisters are half-Fae, half-human. Elves follow established routes, only changing patterns when the need is severe. But you and both lines of your blood—you are wild, feral, unpredictable. A good quality to throw the enemy off guard. And you have roots in both worlds, a strong impetus to protect both worlds. Your failings are also your strongest qualities. Don't even bother trying to plan everything in advance; there are too many variables. Play by the currents of the universe, Camille. Listen to the tides of change."
"In other words, go with the flow," I said softly.
"Yes, go with the flow, and pray it doesn't send you crashing on the rocks," he said.
A knock interrupted us and, still mulling over the advice, I answered the front door. Smoky stood there, leaning against the archway, staring down at me. There was something different about him that I couldn't pinpoint. He was far more intense and focused than I'd ever seen. And I could smell him: desire and lust and greed and passion all swirled into one, all rolling right toward me like one big boulder.
"You're late," he said. "Come now. And be prepared to spend the night." With that, he turned toward the living room and, over his shoulder, added, "You have fifteen minutes, and then I take you with me, willing or not."
Chapter Thirteen
"You can't just barge in here and order me around like that. I was headed out to your place in a little while, so cool your jets, dragon-boy!" Without thinking, I reached out and grabbed Smoky's arm, yanking him around to face me as we headed into the living room. I'd been rubbed a little too raw in the past twenty-four hours and was feeling a tad touchy.
He stared at my fingers on his arm for the barest of moments, then ran his gaze up to catch mine. He did not look amused, and I had the feeling that I was two seconds away from a massively nasty retaliation for being so presumptuous.
Slowly let go of the dragon and back away … Take a deep breath, hands off, sheepish expression on face… Maybe he won't eat you for lunch.
Or maybe he will, and you'll like it, a suggestive voice tickled in the back of my thoughts.
And then indignation flared, and I found myself wallowing in a mixture of irritation and self-pity. "Listen, in the past twenty-four hours, I've fought off a bugbear, a goblin, and a Sawberry Fae. I've helped kill two dubba-trolls, corralled a bunch of errant pixies, and found a missing one." I ticked each item off on my fingers, swallowing my fear as he waited for me to continue.
"What else? Oh yes, then there's the matter of the lightning bolt I managed to dodge. It could have fried the city, it was so amped up, but no—it was aimed straight at me. If I'd failed the test, not only would I have missed out on being the new owner of this snazzy Black Unicorn horn, but I'd be fried to a cinder in astral-land, and my body would have had a heart attack."
"Anything else?" he said, sliding into a smirk.
Annoyed now, rather than afraid—Smoky's moods were as unpredictable as my own, it seemed—I rested my hands on my hips. "Yeah, now that you mention it. If you want to huff and puff and blow the house in, then you can damn well go ahead and do it. But I'm not going to move one minute faster than I already am. I'm hungry. I'm stressed. And right now I wish I could turn into a tabby cat like Delilah and go curl up for a nice nap!"
Morio and Feddrah-Dahns stared at me like I'd just grown a second head. Perhaps I'd been a little too vocal? Venting was one thing. But lashing out wasn't my usual pattern. And Smoky wasn't responsible for anything that had happened.
He gave me a speculative look. "I know a sure cure for stress. We'll give it a try later." And then he swept past me over to the Morris chair, where he leaned on the arm and addressed Feddrah-Dahns. "Hello, again. So, you found your pixie?"
Feddrah-Dahns whinnied and shook his flowing mane. "Yes, thanks to Lady Camille and her sister."
"What? What did I do?" Delilah asked as she returned from the kitchen with a tray filled with soda cans and sandwiches. Mistletoe followed behind, eyeing the tiny goblet of cola she'd poured for him with suspicion. It was actually a thimble, which meant it was as big as a saucepan to him.
"I don't know about this," he said, squinting. "I've never tasted Earthside food. Are you sure you aren't trying to jinx me with this? It's bubbling."
"It's carbonated, not enchanted," I said, breaking in. "Honestly, Kitten, why didn't you just offer him a glass of mead or wine?"
"Because I didn't think of it," Delilah said, glancing at Smoky. "Hey. Didn't hear you come in. You want something to eat, too?"
He rubbed his temples and shook his head. "No, thank you. Every time I show up here, at least two of you are bickering. What on earth do you do when company goes home? Get into a knock-down, drag-out chick fight?"
Delilah and I simultaneously turned to him and said, "Hey, watch it!" And then she promptly broke into peals of laughter, while I eyed the sandwiches on the tray, my stomach rumbling.
"Stereo, even," he moaned. "Camille, please, get your things. I need you to come talk to that woman on my land. She's driving me batty, and if you don't come find out what she wants, I swear, I'm going to charbroil her and then sit on what's left until she's squashed like a bug. She knows what I am, and she's constantly harping at me, asking if I know where Titania is—"
Feddrah-Dahns shuddered. "Don't let her fool you. She may be a nuisance, but she can be a dangerous enemy, if you're talking about Morgaine. We don't trust her in the valley. That's why we ran her out."
"Trillian told me King Vodox exiled her from Svartalfheim, too," I said, glancing at Morio, who had a bemused look on his face. He just leaned back, put his hands behind his head, and waited. I eased my way back over to Smoky's side and placed a light hand on his shoulder.
"Let me eat lunch. Then I have to make a phone call. After that, I'll come with you. Meanwhile, Delilah, why don't you and Morio check out that rug shop this afternoon? See what you can find out."
"Sounds good to me," Delilah said, her mouth full. She handed me a sandwich, and as I reached for it, Smoky snaked his arm around my waist and pulled me into his lap.
"You got a thing for me sitting on your lap, huh?" I asked.
He grinned. "It's conducive to my thoughts. Eat fast" he said. "Delilah, be a good girl and get your sister some nightclothes. Since you're obviously wrapped up in something important, I've decided to choose my days and nights with you as I see fit. Consider tonight the first. I'll let you know when it all adds up to a week."
I stared at him. Oh yes, this was all just so peachy keen I thought I might toss my cookies. Couldn't even just one thing work out without something throwing a monkey wrench in the works?
"You'll let me know when I've spent a week's worth of time with you? Oh no, that will never do. Trillian won't stand for it—" I stopped as Delilah stuffed a ham sandwich in my hand. I automatically brought it to my mouth and began to chew.
"Trillian has nothing to say about the matter," Smoky said, his pale eyes turning glacial. "I neither like nor dislike your boyfriend, but know this: he will not interfere. Our contract is between us, not between him and me. Trillian better get that fact through his head before he wears out my patience." Taking a deep breath, he added, "Contrary to what you've speculated in the past, I am fully capable of killing and eating anyone who gets in my way."
A shaft of ice stabbed through my heart. Beneath that suave, persuasive exterior, there lurked the heart of a dragon, not the heart of a man. And dragons played by their own rules, at their own pace. I kept forgetting it, and it was a mistake that could turn out to be fatal. If not for me, then for Trillian.
"Hicc!" The sudden belch roared through the sudden silence, breaking the tension. I whirled to see Mistletoe land on one of the console tables. His belch had acted like a sudden puncture to a balloon, sending him flying across the room.
"Mistletoe!" Feddrah-Dahns shifted nervously, trying to navigate through the furniture over to the pixie's side.
Delilah beat him to it, kneeling down beside the table. "Are you okay? Mistletoe? Are you hurt?"
The pixie staggered to his feet. "Blimey, that was one hell of a ride," he muttered. "What kind of poison is in that drink you gave me?"
I pulled myself free of Smoky's embrace and hurried over to help. "I guess pixies and soda pop don't mix. How's your stomach? Are you bloated? You have a lot of gas?"
Delilah gave me a disgusted look. "Why'd you ask him that?"
"If he's got gas, this could happen again. He's like a bottle rocket." I snorted. "Congratulations. Only you could find a way to launch a pixie into orbit, Delilah. We'd better put him someplace safe where he won't break his neck." I glanced around. "Trouble is, we don't have a padded cell, pixie-size. Carbonation is a powerful tool. I'm amazed that FBHs don't find some way to turn it into a weapon."
Truth was, I didn't even like soda. As much as I liked sweets, I found the taste too cloying. I could handle all manner of sugars in my coffee, but for cool drinks, I preferred wine or water.
Mistletoe glared at Delilah. "Leave it to the cat to give me something to make my tum sick." He rubbed his belly. "I feel a bit under the weather. My insides feel distended." And sure enough, I could hear the gurgling.
I glanced around. "I know! Delilah, cover the sides of Maggie's playpen with pillows, and put Mistletoe in there until the bubbles wear themselves out."
With the pixie complaining every step of the way, Delilah took him into the kitchen. Meanwhile, I turned back to Smoky. "I'll make that call, and we'll be off," I said weakly. He wasn't going to be in a good mood much longer, and I wanted out of here before his patience vanished in a puff of smoke.
"Right," he said, looking put out.
I hurried into the kitchen, where Delilah was making up a padded cell for the pixie. "Cripes, this is just the most convoluted couple of days we've had in a long time." I pulled out my notepad and punched in the number I'd looked up for the Mountain Aspen Retreat.
"Who are you calling?" Delilah asked.
"That mental institution—the one Morio talked about. There's a man there who knows about the third spirit seal. Trouble is, he's an inmate and won't—hold on," I said as a voice came on the other end of the line.