Once the jet had taken off safely, Dragos had turned his attention to making his own journey.
As fast as he might be able to fly, he couldn’t beat the jet to California. If he chose to stay in dragon form for the trip, he wouldn’t arrive until the evening of the next day.
There wasn’t a thing wrong with that decision, and he almost chose to do it. The long, solitary flight did sound appealing. Having to relate to so many different creatures on a daily basis was wearing, and if he didn’t get regular time to fly alone, he grew short-tempered and snappish. Well, more snappish than usual.
On a whim, more than anything else, he decided on a different mode of travel and called the Djinn Soren to give him a quick trip. Traveling Djinn style meant that he could get to California hours before Pia. He could still enjoy a long flight and plenty of solitude, and also be ready and waiting when her plane landed.
Sometimes it was very handy to have a Djinn owe you a favor. A few weeks previously, Soren had asked Dragos if he had any information about an upcoming commercial venture between the Nightkind and the witches’ demesne. It just so happened that Dragos had developed an extensive file on the subject, and he had given a copy of the file to Soren in return for a favor. All he had to do was request the trip.
Dragos’s face and form were too distinctive, so instead of booking a stay at a luxury hotel in the city, he chose a modest, remote motel bordering the nearby Angeles National Forest. After Soren had dropped Dragos and his luggage off, he checked in quickly, threw his travel bag on the bed and left again to shapeshift and take to the night sky.
Dragos didn’t care for L.A.—although he had laid claim to New York long ago for tactical, political and business reasons, he wasn’t fond of any city and only tolerated them at best—but he did appreciate southern California’s balmy climate. The salty breeze off the ocean was the perfect combination of warm and refreshing.
By the light of a half moon, the dragon stretched out his wings and coasted on the thermals. He wore his cloaking spell to prevent detection, and after a few hours, he felt relaxed and tension free. He flew offshore some distance and dove into the water, fishing until he had eaten his fill. Then he gained altitude again and winged north to watch the ocean waves break against the cliffs of Big Sur, relishing the solitude and the clear, brilliant starlit night.
He had circled back around in a leisurely fashion, arriving at the airstrip in plenty of time to watch the arrival of the Light Fae motorcade.
Tatiana had a few formidable magic users in her court. One of them was the captain of her guard, Shane Mac Cartheigh, so Dragos made sure to be circling very high in the air over the site and cloaking his presence tightly, as the troops poured out of the vehicles.
The dragon’s sharp gaze could pick up small prey from two miles away. He had no trouble picking out the individual soldiers. He saw Tatiana’s daughter Bailey direct the troops with a wide sweep of her arm. They jogged to every end of the airstrip and studied the surrounding countryside, weapons ready.
He approved of their security measures, but why was Bailey directing Light Fae troops instead of Shane? Last he heard, she didn’t live in California but resided somewhere rather remote. Puerto Rico, or maybe Jamaica. She and Sebastian Hale ran a security company. Hale was Wyr and an excellent fighter, and Dragos made sure to track excellent Wyr fighters who weren’t his own.
No wait, Hale had mated and retired. Bailey ran the security company alone now. So why was she here?
After thoroughly searching the perimeter, the troops down below converged again around Bailey. A few moments later, the Cuelebre jet came into view. Watching approvingly as the jet touched down in a textbook perfect landing, Dragos chatted with Pia until the jet’s airstairs were deployed. Then Quentin and Aryal appeared, began to descend and froze halfway down the stairs.
They sensed something too. What did they sense?
He said in Aryal’s head, What is it?
The harpy didn’t evidence any surprise at his presence. She said tersely, Quentin and I think it seems like a lot of troops for a simple pickup.
It is. He told her about watching them spread out and search the area around the airstrip. A group of that size was able to establish a secure perimeter very quickly.
From the distance, he saw the harpy shrug. That’s probably it. Private airstrips don’t have the kind of security that airports do. They were being thorough and efficient before we arrived.
Probably, he agreed. We do tend to be paranoid.
Just because you’re paranoid, blah blah blah, etc., Aryal told him sourly.
I wondered where Shane was, and why Bailey is here, he said. She usually lives in Jamaica. Or Puerto Rico. Whichever one it is.
You’re so nitpicky, Aryal told him. Now I’m wondering that too. Maybe he’s on vacation. Does Tatiana’s captain take vacations?
The dragon snorted. I have no damn idea.
Aryal said to him, Pia says to go ahead. What say you?
We are being nitpicky, he told her. So go ahead, but keep a watchful eye out. Report back to me if you notice anything unusual.
You got it.
The foursome continued to the tarmac, merged with the Light Fae troops, and was swallowed up by the motorcade.
Dragos followed the motorcade until it reached the outskirts of Bel Air, the affluent neighborhood where the Light Fae Queen’s residence was located. When the car carrying Pia turned onto Tatiana’s street, his eyes narrowed at the barricade that waiting troops moved into place across the street. After putting the barrier into place, the troops stood at attention behind it, facing outward.
The Light Fae Queen’s residence was in the same neighborhood as those of celebrities, musicians and movie stars. Ronald Reagan had once lived in Bel Air, and so had Alfred Hitchcock. Tour buses traveling through the neighborhood were a normal way of life.
As far as he knew, blocking the neighborhood off was something new. It looked as though Tatiana was taking no chances with the Lord of the Wyr’s mate, an attitude that he approved most heartily.
He had watched and waited, and touched base with Pia, and indulged in paranoia. Now, there was nothing more for him to do but bide his time until he could talk to her again.
He had packed his laptop. He could go back to the motel to work. Or he could just take time off. It was rare for him to have free time on his hands. He could go fishing again, and fly over the coast and spend the week avoiding other people, and while he liked the sound of that quite a bit, his nitpicking, paranoid discussion with Aryal left him restless and uneasy.
He contacted Aryal again. Have you arrived yet?
Yes, we’re here, the harpy told him. Nobody’s gone insane and stabbed all of us yet. Pia’s in the guest suite unpacking, and we’ve got the suite next to hers. Tatiana is in a meeting, but she’s supposed to have breakfast with Pia soon.
What happened to the Light Fae troops in the motorcade?
They went wherever Light Fae troops go when they fly back to the home hive. They sort of dissipated and soaked into the woodwork, no doubt on the Queen Bee’s orders. Aryal sounded cheerful. But maybe they’ll still swarm back and stab us all to death, before any of us can yell to you for help. You never know.
He snorted. Your sense of humor can be damn odd at times.
All I’m really saying is, maybe this time, our paranoia really was just paranoia. Of all his sentinels, Aryal was the most prone to impatience, but she didn’t sound impatient now. She sounded kind. For now, everything seems fine.
He told her, Good enough. Report back later.
Will do.
He had drifted south and east while they talked, over the Bel Air Country Club. Abruptly, he made up his mind, chose a direction and flew for it. While the distance would take a half an hour or so to drive by car, or even twice that, depending on traffic, he covered his trajectory within a few minutes.
When he came to Rodeo Drive, he waited for a lull in the traffic. He didn’t have to wait long—traffic was unusually sparse for such a popular area. Then he dropped down and shapeshifted as he landed. Still cloaking tightly, he strolled down one of the most luxurious shopping districts in the world until he reached Van Cleef & Arpels. After admiring the jewels in the showcase, he strolled down the street to the next jewelry store.
He stopped at a few other jewelry stores, admired Cartier’s display, then he came to a uniquely Elder Races jewelry store named Songs of Fire.
He had only intended to window-shop, until he laid eyes on the firebird.
It was a necklace, very high-end jewelry, the kind of showpiece that would sell very rarely and only to a relatively select clientele. After just a brief glance, he knew the cost must be in the high six figures, if not seven.
The body of the bird rested at the hollow of the mannequin’s throat. Made of fiery diamonds and rubies, it was easily as long as his thumb. The bird’s eye was an emerald the size of his thumbnail. The wings swept up on either side of the mannequin’s neck, tapering off gracefully so that the tips came together at the nape.
He loved having Pia as his mate for many reasons. She was sexy, and funny, and smart and wise, and far kinder than he. She curbed his worst impulses, as much as he would let her, and having sex with her was so smoking hot, they burned up the air around them when they coupled.
And one of the things the dragon loved best was to buy his mate jewelry.
Because she was his.
So when he gave her jewels to wear, they were his as well. All his, forever.
He loved to fuck her when she was wearing diamonds and nothing else. She was jaw-droppingly gorgeous when she wore jewels, all lush and naked, delicately pink in all the most private places, and sparkling bright. Pia was the crown jewel in the dragon’s hoard.
He struggled with his impulses, briefly, while part of him knew it had been a foregone conclusion as soon as he had laid eyes on the firebird.
After a moment, glancing left and right, he waited until passersby on the street were either walking or looking away. Then he let his cloaking fall away, opened the door and walked inside.
It was barely after ten o’clock, so the store had just opened for the day, and he was the only customer.
Good. He liked it that way.
As a tall, model-slim woman hurried into the store from the back, he said, “I would like for you to lock your doors while I’m here. As I plan on making at least one significant purchase, it will be worth your while.”
The woman was Light Fae and beautiful, with long, thoroughbred bones, skillful makeup and designer clothes. She also looked tense and unhappy. “I’m sorry, it’s against company policy to lock the doors during store hours.”
Dragos paused. It was highly unusual for people to tell him no, and it was never an experience he appreciated. Cocking his head, he drew his brows together and asked, “Do you realize who I am?”
The woman looked at him, “Should I? Oh … oh, wait. Are you Lord Cuelebre?”
“Yes, I am, and I’m here in private shopping for my wife.” He narrowed his eyes on her. “I expect you to be discreet about my presence here.”
“Sure, of course,” she said, waving a hand in dismissal of the subject. “We’re always discreet.”
Again, he had to pause. He was a jewelry store’s wet dream. Managers bolted out of hiding to fawn over him. They had involved and passionate discussions about clarity and cut, quality grades and light.
This woman’s preoccupied attitude was not normal.
He persisted. “And you’ll lock the door while I’m here?”
“Oh yes, of course.” She stepped around the end of one counter to walk toward the door and lock it. As she did so, she sighed. “What is it you would like to see?”
His short amount of patience was evaporating rapidly.
“I wanted to examine the firebird necklace you have on display,” he told her, his tone short. “Along with the accessory pieces, but is this a bad time?”
“Excuse me?”
For the first time since he had entered the shop, she looked at him directly. He noted the shadows under her eyes. The whites of her eyes were bloodshot. His attention snagged by the small details, he took a step forward and caught a whiff of her scent.
She was not merely preoccupied and unhappy. She was quite distressed.
He sighed. The dragon didn’t care if the woman was having a bad day. All he wanted to do was ignore her, examine the necklace more closely and make a buy decision.
Actually, what he would have liked to do was just steal the damn thing and be done with it, but he had started out in a leisurely, aboveboard fashion, and now the store’s security system would have a record of his presence. And security recordings in jewelry stores were never stored on site, not with so many potential and extremely talented thieves scattered throughout the Elder Races.
In social situations like this, he had taken to asking himself WWPD? (What Would Pia Do?)
They had such different reactions to most things, and she was so much better at interacting and relating to people than he was, that he had learned asking himself WWPD helped avoid unpleasantness from time to time when he was in pursuit of something that he wanted.
The small exercise helped. Often, he wasn’t able to achieve what Pia would actually do, because it was just too foreign to his nature. But more often than not, he was able to approximate something between what she would do and what was his natural inclination to do.
As a result, a rumor had started in his corporation that marriage and mating might be softening him up. Curious and coldly amused, he tracked the rumor down to its source, and the whispers died a quick and decisive death.
He was a contented dragon, not a tame one.
In this instance, if Pia were here, she would ask after the woman’s well-being. He didn’t want to go that far, but perhaps he might talk to a manager and have a normal discussion about jewelry after all.
He said, “You’re clearly not focused on your work. No doubt you have some personal matter that needs your attention. Just get your manager for me, then you can take care of whatever it is you need to take care of.”
The woman burst into tears.
Oh fuck. He almost threw up his hands and walked out. Only the memory of the firebird’s sparkle anchored him in place.
“I’m s-sorry, there’s no one else here,” she said. “Two other people, including my m-manager, were supposed to show up for work, but they haven’t yet. And I’m so sorry and embarrassed to burst into tears at you like this, Lord Cuelebre.”
He closed his eyes briefly then told her, “Clearly this isn’t the best time for you to be dealing with customers. I’ll leave now and come back when your manager is available.” Pausing, he stared at her. She was busy wringing her hands, while tears streamed down her face. Gritting his teeth, he demanded, “Are you paying attention to anything that I’m saying to you right now?”
“I know, I’m sorry. I a-p-p-pologize, but I’ve had a sleepless night. I was looking for my mother everywhere, and nobody’s around, and nobody showed up for work either, even when I tried to call in and take a sick day, and …”
His short amount of patience snapped.
Staring into her brimming gaze, he said in a quiet, compelling voice, “Stop this meltdown immediately. You’re calming down now. You’re growing quite calm, do you understand? And lucid. You are definitely growing more lucid.”
“But you don’t understand,” she sobbed. “There’s nobody around.”
Hm. Sometimes, when the subject was overwrought like this, it took his beguilement a little while to take effect. Plus, there was always the possibility that she was delusional. It was very difficult to beguile a delusional person until he actually understood what they were delusional about.
“What do you mean, there’s nobody around?” he asked. Beguilement also didn’t work very well when he let his own impatience get in the way and upset people, so he tried to curb the sharpness of his tone. “Of course there are people around. There are cars and people in the street right now. You’re growing calm and lucid now, remember? In fact, you’re feeling so calm, you’re quite capable of using your keys to go get that necklace for me to examine.”
Abruptly, she did calm down. Her sobbing stopped as if a switch had been thrown, and her twisting hands loosened.
“There aren’t any people in my neighborhood,” she whispered. “My mom lives on the next block. She’s gone too. We always have breakfast together, but she wasn’t there when I let myself in. When I called the police and told them my mother was missing, they said they would drive by her house to check into it, and get back to me. I haven’t heard from them either.”
Okay. He had tried his hardest not to engage, but that snagged him. He repeated, “There are no people at all in your neighborhood.”
Mutely she shook her head.
Perhaps this was the delusion he needed to understand to make his beguilement effective. Crossing his arms, he frowned. “How do you know this?”
“Because I live there!” the woman cried. “I know!”
Abruptly, he decided he’d had more than enough of talking to her. He snapped, “What’s your address?”
Jumping at the sharp command in his voice, she blurted out an address.
He held out one hand. “Give me the keys.”
The woman hesitated, then started shaking her head. “I-I don’t think I c-can do tha—”
Oh for the love of all the gods. Injecting all his strength into his voice, he told her, “Shut up and give me the goddamn keys.”
Her hand jerked out, offering the set to him. Taking the ring, he rifled through them until he found the right key to unlock the display case. Scooping up the firebird necklace, a matching bracelet and dangling earrings, he gave them a brief, very thorough look.
The workmanship was top-notch. He was looking forward to examining the pieces in greater depth, but for now, he shoved the jewelry into the front pocket of his jeans. He told the woman, “Tell your boss to bill me.”
She stood frozen and mute, staring at him with huge eyes.
Because he had, in fact, told her to shut up. Well, that would wear off soon enough, but thank the gods, not while he was around.
Slapping her keys on the counter, he let himself out of Crazy Town and into the welcome fresh, sunlit air. Rotating first one shoulder, then the other, he angled his head and looked up and down the street.
Yes, there were people around, both shoppers walking down the sidewalks and people driving by in cars.
He was just about to dismiss the woman forever as a mental case, when one small detail caught his attention.
Everyone walking down the street was human. There weren’t any of the Elder Races in sight.
That happened quite often, actually. There were far more humans than people of the Elder Races. … But he was standing in front of a popular Elder Races shop, which strengthened the likelihood that he would see a member of the Elder Races—any of the Elder Races—quite a bit.
Frowning again, he turned his attention to the cars passing by. The next five vehicles were filled with humans too.
It was probably just a huge, boring coincidence. But Tatiana had guards barricading her street. And it had seemed like she had sent a large number of troops to meet Pia’s flight.
Fuck it. He would go check out Basket Case’s address and determine for himself whether or not there was anybody around.
When he consulted Google Maps briefly on his smartphone, he found Basket Case lived in a neighborhood north and to the west. Pulling his cloaking tightly around him, he shapeshifted and took to the air. By car, he guessed it would take Basket Case a good forty-five minutes to drive into work. Sometimes he pitied wingless creatures.
As he flew the distance, he turned over various thoughts in his mind like searching for the spark of jewels in a mound of earth.
People, any kind of people, tended to congregate in enclaves and cluster in clumps. Sure, there were crossovers, but overall, families liked to flock to family-oriented amusements and neighborhoods. Hipsters flocked to whatever hipsters liked to do. Dragos was acres and miles and continents away from being a hipster, so he had no real understanding of that new subset of society, but he thought it involved drinking lots of artisanal coffee and organic wines.
Those who were religious behaved in the same way. They went to church, or synagogues, or temples, and enjoyed social outings together. The Elder Races also followed the same behavioral trend. They tended to shop at Elder Races stores and live in neighborhoods filled with Elder Races creatures.
The Light Fae were no exception. As a people, they tended to be clannish anyway, and Basket Case had said her mother lived on the next block over from her. It stood to reason that Basket Case probably lived in a neighborhood filled with Light Fae.
Her mother was missing. Her co-workers and manager, who were in all probability Light Fae as well, had not come in to work.
Locating the street on which Basket Case lived, he coasted down the length of it until he reached her block. Then he landed, shapeshifted and walked down the middle of the tree-lined street until he came up to her address.
It looked like a modest, smart neighborhood, with a mix of single-family homes and other houses that appeared to be divided into apartments. Along with oaks and other varieties of trees, palm trees dotted either side of the streets. Fences were painted; lawns were well kept. While modest, this was not a neighborhood in decline.
No cars traveled down the street to disrupt the direction of Dragos’s stroll.
Nobody mowed their lawn.
He began to listen closely for any signs of movement in the houses he passed. There were none. A couple of houses stood with their front doors open. Silence beat down on his head, along with the strength of the southern California sun.
Basket Case had not been delusional, after all. There were no people in her neighborhood.
Some people might think that meant he owed her an apology. In fact, if he considered WWPD, she would definitely say that he did, but as far as he was concerned, it was a moot point, as he had no intention of ever speaking to or seeing Basket Case again. There was just so much of the rest of his life to live, which took a far greater urgency.
Wait, there was a sound. It came from some distance away, perhaps a couple of blocks over to the right. It sounded metallic, like a trash can had been knocked over.
He broke into an easy jog, reached the end of the block and turned right. The small sound of his own footsteps overrode what he had heard, so he had to stop once or twice to listen again before moving forward.
There—more sounds came from down this street. It was virtually a replica of the street he had just left. This was all part of the same neighborhood.
On his left, a house stood with its front door open. He passed several more houses with open doors.
Who leaves their door open when they leave their house? People evacuating, or in a panic, except how could Basket Case live in this neighborhood and not be aware of an evacuation or a panic? Had she gone out the evening before, so she wasn’t home to notice this general air of abandonment?
His mind shot to the unpleasant heart of the matter. Was he really going to have to talk to her again, after all?
There. He stopped.
The noises came from behind that stucco house. Now that he was closer, it sounded louder, like there were several creatures making it. A pack of dogs, perhaps, rooting through an alleyway. If people had left in a hurry, some of them might have abandoned their pets.
He walked around the side of the house. A six-foot-high privacy fence surrounded the backyard, so in the last several feet, he gathered up speed and leaped over it.
The backyard was charming and as well kept as the rest of the neighborhood. He jogged to the back fence, gathered himself and leaped again.
As he landed in the alley, he startled a group of people.
Quite a large group of people, all Light Fae, in various modes of dress. To a one, they were streaked with blood and open wounds.
Staring, he straightened from his landing crouch as the group whipped around to glare at him. Their eyes were all black. No whites.
Some had only half their faces, the remaining flesh looking as though it had been chewed by wild beasts.
People tend to flock, and these were no exception either. Moving as one, they hurtled at him. They were incredibly, impossibly fast. There wasn’t enough room in the alley for him to shapeshift and launch. Then he thought to turn and leap back over the fence.
As he crouched to spring, the foremost of the group gathered into a huge leap and landed on his back, knocking him off balance. It was followed by two more. Then the entire group was upon him. Pain flared as one of them bit him on his arm, tearing through the skin.
Like the snick of a trigger on a gun, Dragos’s mind clicked over to Plan B:
Fight savagely and throw lots and lots of fire.
He cut loose.