The Last Slayer Page 12

  I dragged her toward the entrance. The guards still stared, this time more openly. Utterly useless.

  “Andersen!” I didn’t know if he could hear me from outside, but I didn’t care.

  In a few moments he was standing next to us. He took the situation in at a glance. “What happened?”

  “Dragon poison.” I pulled her closer. “Help me.”

  A pair of brackets appeared at the corners of his mouth. “Another dragon came?”

  “I don’t know. I need to go. Help me put her into her car.”

  Andersen picked Valerie up easily and started toward the parking lot. It made me feel slightly better that she wasn’t being dragged like a sack of potatoes.

  People stared as we made our way out to Valerie’s blood-red Ferrari. Andersen huffed slightly. “What are you going to do?”

  “What else? Get an antidote.”

  I searched Valerie’s purse and found her keys. “By the way,” I said, as Andersen laid Valerie on the passenger seat, “you should advise Swain not to extend any more invitations to dragonlords.” I remembered the military drills of the dragons at Besade. “They’re up to something.”

  For once he didn’t argue.

  Seven

  I headed toward the office, putting the Ferrari’s speed to good use. We had demon toxicologists on our payroll. A tenor screeched on the CD player, making my head hurt. I cut it off—Valerie had terrible taste in music—and drummed my fingers on the steering wheel. One part of me suspected Nathanael and his buddies. The other part suspected a setup. Ramiel could’ve hurt Valerie to get me to act against the Triumvirate of Madainsair. I wouldn’t have put it past him. Demigods can make Machiavelli look naïve.

  Fifteen minutes later, I pulled into the firm’s parking lot. Valerie lay as still as a mannequin. I put a hand over her chest to make sure she was breathing. Her lungs expanded, just a little, keeping oxygen in her system. Her complexion seemed paler than before.

  I couldn’t believe I’d let her get hurt. We don’t share a blood bond, but I couldn’t have asked for a better sister. She’d been nicer than anyone else when Jack took me in. Poor and homely, I’d been out of my league with the wealthy and glamorous Johnsons, and I hadn’t fit in at the fancy private school Jack had sent me to. Valerie could’ve shunned or tried to humiliate me—like most of the other rich kids at the school—but no. She’d taken me under her wing, showed me the ropes, made sure I’d fit in as well as I could. Then she’d taught me how to survive high school, dating and everything else that didn’t require the use of a weapon. So when I’d gotten my hunter’s license and we’d started working for the firm, I’d made sure I was the muscle that kept her safe from the demons that sometimes took exception to her wardings. She’d never asked me for special protection; it was something I’d chosen to do to even though I was technically risking my life every time. But she was my sister. Even if the firm disappeared tomorrow, I’d still protect her with my sword.

  If anything happened to her now, I would never forgive myself…or the dragonlords responsible. I would hunt them down if it was my last act. Even if it cost me my soul.

  I turned off the ignition, climbed out of the car and opened the passenger door. Valerie was slim, but unconscious she seemed to weigh a ton. Or maybe I was just too tired to carry her. The sun bore down from directly overhead; I couldn’t believe the day was still so young.

  I was struggling to get Valerie into a fireman’s carry when a familiar voice said, “Would you like some assistance?”

  It sent a shiver up my spine. I gave Ramiel a sharp look over my shoulder. He still wore the same armor and cloak—sparkling clean, of course. “Were you following me?”

  “Only to ensure your safety.” He looked at Valerie. “Your friend doesn’t seem well.”

  “Thanks for the tip.” I turned around and faced him fully. I wanted to look him in the eye when he answered the next question. “Did you poison her?”

  His expression turned frigid. “I would never do that.”

  “Then swear it.”

  “I so swear.”

  So someone other than Ramiel wanted to kill me and Valerie both. Great.

  “Allow me.” He reached out with one arm and picked Valerie up as if she weighed no more than a bouquet of roses. He sniffed her and wrinkled his nose. “This is Semangelaf’s poison.”

  The one who’d coated everything around him with silver-white frost. “Why her? You said they want me.”

  “His poison is highly transferable and quite fatal. If you are in physical contact with her much longer, you’ll be contaminated as well.”

  I took a step back. “How long do we have before the poison…kills her?”

  “About sixty hours, if I mark it right. I imagine Semangelaf wants to give you maximal time with her to ensure your contamination. So she’ll remain in a coma until the poison takes its final effect.”

  Ramiel’s words scared me, but also gave me hope. If he could identify it, he might be able to tell me how to detox her system. “Do you have an antidote?”

  “No.”

  Hope dashed. I wanted to yank all my hair out. A woman can ride an emotional rollercoaster for only so long. “Then what do you suggest we do for her?”

  He nodded, considering. “Two dragonlords possess the antidote—Semangelaf himself and Enmesaria.”

  “Enmesaria? The dragonlady of—Wait a minute. She’s not a member of the Triumvirate of Madainsair. What does she have to do with this?”

  “Many dragonlords have powers beyond commanding dragons. Hers is the concoction of potions.”

  I crossed my arms. “Why do I have a feeling that there’s a catch?”

  A small smile twisted his lips. A mixture of admiration and distaste flitted through his eyes. “So cynical for one so young.”

  “Keeps me alive.”

  Ramiel inclined his head slightly. “I suggest we return to Besade to discuss this further.” He looked around the gray parking lot. “Unless you prefer to do it here.”

  “Why not the office?”

  “A dragon or two may come by. Remember, the Triumvirate has marked you for death.”

  I hadn’t thought of that, but he was right. Jack would kill me if a wyrm destroyed our office building, and there were our staffers to consider.

  Right on cue, Valerie’s phone rang from inside the Ferrari. It was the doom-laden tones of Verdi’s Dies Irae, sounding like a squadron of Valkyries on the attack.

  I closed my eyes briefly. There was only one person who had that ring tone, and it was the one person I couldn’t ignore.

  I grabbed the phone and pressed the button. “Jack.” I raised a finger to my lips to signal Ramiel to shut up. “Valerie’s not available right now.”

  “No need to get her. I wanted to wish you happy birthday.”

  This was new. Jack had contacted me on every birthday since I’d joined the firm, but it had always been to discuss a potential assignment, one that usually ended up with my getting a nice prize at the end, like the zaibatsu job that had earned me my daisho set.

  So. What did he really want? To feel me out? He and Valerie had set me up with the “Selena” test.

  “Thanks,” I said, keeping my voice neutral. This wasn’t the time to discuss the matter.

  Ramiel looked down at the prone Valerie.

  Antidote first. “Actually, I don’t really have time to talk right n—”

  “How’s the job going?”

  “Well, it’s—”

  “Watch your step, my dear.” Jack’s voice suddenly took on an otherworldly smoothness. “Tiny ripples, huge effects.”

  I had no idea what he was talking about. Not that I ever did, and not that he ever explained his visions. Not when he’d made vague comments on my sixteenth birthday about my coming of age being at least a decade away. Not when he’d muttered something about my being the death of Miguel. I’d asked about the latter, but Jack had claimed he didn’t remember saying it—Seeing could leave blank
patches in a diviner’s memory. Exactly four weeks later, I’d screwed up, and Miguel had ended up dead.

  I stared at Valerie. “Are they bad? Maybe…fatal?” I asked, though Jack would ignore me as usual.

  “Depends.”

  Startled, I almost dropped the phone. It was the first time he’d ever answered a question about his visions. Despite the heat of the day a cold sweat broke out on the back of my neck. Everything that I could count on was no longer. I was supposed to be some dragonlady, Valerie was hurt while I was on the hunter duty, and Jack wasn’t ignoring me about what he’d Seen. I felt like I was stuck in a surrealist’s dream.

  There was a moment of silence. “No major problems?” Jack asked, his voice back to its normal brisk clip.

  I licked my suddenly dry lips. “It’s a little complicated.”

  “I have faith you’ll take care of it.”

  “Thank you.” Mindful of the audience, I resisted the urge to shuffle my feet. I wasn’t sure if Ramiel could eavesdrop, but he didn’t need to know how uncomfortable talking with Jack made me, especially when he was in Cryptic Mode. Dealing with a high-level diviner could give anybody a headache. “Have you Seen anything else?”

  “No. Should I have?”

  Yes. “No.” I forced a breezy tone into my voice. “Of course not. Hey, gotta go. Talk to you later.” I hung up, not knowing what to make of the conversation. Then I turned to Ramiel. “Are we going to ride the amphitere again?”

  “Would you like to?”

  “No.” Carrying Valerie and trying to ride the thing would be impossible. At least for me.

  A corner of his lips curved upward. “Then we’ll use another way.” He extended his free hand.

  I stared at him warily as I took it.

  The force of the teleportation squeezed my eyes shut and pulled at my hair until I thought every strand would rip from my scalp. My lungs tried to get oxygen, but they couldn’t expand against the powerful winds battering me. My head began spinning. Just when I thought my ribs would snap, I collapsed onto the soft carpeted floor of Besade’s main hall. I gasped and stayed on my hands and knees.

  Toshi immediately appeared, wings beating behind him so fast that they seemed to vibrate. “Lady Ashera! You didn’t tell me you’d revisit us today. Lord Ramiel said you’d gone home.” He began wringing his tiny foreclaws. “I haven’t even prepared a suitable banquet in your honor.”

  I didn’t have the energy to tell him to shut up. Toshi was like a high-strung Chihuahua. It probably couldn’t be helped. He was too small a thing to live among the big dragons without getting at least a little paranoid about being stepped on.

  “Does he want me to punish him again?” I asked, tilting my head to stare up at Ramiel.

  He brushed his windblown hair from his face and nodded. “Look.”

  Toshi was already on the floor, his snout glued to the carpet and his butt in the air, trembling. The sight was so pitiful I couldn’t help but laugh, which seemed to make him shake even more.

  “Get up, Toshi.” I sat up. My head seemed to have stopped spinning. “Bring me some melon wine, would you?”

  I didn’t have to say that twice. He was already gone. I managed to get to my feet. “Is there a place where Valerie can stay without contaminating anyone?”

  “Of course,” Ramiel said.

  Toshi reappeared with my wine. Now that was quick. I took the goblet and drank it in a long series of gulps. It tasted as nice as before although there was a sour aftertaste. Maybe it was a bit old. But I didn’t comment on it. I didn’t want another “punish me” speech. Ramiel held Valerie out at arm’s length to Toshi.

  “Take her to the guest chamber. Handle her with caution. She’s been poisoned.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Toshi closed his hindclaws over Valerie’s shiny belt buckle and flew off with her. It looked strange, almost comical, to see a creature the size of my palm carrying a full-grown woman. But Toshi didn’t even blink. She could’ve been a flower petal.

  Even though Valerie would be better off under Toshi’s care and it would be safer for both of us for me to stay away, I wanted to go with her to make sure she would be all right. It seemed wrong to leave her among dragons, no matter how friendly they appeared.

  Then there was Jack. He wasn’t the warmest person in the world, and he’d never treated Valerie and me equally. She got the regular father—the one who praised or scolded as the occasion called for. I got the odd father—the one who swung between indulgence, emotional distance and the occasional reluctant lecture. But I owed it to him, the man who had gotten me out of the endless series of foster homes and paid for my education. There was no way I could face him and tell him I hadn’t done everything in my power to save his only child. No matter how much I hated working with others. No matter how much it galled me that I had to ally myself with a supernatural.

  Had Jack known this could happen when he’d taken the job? There were rumors that he never accepted any assignment without first trying to ascertain the outcome. But divination isn’t an exact art, and people who try to live their lives according to their visions generally suffer.

  “Let us go to my antechamber,” Ramiel said, dragging my attention back to him.

  The halls hadn’t changed at all, except for a few bas-reliefs missing another limb or two. Some of them even lay dead. Thank god they couldn’t actually bleed—the entire dragonhold would have reeked.

  This time no bas-relief was hiding inside the room. Ramiel shut the door, and I sat down and placed the empty goblet on the desk.

  I got straight to the point. “How do I find Enmesaria?”

  Ramiel sat across from me on a plush loveseat. “You want to visit her?”

  “Well, yeah. You said she can help.”

  “She can. But there is no guarantee that she will.”

  I narrowed my eyes. If he thought she wouldn’t help me, why had he brought her up as an option? “Why not?”

  “You’re not yet a dragonlady.”

  So it came back to that. “That’s crazy. You have to be born a dragonlady to be one, and I was born mortal. I don’t have enough magic to be a dragonlady.”

  “You performed draco perditio without a single heartstone to amplify your magic. Further, you survived. I believe that’s proof enough.”

  “Then shouldn’t it be enough to persuade Enmesaria?”

  “Her dragonhold would refuse you. Pray remember, our dragonholds are living things with feelings that reflect those of their masters. Enmesaria abhors…what is the term? Dragon groupies.”

  So I had to beg help from someone who hated groupies, which in dragonlord-speak meant mortals. Even though, if Ramiel was right, I might not be mortal. But of course that wouldn’t be enough. I had to get the certification, so to speak, before other immortals—or at least their premises—would accept that I was also immortal…even if I really was.

  I resisted the urge to bang my head against the tabletop.

  “You’re going to be very powerful, Ashera.” He spoke without any inflection. I couldn’t tell if he was mocking me or what. “Just like your mother. But you must claim your dragonhold.”

  I frowned. I didn’t have a mother as far as I was concerned, yet he was constantly bringing her up. It made my heart skip. Don’t all orphans dream of reuniting with their long-lost parents? And of course, the parents always turn out to be Euro royalty or something ridiculous like that. And all the people who were mean to you end up groveling at your feet, begging for forgiveness. You’re inclined to forgive and forget, naturally, but your wise parents throw them in a dungeon and let them rot. Literally.

  Truth be told, I was one of those silly orphans. The foreign soaps I loved so much also played to that little fantasy of mine. So to hear him say that my mother was powerful…someone special…

  Was I going to lose it and cry in front of him?

  Oh God, please no. I’d never be able to bear the humiliation.

  “Your mother is the las
t of her kind,” Ramiel said.

  The last of her kind? There weren’t that many supernatural races that had gone close to extinction. Even the breeds that rarely procreated managed to have enough children to continue their lines.

  “She is the last slayer.”

  Eight

  Ramiel must’ve considered me a complete idiot, a bumbling mortal. I thought I’d done a decent job of convincing him otherwise, but maybe not.

  I stood up, furious at myself for wasting time with him. “If you’re going to lie, you should get your story straight. Thanks for your help. I’d like to leave with Valerie.”

  His face remained empty. “I’m not lying to you.”

  “The slayers were a matriarchic people. Anyone born of a slayer mother is a slayer. And if I’m a slayer, why would you, Mr. Dragonlord, help me, the enemy? And how can the daughter of a slayer be a dragonlady?”

  It was my twenty-seventh birthday. I had been attacked twice by wyrms, my sister was in a poison-induced coma, at least three demigods wanted me dead, and now my mother was a slayer and I was supposed to—somehow, at the same time—be a dragonlady? It was just too much, and I directed all my fear and frustration at him. “I may be mortal, but I’m not stupid. I know the basic history and politics of the two races. What’s next? Is my father Darth Vader?”

  “Your lack of insight is disappointing.”

  For the first time, I felt true hate for him. “Insulting me really isn’t the way to go here,” I said, my voice tight.

  “Do you not see the problem yourself? Why do you think the Advisors and the Triumvirate of Madainsair are worried about you?” His gaze was unwavering.

  I held his stare for what seemed like minutes. There was something else. “What are you holding back?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Don’t bullshit me, you demon son of a bitch. You’re not telling me everything.”

  “You barely trust me with anything. Why should I trust you with everything?”

  “You’re asking me to put my life in your hands.”