The Witch Thief (Harlequin Nocturne) (3 page)

The dragons believed the chalice kept them safe, that the chalice was what made and kept them the most undefeatable beings in the nine worlds. Joarr thought the idea ludicrous. Even more ludicrous in his mind was that he was stuck with the job of guarding it by lineage. Tradition said only the Keeper and his heirs could control its magic, could even handle the damn thing.

“Yesterday, I got this.” Rike stood and pulled an envelope from his back pocket. There was nothing ominous about the item, just a plain white envelope that could be found at any office-supply store in the human world.

Rike pulled a letter from the envelope and dropped it onto the table in front of him.

Again nothing special—white paper, black ink, printed by some type of computer printer.

I know where the chalice is. If you want it back, send one dragon to the portal. He will get more directions there.

Joarr’s lips twisted to the side. It smelled like a trap. “You believe this?” he asked.

Rike cocked a brow. “Tell me I shouldn’t. Tell me you have the chalice.”

When Joarr didn’t reply, the lieutenant shook his head. “We should have realized before. We’ve never been weak like this, been preyed on. No one has that ability. How could they? Not with the power of the chalice protecting us. We should have realized when the first dragon came back sick that the chalice was missing, but we were too caught up trying to cure his illness, then with my son, find his killer. When all we needed to do was retrieve the chalice.” He paused. “Or you. All you need to do is retrieve the chalice.”

Of course.

Chapter 2

T
he cavern was dark and cool. Joarr hadn’t bothered to bring a working light. He could see in the dark almost as well as in the day. He tucked the folded note into his pants pocket and held up the lantern. Amma had made no sound, given no sign she was inside, not since Rike had left. He wondered what she had heard, if she was rejoicing in the pain she had caused him, could cause him still.

Before leaving, the dragon lieutenant had reminded Joarr of his taxes and added a threat. If Joarr didn’t find the chalice and bring it back, the Ormar would take everything. Joarr’s home would be burned, his treasure taken and the entrance to his cavern sealed. He would be exiled.

Exiled dragons became wyrms, brainless bipedal creatures unable to shift to any other form, unable to do anything besides feed the hunger that blazed inside them. Greed for food, power and treasure consumed them.

The witch and her tricks had brought Joarr to this.

He moved to the back of the first room, past his treasure, which still lay in the pile as it had when he’d discovered Amma’s pilfery. The rounded grooves where her breasts had brushed over the gold were still visible. He could probably still smell her there, too, if he would allow himself to get that close. But he wouldn’t. The sight and scent last time had sent him into a rage. He wouldn’t fall victim to that again. No, this time he would deal with Amma and her treachery the same way she had dealt with him—with cold calculation.

In the back was a narrow passageway, barely wide enough for him in his human form. It led to a bigger room, one he rarely visited, one saved for only the things he truly treasured…didn’t just feel the dragon-obsession to own. The room was empty aside from a six-foot-long table and the cloth-covered form that lay on top of it.

Amma’s lantern held over his head as if the object were actually emitting light, he jerked the cloth from the table. A gasp sounded from the lantern. It began to vibrate.

Joarr smiled. Amma had seen a ghost…herself.

Her body. The new rulers of Alfheim—a hellhound and the elf princess whose body Amma had shared for a while—had sent him Amma’s form. She had been separated from it not long after she had stolen his chalice. She’d gone to Alfheim, apparently in search of family, but been turned away. According to stories, she became crazed and with the help of her sisters, attacked the elves. The elves had been unable to destroy her, but they had managed to separate her spirit from her body. Her body had been kept in Alfheim while her spirit had been locked in a vessel and sent to the in-between land of Gunngar.

Gunngar…where he had been trapped, too. He and Amma both had been prisoners there for one hundred years. She locked in a gemstone, he locked in his dragon form. He’d dreamed of the day he would see her again and seek his revenge, but now that the day was here, revenge was the least of his concerns.

He needed his chalice, and while Rike had provided him with the note, he knew simply following its directions would be foolhardy. He needed more information—like what Amma had done with the cup all those years ago.

He ran the backs of his fingers over the witch’s still, cool cheek and shook his head at the irony of her appearance. “You are a beauty. Deceptively innocent-looking with your golden hair and blue eyes. What color do they call that? Cornflower, I believe. Just a hint of purple if I remember correctly. And big…angelic, except in bed. Then they crackled with life…your true nature showing through. Wicked little thing that you are.” His hand hovered over her face, his thumb brushing over her lips.

“According to Rike and what I’ve heard from others, the elves tried everything to destroy your body—every magical tool they could dig up, but did they try a dragon’s fire? I know of nothing that can survive the full force of that.” He pulled in a breath, then released it, a tiny puff of smoke escaping his lips as he did.

Lowering the lantern an inch, he peered through the glass. “Are you willing to talk now?”

* * *

Amma swirled around the inside of the lantern like she’d done a thousand times before, searching for a crack, a pinhole, anything that would give her an opportunity to escape. Her body! The dragon had it. How had he gotten it?

She stared at the form laid out on the table—the lantern gave her the ability to see when she chose to use it. Not a hair seemed out of place. There was no dust or grime, nothing to indicate her body had been treated with disregard, much less abuse.

Unable to form another cognizant thought, she pummeled her spirit against the glass.

Joarr jerked, then stared into the lantern. His blue gaze froze her in place. He dangled the lantern over her body’s closed eyes and murmured against the glass. “Help me find the chalice and I will return you to your body.”

Her spirit stilled, but her thoughts began to move as swiftly as a cat’s tail when its owner had spied a fat dove. If she helped Joarr recover his property, she would in essence be saving him from whatever veiled threat the older dragon had tossed out before leaving. She hadn’t understood the significance of what Rike had said, but it had been obvious Joarr had. He had paled considerably as his visitor stormed out the door.

And Amma had no desire to help Joarr. She was no fool. She knew he was angry at her for stealing his chalice and that was before the other dragon’s threats. Now? Now she could only imagine he wanted her to return to her body so he could roast it with her inside.

Still, the chance to be herself again, to truly feel and experience the world overwhelmed all else.

Her decision made, she gathered herself together and stared at Joarr. He pulled back. She didn’t know what he saw when he looked into the lantern, but she could tell by the startled look in his blue eyes that now he could see her or some representation of her, and he knew she was ready to deal.

“Release me into my body and I will help you,” she murmured, hoping the words flowed, that Joarr could understand her.

He smiled. “Tell me who you gave the chalice to and I will release you.”

Amma pulled back into herself, hiding again. Dragons were known for their craftiness. If she gave Joarr too much information there would be no reason for him to keep his word.

“A dwarf,” she said, testing him.

He sighed. “That isn’t even a fraction of an answer.” He picked up her lifeless hand and held it to his lips. At first Amma thought he intended to kiss it; then she saw the flicker of fire escape his lips.

“Stop,” she yelled, before realizing the word had even formed. Annoyed that she had slipped and shown her concern, she immediately pulled back into herself again. She had no idea if her body could survive a dragon’s fire. As he’d said, little could.

“What?” He angled his head. “I only thought a fraction of an answer deserved similar payment…a fraction of your body.” He laid her pinkie flat on his palm. “One finger perhaps? Frozen, it should snap off easily.”

Amma ground nonexistent teeth. She’d forgotten he had the dual powers of fire and ice. It made him an even grander adversary.

Joarr stroked the limp digit. “No? Do you have a counteroffer?”

Amma fixated on that pinkie, how it would feel to feel again. If she was in her body, the dragon wouldn’t toy with her like this. She would use her magic, blow him to bits before he had a chance to so much as breathe on her…

“Half,” she yelled.

“Half a body?” Joarr eyed her lifeless form with exaggerated disbelief. “That will be much messier.”

“No, you lout. I tell you half of what you need to know and you release me into my body. Once I’m safely back and confident everything is working, I’ll tell you the rest.” Except there was no rest; she’d sold the chalice to a dwarf. There was little she could tell the dragon past that.

Joarr lowered Amma’s finger and trailed his hand down the length of her body. “Yes, must make sure everything is working. That could prove entertaining.”

Amma ignored him, or tried to; she couldn’t keep from watching as his fingers traced the low neckline of her peasant blouse, paused at the indentation between her breasts.

Without warning, he pulled his hand back. “You tell me half, I release you. Then you come with me. Once I have the chalice, you will go free.”

“I tell you what I know—that’s it. I’m not responsible for whether you are or aren’t capable of getting the cup back.”

“You stole it. You make sure I get it back.”

Amma counted to ten. Conversing with the dragon made her want to scream. He had the upper hand and he was using it, abusing it. She didn’t know how long it would take him to find his chalice; it was insane to demand she stay with him until he did.

Revenge, she realized. This was part of his revenge.

She muttered a curse, thinking what she would do when he didn’t have the upper hand, when she was free… She shook herself. She was letting the dragon get to her. She wasn’t thinking clearly. She had nothing to lose by agreeing with him. Once she was back in her body, she’d leave. He’d only asked for her word that she wouldn’t. Dragons apparently were as arrogant as the tales made them out to be.

“Agreed,” she said.

Joarr held the lantern to his face; his blue eyes filled her world. Amma kept herself from reacting, from saying something that would weaken her bargain.

“Agreed,” he replied.

Amma’s spirit expanded inside the lantern. She didn’t know if Joarr could see her joy, and she didn’t care. Her bodyless state was about to come to an end.

As she was celebrating, the lantern jolted. Joarr had sat the thing down, and only feet away from Amma’s body. She could see herself laid out, her golden hair in waves around her face. Her favorite skirt, patched and with a worn fringed hem, still fit perfectly. It was neither too loose nor too snug. She hadn’t gained or lost an ounce, which made her wonder what had happened to her body. What state would she find it in once she returned to it? Perhaps this was all a trick; perhaps she would find herself trapped inside a body that wouldn’t come back to life…

Joarr brushed by, quickly, Amma catching nothing but the flash of his white sweater, but it was enough to snap her out of her moment of panic. Her body was fine. Everything inside it was fine.

Joarr came back into view, stepping toward her.

Soon she would be herself again, and she’d teach the dragon not to make the same mistake twice, not to trust so easily.