Trouble with Gargoyles: an Urban Fantasy (Moonlight Dragon Book 3) (17 page)

I didn't have to tell her anything if I didn't want to. She could be trying to trick me into revealing myself. But my instincts didn't believe it. To love someone for centuries and then lose them the way she had lost Kleure…her grief burned the air around us, and she was its supernova center. It was how I would be, if the Oddsmakers took Vale.

"I'm going to end every last one of them," I told her in a voice that came from the depths of my soul. "I'm going to bury them so deeply that even Time won't recall their existence. And while I'm doing it, I'm going to make them hurt."

She nodded, just once. "But to get close enough to do it, you have to kill someone tonight and earn their trust."

"Yes."

"They demanded the same of Iris. She was supposed to kill Xaran." The girl pursed her lips when I flinched. "That's who it is, isn't it? It's still him. They can't abide that he's alive. It's like he's mocking them."

"I have to do it," I declared. "One sacrifice to save the rest." But my voice wavered and sickness threatened to roil up from my stomach again.

"You won't do it." The girl touched the sleeve of my jacket. Her touch was a ghost's. "I'll help you save him. Just promise me that you'll do what you said you'd do to the Oddsmakers. You'll make them suffer like my Kleure suffered."

"I promise." It was the easiest promise I'd ever made.

"Then the plan is this: I'll fight you off while Xaran escapes. And then you'll kill me."

I stared at her. "That's a lousy plan."

"Is it? You said it yourself: one sacrifice to save the rest. It should be me. My Kleure is gone. I don't want to be here any longer." She firmed her jaw. "If my death will bring him vengeance, then it's no sacrifice at all."

"The Oddsmakers won't buy it."

"We'll make them buy it. I'll fight you like a wild animal. You won't have a chance of going after Xaran. That's what you'll tell them. That's what you'll
sell
them."

It was a risk for sure. The Oddsmakers might see through it. But if they didn't, it would spare Xaran and Vale both. If someone had to die, why not someone who wanted to?

"It's the only way you can get on their good side," she told me, giving me the hard sell to end all hard sells. "You
must
do this."

I felt like a major bitch, but she had a point. "Okay," I said reluctantly, feeling dirty down to my soul. "Let's do it."

~~~~~

When you wanted to fall in love, you thought it needed to be perfect. Whoever he or she was, they would sweep you off your feet at just the right time. They would say what you wanted to hear, and they would know when to hold you when words no longer were enough. They wouldn't hurt you, and they wouldn't lie. They'd be perfect in all ways, and in turn, that would make you perfect, too.

Vale and I weren't perfect. He'd lied to me so many times that I'd lost count. I'd argued with him and stood up to him in front of others including his brother. I'd done the exact opposite of what he'd told me to do and somehow he hadn't left me, when perhaps he should have. Together we were imperfect, but we were something special all the same.

I hadn't told him I loved him. He hadn't said the words either. Funny, that. Considering how often we'd faced  life-threatening situations together you'd think the timing would have been perfect for uttering those three little words.

But we hadn't, time and again, even though I knew I loved him. Even though I knew he loved me.

Did we fear that speaking the words aloud would set the stage for one of those chick flick tragedies? Did we worry we'd be tempting fate with our happiness?

Love was such a powerful thing. It could inspire you to do anything. Even, it turned out, things that went against our natures.

I followed the canary shifter behind the bar and past the old bartender who didn't raise his gaze from the square of wood he polished. She touched the back wall and a trapdoor opened in the floor. There were stairs leading down to a light source. The sound of impassioned voices. She looked back at me and smiled sadly. Then she raced down the stairs, the heels of her Mary Janes clomping like gunshots. I thundered after her in my boots.

I burst into the room just a few feet after her and immediately I saw the green striped wallpaper that was in Vale's memory stain. But my attention didn't linger long on the walls. The room was full of magickal beings of all sorts. And Xaran was there, standing in the middle of them as though he'd been leading a meeting.

Which he had been.

He and the others spun with alarm when the canary shifter began screaming, "She's found us! She's coming! Run!"

When Xaran saw me there in that secret place he finally revealed something other than cool cockiness. Naked fear flared bright like a fluorescent flag in the depths of his dark eyes. Xaran knew exactly why I was there.

The Reaper had come a' callin'.

"The Oddsmakers send their regards to Xaran," I announced loudly so every being there would hear me.

Pandemonium broke out.

Someone shoved open a door at the other end of the room. It led into darkness, so it was probably a tunnel to another exit. I needed to work fast, before they all fled.

I pulled up Lucky, made him big and bad and snarling. His light turned the room into a box of fire. Screams and howls and terrified barking combined into a nightmare cacophony. I bared my teeth and Lucky roared, just to twist the dial on their terror just a little bit higher.

"Traitor!" screamed the canary shifter. "You're nothing but a traitor!"

I didn't have to fake the angry roar that Lucky emitted. Dust rained down from the ceiling. More screaming. Lucky, excited like a predator facing a field full of running prey, lashed his tail from side to side, ready to wreak havoc.

"I'll stop you!" Curly Sue yelled. She turned and shoved Xaran toward the tunnel that the others were escaping through. "Run! I'll hold her off!"

Confused and caught up in the hysteria in the room, Xaran staggered backward a few paces.

That was my cue. I braced for Curly Sue to come at me. 

What a plan. Only love could have come up with a plan like this. Only love made you believe that life wasn't worth living if it wasn't with the person you loved, the person who made you perfect.

I'd agreed to the plan because I believed in love.

One sacrifice to save the rest. It was the only math that made sense.

But a second before going through with it, I muttered, "Screw that."

Her eyes rounded when she realized I'd changed my mind. She ran at me anyway, screaming like a banshee. My skin rippled with scales. I coughed out the fire that had been building in my chest. Orange flame licked across the room and she couldn't help herself—she dropped to the floor like everyone else.

Because in the end, we all want to live. And love can make us brave in different ways.

Remember, I told myself desperately.
Remember!

And then I gave in to the dragon.

I roared. The room shook and more dust fell. I surged forward and closed my jaws around Xaran, who let out a shout of anger and fright. Then I smashed through the ceiling, through a storage room on the ground floor, and burst through the roof of the Runaways and into the warm night air.

Dragon of doom! Dragon rules all! Dragon, dragon, dragon!

I flapped my wings hard, racing with my treasure for the dark, dark mountains. My prize wriggled and squirmed between the cage of my teeth. At some point it became a smaller thing with a different shape. I could feel its wings trying to flap, its sharp edges tickling the surface of my tongue. My tiny dragon brain was excited by my prey's struggle. Eating it would be all the more fun!

No, it needs to burn.

The thought came from nowhere, but I understood it to be true. Yes! Yes, I would burn it with my fearsome dragon's breath and then all the world would see what a powerful dragon I was. I flew faster for the mountains, that small, mysterious voice urging me to hide behind them so I could have my fun undisturbed.

It didn't take me long to reach the first crags of darkness. I circled gleefully, luxuriating in the smooth glide of my sinuous body through the air. I looped and spiraled, ignoring the fluttering wings of the struggling creature within my grasp. I roared around my mouthful, hearing my voice echoing throughout the canyons. Such a beautiful sound!

I swooped and spun for minutes, feeling joyful for my freedom. Something stabbed the side of my tongue. My treasure! It was time to burn, burn, burn.

The canyon formed a bowl that would be perfect for cooking up my treat. I would let it go, let it run, and think it had a chance. Then I would hunt it down and tear it apart and—

It needs to burn.

Yes, yes. Burn it. Let it sizzle in my blazing dragon's breath. I spat my prize down to the ground, watched it sprawl on the red dirt, its tiny wings struggling to right its body. It was a gargoyle. I knew this thing.

Remember: obfuscation
.

The word crinkled my brow. What was that? What did it mean? I hovered above my prey, uncertain why I wasn't simply burning it up. My tail flicked impatiently beneath me, stirring up a small cloud of dust and debris. The sight pricked a memory in my brain.

Obfuscation
.

I knew that word. I knew mystery and hiding and concealment and—a Honda at the base of a cliff, its headlights illuminating the clouds.

I coiled in the air and then began to fly a tight circle above the ground, faster and faster, spinning tighter and tighter. Below me, the dirt began to rise up in a funnel, forming a red sandstone dirt devil.

The gargoyle was somewhere down there beneath it all, but something compelled me to make the dirt devil even bigger and denser. So I did, widening my circle until a huge, wonderful tornado of red dust filled the canyon, blurring the sight of the mountains and everything beneath it. I could no longer see the gargoyle. Was it there?

It must be! Burn it!

I breathed a streamer of fire. The tornado caught the flames like a thrown rope. It twisted the yellows and golds into a funnel that rose up high into the sky.

Burn! Burn!

I roared with delight as the canyon filled with fire. Soon, I would burn the world!

Fight
.

I would fight, alright. I would fight like a dragon fights! I would bite and rip and tear and shred and—

I whipped my body through the air, pushing myself away from the dwindling winds of the fire tornado. I knew what I was and it wasn't a dragon. I crashed against a mountain, the sound echoing throughout the canyon like cannon fire. My blood sang to me and cajoled me. It reminded me how wonderful it had felt to be the dragon, to be myself,
finally
...

But I am just like my mother. Not a traitor. Not a dragon. A sorceress, with someone to protect.

I strained to separate myself from this serpentine body with its tiger claws and fangs that snapped. I resisted a terrible history and a stigma that had not been of my making.

I pictured a canary, surrendering her life to achieve vengeance for a black dog with blue flames around its head. That was love. The greatest power. More powerful than this dragon, who couldn't feel it. Who never would.

Fight this. You don't need Liliana to help you. You don't need Vale.

Fight yourself. You are who you choose to be.

You are not a traitor.

You are not a monster.

You are Anne Moody.

You are Anne Moody.

You are…

"… dying for a taco," I groaned as I woke up on the floor of the Runaways.

"Did you achieve the first part of your mission, Anne Moody?"

I tipped up my chin. "You saw it, didn't you? With your all-seeing Elvises, or whoever you use? I burned Xaran in the mountains. He's toast. If I'd known you wanted a trophy I would have done it differently. Sorry. Hazard of working with a dragon sorceress. I like to burn things."

I was playing a risky game, throwing attitude at the Oddsmakers, but sometimes I simply couldn't help it. I felt invincible. I had pulled myself back from my dragon on my own. I had conquered my greatest fear.

I felt like a Grade A Badass.

I stared challengingly at the figure beneath the black curtain/shroud thingy. But as the seconds stretched, nervousness began to set in. I thought of Kleure's fate. I thought of the countless others who had suffered at their hands. Going all in with the Oddsmakers risked not only my life, but the lives of everyone I loved.

I forced myself to think of other things, just in case they could read minds. I doubted it, otherwise my mom wouldn't have been able to trick them for three years, but you never really knew with these creepy weirdos. Safer to think of my softest blanket back home, and what I had wrapped carefully in it eight hours ago.

"You did well,"
the saccharine voice said at last.

Delayed reaction hit me like a mallet
. Holy cow, they bought it.
My knees were weak. If I'd been wearing shorts it would have been obvious that my legs were shaking.

"I held up my end of the deal," I said, glad my voice was steady. "You'll leave Vale and the rest of my friends alone."

"While you remain a friend of the Oddsmakers, the Oddsmakers will remain a friend of Anne Moody."

Hardly a promise to embrace. Sort of like receiving a friend request from Vladimir Putin, but I'd take it for now.

"I want to go home," I said. Though just a second ago the badassness had been strong in me, it was now rapidly draining from me like hair dye, revealing my graying roots.

When I'd returned to my body, which had been lying on the floor of the secret meeting place beneath the Runaways, it was to find the canary shifter watching over me. All the other members of the Rebellion had fled. Like the Oddsmakers, they were now convinced that I was a traitor to my own kind. Mission accomplished, I guess.

She hadn't said a word about my decision to spare her life and go full dragon. I didn't know if she was disappointed that I hadn't sent her to the other side to join Kleure or if she was relieved that she now lived to fight another day.

When I'd left her, I'd done so without knowing her name. I regretted that now, but at the time I hadn't been thinking all that clearly.

"We will call upon you when we require your services again, Anne Moody."

"Great." I saluted the ceiling of the Oddsmakers' lair. "Can't wait for that call."

I didn't expect a thank you and I didn't get one. The room grew colder and darker. A brick smashed into my head and the next thing I knew I was waking up on the floor of my kitchenette.

I really needed to get out of the habit of waking up on the floor.

A body hurtled toward me and dropped to its knees beside me.

"Moody!" Vale hauled me up against him like I was a ragdoll made of cotton. He all but cracked my ribs. I loved every second of it.

"I don't know," I gasped out as emotion suddenly swamped me. "I don't know if I did what I wanted to. I couldn't tell. I was in the dragon—it sees things differently."

Vale held me away from him so our eyes could meet. "You did what the Oddsmakers demanded of you," he said, his fingers tightening around my upper arms. Though his words were dire, his face told me a different story. I let my eyes slide shut with relief.

"Tit for tat," I whispered against his ear when he hugged me close again. Vale was an excellent hugger. All those hard muscles, that heat—you'd think he'd be as comfortable as hugging an oven. But by some trick of magick his body cradled mine like the softest, most awesomest bean bag chair. I didn't care about eating or sleeping. I only wanted to be held by him.

"What does that mean?" he whispered back. "Tit for tat?"

"Your memory stain of that night. No one could see…"  I couldn't say more for fear of pixies overhearing, but Vale was intelligent, and maybe he'd talked with Xaran about what had gone down tonight.

"Tit for tat, indeed." I heard the pride in his voice. He pulled back again, but only far enough to fit his mouth over mine. "I wish you hadn't done that alone," he whispered between feverish kisses that sought to turn me into a puddle right there in the kitchenette. "I wanted to be there with you. To help you find a solution."

"You were. You did." I carded my fingers through his deliciously tousled hair, hair I'd fought to return to. I broke our kiss, needing his full attention. "I-I want you to know something, Vale Morgan."

Curses and fate be damned. Not every chick flick ended up a tearjerker.

He caressed my cheek. "I already know, Anne Moody. I love you, too."

And there it was. Maybe the world would end, but hopefully not before I got some action.

He leaned over me, his dark eyes burning with possession. "You did it, Moody."

"They trust me," I whispered. I laughed, incredulous. "The cameos told me there'd be a betrayal and I thought it would happen against me. But it's me.
I'm
the betrayer."

"For the right reasons," he murmured.

"You know what else they told me?" I stroked his nape. "That you'd be trouble for me."

Vale's grin was wicked. "The kind of trouble you like, I hope."

I slid my hand down his spine. "I like a lot of things about you."

"Let me show you a few more things to like." His voice was rough and sexy, making me shiver. But the arms he curled beneath me to lift me off the floor were gentle and revealed how achingly protective he felt toward me.

My parents would have adored him.

They would have been proud of me tonight.

Neither of those things, however, were now possible. But one day, eventually, my parents would rest in peace, because I would find vengeance for all of us. And if the anticipation of that moment added a touch of spice to my lovemaking with Vale, well, that was just an unexpected bonus.

Book 4, Forged in Fire, is coming soon! Keep informed by joining the mailing list at

http://www.triciaowensbooks.com/moonlightdragon

Author's Note

I took quite a few liberties with the anatomy of the Stratosphere to make it the perfect location for an assignation between Anne and Vale. As much as I would love it, I doubt any magickal creatures would be capable of living there without notice.

Or is that what they want us to believe?

About the Author

Tricia Owens has worked as a casino dealer in Las Vegas and as an editor on a cruise ship that sails around the world. Having visited more than 80 countries, she's content (for the moment) to relax in Las Vegas. She assures you the real Sin City is much weirder than anything depicted in her books.