Home > Storm Forged (Death Before Dragons #6)(2)

Storm Forged (Death Before Dragons #6)(2)
Author: Lindsay Buroker

That’s what you think happened to your uncle? He was sick for a while, and now he’s disappeared?

Yes. He is—was—one of my mother’s most staunch supporters as well as her brother. She will miss him and also miss that he stood beside her in the Ruling Council.

Do any of those Silverclaw Clan dragons get sick and disappear? Maybe this was a dragon thing that had been going on for millennia, but I was immediately suspicious that his enemies had something to do with it.

Occasionally.

Oh. Recently?

They lost a female a couple of centuries ago.

I said recently.

Zav’s head tilted slightly. That is not recent?

Not by human standards, no.

A familiar SUV pulled up to the front of the house, the driver parallel parking in a tight spot without trouble. Colonel Willard got out, wearing jeans and a T-shirt instead of her army uniform. She raised a hand toward me as she walked around and pulled two potted plants out of the passenger side of the SUV.

I waved back, though I worried those were housewarming gifts and we were getting more things for Freysha to grow. “I guess Dimitri invited everyone to his barbecue.”

Barbecue? Zav had been spreading his wings and crouching to spring into the air, but he paused. I smell meat.

“I’m not sure hot dogs count as real meat, but the burgers looked okay. You’re welcome to stay and eat before you go.” I smiled slightly, imagining Dimitri’s horror-stricken expression as Zav strolled back and vacuumed up everything on the grill.

You would feed me? His gaze locked on to me again.

I doubted he was thinking randy thoughts while in his dragon form, but we both knew where feeding him in his human form could lead. “Sure. Unless you think it’s too dangerous. Then I could have Sindari feed you.”

Imagining the big tiger swatting burgers off the grill and into Zav’s open mouth also amused.

Funny. Continue your magic lessons, and then I will return and let you feed me.

“Let me. You honor me so.” Maybe I should have stuck to telepathy instead of speaking out loud, because Willard was giving me a weird look as she came up the walkway. She glanced at the yard a few times, since I was looking in that direction, but she didn’t see Zav.

“Who are you talking to, Thorvald?”

“Zav. He’s hidden on the lawn.”

Willard looked toward the rhododendrons under the windows.

“Yeah, behind one of those.”

I must go. I will return later for meat.

I wanted to give him a hug, since he sounded glum, but that would have been hard to manage while he was in his dragon form. And Willard would think I was crazy for embracing something she couldn’t see. All I did was think, I hope your uncle is all right and that you find him.

Yes. Dragons didn’t seem to have the concept of thanking people in their culture.

As Zav sprang into the air, the wind from his wings buffeted Willard and me. She blinked and looked in the right direction as he flew off.

“I’d wondered,” she said, “how all those firefighters putting out the flames at Weber’s house failed to see the dragon tussle you reported going on concurrently.”

“Magic.”

“It’s disconcerting to know they can be that close without being detectable.”

“You still want me to marry him?”

“Of course.” Willard smirked. “Who else would have you?”

“Thanks so much.”

She climbed the stairs and put the two pots in my hands. “Your housewarming presents.”

“You sure these are for me and not Freysha?”

“They’re herbs. Rosemary and mint. They’re anti-inflammatory. Good for someone like you. Put them on the kitchen windowsill.”

“Someone like me, huh?” I hadn’t told her about the mold, but she knew about the inhaler and my wayward lungs. The military knew everything.

“I thought about getting something with even greater benefits, like a maritime pine tree—the bark is fabulous—but they grow a hundred feet tall and prefer a Mediterranean climate. It seemed ambitious for your windowsill.”

“How do you know such things?” And who ate pine bark? I imagined Willard out in the woods licking a tree.

“I read books. You should try it.”

“I read books.”

“Harry Potter and The Hobbit don’t count.”

“Bite your tongue, herb woman.” I eyed the plants. “The leaves on this one have been chewed on.”

“I bought them last night. That was long enough for Maggie to sample them.”

“Does cat saliva inhibit growth?”

“You’ll have to ask your elf.”

“You can ask her yourself. Dimitri’s having a barbecue. Do you want to join us?” I pointed at the door, inviting her in, despite her disrespect for quality literature.

Before she answered, Thad parked across the street in his BMW, bringing Amber for her sword-fighting lesson. I’d offered to drive up to Yost Park in Edmonds, the spot we’d met the last few times, but I’d also mentioned that I had a private yard now that we could use.

“I did want to talk to you about something,” Willard said.

“You’ll have to stay then.” Guessing what it might be about, I added, “I’m researching the charms I got from Weber. Have your people gone over all those artifacts that you looted from his estate?”

“We didn’t loot them. We confiscated them for study until such time as it can be determined if they were legally obtained.”

“How does one determine the legality of artifacts taken from another planet?”

“It’s not easy. It could take decades.”

“Do we get to use them in the meantime?” I thought of the magical weapons that had been in the stash.

“No.”

“You’re a buzzkill, Willard.”

Amber and Thad were walking up, so Willard dropped the subject.

“This place is old.” Amber peered up at the house—including the turret I’d claimed for my bedroom—and wrinkled her nose.

“It’s a classic,” I said.

“A ’69 Mustang is a classic. This is just old.”

“Uh huh. Head out back. I’ve got the practice swords waiting. You can grab a hot dog before we start if you want.”

Amber walked inside obediently, but the words, “It smells like old people and mold in here,” floated back.

“Your daughter is exactly what I expected,” Willard said dryly, reminding me that they hadn’t met before. Technically, they still hadn’t met since Amber hadn’t hung around for introductions.

Thad stopped at the bottom of the stairs and lifted an apologetic hand. “She tends to be blunt.”

“That’s what I meant,” Willard said.

“When do you want me to pick her up, Val? An hour?”

“That’s fine, or you can stay and join the barbecue group, if you want.” I questioned the words as soon as they came out. If the girlfriend who hated me found out that Thad had hung out at my house for an hour, she might lop off a few of his favorite appendages. “There’s a bunch of people. And a tiger.”

Maybe that would make it all right. I would be busy with Amber, not chatting with him.

“Uh, all right.” Thad’s face creased with uncertainty—maybe he was also thinking of ramifications with the girlfriend—but he shrugged and managed a smile. “I wouldn’t mind seeing how the lessons are going. There have been fewer bruises than I expected thus far.”

“I’m an expert, not a brute.”

Willard snorted.

I glared at her but waved for them to go through the house to the back yard. Another magical being registered on my senses, and I paused before following them. It wasn’t a dragon, but it did feel like someone with full magical blood, someone coming up the street in this direction.

What if an orc or a shifter had already found out about my change of address and planned a drive-by shooting?

But the aura didn’t belong to any of the more belligerent species in the magical community, those who usually targeted me. I hadn’t met many full-blooded gnomes, but the aura reminded me of Nin, with her one-quarter gnomish blood.

The owner came into view, darting from recycling bin to mailbox to garbage can, a hood covering his face and a cloak flapping around his ankles. It might have been a her. It was impossible to tell, but the being was short—only about three and a half feet tall—which would be the right height for a gnome. The skin of the hands gripping the cloak was leathery brown.

The figure kept stumbling, as if injured, and glancing back. I stretched out my senses, trying to detect other magical beings who might be chasing him.

At first, it looked like he would run past the house and have nothing to do with us, but the figure halted with a lurch and looked over at me. The sun was behind him, and with his hood pulled up, I still couldn’t see his features, but he teetered as he stood, and I had the impression of someone in pain.

“You need help?” I called.

He glanced back the way he’d come, looked at me again, and then ran toward the side of the house and the gate into the back yard.

“I guess that’s a yes.”

2

After making sure I still didn’t sense any trouble coming—at least not magical trouble—I jogged through the house to warn everybody about the intruder before he made it into the back yard. But the little gnome was fast. By the time I exited the kitchen, I found him in the middle of the patio—sprawled on his face and completely covered by his hood and cloak.

Nin, Thad, Amber, Willard, Freysha, Dimitri, and his guests were all gaping down at the unmoving figure. Even Sindari gazed at him in puzzlement.

Willard looked at me. “Did you shoot someone?”

“Did you poke someone with a sword?” Amber sounded more curious than alarmed.

What did it say about me that my friends assumed that if there was a body, I was responsible?

   
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