Elven Doom (Death Before Dragons Book 4) Page 3

  “I am aware of that,” Zav said.

  “I do not want to lose another brother. Even a self-important half-brother with delusions of the virtues of nobility.”

  “Meet me at the spire. We will discuss this further. In private.”

  “An excellent idea. Leave your female prize out of the affairs of dragons.” Zondia shifted back into her natural form and sprang off the roof as if the wet cement were burning her feet. She flew west, toward the Space Needle.

  I almost laughed, imagining a dragon tête-à-tête in front of the windows where people were dining. Inevitably, one or two people with the blood of magical ancestors would be able to see them, and start screaming and pointing. Until security carted them out of the place.

  “Val,” Zav rumbled.

  I still had a hand on his chest and felt the vibration of his voice. Though I might not admit it, it pleased me that he’d stopped calling me a mongrel and now used my name.

  “Zav.” I patted his chest and shifted to step back. With his sister flying away, we didn’t have to pretend any longer.

  His arm tightened around my shoulders, keeping me close. His gaze was locked on me again with that same intensity.

  “We are just pretending, right?” I patted his chest again, though a wild, terrified part of me wondered what I would do if he didn’t let go. If he pulled me closer and tried to claim me for real. “Because we both know I vex you as much as I vex your enemies. So you said those things just to fool your sister. Because if she reports back to your mother that you were lying, other dragons would come after me, right?”

  He snorted softly, his grip loosening. “You do vex me.”

  “And the rest?”

  He hesitated.

  I glanced at Sindari, wondering if he would comment, but he was sitting patiently and not looking at us, as he had been since Zav showed up and we embraced.

  “It is important,” Zav said, “that all dragons believe you are mine. For your protection, until Dobsaurin’s death is forgotten or something else has distracted all those with perches in the Dragon Justice Court.”

  “Would your sister happily turn me in if she figured out this isn’t real? Or would it make sense to tell her the truth and bring her in as an ally?” I would have a hard time trusting Zondia, since she’d been clear she thought I was orc piss, but she did seem to care about Zav. Maybe she could be brought around. “I ask because she’s been collecting my medical records and who knows what else. She’s determined to find proof that I’m planning to betray you. Or that I’m unfit or something.”

  Was that a possibility? That if someone had medical issues, they would be disqualified from being claimed by a dragon? Sorry, no asthmatic mates for a high lord of dragondom. They’re not worthy.

  It was silly, but I’d always been careful not to use the inhaler in front of him. I hated this weakness that had only started plaguing me this last year, and I didn’t want anyone other than my doctors to know about it. It was bad enough that Willard knew. But I’d seen her in a hospital bed almost dead, so it seemed fair that she know my problems too.

  Zav raised his eyebrows. “Is there something she could find that would lend proof of that?”

  “No. That’s not the point. She’s invading my privacy.”

  His eyebrows remained up, reminding me that, no matter what Zondia said, Zav hadn’t forgotten his past experiences. As he’d already told me, he didn’t fully trust me. He might like it when I vexed his enemies, but it bothered him that he couldn’t read my thoughts the way he could most humans, and even though he’d never said it, I suspected it worried him that I had a weapon that could harm a dragon. Technically, Chopper had even killed a dragon, though that had been an extenuating circumstance.

  “Whatever.” I moved to step back again, and this time, he let me, his moment of pretending we were more than we were forgotten. “I guess it doesn’t matter. I just don’t appreciate someone diddling with the minds of people I know to gather information about me. I do have a lot of enemies, you know.”

  “My sister will not be an enemy to you as long as you are not an enemy to me, but I will instruct her to leave this world. There is no reason for her to be here.”

  “Good.” I wasn’t confident in his assessment of his sister’s threat level to me. “Thank you.”

  “And later, we will discuss our plans for finding the two dark elves that I seek. And that I have instructed your employer to make you seek at my side.”

  “We were already seeking them. They’re up to no good in our city.” I didn’t want Zav to believe he could order Willard to give me assignments that aligned with his interests.

  “Your employer will obey my wishes.” Zav nodded firmly and walked toward the edge of the rooftop. “She informed me that she sees the immense value of having a dragon in this city.”

  “That’s because she’s diplomatic.” I noticed his colorful paint-spill sneakers again as he walked away and added, “And because you weren’t wearing those shoes. Otherwise, she would have been too busy falling out of her chair laughing to acknowledge your immense value.”

  Zav gave me a hard-to-read look over his shoulder, then shifted into dragon form. He sprang into the air, flying off for that chat with his sister.

  Why do you insist on goading him? Sindari asked.

  It’s called teasing, not goading. I tease you too.

  But I cannot incinerate you with a thought.

  You threaten to bite my foot off on a regular basis.

  You can live without a foot. Incineration is forever.

  4

  When Nin and Dimitri approached my table at Bitterroot BBQ in Ballard, I smiled warmly at them. I was relieved to have dinner with normal, non-threatening human beings instead of dealing with dragons, trolls, angry homeless people, or anyone else with ill-will toward me. Admittedly, one-quarter-gnome Nin and one-quarter-dwarf Dimitri weren’t entirely normal, but their magical blood and enhanced crafting abilities meant they understood my world better than most.

  “Thanks for coming.” I had taken the bench seat against the wall so I could see the door and waved them into the chairs opposite. “Order anything you want. It’s on me.”

  “Sweet.” Dimitri plopped down, the chair creaking under his big frame.

  “You do not need to pay for me, Val.” Nin’s tiny frame barely moved her chair. “I am a successful entrepreneur.”

  “I know you are.”

  “I’m not.” Dimitri smiled, but as with most of his smiles, it had a glum cast. “Not yet.”

  “I asked you to join me so I can ask your opinions about something,” I said. “Paying is the least I can do for your time.”

  “I actually want to ask you about something too. Both of you.” Dimitri pointed at my chest and at Nin’s. “I have an opportunity to improve my status as a successful entrepreneur, but I need to make sure I don’t screw it up.”

  “You’re not going to try to talk me into putting on a dress and selling tinctures and yard art to innocent passersby again, are you?” I asked.

  Nin’s eyebrows flew up. This week, she’d dyed her hair a color that reminded me of cans of lemon-lime soda, but her slender eyebrows remained black.

  “You didn’t hear about my work at the farmers market?” I asked her.

  “I did. Dimitri said you sell well. I didn’t realize a dress had been involved. I’ve never seen you in a dress.”

  “It was a one-time occasion.”

  “You must be striking in a dress.” Nin gave me an assessing look. Or was that a calculating look?

  “You’re not going to ask me to sell something for you, too, are you?”

  “I don’t know. Can you pronounce Sua Rong Hai yet?” That was Nin’s signature—and only—dish at the food truck.

  “I can say beef and rice.”

  “Hm.” She looked me up and down again. “Maybe it would not matter if you were in a dress that showed your cleavage.”

  The waiter chose that moment to appear an
d, judging by his glance toward my chest, had caught the comment. He took drink orders, left menus, and departed.

  “You’re turning into a real American entrepreneur, Nin,” I said.

  “This is good. I have almost made enough to cover the repairs from the burning of my food truck last month. Soon I will have enough to buy a house and bring my family to America.”

  “Speaking of entrepreneurship…” Dimitri had been poking at something on his phone, and he leaned over to show it to Nin, and then to me.

  “Commercial space for lease in Greenwood,” I read aloud.

  Dimitri swiped through photos of the interior and exterior of a 1960s avocado-green building with a cracked glass door opening toward a busy street. Next, he showed me a space in Fremont. Lastly, one up in Shoreline.

  “That’s the least expensive,” he said. “Followed by Greenwood. Fremont is a fortune. I don’t know if Zoltan will go for that. The leases on these commercial properties are all at least five years. That’s a big commitment.”

  Nin’s forehead was wrinkled in confusion. Mine was too.

  I wanted to ask the two of them if they could tell me anything about the orb shard before I took it to Willard’s office for her people to examine—more specifically, I wanted to ask Dimitri if his vampire alchemist buddy Zoltan would take a look—but I felt obligated for the sake of friendship to show an interest in whatever he was doing. Life had been simpler when I’d been avoiding making friends or even long-term acquaintances of any kind, to ensure they would never be hurt by my work, but it had meant more dinners out alone too.

  I waved at his phone. “Maybe you can unpack your plans for us if you want us to say something wise about them.”

  “Zoltan said he would become my business partner and help pay for the rent if I open a store to sell my yard art and include his formulas, tinctures, and lotions, and any other quirky stuff he wants to make. He’s been thinking of ways to capitalize on his internet fame by starting an online store, but he can’t go to the post office and ship things.”

  “Would mail services not pick up the packages from his place of business for an extra fee?” Nin asked. “I believe they will even pick up from a house if you do business out of your home.”

  “But not the carriage house in the back yard four hundred feet from the curb.”

  “Can’t he leave the parcels by the mailbox?” I imagined a nefarious, cloaked vampire skulking through the shadows, a deadly threat to the necks of anyone he passed, carrying a stack of boxes of soaps that had been ordered from his Etsy shop.

  “Not right now. The new homeowners moved in to the main house.”

  “I guess they would think it odd if a stack of parcels was sitting by their mailbox every morning.”

  “I believe so. Hence this solution.” Dimitri smiled at Nin as he waved flamboyantly at the rentals. “I can run the store, pick up all the stuff he makes a couple of times a week, do all the stocking and selling things to customers, and he doesn’t have to leave his secret underground chamber.”

  “That sounds like a good deal for Zoltan,” I said.

  Nin nodded gravely. “You have described your duties as those of an entry-level assistant.”

  “Guys, I live in a van. I am entry level.”

  “This is not the way an entrepreneur must think,” Nin said.

  “More importantly, wouldn’t you have to move to Seattle for this?” I tapped his phone. “Aren’t you paying my mom rent to live in her driveway in Oregon?”

  “I gave her two weeks’ notice a while ago. Bend is nice if you’re into the outdoors. I injure myself when I go there.”

  “Your dwarven ancestors would be impressed by your heartiness,” I said.

  “I’m hearty indoors. Thoughts on these locations? Once I learn the ropes of running my own business, a real business, not a stand at a farmers market, I can hire other people to be entry level.”

  I thought he should master the farmers market before moving on to someplace where he was committed to a five-year lease, but Nin spoke up before I could quash his hopes and dreams.

  “Let us look at each location, the demographics of who lives there, and the likelihood that your products would be of interest to the community.” She looked at his information and plugged the addresses into her map. “The Greenwood location is right on Greenwood Avenue, so that is very good. A high-traffic thoroughfare. But it is far to the north in suburbia. There would be little foot traffic, so you would need to do a great deal of marketing to make people aware of the store. Is there parking? Hm, no parking lot. Forcing people to use street parking is not ideal for a business. Shoreline. This is a house that was converted into an office building and is now a retail space. The rent is low, but the traffic is not very good. This is also very much in a suburban area. The Fremont location is expensive, but there would be a good deal of foot traffic. I see there is also only street parking, but that it is more typical in that part of town. The building is another converted house, but this one is not a rectangular box. It has character. I believe this is in line with the brand you will establish.”

  Dimitri looked at me. “Have you ever noticed that she’s a lot more articulate than we are?”

  “You’re surprised? She makes more money than either of us and doesn’t live in a van.”

  Nin flashed a smile.

  “So your vote is for Fremont?” Dimitri asked her.

  “Yes. Look, it is next door to a psychic. And an ice cream shop.”

  “That’ll bring the foot traffic racing to your door,” I said.

  “Do you think Fremont too?” Dimitri’s expression was earnest, as if he truly valued my opinion.

  I wanted to tell him this was a big jump for someone with little experience, but he looked so hopeful. I was reluctant to throw a bucket of ice water on his dreams. Besides, Zoltan had deep pockets. If he truly would be the backer, maybe things would work out. Going into business with a vampire alchemist. What could go wrong?

  “Yeah,” I said. “Fremont is quirky, and your, uhm, merchandise qualifies as quirky. People coming to see the psychic next door are definitely going to be susceptible to—open to buying enchanted yard art.”

  “Are psychics real?” he asked.

  “Uh, maybe? If she had a magical ancestor, she might get some legitimate premonitions. Prescience is typical among gnomes and elves.”

  “So you and Nin might be psychic?”

  “I am not,” Nin said.

  “I can tell when people are going to die right before I shoot them,” I said.

  Dimitri frowned. “You have… ghoulish moments, Val.”

  “Yup.” We ordered our meals, and I pulled out the shard from the orb. “Now that we’ve masterminded your problem, I was wondering if either of you two enchanter types could tell me anything about this.”

  Dimitri took it first. “Is this from that orb you told me about under the shifters’ house?”

  “Another one like it.” I was encouraged that he’d guessed that, especially since he hadn’t seen the one under the house. Could he recognize the faint magical signature remaining in the shard as being dark elf? “The in-one-piece orb was in Rupert’s bar a couple of weeks ago. Now the bar is closed and the orb is gone. Except for that.”

  “You found it left behind?” Dimitri asked.

  “Kind of. I mugged an eight-year-old for it.”

  Their eyebrows flew up.

  “I didn’t mug him,” I corrected. “I captured him and took it from him.”

  “That’s what mugging is, Val,” Dimitri said.

  “I gave him forty bucks for it.”

  Nin poked him in the shoulder. “I do not believe either of us should hire her to sell our wares.”

  “I agree,” Dimitri said. “She is a ghoul.”

  “Ha ha. Can you tell me anything about it?”

  Dimitri closed his eyes and rubbed it between his thumbs and forefingers. He got so caught up in the examination that he didn’t notice the waiter placing
his bowl of pulled-pork-smothered macaroni and cheese down in front of him. That encouraged me. Dimitri had talent. Plenty of it. I’d seen it. Maybe his innate senses would tell me something.

  Nin was also scrutinizing it. “I sense magic about it,” she said when the waiter departed. “A strange magic with a sinister edge. I would not use it in my crafting.”

  “Sinister weapons aren’t good?” I asked. “I would think people would pay more for them.”

  “This magic seems like it would be as dangerous to the owner as an enemy.”

  The orbs I had seen lured people into getting locked into worlds of such internal pleasure that they forgot to do anything else. I didn’t know yet how the dark elves planned to use them, but in a vault in Willard’s office building, there was a notebook I’d taken from their lair, and it was full of recipes on how to make the orbs and other artifacts.

  Dimitri opened his eyes. “I agree with the assessment of sinister. I also wouldn’t want to incorporate it into any of my work.”

  “Will you take it to Zoltan and see if he can figure out anything more concrete? I’m trying to learn where the dark elves went, what they’re up to, and how I can find them and kick their asses.”

  “And you’re expecting this to tell you?” Dimitri held up the shard.

  “Not expecting. Hoping.”

  “Zoltan will charge you his hourly rate.”

  I grimaced. “Lawyers and prostitutes don’t charge as much per hour as he does. What if you, his business partner who’s going to do all the work in your collaboration, ask him about it without mentioning me?”

  “Is this the reason you’re buying me dinner?” Dimitri asked.

  “I’m buying you dinner because I enjoy your wit and company.” I pushed his macaroni and cheese toward him.

  “I can’t believe you can say that with a straight face. I have no wit.”

  Nin poked him again. “Do not be falsely self-effacing or you will begin to believe you are flawed. Entrepreneurs must be aware of their weaknesses but optimistic overall and able to rely on their strengths.”

  Dimitri opened his mouth, as if to protest, but he closed it, considered, then said, “Okay.” He pocketed the shard. “I’ll ask him about it.”