Secrets of the Sword 2 (Death Before Dragons Book 8) Read online

  “Someone’s grouchy because this isn’t a real hotel and there aren’t beds,” I muttered.

  “I do not require beds.” He gave me a smoldering look over his shoulder, but that might have been left over from lighting things on fire.

  I drew Chopper, using its blue glow for illumination rather than drawing attention by turning on lights, and trailed Zav toward an elevator. Halfway through the bottom floor of displays, my nerves started itching, and I thought I detected wisps of fog similar to what had been in Willard’s artifacts room.

  Maybe it was my imagination. The haze wasn’t as dense or nearly as obvious as what I’d experienced that morning.

  “Do you sense something?” I asked.

  Zav was waiting at the elevator, a sign saying it was for staff only. “Residue.”

  “What does that mean?” I couldn’t put a finger on it myself. As before, it registered to some other sense than my built-in magic detector. More like what normal humans would call a sixth sense. A seventh sense? A hunch or intuition that something unnatural was here…

  “Magic was here and left evidence of its presence.” The elevator doors opened for Zav, and he stepped in. “Come. It is stronger upstairs.”

  Worried we would be attacked by more invisible enemies, I touched Sindari’s charm and summoned him. Even though I believed Zav could take care of just about anything, it wouldn’t hurt to have a second ally if we ended up battling enemies on multiple fronts.

  Zav lifted his chin. “You summon the tiger because you do not believe I can sufficiently protect you?”

  “I’m sure you can. I wanted his opinion on whether the rations stacked on that display shelf are originals or reproductions.” I pointed to crates of canned beef and pancake flour.

  By now, Sindari had formed at my side, and he gazed at the display. Zav didn’t even bother looking. He was giving me an I-am-disappointed-by-your-lack-of-faith look.

  Canned meat sounds loathsome, Sindari said. Lord Zavryd would agree.

  “Depends how much sugar is in the sauce.” I smiled at Zav, hoping he would forget to feel affronted.

  “Come.” He pointed at the elevator floor.

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  Your dragon seems grouchy this evening. Sindari walked at my side to the elevator. Is Lord Zavryd disappointed because there haven’t been any glorious battles lately?

  He’s disappointed because there hasn’t been any glorious sex. I smiled again as we stepped inside and kissed Zav on the cheek.

  I did not require that information, Sindari said.

  Now you’ll know not to comment on Zav’s mood.

  Indeed.

  The elevator rose without anyone touching anything. Hopefully because Zav was using his magic, not because it was haunted. So far, I didn’t hear or see any signs of ghosts, but the hairs rose on the back of my neck as we ascended to the third floor. The doors opened, and the mystical fog lay thick before us.

  “Hell,” I muttered. “You still think there’s just residue here?”

  It is the same fog as before, Sindari said, not yet stepping out. Do you suspect the thief and the box are here?

  It’s possible.

  “The residue is more pronounced here. And as I said, it is possible that there is a magical artifact that is camouflaged to make it difficult to detect and pinpoint.” Zav didn’t hesitate to step out. Could a dragon be sucked into an interdimensional realm? “I will deal with it.”

  He strode off down a wide hall. Before I’d taken more than two steps after him, a cold breeze whispered at my cheek, and a faint crying reached my ears.

  “Maybe we’ll wait here while he deals with it,” I murmured.

  Sindari’s tail swished. I did not enjoy the morning battle against enemies I couldn’t see.

  “Tell me about it.”

  Zav disappeared into an office at the end of the hall. A few seconds later, a scraping noise came from another office. It sounded like furniture being dragged across the floor.

  “You guys hear that, right?” I called softly, not wanting to yell in case our thief was lurking nearby and also camouflaged. I eyed the walls for cameras, but there was no sign of a security system—pre-existing or recently installed—on this floor.

  Zav didn’t answer me.

  Sindari lifted his head and sniffed. Someone has been here within the hour.

  “Do ghosts have scents?” I joked.

  I do not believe so, he answered seriously.

  “Someone may have worked late.”

  I doubted it. What kind of museum required its employees to work this late? The hours listed on the door hadn’t been expansive.

  Sindari padded halfway down the hall, turning into the office that the scraping noise had come from. The faint crying continued as I followed him.

  The office smelled musty, and dusty drop cloths covered the furnishings. I was surprised the door had been open.

  Fog curled around Sindari’s legs as he looked at something behind a covered desk. He picked it up with his teeth and backed toward me.

  “A food wrapper? That’s what you smelled?”

  Someone has been sleeping back there.

  I accepted the wrapper and checked where he’d been looking. A couple of the furniture cloths had been made into a bed on the floor, with one of the fake bags of flour from downstairs leaned against the wall like a pillow.

  The person I smelled slept here, Sindari said. It was a woman.

  “A half-dwarf woman?”

  I cannot determine that from scent. She smells like someone from this world.

  “A cookie connoisseur apparently.” I held up the wrapper to Chopper’s glow. “Or maybe biscuits. This isn’t in English. Our thief must have imported her favorite snacks.”

  Had she traveled all the way here to try to get my sword? Maybe she’d sensed it earlier in the month when the fae taint had turned it into a beacon detectable for hundreds, if not thousands, of miles.

  The scraping sound came again, from the other side of the desk.

  I spun with Chopper raised, not sure whether to expect a mouse or a ghost. Sindari went to investigate first. I was too busy staring at a familiar purple glow that now filled the hallway outside. More hairs rose on the back of my neck.

  “That wasn’t there before.” I raised my voice. “Zav?”

  I do not smell or see what made that noise. Sindari eyed the ground beside the desk.

  More worried about Zav, I returned to the hallway. The purple glow flowed out of the doorway to the office he’d gone in.

  Moving shadows danced on the walls, and cold chills stroked my cheeks. I swatted Chopper at the air around me and ran toward the office, anticipating invisible grips would try to stop me.

  A whoosh of magical power flared from inside of it. The purple glow disappeared abruptly.

  I made it to the doorway without being grabbed and lunged inside, half-expecting to find Zav gone, sucked into another dimension and that box yawning open.

  He stood in the corner, gripping his chin and gazing down at the exact box I’d seen earlier. The lid was open, but the glow had disappeared.

  “Did it sense your mighty dragonly approach and short out?” I lowered my sword.

  The fog was fading, along with the creepy chill drafts that had teased my cheeks. Only the woman’s crying remained, faint and far off. Maybe the old hotel truly was haunted, and the noises had nothing to do with the box or my thief.

  “No. After removing the camouflaging spell to locate it, I turned it off.”

  “You didn’t have to close the lid?”

  Sindari joined me inside, curling a lip and showing a fang to the box.

  “By using my power to depress the dragon sigil.” Zav gripped the box, tilting it so we could see the bottom. The profile of a dragon’s head was etched into the surface, and it glowed a faint purple.

  “Dragon sigil? Is this a dragon artifact?” I’d assumed it was either dwarven or came from that haunted world.

 
; “Yes. I recognize it. A Zhapahai. It is for trapping interdimensional creatures to study.”

  “It almost trapped me this morning.”

  “It can trap anything, but it was designed to work on the wild worlds that have creatures that can shift in and out of our dimension. There was a time when dragons wanted to master the skill of these creatures to use as a weapon against our enemies.”

  “And that time is gone?”

  “We have grown more adept and powerful with our magic over the generations, and few enemies exist who can challenge us openly. As far as I know, the studies ended, and the Zhapahai were all placed in museums.”

  “Klondike Gold Rush museums on Earth?”

  “No. This should not be on this world. It was likely stolen.”

  “By our thief? How has she gotten all these magical devices?”

  “How have you gotten all of your magical devices?” Zav looked pointedly at my charm necklace, then at Sindari.

  Sindari sniffed. I am a magical tiger, not a magical device.

  “Not by stealing them.” I folded my arms over my chest, not pleased by the insinuation. I’d thought Zav was past calling me a criminal.

  “My point is only that many artifacts have been stolen and found their way to this world.” Zav lowered his hand. “I am suspicious, though, that this may have been given to your thief as a way to assist her in getting you.”

  “Not another Silverclaw that wants to see my demise, I hope.”

  “There are many Silverclaws, some who are scientists and who would have known about such devices.”

  “What would have happened if I’d been sucked into it?” Maybe I didn’t want to know.

  “It would take a scientist to read the settings,” Zav said, “so I cannot say for certain. It may have delivered you to a cage in a dragon scientist’s laboratory.”

  “Maybe I should let it take me so we can find out who’s responsible.”

  “It may also have dumped you into a xrackaw-filled swamp on Yagobar. Or into the magma of an active volcano.” He scowled at the box.

  “On second thought, I’ll stay here, and we can leave that thing turned off.”

  Magic tickled my senses, and the box started to fade. Disappearing just like the one that morning had?

  Zav rested a hand on it, and his own magic surged. The process halted, and it solidified again.

  He lifted it from the floor and, with another rush of power, opened a portal. There was barely room for it between a desk and a filing cabinet.

  “I will take this to an ally who may be able to tell where it came from and what the settings are. I will return in the morning and take you to Dun Kroth to find the provenance and secrets to your sword. It is important for you to learn this information since so many seek to claim it for themselves. We will delay no longer in researching it.”

  The provenance. That meant we might find out who it truly belonged to, and I would have to say goodbye to it. I gazed sadly down at Chopper.

  “I suggest you return to your abode where the defenses are sound. This thief may have more tricks under her talons.”

  “I’m certain of it.”

  Zav strode toward the portal but paused to look at me, his gaze softening. “I will return in the morning,” he repeated, “and tomorrow night, we will enjoy tysliir.”

  “Won’t we be on the dwarven home world?”

  A hint of a smile touched his lips. “They allow sex there.”

  “Good to know,” I said as he sprang through the portal.

  Do you and Lord Zavryd speak of things other than mating? Sindari sat on his haunches, probably wondering why I’d summoned him.

  “Occasionally. Want to stick with me for a while in case a thief jumps out with powerful artifacts and tries to slay me on the way home?”

  Will Dimitri be at the house?

  “Are you only staying with me if he’ll be there to pet you when we get there?”

  No, but it would be a perk. He has a crafter’s hands.

  “What kind of hands do I have?”

  They are brusque and rarely adoring.

  “I’ll work on that.”

  Do.

  9

  The next morning, I gathered all of my gear and headed to the coffee shop to see if the thief had been by and to wait for Zav there. I’d sent a text to Amber, letting her know I would be out of contact for a while but that she was welcome to send updates about her school life and that I would read them when I got back. That had earned me a yuck face.

  “It’s fine,” a whiny boy voice was saying as I walked into the shop, drawing out the single-syllable word to at least two. Reb slouched by the coffee kiosk with an ice pack to his eye while his surrogate mother, at least until she found him a full-blooded troll mother willing to take him in, frowned down at him.

  “Did you pound them mercilessly into the ground?” Inga asked. “You know trolls will keep striking if they sense weakness in you.”

  “I know that. I am a troll. You’re just a big human with troll hair.” Reb wrinkled his face at her, then seemed to regret it as he winced and adjusted the ice pack.

  Our barista, Tam, was making drinks and pretending not to pay attention to the exchange. Dimitri was in the back, with semi-professional lights shining down on a row of dragon door knockers in different colors as he took photos of them. He probably didn’t have to pretend not to pay attention.

  I swung by the kiosk for a couple of sparkling waters to take with me to dwarf land—hey, a girl had to have a few luxuries—and asked, “Everything okay?”

  Even though I hadn’t been responsible for Reb’s father’s death, it had been tied in with the dark elves I’d been investigating, and I felt some guilt over not being around to keep them from killing him. I was glad Inga had volunteered to take care of the boy, even if troll mothering techniques would have given Child Protective Services fits—had they acknowledged that trolls existed.

  Reb slouched further. “Fine.”

  “Fine.” Inga managed to sound almost as sullen and surly, but that was a typical tone for her.

  “Need help with anything? Beating up trolls is a specialty of mine.”

  “So I’ve heard.” She gave me a dark look.

  At least she didn’t call me Ruin Bringer. We’d come to a semblance of peace, though I doubted Inga would ever adore me.

  “I could show him a few moves. I’m teaching my daughter to fight.” I wondered what Amber would think about having a troll sparring partner.

  “I will instruct the boy,” Inga said. “And teach him enchantments that could be useful.”

  “I don’t want to learn magic,” Reb said to the floor at her feet. “I told you. I’m going to be a warrior. Like Sinjar the Bold!”

  “That is a troll folk hero,” Inga explained to me.

  “Did he have a cape?” I paid for the bottled drinks and swung my backpack to the floor so I could make room for them. It was jammed full with my extra ammo and grenades as well as less-explosive supplies, such as food, water, a multi-tool, rope, a blanket, a first-aid kit, and chocolate. The necessities.

  “A what?” Reb asked.

  “A cape. Like superheroes on Earth.”

  “Capes sound sissy.” Reb pointed at my open pack. “Are those grenades?”

  “Yes. I’m going somewhere dangerous. I’d wear a cape if I had one. They’re not sissy. Haven’t you heard of Superman?”

  “Sinjar the Bold could kick Superman’s ass!”

  Inga cuffed him. “Language.”

  He spat a stream of words in trollish at her that likely involved more dubious language. Inga lifted her hand in warning.

  “You’re not my real mother,” he blurted, then ran off—or tried. He tripped over my pack on the way, cursed again, and charged for the back exit.

  Inga sighed. “Troll males are difficult.”

  “Are the females easy?” I arched my eyebrows.

  Given that she was six-and-a-half-feet tall and a perpetual grump, I
couldn’t imagine that her human mother—I supposed I didn’t know if she’d had a human mother—had found her easy.

  “They are more reasonable.” With a stiff back, Inga strode off after Reb. “It is time for your schooling.”

  A distant shout came from the end of the hall, something about warriors not needing schooling.

  Most of the time, I regretted that I hadn’t been around when Amber had been growing up. But sometimes, I was secretly relieved that all I’d had to deal with had been murderers and rapists.

  “She better be careful if your police officer comes back around,” I told Dimitri as he joined me with his iPad open, photos in the process of being edited. “It’s not legal to hit kids anymore, at least not in this country.”

  “Must be a new rule,” Dimitri said. “My dad clobbered me regularly. To man me up.”

  “No, it was illegal ten years ago too. As Thad informed me when we were still married and raising toddler-Amber. If she was misbehaving, we were supposed to talk to her about actions and consequences and then have her sit on the naughty step as punishment.”

  “It must have worked well. She’s so polite and well-mannered today.”

  “I didn’t know your voice could get that sarcastic.”

  “Please. Sarcasm is the official language of New York. What do you think of these pictures? Nin is going to help me get an online store up and running, so we can keep selling dragon door knockers even after all of our regular clientele have them.”

  I sensed Zav’s aura, not near the shop but back at the house. He must have expected to find me there instead of checking on the shop. Well, he would figure out where I was.

  “Make sure to include a photo of the pink one,” I said as Dimitri finished showing me the digital camera roll. “You want buyers to know all of the options available.”

  “That option isn’t available.”

  “We’ve made three.”

  “Not willingly.” Dimitri swiped through the pictures, which looked pretty good. At the least, they were better than the blurry, shadow-engulfed images I took with my phone’s camera. “I’m sticking with black, blue, and green.”