CHAPTER ELEVEN

Dios mio, I’m standing in front of a dragon.

A talking dragon as big as a house, whose huge green hand reaches toward me with curved claws as big as my arm.

Sturrm remains steady by my side. He’d be all protective and jumping in front of me if there’s any actual danger.

Since he’s not, that means I don’t have to worry. Instead, excitement fills my chest, bubbling like I drank an entire bottle of sparkling wine on New Year’s Eve. I’m meeting a real dragon!

With an amazing amount of control for someone so large, the dragon brushes its claw over my shoulder. Magic sizzles through me like a lightning strike, making the hair all over my body stand on end.

“What…” I suck in a breath. “What was that?”

“You should be able to understand us now,” the dragon says, the voice now registering as female.

My mouth drops open, eyes widening. Magic is so amazingly awesome!

Sturrm spins me around, his eyes searching my face. “Did it work? Can you understand us?”

“Yes!” I grin up at him.

“It’s about time,” the unicorn says in a masculine voice.

“It certainly is,” the dragon says, looking at Sturrm. “You should be carrying one of the crystals I imbued with the power of the speaking stone.”

He bares his tusks. “I was carrying one of them, but before I could use it—”

“She made all of his clothes disappear!” the unicorn yells with a whinny of a laugh, one hoof pawing the ground as if he can barely contain his mirth. “You should have seen it!”

“I think I’m fine without the visual, thank you,” the dragon says. “Perhaps if I had access to my elfin form, I’d find a naked orc more appealing, but for now…” Her sail-sized wings rustle on her back as she lifts them in what must be the dragon equivalent of a shrug.

The unicorn laughs so hard his breathing becomes labored.

Sturrm scowls at the unicorn with enough force that I almost expect laser beams to shoot from his eyes.

I can’t help but laugh too, even as my face heats with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to do it. ”

“Yes, well, the magic crystal was in my pocket, so it’s wherever my pants are,” Sturrm says. Then he looks at me. “Which is where, exactly?”

“No idea. Sorry.” I shrug, empty palms raised. “Kind of new to the whole magic thing.”

“What magical power did you get?” the dragon asks, her green head tilting as she assesses me with a huge golden eye. Her pupil widens from a vertical slit into a tall oval.

“Healing,” I say, excited all over again. “I’m a healer.”

“Fascinating.”

“I still don’t understand how that made my clothes disappear.”

When I turn, my gaze falls on Sturrm’s still-naked chest. Yum. Zero regrets. I say, “I’d never seen a green man before.”

“I’m an orc.”

I nod slowly. Maybe I should have paid attention when that guy in college made me watch Lord of the Rings ? Then again, maybe not—I sure don’t remember those orcs looking anything like Sturrm.

“Anyway, I’d never seen an orc before, and I’m a medical student. So I kind of wished I could examine you and determine what you are, and… whoosh.” I spread my hands wide. “Bye-bye clothes.”

“Whoosh,” the unicorn repeats before breaking into laughter again.

“Humph.” Sturrm spins around and stomps over to two trees at the edge of the meadow. A large leather pack hangs six-feet off the ground, suspended in midair between the trunks using ropes. He unties them, and as soon as the pack hits the ground, he’s got it open, rummaging inside to pull out spare clothes. He yanks a dark-blue tunic shirt over his head with a pleased grunt and returns to us.

“I’m Dash, by the way,” the unicorn says.

“Hi, Dash. Selena.”

He nods.

“I am Sheevora the Magnificent,” the dragon says. “It is nice to meet you, human witch Selena.”

“Witch,” I breathe.

“Is the term a problem?” That head tilt again.

“Nope.” I shake my head. “I mean, there are a lot of people on Earth who think witches—or brujas—are evil, but my family never believed that.” Not with Abuela Abigail and all her stories.

“Why did you say witches twice?” Sturrm asks.

“I used the English word and then the Spanish.”

“No, it was ‘witches’ both times,” Dash says.

“It’s the translation magic,” Sheevora explains. “It translates her two human languages into dragonish for me, orcish for you—” She tips her head toward Sturrm. “—and unicorn for you.” She glances at Dash. “So you hear the same word in your language each time.”

“Oh,” I say. “So when I say ‘carajo,’ it doesn’t sound like a charming foreign word, then?”

“No,” Sturrm growls.

“You said ‘fuck.’” Dash snorts, mischief sparkling in his golden eyes. “Which isn’t foreign at all, but I’m sure if you try hard enough, you can make it sound charming.”

“Are there any… uh, societal rules prohibiting swearing or women swearing?”

“Fuck, no,” Sturrm says. “Not for orcs. ”

A chuckle bubbles from my lips, and his twitch in amusement. Oh, I like this. Talking to him is way better than guessing what’s going on.

“I appreciate that you have a lot to discuss,” the dragon says. “But I have other matters to attend to. I only returned because the youngling I sent said you were missing.”

“I apologize,” Sturrm says respectfully. “It could not be helped.”

Sheevora reaches a huge clawed hand toward the air in front of her stomach. A blast of magic pulses outward, and her hand disappears , only to emerge holding a rolled-up piece of parchment. “I have a map of the caves thought to contain the crystals you seek and an account of how to use them to create the antidote. Everything’s been translated into orcish. I’ve also placed my seal upon it. Show it to any dragons you may encounter, so they will know you have my approval to travel our lands.”

Sturrm accepts the paper with a half bow. “Thank you, Sheevora the Magnificent. The orcs and humans appreciate all of your aid in finding this cure.”

Cure? That pricks my interest. That means there’s a disease or something.

Before I can ask what it is, the dragon booms a farewell. Then magic pours from her like the feeling the air gets right before a lightning strike. She launches upward, her wings snapping out, pounding the air like thunder as she soars up into the sky.

“Whoa.” My head tips backward as I follow her flight, my brain still trying to process how something so huge can fly.

She banks to change direction and swoops back over us, her wide wings blocking the sun, so a dark shadow flows over us like a sped-up eclipse.

“Well, orc, I thought your earlier words were exaggeration, but you spoke true,” Dash says. “The dragons really have allied with your people.”

Sturrm whirls toward him, his face a thunderstorm, his shoulders high and tight. “You thought I lied? You’re calling me a liar?”

“Did I say lie?” Dash rolls his golden eyes. “Don’t be so literal—or do. Because I distinctly said ‘exaggeration,’ not lie.”

“Wait,” I say. This doesn’t feel like how friends fight. “I thought you two were friends.”

“We are,” Dash says at the same time Sturrm says, “We’re not.”

“Ouch. That gets me right here, that does.” Dash raises his hoof and taps at the front of his chest. His voice sounds serious, but mischief glimmers in his eyes. “And after everything I’ve done for you.”

“You have done me a great service. That much is true.” Sturrm’s hand drops from the hilt of his sword, but he doesn’t lose his scowl.

Mierda. I didn’t even realize he grabbed it until he let it go. He seems so calm and steady, but there’s also a lot of passion hiding inside him, along with an ability and willingness to fight. I shouldn’t forget how he took on that gray monster.

“Get off your high horse.” Dash tosses his head, flipping his black mane from one side to the other. Then he brandishes his horn toward me. “It’s not as if you and the complete truth are close bedmates these days, now is it?”

“Shut your mouth.” Sturrm takes a threatening step forward.

“Oh, is the upstanding orc hiding something, after all? I thought you wanted us all to be completely forthcoming.”

“What are you two talking about?” My hands go to my hips as my gaze ping-pongs back and forth between them. “And what does it have to do with me?”

“Nothing,” Sturrm mutters, his eyes shooting daggers at the unicorn.

“Everything,” Dash counters.

“Co?o! I hate not knowing things!”

They both startle and turn to look at me.

Dash recovers first. “Did you just say—”

“Unicorn…” Sturrm growls a warning.

“—female anatomy parts?” The orc’s warning must have worked, because I don’t think those are the words Dash was originally going to say.

“Sorry.” I give a quick shrug. “Spanish is like that. Words have different meanings in different regions, and where I’m from, that’s more like ‘dammit’ than… female anatomy parts.” My lips twitch as I repeat the unicorn’s careful phrasing. “I guess the translation magic is seriously literal.” I guess I need to watch how I swear, which is a real pain in the ass, because I’m used to being around either south-Florida Hispanics, who know what I mean, or non-Spanish speakers, who don’t know enough to get upset .

“Back to the point. Tell me everything.” I start counting things on my fingers. “Where are we? Who are you? And what’s all of this about a cure?”

“Let’s see where we’re going so we can talk as we walk.” Sturrm crouches to spread the dragon parchment upon the ground, then unfolds another, larger map he takes from his pack.

“Don’t you mean ride?” Dash steps closer.

Sturrm stares up at him. “Do I? We only discussed rescuing Selena.”

“You do.” Dash’s hoof stomps against the ground to make his point, kicking up a small divot of grass. “You two are by far the most interesting thing I’ve encountered in years. And now there are dragons. I will carry you on your quest.”

Sturrm’s gaze remains steady and assessing, his eyes narrowing a tiny bit. Then he gives a sharp nod. “All right.”

“So where are we?” I ask, in a rush, everything I’ve been wondering about for the past few days pouring out of me. I tap a finger to the map, unable to read any of the words. “Is this Faerie? Because I think it’s Faerie.”

“It is!” Dash says. “How did you guess?”

“I had an ancestor who told stories about it. Her name was Abigail. Her grandmother had visited Faerie as a small girl, so Abigail spent her youth trying to find the door. She never could, and people thought she was mentally unstable, so her family shipped her off to Peru, which is a different country on the other side of the ocean from England.”

“That seems a little extreme,” Dash says .

“Mierda, yeah.” I say. “But I’m glad, because she’s why I know anything about this place, and she left her daughter, and therefore me, this.” I hold up my crystal necklace.

“How long ago did Abigail live?” Sturrm asks.

“She died about a hundred and fifty years ago.”

“Then she wasn’t mentally unstable,” Sturrm says, his deep voice serious. “The doors to Faerie closed three hundred years ago, isolating all the realms from each other and cutting us off from your world as well.”

“Ay! That’s good to know.” I mull over his words, then snap my fingers. “But if the doors are closed, how did I get here?”

Dash asks, “Did a big ball of light scoop you up?”

“Yes!”

“That was the goddess.” He sounds smug, like he already knew I’d say yes.

Shock zips through me. “Carajo, what? A goddess ?”

“The Moon Goddess,” Sturrm says. “Alarria used to be a lost realm, empty of inhabitants, but once the doors of Faerie closed, the goddess brought various fae here. Most of them, like my orc ancestors, arrived hundreds of years ago.”

“Yeah, the only people the goddess brings now are human women who are moon bou—”

“Unicorn,” Sturrm barks in a warning tone and glares.

Dash laughs and flips his mane but doesn’t continue.

“Moon what?” I ask, glancing back and forth between them.

Sturrm scowls instead of answering.

What in the world is he hiding?