Chapter 15

15

Clarabelle slept soundlyin the arms of her dragon mate. How she’d changed in the days since they’d met, going from single and fine with it to in love and more or less married. Was it quick? Yes. But that only proved the strength of their mating bond. A tie she wouldn’t deny.

They woke to the sound of someone knocking. Dracin didn’t seem to care and remained spooned around her.

She on the other hand… “Expecting someone?”

“Nope.” He nuzzled the back of her neck.

“Could be a delivery.”

He snorted. “Out here? Not to mention I don’t like that online shopping shit. Most likely some desperate salesman or religious nut.”

The knocking ceased and turned into someone’s amplified voice. “I know you’re in there, Clarabelle. Answer the door.”

Her eyes widened. “It’s Marjorie.”

The declaration made him growl. “The woman who refused to let me help rescue you.”

His reply had her exclaiming, “Wait, you spoke to Marjorie? How? When?”

“I had someone unlock your phone for me so I could get some help locating you. I called your boss, but she told me to go chew on a bone and leave you alone.”

“I see you listened,” her wry reply.

He shrugged. “I wasn’t about to leave you a second longer than I had to with that bloodsucker.”

She sighed. “And I appreciate that, but it doesn’t sound like Marjorie does. I’d better go deal with her.” She rose, her flesh heating as she felt his stare roving her naked body. She offered him a coy look over her bare shoulder. “I’ll try to be quick.”

“I’ll be in the shower. Holler if you need me.”

Doubtful she’d need rescuing. Marjorie most likely wanted to check on her. She threw on a shirt of Dracin’s, long enough it almost hit her knees, and headed downstairs to let Marjorie inside.

The older woman entered with a huffed, “About time. I thought I was going to have to blow off the hinges.”

“Or you could have simply unlocked the door. Coffee?” Clarabelle asked, heading for the kitchen.

“Yes, but it better come with answers. What the hell happened? After the shifter you saved called, I got to Ottawa fast as I could with a team, only to find the vampire leader’s home in flames and most of his minions dead.”

Impatient dragon. She hid a smile as she answered. “Dracin was too worried to wait.”

“This Dracin wasn’t supposed to get involved at all. Damned wolves never listen,” Marjorie grumbled.

“He’s not a wolf.” The words slipped out, and she regretted it the moment Marjorie’s expression changed.

“Then what is he? I thought you said you rescued a shifter.”

“I did, just not a wolf.” She didn’t expand any further. The Keurig spit out the first coffee, and she handed it to Marjorie before making a second. “How did you find me?”

“Not easily,” Marjorie grumbled. “I happened to be doing a sweep in the sky for escaped vampires when I caught a trace of magic, which led me to a truck with a bespelled hat inside, along with your bag. I had someone run the plates, which led me here. You should have called to let me know you were okay.”

“I didn’t have my phone.” A weak excuse. In reality, she’d not been thinking about anything other than her relief at surviving and the pleasure Dracin offered.

“Start talking and don’t leave out any details, because, right now, I’ve got a very angry vampire council wondering why their appointees for this city were killed.”

“As I told you already, he was trafficking witches, shifters, and other nonhumans.”

“You have proof?”

“Nothing on paper yet, but I can testify, as can Dracin.”

Marjorie’s lips pinched. “Are there others who can corroborate?”

“Most likely. The previous victims were sold. I don’t know to who, yet. My untimely capture didn’t allow me to uncover where they went. However, a forensic audit of the clan’s financials should give us a clue.”

“I take it you had to fight your way out, hence the fire.”

“Actually, Dracin rescued me. A good thing since Theodore had a Circe’s Collar.”

Marjorie spat out her coffee.

While Clarabelle wiped up the mess, the coven’s highest-ranked witch gasped, “What do you mean he had a Circe’s Collar? None are missing from the vault.”

“It wasn’t stolen. He came across one that was missed.” She went and fetched the box to show Marjorie, who blanched at the sight of the collar.

“Put that thing away. It gives me the shivers just seeing it.” Marjorie shuddered.

Clarabelle shut the case. “I don’t have the controlling bracelet. The witch wearing it—”

“Wait, he had a witch helping him?”

Clarabelle nodded. “One of the ones who went missing. She’s dead, her body in the basement with Theodore and the vampires present.”

“I wonder if we can retrieve the bracelet from the ruins,” Marjorie mused. “The fact he had this will make our case more solid. Although it would help if we could find witnesses to his perfidy who aren’t connected to the coven or involved in this Theodore’s killing.”

“I’m sure Dracin and I can track some of the servants and shifters he controlled. I saw some of them escaping when all Hell broke loose.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t stay behind to control the mess.” Disapproval lined Marjorie’s words and expression.

“Dracin was more concerned with getting me far away.”

“More like he couldn’t wait to seduce you, knowing you’d be grateful for his rescue.” Her lip curled.

The barely veiled disgust lifted Clarabelle’s chin. “He didn’t have to try hard since we were already lovers.” At Marjorie’s pinched expression, she added, “And for the sake of honesty, we’re mated.”

“You can’t be!” Marjorie’s quick retort. “It’s against the rules.”

“What rules? I’ve never seen it written anywhere. It’s always more been a suggestion because of the incompatibility between witches and other nonhumans, which is apparently dependent on the couple.”

“Witches can’t have babies with shifters.”

“Not true. Look at Dracin. He’s the result of a wizard and a wolf falling in love.”

Her lips pressed. “He’s an abomination who should have never been born.”

“How can you say that?”

“Because he’s a dragon.”

Clarabelle blinked. “How do you know?”

“I wasn’t sure until you mentioned the origin of his parents. True mated, I assume?” At her nod, Marjorie added, “The progeny of such a coupling, when successful, are dragons. The most dangerous of creatures.”

At that, Clarabelle snorted. “Hardly.”

“You’re going to tell me he’s never killed anyone?”

“Only to protect himself and me.”

“For now. They’re cold-blooded killers.”

“Then what does that make me? Or are we not tallying those I’ve had to eliminate to keep the coven safe over the years?” her sassy reply.

The rebuttal had Marjorie looking pissed. “History has stories about them.”

“History is often wrong, which you should well know. Look at what it says about witches.”

“Most of which is true. We are devil-worshipping magic users.”

“But we don’t steal babies or curse crops,” her retort. “Just like he doesn’t go around biting people and stealing sheep.”

“What about debauching virgins?”

“Marjorie!”

“What? It’s a valid question, given what I know.”

“No virgins. Wouldn’t want the pressure.” Dracin’s deep voice interrupted, and Clarabelle turned to see him leaning in the kitchen doorway. His hair remained damp from the shower, but he’d dressed in a T-shirt and jeans. He padded barefoot toward her, and she tilted her head for a kiss, not caring if it made Marjorie mad.

Sure enough, Marjorie grumbled. “You know I can’t condone this.”

It led to Clarabelle being snippy. “Then don’t. My life, my choice.”

“The coven will have to be told. Once they know, you’ll be demoted from your position, if not outright banned.”

“For what? Daring to be in love?” Clarabelle snapped.

“Witches and shifters aren’t supposed to mix.” Marjorie’s prim reply

“Too late,” her sassy reply, which led to Dracin trying to hide a snort. He busied himself making a coffee.

“You are making a mistake,” Marjorie insisted.

“Or maybe the coven needs to re-evaluate some of its long-held beliefs. You say you know about dragons, but the ones you speak of are long dead. Their supposed actions written down by a third party. And we know how that works.” Distortions were in the eye of the history re-teller.

“We can discuss this more later. We have some cleanup to do, seeing as how you left a giant mess,” Marjorie complained.

“I thought the fire handled the vamps.”

“It did, and I’ve left Nexie on site there to make sure the firemen don’t find anything they shouldn’t. However, according to Jandy, who’s been doing some digging into Theodore’s records, there are at least two other locations we need to check out.”

She recalled Beth’s information. “The Barn and Sewer. We’ll need heavy firepower, as that’s where he kept the ferals,” Clarabelle noted.

“Really?” Marjorie actually perked up. “Finally, some evidence that doesn’t rely on your testimony. That will go a long way toward cementing our case to the vampire council.”

“Vampire council, witch coven, werewolf packs. What’s the organization for dragons?” muttered Dracin.

“There is none because you’re not supposed to exist.” Marjorie’s reply.

“Or maybe we do but you don’t know about us because of your attitude,” his hot retort. “Ever think that maybe, just maybe, we don’t want to deal with ignorance? How about you judge me for my character and not what others have said about dragons long dead?”

“I don’t need to be turned to stone by a basilisk to know it’s dangerous.” Marjorie’s prim retort.

“I’m not a monster,” Dracin grumbled.

“Only time will tell.” Marjorie eyed Clarabelle. “How quickly can you be ready to go?”

“We just need to get dressed and have a bite to eat,” Dracin stated. “Once we’re done in the city, I can grab my truck to bring us home.”

“We?” Marjorie arched a brow. “You’re not invited.”

“Don’t be stubborn. He can help,” Clarabelle insisted. “He’s the one who saved me last night, on his own I might add.”

“I don’t know how he’s planning to join us. I rode here on my broom, which we both know can’t handle two people. And before you tell me a dragon can fly, I’d say he might draw attention, given it’s a sunny, blue-skied day and even the best witch can’t hold two illusion spells at once.”

Before Dracin could say anything, Clarabelle sent him a mind message. Don’t mention you have magic!

He pressed his lips. “I don’t like the idea of Clarabelle going alone.”

“She won’t be alone. She’ll be with me, and others from the coven.”

Clarabelle put a hand on his arm. “I’ll be safe. The protocol with ferals is to not even get close to them. We’ll confirm their nest, seal the exits, and ignite the interior.”

“And if there’s a human guard like at the mill?”

“Then, when night falls, you’ll have to rescue me again.” She leaned up to kiss his cheek and whisper, “I’ll be fine. It will give me a chance to talk to Marjorie.”

He kept his misgivings to himself but couldn’t hide his glowering expression. It only lightened when he reminded her the broom was in the back of the truck, meaning she had to ride a mop, the kind with long woolly strands. Her coven would never let her live it down.

Dracin held her close for kiss and a murmured, “If you need me, I will come.”

She cupped his cheeks. “Ditto!” She winked when he blustered.

The mop fitted between her legs, he arched a brow. She blushed because she didn’t need to read his mind to know where it went.

Marjorie huffed, “If you’re done making googly eyes, can we go?”

They took to the sky, not saying much, as they both had to pay attention to the magic that kept anyone looking to the sky from seeing them. While Clarabelle went with a classic mirror shield that reflected the sky around her to anyone looking, she noted Marjorie instead chose a bird illusion, a big dark crow. Interesting idea. It might be a better option for Dracin for daytime flights, because, no matter what Marjorie said, Clarabelle would be staying with him.

The Barn owned by Theodore’s clan turned out to be in the midst of an overgrown farm field, the exterior wooden planks of it a faded gray from the elements, with more recent patches to repair weak spots standing out in stark contrast. They didn’t need to peek inside to smell the stench of death and decay. Ferals weren’t known to be fastidious like their vampire makers. Something in them lost what humanity they used to have and turned them into blood-hungry beasts.

“You keep watch on the far side for any that might try to escape,” Marjorie declared, lifting her hands to ignite.

“Where are they going to go?” The bright sunshine would roast any feral that tried to run.

“Are you going to be contrary about everything I say?” her coven leader growled.

Rather than reply with more sass, Clarabelle stomped to the other side of the barn. She tapped her foot while the structure went up in flames, the black smoke a beacon that would draw firefighters. They’d be gone before their arrival.

No one screamed or tried to flee the inferno, and so they took to the sky once more, with Clarabelle sliding close enough to try and speak. “I thought you brought a team.”

“I did.”

“Then how come they weren’t in that field?”

“Because the barn didn’t have any exits, so I sent them to watch over the sewer nest. While we’ve pinpointed the location, the many tunnels will make it harder to contain the ferals within for culling, not to mention we won’t be able to just set the place on fire with all the moisture and concrete.”

“What’s the real reason you didn’t want me bringing Dracin? We both know I could have conjured a cloud for us to travel in.”

“Because a single moving cloud isn’t strange at all.”

“People would have remarked on it and gone on with their day,” her hot retort. “Why are you so convinced he’s bad?”

“Know any good vampires?”

“Not yet. But I have known some bad witches. Met one yesterday who thought nothing of me being put in a cage, collared from my magic, and then stealing it from me.”

“A rarity rather than the norm,” Marjorie scoffed.

“Given neither of us met dragons before, couldn’t the same be said of Dracin?”

“Hoping he’s a rarity could see you dead.”

“Then that would be my own fault. I don’t know why you’re being so obstinate about this,” Clarabelle argued. “He’s been nothing but kind to me. Risking himself for me.”

“I don’t want to see you hurt. Best to end it before that happens. I’m just looking out for you.”

A sudden insight hit. and she blurted out, “You fell in love with a non-witch, didn’t you?”

For a second, Marjorie didn’t reply. When she did, she had a flat tone. “There was a man I met when I was much younger. A selkie, who rescued me from a boating accident. We became lovers, and he wanted me to become his wife.”

“But you said no?”

“Actually, I said yes, without thinking because I thought I was in love. But a selkie can’t live on land full time, although he tried. Tried until the lack of water drove him mad.” She went silent before adding softly, “He tried to take me to his home at the bottom of a bay. I almost drowned. Had to kill him to escape and save myself. For a while after, I wished I had because of the pain in my heart. You see, I, too, thought I could ignore the differences between us. That love would conquer all. But love almost killed me.”

“I’m sorry for what happened,” her soft reply. “But my situation isn’t like yours. For one, Dracin lives in a house. He has a job, and he participates in society.”

“He’s a dragon with needs you can’t understand.”

“And I’m a witch who will also have things he can’t grasp. It’s up to us to discuss and work through those issues.”

“What if you can’t? What if he, too, one day goes mad and hurts you?”

“If that ever happens, then you can say ‘I told you so.’ But you have to realize your bad experience doesn’t automatically mean all mixed matings will fail.”

“You’re like a daughter to me, Clarabelle.”

“I know, and I love you too, but you have to trust me.”

“I do.” Marjorie sighed. “I just hope you’re not wrong.”

The moment of understanding explained much, but Clarabelle didn’t have time to fully delve into it, as they arrived at a rooftop, where Bessie waited for them.

Bessie provided a summary of what they’d done. “We’ve sealed as many tunnels and shafts as we could find in a half-mile radius around the nest. Grates leading to the outside are being watched where there is little traffic. However, there were too many for us to completely cover. Not to mention, some of them are busy with foot and vehicle traffic.”

“Well, now that I’m here with Clarabelle, we can provide extra eyes.”

Clarabelle glanced to the sky, the blue still vivid, but a sharp wind from the west had her glancing to see clouds racing in. “We need to move fast before it gets dark enough for them to move.”

Marjorie took a post at a busy alley, while Clarabelle got to keep an eye on the street directly above the nest. Unlikely they’d choose to boil out into the open, but desperation might force them out.

When the magical bomb unleashed underfoot, Clarabelle felt more than saw the result. The pavement undulated ever so slightly, but not enough to bother the steady stream of cars. Then smoke emerged, foul and dark, which had some of the pedestrians covering their faces and complaining. A bus rolled to a stop over the spewing grate, the driver putting on his hazards before emerging and running into a sandwich shop.

Clarabelle couldn’t crouch to watch the sewer grate without looking odd, but she could bend over and tie her shoe. It would have helped if people didn’t keep blocking her view. It wasn’t as if she expected a feral to suddenly pop out, though. Where would it go? The bus would only provide temporary cover.

Just as she rose, her shoe tied so well it might never come off again, she saw something. A movement under the bus. Before she could get closer for a crouched peek, the driver hopped back in, sandwich in hand, along with a coffee. As he drove off, the whiff of burning flesh had her cursing.

She took after the bus on foot, spare phone borrowed from Marjorie—since Dracin informed that her own phone had been destroyed—allowing her to text, Following a bus. Might have a feral clinging to the undercarriage.

Marjorie replied: K.

Thankfully traffic kept the bus from moving fast. She had almost caught up to the vehicle at the next light when it started moving. She paused her panting butt for a second, cursing the fact she couldn’t magic her shoes to fly when she realized the grate the bus had been stopped over was moved to the side, a smear of something gross along its edge.

As she went to text Marjorie to tell her she’d be going into the sewers to follow, someone bumped into her and knocked her phone onto the road, where it got promptly run over.

Dammit.

She hesitated only a second before throwing a quick cloak around herself so that no one would notice the woman who jumped into the hole. Hopefully she wouldn’t be too long. An injured feral should be easy to track.

Wrong.