Protect Seattle

Chapter 1

1      

“I believe this one summons a djinn.” 

“Did your books tell you that, or are you guessing because it’s shaped like an Arabic genie lamp?” I picked up the bronze charm, one of a dozen that I’d taken from bracelets around my previous employer’s wrists. 

His wrists, as well as the rest of his body, had been charred and smoking at the time. I was a little conflicted about claiming the charms, since I’d been on the payroll as his bodyguard when he’d died, but as an assassin who regularly battled magical bad guys, I needed all of the advantages I could get. 

“Arabic genie?” Freysha’s elegant elven eyebrows rose. “I am familiar with the cultures of the denizens of the Cosmic Realms—” she waved at books stacked on the kitchen table around us, most of the tomes written in goblin, elven, or dwarvish, “—but I am only now learning about the cultures of this planet. Earth is considered one of the wild worlds and, until recently, was of little interest to anyone in the rest of the realms.” 

“So I’ve heard.” I set the trinket down with the rest of the eclectic collection. “I appreciate you helping me research all of these, but my priority is to figure out which one let Weber resist the compulsions of dragons. I not only need that one badly for my own charm necklace, but I might even push Sindari—” I tapped the feline figurine at the center of my leather thong, “—off to the side to give it a more prominent position.” 

I heard that, sounded Sindari’s voice in my mind. 

I thought you were outside getting your ears rubbed. 

I looked through the open back door to the back yard of the rickety old Victorian house I’d recently moved into with Freysha and my other new roommate Dimitri. Zoltan, the vampire alchemist, was also technically a roommate, but he lived in the basement, didn’t come out during the daylight hours—and only rarely during nighttime hours—and didn’t pay rent, so I was more inclined to think of him as a feature of the house. 

It took me a moment to spot Sindari, since more than the usual number of people were in the back yard. 

Dimitri was hosting a barbecue get-together. He stood in front of his newly purchased gas grill, tending to hot dogs and hamburgers, while Corporal Clarke and a couple of guys Dimitri knew from the Seattle club scene chatted amiably and played a game involving tossing hoops onto the pointed ears of a gargoyle. Dimitri had constructed the gargoyle out of recycled bicycle parts and plumbing fixtures, and it was supposed to zap anyone who climbed over the back fence and into our yard. It didn’t react to the hoops assailing it. 

Nin, whom Dimitri had lured over to his shindig by promising they would discuss plans for the coffee shop we all owned together, kept trying to turn the conversation to profit-and-loss statements and the need to closely monitor inventory. Sindari, my huge silver tiger from the distant realm of Del’noth sat beside her, his tail swishing on the patio pavers. 

I was allowing Nin and Dimitri to stroke my head in a respectful manner, but then one of his dubious acquaintances came over and rubbed the fur on my back the wrong way. It was all I could do to refrain from biting his hand off. 

That wasn’t Corporal Clarke, was it? 

No. He knows he’s not permitted to pet me. I roared at him. 

I hope that wasn’t the roar that makes your enemies wet themselves, because we just got the back yard looking respectable. Pee stains on the patio aren’t cool. 

“It hasn’t been a simple matter to determine which charm does that.” Freysha moved the genie lamp aside and picked up three other trinkets from the collection. Unlike the elegant bronze, silver, gold, and ivory charms, these were a mishmash of tiny pieces of warped metal and rocks that looked to have been smashed together into lopsided balls by pliers and then glued into place with resin or pitch. They were as attractive as gum stuck to the bottom of one’s shoe. “It may be one of these.” 

“Don’t even suggest that. There’s no way I’m moving Sindari’s charm aside to put one of those around my neck.” 

“I know what the elven ones do without even researching them.” Freysha pointed to two silver charms she’d already set aside. “I’m familiar with the magic of my people. And I believe those two dwarven trinkets are designed to help you become a better crafter.” 

“Guess I’ll give those to Dimitri and Nin. I already make wicked friendship bracelets out of thread. No need for magical enhancement.” 

Freysha’s eyebrows drifted north again, and I reminded myself that she hadn’t been on Earth for long and didn’t have a frame of reference for my jokes. I should save my sarcasm for those who could appreciate it. Though I wasn’t entirely positive anyone appreciated it. Zav only liked it when I turned my sharp tongue on his enemies. 

“I will keep studying these,” Freysha said. 

“Thanks. I really do appreciate your help. And your help with the magic lessons too.” 

I waved toward the sunroom—Dimitri insisted on calling it a conservatory, but that was a lofty name for a drafty greenhouse full of cracked glass—where we’d been having our morning practice sessions. Each lesson started with me sticking my fingers into dirt and helping Freysha pot plants, but as surprising as it seemed, I was learning how to use the magic that had been flowing through my veins unbeknownst to me my whole life. I couldn’t do anything cool yet, like levitate or hurl fireballs, but I was getting better at speaking telepathically to others and keeping intruders out of my mind. 

If I could learn to magically make my lungs work better, that would be fantastic. As I’d feared when we signed the lease papers, the old house had a mold smell in a couple of the bathrooms, including the one next to my bedroom, and I’d woken up from nightmares more than once and the need to reach for my inhaler. Maybe I should confess my problem to Freysha—I hated admitting my health weaknesses to anyone and hadn’t even told Zav—to see if she had any ideas for fixing them. But as far as I could tell, she wasn’t a healer. Her specialty was forest magic, whatever that was. 

Freysha lifted her head and looked toward the living room, or maybe beyond. Her eyes were distant and unfocused. “Your mate comes.” 

“Zav?” I hadn’t seen him for a few days and wasn’t sure if he had gone back to his world or had been chasing a criminal on a distant part of Earth. “Maybe he’ll know which charm can keep dragons out of your head.” 

Freysha gripped her chin and picked up one of the junky resin balls. “If it is one of these, I will be surprised. They were made with goblin magic, and their shamans don’t usually have the power to create anything strong enough to resist dragons.” 

“Trinkets pieced together from beer cans and paper clips aren’t effective weapons against dragons? Who would have thought?” 

Zav flew within range of my modest senses. He was alone this time, not with his sister, Zondia, and that was a relief. She still hated me and made snide comments if Zav and I kissed or looked at each other with ludicrous mushy eyes—that was her term for it. 

“I do not know what those items are, but I assume you refer to the goblin knack for reusing and recycling the detritus of other races. They are quite resourceful.” Freysha smiled fondly. “Few of the other lesser species give goblins much credit.” 

Zav landed on the lawn out front but did not take his human form and come into the house. That disappointed me, because it probably meant he wasn’t staying. Now that I was learning to protect myself better from the powerful magical beings who liked to use me against him, I thought he might want to take our relationship to the next level. Maybe not during Dimitri’s barbecue… but my evenings were open this week. 

Are your lessons progressing? Zav asked telepathically. 

Yeah. If you come in, I’ll show you how I can punt Freysha out of my mind while rubbing my fingers in the dirt under a fern. I hoped to quickly get past the stage where I needed the peace of the soil, as Freysha called it, as a focal point. 

I would like to come see this— it didn’t sound like Zav found dirt rubbing odd, —but I must return to my world to assist my mother for a time. 

Is something wrong? 

Zav hesitated. He hadn’t filled me in on all of the details of the dragon political situation, but I’d gotten the gist that, though his family was in power and had been for some time, they were losing their hold, and the Silverclaw Clan—and who knew how many others—wanted to take over. My uncle Ston’tareknor has gone missing. It is possible he’s dead. 

Due to foul play from dragons? 

That is a possibility, but he was sick before he disappeared. This has happened before with other dragons in our family. 

Sick? My lungs tightened in sympathy, and I walked outside, both to see him and for fresh air. I wouldn’t have guessed dragons could get sick. 

It is rare. When it comes to the few viruses that have the potential to affect us, our scientists have mostly found ways to combat them with magic, but a dragon still occasionally falls ill and flies to the stars. 

Flies to the stars? Is that a saying? I found Zav still in his dragon form, taking up the entire lawn with his tail spilling down to the road. People were pushing strollers along the sidewalks and riding bicycles down the street toward Green Lake, but none of them noticed him, either because they lacked magical blood or because he was using his power to keep them from seeing him. Thanks to a road construction crew working with a jackhammer down on Green Lake Way, he probably could have roared, and it too would have gone unnoticed. 

Zav lowered his head to the level of the covered front porch and gazed at me with his violet eyes. Usually, when he was in his dragon form, it was hard to read emotion on his face, but his gaze seemed uncharacteristically glum today. A saying, and also reality. When a dragon believes he is dying, he will often disappear—fly off somewhere never to be seen again—to die in solitude rather than showing others his weaknesses. 

I almost said that was nuts, but then I remembered my ongoing reluctance to let anyone but my doctor and my therapist know that I’d been having health problems this last year. In my business, the last thing I wanted was for anyone to know I had an Achilles heel they could take advantage of. 

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.”

Chapter 2

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? 

“You would have heard it if I had.” I wasn’t even wearing my weapons. “He came in off the street. I think it’s a he.” 

“Yes.” Freysha crept forward warily and crouched beside him. “He is a gnome. An older gnome.” 

“He ran back here and collapsed.” Dimitri glanced toward the wooden gate leading into the yard. Left open, it thumped in the breeze. 

“I told you that you were burning the hot dogs,” Corporal Clarke told him. 

Dimitri frowned and waved his barbecue tongs. “What does that have to do with anything?” 

“Isn’t it obvious? When he ran back here, he was overcome by the smoke and passed out.” 

“Ha ha.” 

“Freysha, can you see if he’s, uh, alive?” I waved to the gnome. He had to be alive, right? “I’m guessing he overexerted himself and passed out. I’m going to get my weapons in case there’s trouble.” I glanced at Willard. “Someone was chasing him. At least he thought someone was.” 

“My gun is in the car.” Willard raised her eyebrows. “I didn’t think I’d need it to bring you herbs.” 

“Might want to get it.” 

I ran into the living room and grabbed my sword scabbard and pistol holster, the weapons they held recently cleaned and ready for action. As I turned to go back out, I sensed the enemies I’d expected since I saw the gnome. Two orcs. 

At least orcs were something I could handle, assuming there weren’t a lot more of them and they weren’t like those crazy tattooed orcs—Way Rovers—that Sindari and I had battled outside of Weber’s house. 

I considered going out front to face them, but I wanted to know more about the gnome, such as if he was still alive. It wouldn’t be worth getting in a fight to defend a dead guy. Also, if I stuck my cloaking charm in his hand, was it possible the orcs would lose his trail and continue past the house? 

When I got back outside, Freysha was rolling the gnome onto his back. For the first time, his hood fell away, revealing his wizened face and a bald pate save for wispy white hair around his ears. His face was scratched and bloody, as if he’d fallen several times on the sidewalk, and his eyes were closed. 

Nin gasped, her blue pigtails bobbing as she drew back. 

“What is it?” I hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to her yet today—the profit-and-loss statements discussion hadn’t driven me outside with an intense urgency to participate. 

She stared down at the gnome, her hand to her mouth. I didn’t know if she’d gasped because of his injuries or for another reason, but she was riveted. 

“Nin?” I moved to her side and rested a hand on her shoulder, even as I used my senses to monitor the orcs. There were four within my range now, damn it. At least they were advancing slowly, as if sniffing a trail. 

“This is my grandfather,” she whispered. 

My ears were more sensitive than average, and I heard her clearly, but that didn’t keep me from issuing a startled, “What?” 

“My grandfather.” 

“The grandfather you last saw in Thailand twenty years ago?” I’d heard the story before, of how he’d taught her to build and enchant weapons before he mysteriously disappeared, leaving Nin, her mother, her grandmother, and all her siblings to take care of themselves. 

She nodded. “He has barely aged. But he is hurt.” She stumbled forward and dropped to her knees opposite Freysha. “What is wrong with him? He ran in here. Why did he pass out?” 

Not having an answer to that, I removed my charm thong and unthreaded the cloaking charm. Even though the thought of putting it in the hand of a stranger and potentially losing it unnerved me, I crouched and wrapped the gnome’s calloused fingers around it. Fortunately, they were still warm and pliable enough to move. 

“I’m not sure it’ll activate without him willing it to,” I admitted. 

“I’ll see if I can get it to work.” Freysha nodded, understanding my intent. 

“My sword-fighting lessons aren’t usually this weird,” Amber whispered to Thad. 

They stood several steps back from the gathering, his hand protectively on her shoulder. 

“I thought you said they were always weird,” he murmured back. 

“No, I said Val was always weird.” 

“Oh, right.” 

I was about to shoot him a dirty look for his lack of defense, but the side gate banged. Cursing, I jumped to my feet, expecting an enemy even though the orcs were still a block away. The orcs I could sense. There could be others with camouflaging magic of their own. 

But it was Willard, back with a gun that had a magical signature. It was one Nin had made. 

Willard pulled up short and stared at the gnome. “Where’d he go?” 

“Camouflaged.” I was relieved Freysha had used her magic to get the cloaking charm to work for him. I was still close enough that I could see through it, regardless, but Willard had stopped several feet away. “There are four orcs coming this way,” I added. 

“We should go out front to confront them.” Willard looked at my unarmed group of houseguests, including Thad and Amber. “Clarke, did you bring a weapon?” 

“Just my guns, ma’am.” He was in a T-shirt, and his biceps popped when he flexed them. 

Judging by the eye roll and mutter of, “Lord save us,” Willard wasn’t impressed. She pointed at the group and raised her voice. “Everyone, stay back here.” She jerked her hand for me to follow her to the front yard. 

I held up a hand to Thad and Amber, wanting to emphasize that they should stay. Sindari had been sitting and eyeing the gnome, but he joined me now. 

I had feared there would be no battle to engage in today. 

I was hoping there wouldn’t be, especially since my daughter is here. 

You do not wish her to witness your martial prowess and the way we eviscerate our enemies? 

Not when there’s a chance she could be hurt. And I prefer shooting enemies to eviscerating them. 

That is not the way of fang and claw. 

Just don’t get blood all over your fur. That’ll seriously cut down on the number of people willing to pet you. 

Perhaps that would be an ideal way to keep away those with presumptuous hands. 

Dimitri isn’t going to pet a bloody tiger either. 

Hm. 

“I’m hoping they’ll think they lost him now that he’s cloaked,” I whispered. 

As I trailed Willard toward the gate, the gnome disappeared from my sight and my other senses. Seeing my charm work on someone else was odd. 

“We’ll hide and only attack if they turn this way,” Willard said. “And then only if they refuse to go away. We don’t have any way to know why they’re following him or what the gnome did.” 

After we exited through the gate, I shut it firmly behind us. “True, but I think we can assume it’s a good idea to protect Nin’s grandfather.” 

We crouched behind some of the bushes in front of the house. It was a tight fit and the foliage wasn’t as dense as I’d hoped. Now I wished Dimitri hadn’t trimmed them when we’d moved in. 

“The grandfather she hasn’t seen for twenty years?” Willard asked. “What if he’s a mafia leader who’s been stealing babies from orcs for decades?” 

“A gnome mafia leader? They’re tinkerers.” 

Sindari lowered into a crouch beside me. Since his magic would camouflage him, he didn’t try to fit behind the bushes. 

“I’m just pointing out that we don’t know his story and shouldn’t open fire wantonly,” Willard said. “You still sense four?” 

“Yeah.” 

“How far?” 

I lowered my voice even more. “Only a couple of houses down and still coming this way.” 

We fell silent to wait, but I winced when I heard voices from the back yard. Dimitri’s buddies. 

“Do you always let the women go out and do the fighting, bro?” one asked. 

“Whenever I can, yeah.” Dimitri didn’t sound that worried about slights to his masculinity. 

“I offered my guns, but they didn’t want them,” Clarke said. 

“I hear you have that problem a lot with women.” 

“Can you shut them up?” Willard muttered. 

“Not without shouting loudly enough for the orcs to hear,” I whispered. 

“I thought you were learning telepathy.” 

“Oh. Right.” 

I was used to only being able to talk to Sindari and Zav—and dragons who butted into my thoughts without permission. As the orcs crept into view, two on the sidewalk and two in the street, I envisioned Freysha’s face and focused on her aura as I asked her to quiet everyone up. 

The seven-foot-tall, broad-shouldered orcs wore cloaks with raised hoods—as far as I could tell, magical beings all shopped out of the same Fashions of Tolkien mail-order catalog—but the tips of their tusked snouts were visible. Unease crept into my gut as I sensed magical charms—or weapons—under their cloaks. Two of the orcs carried crossbows, and I thought I glimpsed the hilt of a sword sheathed at another’s waist. 

The orcs on the sidewalk spoke to each other in their native language, and I slowly lifted a hand to tap my translation charm. 

“…don’t sense him anymore.” 

“He’s here. I smell him.” 

“We’re screwed if we don’t find him and bring him back.” 

“Shh. I sense elf.” 

I grimaced, not sure if that meant me or Freysha—maybe both. 

Two orc snouts swiveled in my direction. That answered that question. 

I unfastened Fezzik from its holster, the weight of the submachine pistol comforting in my hand. Chopper was a more powerful weapon when it came to battling the magical, but I had to get close to use the sword. When I was outnumbered, I preferred to get a few free shots in from a distance. 

As I was about to stand—there was little point in continuing to hide in the bushes when they were staring right at me—Willard gripped my forearm. 

“Don’t start a fight if you don’t have to.” She’d seen me draw my gun. 

“I’m not planning to.” I walked out with Fezzik in hand. “This is how I negotiate.” 

“I guess that means I better be ready to cover you.” 

“Guess so.” 

All four orcs had gathered on the sidewalk to look at me. If they knew Willard was there, they ignored her. 

One orc’s nostrils flared, testing the air. “Another elf is behind the house.” 

“Deal with this one first,” one of his buddies said. “She is armed.” 

“I’m armed because this is my house, and you’re creeping up on it like a neighborhood gang. What do you want?” 

“What is she saying?” 

“I don’t know. It’s the vermin language of this crotch of a world.” 

Uh oh. These guys weren’t locals. Most of the orcs who’d taken refuge on Earth, those I typically dealt with, spoke enough English to get by. 

Sindari, are these more of those Way Rovers? 

I fear they may be. Two of them carry magical weapons. 

Can you communicate with them? 

I may be able to do so, but that would give away my presence at your side. 

Your presence may keep them from attacking. Despite my gun, they didn’t look that worried. Two had crept off the sidewalk and onto the lawn, nostrils still sniffing. 

Sindari roared, the tremendous noise rolling throughout the neighborhood. Distant walkers whirled to look back and then sprinted away. 

I was imagining you communicating with them telepathically. 

I am doing that now. I like to start a conversation with the power of thunder at the beginning of a summer storm. 

Half our houseguests probably flung themselves into the bushes. 

Do you wish me to tell them you’re the Ruin Bringer? Sindari asked. 

The orcs were frowning around the yard now, looking vaguely in the direction the roar had come from. 

I doubt that means anything to them if they’re not from around here. 

Don’t be too sure. The Dragon Justice Court knows all about you. 

Don’t remind me. 

And they told the elves. 

All four orcs roared—their roars weren’t as impressive as Sindari’s, but they conveyed suitable ferocity—and I expected them to rush at me. But they drew their weapons and paused as if waiting for something. Uh oh. What now? 

An orc with a crossbow lifted his gaze toward the roof of the house. At first, I thought he was trying to trick me into glancing away so he could shoot me when I wasn’t looking. Then a surge of magical power came from the rooftop. I’d felt something similar before when a portal had opened. 

A new enemy comes, Sindari warned me. 

Fantastic. 

He was crouched, ready to spring at the orcs, but he whirled to face me. No, not me. Whatever was coming out of that portal on the roof. 

Before I could figure out what new enemy was emerging, and if I needed to worry about everyone in the back yard, the orcs charged at me. 

One flicked his wrist, chucking something that had been hidden in his hand. I dove sideways and into a roll as a throwing star whizzed past and slammed into the siding of the house above Willard’s head. I opened fire before I finished my roll. Willard leaned out from behind the bush and shot at the orcs charging me. 

My bullets slammed into the chest of the lead orc, but dull tinks instead of fleshy thuds told me he was wearing armor. As he sprang for me, I fired at his unprotected face, then rolled out of the way again. My bullet slammed into his eye, and he tripped and tumbled to the grass. 

Willard’s bullets slammed into the neck of one of the other orcs, and he roared and fired a crossbow at her. I had enough time to rise into a crouch and shoot at the other two, but the air buzzed with magic as an invisible barrier appeared to protect them. My bullets hit it and bounced away. One ricocheted back and came within inches of striking me. It clanged into a drainpipe near the porch. 

Sindari had rushed to the other side of the yard and sprang to meet a shadow coming down from the roof. Not a shadow. A four-legged, scaly creature with a wolf’s face and fangs. It was as large as Sindari, and when it crashed into him, they tumbled across the yard in a tangle of flying fur and snapping jaws. They crashed into the bushes along the property line as they bit and clawed at each other, growls and yips sending chills down my spine. 

The two uninjured orcs drew swords and rushed toward me. I gave up on firing and pulled out Chopper. When the orcs tried to flank me and come in from both sides, I sprang away and skittered backward up the stairs to the high ground of the porch. 

A gasp of pain came from my left. Willard? She was still trading fire with the other orc, but I worried that first crossbow bolt had hit her. 

With my allies busy, I would have to take care of both orcs in front of me. I was prepared, blade ready and the railing of the porch steps providing some cover for my flanks, but then a tickle of power touched my mind. A magical compulsion urged me to drop my weapons and bare my neck to my enemies’ blades. 

“That’s not going to happen,” I growled as I deflected a barrage of sword blows from the closest orc. 

The second orc stood slightly back, his eyes intent as he stared at me. He had to be the magic user. 

Even as I relied on years of battle training to parry and block the closer orc, I focused my mind on the insidious mental attack. As Freysha had instructed, I imagined ferns growing up to wrap around my mind and protect me from compulsions. 

The magic-flinging orc scowled and produced another throwing star. Knowing I couldn’t deflect that and parry a sword at once, I switched from defensive to offensive against the one I faced. I flowed halfway down the stairs, trying to place myself so that he was in the way of the one with the throwing star. 

My opponent was momentarily surprised by my speed and aggression, and I spotted an opening as our blades crossed over his head. I twisted and slammed a side kick into his groin. 

The other orc chose that second to spin his throwing star at my face. I ducked as I retracted my kick, my other foot precariously close to the edge of the step. The throwing star almost took off my braid on its way to embed itself in the door. 

Gunfire from the side almost made me jump. It was Willard. Her orc was rolling on the lawn, grabbing his arm, and she was firing at the magic user. He’d been busy attacking me and didn’t have his defenses up. Bullets slammed into the side of his torso and one skimmed the top of his head—he ducked in time or it would have burrowed through his ear. 

I leaped down the stairs to press the sword fighter while his buddy was distracted. 

A canine squeal of pain came from the bushes. Sindari had come out on top, his teeth sinking into the neck of the scaled wolf. 

The orcs exchanged glances, then sprinted toward the side of the house. Even the injured one leaped up and raced after them. 

Terrified that they would run into the back yard and get hostages, I yanked out Fezzik again and fired after them. But they didn’t run into the side yard. They climbed up the trim at the corner of the house, somehow finding handholds to support their massive bodies, and made it to the rooftop even with Willard and me firing at them. 

Their magical defenses were back up and our bullets bounced off. They disappeared onto the rooftop where I could sense the portal still open. 

I ran out onto the lawn, hoping to get another chance at them, but as the silver portal floating behind my turret came into view, two of the orcs dove through it. One paused and glowered back down at me. 

“You harbor a fugitive,” he snarled in his own language, my charm still translating, “and we will be back with powerful allies to collect him. Then you will die horribly, mongrel bitch.” 

I fired at his forehead. Alas, the bullet bounced off. He gave me what was likely the orc equivalent of the middle finger and walked backward into the portal. He and it disappeared, leaving one orc dead in the yard and the beast pinned under Sindari. 

I’d thought it defeated, but with a great thrashing, it tore away from Sindari and rolled onto the lawn. Half of its throat had been ripped open, but it wasn’t dead yet. 

Willard and I opened fire, careful not to aim close to Sindari. Fortunately, the creature, despite having a strong magical aura, didn’t have any shields. Our bullets pierced its scaly hide and sank deep. It howled with pain. 

Sindari pounced, rolled it onto its back, and raked his claws into its belly, tearing out entrails. The creature twitched in its death throes, and I lowered my weapons, looking toward the roof where the portal had been. 

The orc’s threat rang in my mind, and I feared it was an honest one and that he would be back. With reinforcements.

Chapter 3

3      

In the aftermath of the fight, I wanted to rush back to check on Amber and Thad and everyone else—and see if Freysha had gotten the gnome to wake up—but what was I supposed to do with the bodies? The orc had died off to the side and behind a bush, but the scaly wolf creature lay in the middle of the front lawn. Any dog walker or couple with a stroller who passed by would see the eviscerated—thank you, Sindari—corpse and blood spattering the walkway leading up to my porch. 

“Is it dead?” Willard stepped up beside me, gore and grime on her T-shirt ensuring it would need the attention of a triple-powered, late-night-infomercial stain remover. 

“Yeah. You’ve got a van or something that picks up the bodies of magical creatures, don’t you?” 

“You know I do.” Willard pulled out her phone. “You’ve left enough of them behind for me to have picked up.” 

“Usually, I leave them behind on someone else’s lawn.” 

“I’m aware. Don’t think I’ve forgotten the dragon you left in the Sammamish River. We had to get a helicopter to airlift the corpse out.” 

While Willard called her contact, I kept watch, my sword still drawn. For the moment, the neighborhood was quiet, though from the lawn, I could see down the street and across to Green Lake where a vigorous soccer game was going on while people jogged on the paved path that followed the shoreline. I was surprised the fight hadn’t drawn attention, but the road construction had probably drowned out the gunshots. 

“Which van?” Willard had already given the person my address. “The big one, I guess.” She paused for a response. “I don’t know how much the beast corpse weighs. Or what it is even.” She looked at me. 

I’d never seen one before and couldn’t guess what species it was, so I offered, “It’s kind of like the scaly Klingon lizard-dogs.” 

Willard frowned at me. “The what?” 

“Klingon dog?” a male voice asked from her phone. “Original movies or Next Generation?” 

“Original movies,” I said, “and bigger. This thing is probably four hundred pounds. Almost as big as Sindari but not nearly as regal.” 

Certainly not. Sindari was in the process of washing blood off his foot and did not look up. 

“Got it,” the man said. “Thanks, Val.” 

Willard hung up. “You’re more of a geek than I realized.” 

“Someone with a Garfield mug collection doesn’t have room to talk.” Trusting the van would show up soon, I pulled tarps out from under the porch and covered up the bodies, then jogged toward the back yard to check on everyone. 

“Two mugs isn’t a collection,” Willard said, striding after me. 

“It is if you add in all the Flintstones and Smurfs mugs on the shelf with them.” My heart lurched when I found the back yard deserted except for Clarke and the other two guys. What were their names? Jeremy and Juan. “Where’s my kid? And the gnome? And everyone else?” 

“They took the gnome inside to put him on a bed,” Clarke said. 

“Whose bed?” I assumed Dimitri’s, since his room was on the ground floor, but when I ran through the kitchen—Thad and Amber were standing around the table, thankfully unharmed—and peeked inside, there were too many boxes of reclaimed junk for his projects for anyone to lie down. “How could anyone who was living in a van a week ago have accumulated so much?” 

Willard was following me, but she didn’t offer an opinion. Using my sense for the magical instead of common sense, I realized the gnome was on the second floor. So was Freysha. Why did it seem like they were in my room? 

“This place is big,” Willard said as we tramped up one of the two staircases in the house and past a library, a study, and two bedrooms before reaching the turret. “But badly in need of work. What are those stains on the carpet?” 

“Someone probably killed a Klingon dog.” 

Afternoon sunlight streamed through the tall windows in the rounded walls of my bedroom. My theoretical bedroom since the mold on this floor had been bothering me and I’d been sleeping downstairs on the couch when nobody was looking. I was even less inclined to sleep in here now that there was an injured gnome lying on the pillows and comforter. The king-size, four-poster canopy bed was huge, which brought attention to how small he was. 

Nin stood at the foot of the bed, nibbling on her knuckle. Freysha sat on the edge and held the gnome’s hand, though he was as unconscious as he had been before. 

“You have a giant poster bed?” Willard sounded amused. “That’s new, isn’t it? It’s bigger than your entire previous apartment.” 

“It came with the house. I doubt the previous renters could get it out.” 

Freysha gazed across at me. “I don’t think his injuries alone would explain why he’s unconscious. He does have a lot of wounds, new and old, but I also sense…” She groped at the air with her long delicate fingers. “I believe there is something unusual in his body, something unnatural.” 

“Uh.” I glanced at Willard, thinking of the something unnatural in her body that had nearly killed her a few months back. 

Judging by her grimace, it came to mind for her as well. 

But I’d sensed the magic that had been affecting her. Even when I stepped closer to the bed and examined the gnome with my senses, I couldn’t sense anything similar from him. 

“You’re sure?” I asked. 

“I do not sense magic but something foreign. Something that does not belong.” 

“Like a poison?” 

“That is… possible.” The wrinkle to Freysha’s upper lip suggested skepticism, but maybe she didn’t have a better word for it. “Unfortunately, I am not a healer. If we could take him to my world, I could easily find someone who could examine him. It is also possible one of your Earth doctors would be sufficient.” 

“Earth doctors don’t believe gnomes exist,” I said. 

“That may make treatment problematic.” 

“Is it possible to travel to your world, Freysha?” Nin asked. 

“Certainly, but I am not skilled in travel magic.” Freysha spread a hand. “Lord Zavryd could do it easily. I sensed him here earlier. Would he help?” 

“Probably, but he went home. He’s got some trouble of his own with his family.” 

“Anything we need to worry about?” Willard eyed me. She hadn’t been happy when I’d passed along Zav’s warning that Earth had come more fully on the Dragon Ruling Council’s radar of late and that it was possible some officious dragons would come to see our world leaders. 

“I don’t think so. Not this time. A relative of his has gone missing.” 

“There is nothing that can be done to help here?” Nin gripped one of the bed posts. “I have not seen my grandfather for twenty years. When he disappeared, we all thought he was dead, that some angry client had killed him or he had been a hapless victim to violence. He was not the kind of man to leave his family, especially after my deadbeat father walked out on my mother and all of us.” Nin shook her head. “I do not know where he has been or how he found me here at your house, but we must help him.” 

It hadn’t occurred to me that the gnome had been specifically seeking out Nin, but I realized he must have been. Chance wouldn’t have brought him to my doorstep—or my back patio, rather. 

“Maybe Zoltan can do something once he wakes up.” I squinted at the afternoon sun, realizing it would still be several hours before our basement roommate stirred. 

“He has medical training?” Freysha asked. 

“Just the alchemy, as far as I know, but he researches a lot of stuff. Maybe he’s got a potion that would work.” 

“I believe he would need a diagnosis to prescribe a formula. A healer would be ideal. Is there anyone here who treats those in the magical community?” Freysha frowned thoughtfully at the window. “I suppose I could ask Gondo if he knows of any goblin shamans. They mostly heal their own kind, but…” 

Willard sighed dramatically—which was startling because drama wasn’t her thing. “I have someone I can ask to come take a look.” 

She dug out her phone, her mouth twisting in displeasure. 

“An ally or an enemy?” I asked. 

“Both.” 

“Really? Do I need to stand on my lawn with my gun again when he or she arrives?” 

“It’s a he, and he’s some kind of cat shifter with the arrogance of a dragon, even though he’s lived on Earth his whole life, as far as I know, and has no right to be as cocky as he is.” 

“I’m not sure if that answered my gun question.” 

“He’s not an enemy, just vexing.” Whoever he was, Willard had his number programmed into her phone. “He probably won’t even come. He’s extremely sought after, or so he tells me. Whenever he comes to the office, he reminds me how much more he makes in private practice than by helping the government.” 

“Such vitriol. This sounds more like an ex-boyfriend than an army contractor.” 

“I’d gnaw my foot off before dating him.” 

Her vehement denial made me want to probe further, but Nin was watching with pinched lips, and I reminded myself that she knew the stranger passed out on my bed. 

“What’s his specialty?” I asked as Willard’s call dropped to voice mail. 

She hung up and tried again. “Reconstructive surgery.” 

“You’re calling a plastic surgeon to come help a mysteriously injured gnome?” 

“That’s his current practice and how he makes his money, but he was in the army and can do just about anything. He started out operating as a GP specializing in magical beings, but the goblins, trolls, and orcs all wanted to pay him in chickens and daggers and stolen loot from muggings. He switched tracks, and now he fixes people’s faces if they get burned or mangled in a car accident. He also helps non-humans blend in if they want. He turned a teenage orc girl into someone who could fit into your daughter’s school and get hit on by football players.” 

“You’re sure that was a service?” 

“Apparently.” 

“Colonel Willard,” a smooth male voice answered—it was quiet enough in the bedroom that I had no trouble hearing it, “you’ve called three times and refuse to leave a voice mail. You must be breathless with need for me.” 

“Yeah, my female bits are aching.” Willard ignored my eyebrows flying up. “Also, I have an unconscious gnome that’s been poisoned and attacked by orcs. Can you come take a look?” 

“It’s Saturday.” 

“So you’re not busy? Good.” 

He snorted. “Never too busy for you, Colonel. You’re at the office?” 

“No.” Willard shared my address for the second time in ten minutes. 

I doubted my new home was going to remain a mystery to the magical community for long. I hoped this shifter could be trusted. He sounded smarmy. 

When she hung up, I asked, “Am I supposed to find some chickens to pay him?” 

“No.” Her mouth twisted in distaste again. “He insists on cash and charges even more exorbitant fees than you do for his consulting time.” 

“I didn’t know charging more was an option.” 

“Don’t get any ideas. It’s not.” 

“But this doctor gets away with it?” 

“He has multiple advanced degrees.” 

“So, if I start taking correspondence courses, I can raise my rates?” 

“No.” Willard glared at me and strode out. 

I didn’t know if she was truly irked with me or just annoyed that she’d had to ask this guy she didn’t like for a favor, but she didn’t look back as she stomped down the stairs. 

“I will pay for the doctor,” Nin said gravely when we were alone with the unconscious gnome. 

“You don’t have to do that. As you could tell, Willard is delighted to work with him, and her office will be happy to foot the bill.” 

Nin looked dubiously toward the open door. “I do not believe you are good at reading people.” 

“Why do you think I became an assassin instead of going into the hospitality business?” 

In her sweet precise English, Nin asked, “You like to blow shit up?” 

“Well, that too, but mostly I suck at dealing with people. It’s why Dimitri hasn’t asked me to take a shift at the coffee shop.” I smiled at her. 

Nin managed a fleeting smile, but her focus returned to the gnome. “For so many years, I have believed he was dead. That is what my mother and grandmother believed and told us children. I loved him very much as a little girl and was so pleased to learn the interesting skills he taught me. I also wanted to tinker and build things, not play with dolls. I only reluctantly learned to cook because my mother insisted that we girls learn skills to properly please a man.” 

“And cooking works? I suppose that’s true. Zav is into it when I feed him.” I was trying to lighten her mood, but she didn’t crack another smile. Maybe I needed to let her talk about it, not make jokes. Nin was right. I was bad at people. “What’s his name?” 

“Ti.” 

“Ti? That’s it? He can’t possibly have a name that I can pronounce.” 

“It is possible he has a longer name and that it is short for something in gnomish, but I do not know what it is. I was only ten when he disappeared. He told me a little of his home world and how he had been looking for interesting crafting components on the wild worlds when he met my grandmother and fell in love with her and her country, but I do not remember that many of the stories. It has been many years now.” 

“Yeah.” 

A soft knock on the doorframe made me turn. Thad stood there. 

“Oh, I’m sorry.” I’d forgotten about Amber and our sword lesson, not that there hadn’t been a good excuse to. 

“I need to get back to my office for a meeting,” he said. 

“On Saturday?” 

“Don’t you work on Saturdays?” 

“Yeah, but I’m weird.” 

“As Amber reminds me.” He smiled, but as with Nin, it was a fleeting gesture. “I’m going to take Amber home. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t think sword lessons at your house are a good idea.” 

I grimaced, but how could I object after he’d been here to witness a gunfight in the front yard? The orc’s parting words rang in my mind again. 

“An hour ago, I would have said you were wrong, but I’m forced to agree. If everything works out okay here—” I waved to the gnome—to Ti, “—maybe we can try again tomorrow afternoon, back up at the park in Edmonds.” 

“How about one evening this week?” Thad asked. “Tomorrow, we’re back-to-school shopping. That usually takes eight or nine hours.” 

“So few.” 

“Yes. She offered to let me stay home if I just gave her a credit card.” His mouth twisted wryly. 

“Teenagers are extremely thoughtful.” 

“I thought I better go along and pretend I have some say in placing spending limits and yeaing and naying purchases.” 

“She tried to get me to buy her a Prada purse. Apparently, that brand is superior for clubbing enemies.” 

“I have no doubt. How about Wednesday evening?” 

“That should work.” I was relieved he wouldn’t put an end to the sword-fighting lessons permanently after witnessing a deadly battle at my house. They were my only chance to see Amber regularly. 

“Are you all right?” Thad asked softly, touching Nin’s arm. 

They must have had time to introduce themselves to each other and exchange a few words while Willard and I had been fighting. 

“Yes.” Nin smiled at him. “Thank you for offering to stand in front of me if the enemies made it into the back yard.” 

“You looked small and fragile. That was before you pulled out a miniature magical gun.” 

“It was only a pistol ring. Val did not inform me that I needed to come well-armed to her barbecue.” 

“I’m getting the feeling anyone who visits her should be well-armed.” 

“You guys are hilarious,” I said. 

“This does seem to be true,” Nin said, ignoring me. “Next time I come to Val’s home for a barbecue, I will bring semi-automatic weapons.” 

“I’ll bring spoiled potato salad,” Thad said. 

Nin’s brow creased in confusion. 

“So the bad guys eat it and get food poisoning,” he explained, then shrugged. “I’m not much of a combatant.” 

“Oh, I see.” 

I rubbed my head. Thad hadn’t gotten any smoother with women over the years. It was a wonder that he’d managed to snag a girlfriend, though from what I’d seen of Shauna, it might have been better if he hadn’t snagged her. 

It had grown quiet outside after our battle, and my keen ears picked up the rumble of a vehicle pulling up in front of the house. Expecting Willard’s monster-disposal van, I went to the window in case they couldn’t figure out that the bodies were under the tarps. But it wasn’t a van. A gleaming fire-engine red SUV pulled into a spot that had opened up between Willard’s Honda and my Jeep. It had a similarly boxy frame to my Jeep, but the Mercedes emblem on the grill promised the similarities ended there. 

“Is that Banderas?” Willard walked back into the room to join me at the window. 

“Not unless the government is paying a lot more for corpse-pick-up vehicles than I thought.” 

Willard curled her lip when she saw the SUV. “That’s our doctor. In his outrageously priced box on wheels.” 

“I didn’t know Mercedes makes SUVS,” I admitted. 

Thad walked over. “Oh, that’s the AMG G 63. They’re posh.” 

“It looks like a red toaster oven,” Willard said. 

“The seats are heated and have a massage function,” Thad said. 

“If the front window flipped down, you could slide a Hot Pocket right in.” 

“Colonel Willard is impressed by ostentatious displays of wealth,” I informed Thad. 

“I see that.” He didn’t look offended, maybe because his BMW was only half the price of that thing. 

“I’ll go get him,” Willard growled and stomped out again. 

“I think they may have dated,” I whispered to Thad. 

“And it didn’t end well?” 

“I don’t know, but I hope to tease her mercilessly about it.”

Chapter 4

4      

Dr. Daku Walker wore an impeccable navy-blue suit, blue tie, and dress shoes, despite the warmth of the late-August afternoon. He was a handsome man in his forties with skin dark enough that he ought to meet Willard’s previously expressed tastes, though maybe the thick mane of red-blond hair threw her off. I assumed that was natural—a byproduct of his lion-shifter heritage—and didn’t represent a dye job, though his trimmed nails and perfect cuticles suggested a passion for salons, so it was hard to tell. 

When Willard had said he’d been in the army, I’d assumed the US Army, but he spoke with an Australian accent, so maybe that was wrong. While examining the still unconscious Ti, Walker mixed terms like “Buckley’s chance” and “a few stubbies short of a six-pack” with “liver sinusoidal endothelial cells” and “tissue macrophages,” none of which I found comprehensible, though the latter was part of an explanation about Ti’s liver and detoxification pathways being overwhelmed. 

“How can you tell that without a blood test?” Willard asked. 

“I’m gifted.” 

“Please.” 

“And have highly refined magical senses to go with my medical knowledge. I can see with my mind’s eye what mundane humans would need a microscope to glimpse. But I don’t know what is overwhelming his liver, nor can I tell if his unconscious state is due to hepatic encephalopathy—a buildup of toxins in the brain—or is magically induced.” 

“When I examined him with my senses,” Freysha said, “I thought I detected a hint of something foreign in his bloodstream.” 

Walker’s brow creased. “Did you?” 

“Are her magical senses more highly refined than yours?” Willard asked. 

“It is possible. Elves are sensitive and sophisticated magic users.” 

“And here I thought he’d deny anyone could be more refined than he,” Willard told me. 

“With your permission, ma’am—” Walker raised his eyebrows toward Nin, “—I’ll take some blood samples and have my lab run them on Monday.” 

“Of course,” Nin said. 

“Not until Monday?” Willard frowned. 

Walker glanced at a gold-and-crystal watch on his wrist. “They’re already closed for the day today, and another lab won’t do. My people can check for evidence of magical tampering as well as mundane problems.” He smiled at her, flashing white teeth. It was only in my imagination that his fangs were more pronounced than a normal human’s would be. 

“Your laboratory in the plastic-surgery clinic where you work?” Willard asked. 

“It’s restorative surgery, and we have several kinds of practices in the building, including a lab with a half-gnome analyst who is precisely the right person to run this.” 

Willard’s lips thinned, but she didn’t object further. 

“Now, if you’ll allow me to work—” Walker patted the medical kit he’d brought along, “—I’ll suture his wounds and set up an IV to hydrate him and give him some nutrients that may help his liver.” 

“You can do that in someone’s house?” I asked. 

“I can. As you pointed out, a gnome arriving in a hospital would flummox the staff. And I find it unlikely he has a health insurance card.” Walker opened his kit. “If I’m not able to rouse him, I may have to insert a catheter as well.” 

“Uh.” I raised a finger. “Could we take him to a guest bedroom before messing with his bladder?” 

“Who’s going to monitor that stuff?” Willard asked. “Thorvald’s about as likely a nurse as a sasquatch.” 

“Hey, I completed the combat-lifesaver course in the army.” 

“Were catheters covered?” 

“Not… explicitly.” 

“Have no fear, Colonel,” Walker said. “I can send someone over to help with nurse duties this weekend, and I’m capable of turning this into a first-rate care facility.” 

“I’ll show you to the bedroom you can use for that.” I pointed out a guest room, then went outside to get some fresh air. 

Dimitri’s barbecue guests had left, only a sad platter of charred hot dogs and cold burgers evidence of his attempt at an afternoon shindig. He’d switched to poking into the various raised planters around the back yard, digging out weeds and putting in fresh bark. I remembered he’d worked for a landscaper back in Oregon, something that had paid the bills better than his yard-art-creation hobby. 

“How are Nin and her grandfather?” Dimitri asked when he saw me. 

“She’s worried. I hope they get Ti to wake up, because I’m sure she has questions for him. I have questions for him. Like how did he know to find her at our new house? And did he know he was leading a passel of trouble to us?” 

Dimitri’s phone rang. “It’s the shop. I hope Tam doesn’t need me to come in. This is the only day I’ve taken off all week.” 

I spotted Freysha walking out to the conservatory and left him to talk to his barista. 

“Hey,” I said, joining her inside. “I kept an orc from compelling me to bare my neck to his sword. The lessons are paying off.” 

“That’s excellent.” Freysha didn’t head to her growing plant collection, as I’d expected. Instead, she pulled out the box of LEGOs that Willard had given her and started setting up piles on the brick floor. 

“New project?” 

“Gondo and Tari are coming over for a block-construction contest. Also, to look over my homework for my engineering class.” 

“Are you sure you want input from goblins? They’ll probably suggest you add more repurposed auto parts and road signs to whatever it is you’re designing for your homework.” 

“A sewage-treatment plant.” 

“Carburetors add flair to those, I hear.” 

“Val?” came Nin’s voice from the kitchen. “Freysha?” 

“Out here,” I called. 

“The doctor found something in my grandfather’s pants.” Nin ran out with a folded paper clenched in her hand, her expression extremely earnest, so I resisted the urge to make jokes about what men—and presumably male gnomes—kept in their pants. “But he cannot read it.” 

Nin stopped in front of us and unfolded the paper. No, that looked like parchment. She held it up toward us, and I gaped at a portrait drawn in black ink. 

“Is that a picture of me?” 

“It looks very much like you.” Nin pointed to two columns of symbols below the portrait along with another small drawing. It was of a sword that looked a lot like Chopper. 

“That’s the most predominant of the three dwarven languages.” Freysha held out her hand for the parchment. 

“Dwarven?” I asked. “Not gnomish?” 

How many races were mixed up with Nin’s grandfather? 

“Dwarven, yes.” 

“Can you read it?” I scratched my head. 

Did this mean Nin’s grandfather had come looking for me? Not Nin? 

“Yes, I believe so.” Freysha laid the parchment on one of the potting benches and scrutinized it. 

Behind her, Nin paced. 

“Val,” Freysha said, “have you ever met a dwarf named Belohk?” 

“Uh, yes. A few months ago. He was chained up and being forced to make magical ammunition for some shifters up in Bothell.” 

“He signed this.” Freysha pointed to four symbols at the bottom of the parchment. “He may have written the whole page.” 

“And the page says what?” 

“It speaks of a mighty half-elven warrior who fearlessly battles dragons and carries what he believes is one of the original Dragon Blades from more than ten thousand years ago.” Freysha glanced over my shoulder, though I’d removed Chopper’s scabbard after the battle. She realized that and turned her gaze toward the open kitchen door. Her eyes grew unfocused, as if she was using her senses to study the sword for the first time. “I do not know enough about dwarven workmanship to know if that’s true. It is a powerful sword and certainly made with superb workmanship.” 

“So I’ve heard. But why was this guy writing about me? This isn’t a bounty poster or something like that, is it?” I’d thought I’d parted on good terms with old Belohk. 

Freysha ran her hand along the ragged top edge of the parchment. “I believe this was torn from a workbook. It looks much more like a diary entry or a letter than a mass-produced document. There is no mention of a reward or bounty.” 

Dimitri walked in, sticking his phone in his pocket. “I need to go to the shop. Trolls got in a fight and broke more of Zoltan’s tinctures. I’m going to have to build some kind of troll-proof display case. I’m envisioning poured cement and transparent aluminum.” 

I lifted a hand to acknowledge the Star Trek reference but was too distracted by this new development to look away from the parchment. 

Dimitri followed our gazes to it. “Everything okay here?” 

“Dwarves in other realms are writing about me in their diaries,” I said. 

“Did that answer my question?” 

“I don’t know. Freysha, what else does it say?” 

“It reemphasizes that you’ve got one of the ancient Dragon Blades and that you’re a great warrior who has slain dragons with it.” 

“That isn’t something I want getting out. So far, every dragon I’ve met has taken exception to that, and it’s only the fact that Zav claimed me and told his people he’ll be responsible for my further actions that I haven’t been shackled by the Dragon Justice Court for years of punishment and rehabilitation.” 

“I was going to ask if you wanted to help me clean up the shop while I build the display cases,” Dimitri said, “but I see you have problems of your own to deal with.” 

“No kidding. I’ll help you with the display cases later if you help me tear out the walls in the bathrooms upstairs, dry out the framing, and repair the leaks.” 

Dimitri looked puzzled. “I said I would. I didn’t realize it was that urgent of a project.” 

Only if I wanted to be able to sleep in my bedroom without crazy nightmares and my inhaler clenched in my hand. I didn’t say that out loud. I hadn’t told Dimitri about my weak lungs or susceptibility to mold, and I was hesitant to bring it up now. Or ever. Even if these people were my friends, I didn’t want to admit to my weaknesses. Wasn’t that why I was seeing a therapist? I’d complain to her at my next appointment. 

“Freysha,” I said, “any idea how Nin’s grandfather—her gnomish grandfather—got ahold of a dwarf’s diary entry?” 

“No. The only person who knows is unconscious in your house.” Freysha looked contemplatively at me. 

“I do not understand,” Nin said. “Why would my grandfather be interested in Val? Does he want her sword? He is not a warrior, and he knows how to craft magical weapons of his own.” 

“Maybe he wants Val,” Dimitri said. 

“I’m kind of tall for him, don’t you think?” I smiled, but nobody else did. 

Freysha folded the parchment back up and returned it to Nin. “I believe the only way to get answers is to figure out how to wake him up so you can ask.” 

“Or wait for some more orcs to come attack me and ask them.” That wasn’t the option I would prefer. 

“Let’s hope the doctor figures out how to heal and rouse him,” Freysha said. 

After Dimitri left, I guided Nin out of the conservatory. She drew the parchment out to look at it again. 

“Are you okay?” I asked. “I’m sure the doctor will figure something out. If not today, then when his lab analyzes the blood sample.” 

“Yes. I will be fine. I am just…” Nin lowered the parchment. “Is it wrong of me to have hurt feelings because my grandfather came to Seattle to see you instead of me?” She waved her hand in front of her heart. “I feel upset. It is childish and not important right now, but… it is my feeling.” 

“It’s not wrong to have feelings, but maybe we should get his story before we judge him.” 

“I do not wish to judge him. I am merely admitting to feeling hurt.” 

“Let’s get his story before you feel hurt.” I patted her on the shoulder. 

“I wish he were awake now. I so badly want to talk to him.” 

I wished I could help her more. 

Willard walked out of the house and joined us on the patio. “Walker has done everything he can for now and said he’d drop the blood off at his lab and send a nurse to help. I’m heading home.” 

“Wait.” I lifted a hand, realizing we had access to another lab that might be as viable as Walker’s. And that could run the sample tonight. “Can he get another vial of blood before he goes? For our vampire in the basement?” 

“I don’t think Nin wants Zoltan to drink her grandfather’s blood.” 

Horror flashed in Nin’s eyes. 

I shook my head. “Zoltan has a bunch of alchemy equipment he brought when he moved in. I bet he can analyze blood and find magical substances too.” 

“Ah. I’ll catch Walker before he goes and ask.” Willard jogged back inside. 

I called Zoltan on my phone. The sun was a few hours from setting, so I didn’t know if he would be awake. Dimitri’s first home-improvement project had been, per Zoltan’s request, completely blocking in the basement windows so his lair was pitch dark around the clock. Providing nobody was rude and opened the door. 

Dear robber, a text came in. Why are you calling me during the middle of my night? 

Though a phone conversation would have been quicker, I texted back, I have some blood for you. 

He replied before I could send a second message more fully explaining. 

You’re offering some of your fine half-elven blood that is enhanced by the magical mark of a dragon? I accept. I will even allow you to enter my abode during the day so that I might enjoy this feast. 

Gross. I need you to analyze some gnome blood for a magical poison or spell or something that we believe is afflicting him. 

I would prefer your blood. It would not be beneficial to my health to consume tainted blood. 

Nin will be relieved to know you’re not going to lick the vial. This gnome is her grandfather, and he’s very sick. We need your help. 

I will be glad to help. At my usual hourly consulting fee. 

“Zav is right. Earthlings are overly concerned with money.” Fine, I texted him back. 

“America is a capitalist society,” Nin informed me. “But the opportunities are many. Soon, I will have enough money to buy a house and bring my family to this country.” 

“You think so, but that’s only because you haven’t yet seen what Zoltan charges for his help.”

Chapter 5

5      

I had an appointment with my therapist the first thing in the morning, so I left the house before any news came up from the basement about Zoltan’s blood analysis. A part of me had wanted to reschedule on Mary, since Nin’s grandfather was still passed out in the guest bedroom, and now a nurse I didn’t know was wandering around the house, but I’d already rescheduled on her three times this month. She’d gone out of her way to come in and meet with me on a Sunday, so I couldn’t cancel again. 

Nin was at the house. She would keep an eye on things. The evening before, she’d only left long enough to go home and pack an overnight bag. This was the longest she’d been away from her business since I’d known her—she usually thought nothing about working seven days a week and being there from opening to closing—but this was an extenuating circumstance. 

The scent of brewing coffee filled the air as I walked into the marble-floored waiting area. 

“Good morning, Val.” Mary lifted an empty mug from the beverage station. “Coffee?” 

“No, thanks.” Coffee always smelled better than it tasted, so I was happy to give the burbling pot a wide berth and head straight to her office. 

Since Mary was the only therapist working this morning, I didn’t have to pass any weirdos waiting for appointments. An inordinate number of clients at the clinic liked to pace and mutter to themselves, occasionally while straightening magazines or chanting rap lyrics. Mary kept promising me that plenty of normal people came in to see therapists, but she lumped me into that category too, so I knew not to believe her. 

I sat in my usual chair, the back to the wall and arranged so I could see her desk, the window, and the door. As I preferred it. 

Coffee in hand, Mary came in and sat down. “How’s your weekend going so far?” 

“A portal opened on my roof, I battled a bunch of orcs, my tiger eviscerated a monster creature on the lawn, and I found out I’m now infamous in other realms.” 

“If someone else said that to me, I’d think it was an odd joke.” 

“But it’s me, so you know it’s only odd.” 

“Yes. Do you want to talk about it?” Mary set down her coffee and pulled a pad of paper into her lap. 

“I don’t know. I’m still processing the situation.” 

Technically, Zoltan was processing the situation—while tallying up hours to bill me. 

“Aside from portals and battles, how have your relaxation exercises been going?” 

“Not well.” 

She didn’t frown at me, but I felt like she was oozing disappointment. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to try to relax and lower my stress levels and hopefully find a way to get off the damn asthma medication I now took morning and night. It was that my life wasn’t cooperating. And the new house… 

“I’m not sure I should have moved,” I admitted. 

“Oh? When you described moving into a house with other people, I thought it sounded very promising. You need company, people who care about you and who you can talk with when you need to. I’m here for you, of course, but it’s important to have a supportive community around you.” 

“Did I mention that one of my new roommates was a vampire?” 

Her brow furrowed. “No.” 

“Ah. Actually, I’m not having problems with my, uh, community. It’s that the house is old and musty, and it’s been bothering my lungs.” And my sleep. I’d had hours of nightmares the previous night and woken up sweating and disorientated several times. I doubted I had managed to string together two hours of solid sleep. 

“Did you speak with your doctor?” 

“Yeah, he said not to live in a moldy house.” 

Mary gazed blandly at me. 

“I bought drywall and a sledgehammer and crowbar. I’m going to start watching HGTV and figure out how to fix it all. In my copious free time.” 

“Perhaps your roommates could help.” 

“They will. Or at least one of them will. Dimitri already agreed. From what I’ve observed, Zoltan isn’t into physical labor. He can hurl cybernetically enhanced bears across a laboratory if he’s threatened, but if you ask him to help move furniture, he’s always in the middle of an experiment and can’t leave it.” 

“Perhaps you can focus on the more helpful roommates.” 

“Oh, I do.” 

“Have you seen Amber lately?” 

“I have. I’m giving her sword-fighting lessons.” 

Mary’s eyebrows rose. 

“Is that not a typical mother-daughter bonding thing? We also shopped, but that was extremely expensive, and now I’m stuck with dresses I don’t need.” 

Mary took a few notes. I wondered if she’d liked it more when I hadn’t opened up to her about my life. 

“Are you still seeing Mr. Zavryd?” She insisted on calling him by name, not the dragon. Or your incredibly bizarre boyfriend who claimed you as a mate but hasn’t actually had sex with you. I appreciated that. 

“Yes.” 

“You said he has magical powers?” 

“Incredible magical powers.” 

“Perhaps he could assist you with your mold problem.” 

“I don’t think dragons mind mold. They sleep in caves. Occasionally on the roof.” Admittedly, Zav hadn’t tried that since I moved into the Victorian house. There were a lot of slanted and pointy bits up there. 

“But you mind it. Have you told him?” 

“We don’t discuss my vulnerabilities.” 

“No? Who do you discuss them with?” 

“You.” 

“I appreciate that you trust me.” 

“It’s more that I’m pretty sure you’d get your license revoked if you gossiped about me to my enemies.” 

“Do you believe Mr. Zavryd would do that?” 

“No.” I leaned back in the chair. What was she angling for? “But he’s a super powerful dragon, and he thinks I’m a mighty warrior who vexes his enemies.” 

“Aren’t you?” 

“I’m excellent at vexing. As for the rest, I have my moments. But look, I’m already this half-human mongrel, as he called me so often early on. It took me a while to climb up to a respectable status in his eyes. I don’t want to admit that I have this… what’s becoming this chronic weakness.” I grimaced, hating to admit that it might be chronic. That seemed to imply forever. That I wouldn’t find a solution. So far, I hadn’t wanted to accept that, but at the same time, I hadn’t managed to do many of the things that could help my body relax and maybe stop being so reactive to everything. 

I dropped my face in my hand. 

“If you were one of my less bristly clients, I would ask if you wanted a hug,” Mary said, “but I’m a little afraid you would punch me.” 

“Only if you didn’t warn me first.” I lowered my hand. “I’m just having a moment. Is that what it’s called?” 

“We can call it whatever you wish. I will say that I haven’t seen any relationships succeed where either partner withheld crucial personal information from the other.” 

“Are you sure? Because I’m positive I’ve heard stories of guys with three wives in different states who didn’t know the others existed.” 

“I wouldn’t call any of those successful relationships.” 

“You’ve got high standards.” My phone buzzed, and I pulled it out. 

A text from Zoltan read: It is well past the hour that I go to sleep, but I believe I’ve found what is ailing your gnome. A bacterial infection that may have been created in a laboratory employing both science and magic. I have isolated the bacteria in a Petri dish and found a couple of chemicals that can kill them, but they are extremely toxic to gnomes, humans, and similar beings. I have researched natural substances that are less deadly and could hypothetically do the job, and I’ve selected a recipe for a promising formula. However, I may need you to acquire the core ingredient. Do return before I slip into the cozy confines of my coffin for a well-deserved sleep, or you’ll have to wait until tonight to speak with me. 

I thought about pointing out that I knew where his coffin was and that I could knock on it anytime, but it sounded like he had a solid lead, so I refrained from snark and texted: Thank you. I’ll head back to the house soon. Tell Nin. 

“I have to go.” I put my phone away. “My friend’s grandfather is in trouble, and I need to help her.” 

Mary had used my distraction to fill in several lines on her notepad. “Of course. Will you do me a favor?” 

“Pay my bill?” 

She smiled. “You always do that. In cash.” 

“You say that like it’s unorthodox and weird.” 

“We usually bill people’s insurance, but we’re happy to take payment however is convenient. A favor?” 

“What?” I couldn’t keep the wariness out of my voice. 

Mary wasn’t going to ask me to go to that float-tank place again, was she? I’d looked into it. Some people might find floating in a dark coffin of warm water appealing—Zoltan, perhaps—but there was no way I was getting naked in some commercial establishment and climbing into an enclosed box with my weapons on the outside. 

“If you trust him and feel comfortable enough to do so, please consider telling Mr. Zavryd about your health problems and discussing your fears with him. Your relationship will be stronger if it’s based on honesty and disclosure.” 

My shoulders slumped. It wasn’t that she was wrong; it was just that we hadn’t even had sex yet and I didn’t know for sure that we would have a lasting relationship. Peeling back all my armor and sharing my fears, insecurities, and weaknesses with him would make me feel so vulnerable. I hated being vulnerable. 

“I’ll think about it,” I said, more because Mary wanted to hear it than because I thought I would do it. 

“Good. I hope you’re able to help your friend.” 

“Me too.”

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