Dragon Storm, Page 3
Katie MacAlister
“Er…” Constantine cleared his throat. Although he wouldn’t put it past Asmodeus to keep the head of his latest victim as some sort of a grisly prize, he hadn’t expected it would be so… chipper. And friendly. Not to mention animated. “Hello. Are you… forgive me, but I was not expecting to find anyone in here. Is there just your… head? Nothing more?”
“Nopers, just a head. Used to have a body, but one day I was sitting by a creek doing a little fishing, and suddenly my pole jerked. I thought I must have caught a whopper of a catfish, and was playing him out when whoosh! Up rose a leviathan that chomped me right in two. Talk about inconvenient!”
“I can imagine so.” Constantine glanced around, but there didn’t seem to be anyone else in the room. It had to be the head talking to him, not to mention the fact that it was looking at him with bright gray eyes, and a smile on its lips. “Most people die when they are consumed in such a manner.”
“I know, right? Luckily, I’m not mortal. I’m a knocker, see?” The head rolled over to the side of the cage and rapped its forehead against it a couple of times.
“Do you mean like a door knocker?”
“No, no, knockers are best known as being spirits that live in mines, and warn the miners when a collapse is imminent. We knock on the walls to warn them. Knockers. Get it?”
“Ah, just so.”
“Nowadays,” Gary continued sociably, “we tend to watch over industrial outfits, and let the locals know when their safety is being compromised. Most of us work in some form of environmental regulatory agencies, you see. So when a local power plant is about to explode, or a dam burst, or fracking is creating sinkholes, we warn people about the damage before it happens. Of course, most of the mortals don’t pay us any attention, but eh.” Constantine imagined that if the head could shrug, he would do so now. “We do what we can.”
“I can’t imagine why a demon lord would be interested in that unless he was causing the damage.”
“Well, that’s an interesting story on its own. When the leviathan started gobbling me down, I knew I’d be okay so long as there was one part of me it didn’t get. And luckily, he was the precursor to a horde of demons coming out of a portal at the bottom of the creek. One of them picked up me up as a tribute to his master, and that’s all she wrote.” Gary leaned back against the bars, a contemplative look on his face. “It’s not a bad life, really. Asmodeus is a big ole grumpy-pants, but he mostly leaves me alone. I get fed—although Asmodeus doesn’t understand why I need feeding since I don’t have a body, but a head can’t survive on nothing, you know—and there are plenty of demons to talk to. They tend to be a bit shouty and a bunch of Negative Nellies, but there you go. It’s Abaddon, after all. So who are you? You’re not a demon, are you?”
“I am a dragon,” Constantine said, squaring his shoulders. “I am Constantine, wyvern of the silver dragons.”
“Coolio! I’ve never seen a dragon before. Although the way you kind of shimmered into being gave me the impression you were some other sort of being. You know, like poltergeist, or one of those creepy Japanese ghosts with black eyes and long, streaming hair that suddenly appear out of nowhere.” Gary blinked for a moment, then did a little head bobble. “Oh, wait, that’s from a movie, isn’t it? Sometimes I get creepy beings mixed up. What’s a dragon doing in Abaddon?”
“Looking for something.” Deciding that the head posed no immediate threat to either him or his mission, Constantine turned to scan the room. The likeliest offering was a large onyx bowl sitting on top of a narrow bookcase that was inexplicably filled with bones.
“Oooh, is it a scavenger hunt? I love scavenger hunts! We used to have the best ones at the Knockers Local Forty-two annual parties. We’d have to go hunting for days for this item and that, really obscure stuff, you know? Graphite moderators, and core cooling pumps, and oh yes, there was that time in the Ukraine where we had a party that lasted a week, a whole week. My team was close to winning the scavenger hunt—all I needed was a separator drum—and wouldn’t you know it, the whole thing exploded.” Gary gave a little shake of his head. “That was one hell of a party until it got out of hand. What items are you supposed to find?”
“A talisman of some sort.” The words slipped out before Constantine thought better of it, but after a few seconds’ thought, he decided that it most likely would not be a problem if a disembodied head knew what he was after. “Something personal.”
“Gotcha. Something personal. Hmm.” Gary squinted, and looked around the room while Constantine examined the contents of the large bowl. It held a collection ranging from engraved idols to figurines bearing ominous rust-colored stains, to several sharp scalpels. The last were also stained, a fact that had Constantine hurriedly moving past the bowl.
“I know! I have just the thing!” Gary rolled over to the other side of the cage and pointed his nose toward a small tufted footstool. “See that? If you lift the lid, there’s a small wooden chest inside. I saw one of the demons snooping around in there one day when he thought I was napping.”
Constantine set down the book he had picked up, and moved over to the object in question. The cushioned top of the footstool lifted to reveal a recess, which did indeed contain a small chest. He pulled it out and opened it just as Gary added, “It has a finger in it.”
Constantine twitched as he gazed down at the unsightly digit. It was small and dark and withered, as if it had been mummified.
“I think it’s Asmodeus’s finger. At least, I know he is missing a pinky, and I assume that’s his.” Gary watched with interest as Constantine tucked the chest away in his shirt. “What else are you looking for? Like I said, I’m a whiz at scavenger hunts. I can help you find some other stuff, if you like.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Constantine told the chatty head. He inclined his own in thanks. “This will suffice. Good-bye.”
“Aw, you’re leaving?”
Constantine slipped back into the spirit world, Gary’s words trailing eerily after him. “I was hoping you could stay to lunch. It’s been forever since I had someone to talk to who didn’t want to go into details of the latest flesh rending going on downstairs…”
Three
The path out of the palace wasn’t particularly fraught with danger, but Constantine, aware of the shriveled finger stashed away on his person, took the precaution of pausing whenever he came to a room or hallway that was occupied. Most times, the demons were passing through on some errand or other, but it wasn’t until he had almost reached the exit that something ruffled his equanimity.
“—don’t think you have the authority to give me orders,” one demon was saying to another when Constantine rounded a corner. Beyond the demons, the doorway to the mortal world was in sight. His spirits rose; he was almost out of Abaddon, away from the risk of discovery, and better yet, about to become the savior of the dragon world.
“I am a demon third class,” the second demon protested. He poked the first demon in the chest as he spoke. “While you are only fourth class. By the laws of Asmodeus, you must attend to my bidding.”
Constantine edged around the pair, realizing they were the same two demons he’d seen when he first entered Abaddon.
The first demon gave the second a shove, almost sending the latter reeling into Constantine. He danced to the side and hurried past the two demons, heading straight for the door to Seville.
“You’ll go on report for that,” the second demon said, pulling out a notepad and writing something down. “As well as for refusing to kill the mortal. Let me see, your name is Vian?”
“Don’t report me!” the first demon shrieked. His demeanor had changed in a blink of an eye. Constantine had a moment of sympathy for him—punishment in Abaddon for an infraction of any sort was bound to be arduous, to say the least. But it was the demon’s next words that had him pausing at the threshold of the door. “I’ll do it, I’ll do it. But… the mortal is a Charmer. What if she does something to me before I can kill her?”
“She has few powers here,” the second demon was telling the first. “You worry for nothing. Besides, the order came from Lord Asmodeus himself. He has no time to deal with her, and wants to be rid of any potential trouble.”
“But she could do things to me. Unnatural things,” Vian the demon whined. “You could kill her quite easily. You’re bigger than me, and a demon third class.”
“Which is why you’ll do what I tell you to do, and I tell you to go kill the mortal.”
Constantine was past the pair and halfway to Bee’s cell before he was out of earshot of the arguing demons. Damnation, he hated feeling like he had been backed into a corner, but there was nothing for it—Bee was too important to the salvation of the dragons to allow Asmodeus to kill her, not to mention the fact that he had always prided himself on being a sensitive dragon, one who understood emotions better than most. True, no one else seemed to see that side to his personality, but he was confident that someday he would be known for his sensitivity. He knew he’d never be able to live with himself if he allowed the unprotected Bee to be slaughtered when he could prevent such an atrocity.
Bee was sulking in the back of her cell when he approached the door. Although he could no longer hear the demons, he knew it was merely a matter of seconds before one of them came to fulfill his horrible plan. Constantine stepped out of the spirit world just as Bee looked up and made an exclamation.
“Oh, it’s you. Come to taunt me some more, have you?” she asked with an injured sniff.
“Unfortunately, no.”
“Unfortunately?” she asked on a gasp. “You really are a bastard, aren’t you? I mean, I know you dragons are cold-hearted, and think only of yourselves, and never do anything without being paid for it first, but—”
“Be quiet, woman!” Constantine said loudly, and before she could recover, added, “Get to the back of the room.”
She put her hands on her hips, and stuck her chin out in a stubborn manner. “I like that. You think you can tell me what to do? Well, I have news for you—”
“If you don’t get out of the way, you’ll be burned,” Constantine snarled.
Bee blinked at him for a couple of seconds, her mouth opening and closing, but evidently she thought better of continuing, and scurried to the back of the cell.
Constantine, with a quick look up and down the hall, took a deep breath, summoned as much of his energy as he dared risk, and blew dragon fire onto the bars.
The bars turned gold, then white, shimmered for a moment, then crumbled into gray, ashy dust.
“Well, why didn’t you do that in the first place?” Bee asked, running forward.
“Because it takes a tremendous amount of energy.” Constantine held out a hand for her, his fingers closing around her narrow wrist as he turned and took off down the hallway at run. “We don’t have much time, and we’re going to have to fight our way out past two demons, but at least I can distract them while you get through the door.”
“What on earth are you talking abou—”
They rounded a corner and skidded to a halt. Rather than the two arguing demons, which Constantine was fairly confident he could handle, or at worst, occupy long enough for Bee to escape, the hall was filled with at least a dozen demons who appeared in all shapes and sizes of human form.
“Bloody hell,” Bee said at the same time Constantine swore, “Sins of the saints!”
“I thought you said there were two?” Bee smacked Constantine on the arm before gesturing toward the packed hallway. “There’s got to be at least ten demons there.”
“There were only two,” he said tersely, his mind racing with a way to get out of the situation. “And for the record, this is exactly the situation I discussed with you earlier. You remember it: it was the reason why I said I couldn’t release you.”
“And yet you did,” Bee said with thinned lips. “Thanks a lot, dragon.”
“Bite me, Charmer,” he said without thinking.
Bee turned a shocked face to him that almost made the situation worthwhile. But before he could grab her and run in the opposite direction, the mass of demons parted as if by magic, and one giant of a man lumbered toward them. He stared first at Bee, then at Constantine, and, after a moment’s thought, said in a deep voice that seemed to come from the very bowels of the earth itself, “Lord Asmodeus wishes to see you.”
Constantine was about to respond when the giant gestured in the air and spoke a few words in an ugly, grating language.
It was as if someone had thrown over him an invisible net weighted down by anvils. He moved a step back, holding out his left arm to see if he could even lift the limb. The movement was slow and reluctant. “What have you done?” he demanded to know, looking from his arm to the demon. “What spell have you cast upon us?”
“Not spell, bête noire,” the giant said, and with one massive pawlike hand on Bee’s shoulder, and the other on Constantine’s, he marched them up the hallway.
“A bête noire? That means black beast, doesn’t it?” Bee struggled against the paw, trying to peer around him to look at Constantine. “Are you going to turn into the Hound of the Baskervilles or something?”
“Hardly. I am a dragon.” Constantine tried to remember what a bête noire was in the immortal world. He had a vague feeling it had to do with being ostracized from something, but couldn’t figure out why this demon would cast such a thing.
“Hey, I don’t suppose you’re open to bribery, are you? Because I have almost unlimited wealth at my disposal via my clients, and I’m sure they would be happy to reward you very generously indeed were you to let me go.” Bee tried to smile up at their captor. “What you do with the dragon is none of my business.”
The demon rumbled in a negative manner. Constantine glared across the giant’s chest at her. “It’s like that, is it?”
“You’re a ghost. They can’t hurt you.” Her lips narrowed. “Besides, your objection to rescuing me was based on concerns about my safety. I’m simply trying to relieve you of that burden so that you have only yourself to take care of. Leave off, you big oaf! You’re hurting my shoulder.”
“You’ll notice I’m not complaining,” Constantine said righteously, even though his shoulder was beginning to ache under the steely grip.
“I notice you’re not doing anything to free us, either,” she said quickly, and twisted around to land a punch on the demon’s crotch.
It didn’t bother the giant in the least. He kept marching onward, dragging them down a maze of corridors.
“I didn’t become one of the most well-respected wyverns of my time by fighting against a situation I cannot win,” Constantine answered irritably.
“You could escape into you-know-where,” Bee said with a sidelong look at the demon.
“I already told you that I would not leave you behind in that manner. I dislike having to repeat myself.”
The demon stopped before a pair of massive wooden double doors bound in iron, and dropped Constantine in order to throw open both doors, then more or less tossed them both inside the room.
Constantine staggered forward, but managed to keep from falling onto the floor. Until the demon flung Bee in after him. She slammed smack-dab into Constantine, sending him toppling backward, their foreheads hitting each other with an unpleasant thunk.
“Ow!” Bee said, vigorously rubbing her forehead. “Crap on a shingle, Constantine! Your head is as hard as a block of cement.”
Constantine rubbed his own forehead before getting to his feet, and was in the act of extending his hand to help Bee up when a voice echoed down the large, high-ceilinged room.
“Con man!”
“What the—” Bee started to say, turning around to look behind him. Her face went through a series of expressions, from disbelie
f to fear to outright horror.
Instinctively, Constantine spun around and put himself between Bee and whatever it was that was threatening them.
A man strolled toward them. He was of middling height, had dark hair and eyes, and a complexion that would normally be called swarthy when it wasn’t applied to what was, Constantine assumed, the premier prince of all the demon lords. He carried a small brass birdcage, in which resided a grinning Gary.
“Long time no see!” the head called to him, the lines around his eyes crinkling with delight. “I was just telling Asmodeus what a nice chat we had, and he said that since I enjoyed it so much, he’d see that we could do it again. And here you are! Hi, I’m Gary. Are you with Connie?” The last was spoken to Bee.
Constantine swore to himself for his mistake in leaving Gary where he could spill everything. Either he’d done it deliberately, taking in Constantine and leading him to believe the former knocker was a friendly, harmless being, or Constantine had the worst luck in the world in the form of befriending a monumentally clueless, overly chatty head. Either way, they were in a very serious situation, one out of which Constantine didn’t see an immediate way. Especially not with Bee to consider.
“What… on… earth…” Bee’s face was a mask of confusion and terror as Asmodeus stopped before them. Her gaze was locked on the birdcage, and Constantine had a suspicion she was a hair’s breadth away from screaming.
“That is Gary,” he said with resignation at the situation, gesturing toward the head.
“Gareth, really, but no one calls me that. Hi!”
“And I believe this is Asmodeus.” Constantine, whose mother raised him to respect his elders, even if they did head up a bunch of demons, bowed formally. “I am Constantine, wyvern of the silver dragons.”
