Dragon’s Claw

  “What alchemy?”

  He took the flower from me and blew on it, making the color glow and sparkle like the sun. It went from strange and more than slightly creepy to beautiful, pulsing with a bright, constantly shifting light. It was almost mesmerizing, shimmering, dancing and swirling, casting reflective shadows on the surrounding ring of faces—

  Until he crushed one of the petals, and the horrid smell became ten times worse. Thick, viscous sap—or whatever the right word is for flower juice—oozed through his fingers, like toothpaste out of a tube. Ray started gagging again. It was gross.

  But when the Irin held out his hand to me once more, I took it, I don’t know why. It was that sort of day. And was rewarded by the feel of the strangely cold sap squelching between our palms.

  “When treated properly,” he told me, “Dragon’s Claw has the ability to cause one thing to assume some of the properties of another.”

  “Like what?” I asked, but he didn’t answer. He just looked down.

  And then he didn’t have to.

  The sap slid clammily between our hands, one human pale and slightly grimy, one golden bright and carved out of light—until it wasn’t anymore. Suddenly, I was looking at the Irin’s large, shapely hand, but it was covered in my skin. Or something that looked like my skin. It was perfect, down to the last detail: the two freckles on the back of the hand, the short, utilitarian nails, the bruise I’d gotten somewhere and hadn’t noticed until now. Even the grime was the same.

  Meanwhile, my hand had started, very dimly, to glow.

  It began at the outer tips of the fingers, making them partly translucent, like I was holding a flashlight underneath them. It then spread inward, making the little bones on top of the hand look like dark sticks under the skin, which glowed brighter and brighter, until the light suffused the whole surface. Until my hand looked almost like the Irin’s had, just a moment ago.

  And then it flashed, so brightly that I could barely see it anymore. I yelped and stumbled back, hitting the railing hard and staring at my hand, which was suddenly covered in ghostly, blue-white flames. I yelled for Dorina, but she didn’t know what was happening, either, and judging from the way everybody was staring, neither did they.

  Even the Irin’s eyes widened slightly, as if whatever he’d expected, it hadn’t been that.

  “Dory, your face,” Claire whispered, and I tore my eyes away to look in the mirror—

  And saw nothing, except her bedroom in New York!

  I had to get out of here, I thought. Outside, into the rain, where it sounded like the whole heavens had opened up. And where the lashing sheets hitting the roof could wash this stuff off—

  But it was too late. I could feel something very wrong beginning to happen to me. My skin wasn’t skin anymore, it was blue fire; my heartbeat was going crazy, like it was about to burst through my chest, Alien style; and my eyes felt like they were melting in my head, turning my vision even stranger than anything Dorina had ever done.

  I have to get out of here, I thought desperately. I have to—

  The room flashed and changed.

  Suddenly, I was running down a beach, cool surf licking my ankles, hot sand squelching between my toes, tripping and stumbling and righting myself—

  And being chased by a bunch of nut brown boys throwing rocks at me because I was different. One of them clipped my ear and I heard a voice swear. Ray, I thought, as we took a fast right through some overgrown foliage, and scrambled up a tall palm like a monkey. And started throwing coconuts at our attackers until they gave up and went away.

  We stayed there, panting, for a long time after they’d gone, clutching the rough wood with our toes and staring at the horizon, where an old-fashioned sailing ship bobbed at anchor.

  “I gotta get out of here,” we thought. “I gotta get—”

  The scene flipped and there was Claire in some kind of lab, bent over a microscope. I could see her in a mirror over her station: red hair tied up in a messy bun, pen tucked neatly behind her ear, white coat pristine despite the goopy things in a pan by her elbow. She seemed oblivious, just a dedicated researcher at work.

  But the mirror had been angled to reflect the door, where two burly men had just snuck in and started creeping towards her. She saw them but gave no sign, except to palm a vial of something from a nearby drawer. She waited, pulse pounding, while they moved slowly closer—

  And then spun on her stool and threw the vial’s contents directly in their faces.

  “Get out of here!” she told herself, pushing past them as they screamed and flailed. “You have to get out—”

  The scene flashed again and there was the mage, younger and wilder of hair, with no rain to plaster it to his skull. His distorted image was reflected in the shiny silver sphere that a burly black guy—also a mage, judging by his clothes—was holding up. He muttered something and the sphere lit up, brighter than any flashlight for a moment, before he dropped it down some sort of chasm.

  We were already in a cave, but this hole was deeper than the rest. So much so that, even with the light, I couldn’t see the bottom. But we didn’t hesitate, sliding down long ropes until we hit the cave floor, our boots sending up swirls of what looked like salt into the air. It crunched whenever we moved, and shimmered silver bright in the light that the second mage had retrieved and was holding up. He slowly swung it around, illuminating farther into the darkness, and our eyes grew big.

  “We have to get out of here,” we said in tandem, before something lunged—

  “Aughhh!” I screamed, trying to stagger backwards, and the pace of the image feed abruptly sped up. Hundreds if not thousands of memories hurtled my way, lashing at me like the storm outside, threatening to drown me. “No, no, stop it, no!”

  I was yelling and twisting and turning blindly, fighting monsters I’d never seen before in lives I’d never lived. I clocked someone and heard Ray yelp; swung back around and felt glass shatter; swung again and hit wood, hard enough to punch through the tough old boards, and to threaten to break even my knuckles.

  I didn’t care. Because I didn’t see people around me, I saw things, horrible, unimaginable, hideous things, lunging at me from all sides, making me crazy—

  Until someone grabbed me.

  Strangely enough, it wasn’t the Irin.

  The syllables of a spell echoed in my head, loud and confusing. But, all of a sudden, everything else was not. I found myself standing in a dark void, with no walls, no ceiling, not even a floor under my feet—if I even had those anymore. I couldn’t see or feel them, like I couldn’t see or feel anything else. It should have been terrifying, that vast, silent darkness, but after the hurricane of images, it was almost a relief.

  Almost.

  A light pierced the gloom, blindingly bright. But not so much that I couldn’t pick out the features of the mage. He was holding a glowing orb like the one I’d seen in the cave, and scowling at me over top of it. It turned his already bright green eyes incandescent.

  “Are you stable?” he asked, in a voice that said he wasn’t sure that word had ever applied to me.

  Right then, neither was I.

  “I think so,” I croaked, and cleared my throat. “What did you do?”

  “Put you in a stasis pod. We use them for creatures too powerful for the cuffs.”

  He looked at me piercingly for a moment, but when I didn’t lunge at him, he gave a small nod and sat down.

  I thought I ought to sit down, too, before I face planted, but I couldn’t see anything. But when I felt around, there was some sort of bench there. I lowered myself onto it, feeling dizzy.

  For a moment, we sat there in silence. I don’t know what he was thinking, but I was just grateful not to see for a while. The light he held shimmered and gleamed, but didn’t really go anywhere, the blackness absorbing it almost as soon as it left the orb.

  “Damn,” I told him, after a minute. “Wish I’d known you had this thing. I could have used it on you.”


  An eyebrow raised. “I know how to get out of it, too,” he informed me.

  Figured.

  I looked around some more, and it almost felt like the darkness looked back. But not with Dorina’s eyes. She was here, somewhere close, wary, watchful, but giving me the lead.

  It was strangely reassuring. We hadn’t had time to figure out this whole shared life thing yet, didn’t even know if we were going to eventually merge into one person—a scary thought—or if we would stay distinct and have to learn to share. It had been worrying me, so it was nice to know that she trusted me a little.

  I wasn’t sure what to do with it, but it was nice.

  “This doesn’t really capture the body, does it?” I asked the mage. I couldn’t feel my fingers when I rubbed them together. I also couldn’t see them, despite the fact that they’d been glowing like a gas fire a minute ago.

  “The larger ones do,” he told me. “The portable kind we carry as part of our arsenal aren’t so sophisticated. They only work on the mind.”

  “And my body?”

  “The Irin is attempting to undo his stupidity. We shall see if he succeeds.”

  Great.

  “So, you’re doing what?” I said. “Babysitting my messed-up brain?”

  “Yes.” Diplomacy didn’t seem to be his thing. “A crazed dhampir could be a danger to herself as well as others.”

  “And I was pretty crazed.”

  He nodded, but to my surprise, didn’t blame me for it. “Not your fault. But, in future, you might wish to avoid his kind. They crave knowledge above all things, and do not concern themselves with what it costs others for them to obtain it.”

  The words were calm, but harsh, even bitter. As if he’d had some dealings with some of the Irin in the past. And maybe he had, but so had I.

  “He helped me once,” I said. “Saved my life—”

  “And, no doubt, gained something for himself in return.”

  “No. He was on Earth, looking for one of his people—it’s a long story. But he didn’t have to help me—”

  “Then he was curious. He’d likely never seen a dhampir before. He wanted to learn about your kind.” He’d been staring into the void, but at that, he turned towards me, and his face was surprisingly earnest. “That is their coin in trade—knowledge. They buy it, sell it, trade for it—sometimes even kill for it. Be very wary of any you meet. Altruism is not a concept they understand.”

  I frowned. Not because I thought he was lying—he looked sincere enough, and I couldn’t see the advantage anyway—but because he was wrong. Maybe not about this guy, I didn’t know. But there had been a child, a little Irin girl, who Dorina had attempted to help.

  She’d done us a favor once, too.

  “You don’t believe me,” the mage said.

  “The reason I can talk to my other half is because of the Irin,” I told him. “One of their children gave me a blessing that helped to bridge the gap between my two natures at a difficult time for me. I owe her a lot—”

  “Don’t say that!” I somehow felt his grip on my arm, despite the fact that I didn’t currently have one. “Never acknowledge a debt; never give them power over you! Or, sooner or later, they will use it. They’re not angels, no matter what they look like. They’re demons—”

  “As are you,” the Irin said, his voice echoing out of the darkness. “Someday, princeling, you’re going to have to come to terms with that. Someday soon.”

  And the next thing I knew, I was sprawling on the dusty boards of the balcony, breathing hard and feeling like absolute crap.

  But no longer glowing.

  Chapter Fifteen

  It took a while to get things sorted, mainly because Claire was freaking out. The last thing she’d seen was me burning like a candle and trashing the room, including the mirror. And then nothing, because shattering the glass had destroyed our connection.

  It had been re-established now, and she’d been reassured, but if you think that was the end of it, you don’t know Claire. The mirror was still broken—all I needed, another seven years of bad luck—and as a result, she was having to peer through busted shards. It wasn’t helping her mood.

  Fortunately, the mage was taking the brunt of it at the moment, because he had threatened to cut her off if she didn’t shut up.

  Brave man, I thought, struggling to prop myself up against the railing.

  Stupid, but brave.

  The Irin moved to help me, but I drew back. He looked rueful. “Yes, that is likely best for now.”

  “That’s how you see, isn’t it?” I asked, feeling like I’d just run a marathon. “Your people. All those memories.”

  “Some of us. Those with the gift. Not all have it.”

  “But you do.”

  “I have been blessed. Memories are precious to my people. They are the best of us; the truth of us. To be remembered is the only real eternity.”

  I guessed that was one way of looking at it.

  He saw my expression, and smiled. “You don’t agree?”

  “I have a lot of memories I’d like to forget.”

  “You could, if you chose. Memories fade if not cultivated. You decide what you keep, and what you throw away. Out of so many experiences, your memories are the moments you considered important enough to hold onto. They tell a story, your own, and that of the people you knew, the lives that touched you. They are a beautiful, unique work of art.”

  “And those things passed it over?”

  He followed my gaze to where Ray was shoving the flowers into a large shopping bag, because my duffle was in a million pieces.

  “Burn the rest,” I told Ray, and he flicked a Bic.

  “Got it covered.”

  I nodded gratefully—glad someone was thinking clearly—and put a hand to my aching head.

  “My apologies,” the Irin said, squatting beside me. “My people once experimented with Dragon’s Claw, in an attempt to develop a better glamourie. In some of the places we walk, it would be a great relief to know that one’s disguise would not suddenly fail.”

  “I bet.”

  “But it was not a success. Living flesh throws off the properties too quickly for it to be of use. The effects should have been mild and short lived.”

  “Then why weren’t they?”

  He tilted his head. “I do not know.”

  Wonderful.

  I let my own head fall back against the railing. My brain felt fried. I assumed the Irin had some kind of control over their gift, allowing them to choose what they wanted to see. But that hadn’t passed over, and the whole thing had been . . . I didn’t know what it had been. I just knew I wanted a drink.

  “It might have been me,” I finally admitted. “I don’t have a great track record with fey flora.”

  I needed to stay away from that shit.

  “You need to stay away from that shit,” Ray told me, and put a boot through the railing.

  “Don’t be weird,” I said, watching him shove the rest of the flowers over the ledge, sprinkle them with something from a flask, and drop his lighter on the pile.

  “Bonfire of the veggies,” he hiked a thumb.

  “What did I just say?”

  He made a face. I twisted around, and for a moment, we watched the things burn. They didn’t glow like when the Irin had touched them, but they did look horribly lifelike, writhing in the flames. Damn, I wanted out of here!

  But I had to clear something up first.

  “I don’t get what all this has to do with what happened in that basement,” I said, looking at the Irin. “And don’t tell me you weren’t there. Some of your power was found in one of the vampire’s wounds.”

  He didn’t deny it. “As I said, the properties of the flower do not long affect living flesh. Inanimate objects, on the other hand . . .”

  For a moment, I still didn’t get it.

  And then I did.

  “The bullets.”

  He nodded. “Once the secret was rediscovered, it must have
been an easy leap to make. What, after all, makes a stake effective against a vampire? It isn’t the blow itself. It may cause damage, but the same wound from any other weapon would be healed in a moment. It’s the wood that disrupts the spell—"

  “Wait, what?” That was Ray.

  The Irin looked at him. “Or the disease, if you like, although that is a misnomer. It was not a disease the gods gifted you with, but an . . . upgrade . . . if you like, to make you better warriors—”

  “Okay, okay, wait.” Ray said. “You wanna start from the top? ‘Cause, somewhere, I missed, like, a whole volume.”

  “He’ll tell you nothing unless you trade him something,” the mage said. “And even then, half the time it will be a lie!”

  “Transparent,” the Irin said, but then he looked at me. And hesitated.

  I just looked dully back. I was too tired to beat it out of him, not that I thought that would work. He was going to do what he was going to do.

  And then he did.

  “I do not have much time,” he said. “I must return to my people soon, or fade. But know this: the gods whom your enemies seek to bring back to this realm once controlled all of it: Earth and Faerie, as well as much of the hells. But they were a greedy, restless people, constantly warring with themselves, each seeking to claim the whole. In the course of those wars, they sought allies to aid them in their quest, but were never satisfied with their quality, always striving to make them better. Thus were many of the dark fey born in Faerie, and on Earth, were created the weres, vampires and such monsters as live in your myths and legends.”

  Ray and I blinked at him.

  He looked kindly back.

  “What?” Ray yelled.

  “What he said,” I whispered.

  What the holy fuck.

  “Yes, your people forget things so quickly,” the Irin mused. “Whereas mine never forget anything. I have often wondered which is worse.”

  “What?” Ray said again, and I put a hand on his arm.

  “You’re saying that vampires . . .” I stopped for a moment, trying to wrap my head around this casually mentioned piece of earth-shattering information. “You’re saying that they were made . . . by the gods?”