“Our hair is part of our body. When I’m in dragon form it becomes my mane. We can feel through it. I could feel your face. It’s very resilient and not easy to cut. And it grows very, very slowly. So having your hair cut? It hurts. It’s painful, and while I didn’t lose any sensation, if you see a dragon with shorter hair they’ve been either maimed or punished. It’s an obvious stigma.” I stared at the ground, feeling the shame rise up again. That had been a horrible day . . .
• • •
“Shimmer, come here. Stand before me.” The Wing-Liege motioned me to cross to the bench and stand on the spot reserved for criminals. He was in human form, as was I and the rest of the Council. His face was deadpan and I waited, silent and brooding. Today, he would sentence me, and I’d find out if he meant what he said or if he had changed his mind and was going to hand me over to Greanfyr.
I took my place, hands behind my back and legs spread in the obedience pose we had learned at the Lost and Foundling.
“Shimmer, outcaste and dragon of no clan, you who stand before me in the Great Hall of Justice, I charge you with breaking and entering, theft, and disrespect for your betters. I charge you with defiling a class above you with your unrequested presence. I charge you with breaking the laws of this land. How do you plead?” His voice was even, calm, and collected. He stood there, his long silver hair perfectly still as he spoke, showing no sign of emotion.
I shivered. The coolness was more frightening than Greanfyr’s wrath, and for that moment, I truly believed he was going to renege on his promise and have me executed, and there wasn’t a damned thing I could do to stop it.
Shivering, I whispered, “Guilty, Your Lordship.”
Lord Vine caught my gaze and—against custom and law—I held it rather than lowering my eyes. Regardless of what happened, I wanted him to know that I was watching him, that I—Shimmer—was standing on this pedestal, waiting his judgment.
“I sentence you to five years’ exile from the Dragon Reaches. You will be sent Earthside in accordance with my sentence, and there you will spend these five years. You will not return to the Dragon Reaches until I summon you, and you will be stripped of the strongest of your powers. I also sentence you to Savarthi’s Shame.”
Savarthi’s Shame . . . No dragon ever cut their hair—it grew ever so slowly, and it was as much a part of our body as any appendage. We could feel through it, sense through it, use it as we might another arm. Savarthi had been a dragon who had brought great shame on his family, and in the past—long past—he had threatened the Empress’s life when she was young. Before his torture and execution, he was made to stand in the middle of the Great Hall, and his hair was cut, strand by strand, till it barely covered his head. Then, in an agonizing finish, his head was shaved. His screams were said to have echoed so long and loud that they became permanently embedded in the hall’s very stones.
My heart skipped a beat. How short would they cut it? Please, please don’t cut it very short, I pleaded in my heart. Please . . . don’t make me wear my shame daily.
The Wing-Liege himself stepped forward, knife in hand. He crossed to me, and I struggled to stay standing. The weeks in jail had weakened me, the weeks away from water had drained me of strength. And now . . . this . . .
As he came near, he whispered in a low voice, “Do not faint. Do not show them your fear or your shame. Stand tall, girl. Stand tall.”
I forced my shoulders back and waited as he lifted the first tendril of my hair. Trying not to flinch, I forced myself to keep my chin level. My lip trembled as he brought the knife up, but when it hit the hair—when the searing pain drove itself through my nerves—I stayed standing, letting the burning cut run through me like water. I closed my eyes but he yanked on my hair and I opened them again.
Again, he severed the strands, and again the pain ricocheted from nerve to nerve. And again, and again . . . and so he went, until my hair was up to my midback—a good two feet shorter than it had been. The strands were on the floor, curling and writhing, like an earthworm cut in two. They would be burned, while the remaining hair on my head would heal and once again begin to grow. But the shame of the cut, and the pain that had roared to life through my body, would never heal, and would never fade. That, I knew in my core.
• • •
Before she could say anything, the server called our number. We picked up our order and left the restaurant. Once we were out in the evening air, Tonya hesitated.
“I love your hair. But I don’t want to bring up bad memories, so I won’t mention it again.”
I shrugged. “I have to deal with the memories at some point. But yes . . . our hair . . . it’s a hard translation but . . . it’s just a part of ourselves that we rely on. We can use it as a weapon, or as rope . . .”
She snorted. “That would come in handy in bed.” And then, as if realizing what she’d just blurted out, she colored up, blushing.
I laughed, though. “Oh, it does. Trust me. Depending on who your partner is and how they react to such play.”
As we got back into the car, Ralph and Chai looked up. Ralph had been showing Chai how to play some game on his iPad. “You’re back and that smells wonderful.” Ralph handed Chai the tablet. “You can play while we’re headed back to Tonya’s house. Just don’t break it.”
The djinn let out a grumble, but he looked in better spirits than he had been after we had killed the wight.
• • •
Alex and Patrick were sitting with Degoba as we trooped through the door. Tonya and Ralph began setting out dinner while Chai and I filled them in on everything that had happened while they’d been asleep. Degoba still looked dazed, but he was awake enough to listen.
“You mean it got me again? I barely remember anything.”
“If you hadn’t drugged yourself up on Sleepy-Cold, we would have been in a lot of trouble and so would you, because I don’t think the thing would have given a rat’s ass about your wounds.” I turned to Patrick. “The good news is that, given the death of the king wight and the other one, we can dispatch the one in your house and be done with it. It’s weakened now, so I suggest we get a move on tonight and finish this job.”
Alex frowned. “I don’t like that you and Ralph put yourself at risk like this. I wish you’d waited for me.”
“If we had waited, the king would have been stronger. And trust me, he was strong enough as it was.” I didn’t like arguing with my boss, but there were times it was going to happen and this was one of them.
He gave me a grumpy smile. “I guess I’m not going to be able to control you all the time. You’ve got a mind of your own, Shimmer, and never let it be said that Alex Radcliffe doesn’t like women with strong wills. We’ll shelve this part of the discussion for when we return to Seattle. So, we go wight hunting tonight.”
The thought of hunting down yet another wight made me queasy. I was tired of them and wanted to be done with it. “Yeah. After that, Tonya should be able to free the spirits bound in the house.”
The doorbell rang as Tonya and Ralph finished putting the platter of chicken on the table, along with sides of mashed potatoes and gravy, and a green salad. Tonya went to answer it and when she returned, Toby Buckland was following her. He was smiling, holding something in a small bag.
“I wanted to thank you for what you’ve done. I’m going to call her Lacy, since that’s who we think she was. I’m not sure of the whole story, though the cops told me you might have information that can help me sort it out, but the fact that you found a long-lost relative who had been . . .” He paused, emotion filling his voice. It was obvious that family meant everything to Toby.
I reached out and patted his shoulder. “We understand.”
He smiled. “Thank you. I’m going to bury her remains in the morning before sunrise. I’d like it if you could attend.” He handed Tonya a slip of paper with an address written on it. “I also brought you something.” He held up the bag.
“What is it?” I was leery of bags
and pouches and trunks by now.
“This belonged to my aunt, Anna Lee. The one who cursed your house, Patrick. It’s a hex-breaker. She had several of them sitting around and I kept them. All you have to do is take it home and smash it inside the basement, and it will break her curse. Anna sold these to people she’d put curses on. It was her way of making a little extra cash from people she was mad at. Not exactly ethical, but then again, look at the family I’m from.”
Patrick took the offered sack and opened it up. Inside was what looked like a large egg made from papier-mâché. As we stared at the colorfully painted oval, it vibrated lightly in his hand. He gently returned it to the sack and set it out of the way where it wouldn’t be accidentally broken.
“Thank you, Toby. I truly am sorry about what Nathan did to your family. He wasn’t my kin, but . . . it was wrong. He wasn’t the type of man I would have befriended if I’d realized just how ruthless he was.” Patrick offered his hand to Toby, who stared at it for a moment, then slowly reached out to take it.
“I appreciate that. His deeds aren’t your deeds and there is no reason you should suffer from what he did.” He paused, staring at Patrick’s fingers against his own. “I’ve never touched a vampire before. You’re very cold.”
Patrick let out a snort, then laughed. “Yes, lad, I am very cold. We aren’t all out for world domination or supremacy, you know. Some of us just want to open a simple bed-and-breakfast and make our way in a town we love.”
Toby gave him a firm nod and then turned toward the door. “I have to go now. Please, if you can, come to Lacy’s interment. I’d be honored if you were there. And if you have anything that can help me make heads or tails out of this . . .”
“We’ll bring everything we found with us. I don’t think you’re going to like it, though—it shows some of your relatives in a very bad light.” I let out a short sigh. “We think Lacy’s parents killed her.”
Toby pressed his lips together, hanging his head. Then, with a sad note in his voice, he said, “It wouldn’t be the first time something like that happened in our family. Again, thank you and good night.” As he shut the door behind him, Tonya let out a little sigh.
“Troubles follow families like that. There are some families destined to live in sorrow.”
But Alex just shook his head. “No, love. Troubles follow all families. You can’t show me one family that doesn’t have its fair share of skeletons hanging in the closet. It’s human nature, it is. The state of being who we are. Now, the four of you eat and then we’ll head over and do our best to clear out Patrick’s house. I’m ready to put a ‘case closed’ stamp on this file.”
As we gathered around the table, I couldn’t help but agree with him.
CHAPTER 20
The chicken was as good as Tonya had said it was. By the time we finished dinner, I really didn’t feel like tromping out into the weather, but tromp we did. Tonya insisted the wight had to have built some access in the basement of Patrick’s house, and so we decided to look there before we checked anywhere else. We left Degoba back at her house—his wound was still too dangerous for him to go adventuring. We decided to deal with the curse after we cleared out the wight.
The house was dark as we approached—no ghost lights anywhere. I wondered just how weak the wight would be without his king and hive mate, but it was foolish to underestimate him at this point. Hell, by this time, I wasn’t underestimating the wayward moth that flew by.
Patrick’s face crumpled as we neared the house. The smell of smoke and soot was still thick in the air, and there had been damage to enough of the sidewall that the rain was getting in. All the money and time he’d put into this place and he was going to have to redo a fair share of it and get city clearance before he could even think of opening.
We headed up the stairs and he slowly unlocked the door, easing it open. The electricity was still working for part of the place—the circuit breakers had been turned off for the living room, office, and kitchen, but the upstairs was on a different circuit, as were the basement and the foyer. The downstairs hall bath had escaped damage, too.
But as we moved into the living room, avoiding the caution tape, he let out a little groan. What hadn’t burned to cinders was heavily smoke damaged, including a good share of his books. Alex turned on a high-beam flashlight and between it and the glow from the hall lights, we could see just how bad the place looked.
The outer wall was charred black, with large gaping holes that allowed access for the rain and wind. The ceiling was burned, charcoaled timbers showing through in some places. In the unscathed areas, the smoke had turned the paint a dull gray. Most of the furniture was gone, piles of charcoal and melted plastic, and over near where we’d sat around the coffee table, the sofas were saturated with water. A fine layer of oily soot covered everything. The smell of smoke was thick, mingling with the smell of the rain, and mildew had already began to creep over the waterlogged upholstery.
“How can I begin to rebuild?” Patrick’s voice was soft, mournful. He turned and led us into the kitchen, where we found the same state of shambles. The cupboards were smoke damaged, some charred by the flames. Food had spilled everywhere, and the appliances looked beat up and bruised. As I stared at the stove, I knew it would never see use again. Perhaps he might be able to save the fridge, but there were dents along the stainless steel doors where the firemen had trundled through, trying to put out the flames.
“You have the insurance money. You can repair this.” Tonya’s enthusiasm was forced, but at least she was trying.
I cleared my throat. “She’s right. You’re not going to let this wight get the better of you. We’ll clear him out, break the curse, and then you’ll be free to make this into the place you wanted it to be.”
“Thanks for trying, girls. I don’t know if I have it in me . . .” Patrick sounded so defeated I wanted to shake him by the shoulders, but I also realized that the odds had not been on his side, and it was natural to feel overwhelmed. He might be a vampire, but he was also human.
“I’ll come over and help, and I’ll bring some of my friends. We’ll form a work party and clean up. Now, let’s get the wight before it has a chance to do anything else to your home.” Tonya seemed determined to keep up his spirits. I would miss her when we went home.
We made our way over to the basement door and Chai moved to the front, opening it. He turned to Ralph. “Little wolf man, you should change form. We can use you in back for a lookout, but we can’t take a chance on you fainting on us.”
“Got it.” Ralph stood back, setting his pack on the floor, and within seconds was in his wolf shape. He wrinkled his nose and let out a whimper.
“Yeah, the smell would be worse in animal form,” I said. “Okay, let’s do this.” With Chai leading the way, we headed down the stairs.
The basement hadn’t received much damage, mostly from smoke and where Ralph and I had ripped off the doors, so that was one bonus. The wight wouldn’t want to destroy his own home, but then again, I was beginning to think these creatures weren’t all that bright.
As we cautiously descended the steps, Chai kept a close eye up front, and Ralph watched from up above. He waited at the top to make sure nothing came along and tried to lock us in.
A dim layer of smoke and soot covered the walls with a gray film, muting the light. Everything was coated.
“Where is he, then?” Patrick looked around.
“I can try to draw him out,” Tonya said. “But I have the feeling his lair is against that back wall, behind an illusion.” She stepped forward and withdrew the pendant from beneath her shirt. As she laid it against her chest the stone flashed and there was the sound of a shuffle from where she had pointed to. Another moment and the lights flickered out, plunging us into darkness.
I leaped forward and grabbed Tonya, hissing in her ear to keep still. “It’s after you.”
There was another flare as Alex’s flashlight came on and tried to follow the scuffling sounds t
hat darted around us. A pale gleam in one corner alerted me—the color of eye shine.
“I think it’s over there—look!” But the shimmer of eyes vanished again as I shouted, and we heard the muffled sound of something opening and closing. From up above, there was a noise and the lights came on again. We turned to see Ralph, back in his human form, with his finger on the light switch at the top of the stairs. He backed away again, turning back into wolf form as we watched.
“Thanks, Ralph!” Alex called up the stairs. “Where the hell is it? Did the rest of you hear the sound of a door?”
“I did.” I let go of Tonya, who slid the pendant back under her shirt.
“Thanks, Shimmer. Hell, I didn’t think he’d be able to turn off the lights from down here.” She adjusted her shirt and tucked it into her jeans. “What do we do now?”
“We find that panel. We tear apart the walls if we have to.” I looked over at Patrick, who gave me a grim nod. “It’s against the back wall, I’m certain.” I led the way, with Chai and Alex on my heels. Patrick hung back, watching as we began thumping along the wall, listening for any hollow sounds that might indicate an entry behind it.
“The wight at the battery—the king—had quite the access panel into his lair. They’re good at illusion, and good at creating seamless hatches.” Chai grunted as he thunked his fist against one area of the wall. He paused. “I think . . . come listen.”
Alex and Patrick had superior hearing—most vampires did—so they obliged him, pressing their ears against the wall. Chai gave it another good smack, and even I could hear the reverberation from behind the drywall and paint. But how had the wight managed to make it appear so smooth?
“Here it is.” The djinn ran his hand over the edges, and a moment later the outline of a door appeared. “It was an illusion, and I can break some illusions. He has weakened, that much I can tell you, and it’s probably because his king and hive mate are out of the picture. He has only his own magic to rely on now.”