Fianna the Gold Page 2

  She didn’t question how she knew, somewhere deep in her dragon bones, that the time was near.

  Chapter Two

  Dragon Suspected

  Her phone rang at last. Miriam Barkin had been waiting all night for this call, and she grabbed the cell. Her breath caught in her throat as she raised it to hear—static—then screaming. Bob was yelling in her ear. “—insane. Fuck!”—crackle—static. “Dragon! Oh, god!” He screamed. Then, “We’re on fire! Holy fuck, holy—”

  Miriam yanked the phone away as an almighty roar screeched through the phone followed by more screams—then audio hiss and, finally, silence. Awful, deadly silence. Miriam disconnected and stared at the phone, praying for it to ring again. It did a few minutes later.

  “Bob?” She hadn’t realized she was shaking until she heard the tremor in her own voice.

  “Listen very carefully, Miriam.” Bob’s exhausted, rage-filled voice came through the phone. “You have a fucking SITUATION here! This thing is a goddamn monster and nearly killed us! We both need medical attention and we’re freaked the hell out!”

  “Bob, I understand. I hear you. You need help and I’m going to get it to you.” She kept her tone as soothing as she could, given her own racing heart. “I didn’t know it was so dangerous, I swear,” she lied. “But do I need to remind you about our nondisclosure agreement?”

  “What? You bitch!” He exploded into a long string of swearing. Miriam held the phone away until he calmed down. Meanwhile, her mind raced. This was the most exciting thing that had ever happened to her. She realized the other end of the call had gone silent, although she could hear Bob’s heavy, angry breaths.

  “Can you get home?” she asked.

  “Goddammit, Miriam. Are you deaf?” Bob resumed his yelling. “We just got smoked by a fucking dragon! My hair is singed off, our jackets caught on fire, and it’s a miracle we aren’t dead. We reek of soot and smoke, you crazy woman, and we need to go to the hospital.”

  Fantastic! Miriam shook her head in awe, imagining the beast changing, the men’s terror. She’d been naive thinking these guys, ex-Marines who became private investigators, could do the job. They came with the highest credentials and cost a small fortune. Now her private doctor would have to patch them up, and that would cost a pretty penny, too. Besides, who had said anything about using guns? Not her. No wonder the creature went berserk.

  At least Bob had found the beast’s roommate. Janet readily agreed to finagle a way into the camping trip and provided the details for a hefty price. Miriam recognized a sly kindred spirit in that one. She might prove useful in the future.

  “Okay, okay, calm down Bob, I’m coming to pick you up.” It was the only thing to do. She needed to ensure the failed P.I. problem went away. “Hang tight. I’ll get you to a doctor I know. I’m on my way.”

  Miriam gripped the steering wheel in excitement as she blew down Highway 84. Her senses were supercharged in the delicious way hustling a huge deal always made her feel, but even better. She was in chase mode, and the determination to corner her quarry burned as she raced along the dark road, the Columbia River winding through the massive Gorge on her left. Bob and Nate would hike the four miles out to the road. They bitched about it, but Miriam couldn’t reach them in their current location.

  Fifty-six minutes later, their charred asses were stinking up her Lexus SUV. She listened with increasing excitement as Bob reported the failed mission, while Nate sat sullenly, shooting her spiteful looks, as if she was the one who had ambushed them.

  The drive to her doctor’s office in Portland passed too quickly. Their information was enthralling. After turning into a humongous fiery creature, the girl flew into the night sky and disappeared. Despite her instructions, they hadn’t managed to get any photographic evidence—a huge disappointment, given the small fortune these guys had cost her so far. Yet, even with tonight’s lack of new evidence, she felt triumphant. Yeah, the guys were a mess and both of them told her they never wanted to work for her again, but they had witnessed the girl change her actual shape, for god’s sake. They had seen the exact same thing she had all those months ago—she wasn’t crazy! The six seconds of video she had managed to garner then now felt like owning the crown jewels. Getting the creature under her control was paramount. She was going to be the richest, most powerful woman in the world, an ambition since the age of ten.

  Thank god for the iron-clad confidentiality agreement she’d made everyone sign, which bordered on the threat of death should they break any part of it. She also confiscated their phones, despite more bitching. These precautions ought to keep their mouths shut, but she might also have to consider other methods to keep them quiet. Miriam wondered how far she would go in that direction.

  “We’re here, boys.” She pulled up outside the glass-fronted office block that housed Dr. A. Habile, M.D., and Associates, her doctor’s private clinic. “Fifth floor. He’s waiting for you.” Then, she headed over to the car valet on Second Street to get the weird smoke smell out of her car.

  “Arjun?” she made a call as she waited. “How are they?” She listened for a moment. “Yes. I’m worried their delirium might make them do or say strange things. Perhaps they need a few days’ rest? You know how I like to look after my people.” She liked Dr. Arjun Habile, formerly of Jaipur, India. For a few dollars more, he usually saw things her way. His genial manner hid a crafty side she’d been able to exploit. Sometimes she needed small, discreet procedures like FDA unapproved injections of exotic “natural” drugs. She’d easily impress upon him the utter necessity of total silence for tonight’s events.

  “Three days? Excellent.” Great minds think alike, she noted with satisfaction and hung up. All in all, Miriam was pleased with the small group of amoral lackeys she had collected. It boded well for the current project.

  Dr. Habile always knew what she needed. His suggestion of a drug-induced coma would offer kinder and easier healing to the “badly frightened and abused men” and allow her to proceed unworried by any leaked information or lack of confidentiality. Having both men out of the way for a few days would be perfect. Once they emerged, groggy, chastened, and perhaps suffering short-term memory loss, as Habile warned was a possibility, the entire situation would be effectively under lockdown.

  She had the dossier Bill had compiled for her with the girl’s details, even down to her little camping trip. Excellent. The PIs would lie dreaming while she carried on unhindered. She did enjoy tidying up loose ends. That she wasn’t quite sure what to do next only added to the thrum of anticipation over the biggest find of her life.

  a

  Abbie woke up face down in the dirt. Her nostrils filled with the smell of musty leaves and damp ground. She raised her head, spitting bits of leaf mold out of her mouth, and groaned. God. Where was she? What just happened? She hurt all over, especially her shoulders and hips. She pushed up, weak and disoriented, and realized she didn’t have any clothes on, which sent her stumbling to her feet in panic on legs so shaky she nearly fell over. Her head hammered in pain and she was nauseated something fierce. She retched, eyeing the ground with longing. Maybe she could just lay back down in the leaves again for a minute. Oh, God, where the hell was she? Where were her clothes? Shivering, she wrapped her arms around herself while she tried to get her bearings.

  Reality sank in, and renewed panic gripped her chest. Lightheaded, she tripped and fell hard onto her knees. Strangers. Outside the tent. Or, not strangers? She tried to make her brain work. Men? Real or imagined? Images lit up in her head and she flashed newly alarmed looks around and behind her. Nothing. Just a weird quiet. A flash of intuitive fear sent her on a fast body check. Scratches on her left thigh, another on her cheek. A full pat-down, front and back, including between her legs, revealed nothing alarming. She did not have a fucking clue what was going on, yet in the next breath, a strange sense of reassurance washed over her. Somehow, she knew the men had not hurt her. In fact, why did she suspect the exact opposite had happened?
Regardless, she needed to get the hell out of here.

  The night sky was lifting and a few rays of soft yellow shone across the snowy ridge of Mt. Hood with the promise of morning. She gave a shell-shocked look around. On a small rise, not far away, was a cabin. A rutted, rocky path to her left wound up the hill to a solid-looking, maybe newly constructed, wooden porch. No lights shone from the windows, but a column of smoke rose from the chimney. It was only a little way to the front door, and possible rescue. She took a few steps.

  Naked, freezing, sick to her stomach and aching everywhere, Abbie pulled together a desperate resolve, and started the slow, painful walk to the cabin.

  Yep, right on cue, the next disaster well under way, she thought bitterly. How dare she try to do anything to help her weird life? Worse, the current crisis had a sick ring of familiarity, especially the blacking out part. This was her mind-expanding journey to find her inner self? Really, really not going so well. Speaking of which, no one was going to miss her yet. Fantastic. This shitshow just kept getting better.

  Her icy, bare feet were bleeding from the sharp rocks, her ass was freezing and her headache had achieved sledge-hammer status. She’d be shoving this entire disaster into the Weird Box, just as soon as she figured out what had just happened to her. Lost. Post-stoned. Waking up God-knows-where without a stitch of clothing on. And maybe worse…something big and super scary had happened last night, and as she trudged as fast as she could toward the dark cabin, she realized she still couldn’t remember anything after she unzipped the tent.

  Numb with cold, she knocked on the door. A strange zinging feeling went through her hand, making her yelp. Just as fast, the pain fled, and the door cracked open. Too cold to hesitate, she leaned in. “Hello?”

  A strong feeling she was alone gave her the guts to enter the dim cabin interior. So warm. She stumbled over to the woodstove and held her hands out, groaning from the welcome heat. Embers this warm meant whoever lived here recently left. Lucky her.

  Because she couldn’t help it, even as horrible as she felt, she looked around, instinctively casing the place. Her eyes widened at the small treasures scattered throughout. On rough wood shelving in intriguing contrast, sparkly red-jeweled earrings and other glittery pieces peeked over the edges of enamel boxes. She loved sparkly. Hanging from nails in the unvarnished pine walls were long strands of pretty, shiny things. A few, very cool-looking, steampunky sorts of hats with feathers were perched on a small table. Hmm. Her larcenous instincts stirred, despite the total inappropriateness of any such thoughts, and also the fact that she stood in a stranger’s cabin, feeling like total shit, minus any clothes. Yet her fingers twitched, which prompted a weak snort. Mushrooms or no, her basic, bad character flaw remained in place. She was truly out of her head.

  What else? She eyed a massive bed, bigger than a king, taking up the back end of the large, one-room cabin. A thick mattress supported by a dark wood frame, looked solid enough for a group. Without a second thought, she limped across the room, straight to the big, gorgeous bed and flung back the blankets. Heedless of her scraped knees, filthy, bleeding feet and everything else, she slid under the silky sheets. She burrowed beneath a triple layer of down comforters with enormous relief and let her aching head sink into the plushy pillow. It was like being cradled in a heavenly cloud. The heavy cover of blankets wrapped her in a blissful sense of safety, and she sank into the deepest sleep of her life.

  a

  The Draca flew until dawn tipped the thick slopes of fir and pine with pink and gold, and they were satisfied enough to slow down. The group swung lower over the landscape. A sudden frisson of awareness shot down Fianna’s spine, her wings faltered, and she instinctively dove for the ground. As one, the three dragons dropped to the forest floor like shining green, pearl, and blue rockets.

  Hunt engaged. No one spoke. No discussion necessary.

  They shifted fast, hustled with alarmed haste back into clothes, and jogged without making a sound up the path to the sanctuary cabin. The cabin truly functioned as a sanctuary, protected and hidden from human senses. Only shape-shifters could perceive it, and yet every one of them sensed the energy of a non-Dracan stranger and the remains of magical chaos. Worse, the feelings centered inside the cabin.

  “Wait!” Fianna halted the group. And inhaled something…more. Her sister-self, agitated, threatened to force a shift again, a dragon’s first defense when confronted with the unknown. Fianna fought back her instincts, understanding the need for her rational human side to be in charge. It was impossible for a human to find this place. Protection spells wrapped three hundred miles around in secrecy. With the exception of the keening of a faraway hawk and the wind blowing through the trees, nothing broke the silence.

  Yet…the unusual scent in the air as she drew closer seemed mixed. Not just human. Her heart pounded. Extreme caution was called for. She recalled the Council’s swift acceptance of her bid to do the mission, how they urged her and her team to leave immediately. Was this a test by the Council to add difficulty on purpose, or was it a present from the gods? Whoever was in the cabin had the power to breach their defenses. Her fiercer instincts went off like a dragon fire alarm and she bucked the urge to storm the front door. Instead, Fianna took cool-headed charge, as befitted the leader of the mission, and led the excited, silent group to a window high on the side of the house, where they crouched underneath. “You look,” she mouthed to Guin, who at six-foot-three, was the tallest in the group. Guin rose until her gaze reached over the sill.

  “Gods!” She dropped into a crouch. “There’s someone in the bed, the Fire Agate is bright enough to blind, and there are pieces of jewel box all over the floor!” she choked out in a shocked voice.

  “What? Give me a hand up.” Fianna peered through the window in astonishment. The heavy wrought iron box looked as if it had exploded. Only a ragged piece of the base remained, atop which the jewel glowed like orange fire and lit the entire cabin as if it were mid-afternoon. Pieces of iron filigree were scattered all over. A vase had been knocked over, adding to the breakage. Across the room, someone was indeed sleeping in the bed. Oblivious, it seemed, to the mayhem in the cabin and the glowing Agate. Fianna motioned toward the unlocked door. No locks were needed in such a powerfully protected space. Only Draca could enter, or so they thought. Orla gestured to indicate she’d stay outside, on guard duty, while they investigated. Guin opened the entrance a crack and leaned her head in. The figure in the bed didn’t stir. The two of them padded inside, and as soon as they entered, the shining gemstone went dark, as if to say “mission accomplished.” Fianna gave it a baleful look. Nice timing, magic beacon.

  Fianna approached the bed with caution, taking in the threads of magical chaos that converged there. A series of feminine snores greeted her. Fianna choked back an incredulous snort and eyed her prey. A slender form curled under what appeared to be every blanket in the house—the lumps and bumps translating into a womanly dip at the waist and rounded hip. Dark, curly hair tufted over the pillows. Not much else was visible under the bed linens.

  Fianna took a furtive sniff. Dirt and sweat and…blood. She inhaled—and something else, something intriguing underneath. She could think of only one explanation for this delicious and shocking surprise. Could they really be looking at the purpose of their entire mission asleep in their bed? How did the woman even get in here? Fianna gazed at the great jewel sitting placid and satisfied on its velvet cushion, and tried to get her head around what had happened. Nothing made sense.

  Orla appeared, and gave the all-clear sign, indicating no one else was outside. She pointed at the bed. Should they wake her? Fianna’s decision. Of course she should wake her. Immediately.

  Fianna leaned over and touched the woman’s shoulder, and was rewarded with another dainty snore. She tried again and the stranger stirred, stiffened, then let out a yelp. The woman jerked to a sitting position, exposing full, pink-tipped breasts. She gave a distressed squeal and yanked the quilt up, hitting her he
ad on the wall behind her with a thud.

  “Oh, God!” Her face was streaked in mud, and bits of leaves stuck to her dark hair. She suddenly slapped a hand across her mouth and gestured in a frantic wave with the other. “Bafoom? Bafoom?”

  “That way,” Fianna said, alarmed. She offered a hand to help, but the wild-eyed stranger ignored her and seemingly focused on getting to the toilet as fast as possible, sort of hobble-limped her nude, mud-streaked self across the room and slammed the bathroom door behind her.

  Orla and Guin were doubled up. “Did that just happen?” Orla asked.

  Fianna wasn’t sure how she felt. Speechless, she stared at the closed door. Sounds of unhappy retching elicited more snickers from the fascinated Draca. Then, a short scream sounded and abruptly cut off, which caused every-one to stiffen. Fianna raised her hand to knock on the door. “Hey, you all right in there?”

  The toilet flushed. “Is it…is it okay if I take a shower?” the woman asked in a weak voice through the door. “I know this is asking a lot, but I’m not feeling too good here and—”

  Fianna called, “No problem. There’s shampoo on the shelf.” Guin handed her a stack of towels. Fianna gave a rap on the door. “Here, I’ve got some towels for you.”

  The door opened a crack. A mud encrusted hand reached out, snatched the towels, and then closed the door with a snap. “Thank you,” a small, polite voice said. The shower started, accompanied by the sounds of intermittent moaning.

  Vastly entertained, the group listened to every sound coming from their intriguing guest. “Some beacon our magic Fire Agate was. Boom!” Orla quipped, and set off another round of laughing.

  “Hey, you’re joking about a sacred object,” Fianna fake protested, not hiding her grin. Anticipation thrummed in her blood. It shouldn’t take long to identify the mystery woman. Was she the Draca-human hybrid? Could it really be that easy?