Dragon Seeker, Part Three Page 3

  “Right, then. Give me one second and I’ll fetch ye a key.” Peeling her eyes away from the Dragon shifter with some apparent effort, Elsie jogged towards the bar, every bit of her short frame bouncing joyfully as she went.

  “Well, you have a new fan,” Trix told Lyre silently, looking sideways at him and winking.

  “I only want one fan,” he responded, crossing his fingers to convey the secret sign that he’d taught her, reminding her that he wanted to get his face between her legs as soon as possible.

  “Want? You have me already,” she replied, her voice still coming at him tacitly as she cupped her hand over his to squeeze his crossed fingers. “And we’ll have some of this for dessert, shall we?”

  He nodded. “That sounds like an excellent plan. In preparation, I’ll bring our things to our room when Little Miss Jolly Cheeks returns with the key. I’ll take your sword with me, so she doesn’t think we intend to slice any heads off, shall I?”

  “Yes, good idea. I’d nearly forgotten I had it.” Trix leaned forward and pulled at the shoulder strap securing her katana’s sheath and handing it over. “I don’t suppose I’ll need this in the next little while.” At least I hope not.

  “No, I don’t think you will,” Lyre said. He seemed confident, at least.

  Just as the Dragon shifter tucked the sword under the table, Elsie raced back towards them from across the room, beaming as though she just couldn’t contain herself.

  “Look at both of ye, all smiles and silent gazes. It’s so nice to see a young couple staring lovingly into one another’s eyes,” she said. “I remember when my Archie and I used to…well, never mind. Just…it’s nice to see a young couple in love.”

  In love. Yes, thought Trix. That was exactly what she felt, even if the words hadn’t been spoken between them yet. It seemed too soon to say it, and yet she’d felt it deeply, almost since the beginning. When all of this was done—when they’d recovered the Relic and they could settle into some sort of normal life—she’d tell him she loved him. And then every day for the rest of her years.

  “Yes, we do like looking at one another,” Trix finally said, shifting in her seat. Wanting to change the subject from something so personal. “But, erm, I don’t suppose you have our room key?”

  “Oh, yes! I’d nearly forgotten. Room 203, if you please,” Elsie said, handing it over. Lyre nodded his thanks to her, standing up to extract it from her extended hand. He wrapped his fingers around the katana’s sheath and the handle of Trix’s bag, turned and walked towards a staircase at the back of the pub.

  “Cat got yer lad’s tongue, then? He’s awfully quiet.” Elsie said softly when Lyre had disappeared around a corner.

  “No cat,” Trix said, smiling sweetly. “He doesn’t speak, at least not with his voice. He’s deaf, you see.”

  “Oh, dearie, I’m sorry,” Elsie replied, temporarily mortified. If it was possible, her face had now gone an even deeper shade of crimson—was there something redder than blood red? Yes, apparently—and she leaned her palms against the table, her repentant face staring down at her fingers. But it took only a few seconds for the mortification to wear off and for nosiness to take over again. “I suppose that’s why you two were looking at each other that way and not speaking like normal folk,” she said. “What a shame. He’s such a handsome lad, too. How did that happen, then?”

  Trix wanted to tell her it was none of her damned business, though she did like the innkeeper. It wasn’t Elsie’s fault; straight talk like this was a symptom of growing up in a small town where gossip abounded and no secrets were kept. There was no such thing as tact in small-town Scotland.

  “Good lord, Lyre, what the hell do I tell her?” she asked internally, inadvertently shooting the words towards her lover. It never occurred to her that he might register them from so far away. But as she tried to come up with an appropriate response to Elsie’s meddlesome query, Lyre’s voice came to her from somewhere on the inn’s second story.

  “Tell her it was the result of a tragic but incredibly pleasant sexual accident,” he said. “A blow job so extraordinary that it literally blew my mind, and took my ears with it.”

  “Um…he…it was an accident,” Trix spat out, nearly bursting into fits of laughter as she dug her fingernails into her palms, trying not to let herself succumb to her amusement at the image of Lyre’s mind-blowing sexual experience. “He was scuba diving when he was much younger. And it’s all right; he’s not particularly sensitive about it. He manages very well, as you can see.”

  “Well, yes, he does. Goodness, he’s quite a specimen, that one,” said Elsie, who now seemed to want to talk about Lyre as though he were a museum oddity. “He’s braw as anything, isn’t he? Well, a man who looks that grand doesn’t need ears. He’s got everything else exactly where it should be. At least, I expect that he does. You’d know better though, wouldn’t you?” For a moment her eyes glazed over as though she’d entered some sort of trance-fantasy about what the Dragon shifter might look like naked, before snapping out of it and turning back to look into Trix’s amused eyes. “Now, what else can I get for ye? We have the finest fish and chips in town, though you’ll be wantin’ haggis and black pudding, if you’re a proper Scot.”

  “Actually, fish sounds perfect,” Trix told her, neglecting to mention that haggis had always made her gag, to say nothing of black pudding. Intestines and blood, she’d always said, were not meant to be consumed by humans. “And two pints of your finest ale, whatever it is. But before you go, there’s something I want to ask you, as well…if it’s all right.”

  “Oh. What’s that then, dear?”

  Trix leaned forward to speak in hushed tones, wary of anyone who might overhear her. “What can you tell me about the Tor?”

  For a moment her hostess lost her cheerful expression, her jaw shutting tight. A strange reaction to a question that visitors probably asked on a daily basis.

  “Well, if you were just any regular tourist, I’d tell ye that it’s tall and pretty, worth a look, but generally overrated. But something tells me that you’re not regular folk. And that’s not what you’re asking about, is it?” Her eyes moved to look out the pub’s front windows, drawing Trix’s gaze. In the distance, the Hunter could see the silhouette of the hill and tower standing atop it, now fading into the dark of the evening sky. Elsie turned back to her, whispering. “And I suppose I should also tell you that you’re not the first to be askin’ about it in the last few days.”

  “Oh?” Trix’s hands moved to her lap, tensing into hard fists. “Who else has asked?”

  Elsie leaned in close, just as the old man had done on the street. Her eyes shifted to look about the room as though she were on high alert. “Strangers. Odd folk, with dead eyes and hollow cheeks,” she said. “They were coimhich, if you know my meanin’.” Trix nodded; she knew the Gaelic word that meant odd. “They sounded English. You know, Sassenachs. But I’ll tell you this much: they didn’t look like any English I’ve ever met.”

  Trix shivered, feeling the danger in Elsie’s words. There was no doubt in her mind that the innkeeper was describing the enemy. The Forsaken.

  “These strangers—you’re telling me they’ve come right into the inn, then?” she asked.

  The woman nodded. “Oh, yes. As recently as today one of ‘em was here,” she replied. “Asking me the oddest things.”

  “Such as?”

  “Oh, she wanted to know if there were others like them about. And one of ‘em asked me if I knew how to get under the Tor. Under! Can you imagine such a thing? As though you can wander into the hill itself, like some sort of ghost who walks through walls straight into the Underworld. Course, by the paleness of those folk, you’d think they were spirits, all of ‘em. Ghosts in living flesh.”

  “All of them? How many have there been?”

  The woman shrugged. “Maybe three or four different ones over several days, asking questions, prying and whatnot, all on separate occasions. One of ‘em was…” She sto
pped herself, biting her lip. “Oh my word. It didn’t even occur to me until just now…”

  “What is it?” asked Trix.

  “She was asking about you.”

  Friends and Enemies

  Upstairs, Lyre made his way to room 203, sniffing the air as he advanced. Though he’d kept most of his concerns from Trix his senses were on high alert, his eyes and nose searching for any evidence that their enemies might have infiltrated the inn. But so far, nothing indicated that there might be Forsaken in the vicinity.

  That, at least, was a temporary relief.

  When he reached the room he noticed that its shiny black door had been painted one too many times over the years, and hung a little crooked on its hinges. “Perfect,” he thought, grinning. There was something charming about an inn whose interior was so ancient that it had gone a little askew.

  As he unlocked the door and pushed it open, his mind went to Trix, searching her out. He could still feel her presence despite the floor between them. Their mental bond was now penetrating walls and staircases, and growing stronger all the time. He’d never felt so closely linked to anyone in his life.

  The only person who’d ever come close was Minach, his twin.

  When Lyre and his brother had been children, they’d shared an extraordinary mental bond. On many occasions they’d sent secret messages back and forth to one another, even as one of them was tearing around outside, the other sitting quietly in an upstairs bedroom. They’d been partners in childhood crime. Conniving and mischievous, as boys tended to be.

  And they’d been happy.

  But the messages had ceased, their bond severed, the day that Lyre had lost his hearing. In the place of closeness, anger and guilt had set in, a deep, bottomless chasm forming between the brothers.

  Lyre had vowed more than once that his link with Trix would never be so cruelly cut off. Nothing in this world could ever pull them apart, at least no force that the Dragon shifter could fathom. She’d become more than just a lover and a partner; she was all the light in his life. His Dragon, restless for so long, was content and settled inside him at last. For the first time in decades, he felt complete. All because of Trix’s warmth, her generosity and her love. A word as yet unspoken, but always present in those light eyes of hers, in her smile. In every touch of her fingers, every caress of her tongue on his flesh. Every tremor of her body when he buried his face deep between her legs…

  Yes. Trix was everything good in his world, and he would do anything to protect their bond.

  To protect her.

  Right now, he was worried. Even though he couldn’t read every thought that went through her mind, he could sense her moods. Ever since they’d left the Guild’s chamber under Hampstead Heath, he’d known that she was nervous, even frightened. Something about the task ahead had her more on edge than she was willing to admit. He felt every ounce of her pain. It was his to bear as well, and he would have taken all of it on if it meant sparing her its effects.

  Damn it, he wanted so badly to tell her that everything was going to be fine. That they would find the Relic together, and then life would be so, so good, from now until the end of their days. They would move into his house in the country and make love day and night, with hardly a care in the world. When called upon, they would hunt down the enemy alongside the Guild.

  He wanted to tell her that their life together would be unrelenting perfection.

  But he couldn’t. The terrible truth was that he didn’t know if they’d succeed. He couldn’t know. He wasn’t gifted with foresight as Tryst was. All he had was the strength of the Dragon inside him, and a fiercely protective nature. All he had was a love that he hoped would guide him to look after his Seeker, because he couldn’t bear the thought of losing her.

  Without turning the light on, he wandered around their small bedroom, examining its contents. Slipping over to the window he peeked outside, his eyes scanning the darkening street below. Shadows moved about the sidewalk, children darting to and fro while their parents meandered, content and unhurried behind them. At first everything appeared as normal as could be. Glastonbury was a joyful place, calm and inviting.

  But as Lyre began to turn back towards the room, it was the Dragon inside him who alerted him of the danger, emitting a low growl from deep inside his chest. His keen nose had picked up a strange, sweet scent, in spite of the window separating him from the outdoors. Slowly, he turned to look out again.

  A solitary female figure stood across the road, dressed in a long, dark coat. Her hands were shoved deep into her pockets, and Lyre could just make out a head of long, dark hair and keen eyes that seemed to be staring directly into his own despite the darkness surrounding him.

  As soon as he met her gaze, she turned to walk rapidly down the street away from the inn, the unusual scent dissipating with her departure.

  A Forsaken? He wondered. No, perhaps not. Her scent was sweet, but not as intense or as vile as those who’d fed on human blood. But then, maybe she was on the prowl, looking for her next victim. Maybe she had yet to feed.

  For a moment he considered sprinting out the door, leaving the inn to pursue her. Taking her down, his Dragon’s fury unleashing upon her. Protect your mate, the beast inside him snarled. Take out any threat. But Lyre fought his déor back, calming him. They weren’t in town to hunt people who may or may not be Forsaken, or to brawl in the streets. They were here for one reason only, and that was to find the Relic.

  A moment passed before he realized that his fingertips had dug deep into the window sill, the wood beneath them splintering under his strength. His Dragon had done this. He’d wanted to burst through the window and dispatch the woman. He’d wanted her gone. Whoever that strange woman was, there was no doubt in his mind that the enemy now knew that a Dragon shifter and his Seeker had arrived in Glastonbury.

  Lyre pulled the curtains shut and hoped never to see the stranger’s face again.

  * * *

  “Someone was asking about me?” Trix whispered the words to the innkeeper, whose lips were sealed shut in a tight grimace. “What do you mean?”

  Elsie looked about again as though she were certain that some killer were about to descend on her with a hacksaw. “The stranger, that is to say the woman I mentioned, said somethin’ about lookin’ for a man and woman. Of course, we get a lot of couples in here. But it was the other thing she said—that the man would be…extra-handsome, if you will, and very large. Muscular, like your lad. And she said the woman would be keen-eyed. Searching for something, she said you’d be. Like a finder, or some such.”

  “A Seeker,” Trix lamented.

  “Yes, that’s the very word she used.”

  “Damn it. I’d hoped this would be easy. What a fool I was,” Trix said under her breath. Normally she looked forward to a fight, even relished the opportunity to take on an enemy. But most of her enemies had been easy targets. Slow, lumbering Lapsed without the rapid-fire instincts of the superhuman Forsaken. The notion that she was being pursued by beings so powerful that they could take on a Dragon shifter was…daunting.

  “What was that, dear?” the innkeeper asked.

  Trix smiled up at her. “Oh, nothing. Just—thank you for telling me. Do me a favour, would you? Come knock on our door if any more of these strangers shows up.”

  “Oh, yes, of course I will. I always look out for my own, just like me ma taught me.”

  “Thank you. I’m the same way,” Trix said, and she meant it. Her whole life was devoted to protecting humans, and now protecting the Dragon Guild as well.

  “I’ll come back with yer fish soon as I can,” Elsie said before wandering off with a renewed grin on her face, seemingly unaware that she might have just delivered terrible news.

  Trix was beginning to envy other people’s remarkable ability to turn a blind eye to the danger around them, and wondered when—or if—she’d ever feel relaxed again. Her eyes moved to the shady silhouettes of figures moving about outside on the street. They’re so da
mned fortunate, she thought. All of them. Just locals and tourists, wandering aimlessly. Not a care in the world.

  Little did they know that a woman in their midst was about to embark on a task that might save all of them from a horrid death at the hands of blood-thirsty maniacs. Literally.

  “Happy to do it,” she breathed quietly, offering a sarcastic salute even as Lyre’s form appeared next to her. His hand came down gently on the back of her head, stroking her hair like he was soothing a nervous cat.

  “What’s wrong?” his voice whispered inside her mind.

  “Nothing,” she replied. “Just…for a moment I wished it weren’t up to us to save humanity from the bastards who want to end it.”

  Lyre slipped into the chair opposite hers, clasping her delicate hands between his. “Tell me, what brought this on?”

  Trix managed a faint smirk before replying out loud, asking Lyre to read her lips. “Apparently there’ve been people in here. No, I shouldn’t call them people; the fuckers don’t deserve it. The Foreskins have been asking about us.” The words unleashed themselves with a large serving of disdain. Even if he couldn’t hear her tone, no doubt he could see the tension marking her features.

  “Foreskins? In here? Good lord, that’s just disgusting,” he replied inside her head as he leaned forward, slipping two fingers under her chin and offering her a smile that was no doubt meant to reassure her. “I hope Elsie doesn’t use them in the cooking.”

  Trix let out a laugh in spite of herself, relieved to have been pulled out of her dark mood so quickly, and by such a man. Reaching a hand to stroke his cheek, she said, “You’re the greatest guy. You know that?”

  He nodded forcefully. “Oh, yes. I have a plaque on the bathroom wall at home telling me so, in case I ever forget. It says, ‘You Are the Best Deaf Dragon Shifter in the Greater London Area.’ I like to read it as I take a wee in the morning. You know, just to get myself going.”