Burn Me Deadly: An Eddie LaCrosse Novel (29 page)

Instead at the first touch, Liz sprang to life and kicked me in the chest.

I stumbled backward into the wall. Candora appeared, having hidden his slender form behind Liz’s hanging one, the one place in the room where I couldn’t see him. He was in mid-thrust with a knife aimed at the spot I’d just occupied; Liz had saved my life.

Liz tried to kick him as well, but he wasn’t as off-guard as me. He brushed the blow aside and, apparently as an afterthought, slashed her across the top of one thigh. She arched her back and screamed through the gag; I knew that
had
to hurt. Candora sighed as if all this annoyed him no end, then rushed me.

I kicked him in one knee with my metal-capped boot, at the same time turned inside his stab and ended up with my back against his chest, his knife hand pinned under my arm. I spun and slammed him into the wall three times while simultaneously bending his thumb back from his knife hilt. I saw it was identical to the one I now carried in my boot; Team Solarian, indeed. Candora was tough; he held on until I felt the bone snap.

He bellowed in pain and thrashed like a decapitated snake, but the slight build I’d observed at Angelina’s was no joke or disguise: he really wasn’t very strong. No wonder he had to dope Nicky. I punched him in the chest, knocking the wind from him. Then I hit him with both a left and a right to the jaw. He dropped to the ground like a bag of salt.

I returned to Liz, who was now sobbing. Blood ran freely down her leg, but the cut wasn’t deep, just hugely painful. I grabbed a chair and pulled it under her feet so that she could stand and take the weight off her arms. She whimpered and whined as her long-tormented muscles refused to work properly. I stood on the chair as well and tried to undo the manacles, but they were the kind that locked with a key. I turned toward Candora, and to my surprise he was on his feet, dangling a key ring from his good hand. “Looking for these?” he taunted. Then he ran out the door.

I was no more than three steps behind him, but it was enough. He simply stepped aside once he was through the door and easily tripped me as I chased after him. I skidded painfully on the rocky ground. By the time I recovered he’d gone back inside. I did the same, knowing what I’d find. I was right.

Candora stood beside Liz, his knife held in his uninjured hand, the tip just under the crease of her left breast. He’d kicked the chair aside so she again hung by her wrists, and the cuts from her manacles had opened anew. The knife’s point had already broken the skin, and fresh blood trickled down her stomach. From that angle it would take no strength to kill her; the knife would easily pass between her ribs and reach her heart. His other arm was wrapped around her waist, and she was too weak to struggle anymore. It enraged me to see him touching her that way, but I said nothing. Keeping things off my face was one of the first fighting skills I’d learned.

“It’s amazing what a small little world this is,” Candora said. “Last I saw, you were at the bottom of a cliff. Now here you are, and you seem attached to this young lady.” He turned the knife in his fingers, which dug the tip into the wound. Liz writhed and cried out; the sound cut me the same way his knife did her. “Well, she’s not so young. And I have no idea if she’s a lady. But I do know you’re fond of her.” His mocking tone vanished. “And you broke my goddam thumb. And maybe my kneecap. So drop your sword,
now
.”

I unbuckled the scabbard. It hit the wooden floor with a loud clank.

Again he twirled the knife, not really driving it deeper but just gouging the wound. Liz was drenched with fresh sweat, and sobbed into the gag. I licked my dry lips. I said, “I know where the eggs are. Let her go and I’ll tell you.”

He laughed. “Hell, old man,
I
know where they are. Where do you think I found these two? Passed out down in that hole, nearly dead from the fumes. If I hadn’t seen their horses they’d still be there. You should thank me for rescuing them.”

I nodded at Marion. “Interesting definition of ‘rescue.’ ”

“Eh, he had it coming. We got him out of jail and paid him a nice pile to suck up to that Argoset clown. And then what does he do? Tried to convince me to turn the eggs over to the king. Can you believe it? He went in a spy and came out as a patriot.”

“So you dissected him just for that?”

“No, I dissected him for the sake of your girlfriend here. Someone has to go back in there and get those eggs. I’m not dumb enough to do it, or to set this muscle-monkey loose to do it. But I figured if I got her scared enough, she’d march in there without a second thought if it meant she’d avoid my hobby table.”

Liz’s eyes were fixed on me. I felt her pain, fear and humiliation; I did not acknowledge it. “Idiot, there
are
no eggs,” I snapped impatiently. “Dragons
don’t exist
. This is all just Tempcott’s
bullshit
.”

“Doesn’t matter, old man,” he said blithely. “It all boils down to this. That night she got away from me, that girl Laura hid
something
in that cave. I want it. And you”—he pointed at me with the knife, now soaked in Liz’s blood; a trickle dripped to the floor—“are going to go get it for me. Or else I’ll see what your lady friend’s lungs look like.”

I smiled. “You really think I’ll leave you alone with her again?”

“I know you will.” He touched the knife to her belly and traced a diagonal line across it in her own blood. “If I cut her this way, her guts will hit the floor before you can even shout. If I cut her here . . .”—he traced a similar line along the inside crease of her right thigh—“. . . she’ll bleed to death in three minutes. I can do either, or both, before you can possibly get your hands on me.” He held up his wounded right hand, the thumb already swollen and purplish. “Lucky for you I’m ambidextrous, isn’t it?”

He had me; until I could get between him and Liz, I could chance nothing. And I doubted he’d make the mistake of letting me get there. Still, his delight in his own cruel prowess might be a weakness. “Why not let her go fetch the eggs, then, and keep
me
as the hostage? Don’t you want to work on me like you did Marion? Finish what you started that night at the cliff?”

“Please,” he snorted. “For one thing, the fact that I found her passed out and had to drag her ass back here says she wasn’t up to it then, and hanging around with me all day”—he slapped her bare behind with mocking familiarity—“hasn’t exactly toughened her up. No, since you were kind enough to drop by, I think we’ll send the
real
tough guy to do it.”

I nodded at the table. “He was a tough guy, too.”

“He was just a
big
guy. I had him crying like a baby within ten minutes. I have the feeling you’re a lot hardier than that. Call it a hunch.” This time he violently pinched her nearest nipple, and she moaned in pain. “With your trail whore hanging around with me while you’re gone, you’ll certainly be better motivated.”

I saw from his eyes that appealing to his vanity wouldn’t work. What else might get to him? “All right. Say I go in there and actually find whatever it is that’s hidden there. You know it’s not really dragon eggs, don’t you?”

“Of course I know that. Do you think I’m some gullible stable boy? But something’s down there, and until I know what it
really
is, I don’t know what it’s worth.”

“What if I find nothing? What if Laura Lesperitt just conned us all? Are you still going to let her go?”

“I never said I’d let her go.”

“Then you better say it now.”

He mockingly thought it over, bobbing his head like a flighty girl. “Maybe.”

Play it carefully, LaCrosse
, I told myself. “You know, things like ‘maybe’ don’t motivate me. I work better with promises.”

“Oh, well then, sure. I’ll let her go. You bring me back those eggs or whatever they are, and I’ll turn her loose. Maybe minus a few souvenirs, but not dead.”

Again I saw the utter coldness in his eyes, and the relish he had for his job. Still, he wouldn’t kill her until I returned, because without her he had no leverage over me. A lot could happen to her, though, that didn’t qualify as “killing.” And as for me, I definitely didn’t want to end up taking Marion’s place on that table. I decided to push him a little harder. “No. You don’t
touch
her again until I get back. Do we have a deal?”

“You’ve got nothing to deal with.”

“Suppose you’re wrong about my attachment to her? Maybe I know her, but I’m still willing to walk away from her if there’s a big enough profit in it. What’s to keep me from taking whatever is in that cave and simply selling it directly to Marantz? And in the process letting him know what a screwup you are?”

Ah-ha. I’d found something that rattled him, if only a little. The idea that he’d misread me bothered him. “If that’s true, why do you care if I carve her up?”

“Maybe she’s just a good lay, and I’d hate to see it spoiled. But whatever my reason, I’m making that part of the bargain. You don’t touch her again until I come back. Deal?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, sure, why not?” He held up his hands, the knife loose in his fingertips. He was still within striking distance, though; I couldn’t chance it. “She’ll stay just like she is, until you get back. But I’m only giving you until sunrise. If the sun peeks over the horizon through that window, I’m going to debone her like a chicken. After I bone her, of course.” He winced and gingerly held up his injured hand. “And I’m taking her thumbs first.”

I nodded. I bent to retrieve my sword, but Candora said, “Uh-uh. You don’t need that. Nothing up here but buzzards, crows and mountain goats.”

“Sorry,” I said. “Habit.”

“You
can
take the box,” he said, and nodded toward the leather-padded crate I’d found before.

I lifted it with a grunt; the lead casing inside made it spectacularly heavy for its size. I met Liz’s pain-glazed, terrified eyes and hoped she understood what I was trying to convey.
I have a plan. Be ready. Be strong.
Then I went out the door. I heard her yell something like my name, muffled through the gag. It took all my strength to keep walking away down the hill.

chapter

TWENTY-SEVEN

I

had no real plan, of course, except to retrieve the broken eggshell I’d found before and use it to stall for more time. If I could get physically between Liz and Candora, I could finish this in a blink. But he was too smart to make that very easy.

Trusting Candora to keep his word while Liz dangled like a side of beef did not reassure me, either. The sight of her so vulnerable and helpless, her eyes filled with pleading, cut me deeper than any sword ever could and brought back memories of every person I’d tried and failed to save. Most vivid was the first one, Janet, who was the worst of all unless I messed this up and lost Liz, too. But these memories had no place in my head now. I had to move fast, and hope to hell another, better idea came to me soon.

I rode back to the crevice. The horse, slowed by the weight of the box, would approach no closer than before, and I didn’t have time to fight with him. I took the canteen and strip of sash cloth back up the hill, soaked the cloth with water and tied it over my mouth and nose. I had no idea if it would work or not, but it was the best I could do.

I left the box at the edge of the hole and climbed down again. Either the gas was weaker now or the cloth did its job, because I could barely smell the rank odor from before. The wavering line of blue light had also vanished. The moon’s position now sent light deeper into the tunnel, so I could see better and farther than before.

I found the eggshell where I’d dropped it. I was supposed to bring back evidence of two eggs, though. Even old Lesperitt had said there were two. Maybe Laura and her father had bought or created this fake as part of some elaborate con that got out of hand, and farther down I’d find the other one. I continued on, still staying low to avoid the fumes. This far in, there was not even moonlight, so I dropped to my hands and knees, feeling for more pieces of fake eggshell.

Finally I hit a dead end; the cave was not very long at all. My fingers felt the edge of a ragged piece of cloth. I carefully tugged on it, and it slowly came toward me. It was coated with something that made it stiff and unyielding, and I felt weight on it. I changed my grip and gently pulled the top of the blanket off the object it had been swaddling.

I stopped. My position thoroughly blocked any stray moonlight from the entrance, yet a faint reddish light came from the thing’s surface. I bent closer. It was egg shaped, and about eight inches long. Far from shining with reflected light, it
glowed
from within, faint but unmistakable. The surface was a swirl of multi-colored patterns similar to lamp oil on a puddle’s surface and identical to the shards in my pocket. I also felt distinct heat from it.

I nudged it with my knife. It rocked back and forth; it was no empty shell, but had weight and volume. Then it shivered as something inside it moved on its own. The red glow momentarily intensified.

I suddenly grew weak in a way that had nothing to do with the fumes. I sat back against the cave wall and stared at the glowing thing resting on its fireproofed nesting blanket. My heart battered against my ribs and sweat popped out all over me. I’d had one other moment like this in my life, when my entire sense of the universe had to change to accommodate the reality of an incarnated goddess, and I hated it. I was too old to keep having epiphanies.

Yet here was another one. No matter what I’d previously thought, regardless of what common sense dictated, it appeared that Candora and Argoset and Marantz and Tempcott and Laura Lesperitt had all been right. Dragons
were
real, and this was, in fact, an actual dragon’s egg, lain dormant for centuries. Its possession by either Marantz or King Archibald could alter the balance of power in this whole region, maybe throughout the world.

Wait. There was only a single egg on the blanket. Then the other one I’d found, the broken one, must have . . .