Dragon-Ridden (19 page)

Excluding Blade and the guard there
were five other men in the room. One was the finely dressed man from earlier.
Lucius, if Tate remembered correctly. He was the only person sitting and
regarded the room with his head resting on one hand. When she had tried to
break the guard’s neck, everyone else had made some move to stop her except
him. He had just watched in amusement.

Two of the other four kept their
eyes trained on Tate as if afraid she’d attack at any moment. They were
obviously guards of some sort. A man with blond hair and a friendly sort of
face had resumed his seat and bent over to say something to Lucius. A faint
smile was Lucius’ response. The blond faced Tate with a look of expectation.

The last man in the group was
exactly what Tate had assumed Umi’s informant would look like. Dressed in
clothes that had seen better days, he kept fiddling with his sleeve cuffs. He
cast a nervous glance towards a cage pushed to the side of the room.

That cage’s occupant was by far the
most fascinating thing in the room. The creature, one Tate had never seen
before, stretched slightly brushing against the bars. Little beads of light
flew from the bars to attack the creature. It yelped, backing into the center
of its cage and cringing. It didn’t have far to go. The poor thing had very
little room and couldn’t even stand fully upright.

Its body was a cross between one of
the large barbed-tail cats and a sunbear Tate had seen in a market place. A
sleek tail complete with deadly sharp barbs whipped unhappily. Blue eyes
surrounded by a golden ring of fur regarded Tate from a narrow face with a flat
nose. Tufts of fur stuck out from ears that sat atop his head and his fur had
small black rosettes on its arms that shifted into brown, black, and gold
stripes along his back. It had the sleek body of a cat but the more human
movements of the sun bear.

When the shifty man started for the
cage, the creature hissed, showing an impressive row of fangs. Definitely a
meat eater. The shifty man took a metal rod from his belt and touched it to the
cage’s bars. A spark ran down it and onto the bar. An arc of light detached
from the metal and zapped the creature forcing it to cower onto the floor
yowling.

It
hurtithurtsithurtsstopstoppleasestop
, a voice in Tate’s head screamed.

She blinked. Normally the only
voice she heard was the dragon’s, but this one was different. It touched a cord
in Tate creating a sense of empathy it. She watched its pain and fought not to
turn away.

She was on the verge of stopping
the torture when Lucius’ voice did it for her. “That’s enough. Either kill the
beast or leave it alone. I’m tired of listening to it screech.”

“Why did you even bring it, Sam?”
the blond asked.

“I thought the Night Lord would
want to see one of the creatures that have been terrorizing the tunnels. Maybe
you can find some use for the thing.”

“For a price, of course,” the blond
said sarcastically.

“It seems only fair that I be paid
some sort of finders fee for my trouble.” The man ran a hand down the front of
his shirt. “Of course, if you aren’t interested, I can see if the Red Lady
would take him off my hands. I hear she’s paying top price for any who bring
her a creature. She uses their skin as clothes.”

“Is that what they say?” The blond
looked a little grim as he shared a meaningful glance with Lucius. It looked a
little odd on a face that until now had shown nothing but a wry humor at the
night’s events.

“Yes. This one in particular should
catch her eye with the strange patterns on its fur.”

Lucius lounged indolently back in
his chair. “It’s a wonder that you thought to bring it to me at all if the Red
Lady would, as you say, pay you handsomely for it. Yes, it does make me
question why you would bring it here.” He pinned the man with his eyes. “I’d heard
you do most of your business with her these days.”

“As I said, I thought you might be
interested to know what had been killing your men.” The sly man couldn’t quite
meet Lucius eyes.

“I know what has been killing my
people.” He pointed one finger at the cage. “And that is not it. The beast
responsible has many more legs and a much uglier face. So I ask again, why have
you brought it here?”

Tate jerked slightly when a voice
slid into her mind.
To kill. Won’t succeed. Must kill talking man. Have to
have tohavetohaveto.

She shifted uneasily, unsure. Once
again, the voice didn’t sound like her dragon’s. She was pretty sure she knew
where the voice was coming from too. The creature’s agitation rolled off it in
waves, and Tate couldn’t get over the absurd idea that it was the creature’s
thoughts she was hearing.

The conversation between Lucius and
the sly man continued as she slowly moved to the cage. Blade moved with her but
seemed content to let her do as she pleased as long as she didn’t try to escape
or harm the others. Worked for her. She had a puzzle to figure out.

The creature focused on Lucius with
rapt attention. If Tate’s theory was right, and it was entirely possible that
the voice was just one of many in her head, Lucius was its target.

“Hello,” Tate whispered softly.

She waited until the beast looked
at her. Amber eyes met hers with an intelligence she hadn’t expected to see.
This was no animal. Or not entirely. She didn’t know what that made him, but he
wasn’t some creature incapable of understanding. Knowledge of self radiated
from his eyes as did a helpless anger.

Tate could relate. She knew what it
was to feel so enraged at the circumstances around you but unable to do
anything to change them.

She needed to give it a name, even
if it was a name only she knew. Calling it ‘the creature’ and ‘it’ wasn’t very
flattering for either of them. She could always call him Spot after the
rosettes on his fur but that made him sound like a pet she’d picked up at
market. One that could rip off her limbs and beat her with them. No, Spot
wouldn’t due.

Oh, she knew. Night. Night was the
perfect name for him.

“Can you speak?” she asked.

The creature didn’t answer,
regarding her with wary suspicion. Tate sighed. Guess not. At sea, she’d heard
of a group of people who didn’t use sound to speak and instead used hand
gestures to communicate. Unfortunately, she didn’t know the hand language and
doubted the creature did either

Can you speak?
She thought
at him. She didn’t know what crazy urge possessed her to try mind speaking with
him. As far as she knew the ability to speak mind-to-mind was rare, existing
mostly in stories told on lonely nights at sea.

No response. Tate caught herself
holding her breath in anticipation and laughed silently at her foolishness. Of
course he couldn’t speak mind-to-mind with her. Just like she really hadn’t
heard him earlier. It was just another example of the decay that infested her
brain. Couldn’t remember anything, and made up voices to keep her company.

Try again,
a female voice
whispered from the crouched presence that occupied the back of her mind. She’d
grown used to its company and for the most part ignored it except for those
rare instances when it spoke to her, which thankfully wasn’t often.

She’d already made up her mind to
ignore it this time too. The voice sighed.
Stubborn.
Scales slid against
rock before it shouted.
Try again, try again,
tryagainTRYAGAINTRYAGAINTRYAGAIN.
Each word louder than the last until it
was a deafening roar that drowned the room out and left Tate’s head pounding in
time to the words.

Enough
, Tate shrieked in her
head.

The creature, Night, jerked back in
his cage and then inched closer. Tate eyed him. Did he really hear her, or was
it coincidence?

Stubborn.
The voice
chortled. There was a flicker of movement originating from the tattoo. Tate
could feel it shift and wiggle, almost as if it was trying to get comfortable
on her arm.

Putting aside the dragon, Tate
crouched until Night was at eye level with her.

Can you hear me?
She thought
uncertainly at him.

Louder
, the female voice
said.

Tate rolled her eyes. This was
ridiculous.

Can you hear me?

Push the thought from your mind,
the female advised.

Beads of sweat popped up on her
forehead as she struggled to do just that.
Can…you…hear me?

It was much harder to think at
something than she would have thought. It felt kind of like giving oneself an
aneurysm. If he didn’t answer this time, that was it. Tate wasn’t wasting any
more of her time on this pointless exercise. She didn’t even know why she’d
tried in the first place. He wasn’t going to answer. Speaking mind-to-mind was
impossible.

Yes.

Oh, Great Gods. It worked. Tate
couldn’t believe it. Unless she was imagining a response. Urg. She needed to
try again.

What should she ask him? There were
so many questions.

Before she could pose him a
question, he interrupted.
Help me.
He grabbed the bars and shook them,
yelping from the shock but refusing to let go.
Help me. Please.

Let go of the bars before they
kill you,
Tate thought sharply.

“Looks like my creature has found a
playmate,” the sly man said next to Tate’s ear. Spittle flew from his lips as
he leered at her.

She gazed at him blankly. She’d
lost track of the conversation while she’d been trying to communicate with
Night, who was now hissing at the sly man. From the corner of her eye, she
watched as he bared his teeth and snapped at the air in anger.

Tate wasn’t in a situation to help
anybody, even herself.

He wants me to kill. Impossible.
Impossible. Prey is predator. Prey is predator.

It was a struggle to keep track of
both conversations. One out loud and another in her head.

I don’t… know what… you mean,
Tate
thought. It was a little easier to send her thoughts this time but left her
sweating from the effort.

“Sam, I don’t remember you being a
part of my clan,” Lucius said.

“No. I have not been allowed that
honor,” Sly man said, looking slightly confused.

“Then why are you threatening my
guest as if you were?”

Leader. He wants me to kill
leader.

Leader? Lucius?

Which?
Tate looked back at
the group. A hazy image formed in her mind. The coloring was a little off, but
it was definitely Lucius. Tate wondered if she’d be blamed if Night killed his
target.

Why can’t you kill him?
 Tate
asked. It would solve several of her problems very nicely but she might end up
stranded below ground as a result which wasn’t so appealing.

Too powerful. Last one who tried
was blown apart. I’ll die. Cubs will die. Spark will eat us all.
A keening
rose in Tate’s mind. All this mind talk was giving her a headache.

Stop that,
she snapped.
You’re
not dead yet. How are you supposed to kill Leader, I mean Lucius, from your
cage?

The hinge is faulty. Easy to
escape. Will die, will die, WILL DIE.

Night’s mental volume felt like a
punch right between the eyes. She couldn’t even cover her ears to turn it down.
A headache took root right behind one eye and throbbed with each heartbeat.

For a being that looked like it
could slaughter its way through the city, Night was a bit hysterical.

Alright. Alright. No need to
shout. For now, just stay in your cage while I think of a way out for both of
us.

For now they’d have to play it by
ear and hope an opportunity for escape presented itself.

He has control for death collar.
He can kill cubs if I don’t act the way he wants.
The thought was urgent.

That was something Tate could do
something about. Maybe.
What does it look like?

An image formed in her mind of an
oblong white piece of metal with what looked like a series of clear buttons on
it.

Luckily, Sam, the sly man, had
stayed near Tate for his dress down by Lucius. He watched the men with great
intensity.

The remote wasn’t anywhere visible
to Tate.
Where is it?

String around his neck.
Night’s hope filtered through his speech. He shifted slightly in his cage as he
gave her his rapt attention. It’d be a hell of a time to fail.

How does one go about stealing in a
room fool of thieves? Not just any thieves, either. The best in the city.

It really was amazing how Tate
continued to find herself in these situations.

Conscious that she was the center
of attention again, Tate nonchalantly moved away from Night’s cage with Blade
still a shadow at her back. It looked like Lucius was finally ready to address
his business with Tate. She’d kind of been hoping that she’d been forgotten.

“What are we to do with our wayward
bird?” Lucius asked.

Tate wasn’t anybody’s bird, let
alone a wayward one. “Release her back into the wild?” Tate asked hopefully.

The blond snorted as he choked back
a laugh.

“We could do that,” Lucius said
seriously. Then he smiled at her. “But that would mean all that work to get you
here would go to waste.”

Tate knew he wanted her to ask why
he had brought her here and it gave her a perverse kind of satisfaction to act
counter to his expectations. She eyed Sam and edged a step closer. She could
see the chain circling his neck but not the remote.

“You’re an odd creature,” the blond
suddenly remarked. “Here you are surrounded by extremely dangerous men and yet
you show no fear. You even rebel in your own odd little way.”

Tate didn’t know what to say. Not
many would have attributed her silence to a form of rebellion. Most attributed
her silence to caution or fear.