Gods and Swindlers (City of Eldrich Book 3) (26 page)

“That’s where we’ve gotten some luck. If the lightning really is back and he can control it, then he can attack from far enough away not to be affected.”

“Cooper—if he made this happen, made the lightning come back—he’s helping us?”

“It appears so.”

“Eamon O’Malley said the wizard told him he was helping free a powerful warrior who could help defeat the elves.” Meaghan shook her head. “But I can’t believe Cooper’s doing this to be benevolent, to help us. If he wants Terry back in the game, it has to be for his benefit.”

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend . . .” Matthew stared at the ceiling lost in thought.

“I’ve always thought that’s a profoundly stupid concept,” Meaghan said. “That’s not a friend. That’s temporary ally ready to bite you in the ass as soon as their needs are met.”

“I agree with you, but at the moment—”

Meaghan sighed. “We need all the help we can get. But if he’s helping anybody, it’s those things he’s tried to free back in September.”

The door opened and Russ returned with the clean trashcan and a mug. “Here’s some herb tea. Settle your stomach a little. I hope you aren’t getting sick. That’s all we need.”

“No, that was a case of gut-twisting terror. From the dragon.”

“We’re all here to help. I’m sure Natalie has a spell—”

“No, Russ, she doesn’t.” Meaghan’s voice raised an octave. “Remember? What Dad said about the witches? Right before I puked?” She glanced at Matthew for confirmation.

Russ looked at the both of them, confusion on his face. “What are you talking about?”

Matthew shook his head. “Russ, son, would you be so kind as to get me a cup of that tea as well? It smells great and Kady could use it right about now.”

Russ smiled. “Sure, Dad. Whatever you want.” He gave Meaghan a sour look on his way out the door. “I’ll rustle up some Valium for you.”

Matthew looked grim. “So it’s true. I’d hoped that part was merely myth.”

“What part?”

“The ultimate camouflage,” Matthew said. “Not only are most humans unaware of being stunned when it happens, they can’t retain any knowledge the power even exists. Even Kady won’t remember it and I’m using her voice to tell you.”

Meaghan stared at her father in disbelief. “How the hell does that work? What if we call it something besides a dragon?”

“The idea of the dragon is enough,” Matthew said. “Nobody knows why. It’s why they’re so dangerous.”

“Only humans are affected?”

“No, every species, to a certain degree, depending on how susceptible they are to magic,” Matthew said. “Which means the fair folk must be truly desperate, because they won’t win any friends with this maneuver.”

“Shit. So I can’t even explain to everybody why I’m the only one who can do this.” Meaghan took a few deep breaths, willing herself not to vomit again. “I hate magic. I really hate it.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

B
Y THE TIME
Russ got back with Kady’s tea, Meaghan had calmed down a bit. As terrifying as it was to contemplate a dragon, at least now she didn’t have to worry about how she would be involved. It was now a matter of strategy, tactics, and tools. And keeping everybody else safe.

And she was kind of glad Russ couldn’t remember what Matthew had said about the witches not being able to help. At least then he couldn’t give her the same horrified look of pity she’d gotten from Kady.

That’s all I need—people feeling sorry for me.

Now that she really understood what she was facing, Meaghan could fall back into her lifelong habit of being practical in the face of danger. Yes, it was a dragon. Yes, it could breathe fire and fly. But, its magic didn’t work on her and she could kill it by chopping its head off.

The question was how.

“Killing a dragon with a sword is about as likely as killing a grizzly bear with a Swiss army knife,” Matthew was saying. “A so-called magic sword is even worse—”

“Because it’s made of crappy steel,” Meaghan finished. “Yeah. Terry and Luka gave me the crash course on mystical metallurgy.”

“Since you don’t believe in prophecy,” Matthew continued, “and you understand the uselessness of magic swords in general, you’re free to think creatively. Anything can be a weapon if you’re sufficiently motivated.”

“Like a saucepan,” Russ said.

Matthew smiled. “Like a saucepan.”

“Or the Mangler,” Meaghan said.

At Matthew’s blank look, she added, “You know, that big stapler in the office, the one for court filings and huge stuff? That always jammed?”

“Must have been after my time,” Matthew said.

“That was the stapler I chucked at the stinky space squid.”

“I did hear about the stapler. As for the . . .” He hesitated.

He’s scared.
“The stinky space squid,” Meaghan prompted. “I’m not glorifying them with names like ‘the terror that sleeps’ or ‘the ancient evil.’ What are they?”

“One monster at a time, honey,” Matthew said, avoiding her gaze. “You have a dragon to worry about.”

“A dragon Cooper wants to help us fight, not because he’s suddenly developed a conscience, but because it suits his ends, whatever those may be. Provided we all get through this, those things are gonna be back and I don’t want to be surprised next time. What are they?”

Matthew stared at nothing for a long moment. “They’re ancient. And dangerous. But what we know about them is mostly myth. You ever read any Lovecraft?”

“Owen asked me that, too. I tried once in college, but I hated it. Not my thing.”

Matthew smiled. “Which doesn’t surprise me a bit. Russ, what about you?”

Russ shrugged. “Yeah, I know about his stuff. Dread Cthulhu and all that. Kind of sounds like these things.”

Matthew nodded. “There are certain similarities between what Lovecraft wrote and what little information exists about them. Meg, did Owen tell you about Alastair Eldrich?”

“The guy responsible for the stupid prophecy, who went nuts and torched himself. Yeah,” Meaghan. “I’ve heard the story.”

“Lovecraft was sort of like Alastair. These things were able to reach out and speak to him.”

“He didn’t flambé himself, too, did he?”

Russ raised an eyebrow. “Listen to Miss Burnt Toast throw around the cooking terms. No, he died of cancer, I think. Kind of an odd duck, but nothing along the lines of Alastair.”

“It’s strange how different people respond to them,” Matthew said. They drove Alastair mad—”

“They did a number on Jamie, too,” Meaghan said. “He was a suicidal mess before we got those sigils off him.”

“Is he okay now?” Matthew asked with a worried frown.

Meaghan shrugged. “He’s better, but he still has a long way to go.”

“Is he letting John in?”

“Some,” Russ said. “More than he was, that’s for sure.”

Matthew nodded. “Good.”

“What about Lovecraft?” Meaghan asked. “How did he react to them?”

“He wrote about them. Story after story. He bled all that poison onto the page and appeared to be unaffected.”

“You sure about that? He was totally racist,” Meaghan said. “Even if I liked horror, which I don’t, I couldn’t get past that.”

“Maybe he would have been like that anyway,” Matthew said. “People don’t need any supernatural tampering to be bigots. But you have to wonder how much of human history may have been affected by these things planting horrible ideas in suggestible minds.”

“Like John’s brother,” Meaghan said. “That thing fed off his resentment until it was strong enough to start wearing his skin.”

Russ paled. “Can they all do that?”

“No, not the trapped ones,” Matthew said. “And the Power, whatever it is, only seems to be able to do it in the presence of strong magic. Like Fahraya.”

“And city hall, when all the crap was going on over Labor Day,” Meaghan said. “It seems to have a chummy relationship with Cooper. How much do you know about him?”

“Not much,” Matthew said. “But it fits the pattern. Whatever the source of his power, Cooper is capable of strong magic, which would keep the Power close to him.”

“Owen and I were thinking it might be the other way around. That Cooper is getting his magic from the Power.”

Matthew nodded. “Interesting thought. Something symbiotic, maybe? They fuel each other? But the rest of them—the trapped ones—it looks like they can only influence and corrupt from a distance.”

“Like they did with Lovecraft,” Meaghan.

“Actually,” Matthew said, “he was one of their greatest failures, because all they managed to do through him was advertise their existence, and familiarity breeds contempt, not fear.”

“Yeah,” Russ said. “Cthulhu is all over the place these days, but jokey, not scary. I’ve seen Cthulhu cakes and pie crusts, and Cthulhu-inspired kids’ clothes. Hell, there’s even a Dr. Seuss-inspired parody of Lovecraft.”

“I saw this sweet little Cthulhu snowsuit on Etsy,” Kady said. “It would be perfect for Matty’s first Halloween.” She stretched and patted her belly. “Sorry. I’ll shut up. But it was super cute. Fleece, with lots of little tentacles.”

“Gasp,” Meaghan said in a deadpan voice. “The horror.” She snorted. “I’ve seen them—or at least part of them—and I wouldn’t call them cute, but they weren’t scary either. Just stinky and squirmy. Like I’ve been telling everybody, there’s much worse stuff on TV. Without the magic and the psychic mojo, they’re not very intimidating.”

“It’s not psychic,” Matthew said. “It’s all magic-based. Which means they can’t affect you at all, Meg. At least not mentally.”

“If those wussy-ass tentacles are any indication, they probably can’t affect me physically either. The worst part was the smell.”

“With some Febreeze and a chain saw, you could save the world,” Russ said. “Ooh, there’s an idea. What about using a chain saw on the dragon? It’s not exactly a blade, but it can still slice and dice.” He grinned. “Into big chunks at least.”

Meaghan rolled her eyes. “Maybe on a grizzly bear, but it still looks like a pocketknife compared to a dragon. We need to think bigger.”

I need to think bigger, because the rest of you are gonna be turnips if the dragon gets too close.

Matthew grabbed her hand. “You’ll know your weapon when you see it.”

“Because anything’s a weapon when you’re sufficiently motivated,” Meaghan said. “Yeah, I know.”

“Maybe you could throw a bucket of water down its throat,” Russ said. “Put the fire out first. Ooh, or a fire extinguisher.”

“It’s not a grease fire, Russ.” Meaghan shook her head.

“Shows what you know,” Russ said. “You never put water on a grease fire. Makes it bigger.”

“Actually, it is sort of a grease fire,” Matthew said. “The fire is fueled by lipids produced by a gland in the back of the throat.”

“What ignites it?” Meaghan asked. Could it be that simple?

“Magic,” Matthew said.

“Of course.” Meaghan groaned. “So you can only ignite this lipid stuff with magic?”

“No, it’s very flammable. Any flame would do, if you could get close enough to try,” Matthew said. “It’s very corrosive and the fumes are toxic. Don’t let it slobber on you.”

“Dragon slobber.” Russ grimaced. “Bleh.”

“Then with a lucky hit, Terry could ignite its spit and blow its head off?” Meaghan felt a tiny flare of hope.

“Maybe,” Matthew said, “but it would need to be a solid strike at the right moment and it’s not like he could take it out with a single spark. Dragons burn off fuel as soon as they produce it, so they aren’t sickened by their own fumes.”

Meaghan’s flare of hope sputtered and went out.

“Dad, how do you know so much about dragons?” Russ asked.

“The war. I had to do my research.” Matthew scowled. “And then I had to redact it all. But they couldn’t make me forget it. Only my brain turned to mush before I could tell Meg.”

“And in Fahraya, we had other things to worry about,” Meaghan said.

“And I’ve been in utero ever since,” Matthew said.

“Speaking of which.” Kady stretched and pushed the covers back. “You got your big bowling ball head resting on my bladder. I gotta pee, then I need to walk around a little.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

A
FTER A TRIP
to the bathroom and few trips up and down the hallway, Kady returned to bed, Jeff at her side. After giving them a few minutes alone, Russ and Meaghan headed back in.