Nice Dragons Finish Last (Heartstrikers) (4 page)

The automated cab had taken its fare out of his phone’s account the second it reached the requested destination, so Julius got out of the bright yellow, driverless car without looking back. It took him a few minutes to push through the crowd of fashionable professionals and the tourists taking pictures of them to the address Ian had given him; a slick club/restaurant hybrid with tinted glass doors and no name at all, just a picture of a tree laser etched into the windows.

As expected for such a high-end establishment, the first set of doors was just for show. The real doors were inside a dimly lit foyer guarded by three cameras and a doorman. Normally, a human wouldn’t have worried Julius too much, but this one was clearly packing some augmented implants—human arms just didn’t get that bulky without medical help—and he didn’t look shy about using them.

Considering how sorry he looked right now, Julius fully expected the bulky doorman to pick him up by the fraying neck of his shirt and toss him right back out into the square. From the expression on the man’s face, he clearly wanted to do just that, but when Julius gave his name, the doorman simply pushed open the leather-covered inner door and told him that his party was waiting at the back.

After the bustle of the crowded square, the inside of the restaurant was shockingly silent in the way only real money could buy. Even the silverware didn’t seem to clink as Julius wove his way between the white clothed tables and high-backed booths. The place smelled rich, too, a deep, subtle mix of hardwood, leather, truffle oil, and other things his sensitive nose wasn’t cultured enough to recognize.

The VIP area was in the far back corner, separated from the rest of the restaurant by a wall of malachite-beaded curtains. Julius pushed them open with only a slight hesitation, pointedly ignoring the well-dressed couples who turned to gawk at him as he looked around for his brother.

He didn’t have to look long. He might not have been able to place Ian’s name earlier, but now that he was here, he spotted his brother at once. He also saw why their mother was so fond of him.

From the first glance, it was obvious that Ian was a dragon’s dragon. Even dressed in a black suit sitting in a black booth, he effortlessly overshadowed the well-dressed men with their jewel covered women and thousand dollar bottles of champagne like a panther lounging in a flock of peacocks. Julius, on the other hand, felt a bit like a mangy dog as he slid into the leather booth across from his brother and dipped his head in greeting.

Ian did not return the gesture. He just sat there, regarding Julius through slitted, Heartstriker-green eyes before letting out a long, vexed sigh. “What on earth are you wearing?”

“What I had,” Julius replied irritably. “I didn’t exactly get time to pack.”

“So I heard,” his brother said, tilting his head forward so that his perfectly tousled black hair swept down over his dark brows, enhancing his speculative scowl. “There’s been quite a bit of talk going around about what you did to send Mother into such a rage. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of her sticking one of us on her private jet for a cross-country trip in the middle of the night before.”

Julius started to sweat. Heartstriker gossip, about
him
. Just the thought made him twitchy. The only thing worse than being beneath a dragon’s interest was being the target of it.

“Sending you away was a good sign, though,” Ian went on. “Normally when she goes on the warpath, she just eats the parts she likes and tosses what’s left into the desert for the vultures. She must really believe you can be rehabilitated if she didn’t kill you outright.”

Julius supposed that was a comfort. “She threatened to do it.”

“Bethesda has threatened to kill all of us at one point or another,” Ian said with a shrug. “It’s how she mothers. That doesn’t mean she
won’t
, of course. A weak dragon is a liability to the whole clan. The real challenge is, how do we make her start seeing you as an asset instead of a disappointment?”

Julius shifted his weight on the buttery leather seat. He had no objections to what his brother was saying, but the
we
part made him decidedly nervous. He didn’t know Ian at all personally—he was the sort of powerful, popular sibling Julius normally steered well clear of—but if he met their mother’s definition of a good son, then he’d rather hang himself with his own tail than help a family member for free. “What do you want?”

Ian smiled. “You,” he said. “For a job. It just so happens that I’ve come across an intriguing opportunity for someone with your…unique talents.”

Julius had no idea what that meant. “So you want me to do something?”

“Yes,” his brother said crisply. “For money.” He shot Julius a skeptical look. “Do you understand how a job works?”

“No, no, I get that part,” Julius grumbled. “I just want to know what you want me to do before I agree to do it.” Because the list of things he wouldn’t do for money was very long and included a number of activities most dragons would do for fun. Of course, being one of those dragons, Ian missed his point entirely.

“Don’t be stupid, Julius,” he said, picking up his drink. “Mother’s the only reason I’m bothering to speak to you at all. Naturally, then, it follows that I won’t be asking you to do something she’d object to, especially not
here
. I know you’ve spent your adult life as far under a rock as possible, but even you must understand that doing anything remotely interesting in Algonquin’s city would bring Chelsie down on both our heads, and we can’t have that.”

His casual mention of Chelsie put Julius even more on edge than his talk about Mother. Chelsie was one of their oldest sisters and the Heartstriker clan’s internal enforcer. Julius had only seen her from a distance at family gatherings, and even that had felt too close for comfort. Mother might rant and rave and threaten to skin you alive, but most of the time, it was Chelsie who actually wielded the knife, and unlike Mother, you never heard her coming.

“Do you think Chelsie’s here in Detroit?” Julius whispered.

Ian shrugged. “Who knows? Bethesda’s Shade is everywhere. It might as well be the family motto: ‘Watch what you say. Mother’s in the mountain, but Chelsie’s right behind you.’”

He chuckled like that was a joke, but even Ian’s too-cool front wasn’t enough to keep the fear out of his voice. Not that Julius thought less of him for it.
Every
Heartstriker was scared of Chelsie.

“So, what’s this job for, exactly?” he asked, eager to get back on track and out of this conversation before saying Chelsie’s name too many times summoned her. Instead of answering, though, Ian’s eyes flicked to something over Julius’s shoulder. Before Julius could turn around to see what, his brother leaned back in the booth, his body relaxing until he looked lithe and limber and confident as a cat. But while his posture was suddenly almost obscenely casual, his whispered voice was sharp as razor wire.

“Too late to back out now,” he said. “Sit up straight, and whatever you do, don’t stare. You don’t want to embarrass yourself any more than is inevitable.”

Julius was opening his mouth to ask whom he was going to be embarrassing himself
to
when she was suddenly there, appearing beside their table without a sound. And even though Ian had warned him, Julius couldn’t help himself.

He stared.

Chapter 2

S
he was a dragoness. Of that there was no question. Even in human form, she radiated danger of the casually cruel, playful kind. She was not, however, a Heartstriker. Julius didn’t know his entire family by sight—only his mother could do that—but he was pretty sure he’d remember someone like this.

She was beautiful, of course, but as a snow leopard taking down a stag was beautiful. Every feature, from her pale, pale skin to the white blond hair that slid over her bare shoulders in a snowy stream to the razor-sharp nails at the ends of her elegant fingers, was cold and otherworldly. Even her smile was deadly, the sort of delicate half smirk ancient queens must have worn when ordering slaves to fight to the death for their amusement. But what really got Julius was the calculating look in her ice-blue eyes as she gave him the speculative once-over dragons always performed when sizing up newcomers.
Player or pawn?
it asked.
Tool or threat?

For Julius, the assessment was over in an instant. He could almost feel the word “pawn” being affixed to his forehead before the female dismissed him completely and shifted her gaze to Ian. “This is the one you told me of?”

Her accent was as cold and strange as the rest of her, a mix of Russian and something much, much older. Ian, of course, seemed completely unaffected. “My brother, Julius,” he replied, gesturing with his drink.

“Julius,” the dragoness repeated, her accent slicing off the J so that his name came out more like Ulius. “He is one of your youngest brothers, then? Or did Bethesda clutch again while I wasn’t paying attention?”

Ian and Julius winced in unison. No Heartstriker liked to be reminded of their mother’s ridiculous naming system, or the reason such a thing was required. Most dragonesses who chose to dedicate the enormous amount of magic required to bring new dragons into existence laid no more than two clutches of eggs in their entire lives, usually with five hundred years or more in between. Bethesda had laid ten, once with fewer than fifty years between broods. This fecundity had made her something of a legend among the other dragon clans, and to help her keep track of her unprecedented number of children, she’d named each clutch alphabetically. A names for her first, B for the second, and now finally down to J. At least the new dragoness hadn’t called their mother Bethesda the Broodmare, or Ian and Julius would have been honor-bound to attack, and that wouldn’t have ended well for anyone.

“No,” Ian said crisply, setting down his drink. “We’re still on J. But as you can see, he’s decidedly non-threatening. No guile I’ve witnessed, but I’m led to believe he’s not an idiot. Just soft.”

“Soft?” The dragoness said this the same way a human would say
leprous
.

“Non-aggressive,” Ian clarified. “But clever in his own way, I think. And if he fails, my mother will kill him, so motivation won’t be an issue.”

Julius knew better than to offer his opinion to this summation. He was used to powerful dragons talking about him like he wasn’t there. Still, he didn’t like the way the female was eying him now. Family would threaten him all day, but no Heartstriker would risk Bethesda’s wrath by actually killing him. This foreign dragon, on the other hand, was studying him like she was trying to decide which of his organs would make the best hat.

“I think you may be right,” she said at last. “He will do well enough.” With that, she sat down next to Ian and turned to Julius like she hadn’t just been ignoring him for the last few minutes. “I am Svena, daughter of the Three Sisters. Ian assured me you will be of assistance.”

She paused like she was waiting for a reply, but Julius couldn’t manage more than a choking sound. The Three Sisters were among the oldest and most powerful dragons left in the world. They were so magical, legend had it that they’d created their eggs one at a time using only their own power, no male consort needed. The offspring of this unconventional arrangement, all daughters, were in turn some of the most mysterious and feared dragons alive, which meant that Julius was sitting across the table from, at minimum, a thousand-year-old dragoness who was also one of the Heartstriker clan’s sworn enemies. The Three Sisters
hated
Bethesda, and as far as he knew, the feeling was mutual. What was Ian
doing
?

He glanced at his brother to ask just that, but Ian was shooting him a lethal caliber version of the
shut up and play along
look. So, with effort, Julius turned back to the dragoness, who he now knew for a fact could turn him into a gooey puddle with a snap of her fingers, and plastered what he hoped was an obliging smile across his face. “What kind of assistance did you have in mind?”

She pursed her pale lips. “It is a delicate matter. My youngest sister, Katya, has run away from home. I want you to bring her back.”

Julius blinked. “You want me to find your sister?”

“Not
find
,” Svena snapped—a literal
snap
of
her too-white teeth that gave Julius the distinct impression Svena didn’t spend much time in her human form. “I know
where
she is, but she is being headstrong and difficult. I have indulged her as long as possible, but I cannot afford to do so any further. Unlike your clan where a dragon might vanish for years before someone notices, there are only twelve of us. If our mothers discover Katya’s absence, things will become difficult. I need a neutral third party to stop her foolishness and bring her home before this happens.”