Vampire Dragon (19 page)

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Authors: Annette Blair

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Paranormal, #General

BOOK: Vampire Dragon
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Inside Bite Me, before it opened, Bronte stood beside
Zachary in the pub’s dark recesses to watch Darkwyn approach Roger Rudder and the psycho sidekick who’d goaded Darkwyn into talking last night.
Lila and Scorch followed Darkwyn down the Phoenix porch steps to the sidewalk. They were her cats, yes, but they adored Darkwyn. She could relate, though if he screwed this up . . .
She spelled a silent plea to Darkwyn and the universe for positive results:
“Stand strong, back straight.
Questions are to bait;
Count to ten and wait.
 
 
Ruffle not a hair.
Show not a care.
Truth bends; be aware.
 
Twist Rudder’s tongue,
So mote it be done.
This, I will, harm it none.”
The press held mikes out to Darkwyn as he arrived, but the minute she finished her spell,
fizzle
and
hiss
! Cartoon-like fireworks popped at Roger Rudder’s feet, sounding like cereal on steroids. Or microphone interference. Good, he looked like an idiot, jumping around like he needed a men’s room.
Darkwyn raised his chin and waited while the journalist danced to her tune, an idiot doing a fast tiptoe through the tulips. Could only Rudder see her wonky spell? If so, it half worked.
“Well,” Zachary said. “Whatever spell you cast, you put a little fear of magick into the loser. Rudder, I mean, not Darkwyn.”
She squeezed the boy’s shoulders. “Shush.”
After Darkwyn read the statement and put her script in his pocket, he picked up the cats and continued to shake his head as if refusing to answer questions. “Good man,” Bronte said. “Now get out of there.”
“Did you ever hear of a cat that glowed in the dark?” Zachary asked as he opened a bottle of whiskey and held it beneath his nose, his sigh filled with regret.
Bronte took the bottle and put a stopper in it. “There is no breed of cat that glows in the dark.”
“I didn’t think so.”
“Why hasn’t Darkwyn walked away yet?” Bronte asked no one in particular.
“You really like him don’t you?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Are you going to marry him?”
“Probably.”
“He’s that good?”
“Will you at least try and act like a twelve-year-old? We’re not alone anymore. You’re not very good at hiding that old soul around the house, in case I never mentioned it.”
“Why start now?”
“Darkwyn’s not as simple as Ogden. And if I marry him, it’s because he can protect us.”
“I’m glad Ogden’s recovering. I especially like that he kept to himself. I wish Darkwyn would. Can he be trusted?”
“Not if he just answered a question, which is what it looks like.”
“Are you evading my question?”
“No. No, I’m not. Yes, Darkwyn can be trusted. He came highly recommended by Vivica, trouble free, healthy as a . . . dragon . . . and he’s got a story as astonishing as yours, and, well, I have good instincts. I’d stake my life on the fact that he can be trusted.”
“You
are
staking your life on it.”
“Darkwyn Dragonelli may be the best break we’ve ever had.”
“That’s not hard. He would be our
first
break. My mother was the lucky one, dying young.”
Bronte’s eyes filled. “She was my sister. Do you mind?” Bronte said. “I’m selfish enough to wish she had survived your birth.”
“Look,” Zachary said, “your dragon’s coming back and the press vans are leaving.”
“Goddess, he’s gorgeous,” she said. “He takes my breath away.”
“You
love
him.”
“Of course not. In lust with, maybe. It’s only been a few days. But seriously, when’s the last time I ever stumbled across a gentle man?”
“A dragon nicknamed Black Ice? Does he breathe fire? And if he does, wouldn’t that melt his ice?”
“You know, he does have the hottest breath.” Bronte tapped the bar. “You’re right. I’m such a loser.”
Darkwyn stepped into the dark pub and locked the door behind him. “Paperboy just came.” He placed the newspaper on the bar beside them. “I’m sorry,” he said.
Bronte picked it up. “What are you sorry for?”
Zachary ignored them, took the rolled paper from her hand, and unfolded it. “Front damned page. Nice headline: ‘Drak’s features Vampire Dragon.’ ”
“Oh no,” Bronte said. “That’s a picture of me last night on my balcony.”
Darkwyn slipped an arm around her. “I like you in that pink nightgown.”
She squeaked. “You can practically see through it.”
“That’s what I like best.”
She leaned into him. “So what are you sorry for? Can I just say, on the plus side, that at least they didn’t get a picture of us
leaping
.”
Darkwyn flipped the page over. The bottom half featured two pictures of him, one in midleap, between his balcony and hers, one between the ground and her balcony, the caption: “Vampire Dragon flies, but does he breath fire?”
“They did get a picture of you leap—oh, never mind,” Zachary added. “Euphemism. Got it.
Can
you breathe fire? Seriously.”
“Yes. Yes, I can.”
“Cut it out, both of you,” Bronte snapped. “This is a disaster, or it will be, if these pictures go viral.”
Zachary scoffed. “You don’t for one minute think they won’t?”
“Bronte,” Darkwyn said. “Don’t cry. Do you think
they
will come from Canada, if they see this?”
Zachary groaned. “Exactly how much have you told him?”
“He doesn’t know who or why or anything. He knows exactly what you heard during the green card talk at breakfast.”
“I am not invisible,” Darkwyn muttered. “Now I know how Jagidy must feel.”
Jagidy raised a clenched fist in thanks.
“Who the heck is Jagidy?” Zachary asked.
“He’s my guardian dragon. Small, green, invisible, and in love with your aunt.”
Zachary hit his ear with the heel of his hand like he had water in it and couldn’t have heard correctly. “Nothing much magickal matters at this point, I suppose,” the boy said. “Darkwyn, would you breath fire for Bronte if she needed saving?”
“Absolutely.”
Bronte rounded on her nephew. “Honestly, Zach!”
“Please call me Zachary. My dignity is at stake. Listen, if dragon man here breathes fire, I’m all for you marrying him. I’d
like
to see him to turn Sanguedolce and his henchmen into crispy critters.”
Bronte gasped. “I’ve never known you to be so bloodthirsty.”
“Yeah, well, maybe I’ve had enough of running. Truth is, they might as well have taken a gun to my mother’s head, and to both of us, as well.”
“Don’t put it past them. But that’s the jaded old man in you talking.”
“So it is.”
TWENTY-SIX
 
 
Tired of being the one with all the answers, Bronte
turned to Darkwyn. “What’s our next step?”
“First we watch the news,” Darkwyn said, “I am on in fifteen minutes. Then we plan our wedding. Then, Zachary, you and I are going to have a talk.”
“About the birds and bees?”
“No,
old man
—which I’ve heard one time too many to be a mistake.”
Zachary got his guard up. “You can’t believe—”
“I was a Roman warrior turned into a dragon. I
can
believe. I do believe.”
They sat on the sofa and turned on the TV to wait for the news.
“Darkwyn, what did you say to them?” Bronte asked. “They wouldn’t be saying ‘stay tuned for a word with Salem’s own Vampire Dragon’ if all you did was read the statement.”
“I might have attempted to discredit myself.”
“That’s bad.” She punched him in the arm. “Bad dragon!”
“
Shh
,” Zachary said. “Here’s the segment.”
“You look good on camera,” Bronte said, and Zachary rolled his eyes.
“So,” the reporter asked him. “Are you a Vampire Dragon?”
“Yes, I am. And my cats have wings and glow in the dark with a sort of prehistoric phosphorescence.”
Zachary sat forward. “I knew it!”
“The wings are invisible to you, but they’re here,” Darkwyn told the reporter. “This one is Lila, because of her lilac points. And this little kitty just might be Killian the evil Sorceress of Chaos. Hers are black leather wings. Since lightning is Killian’s specialty, and this little kitty looks a bit charred, we call her Scorch.” He waved their paws. “Wave hello to all the witches out there.”
“So, ladies and gentlemen,” the reporter said, once again dancing to her silly fake fireworks like a puppet on an invisible string. “Decide for yourself.” He wiped his brow. “This is Salem, after all, and I’ve been reporting on supernaturals coming through the veil for months. The evidence is overwhelming. Is this man one of them? Is he a man at all? Ask yourself this: Is Salem’s Vampire Dragon, Darkwyn Dragonelli, telling us the mystical truth while making it sound unbelievable to throw us off the scent? This is Roger Rudder, your eye on the veil.”
“Good going, Bronte,” Zachary said. “Your backfiring spells worked, more or less.”
“So did my brilliance. I’ll take a kiss, Bronte,” Darkwyn said. “For doing so well. Then I’ll kiss you for your spells.”
Bronte crossed the room to evade him. “Mind your manners.”
“I can’t take it,” Zachary said, jumping off the sofa. “If you two get married, I’m moving to the fourth floor. I’ll eat here, maybe, if I’m invited, but I’ll call ahead.”
Darkwyn gave her a look. “He really doesn’t sound like a twelve-year-old.”
“Look at him,” she said. “He’s a cranky kid.”
“Maybe, but as for watching what I say, heck, last week I was a dragon. How do I know what manners to watch?”
“Or how to keep your mouth shut,” Bronte mumbled.
“Or that. Nevertheless, I know a lot about protecting the people I love, so we
are
getting married.”
“You sound happy about that.” Bronte felt a little glow inside. “I’m scared.” She wasn’t kidding. “And I want a proposal.”
“I
am
happy, but I have to look up ‘proposal.’ I’m not even sure I can afford one?”
“
Ask
her, you freakadelic dragosapien. Propose marriage.”
Darkwyn shrugged, Zachary’s insults rolling off his back, charming the hex out of her.
“There’s a three-day waiting period in Salem,” Darkwyn said. “But the county clerk can waive that without a court order, with the proper paperwork, so it’s possible we could get the license
and
get married today. Vivica’s taking care of the paperwork for us. So will you . . . marry me?”
“I’m underwhelmed. How does Vivica know?”
“I called her between breakfast and meeting the press. She already has a Wiccan priestess, licensed to perform the ceremony, on standby.”
“Scorch!” Bronte said of the cat taking a tightrope walk across the top of the flat screen, wings balanced upward. “Darkwyn . . . she
does
have black leather wings. Lila, where are you?” Bronte called. “Come to mommy.”
Here came Lila, lilac lace wings bouncing as she ran. Bronte felt like she’d entered another dimension. “Why didn’t I see their wings before?”
“For the same reason you didn’t see Jagidy. You didn’t have any dragon magick.”
“Now I do?”
“I made a tactical error when I let you into my bath this morning.”

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