Bronte gave him a pout sure to make him horny. “Now, you’re hurting my feelings.”
“No, I liked having you there, but dragon magick passes through water. The smaller the body of water, the more intact the magick.”
“You know,” Zachary said, “I didn’t need to know that you two shared a bath this morning, especially not how much you enjoyed it, perv.”
Bronte raised a hand to her hip. “Zachary, you know my bathroom connects to his; you know I was in there. You’re hardly innocent. Spare me the dramatics.”
“Fine. Now tell me these cats do
not
have wings.”
“They do. And there’s a tiny green guardian dragon flying around you who blows colored smoke.”
Darkwyn nodded. “That’s how he tests people to see if they’re safe.”
“What color is unsafe?” Bronte asked. “Now that I can see him, I’ll be able to tell if any of our guests are Sanguedolce’s men.”
“Black smoke means evil intent.”
“Jagidy’s smoke isn’t black around Scorch right now. It’s green. So Scorch isn’t Killian?”
“I’m not quite sure. But Scorch is scary. Watch what you say around her. And green smoke means neither good nor bad, like for people who don’t give a bustard’s ear about us, or in this case, I’m guessing it means that Killian is, at this minute, doing her evil deeds elsewhere.”
Zachary waved his hands back and forth over the cats’ backs. “So Roger Rudder is right about supernaturals coming through the veil?”
“He is, but he sounds like a jerk when he says it, doesn’t he? He’s been stalking Vivica, but my brother Jaydun is protecting her. She helps all of us who come through. She’s like the gatekeeper and the best judge of character I know.”
“What other color smoke should I look for?” Bronte asked.
“Red smoke is celebratory. Purple is for love, which is why Jagidy blows purple your way. Yellow means good intentions or good people.”
“What was with the rainbow after he fell in the tub?”
“The water he swallowed probably screwed up his ‘fire to smoke’ proportions for a bit.”
“I know I’m out of my twelve-year-old mind for asking, but is Jagidy a real dragon?”
“Are you a real boy?” Darkwyn raised a questioning brow. “Yes, Jagidy’s real. He’s an elder, a lech of a dragon, the way he chases Bronte, but he’s real.”
“He’s not the only chaser where Bronte’s concerned,” Zachary mumbled as Jagidy flew invisibly around him blowing yellow smoke.
“Andra, our sorceress,” Darkwyn told Zachary, “shrinks the elders to get them here, one with each of us. It’s like repurposing them. Preserves their strength and ability to travel, and extends their lives. Otherwise they wouldn’t survive the trip or they’d die on the island. We learned about the possibility when Whyzind got caught up in the spell with Bastian.”
Darkwyn turned on a dime. “Bastian’s place! That’s where we can have our wedding, in the apple orchard at the Dragon’s Lair. You can meet my family. I’ll call my brother Bastian right now.”
“I can’t wait to bounce dragon babies on my knee,” Zachary mumbled facetiously. “Hey, do you hear that noise?” Zachary followed the sound to her balcony. “You’re not going to get away for a wedding today,” he shouted from the bedroom. “Fangs for the Memories hasn’t opened yet but there are like a hundred tourists blocking the sidewalk and road to get in. Roger Rudder is out there interviewing customers, and he doesn’t seem to be working alone. That psychologist who goaded Darkwyn is filming Rudder’s interviews.”
“Guess I didn’t do such a good job of making Roger look like an idiot,” Darkwyn said, standing back while looking out at the crowd.
“Roger makes Roger look like an idiot,” Zachary said. “If we try to leave here today, to go to Bastian’s, those hounds of hell will follow. Think how the public would like attending your wedding. Vampiress marries Vampire Dragon. Story at eleven.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
“Last night, a Master Vampire,” Darkwyn said hours
later. “Today, a waiter.”
“I’ve never seen Bite Me overflow like this,” one of the waitresses said as they stood waiting for their customers’ orders to be filled. “I guess it’s a good thing?”
“I am not sure.” Darkwyn looked around. “I assumed that waiting tables would be easy. But breakfast has run into lunch, and lunch into dinner, with no breaks in the crowd.”
“Even our Vampiress is waiting tables.”
“I am forming a great respect for waitpersons,” Darkwyn said. “Thank you for working overtime today.”
The waitress grabbed her plates and went to distribute them.
He and Bronte had been working beside the regular staff all day, to keep customer flow at a bearable pace.
Customers loved meeting the Vampire Dragon in person. He shook more hands than he took orders, but he tried to help.
“Are you eating blood pudding?” Bronte asked when she found him taking a break in the supply room.
“It is also called blood sausage. Yes, I am starving.”
“That’s made with real blood, you know.”
“I know,” he said. “Oddly enough, this one is called Boudin and is made in Canada. And this soup is blood soup. Hey, don’t blame me. It’s your menu. Try some, it’s delicious.”
“No, thanks. Eat, before your soup clots.” She turned from his offer of a spoonful. “I ate it as a kid, before I knew what it was.” She shivered and he put down his fork to rub her arms, and pull her close.
“Want a sip of my decoffinated coffee?” He practiced his wink on her. “When I was a dragon, I chased supper and ate it when and where I caught it. Get the picture?”
“Yuck. Yes, I get it.”
“Do not worry, I will brush my teeth before I kiss you.”
“And I’ll find a spell to erase my memory of your former eating habits.
Yeesh!
Oh, look at the time. I have to go and change my clothes, turn into the real Vampiress, so I’ll be ready to open Drak’s for the vamps. I’ll be right back.”
The pub had a line of its own with a door spotter who let two people in when two left, or three or five, whatever. Darkwyn had learned to respect and appreciate maximum capacity laws. It saved on havoc and bar brawls. Not to mention its original purpose, the safety of customers in case of fire.
Given this turn of events, Darkwyn wished he had landed on earth in a closet with the door shut, or his mouth stapled, at the least. If he knew then what he knew now, he would probably still be there, so no one could learn where he came from.
Then again, the universe meant him for Bronte. Smart universe. He would be less than whole without her. He guessed he landed in the right place. Though, with his misplaced honesty, he might have given Killian more power than he would like her to have. Worse, he had promised to take on Bronte’s enemies but didn’t yet know who they were.
He supposed things could be worse, but he wasn’t certain how.
A few minutes, or hours, later, as he grabbed napkins and condiments, Zachary came running into the supply room. “After the morning news,” the boy said, out of breath, “Roger Rudder got an anonymous tip about the day you got here. Now he’s asking everyone in line if they were in the pub when you rolled in behind the bar. Your news video did go viral, by the way, and he’s asking for witnesses online, too. Darkwyn, do you hear what I’m saying? People are answering him and telling him all about it.” The boy frowned. “Naked? You stood in public, naked?”
“I had just been turned from a dragon into a man. Dragons don’t wear clothes. They wear scales, which fell off. Go back outside, Zachary, and walk the tourist line, pay attention to what people tell Rudder, but try to stay out of his sight. I’m calling Vivica.”
“No need,” said Vivica, the owner of Works Like Magick coming in behind him, slamming down her purse. “I left my boat in Cat Cove and snuck in the back door.”
Darkwyn took a deep breath. “I suppose that means you can’t help?”
“It means I was right. You left Works Like Magick before you learned enough. I said before you left to be circumspect about your situation. Why didn’t you listen?”
“Circumspect! That’s the word I was supposed to look up. So being circumspect means shutting your mouth about your background?”
Vivica’s sigh contained a bit of a growl. “Pretty much. Next time I get a problem student, he or she is staying longer. Not that I’m saying
I told you so
.”
“But you
are
.”
“Well, this is serious. And I did warn you that someone could get hurt, someone other than you, and there were a million things in my head I needed to say. If you had stayed and let us take it lesson by lesson, maybe—”
“I get it,” Darkwyn said. “This is my fault and I will make it better.”
“Let’s say we’re both at fault and move on. Is everybody okay?”
“Yes, so far. More or less.” Other than Zachary and Bronte being sick with worry about being found, heaven knew why.
“So far so good, then. I had to come in through the back because Roger Rudder’s been stalking me, again. I don’t want him to know that I’m anywhere near you.”
“No inviting him to the wedding, then?”
“Wedding. Right. Here’s your paperwork, by the way. You and Bronte are getting married tonight, in the small window of time between closing to tourists and opening for vampires. I went to see Ogden and he needs an evening away from his brother. He’s going to come and fill in as Master Vampire for the night. After the wedding, if you and Bronte want to take a short honeymoon, I’ll play Vampiress.”
“You think of everything,” Darkwyn said. “So in which closet will we marry?”
Vivica chuckled. “It won’t be quite that covert. I think you’d be okay in Bronte’s apartment or out by the water. The fairgrounds, along Cat Cove, are fenced off from the road and get shut down between shifts at that time, right? They’re out of camera range and away from Rudder’s stalking soul.”
Vivica eyed Darkwyn. “You made the decision to marry as fast as you left Works Like Magick. Be careful your actions don’t come back to bite you in your fine dragon butt.”
“Does that refer to his marrying
me
? And that butt is mine, thanks.” Bronte hugged Vivica and made an exaggerated sad face at him over her shoulder. “I’d like to run away for a honeymoon,” she said. “But we can’t with this mess. Whimper.”
Darkwyn fell deeper in love.
Love?
When had lust turned to love? “We could take Zachary with us to keep him safe,” he said to cool his thoughts, despite the brilliance of the idea.
Vivica rolled her eyes. “Congrats, by the way. Darkwyn’s a bit ADD—doesn’t finish his homework—but he’s a good man.”
Darkwyn ogled his future wife, her evening’s corset and mask violet, like her hair and eyes.
Nice.
She saw his regard and looked down at herself. “Does this dress make me look dead?” She chuckled.
He did not.
A premonition hit, followed by shock, denial, then a wash of fear. He pulled Bronte against him, so his shudder became hers. “Don’t joke, Bronte, not even about your vampire persona.”
“Okay, husband-to-be, if you feel that strongly. But this slut dress, purple patent leather boots, fishnets, violet mask, and corset—not exactly my dream wedding dress.”
“You’re gorgeous,” Darkwyn whispered against her ear, kissing her velvet lobe.
“Earth to Darkwyn,” Vivica said.
Warmth rose up his neck. “Vivica, I don’t suppose you have a plan to get rid of the vultures out there?”
“You suppose wrong. I have a plan to confuse and disillusion them. A plan I’ve already put into action.”
Bronte caught up slowly, her eyes widening from dreamy bride to stark reality. “What plan?”
“Bastian and Jaydun are out front, dressed like vampires, claiming to be your dragon brothers.”
Darkwyn gave his acclimator a double take. “Which they are.”
“The crowd doesn’t know that. Jay and Bastian are doing fakey magick and passing out leaflets for some of the other Salem tourist attractions where my clients work.”