Gods and Swindlers (City of Eldrich Book 3) (23 page)

“B
URN IT DOWN?”
Melanie asked, in a calm voice. “How do they propose to do that? The archive is heavily protected from fire. They can’t merely light a match.”

Dustin stepped closer to the table. In the dim light, Meaghan saw the panic on his face. He glanced around the room, breathing rapidly.

She rose from her seat and steered Dustin to her vacated chair. “Breathe through your nose before you start hyperventilating. Calm down, okay? We can deal with this.”

Unless we can’t.
Meaghan shoved down her fear. Some comfort she’d be if she started hyperventilating, too. “Breathe.”

Dustin took a few measured breaths, his eyes shut.

When he seemed calmer, Meaghan asked, “How are they going to burn the archive?”

“Dragon,” Dustin squeaked. “They have a dragon.”

Terry sighed and slumped even further in his chair. “Yeah, that would do it.”

They have a dragon.
Meaghan felt the denial rise up. A part of her mind shrieked that there was no such thing as dragons, but her legs knew better. She felt the room spin and would have fallen if John hadn’t grabbed her.

“Now I gotta slay a dragon.” Terry shook his head. “I’ll have that mead now, Johnny.”

Steph sat down next to him and took his hand. He pulled her close, their momentary animosity forgotten.

“No, you won’t,” John said. “How long do we have until this happens?”

“Dawn,” Dustin said. “And he’s not the one who has to slay the dragon.” He glanced up at Meaghan. “You are.”

Meaghan burst out laughing. She couldn’t help herself. It was either that or start screaming. “Whose bright idea was that?”

“The prophecy,” Dustin said. “There’s a sword.”

Terry raised an eyebrow. “A magic sword?”

“Well, yeah,” Dustin said.

Terry shook his head. “Oh, yeah. This is gonna be great.” He glanced at Meaghan. “You believe in prophecies?”

“No,” Meaghan said in a squeaky voice, shaking her head. “And even if I did, any prophecy that says that I’m gonna kill a fire-breathing, goddamn flying dinosaur with a sword is flat-out wrong.”

Dustin looked shocked. “But you’ve read it.”

“No,” Meaghan said.
Here’s the anger.
“I haven’t. What’s the point? If it really is prophetic—which it isn’t, because there’s no such thing—then it’s gonna happen anyway, right? Why do I need to know what it says?”

“Because your enemies do,” Melanie said. “They’ll act accordingly.”

“Which means it’s not a prophecy, it’s a to-do list, and they’ll read it to justify any damn thing they want to do, which means its predictive value is zero.” Meaghan shook her head. “And there’s like half a dozen versions of the damn thing, right? Which one should I worry about?”

“But it mentions you specifically,” Dustin said, his voice rising. “It says you’re gonna die.”

“Yeah, well, news flash, everybody in this room will die, eventually, even Mr. and Mrs. Sparky here.” Meaghan pointed at them. “Right?”

“We’re getting older,” Steph said. “So, yeah, eventually, I guess.”

“So, I’ll die. Wow. Big prediction. And it doesn’t even mention me specifically, not by name.” Meaghan folded her arms and glared at Dustin. “Plus it doesn’t actually say anything about dying.”

“It says they’ll quench your vital spark.” The panicked look returned to Dustin’s face.

“That doesn’t sound like fire.” Meaghan rolled her eyes. “Quench sounds like water. The dragon’s gonna pee on me?”

Terry started laughing, a low rumble that grew louder. Within moments, he was stamping his foot and doubled over in his chair as he roared with laughter.

“It wasn’t that funny,” Meaghan said.

“No, no.” Terry wiped his eyes with his hand. “I wasn’t laughing at that. There’s a way to read that phrase that has nothing to do with death. When you make something out of iron or steel, like a blade, you heat it to make it soft enough to work with, but then once the basic shape is formed you quench it—you dunk it—in something like water or oil to cool it down fast. To harden the steel and make it strong.”

“Is that the same as tempering?” Russ asked from over at the stove. “Like tempered steel knives?”

Meaghan watched her brother work. John was right. Food was Russ’s magic and in his kitchen, nothing—not even talk of dragons and his sister’s predicted death—flustered him.

“Tempering’s the next stage in the process,” Terry said. “Quenching makes the blade hard, but brittle. You temper it by heating it back up, at lower temperatures, to soften it a bit. The goal is to find the perfect balance between strength and flexibility. You want to make it flexible enough not to snap but strong enough not to bend.”

“Then they’ve already quenched you, Meg,” Russ said. “When you went to Fahraya. We’re in the tempering phase, I think.”

Terry smiled. “Sounds a little less scary now, doesn’t it?”

Meaghan smiled back, trying to hide her panic.
Dragon. They have a dragon.

No, they say they have a dragon,
Meaghan told herself.
Not the same thing.

“How do we know they aren’t bluffing about the dragon?” she asked.

“I saw it,” Dustin said in a shaky voice. “It’s big.”

“How big?” Meaghan asked.

“Real big,” Dustin said. “You know, like in the movies.”

“How do you know it wasn’t an elf pretending to be a dragon? To screw with your head?”

“The fire was real,” Dustin said. “The dragon torched the abbot’s office. One breath in and then kaboom. You really think if elves could breathe fire, they wouldn’t want to take the credit for it instead of pretending a dragon did it?”

Meaghan nodded.
Shit. Elves I can deal with. Dragons, no.
“Good point.”

“What do we do about it?” Melanie looked at Meaghan. “Any ideas?”

Oh, loads, Mel, because I have so much experience in this area.
“Kill it?”

“How?” Melanie asked.

How the fuck should I know?

Meaghan looked at Terry. “Would a lightning strike do it?”

Terry sighed. “Yeah, probably. Assuming I can aim it, which is not exactly a sure bet.”

Steph rubbed her hand along his arm in a comforting gesture. “You were pretty precise with it when you were using it to make steel.”

“Yeah,” Terry said, “but that was different.”

“You were sober,” Steph said. “Kind of like you are now.”

Terry shook his head. “Not even close. That was the bare-knuckled version of sobriety.”

“Which means you should be better now,” John said.

Terry gave him a sideways look. “You honestly listen to all my bullshit, don’t you?”

“I do. It’s wise bullshit.”

Terry shook his head.

Focus.
The thought of having to fight a dragon kept pushing everything else out of her head.
What are they really up to? Why all the show? Beyond their usual love of drama?

“Dustin, do the fair folk want us to release their guy in the basement?” Meaghan asked.

He stared at her, a puzzled look on his face. “They didn’t ask about him.”

“Which means either they don’t give a shit about him or they want him here for some reason.” Meaghan looked at Terry. “Which one do you think?”

“If he’s as much a big shot as I suspect, he’s right where they want him to be.”

“Reconnaissance?”

Terry chewed on his lip a moment and stared into space. “That, yeah, but more to cause trouble. Unbalance us.”

“It also keeps the witches busy,” Russ said as he stirred something on the stove.

“Good point.” Meaghan looked back at Terry and was about to say more, but thought better of it. She held up her index finger and grabbed Russ’s grocery list notebook and a pen.
Time for that con
, she wrote and handed it to Terry.

He grinned and nodded. “Honey,” he said in a slightly louder voice than usual. “Let’s go back across the street. I need to get my head clear if I have to fight a dragon.” He took the pen from Meaghan and wrote,
You and John come, too.
“You got your boots on, hon? No magical short cut this time.”

“Yeah,” Steph said. “Can I borrow a coat?”

“Take mine,” Russ said. “See you later.” He stepped over to the table, read Meaghan’s note to Terry, then hugged her. “Be careful,” he whispered in her ear. “I’ll keep everyone calm over here.”

Meaghan nodded, and she and John followed Terry and Steph back out into the storm.

The wind had picked up and the snow stung as it hit her exposed face. Twilight had given way to darkness. With the power out, the night was a snowy blur, visibility reduced to no more than a couple of feet in front of them.

“Let me try something.” Terry pulled off his glove and held up his hand. Eyes shut, concentrating, he rubbed his fingers together.

The sky flashed with lightning, but all it did was light up the snowy haze and it was gone too quickly to let them get their bearings. “Hang on.” He pulled off his other glove and took several deep breaths, his face smoothing into a blank.

A spark flashed between the fingers of Terry’s upraised hand. It outlined him for a moment in blue light and then streaked across the street to a snowy mound. The snow exploded into steam and, for another moment, blue light outlined every leaf of the now-exposed holly shrub.

“Sweet.” Terry smiled, obviously pleased with himself. “I’ve never had that kind of control before.”

“Your hands are gonna freeze,” Steph said. “Come on. Before we get lost.”

The lightning left the edges of the leaves still smoldering. It wasn’t much light, but enough to guide them to the front porch.

Terry pushed open the door. Meaghan heard him stumble and crash to the floor, then she felt something sharp at her throat.

“Not one more step,” a voice hissed in her ear.

“Luka, that’s Meaghan.” Owen flipped on a flash light. “She’s the only one who could walk through your spell.” He shined the light in her face. “See?”

The blade was pulled from her throat. Luka stood next to her, a serrated bread knife in his hand. “Sorry. When the archive door slammed shut, we went into defensive mode.”

“Ankle snare?” Terry was still on the floor along with Steph and John.

“I’m no wizard,” Luka said, holding his hand out to Steph. “It’s the best I could do on short notice.”

“What happened?” Owen asked.

“Elves in the archive,” Terry said.

“With a dragon,” Steph added.

“That can’t be good.” Luka helped John to his feet. “What do they want?”

“Me,” Terry said. “And the elf that escaped. The one without the magic.”

“But not their friend in the basement.” Meaghan pulled off her coat and then put it back on. It was already getting cold in the dark house. “We have until dawn to give them up, or they say they’ll burn the archive.”

Owen sucked in a breath through his teeth. “They wouldn’t.”

“Yeah, they would,” Terry says. “Out of spite. They don’t give a shit about knowledge.”

“We need a plan,” Meaghan said. “Does the archive have any defenses?”

Luka shook his head. “Not from them now they’re inside. But they could pick us off one by one if we tried to attack.”

I can’t believe I’m about to suggest this.
“Then we need to get the dragon over here, where we’ve got a shot at killing it, and it can’t burn the archive. Make them think they’ll have the advantage if they attack us directly instead of waiting for us to come to them.”

“And we can lure them with the elf in the basement.” Luka nodded. “Feed him a narrative that will make them change their plan.”

“Exactly. We con them,” Meaghan said.

Luka smiled. “Looks like we’re all back in business.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

T
HEY HEARD THE
rumbling before they saw the lights. Through the window, they watched the flashing red and white lights materialize into one of the city’s giant orange snowplows. Behind it, traveling in the tunnel left by the giant plow blade, was Luka’s brand new pickup truck.

“Elves can’t drive, can they?” Meaghan asked as the trucks stopped in front of her house.

“Nope,” Terry said.

“Then Buzz is back and he’s brought reinforcements,” Meaghan said.

The passenger door of the snowplow cab opened and a figure stepped down. Meaghan couldn’t tell who it was under the heavy parka. Another figure climbed out, then the driver emerged. The three of them helped a fourth person climb awkwardly from the cab.

The huge belly was obvious even through heavy winter clothing.

“Oh, shit,” Meaghan said. “Kady. I’d better get over there. You guys stay here and start working on the con, okay?”

“I’m going with you,” John said. “Don’t argue.”

“Didn’t you say Buzz is part troll?” Owen asked.

“Buzz is part troll?” Luka grinned. “I thought he might be. Send him over, will you? He can help us.”

Meaghan and John struggled back across the street, the lights on the plow guiding them.

Kady stood in the swirling snow, smiling. “I’m arriving earlier than expected. I need to talk with you before I get here.” Kady’s smile turned into a scowl. “Will you let me tell her first before you start yammering at her?”