Pack of Strays (The Fangborn Series Book 2) (23 page)

“I have not spoken to anyone in decades. I am very unused
to it
.”

“Um … thank you, this is better. You are … Quarrel.”

He—definitely a he—seemed to ponder. “Yes, sometimes. That is a name I’ve used, the one I gave you.”

Well, that got me nothing.
“You wanted me to come here?”

Quarrel stretched his forelimbs, still groggy from sleep. I nervously watched his talons—gleaming and sharp as polished
daggers
—extend and retract has he settled back. “You woke me with your dreams and your fear.”

I shifted, trying not to do the weasel dance. “Sorry.”

“No, I recall my own early days. I understand much more now, but then it was beyond explanation. I felt the urge to find objects and knew there was great power in them. But what it was for,
I did
n’t know.”

“Do you know now?”

“More. Not enough. There’s more than me in the world,”
Quarrel
said. “Just a few of us, but we’re in contact occasionally. Some go dark, some brighten for a while. Mostly we sleep. Here: You can hear for yourself.”

Bellowing voices sounded like they were right down in my gut. I put my hands over my ears, but the noise was coming from inside my head. It wasn’t until I actually fell to my knees that Quarrel seemed to notice he was liquefying me from inside again.

“My apologies,” he said hastily. “I am overeager in my
loneliness
.”

I was left with a vague sense of geography where these other things … 
dragons
 … were. Flashes of lives lived concealed near light, alive as long as they wanted … something.

“Forgive me,” I stammered. “What … what are you, Quarrel?”

“I am of your Family, of course. Surely you must see the
similarities
?”

It was ridiculously obvious, all at once. The venom that con
fused and burned, and the healing and regeneration, the
serpentine
aspect. “You were a vampire once, weren’t you?”

The dragon snorted. “I was once one of the healing warriors, born to the Fang. That word … ‘vampire’? It is very new, isn’t it? Only three or four centuries? But I have heard it. It is what I was.”

I’d been told the oldest vampire in the world was three
centuries
old. How many centuries older was Quarrel? “And now you are a dragon? Vampires grow into dragons?”

“No, no, only those of us who have acquired … tools, such as you have. In the old days, one of us would be sighted, and then some idiot king would chuck a load of virgins at us to keep us from leveling the village. Well, we didn’t want them and sent the
youngsters
on their way. Of course, this vexed the kings, who looked like right idiots, so they ended up killing the youngsters themselves. Then they’d do it every year, or every five or every seven, only to save face! Humans.”

Quarrel snorted his distaste. “So then I’d
have
to end the kings, which reinforced the idea that we ate humans and required tribute.”

Dragons can shrug. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

I shook my head. “I can’t believe the records, our own history, is so sparse. I’ve never heard any of this.”

Quarrel sighed, and the difference in our ages was so immense that it was as if we were only shadows to each other, barely visible across a foggy chasm. “Although we can be long lived, so many of us are not: Most of us have fallen in our work, slaughtered by evil. We, for the most part, as a people, have little time for other than our duty as the better angels of ourselves direct us. We born to the Fang were not made for introspection or research.

“Eventually, we grow weaker, and if we don’t die, we try to find a place where we won’t be tormented by the Call to Change. The chase of evil becomes … meaningless. Anyway, that’s me. So if you don’t mind—tell me about
you
.”

I felt the great weight of Quarrel’s gaze and shifted from foot to foot. Something told me not to say more than necessary. “Oh, I’m just … Zoe. Zoe Miller.”

“You’ve acquired many tools, I see, for one so young, Zoe
Miller
. You’ve been in many battles?”

Tools? Quarrel was talking about the artifact jewels I’d had been harboring. “I don’t know what they are. I know they are
Fangborn
artifacts.” Quarrel’s jeweled scales were the same as covered parts of my own body.

Was I turning into a dragon? I realized I was in the early stages of matching Quarrel’s thick plates of jeweled armor.

“The air is suddenly filled with voices asking about these
relics
, most of which have been ignored or misunderstood for generations.” Quarrel shook his head. “Another rush to acquire the unknowable. They confer power—you must have guessed that. They enhance you and enslave you, make you both more and less. I am here, at my most mighty, less than useless. I starve but I do not die while the sun lives. I am in constant communication but alone, outcast and alone.”

I thought,
You are full of information, but beyond crackerdog batshit … 

“I had been alone for centuries, but for a brief moment a few decades ago. Five or six? It no longer matters. I had been quietly dying and dreaming, when another younger … vampire … came to me. Said that cursed, confounded, contrary Order of Nicomedia was looking for me.”

I started. “The Order? Looking for you?”

“The Most Holy and Venerable Order of St. Michael and
St. Geo
rge of Nicomedia.” I could hear Quarrel’s distaste. “I personally find the name offensive on many levels, given our own understanding of the history of both saints. Nothing holy about the Order, though they do go back in history at least to the time of the crusades, and I think much earlier. They come from a variety of nations and classes—they’d have to, if they go back so far. The one thing that unites them is their hatred and fear of those born to the Fang.”

“Yes! They have been on my trail, and after others of us!”

A shiver of scales, a faint rattle and clatter. “I hate to think of it, for one so young. Their brutality is only equaled by their stupidity. The Order makes us out to be monsters and demons, when w
e ar
e the ones guarding humans from the demons inside themselves. I would happily eradicate them, if I could. But of course, that is my age speaking.”

He paused, digging through memory, his claws raking meditatively through discarded jewels. “The young one, who helped me move to escape them, is he still with us? His name was curious and arrogant. Edward … King? No. Edward Knight.”

The blood drained from my face. “Senator Knight? Moved you? Why would he?”

And I remembered the vision of Knight talking with Porter at the asylum, his reference to religion and discoveries in caves. That’s why he broke with Porter. He was protecting Quarrel and his kind. If the Order knew about dragons … “He once worked with someone who served the Order, I believe,” I said.

Quarrel huffed. “I am sorry to hear it. He did me a service I have not been able to repay. There are too many who know about our kind now, thanks to the Order. I have sent more than one away, with false memories, in recent weeks. Or maybe longer. My
memory
 …” He trailed off.

“Well, both he and the Order have been eager to learn about this.” I held up my wrist. “Tell me about the tools. How do I access them? Control them?”

Quarrel seemed to be tasting the air with a long, scarlet, forked tongue. Perhaps he was inspecting me. His eyes were half-lidded as in deep thought; he nodded. “When you have earned more, you will find it easier. They are all part of a plan. How you discover that depends on how worthy you are. How deadly you are. Scattered across the worlds, across time, impulses born in each mind to create … a part of a whole, yet to be completed. Some survive, some do not; yet all contain a spark. Accumulation makes them stronger, the intent clearer.”

I hesitated. “Could
you
be a little clearer?”

“The more you own, the more you are owned. Your will focused on the accumulation of tools. I failed to become what you might yet be. You will become
the
Fangborn,
the
Hellbender, and none will be able to curtail your power but your Makers.”

I did have the urge to put all else aside to find the next
artifact
. It became easier to sense them. Large fragments, whole
pieces
 … and that would explain the reason I smelled different to the others, that I could sometimes put off the Call to Change. And makers? My makers were dead, so far as I knew. My mother, just this past spring; and my father was practically a myth.

“My own armor grows and sheds off—”

Which explained the idea of dragons hoarding treasure, I thought giddily. The heaps of shed jewels and precious metals would accumulate.

“—and is replaced. It keeps me alive, long past when I should have died. I sit and ponder the tools and what they might do. It is an empty sort of existence, a matter of theory and thought, occasionally communicating with the Makers. I miss the flesh.”

Quarrel sat up with alarming and unexpected speed, with a scatter of stones that winked in the light. “You know, I haven’t had anything to eat, apart from the odd bird or rat, in quite some time. Not that I need much; the sun is what feeds me these days.”

Eternal life, without eternal youth,
I thought. This, combined with the notion that eventually the jewels would cover me, make me a slave to them, as they were driving me now, made me break into a cold sweat.

Quarrel interrupted my thoughts. “But I imagine I could sustain myself a very long time by assuming your energy. Perhaps enough to stir my will to leave from here. Begin life again. It would not be unheard of. I might even take your place.”

I felt a tug and a sudden urge to examine the treasure on which Quarrel sat. I stepped forward—

I shook myself. Quarrel was trying to compel me to move to him. I gritted my teeth against the impulse, felt it snap.

Quarrel was getting hungry. I could feel his interest growing.

Time to go. Next time it might be dragon’s venom, not merely the suggestion of a seductive voice …

I turned, tripped, and was up, fast as a cat. A werewolf sc
aredy-c
at. A rattle, metallic tinkling; Quarrel was trying to heave himself up, his legs too atrophied to hold his bulk.

He couldn’t get down the tube, but I had no idea how far his mental influence or his venom would go.

I ran like a werewolf with her tail on fire, into the darkness.

Picking up my old trail, I followed it with an eager nose. The faster I went, the farther behind the dragon fell.

Chapter Seventeen

At last the tunnel opened up to the glorious light of a clouded and rainy day. The heavy drops were falling fatter and faster now, and I only slowed to make sure I didn’t disturb the bees at the spring at the mouth of the cave. I was driven on now, not by fear, but by desire for fresh air, the sound of wind and rain and hive, the temporary respite from the overwhelming ideas that Quarrel had presented me.

The moment after I had held out against the hungry predations of a dragon, it wouldn’t do to break my neck on the loose stones, made less stable by the rain. I slowed, savoring the ordinary noises and smells: wild herbs, rain on dusty rock, pine pitch.

The wind changed, and my world turned upside down. One scent rose above all the others, or maybe it was that I’d made it my goal in life to seek it out. All that mattered now was that I follow that scent back to its source.

The scent I’d picked up belonged to Dmitri Parshin.

Enough of riddles; the intangible questions Quarrel raised in me paled beside solid vengeance. There was only one thing on
my m
ind.

He has it coming.

My footsteps had grown faster, nearly silent. Rain fell in a heavy curtain, and the first bolt of lightning threatened to tear open the sky. The thunder did not silence the buzzing blanket of bees.

Around a clump of pines, I saw him. Dmitri Parshin stood up. Still the same air of arrogance and intimidation coming off him, still the same chemically jacked muscles. He should have been running or pulling out a bazooka or calling in an air strike when he recognized me. Instead, he stood there, arms crossed, black hair plastered down by the rain, nodding like this was all as he’d expected.

Good. He should be expecting this. But I knew he couldn’t have thought about it as much as I had in the past few months.

I vaulted over a boulder. He stood his ground. When I landed, I took two steps, splashed into a puddle, then hurled myself at him.

I landed, knocking Dmitri downhill. I skidded on his chest, riding him like a sled. That rocky ground had to hurt. I scrambled up into his guard, lowering my muzzle so he could see my eyes, a low growl obliterated by the rumble of thunder. My ears flattened back with anger and the noise of the heavens splitting.

It was like the weather elements were following my lead.

“Did you see it?” he asked in heavily accented English, his gray eyes wide, not with fear but obsession. “Did you find
it
?”

Of all the things he could have asked, that was not even on my top ten. “What?”

“The dragon! I’d heard rumors through the Order that it’s ne
ar here.
”

“I’m here to kill you.” I wiped the water from my eyes. “Never mind the dragon.”

“You must not do this, Zoe,” he shouted over the rain. It had drenched him, plastering his black hair down against his head and making a muddy wreck of his clothing.

“You’re right,” I said. “I should save you for Danny. But I’ll take the slightly safer route of doing it right now myself.”

He had the gall to appear frustrated with me. “You can’t do this; it’s too dangerous—”

I laughed. “I’m not going to spend as much time making you die as you deserve.”

Dmitri’s face was all wrong: I saw frantic worry, not fear or resistance. “You little fool!
I
don’t matter. You can’t risk yourself!”

“I have no intention of letting you hurt me.” He couldn’t move, not with my knees jammed up under his armpits, my feet pinning his thighs. I had one clawed hand pulling his head back and one poised to rip out his throat.

“You can’t indulge in this childish vendetta—”

“Childish? Give me one good reason, Parshin.” I leaned in close to his face; one false move, and I could easily tear it off. I wanted to smell his fear, I wanted him to know something of what he’d forced on me, and, more importantly, on Danny. I snapped—too close—and caught his ear. He made no noise, didn’t even flinch.

The blood welled up, and something didn’t quite capture my attention. I had bigger things to worry about.

“What do you know about the Order? There’s about two
hundred
of their creatures massing, ready to attack Boston. As if that weren’t enough, I’m not at all certain that Will and the
Steubens
will be able to stop them, and I’m pretty sure this fucking alien bracelet is sucking my soul away, one bad habit at a time. And yes, I did run into a vision straight out of every mythology going, and it wanted to eat me. So give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you. I could use a laugh today.”

“You have me. And I’m a changed man.”

I laughed again; a werewolf laughing is no joking matter. I managed to keep myself from a full-on howl, but grinning only exposed both rows of teeth, and my wolfish chuckle should have had him filling his shorts.

I leaned down to his face, sunburnt, scarred, rough features. “I’ll believe you’re a changed man when pigs fly. Even if you were, what possible use could you be to me? You’re a wanted man, a criminal, a murderer, a thief.”

“And yet, I’m changed.
You
changed me.”

It’s harder to snort, fangself, but I did a good job of it. “Okay, say I let you live. What can you do for me? I’m all about the practicalities, at the moment.”

“You said there was an attack massing? I can give you an army. Four hundred men, fully trained, fully equipped.”

I gaped.

Dmitri might claim to have changed, but he was still
Dmitri
. His eyes showed smirking satisfaction. “Yes. An army, at your command. Is that practical enough for you, Zoe Miller?”

There was no sense in trying to restrain him. Dmitri Parshin
wanted
to be here. I followed him down the path; small rocks tumbling down heralded our approach. He limped slightly, and I suspected that the wound I’d given him in the spring was troubling him. A sharpened trowel driven through your thigh and into your femur would probably require surgery, I thought, pleased with the idea.

Vee and Toshi looked up curiously—was this the person I’d come all this way to see? Was this the figure of my visions?

Danny sprang to his feet when he recognized Parshin. Bees were forgotten now. “Zoe! What the
fuck
?”

It’s not that I’d forgotten Danny or his potential reaction to seeing Dmitri again. I rather optimistically imagined I’d have more time to frame my arguments.

“It’s not what you think” is what I came up with.

Danny got in my face in the most aggressive, unfamiliar way possible. His cheeks burned red, his hand clutched his head in disbelief. “I
think
I see the man who kidnapped—and beat me in front of you—unharmed! I
think
he’s failing to bleed out in a puddle of his own body fluids. Tell me
how
it’s not how I think!”

I could have stood almost anything else but the look Danny was giving me. I’d never been on the receiving end of his pure contempt before, and it took me aback. It scared me, worrying about what this might do to us. And it made me second-guess myself.

Surprisingly, that made me happy. Second-guessing myself was reassuring, reminded me that I cared what other people thought of me. That I was willing to risk an argument with Danny to try to do what was right.

“Look, I know I’ve said the Fangborn claim to never be wrong couldn’t possibly be true, but in this case …” I shook my head. “Danny, I’ve tasted his blood.” The recent memory clarified. “And I’ve seen it. Back on Delos and at Ephesus and just now when I accidentally on purpose bit his ear. It’s different. It … tastes and looks different.”

The lack of emotion on Danny’s face frightened me; I’d never seen anything like it. I began to seriously doubt anything I could say was going to change his feelings.

Vee stood up and stepped beside Danny, her face grave. I saw her fingers twitch, and knew she was thinking of her gun.

Dmitri didn’t look particularly changed. He looked not quite bored, but unimpressed with Danny’s ire. “I did what I did. I am a different person now. I will not apologize for my actions, but I will say I am sorry that you were hurt.” He cleared his throat, looked as uncomfortable as a man with a galactic sense of his own machismo can: “I no longer have the … urge, the instinct, to behave quite the same way as I did before.”

“Good.” Danny hauled off and landed a punch on Dmitri’s nose that made
my
eyes water and took my breath away. I heard a crunch of cartilage and a grunt—nothing more—from Dmitri. Danny was going to follow up, but Dmitri’s fist closed around
Danny’s
. Vee and I moved in, ready to come to Danny’s defense. Toshi stood, still uncertain about what was happening.

“Stop this!” I said, holding onto Dmitri and Danny by the wrists. “
I’ll
be the one to finish this, if you two—”

“The first, I give you,” Dmitri said to my cousin, ignoring me. “Your right, as a man. Anything after that, and …” He shook his head, tching in a way that sent renewed rage through Danny’s
features
. I gave him a little jerk. “No,” Dmitri Parshin continued. “I said I no longer have the urge. I didn’t say I didn’t have the will or the ability for violence.”

Their eyes still locked. “Danny!” I shook him again.
“Please.”

For a disastrous moment, I thought he wasn’t going to listen, that I’d have to go wolfy and take a chunk out of both of them.

“Zoe,” Danny said finally, never taking his eyes off Parshin. “Make it good.”

I held up my hands slowly, eying them warily, ready to jump in if one of them tried anything. Dmitri let go, which surprised me, and stepped back. A cease-fire as fragile as spun sugar.

I spread my hands. “Look, it’s not like I’m a vampire or anything, but the bracelet … back at Ephesus, when Dmitri was—” I didn’t want to say, “trying to kill me,” afraid that would set Danny off again. “During the battle at Ephesus, Pandora’s Box … showed me things. I didn’t get it all because, well, we didn’t exactly speak the same language. Plus, there were all these bullets and people screaming. But in trying to protect myself from Dmitri, I reached out through the vessel and … repaired him.”

Danny had heard all this before. Dmitri, on the other hand, never knew my side of that moment. I was so used to his outright aggression or poker face that seeing him struggle with
emotion
—disbelief, confusion, recognition, awe—might have been
funny
if I hadn’t been trying to keep him and Danny from killing e
ach othe
r.

“Keep talking, Zo,” Danny said in a monotone.

I nodded. “When I found him a half hour ago, my first reaction was to kill him.”

“See?” Danny said. “So why is
my
reaction wrong?”

“No, Danny, my first
reaction
. Human reaction, human
emotion
.
Not ‘I felt the Call to Change,’ not ‘Fangborn instinct.’
Zoe
emotion,
Zoe
response.” I shook my head again. “I
changed
him. Nothing in him drives me to eradicate him. He’s not … 
evil
.”

“Your … cousin is right; the first thing she did was to draw blood.” He gestured to his ear, where the blood was crusted now. Then he ruined the moment by smirking again. “But how … binary you are. Good and bad, black and white, one thing or another. So unsophisticated.”

Danny made an “I told you so” face: Dmitri had just disproved my point about him being a new man.

“I didn’t say he wasn’t still an asshole.” I turned on Dmitri and poked my finger into his chest. “To quote: I don’t have the urge to kill you on sight. But like you, I still have the ability, and don’t you ever,
ever
forget that. You are still on probation, pending …”

“Pending my convincing you I can give you what you want. I give you my parole—you understand the true meaning of t
hat wo
rd?”

Danny, whose knowledge of languages was vast, spat out a
flurry
of furious Russian. Dmitri turned nearly purple, and obviously cursing him back, lunged for him.

I shoved Danny aside, stepped between them, and drove my fist into Dmitri’s gut. It didn’t so much stop as distract him.

“Dan!” Vee shouted, truly alarmed now. Even Toshi got ready to jump in.

“Knock it off, you two!” I said. “I’m warning you …”

Danny finally looked at me. “You couldn’t have taken the ‘
asshole
’ out while you were fixing him, Zoe? Ordinarily, I’d leave neutering animals to a professional, but I will happily take a crack at it if you don’t—”