Dragon's Kiss (The DragonFate Novels Book 2) Page 11

  Sigrdrifa, the Valkyrie known as the driver to victory.

  Siegfried had been a dragon slayer, maybe the first dragon slayer ever. He’d succeeded because of Sigrdrifa’s counsel and assistance.

  Kristofer was shaken by the possibility, not only that he knew her identity but that Siegfried had been real. He’d always thought of that story as a fable.

  But his mate had lived it.

  Oblivious to his conclusion, she frowned and spoke to the corpse.

  “Speak to me,” she invited, but there was an undercurrent of command in her voice.

  “Hello, kitty,” the corpse whispered.

  Kristofer bit back a smile at the unlikely words. This dead guy was trying to pick her up? It would have been funny if it hadn’t been so absurd.

  “Who did this to you?” she demanded, her voice a little harder.

  “Hello, kitty. Here, kitty, kitty...” The dead man’s voice dropped to a sensual growl.

  It was possible that he’d been chasing a stray cat when he died, but the desire in his tone indicated that it had been a woman.

  Had he been stalking a woman when he was killed?

  Had the vampire intervened to defend her? That didn’t make sense.

  Wait. Theo had helped a vampire defending a mortal woman in moving to a new refuge. Maybe this dead guy did know something.

  “Kitty lost your phone?” the corpse taunted. “Here, kitty, kitty.” He chuckled, a dark and predatory sound that revolted Kristofer.

  “Tell me about kitty kitty,” his mate commanded.

  “Dylan’s score.” The corpse nodded with confidence, then unexpectedly started to sing. “Dylan and Kitty, sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g!”

  “Who else?” Kristofer’s mate demanded. She touched the burning red rune on his forehead, giving him a poke as if to remind him who was in charge, and the corpse twitched convulsively.

  “Kitty kitty Dylan and blood. Blood! Big guy. Fast! Noooooooooo!” The corpse screamed and fell silent. The scream echoed off the tiled walls and floor for too long before it faded.

  The rune mark disappeared, as if it had never been. It was almost impossible to believe he had spoken just a moment before.

  “The charm is fleeting,” his mate said, with obvious dissatisfaction. “And it only works once.” She shut the drawer with a flick of her wrist, her eyes blazing with annoyance. “Hello, kitty,” she muttered. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  Kristofer had gone back to the computer. Sure enough, there had been two bodies recovered at the dump—and the other one was named Dylan. He returned to his mate and showed her the number he’d written on a sticky note. “Did we look at this one?”

  She nodded tersely.

  “He’s been identified as Dylan Merriweather and came in from the dump, too.”

  But Dylan was one of the corpses burned to a crisp. They looked at him again, just to be sure. His remains were black, reduced almost to the skeleton, and the lower part of his jaw had been burned away.

  “There’s no point,” she said. “It would just be cruel. He’d want to talk but wouldn’t be able to.” She indicated the crumbling ash of what was left of his jaw.

  “But the other one must have been trying to tell us something,” Kristofer said. “Can the dead lie?”

  She nodded. “Sometimes. Not often. Mostly they’re incomprehensible. I’m not sure if it’s on purpose or not.”

  “Hello, kitty,” Kristofer repeated grimly and she sighed.

  She strode to the woman and Kristofer followed. There were no marks on her skin, no bruises or other signs of trauma.

  “Are you sure it’s this one?” he asked.

  “Exsanguination, although she doesn’t look like a vampire killed her. It said she had terminal cancer,” his mate supplied. “She’d been treated once with some success, but it was back. She was in the hospice to die.”

  Her tone had softened, as if she felt sympathy for the woman.

  “If she hadn’t been exsanguinated, no one would have thought her passing was odd,” Kristofer suggested.

  “Exactly. It looks to have been a bit sooner than expected, but no one would have questioned it, if not for the sudden absence of blood.” She marked the rune on the woman’s forehead, more gently this time, and whispered the charm. It worked just like before, the rune mark glowing as if lit by fire.

  Kristofer was startled when the corpse smiled before she opened her eyes.

  “Micah!” she whispered with such pleasure that Kristofer and his mate both looked around the morgue. There was no one else there.

  Then the corpse began to hum a Whitney Houston song.

  Kristofer smiled. “She wants to dance with somebody.”

  The corpse broke into song and her voice was better than he might have expected.

  “Tell me about Micah,” his mate invited when she finished a line.

  “So strong. So kind.” Her words were filled with admiration. “So handsome that he drives the pain away.” She sighed again. “Micah.”

  “Where did Micah come from? What does he do?”

  The corpse frowned. “A business.”

  Kristofer’s Valkyrie leaned closer and guessed. “Is he an antique dealer?”

  Relief filled the dead woman’s expression. “Reliquary!” she said. “I wanted to go there and see it...” Her voice faded. “One last dance instead,” she murmured and looked so sad that Kristofer thought she might weep.

  “Somebody who loves me,” he sang softly and the dead woman’s expression became joyous again. They sang the chorus together, then the corpse closed her eyes, a smile curving her lips.

  They stood in silence for a moment.

  “That was kind,” his mate murmured.

  Kristofer shrugged. “Least I could do. We did wake her up again.”

  He closed the drawer, feeling his mate watching him. When he turned, she shifted back to her human form. She was paler than she had been and she staggered for a moment.

  Kristofer caught her elbow in her hand, steadying her, and the firestorm blazed with greater demand between them. “Tough charm to work?”

  She nodded once and seemed to gather her strength. Then she tossed back her hair and stepped away from him. “What does reliquary mean? I know that’s a box for religious relics. Did he collect them?”

  “Maybe, but that’s one of the shop names,” Kristofer said, pulling out his phone as he followed her. “And it’s still dark. We could get down to Soho and talk to the vampires before they crash for the day.”

  “Good plan.” She spoke crisply as she marched toward the door.

  She was due for a surprise, in Kristofer’s view, and he was due to guess her name. He’d make it a big one. He murmured the Old Norse words, watching her closely.

  “Beer I bear to thee, column of battle!

  with might mingled, and with bright glory:

  ’tis full of song, and salutary saws,

  of potent incantations, and joyous discourses.”

  She more than twitched.

  She pivoted and stared at him, her shock complete.

  “Need a coffee, Sigrdrifa?” Kristofer watched her stare at him, apparently at a loss for words. He felt triumphant that he’d figured out her name and guessed from her reaction that no one had ever done that before. He strode toward her and caught her elbow in his hand, guiding her toward the door. “We can get you one on the way. Come on.”

  Five

  Bree felt naked.

  Kris knew what she was and who she was. No one other than her sisters and the old man had ever known both about her, yet he’d just recited the old rhyme about her as if it was no big deal that he’d figured it out. She’d never told Siegfried her name and if he’d guessed, he’d kept his mouth shut about it. Some bard had put two and two together years later, but she’d never met him.

  This was all new.

  And that, Bree had to admit when she got past her shock, was interesting. It had been so long since she had experie
nced anything truly novel that she wasn’t sure what to do about this dragon shifter of hers.

  She walked along beside him, feeling a bit unsteady on her feet—and it wasn’t just from using that charm twice in rapid succession. She felt Kris watching her but concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. She was seriously thinking that this particular dragon shifter wouldn’t be a fair trade for her sister.

  She liked him too much, while Kara was...challenging. There was something about Kris that made her want to know him better, to hang out and talk, to.... well, that, too.

  He took a sudden turn and opened a door, holding it for her. Bree smelled coffee, glorious strong dark coffee, and walked inside without hesitation.

  “Wouldn’t need a firestorm to trap you,” Kris murmured just as she passed him. “Just a fresh pot of coffee.”

  Bree smiled, because it was true. His eyes were twinkling when she glanced at him, and she felt an increasingly predictable response to his charm. “Planning your revenge?” she asked deadpan and he laughed.

  “Not yet,” he said lightly, leaving the possibility open.

  “We’re not open,” the woman said from behind the counter. There was no one else in the shop.

  “Not even for an emergency?” Kris asked. “She needs the biggest cup of the strongest brew you have,” he said and pointed to a take-out cup. “How about that one? It looks like a flower vase.”

  The clerk laughed and filled a cup. “I recognize that expression,” she said cheerfully to Bree. “I looked just like that an hour ago when my alarm went off.” She put the cup down on the counter and Kris pulled out his wallet. “One for you?”

  He shook his head. “She drinks enough for both of us,” he said with a smile that would have charmed a surly bear.

  Even Bree felt charmed.

  “Oh, I don’t have the till opened yet,” the woman said. “Just enjoy.”

  “Hey, thanks!” Kris said and Bree added her thanks before she sipped.

  Just one taste helped so much. She took another sip before putting a lid on the cup. “We’re going to be late,” she said to Kris and he nodded agreement.

  He brushed against her arm when he reached to open the door and Bree froze at the flurry of sparks that erupted from the point of contact.

  “Hey, what’s that light?” the clerk asked.

  Bree watched Kris turn slowly and smile at the clerk. “Static electricity. It’s starting early this year.”

  “No.” The woman frowned. “There’s no carpet in here and the air is moist. No, that was something else—like magick.”

  Bree caught her breath.

  Kris returned to the counter and looked directly into the woman’s eyes. She was staring at him, apparently transfixed, although Bree couldn’t blame her for that. He could be pretty compelling.

  “You didn’t see a thing,” he said, his voice dropping to a strange monotone.

  “I didn’t see a thing,” the woman repeated, staring unblinkingly at Kris. Her tone was flat, too.

  Bree frowned and took a step closer, wondering what was going on.

  “It was just a trick of the light,” Kris said.

  The tension went out of the woman’s shoulders. “It was just a trick of the light,” she repeated with relief. She was still staring into his face.

  “Nothing to worry about.” Kris couldn’t have sounded more reassuring if he’d tried. He must have smiled, because the woman smiled and Bree already saw that she was mimicking Kris.

  “Nothing to worry about,” the woman murmured.

  Bree moved to stand beside them and was startled to see flames dancing in Kris’s eyes. She dropped her gaze instinctively. What was he doing?

  “No one has even come in, even though you forgot to lock the door,” he said.

  “No one has even come in, even though I forgot to lock the door.”

  “You’d better lock the door,” Kris suggested. “It’ll be safer that way.”

  “I’d better lock the door,” the woman said, moving from behind the counter. “It’ll be safer that way.”

  Kris caught Bree’s elbow and hurried ahead of the woman, pushing Bree into the street ahead of him. “Can’t be too careful,” he concluded as the woman closed the door after them.

  “Can’t be too careful,” she said, her voice audible through the glass, then turned the lock. She headed back across the shop as if she’d forgotten them completely.

  Bree looked between her and Kris. He ran a hand through his hair and looked relieved. “What just happened there?” she asked.

  “I convinced her she didn’t see the firestorm.”

  “How did you convince her?”

  He looked uncomfortable. “It’s not really important. Come on! Let’s get the book.”

  Bree held her ground. “I think it is important. There were flames in your eyes.”

  He spun to look at her and she had one glimpse of his eyes—no flames—before she looked away. “You saw?”

  “Just barely. What was up with that?”

  He shook his head and started walking. Bree caught up with him, sipping her coffee as they strode west. “We should get a cab,” he said. “Think we’ll find one on Broadway?”

  Instead of answering, she grabbed his sleeve. “What just happened there? Tell me!”

  Kris sighed and stopped. “Beguiling. I’m not that good at it, for whatever that’s worth, but I guess I was good enough.” He seemed to be relieved to admit it.

  “Beguiling?”

  He shoved his hands into his pockets, still looking agitated. “It’s a talent that some Pyr cultivate more than others, an ability to persuade humans to believe something. Like hypnosis.”

  Bree was startled. “That doesn’t sound very honest, Mr. Straight-and-Narrow.”

  He gave her a quick look. “It’s defensive. It can be useful when a Pyr has been spotted by humans. I don’t like it and I don’t practice enough,” he continued gruffly. “But the most successful beguiling promotes a view that the subject already holds. They’re more easily convinced of something that they already partly believe.”

  Bree understood. “Like they didn’t see an actual dragon.”

  “Or a firestorm.” He met her gaze. “I didn’t think we had the time to stop and make explanations, and I didn’t want to leave her with questions.”

  Bree held his gaze as she took a long swallow of her coffee. “Just don’t ever do it to me.”

  “Wouldn’t even consider it.” They nodded at each other and carried on.

  She wondered whether some variation of beguiling was responsible for her doubts. She’d had a couple of opportunities to claim his soul, and she hadn’t taken them. Was that her idea or his?

  “So, what should I call you?” he asked finally.

  “Brianna,” she said, because there was no point in being evasive about it now.

  “That’s not even close to a Valkyrie name, let alone Sigrdrifa.”

  She twitched again, apparently unable to help it.

  She knew he noticed.

  “Old Norse is hard for modern people to pronounce, plus I like to mix it up. I change out names when I take a new identity.”

  He shrugged. “I always keep my name the same.”

  She smiled into her coffee. He would. Kris was one of the most steady and consistent men she’d ever known. It would be easy to rely upon him.

  That thought made her smile fade. “But Kristofer isn’t an Old Norse name either.”

  Kris shrugged and averted his gaze, which caught her attention. “Blame my mom.”

  “What’s she like?”

  “Was, and I don’t remember.”

  “You don’t remember your mom?”

  “My dad took us when I was three.” He gave her a fierce look that told Bree the subject was closed.

  She struggled against her curiosity. Kris hadn’t shut her down about anything so far. Whatever had happened with his mom was important.

  But she wasn’t going to g
et emotionally involved. They’d be going their separate ways soon, after all.

  “Most people call me Bree,” she said, wanting to put them back on an easier footing.

  “Bree,” he said, and it did sound sexy in his low rumbly voice.

  “So, do you have a vampire attack plan?”

  He cast her a confident grin. “We go there. We knock. And when they answer, we ask for Maeve’s book.” His eyes were dancing and she knew he couldn’t be serious.

  “I think that, as a plan, yours has definite weaknesses,” she informed him.

  “No kidding, but in the absence of a better idea, we’ll give it a try, and tweak it as we go.”

  “That’s feeble.”

  “Not really. We’ve got surprise on our side at least, because the vampires don’t know what we can do.”

  There was that.

  Unfortunately for Kris’s plan, it turned out that the vampires did know what they could do.

  Kristofer surveyed the window display as he knocked on the door of Reliquary. The shop was in an old building that had to have high ceilings. It had a large display window to the right of the door, but there was a drape behind it, hiding the rest of the shop and its contents from view. In the window, there was a stuffed bison head on a wall plaque, a pair of wooden rocking chairs, and a Gramophone, one of the ones that always looked to him like it had an inverted umbrella attached to it. Everything in the window had a thick coating of dust.

  The door was glass but shadowy and dark, as if the glass was murky or dirty. It was impossible to see anything on the other side of it. The name of the shop was painted in gold letters in an arch on the window, then again on the store. There was a small sign at the front of the window that said Closed and another on the door that said Open by Appointment. There was no telephone number, though, and there hadn’t been one in the search results. There was a website url lettered beneath the store name, which Kristofer thought incongruous: they didn’t have a phone or regular hours, but they had a website.

  There was no bell or buzzer, much less a door knocker. Bree rapped on the glass, and Kristofer took a step back to look up at the building. It was five stories high, four windows across the front on each floor. It was an elegant building, with decorative brickwork and an elaborate cornice on the front lip of the roof. All of the windows were dark.