Greater Treasures: A DragonEye Novella by Karina Fabian

Author:Karina Fabian [Fabian, Karina]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2013-04-15T22:00:00+00:00

Faerie-Go-Round

Actually, it was eight hundred and fifty years since St. George—God bless him, the magically overpowered pain in the tail—trapped me in a spell and took away everything that made me a dragon. He couldn't kill me, couldn't even properly convert me. Dragons are immortal and soulless—if by "soul" you mean the human version. So he did the next best thing: my size, my wisdom, my magic, my flight, my fire, all became holy hostages. I can only earn them back through good deeds to others and service to God through the Faerie Catholic Church—which, of late, I accomplish as a private detective to the particularly desperate. It hasn't been easy, but it has been interesting, especially the years I've spent on the Mundane side as a PI.

Some days were a little too interesting.

Thanks to Santry, I wouldn’t get back to sleep anytime soon, so I padded over to the office to do research. One thing I'd learned fast in this business was the value of a good computer. While mine warmed up, I moved Grace's keyboard off the steel plate where my virtual keyboard would shine. I can do very delicate work, even spent a few decades doing copy work with the Jesuits, but dragon claws are hard on plastic.

The phone rang as I was scanning the articles about the murders. "Vern, it's Anita from Little Flowers. Father just told us about Grace. Madre de Dios! Are you all right?"

I didn't trust myself to answer. "How'd he say she was doing?"

"They think her kidneys are failing. Vern, the papers—"

On page one of the local section was a lovely photo of our suspect, or at least of his stump of arm soaking in a dark pool. One for the scrapbooks. The accompanying article was full of "No Comments," by law enforcement, but that didn't stop the reporter from putting in enough innuendo to set my rep back eight and a half centuries regardless of the facts. I glanced at the byline: Kitty McGrue. Figures. I'd saved her life once, but ruined her story in the process. She's never forgiven me.

"Guess my red color makes me a herring," I bemoaned to Anita.

"Kitty McGrue is muy estupida. I think it's the Fellowship of the Fourth Reich, hurting Grace and trying to make you take the fall."

"You read too many detective novels," I teased. Anita had good instincts and knew it. She made sure we knew it as well.

"You know there are some of them in Gina's school? They beat up a Faerie human—a freshman, I think—and one of Gina's friends who tried to stop him. At Martin Luther King High!"

"That's irony."

Anita offered to call our friends and cancel Grace's appointments for me, so I emailed her the information, and then went on with my research.

Two hours later, I was more convinced than ever that no matter what evil magic could bring to the Faerie side, we had nothing on the imagination of the Mundanes.

I went to morning Mass.

Naturally, we prayed for Grace

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