Midnight Diner 5.3 by Ross Baxter & Lynette Pedersen & Stanley Noah & Maurice Broaddus & Karina Fabian

Author:Ross Baxter & Lynette Pedersen & Stanley Noah & Maurice Broaddus & Karina Fabian [Baxter, Ross]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: ccPublishing NFP
Published: 2014-08-22T18:30:00+00:00

Good Intentions: From the Case Files of DragonEye, PI

(Part Three of Four)

Karina Fabian

Episode Three: Wrong and Wight

The cold wind blasted over my scales as I flew out of the bar, but panic and fury had heated my blood. What kind of “warning” had my mysterious note writer sent me, and why wasn’t Grace answering her phone? Had someone struck out at her as a way to discourage me? If so, they didn’t know me very well.

I went to the alley first. Grace had promised she’d go there and check things out, but I found no sign of her. I did a second fly-by, reaching out for her familiar scent and the sense of her magic. Nothing. I didn’t know if I should feel reassured or even more worried. She could be dropping off some of the minions, maybe Father Rich. He’d loaned her his Jeep for the case, so she’d have had to pick him up for the rally then drop him back home. I wasn’t naïve enough to think having a priest with her would stop a nefarious wrongdoer from sending me a message. I followed my instincts and flapped double-time back to our lair.

I soared above the clean but cookie-cutter houses and square yards of the latest housing development in Territory, and past some less savory houses to the warehouse district where Grace and I called home. Our own home and office was in a warehouse that the previous owner had expanded by tacking on more walls at whatever angle suited him at the time. From above, it looked like a Tetris piece made of cinder blocks and corrugated steel roofing. At the moment, it was a beautiful sight, especially since Fr. Rich’s car adorned the parking space nearest the front door. Marty Weaver’s rusted-out Camero waited in the shadows. At least Grace wasn’t alone.

Then, I heard Grace’s voice, pure and strong…and weaving a defense spell!

I dove for our door, but at the last minute stopped myself short of crashing through it. If I interrupted her spell casting, I might give whatever she was fighting the chance it needed to attack. The backflap of my wings rattled the door, and I heard an answering wail, a pain-filled duet of guilt and unfulfilled desires. I froze in mid-reach for the doorknob as the cold seeped into my heart as well as my skin.

Why was I bothering, anyway? What kind of dragon was I, getting all worked up over a human? I used to be top of the food chain. Humans, dwarves, elves…they were playthings, mine to reward when they amused me or roast when they got annoying. Now, I’m out in blasted cold wind, freezing my scales off because one of their mates got herself killed? How did I forget what I was—what I am?

This is George’s fault. Magically overpowered pain in my tail! He could have gone anywhere in the world to catch a dragon, but no, he chose to set a trap in my territory. He brought me down to nothing, then convinced me he cared.

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