Breaking Ties (23 page)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Spencer

December 20, 8:11 pm

Only Ricky Jay can save me now.

Sure, you might think, this humble trickster can flimflam Foxes, deceive Dogs, con Coyotes and even scam sorcerers, but can he defend himself against a dragon?

Said dragon chasing me might have been on another night the sort of mild-mannered mark I'd fleece to finance a booze cruise down to Rio. But when taking into consideration the prior precedents of dragons attempting to total any motorized conveyance I choose to utilize, the dragon's presence only serves as a reminder of how difficult life on the road can be.

When a Coyote finds himself attacked by a dragon, there are three real methods of defense. The first is the stare. And then dive out of the way of a gout of golden flame.

As you can see, this angers the dragon.

Next, the bold gesture.

“
Hi!
” A card explodes against the dragon's brow with a similar burst of fire.

This infuriates the beast.

Finally, I suggest throwing a lively quartet of queens into the dragon's open maw. “
Hi! Kaze! Tsuchi! Mizu!
”

The explosion of elements in the dragon's throat sends the beast into a heap, coughing up bits of dirt, ice and mud that crackles with electricity, and serves as a warning to any would-be hecklers.

Now, you may believe that, since a Coyote can fire cards into a dragon's maw with relative ease, could he in fact penetrate the thick outer, nigh-pachydermatic layer of draconic scales?

No! Of course I can't, that's just crazy. Who the hell could do
that
? But given that I find my life on the line, and with the encouragement of approbation provided by the imaginary audience I'd like to think is watching, I attempt the feat.

I roll to the right and spring up, scaling a seven at the beast, which bounces off the scales to no effect.

That, um,
scares
the dragon. Probably.

I run in a circle around it, as pivoting isn't a strong suit of dragons, firing random cards which tap lightly against his golden armor and fall to the clawed-up earth and grass below.

That, uh…wounds the dragon?

A jack hits cleanly and tumbles down, jarred loose by the dragon's movement.

That
pisses me off
.

For Dad's part, he's mostly providing distraction by way of shooting at it, which for all intents and purposes to the human eye looks like he's trying to carjack a tour bus. That, or live-action role-play a scene from
Grand Theft Auto
.

Yep, video-game references too. I'm just a Renaissance trickster trying to give that imaginary audience its money's wor—

Shit!

Okay, maybe less humorous interior monologue and more dodging and rolling out of the way of a particularly lethal beast. But it's imperative I don't take this seriously. Coyotes don't do serious, even in these situations. So I kind of wish Shiko were here, as serious is definitely a forte of the Kitsune.

I come out of the roll rather grass-stained and dirty, scaling a card blindly straight ahead, I don't even know which one. When I get upright, I can see that the Joker is precariously perched on the scaly brow of the Golden behemoth.

Seriously, the corner of the card is wedged in the tiniest of gaps between the scales of the dragon's eyebrow, a feat of card-throwing so amazing and awesome I am forced to point it out myself, well, to myself.

Still, when Fate gives you a piece of pure destiny like that on a silver platter, you take advantage before she changes her mind.

As I have demonstrated, the suits in a common deck of playing cards are thought to have been inspired by Tarot, which assign specific elements to each suit, those elements being the traditional water, earth, wind and fire. But as I took this trick off a Fox of Nipponese descent, there is an element that often gets included, that being the Void, the element of creativity, spiritual energy, thought, and the explanation they use why they can pull off supreme bullshit actions not usually seen outside an anime.

And despite my Swedish-American heritage and only being able to speak Japanese like a drunk executive who fell asleep listening to Rosetta Stone MP3s, I still stole that Fox's Tail and can use that trick, call on that element, because thankfully it doesn't discriminate based on who's making the call.

“
Sora!
”

And the dragon's head is quite suddenly thoroughly wrapped in many, many layers of silk bunting that appears to have been tie-dyed by a four-year-old.

I might have forgotten to mention the considerable amount of mental focus and discipline required to call on that element, since dumb luck will really only carry you so far, and Fate's not that thrilled about helping anyone with magic. But, hey, silk, especially in that many layers, is
really
strong, it can even stop a bullet—

Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiip!

“Oh fuck.”

“Son,” Dad says as he comes up next to me. “I don't know if you've noticed, but we're not really making a dent here.”

We're backing away, again, if you were curious.

“Oh, I noticed. Ricky Jay can only take you so far, you know? Maybe if I had his erudition and elocution I might have pulled it off but—”

“But you only got a GED.”

“
Diploma.
” I grit my teeth. “I didn't graduate in June, but I
did
graduate, damn it. Jesus, you're just like James.”

He grins at me. “Really? You graduated? Well, before that thing kills us, you should know I'm proud of you.”

“Please don't tell me I'm the first one in our family to finish high school.”

“On my side, at least.”

“At least
someone's
impressed. James thinks I'm just some walking gland that—”

I hit the ground, shoved there by Dad, him on top of me, shielding me from a swipe of the dragon's claws.

God, what were we thinking, trying to take on a dragon?

A dragon…

Oh shit, I am a moron. It's a dragon.

“Hey, Goldie.” I worm my way out from under Dad, put myself between him and the beast. “Yeah, you, what the hell do you think you're doing? You can't do this!”

Ever had steam snorted in your face? It's not a pleasant experience, I'll put that right out there.

“And why can't I, hm?” Okay, that's a voice that could do movie trailers. At least I've got it talking.

So why can't it? C'mon, Spencer, the answer's gotta be there, or at least a bright, shiny lie that dragons were put on this earth to fall for. Why can't a Golden Dragon—

“Because you're lawful good!”

Yeah, awkward silence on all our parts.

The dragon tilts his head confusedly. “I'm
what,
now?”

“Lawful good, so you have the utmost respect for the law, for order, practicing benevolent behavior while combating evil. And uh…you can't attack good people because it would be a, um…ethos violation. And both of us are totally good people, same with everyone in that diner over there. So you gotta behave or the gods will bring the hammer down on your ass.” I nod quickly.

The dragon appears lost in thought for a moment, but I hold my ground. “Dad? Promise me that you will never tell James I actually paid attention to his Dungeons & Dragons crap. Or anyone, really. I will totally steal back your car from Shiko for you if you'll do this.”

“Dad?”

I glance over my shoulder. He hasn't moved.

“Dad?”

Blood's on the grass.

“Dad?”

A lot of it. I fully turn around.

Oh God, he's not breathing.

“Dad!” I'm at his side, he's still warm, but his eyes are open, unblinking, three long gashes are on his back, red and deep. “No. No no no no no. No, it's a trick, just a cloak, right? You're faking.”

I roll him onto his back. He's limp, his chest still not moving, face expressionless. “You've got to be faking, Dad, come on! I'm handling the dragon, you don't have to do this.” My eyes feel hot.

“Please, you don't have to fake it anymore. You can get up, Dad. It's going to be okay, I've got it handled.” My jaw is clenching, fingers are curled, sounds are coming out of me between my words. I'm just trying to sell it, that's all. Help the con. He's not…

“Damn it, it's not funny anymore!” A choked sound emerges from my throat. “Just get up.”

Please, please don't be…

“Fine. You got me. I buy it, great job, we'll laugh our asses off about it later, okay? You win, I'm happy you're back. I need you in my life, okay? You're a son of a bitch, but you're my father and I'll forgive you if you just…just…fucking wake up!”

I grab his face, stare into his eyes. “The trick's over. I'm not buying it anymore, you're not dead.” I collapse, sobbing, my face is wet, my chest is tight, throat hot. “Dad, please don't be dead. Please, you're all I've got left.”

“I've been considering your words. I find them…lacking.”

Right, there's a Golden Dragon behind me. I'm going to take care of that. I get to my feet.

The dragon is four feet from me, his snout breathing hot, almost steamlike air into my face. I stand unfazed. The card is still affixed to his head, unnoticed by him.

He speaks again, showing sharp teeth. “I am here to kill a sorcerer,
Trickster
. And you…whoever you are—”

“I forgot to introduce myself, didn't I?” I already know what I'm going to do, what I'm going to say. “Hello. My name is Spencer Jensen Crain. You killed my father. Prepare to—”

“Die?” He
hmph
s, blasting me with another snort. “A
Coyote
believes he can
kill
me?”

Dragons will believe practically anything a Coyote tells them. The card wedged into the scales of his head represents the element that pertains to thought, to the mind. I used it to jump into James's head once, but I don't need to do that here.

And no, I'm not going to kill him. He killed my father, who died saving my life. The bastard doesn't deserve to die.

He deserves worse.

“I think I know something you don't know.” I smile a Coyote smile. “I may not be a sorcerer, but I still know the magic word.”

He grins with plenty of teeth. “And that would be?”

“
Sora.
” The Joker glows fiercely as my Bardic tongue shapes the words. “
May your words be ever on the tip of your tongue, your inspiration always just beyond your grasp, your will and wealth an open wound that will never close, your name never clean, and your heart always heavy with what you have wrought,
Dragon
.
” I spit the last word in his face.

The concern blossoms in him almost immediately, brow furrowing, confusion conquering his gaze as the curse takes hold. Apparently a Bard can take down a dragon, but right now I couldn't care less.

I just need to get back to—

“Dad?”

He's standing there, but he's still on the ground, no longer bleeding. He's on the ground, but I can see dull shapes moving behind him. His face is locked in a grimace of pain and concern, and yet his face is somehow relieved, smiling.

“Son, you know what this means.” He steps forward, his form a little more wispy. When I reach out to touch him, my hand passes through him, warmed, like it'd just felt the desert sun. He looks beyond me at the dragon, and when I look as well, the beast is stumbling off along the road, making mumbled sounds, no words. “Really did a number on that one. Couldn't kill him? Not even for me?”

I shake my head. “I'm sorry, I just…”

“Hey, none of that. You aren't a killer. I'm glad that's one way you didn't take after me.” Dad looks over his shoulder. “Think my ride's on the way.”

“So…you're really…” I shake my head. “No, there's got to be something I can do. Maybe a way to trick Granny Atropos or if I find James he can—”

“No,” he says sternly. “I died saving my son's life. I can't think of a better way to go.” He smirks. “Well, maybe in a hot tub filled with champagne and satisfying four women at once and dying in the
successful
attempt.” He shrugs. “Or maybe with your mother, wouldn't mind hearing that laugh one last time.”

A few seconds pass, and he looks over his shoulder again. “Okay, before I go, I want you to promise me you're not going to get all blubbery and swear revenge. We're Coyotes, son, that's not our thing. You're going to go out, get drunk, swindle and hustle a few people in my honor, and maybe make a few bad decisions.” He grins. “And you did promise to steal back my 'Vette.” He points a ghostly finger at me. “Promise me.”

I sniff back some tears, try a smile, maybe I even manage it. “I promise. I guess this means you really did love me, huh?”

“Up to you, really. You're the Bard, it's your story to tell.”

“Dad?”

“Yeah, son?”

“I forgive you.”

He chuckles. “No you don't. But thanks for saying it anyway.”

And he vanishes in the blink of an eye. He was right. I don't forgive him, not really, not yet. Everything doesn't just wipe away in the space of a moment. But he died to save my life, and that's a place to start, a place to build from.

For my father, I'm willing to try.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Slartibartfast

December 20, 8:14 pm

“Are we getting close?”

Ugh, this dreamblood is
yappy
. I'm grateful for the neat vambrace on my leg. I can tell it's enchanted but doesn't have any enthralling qualities to it, so it's not like I'm his pet or anything. But all these attempts at conversation are a mite grating, not to mention he keeps calling me by the name of my human guise. I mean,
rude
, right?

I also have no idea what his investment in bringing down the Dragon King might be, other than him simply being dreamblooded, and he doesn't even smell like a purebred one.

“James?”

I grit my many teeth, which weren't built for that sort of treatment. “What now?”

“What's a White Dragon's treasure type?”

Oh great, sure, now he's rubbing in that I'm broke, like most of my clan. “Not as good as a Red's, is that what you want to hear? Or that uppity damned Golden's. I'm broke, and I'm just looking for some volunteer work to help out humanity. What have
you
done in a charitable sense lately, hm?” I smirk, satisfied. Dwarves aren't known for their philanthropy. They're known for…uh…sensing gradients. Weird, why would I know that? Seems a pretty lame thing to be known for.

“Um…” He sounds worried. “What's your name?”

“Hmph. Like I'd tell that to a—” I sniff the air, scan the earth below, my eyes straining as they focus, which feels odd, and odder still that it feels odd, like I'd never zoomed my vision in before. The weirdness fades though, as I see what I've been searching for, ambling along the side of a highway, away from a roadside diner that I can smell from up here. Mmmmm, human food can be so decadent…even if they don't know how to serve fish right.

No, no, focus, I should get down there.

“Hang on, Dwarf.” And I descend. I'd rather dive but the dreamblood would probably fall off, and I'd rather not piss off a clan of blacksmiths who'll spend the rest of their days forging a
Zweihänder
named Snowslayer or something.

It's odd that His Majesty is walking along the side of the road. Maybe the diner is where the new Ra'keth is? Pretty funny, considering the idea of a sorcerer being at some greasy spoon is…

Actually it sounds sort of familiar, now that I think about it.

“James!”

Shit, right, got distracted and went too fast. It's hard to keep everything juggled in my head, especially the human guise. Maybe I should just bag it for a while and focus on being what I am: a dragon that's going to kick His Majesty's ass, take the throne and earn some respect for the Snow Clan.

So, obviously, I've got surprise on my side when I crash into his side and send his golden self tumbling into the field, seeing as I don't want him colliding with the diner and killing my new boss.

Tyras rolls over languidly, and just…keeps moving along? He does realize I just hit him, right? “Hey! What, you're so superior you won't even acknowledge a usurpation attempt by my clan?”

“James!” The Dwarf hops off me, thankfully, as that frees me up for better movement.

I snort a bit of frost in his bearded face, not too badly. “Stop calling me that, do I look human to you?” I leave him behind, stomping toward the Golden. Maybe a bite to the neck will get his attention.

“
Slartibartfast!
”

Finally someone gets my name right. I crane my neck around behind me to see someone familiar, and he doesn't seem all that pleased. Ugh, what happened to his hair? How many colors is that? I sniff the air, his scent triggering a few memories. Wait, wait, I think I know this guy.

“Thank God you got him to stop.” The Dwarf knows him too, looks like. “He's lost himself, he doesn't remember who he is. He thinks he's actually a dragon and wants to kill the Dragon King.”

The man looks at the Dwarf, shocked. “Oh shit, I put the whammy on their
king
? I mean, I'm a good trickster but, damn, their king?” He glances off into the field. I can smell a little blood. Is he hurt? He doesn't look or smell hurt.

“Forget that, Coyote, we've got to remind him who he is before the new Ra'keth takes the throne.” Wait, that guy's a Coyote? No wonder I probably know him. They're a funny and friendly sort. Too bad I don't have any money. He could probably give me some good investment advice.

“There's a new one?” He points toward the diner. “What, in there? Shit…” He chuckles softly to himself, then shakes his head. “No, no, gotta focus on something other than…” The Coyote stares at me. “Slartibartfast? That's your name, right?”

I snort in annoyance. “Of course it is. I have no idea what my parents were thinking, but—”

“
I
named you that.” He takes a step closer. “In fact, I've given you two names, for both of your forms. Slartibartfast for this form, and James Black for the other.”

Huh, now that I think about it, that is correct. That must be why I know him. He's probably my friend.

“I'd like to tell you about your human form.” A few more steps and he reaches his hand out, touches my snout. “That would be okay?”

“Of course, I trust you.” Certainly more than the Dwarf. The Coyote just seems to have a…quality, I think is the word.

“Good, because everything I'm about to tell you is the absolute truth. You know that, right?”

I nod. “I doubt you'd lie to me if you gave me both my names. You and I are friends, I'm guessing.”

He smiles, charmingly, relieved. “Yeah, probably best friends. And right now, I need you to remember who you really are because you can't imagine how much I need you right now. So, are you ready?”

I nod again, since this is apparently vital information.

“Okay. I first met you at Victory Station, you were human, and you were going by a different name then, one your own parents gave you. But you had to give it up because you were getting away from someone who was hurting you.”

I snort derisively. “I doubt anyone could hurt me. These scales aren't just for show.” Still, it feels oddly familiar.

He doesn't comment, just continues with the story. “You met me during one of the low points of my life, when I was running from a bad situation, and I was minutes away from my escape. But I gave my exit to you, and you said—”

“That you were my hero.” That
does
sound familiar. Must've been in my human form. But if someone was hurting me, why didn't I just turn into a dragon?

“Yeah, and I needed to be reminded that I could be that, heroic, to put someone else's needs and safety above my own. You did that. And I gave you a name to go by until you didn't need it anymore. And that name was James Black. Later on, you were given another name. The name that defines who you are.”

The Coyote looks directly into my eyes, and the words emerge in Sigil. “
You are James Black, the Lightning Rod, Ra'keth of the Argent City, Holder of the Throne of the Sorcerer King.
” His face pales, but speaking in Sigil tends to do that to people. But…his words. They…I…

“I'm…the Ra'keth?” But if that's true, I'm human, not a dragon, and turning back would be as simple as…

One uttered word, then a flash of light, and I collapse into Spencer's arms, the staff tumbling into the grass. “I forgot I was human.” I look up at him. “You helped me remember.” I hug him tight. “Oh God, I almost lost myself forever. I'm never doing that again, never ever ever…” Oh shit. “Where's Tyras? The other dragon?”

That son of a bitch.

He was going to kill some random person, probably traumatize a building full of people, let me think I was a dragon for the rest of my life (with a big inferiority complex, I might add), and probably keep me as his pet because he saw an opening for the throne and wanted to take his shot.

Well fuck
that
.

He wants to meet the real me?

“James!” It's Ozzie, but I'm not in the mood for that right now. “James!”

“
What?
” I turn around, glare at him, and he staggers back a few steps, Spencer appearing put off as well.

Whatever. I put my attention back on Tyras. He's still just a dragon here, and I'm the goddamned Ra'keth.

“What are you going to do?” Spencer's hand is on my shoulder, but it immediately jolts back, probably from the electricity racing and crackling along my skin. “Jesus, would you calm down?”

“What the hell do you think, Spencer?”

“I'm not letting you kill him.”

“Do you have any idea what he did to me? What he put me through?” I shove him aside but he doesn't back down, putting himself between Tyras and me. “Move.”

“I'm sure he put you through hell but if
I
wouldn't kill him, then you're not going to.”

I roll my eyes. “Why would you kill a dragon, those are meal tickets for Coyotes.”

“He killed my father. I am having a
shit
day, and I'm not going to allow you to make it any worse for either of us. Now stop, leave the dragon alone, and let's all just go home.” His lower lip trembles slightly. “Please.”

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuckity fuck.

I didn't know Tyras had killed Spencer's dad. When did that happen? Jesus, I hope it wasn't in the time since Spence and I met, because then maybe I could've done something to prevent it or… God, what do I do?

Well, I didn't know his dad, but I do know Spencer, and as pissed as I am at Tyras, there's really only one way I can handle this situation without hurting my friend.

I push Spence aside again. He closes his eyes as I pass.

Spence wouldn't kill him. So neither can I.

“Tyras!” I have the dragon's attention; his eyes are confused, but he seems to recognize me. And…oh shit, what the hell is emanating off him? It's like…wispy chains that go all around him, through him, his heart and his mind, binding his mouth closed and… “As your king, I decree that you are banished to your realm, never to return. You will live out your days there, caring for your dragons, ensuring that they are well-treated by me and any Ra'keth that follows me, but you will never come back to this world. Understand?”

He only makes a soft whimper, but punctuates it with a nod.

“Good. When you return home, you will be free from any curses laid on you.” I glance back at Spencer. “Because no one should have to suffer like that.”

It doesn't take long for the working. He's soon gone.

I don't know what I was expecting, really. I thought there would be a magical duel between us, maybe to the death. Some part of me, I know, wanted it that way. Some part of me liked when I killed the Usurper months ago, cut him open and left him to bleed out in Tartarus. The same part that made putting a scissor blade through my ex's heart not as hard as I thought it would be, the part of me that accepted the power Cale gave me with his last breath, and wanted more. The same part that makes my eyes go black and my veins stand pronounced and dark against my skin, that would make anyone mistake me for a villain.

When I come out of my reverie, I'm on my knees, exhausted. Spencer's hand is on my shoulder. “I'm sorry about the curse. That part of your Bard thing?”

“Yeah.” He sits down next to me. “And it's okay. I'm all right with him never coming back.”

“He killed your father, though.”

“Well.” He shrugs. “Dad was kind of a dick. Don't get me wrong, he's my dad and I loved him, I think. But, uh, it was in the heat of the moment, and I'm still pissed and raw about it, but he didn't want me to mope. Killing that dragon, making him suffer, that's not a tribute to Dad, you know? Swindling some whale out of half a million dollars in Vegas and blowing it all on whiskey, strippers and ‘massages' would be.”

I'll admit I snerk at that.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

He grins, he calls it his Coyote Smile. “Absolutely.”

I lean and whisper. “I hate my job, Spence. Seriously. I hate it. I'd give it all up to that random person who is probably in that restaurant over there.”

“So why don't you?”

I glance at a family getting into their car in the parking lot and sigh. “Because I wouldn't wish this on anyone. So I might as well do it and rock the boat as little as possible.” I get up, help him up as well and glance over at Ozzie, who still looks awfully worried. “I'm okay, Oz. At least I will be.”

He takes that as his cue to come over, bringing the staff with him. “I'm sorry, I tried to keep you from slipping into that… I'm sorry.”

I wave it off and take the staff. “Not your fault, I screwed up. Don't worry, won't happen again. I don't plan on being a dragon for a good long while.”

“Well, uh.” Spencer speaks up. “Probably a good idea for us to continue this conversation in the car, on the road, driving away from here, considering those nice people in the diner probably just saw either two semis colliding, my dad trying to carjack a tour bus, or any other number of illegal things. Car's over there, let's go.”

“I'll call a cab.” Ozzie looks away. “You two can go ahead.”

“Spence, could you get the car started? We'll be right over.”

I take Ozzie aside while Spencer heads to what looks like a luxury sedan. “Everything okay? Figured you'd be in a better mood, I mean…” I press the button on the staff to make it collapse. Damn, that's cool. “We did just win. We're all okay, well, except for Spencer. I thought…”

“You were… Your eyes were…” He can't make eye contact. “I don't know what, didn't know what you were, what you were going to do…”

I put my hand on his shoulder. “Ozzie, I would never hurt you, you know that. Look at me, I'm fine, I'm okay. My head's still a little fuzzy but I know who I am and what I am.”