Read Fire Song (City of Dragons) Online
Authors: Val St. Crowe
Fire Song (City of Dragons)
Fire Song
City of Dragons
by Val St. Crowe
There’s a serial killer stalking dragon shifters in Sea City, and pretty boy Detective Lachlan Flint wants my help tracking the killer down.
I’m a dragon shifter myself. Penny Caspian’s the name. But I’m trying to lie low, not run around interrogating half the dragon community—or one dragon in particular. My ex.
Yeah, I left my destined mate. I know, I know. Dragons don’t
do
that. Trust me. It’s better this way.
This detective, though, he’s not taking no for an answer. Did I mention he’s pretty? But haunted and hiding something. There’s some deep-down trouble in that boy’s hollow eyes, and I got enough trouble of my own. Vampire motorcycle gangs. Wounded gargoyles. Locked dragon crypts.
Maybe it’s because I saw that shifter’s broken body, washed up on the beach. Maybe it’s her dead, empty eyes. It’s something, the hell if I know what, but I
am
going to find that killer. This is my city, and I look after my own.
FIRE SONG
© copyright 2016 by Val St.Crowe
http://vjchambers.com
Punk Rawk Books
Please do not copy or post this book in its entirety or in parts anywhere. You may, however, share the entire book with a friend by forwarding the entire file to them. (And I won’t get mad.)
Fire Song
City of Dragons
Val St. Crowe
“Hey there,” said a soft voice.
I looked up. I was standing on my own, staring out at the ocean, huddled under a blanket. There was a throng of people still on the boardwalk. We’d all been here for the Sea City March Wine Festival. The air was nippy, though earlier today, it had been bright and sunny, a herald of spring.
I wasn’t sure how this blanket had gotten around my shoulders. Someone must have put it on me.
I was only concentrating on what I’d seen, every single detail of the body that had washed up on the beach.
I’d walked down to the surf, wanting a bit of fresh air, and there she had been.
She was pale and bloated, gleaming in the moonlight, her hair tangled around her throat. The wounds in her chest gaped open, dark and shiny, like the sea itself.
But the worst thing had been her eyes. Rheumy, the color of a robin’s egg… no pupil left at all.
“You doing okay?” said the soft voice.
I turned to look in the direction of the voice. “Fine,” I snapped, even though I was shaking under the blanket.
The soft voice belonged to a man in a suit. His tie was loosened. His pants were crusted in sand.
He had movie star good looks. A dimpled chin. A straight nose. His shoulders were broad and his hands looked large and powerful.
But he was gaunt. His cheekbones too prominent, his clothes hanging too loose. And his eyes…
His eyes were hollow.
There was something strange about the look of him, so attractive and yet so haunted.
I pulled my blanket tighter around myself, my brain working. He must be… “You the police detective? The one they said was going to want to talk to me?”
“That’d be me. Detective Lachlan Flint.” He had a hint of a southern drawl, so different from the mid-Atlantic accent I usually heard around these parts. And a sharp departure from my own clipped northern speech. “I understand you saw the girl.”
I nodded. “She had cuts…” I gestured to my own chest. “Long, deep gashes, like she’d been ripped apart.”
“I saw the body, ma’am,” he said reassuringly. “You don’t have to go through that for me.”
“Oh.” I nodded. “Of course.” I had been holding the image in my brain for nothing. Why had I thought he would need me to describe it? Why hadn’t I just let it go?
Because I couldn’t.
“…will go through any evidence they can find on her at the lab,” he was saying.
I had missed the beginning of that sentence, but I just nodded.
“Won’t be much, I’m afraid,” he said. “Water tends to get rid of most anything useful.”
I gazed at him, thinking again of how hollow his eyes seemed. Maybe he was simply tired. Or maybe he had seen too many bodies, too many robin’s egg eyes, and it had left a permanent mark on him.
“Sorry about that,” he said. “I don’t need to go through
that
for you. I understand you can identify the victim?”
“Oh,” I whispered. “I…” I shook my head. “No, I don’t know who she is.” I winced. What was wrong with me? Had I said her name aloud? I was going to blow everything. I couldn’t have people knowing who and what I was.
“You called her…” He got his phone out of his suit jacket pocket and scrolled through something on the screen. “Elena. Several people heard you.”
“No, I didn’t,” I said. “I’ve never seen her before.”
He nodded slowly. “I see. So, can you explain to me how it is that other people heard you say that name?”
“Maybe someone else said it, and they thought it was me.”
“You ran up the beach and you yelled…” He consulted his screen. “‘It’s Elena. It’s her. She’s dead.’” He raised his eyebrows.
Damn, had I really said that? Well, it was upsetting seeing a girl dead like that, especially one who was so young. I turned away from Lachlan Flint to look out at the ocean—dark water against a dark sky.
“Did you have something to do with this girl ending up in the water?” he said gently. “Maybe you didn’t expect her to wash up so close to home.”
“What?” I turned to him. “No!”
“All right, then.” He waited.
I didn’t say anything.
“You and I both know that you know that girl. Now, you tell me who she is and how it is you know her, and you might be headed home to your bed tonight. If not, I think you’ll be coming to the station with me, and I’ll have to keep pestering you until I get the truth out of you.”
I sighed. I’d gotten myself into a heck of a mess, hadn’t I? “She’s Elena Watson,” I said. “She’s a dragon.”
The surprise flitted across his face before he could school his expression. “A dragon? Well, there was some speculation that this was a magical creatures case, and that’s why they called me. I’m the police detective that deals with that. But dragons, well, you don’t see a lot of that.”
“Not down in the south part of the city,” I said.
“No,” he said. Most of the dragons lived up north, right on the border of Delaware.
“I think she must have been out in town. The younger dragon set likes to do that. They like to mingle with the humans, pretend…” I licked my lips. “Maybe a slayer saw her, realized what she was.”
“This isn’t a slayer killing,” said Flint. “Slayers kill dragons in dragon form. They kill for things they can sell. We don’t find dragon bodies, because there’s never anything left. Slayers cut them up and sell every last bit.”
I felt bile rising in my throat. I knew this, of course, but hearing it put so graphically made me feel nauseous.
“How do you know what the younger dragon set likes to do?” said Flint. “How do you know this girl was a dragon?”
Now, that was something I couldn’t tell him. But I needed to say something, or he would continue to be suspicious. I cast about for a lie. “I used to work there, for a dragon family at one of their beach houses in the north of Sea City. I didn’t really know Elena, but I saw her a few times.” As far as it went, not knowing her was the truth. I had never been close to Elena, but I knew every dragon in the community. There were less than fifty family lines. It was a small world.
“Worked?”
“Cleaning,” I said.
He nodded. “Ah.” He put his hands in his pockets and turned to look out over the beach. “The people who I talked to, they identified you as the owner of the Purple Dolphin Hotel and Suites.” He consulted his phone again. “Miss Penelope Caspian?”
“People call me Penny,” I said.
“So, you own a hotel now?”
“A small one,” I said. We only had ten rooms and four suites.
“Tell, me, how does a person go from cleaning houses to owning a hotel?”
Damn it. I looked down at my feet.
“Maybe you know a lot about mingling with humans, Ms. Caspian,” he said in a low voice, and there was something intimate about it.
I swallowed hard. He was good, wasn’t he? That low, southern voice of his made me want to tell him everything. He made me feel as if confessing to him would ease all my burdens. I lifted my chin, defiant. “A person works hard.”
He chuckled. “All right, then.”
“Listen, detective, this has been a very traumatizing experience for me, and if you don’t have any other questions for me…”
“I won’t say anything,” he said, his voice still low and intimate. “I’ll keep it to myself what you are. But I wonder…” He sized me up. “We aren’t equipped to deal with the influx of creatures into Sea City. The police department, myself included, is fairly clueless about all of that.”
It was true that Sea City had only become the number one vacation spot for magical creatures over the past ten years or so. It had started with dragons buying up real estate in the north, right on the border of Delaware, and then everyone had started following suit. Vampires, gargoyles, and mages. Even drakes, slinking along in the shadows. There were more concentrated magical creatures here than probably anywhere else on the east coast.
“You, as a person who’s cleaned houses for dragons, might have some useful knowledge.” He winked at me, to let me know he didn’t really believe I’d ever cleaned a house in my life. He was right about that, unfortunately. “I wonder if I had a question about something in a case, if I might get in touch with you.”
I drew myself up. “This a deal, detective? Tit for tat? You keep your mouth shut if I help you out?”
“Just a simple request, Ms. Caspian.”
“Well, then, Detective Flint, I’m afraid I’m a very busy woman. I doubt I’d have time.”
He pursed his lips.
“Is there anything else you need from me?” I asked again.
“Not for tonight,” he said. Somehow, it sounded like a threat.
I pulled the blanket tight around my shoulders and stalked off through the sand.
*
I couldn’t sleep that night. I tried, rolling over and over in my bed, in my apartment, which sat just over the lobby of the Purple Dolphin Hotel. I lived where I worked, and everything that I had was now sunk into this hotel.
Maybe it had been stupid coming here.
I had thought Sea City would be the perfect hiding spot. I had thought that losing myself amongst the magical misfits in the south part of the city would be easy. I had thought that I’d blend in, and that no one would ever figure out who or what I was.
“You had to buy a hotel, didn’t you?” I whispered at the ceiling.
I hadn’t wanted to work for anyone else. I was proud that way. Call it my heritage, I suppose.
