Old Dark (The Last Dragon Lord Book 1) (25 page)

The governor reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a pair of glasses. “I’m glad we all understand each other. In these folders you will find copies of all of the records from the Department of Natural Resources for the last thirty years. Every magical incident. I need you to go through them before tomorrow morning. I’m one phone call away from getting the Magical Crimes Unit on the case, but I don’t have grounds yet. You are going to give me what I need so I can make that phone call.”

The governor was doing the briefing. Miri hadn’t expected that. She had expected one of his staff to do it.
 

“I don’t need to brief you about the details of this event, except that we don’t know anything other than the date and time. I wanted to meet with you first to set my expectations. I have assembled a team from my most experienced staff at the Department of Natural Resources. Jasmine White is the lead, and you’ll find her extremely capable, pleasant, and knowledgeable in all things archaeology and government policy. She and the team will meet you at six a.m. tomorrow morning, and I’ve told them that you’re in charge, Miss Charmwell. Anything you need, you just ask. If you need money, come to me. I want a report every other day. I prefer a written document, and you will send that to my assistant twenty-four hours prior to our meeting. It’ll be public record in a year so be sure to watch your typos. And for what it’s worth, I like bullet points.”

God! What else did he want? He wouldn’t have treated Laner this way. Or any other professor.
 

“Why don’t we meet every day?” Miri asked.

Her comment interrupted Ennius and surprised him. Dean Rosehill’s face hardened.

“If you want a written report every other day and a verbal report every other day, why don’t we just meet every day?”

“Because I’m giving you this opportunity, that’s why.” Ennius’s face reddened.
 

“You want me to do field work, I’ll do field work. But I can’t do field work if I’m tied up with
paperwork
, Mr. Governor.”

“This isn’t a negotiation class,” Ennius said. “I’ve stated my terms.”

“Yes, he has,” Dean Rosehill growled. “Mr. Governor, we appreciate this opportunity and we will not let you down.”

“I know
you
won’t,” Ennius said.
 

What was that supposed to mean?

“Get a good night’s rest,” Ennius said, standing at the door. “Because it’s the last one you’ll get until this investigation is over.”
 

“We will show you the glory of this school, Mr. Governor,” Dean Rosehill said.
 

An entourage met the governor, and Miri watched as he walked downstairs and out of the building.
 

The door to Rosehill’s office slammed.
 

The dragon hissed. “Miss Charmwell, if you have any frustrations, name them now.”

“I have none.”

“Then why do you insist on antagonizing the governor?”

“He was being unreasonable and you know it.”

Dean Rosehill coughed in a fit, and his body glowed blue and then flashed transparent for a moment. He sounded sick, and his coughs made Miri jump.
 

“You okay?” Laner asked.
 

“I’ve been better,” Dean Rosehill said.
 

Strange. Miri didn’t know dragons to get sick.
 

“As our prestige wanes in the national eye, so does my health. If we fail this mission, the governor will seize the school, and I will die.”

The dragon coughed again and swallowed hard. Miri had never seen him like this. He must have been hiding his sickness from her.
 

“Surely there is some way to extricate you from the school, isn’t there?” Miri asked.
 

Dean Rosehill shook his head. He uncoiled and circled the room, sighing with relief as he flapped his wings. “No, Miss Charmwell. That is the downside to Abstraction. An old dragon like me was going to die anyway. Being here has prolonged my life. But I am indeed at the mercy of society. Without an abstraction to fill, I will cease to exist.”

Dean Rosehill no longer owned magic. Dragons were normally tied to the aquifer. When their section depleted, so did their strength. When they went through Abstraction, magical engineers simply changed the magical tie, linking them to society. In most cases, dragons filled their niche and enhanced society. But some did not.
 

It was a gamble, but Miri understood dragons in Abstraction—if the aquifer perished, they would survive it, ensuring the survival of their species. It also incentivized them to contribute to conservation efforts, for if the aquifer was saved, they could restore their link someday.
 

Now she understood why the dean had been so cranky lately.
 

Her conscience nagged her. How could she conduct an investigation now? Things just kept getting worse, and she still could not figure out what to do.
 

Dean Rosehill had fought for her career, as cranky as he was lately. Did he have her best interest at heart? She thought so.
 

She should have been thrilled to get this assignment, but she felt ashamed.
 

“I believe in you both,” Dean Rosehill said. “I have never asked you for any favors. This is my one and only.”

“What do you think?” Laner asked as they walked down the hallway. They had split the Manila folders in half, and they carried them in paper bags.
 

“What?” Miri asked. She wasn’t paying attention.
 

“Today’s not your day, is it?”
 

“I’m fine.”

“I was thinking we could either set up camp at my place or yours, and go through this. Should we order dinner? Gavlin’s restaurant does delivery now.” His voice was soft, insistent.
 

He had that glimmer again in his brown eyes, that sweet crinkle above his left eyebrow that said he wanted her.
 

She had thought about old times, too, when she’d spend the night in his tiny apartment in the Half Eight and then run to class. How many times had she drunk wine and sat in his bay window with her feet on his lap, talking about philosophy and magic?
 

That would have been great, especially the wine.
 

Laner was nice, and maybe she could have seen a future with him. But she couldn’t figure out why he just didn’t suit her.
 

Love’s like a puzzle piece,
a poet had once written,
if it doesn’t fit right, you’re in for trouble.
 

“Thanks, Laner, but I actually planned on studying these by myself.”

“Oh.”

She put her hand on his shoulder. “I just need some space, okay?”

“It’s not something I said, is it? I don’t want our past to come between us.”

“It won’t,” Miri said. “We are going to make headlines.”

If only she believed it.
 

Laner laughed. “Yeah? Maybe. Well, see you.”

They parted in the lobby. She watched Laner walk down the street and catch a bus.
 

The air on the streets was muggy and Miri began to sweat. She pushed through the heat and traveled several blocks to a parking lot of an apartment complex.
 

A black car was parked under a carport. The driver side door opened and Earl stepped out. He opened the passenger door for her, motioning for her to give him the bags.
 

Miri hurried her pace and waved.

XXXV

Lucan sipped a gin and tonic in a fine dining restaurant located on the top floor of a downtown skyscraper. As the sunset filled the sky, he watched the city lights flicker on.
 

His jaw had been clenched shut for so long, it ached as he opened his mouth to drink. He downed his glass and flagged a waitress. A woman with blonde hair and wearing a black vest and tie made her way gracefully to him.
 

“Yes, Mr. Grimoire?”

Lucan held up his glass, and the ice and lime wedge inside jangled. “Gimme another, will ya, babe?”

The waitress grabbed the glass with one hand and gave him a warm smile.
 

Lucan glanced around the room. Dinner was in full swing, and all the tables were set with white tablecloths and black dishes that made a bold statement when they had food on them.
 

Two men in tuxedos played a piano and a guitar from a raised stage in the center of the room. The soft, mellifluous jazz standard reminded Lucan of the beach.
 

He ate at this restaurant once a week. The staff knew his schedule and always had gin and tonics and crab cakes ready for him. If Celesse was with him, they’d have a bottle of rosé waiting on ice. He preferred a corner seat facing the door, not because he was paranoid, but because Celesse loved to watch the sunset.
 

Tonight, the sun was like an effervescent tablet dropped into a glass of purple water; the horizon was furious and full of fire—Lucan’s kind of night. He had been burning inside all day waiting for this evening meeting.
 

The waitress returned with a fresh gin and tonic in a highball glass.
 

“The usual tonight?” she asked. Her eyes drifted down to the table, which was set for four.
 

“I’m entertaining,” he said. “Bring me two bottles of brandy, some crab cakes, your signature charcuterie collection, lox and capers, those fantastic marinated olives, duck crostini, and...”

He picked up a single-faced, leather menu. “What’s the chef’s special?”

“Freshwater salmon marinated in our private label white wine, with a pea and horseradish purée, fire-roasted beets and toasted almonds. For dessert, a banana flan with ice cream and cherry sauce.”
 

“Yep. Four of each, please. And did I order drinks?”

“You ordered two bottles of brandy, sir.”

“Make it four.”

His phone rang. As his hand went to his pocket, he realized he was supposed to pick up his daughter for the weekend.
 

He had promised her that he wouldn’t miss a weekend during campaign season.
 

He pulled his phone out, and her photo blinked on the screen, long blue hair and a missing top tooth.
 

She wanted to do a video chat.
 

He felt guilty for talking to her in a restaurant. He usually took her out for pizza.
 

He checked his watch. Maybe there was still time, maybe not.
 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said.
 

“Daddy, where are you?”

Madelaide was sitting on a couch with a backpack in her lap. She had been waiting for him, and she had even worn the new white dress that he had bought her.
 

What did he promise her last weekend?

Right, the zoo. Or was it ice cream? Or a hike? With that dress, it must have been to take her somewhere nice.
 

“I’m at a meeting,” he said. “It’s an important dinner.”

“With who?” she asked. “You promised to take
me
out to eat.”

“I’ll make it up,” Lucan said, crossing his fingers. He slanted his eyes as he smiled. “I think I’ll have room for magic pretzels, won’t you?”

Madelaide pouted.
 

“Hey now, I told you I’m running a campaign...”

“You promised!”

“I know.”

“Mommy says you aren’t going to be able to keep your promises.”

Lucan raised an eyebrow. “What did I tell you about bringing the seven-legged monster into this?”

“Mommy doesn’t have seven legs.”

“Not during the day.”

“You really shouldn’t be so mean. She never says anything bad about you.”

Lucan puffed. He wasn’t doing this tonight.
 

Celesse entered the restaurant, wearing a sleek white dress and carrying a black clutch. Her red hair was down to her shoulders and pulled to one side. Her makeup was expertly airbrushed.
 

“Gotta go, sweetheart. My dinner guests are here. I’ll see you tonight.”

Lucan blew a kiss and ended the call.
 

He stood as Celesse spoke to the maître d’. She surveyed the room, saw Lucan and waved.
 

Two people followed behind her. First was Tony in a faded t-shirt; his left arm was in a sling and he had a black eye. Next to him was a tall elven man. He wore a t-shirt like his son, and ripped denim jeans. He had a beard that was starting to gray, and he had an envelope tucked under his arm. He and his son glanced around the restaurant nervously.
 

The maître d’ stopped them. From his hand gestures, Lucan knew he was telling them they couldn’t enter.

Celesse said something, and after a moment of frowning, the maître d’ motioned them in the direction of Lucan’s table.
 

Lucan stood up and clapped slowly as they approached.
 

“Celesse, you look radiant as always.”

Celesse joined him and they sat down.