Sin's Dark Caress (6 page)

11

Draconis Familiaris

B
ianca stepped from the shower and slipped on a white fluffy bathrobe. With a swipe of her hand, she cleaned the steam from the mirror, then wrapped a towel around her wet hair and padded barefoot into the living room.

The sun shone brightly outside the kitchen window. It was so nice to see daylight again after working so many nights. She poured a cup of coffee and took it out to the terrace. Vincent and Kedrax were also out playing in the garden and enjoying the warm weather.

Bianca closed her eyes and leaned her head back to catch the late morning warmth. The scent of flowers and aromatic herbs planted in pots around the sheltered terrace relaxed her in minutes. She adored her little garden. When she moved into this apartment a few years back, this terrace had been bare concrete, but she'd seen the potential immediately.

Some of her herbs, while good for medicinal purposes, were also good at attracting insects and birds. Bees buzzed from flower to flower, and it made a lovely spot for relaxing and enjoying her morning caffeine hit while she watched them.

Vincent jumped onto the patio table and began cleaning himself.

“Hello, mister,” she said, scratching behind his ear. “Where's your new friend?”

The cat stopped cleaning for a moment to answer with a soft “M'ow.”

A blue head appeared on the other side of the little table, claws scrabbling for a grip on the weathered teak tabletop as wings beat furiously. Gravity won. The little dragon landed on the floor with a fat little plop. It had doubled in size since yesterday. He came around to her side and looked up with a sheepish tilt of his head. He flapped his thin leathery wings desperately trying to get enough lift to reach the table. She laughed and helped him up, then he walked across the table to Vincent.

“So, you're trying to fly,” she said as he folded his wings against his back while the cat gave him a consolatory lick to the side of his head.

“Vincent's teaching me to hunt. Today we caught three mice, five rats, and a pigeon and I thought learning to fly will help.”

“No wonder you're getting so fat. I hope you're being careful,” she said. “We don't want anyone seeing you.”

“People only see what they want to see. The lady downstairs calls me kitty-kitty and feeds us cream.” The dragon licked his lips in obvious delight. “The homeless man down by the Dumpster calls me Spot and keeps throwing a piece of tree branch, saying ‘Fetch.' ”

Bianca laughed. So did the dragon. Even Vincent purred.

She stopped. “You're just a baby, but you're growing so fast, and your speech is getting better too.”

“I've been watching late night television,” he said, and she could swear he grinned. “But while I'm in my juvenile state, I'm still very vulnerable.”

Kedrax tenderly pushed away the solicitous feline who'd continued to clean him and walked closer to the edge of the table near Bianca. He stood up on his hind legs, sat back on his tail, and crossed his reptilian front legs like arms across his chest. “Even though I've only just hatched, I'm older than I look. Older than the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, older than the Great Pyramids of Giza, older even than Stonehenge. I've mostly slept for nearly eight millennia in a petrified egg, but there've been periods of consciousness. Even more so lately.”

“Why now?” Bianca said.

The dragon shrugged his shoulders. “I don't know. Something is stirring. I can feel their presence.”

“The Dark Brethren.”

“No, I sense their presence, but something else is waking.” He scooted back across the table, craning his reptilian neck to watch her over his shoulder. “This is something else, something familiar.”

He circled and lay down beside the cat, resting his chin on his crossed front claws, but his eyes never left her face. Vincent twisted over onto his back, legs stretched out and purring as the warm spring sun toasted his ebony belly. The cat reached out one paw to make contact with the little dragon and Kedrax closed his eyes with a contented sigh.

The two animals had become inseparable. Even though the feline was easily three times his size, Kedrax was fast catching up, and quickly gaining the upper hand in the relationship.

Bianca breathed in the vibrant floral scent deep and looked around her garden. Marigolds and petunias added a flush of color—but that was nothing to what her little terrace would be like in full summer.

Kedrax lifted his head. “Why don't you try something?”

She smiled down at him. “I thought you were asleep.”

“You have to use your power sometime. Why not now to make your garden come to life the way you want it?”

I've survived this long without magic.
When all her friends were practicing at school, she'd had to hang back and do things the old-fashioned way.

You're afraid
.

“No I'm not. Hey, did you just say that in my head?”

Just like when you were younger.

He was right. The familiarity of it was strangely comforting. Bianca touched one of the rose bushes she'd pruned a few weeks ago. It would be nice to see the blooms. Up until a few days ago she'd never dreamed of putting her power into practice. Now, the energy flowed into her as she drew it from the sleepy dragon, and she began to spin the threads into a growth spell. As she touched the nearest bush, she opened her eyes again. The reddish-tinged new growth unfurled, enlarged, and darkened to green leaves. Tiny buds swelled and burst open with exquisite color and scent—smelling sweeter than they ever had before.

“Oh my.” Her breath stuck in her throat.

The dragon's childish laugh tinkled in the spring sunshine. It felt like her whole body was smiling.

“More?” the tiny creature asked.

Yes more
. Much more.

Shrubs and vines, trees, flowers and herbs. She wanted it all. While she could make things grow and bloom, she couldn't make things appear out of nothing. Magic didn't work that way. She closed her eyes and pictured what she wanted—a tropical garden paradise to rival the Garden of Eden. She went through in her mind what she'd do, palms here, orchids there, giant ferns with curly fronds. Energy tingled through her body as she practiced weaving the magic it would take to create the image of her little piece of heaven.

When she opened her eyes, her terrace had been transformed. Gone were the pansies and petunias, and in their place were the bird-of-paradise and lush ferns she'd imagined. Banana trees, palms, and leafy trees provided shady protection. Wisteria tangled in branches and along the supports. It looked just like the garden she'd always wanted. The sight of it unnerved her. She cut the energy off suddenly. The tree that had been twisting and growing seconds ago, withered and died. She fell back, a wave of exhaustion washing over her.

She glanced at Kedrax. His brilliant scales were dull and he seemed exhausted. “Are you all right?”

“You panicked,” he said, closing his eyes. “It released a backwash of energy . . .”

Seeing his weakness, Bianca was horrified. The amount of power it took to do something like this was astounding, and yet she'd done it so easily . . . almost without thought, as the spell weaving theory came back so naturally and instinctively.

She'd have to rein it in future. Witches' familiars were conduits—used to draw in the thaumaturgical energy for use by the magic wielder. Careless handling of energy could damage, even kill, a familiar. He was just a baby.

“I'm so sorry,” she said, hovering over the little dragon.

Vincent came over and gave Kedrax a nudge with his nose.

“It's okay,” the dragon said, reaching out to the cat with what she was coming to think of as his arm. “My body is not yet strong enough to take that much backwash.” He looked back up at her. “But it will be. The faster I mature, the faster I'll be able to reach my full potential, including my ability to handle the thaumaturgic energy.”

The cat turned tail and disappeared.

“I'm sorry, I really didn't mean—”

“Can you please stop saying that? It's as much my fault. I have to learn to protect myself as much as you, and now we both know there are limitations.” The little dragon's body quaked and shivered.

Bianca held his velvet soft body close to her chest. He felt a lot colder than he had a few moments ago. She carried him inside. “I'm so sorry,” she whispered as she turned on the fireplace and cranked it up as high as it would go. She placed his cold little body on the mat she'd laid out just for him.

Kedrax sighed and closed his eyes. He was definitely smiling. She sat back on the sofa just as Vincent raced in through the open doors carrying a large dead rat that he dropped in front of the pale dragon. Kedrax lifted his head and struggled to his feet, then ferociously fell upon the carcass. His color began to return as he fed, and Bianca sat back with relief and awe.

Then a loud banging at the front door startled her. She sat bolt upright and braced her hands on the edge of the sofa. “You'd better hide while I get this.”

She switched off all the heating and turned to check that the dragon was gone. Both he and Vincent were nowhere to be seen, but a bloody mess stained the mat where the dragon had fed. She folded it over and kicked it under the sofa to clean up later.

The banging grew more urgent, and she peered through the peephole. McManus leaned one hand against her door frame and swayed.

What's he doing here?

He lifted his hand and banged again.

“Hold on.” Bianca tied the belt sash on her robe a little tighter, then slid back the security chain and opened the door.

“About time,” he slurred, falling through the threshold and landing face first on the floor.

12

Drunk and Disorderly

“D
on't you dare barf on my carpet,” Bianca said, kicking his feet out of the way to shut the door.

He mumbled some incoherent abuse into her carpet as she stood over him and tucked her hands under his arms, trying to lift him off the floor. His body went limp as he passed out. She let him go and he groaned as his nose smacked into the floor.

Serves him right,
she thought with a perverse satisfaction.

Bianca sighed and shook her head. Better get him out of that soiled coat and off her floor. The strong stench of vomit hit her as she rolled him onto his back. He'd puked all over the front of his coat, but it was already half dry. She tugged at his left sleeve, slowly working it off his dead-weight arm, but it caught under his body. As she tried to roll him back onto his stomach again, he came to and staggered to his feet, slinging his arm around her shoulder and leaning against her. She threw her arm around his waist before they both went down.

He clumsily shook the coat off his arm and staggered with the effort. “Are you trying to get me into bed again, Sin?” His hand dropped to her ass and squeezed.

She pushed it away. “Not even in your best wet dream.”

“I've had plenty of those.” He moved dangerously close, lips puckered. “Some were even about you.” The alcohol fumes were almost enough to make her pass out but she easily ducked.

“Good for you, McManus,” she said. “Why don't I call you a cab?”

He pushed away and pulled his wallet out of his pocket. “I don't think I got any money.”

Something slipped out and fell to the floor as he searched the wallet. He staggered forward to pick it up and dropped the wallet as he almost lost his balance.

“Now be a good boy and sleep it off,” she said, catching him again before he fell.

She'd seen him like this a few times and knew to pay little attention to what he said. He pushed away again and tried to stand on his own, shaking his coat loose from the remaining arm and then fumbling with his belt. “C'mon, I can show you a good time.”

He gave up trying to remove his pants and stumbled forward, reaching for her.

She ducked under his clumsy attempt and moved toward the sofa. He followed. If she could just get him to . . .

He overbalanced. With a little push in the right direction, he landed not so gently on the sofa, moving it back a foot. He struggled to regain his feet but she pushed him back down.

“Don't you love me?” he asked as he reached and snagged her around the waist.

“Not right now,” she said, pushing his hands away. “You stink.”

“Nobody loves me,” he murmured in drunken self-pity as she wriggled out of his grasp. “They fired me.”

“They only suspended you, McManus,” she said, helping him to turn on his back and lifting his head to place a cushion under it.

He waved his hand dismissively. “Ahh, that's what they say now. But what if they don't let me back? What'll I do if I can't be a cop?” He looked up at her with genuine fear.

She stopped. He was a cop through and through. It's what made him so good at his job. It'd kill him to lose it.

“It'll all blow over,” she whispered, but his head lolled to the side as he passed out again. Bianca slipped off his shoes and went into the bathroom to wet a towel.

After cleaning him up a little, at least getting the sick off his face and shirt, she pulled the throw rug from the back of the sofa over him.

The small of her back ached. “Sleep well, you heavy son of a bitch.” And smiled as he threw his arm over his head and snuggled into the sofa.

Bianca scooped up his coat from where McManus had shaken it off. A vial of bright liquid fell out. She shook her head and put the Neon Tears on the kitchen counter, then picked up his wallet and the piece of paper that had fallen out, which turned out to be an old newspaper clipping. The edges were tattered, the ink blurring in the creases as if it'd been unfolded and refolded many times.

FROM TRAGEDY, A HERO IS FORGED

The headline screamed above a photo of a preteen boy, his face smudged with black. He held the hand of a young girl, no more than six or seven. Her thumb was in her mouth and tears marked tracks down her dirty face. One EMT held an oxygen mask over the boy's face, while another treated burns that looked to cover most of his body. Behind them, firefighters battled a blazing building.

The thing that pulled at her most were the boy's eyes; there was no mistaking that same haunted look he had to this day.

“Oh McManus,” she said softly, and reached out to smooth his hair back. “Why didn't you tell me?”

As if answering her, McManus let out a loud snort and rolled onto his side, his breathing quickly falling back into a steady rhythm. She'd had no idea he was one of the surviving orphans of the horrific fire that wiped out a special group of witches known as the Sisterhood.

Suddenly, so many things about him made sense. His utter lack of regard for authority, the drive to solve the case no matter what, and the constant emptiness he tried to hide, even from her.

In her own bedroom, she quickly changed into her pj's and slid into bed beside Kedrax, who lay on her pillow. She found it hard to sleep. The thought of what McManus had been through broke her heart. When Kedrax started to hum, she found herself nodding off as the dragon curled into the crook between her shoulder and her neck. His hum turned into a purr.

He must've picked that up from the cat . . .

B
ianca poured strong black coffee into a mug and pushed the lever down on the toaster. She felt surprisingly rested, given the events of last night.

A groan floated up from the sofa. “Do you have to bang around so loudly?” McManus croaked, and sat up cradling his forehead with his hand.

“What, like this?” She picked up a saucepan from the dish drainer and banged it with a wooden spoon.

“You're an evil woman, you know that, Sin?” He crawled to his feet, looking around and patting his pockets, and then did a kind of half circle as he searched the floor.

“You looking for this?” she held up a glass vial with a tiny amount of phosphorescent blue liquid in the bottom.

His momentary relief quickly morphed into a frown. “You snooping through my pockets?” His accusation hung in the air like a foul smell. “Would you like to do a strip search too?”

“Like I told you last night—” The toast chose that minute to pop up. “Hell no, and here, take your fucking drugs.”

She threw the vial at him as hard as she could, but he still snatched it out of the air with ease.

“And for your information, it fell out of your coat pocket.” The blade dug deeply into the toast as she spread butter with a little more force than she intended.

McManus headed for the bathroom without another word, and Bianca bit into her mangled toast. It was all she had in the apartment since she hadn't had time to shop recently. Working in Oberon's team had her doing as many nights as days even though she and Cody were supposed to be the day shift.

She was on her second piece of toast when McManus wandered back down the corridor, his hair damp and his eyes much brighter.
Too bright
.

“Look, I'm sorry,” he said softly. “You know what I'm like when I have a headache.”

“Hung over, more like,” she muttered, taking another vicious bite. “And there's no need to take it out on me. I was only trying to help.”

“I know, and thanks for the bed . . . well, couch.” He sighed. “Don't look at me like that, I have it under control. Okay?”

“Sure you do, just like your drinking,” she replied. “And because all junkies have their addictions under control. Right?”

“I'm not a junkie,” he growled.

Even he had to hear the lie in his statement, she thought as she placed more bread in the toaster with her free hand. “Look, I'm not here to judge. I just don't like seeing a friend do this to himself.”

Just as she was about to take another bite, he snatched the toast out of her hand and shoved half of it in his mouth, giving her a cheeky wink.

“Hey.”

“I know, and thank you.” His eyes crinkled in the corners when he smiled. She didn't see it often enough.

She poured him a mug of coffee and handed it to him just as more toast popped.

He took a large swallow, his eyes closing in appreciation. “I hope I didn't behave too badly.”

She looked up at him from under her eyebrows as she poured another cup for herself.

He huffed out a breath and rolled his eyes. “What did I do?”

“You tried to get me into bed,” she said.

“You're kidding, right?”

She arched an eyebrow.

“Oh shit, I'm really sorry. Especially after last time.”

“Was it that bad?” she asked, hurt that he found it so disappointing, even though she regretted it herself.

“I didn't mean it like that. Fuck. You know I don't really think of you that way.”

She arched her brow even higher and dropped her chin. “That's not what you said when you had your hand on my ass.”

Bianca had never seen him look so flustered and embarrassed. A blush crept up his cheeks to the top of his ears.

“Besides, never tell a woman you don't think of her ‘that way.' ” She grinned. “And never tell her you think of her that way either, especially if you're not involved. It's best just to keep your mouth shut.”

“Oh fuck.” McManus put down his toast untouched.

“Don't worry, I won't hold it against you,” she said, and smiled. “Much. Come on, get some food into you. You'll feel better.”

“Thank you,” he mumbled.

She picked up her coffee and leaned back against the counter. “Why do you do it?”

“The drugs or the drinking?” he asked, looking directly at her again.

“Both, I guess.”

He shrugged. “I don't know, sometimes to forget and sometimes to remember.”

“Remember what? The something in your past that you're not telling me about?”

“It's not important,” he said, avoiding her eyes. “Now what are we going to do about this case?”

“It's not going to work, not this time,” she said. “So don't even try and change the subject.”

“I don't know what you mean.”

“Something fell out of your wallet too.” She held up the newspaper clipping.

Blood drained from his face. “That's all in the past, let's leave it there.”

“When you told me you grew up in an orphanage, I had no idea it was the Sanctum of the Sisterhood.” She put her cup down. “Or that you were raised by witches.”

Shutters dropped in his eyes. “It never came up.”

This time she wasn't going to let it drop. “Fuck, McManus. You were there . . .” The words caught in her throat and she moved closer, touching his shoulder. “You were there at the end of the Sisterhood and their sanctum.”