Dragonproof - 4. Chapter 4

Once back home, I stayed quiet and let Connor work. He said something to me on occasion, but for the most part the apartment was filled with his fingers on the keyboard and my cutting and cooking in the kitchen.

“Ready to eat?” I asked him as I placed my hands on his shoulders. He leaned back a little and looked up at me.

“God, yes. I am so ready for a break!” He smiled at me and started to put his things away. I brought dinner to the table and enjoyed the surprise on his face.

“Sorry mac and cheese wasn't on the menu tonight,” I said and stuck my tongue out.

The corner of his mouth pulled up in amusement. “This looks great. Thank you for cooking,” he said.

I just smiled and sat down with him. “So, I'm not sure I asked. What are you studying in school?”

“I'm going for a business degree,” he said as he speared a piece of chicken. “You can do a lot with it, I'm told, even though I don't know what I want to do besides not starve.”

I nodded, mouth full. He was being practical with his education, that's for sure. Remembering I had wine in the fridge, I held a finger up and scampered over to pull out the bottle and grab glasses. Not wine glasses, but glasses.

“Oh, wow, you're spoiling me tonight!” he said with a chuckle as I poured a half glass for him.

“So, living on your own?” I asked. “Your parents must be far off?”

He chewed more slowly and swallowed. He set down his fork and sipped the wine as the silence grew, and I felt increasingly as if I'd crossed a line. He glanced at me over the glass, swirling the liquid inside.

“My mom passed when I was six. I never knew my father. Mr. Tyrath, my boss?” he asked, and I nodded that I remembered him. “He has been around as long as I can remember. He has looked out for me. There were some nice people I lived with until I was ready for college, courtesy of him. They did their best, I think, but they were hired.” He looked down for a moment. “He's not a parent. Kind of like an uncle you don't really see except for a birthday, maybe.” His gaze met mine. “I have no idea why he's helped me, and I never wanted to ask. I mean I did, but I don't.”

“Wow. He's a heck of a guy,” I replied, wondering why the hell a dragon would protect a human child for any reason.

“He's been a savior,” Connor agreed quietly. “He's not big on speaking, so I don't really know why he acts as he does. I used to wonder if he was my father but...as you can see, he and I look nothing alike.” He laughed ruefully.

“Well, your mother must have been a fashion model,” I said, and he smiled a bit.

“How about you? Large family?” he asked.

I nodded slowly. “Kind of, yes. We don't get along. I moved away, left no forwarding address.”

“I'm sorry,” he said quietly.

“Don't be. I'm not letting it affect my present, that's for sure,” I said to him and smiled. Naturally, I'd left out quite a bit of detail, but there was no real reason to jump into any of that at this stage, was there?

He smiled at me. “So, we both have awkward family histories.” I nodded as I chewed, and he tilted his head. “So why did you buy that little trinket yesterday?”

“Never seen anything quite so ugly. Had to have it,” I said with a grin. He tilted his head and gave me a light smile. I knew it wasn't the answer he wanted, but I wasn't sure how much to say yet. Hedging, I said, “There's something unusual about it. I wanted more time to focus on it, but when you're around, I'd rather focus on you.”

A pleased look crossed his face, and he sipped from his glass, perhaps to hide that fact. “It was part of an estate,” he said, replacing the glass and looking at me. “I remember it only because there were a few pieces like that, and for some reason I felt kind of dirty handling them.”

“How do you mean?” I asked.

He hesitated for a moment before saying, “It can be a little unnerving to go through a dead person's things. In some ways, it's like an adventure – seeing what they were interested in, what mattered to them, the kinds of furniture they favored – you name it. But sometimes, it feels...I feel like an intruder.”

“Why?” I asked quietly.

He looked away for a moment. His lips pursed and then relaxed, and he looked down at his plate. “Sometimes we get the whole contents of a house. Picture frames with old photos still inside. Diaries or other personal papers. Sometimes there will even be legal records of some kind – birth, death, marriage – that sort of thing.” He looked up at me. “The estate that bauble came from had books, furniture, clothes and all sorts of weird jewelry.”

I felt a chill run up my spine. What if there were other bits of jewelry like the one I had in the other room? How many of those things did VanHouten make? How many souls were captured in order to steal memories intended to fuel a life of some sort? I also had to wonder how it was that Connor could pick up on the energy stored in the stone enough to feel uncomfortable touching it. I really wanted to talk to Hugo, but if Connor might have trouble with my magical nature, I can only imagine how he'd react to Hugo.

“I guess that sounds strange,” Connor said quietly, looking uncomfortable.

“I don't think so,” I said quickly. He glanced up at me, and I gave him a reassuring smile. “I can easily see how you could feel one way or another about those objects. Sometimes when I see long-dead people in pictures from past eras, it makes me a bit uncomfortable.”

He got a thoughtful look on his face for a moment, and then he nodded and gave me a half-shrug.

“So, you said that was a large estate. Is that unusual?” I asked, trying to get more information without just asking what I wanted to know.

“We get a bit of all things. Mr. Tyrath spends a lot of time traveling on buying trips.” He chuckled and said, “Honestly, I don't know how he makes any money. We don't sell that many things.”

“You said there were more pieces like the one I bought?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said slowly, a line creasing his forehead. “I think there were two or three that were similar. They had common stones and poor craftsmanship as far as the setting. I'm pretty sure they were for sale just because of the stone. I'm sure someone could cut them a bit and put them in a decent setting and make a good profit. If there were such things as real jewelers anymore.”

“True,” I said quietly. Not seeing a way to glean anything else without things getting awkward, I changed the subject. “So, um, did you make any progress on your paper?”

“More than I thought I would,” he said and smiled slyly at me. “I have to admit, it's a pleasant surprise.”

I let my fork dangle as I looked at him. “If I recall, it was you who didn't even say hello when he came into my home – just started kissing me and pulling on – or off, really - my clothes.”

He blushed a tiny bit and smiled widely, and his voice became playfully sexy. “I was horny. What did you expect?”

“I'm just pointing out I seem to be the one who's being painted as a sex fiend, when you seem a little closer to deserving that title.”

“Is that a problem?”

“I didn't say that.”

“But Nico...what if I'm just after you for sex?” he asked, mocking me.

“Then it's sex you'll get,” I said sternly. I moderated my tone, aiming for something more hopeful. “And afterward you'll lie with me. Then I'll make you coffee in the morning, and the entire time you'll be very, very naked.”

“Take off your clothes,” he said, smiling at me but not moving from his meal. I raised an eyebrow at him. “Nico,” he said with a grin, “I'm done with dinner. Where's my dessert?”

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He was vaguely embarrassed that I wouldn't let him put so much as a thread on his body. It wasn't so much a prelude to more sex, nor even that I couldn't see him nude enough. It was the feel of him beside me, the taut elasticity of his smooth skin and the warmth that spread from each point where we came into contact with each other. We'd left the bed some time before so that we could be comfortably tangled on my used couch while we watched TV on a set I'd swiped from thieves – I wasn't one, so no honor lost there – which was connected to stolen WiFi. Ah, hypocrite am I.

“So,” he said, his fingertips idly running up and down my forearm. “What is so special about that piece of junk you bought at the store, huh?”

“What do you mean?” I asked, nuzzling his hair and wishing he'd stop about the imbued stone.

He purred lightly at my touch, but then leaned forward a bit and out of my nuzzling range. I looped my arm around him, pulling him back toward me and caressing a nipple. He growled, not an entirely unpleasant sound, but then he pulled away and stood up. He looked down at me and narrowed his eyes.

“You're trying to distract me,” he said, his tone slightly accusatory. I pushed the blanket off me and raked his body with my eyes.

“What do you mean?”

He crossed his arms, and my gaze made it to his face. Oops.

“Nico. Do not lie to me. Especially not over something so small.”

I'd seen enough movies to know this plot hole – one I screamed at every time I watched something with a similar theme. I knew that the hero had to make mistakes. They had to proceed from a false assumption or try to hide something when they shouldn't; that created conflict, which drove the movie or TV show along its melodramatic way. I'd had plenty of conflict in my life. Was it dangerous for Connor to know what I could do? Only if a really weird set of events were to come to pass. Like my parents pumping him for information.

I sighed. “We should probably put some clothes on for this,” I said to him quietly. I was concerned about telling him, mostly because I was afraid he wouldn't believe me. I could demonstrate things, of course, but people are so used to magicians, optical illusions and CGI that something I do looks just like a special effect to them. Cool, but not all that impressive. Unless it's fire. Then they might freak out a little. Bad story, something for another time.

“Why?” he demanded. I debated just putting him to sleep, but I didn't think that would be a good thing, long term. I decided to show him, instead and let the chips fall as they would...though for once, could the universe let me have this one?

“I'm a magus, Connor. I practice the art. Magic.” I said this as I looked down at the floor, keeping my voice low and steady.

“I....” His bare feet moved closer in my field of vision. “I don't understand. Is it a prop or something? Why aren't you looking at me?”

I looked up at him. In his own Connor-like way, he was damn perfect. Please, universe.... I stood up and crossed over to the door. My staff leaned in the doorway, and I picked it up, let out a breath and turned back to face him. There was a question plain on his face, but I put it as far out of my mind as I could. I let out a breath, drew one in to steady myself and focused on his feet.

“Leviter,” I said quietly. His feet lifted up perhaps six inches off the ground, and then I remembered he had ankles. With a squawk he pitched backward onto the couch. I sighed.

“What the hell was that?” he asked, sitting up on the couch and looking at me. “How did you trip me?”

I tilted the staff toward the couch and lifted my hand, palm up. “Leviter,” I said more forcefully. The couch jerked slightly and then lifted up in the air about a foot and hovered in place. It was an old spell, something we kids had enjoyed messing around with. There is nothing quite so satisfying as levitating a sibling's bed – with them fast asleep in it – and then letting it drop to the floor.

He was giving me an odd look, one of confusion. He probably thought I was trying to trick him somehow. I walked over to my bed and sat on the corner, leaning my staff against my leg.

“It'll last for a little while. Go ahead and look for wires and whatever else you think might explain this.”

He tilted his head toward me slightly and asked, “Why? Can't you just tell me?”

“I could,” I said slowly. “But I don't think you'll believe me.” I looked into his eyes and said quietly, “People never do. But I want you to believe me. I think I may need for you to believe me. So...please. Check out my old couch.”

He frowned at me lightly. “If I do that, I have to expect that you've already made sure there isn't anything for me to find. I mean, that's logical. Kind of like a stage magician will let the audience member look for the missing person or something.”

I nodded slowly, following his logic. I took hold of my staff, muttered my trigger word as I looked at his chest, and just like that he was floating about a foot over the top of the couch, wide eyed and open mouthed.

“How...?” he asked, looking down at himself and over at me. I stood and walked over to him, reaching up and touching the side of his face with my fingers. He looked at me in wonder. I hoped this would work. Lying to him certainly wouldn't have.

“I am a magus. I can use magic to affect the world around me.” I tilted my head slightly. “In order for me to tell you the truth about the stone, you have to understand why I'm interested in it. You might feel like...this is some elaborate trick, but I can't lie to you. I won't.”

“Would you, um, please put me down?” he asked softly. I nodded, and another muttered word let him drift down to land lightly on his feet. He hesitated for a moment and then crossed over to his discarded clothes. I stood still as he pulled on his shirt and slid jeans up his legs. He cleared his throat and turned around to face me.

This was uncharted territory for me. I'd had some flings, had even felt something beyond lust for a few people. Ultimately, things hadn't gotten this far. There were questions I couldn't answer, which led to suspicions and accusations. I'd never really developed into a good liar, I don't think. There was something about Connor that made me ache for more time like we'd enjoyed today. A big part of me didn't want this to be over.

“I'm not sure how to feel,” Connor said, breaking the silence. “Part of me feels like there is some huge trick being played on me.”

I took a step closer. “It's no trick, I swear to you,” I said to him solemnly, yet my voice wavered.

“Another part of me thinks that maybe, you know, you may need some help,” he said caution creeping into his voice. I waited, not replying to the idea I might not be all there upstairs. That possibility has crossed my mind once or twice. He sighed slowly and said, “If I were to...believe you...I don't know where that leaves us. I'm getting a feeling I should probably go home and think this over.”

I sighed and tossed my staff onto the still-floating couch. “If you go, you won't be back,” I said resignedly.

“Why do you say that?” he asked a little stiffly. I wandered to the couch and pushed it back into place before sitting down, facing him. “Because you don't want to believe. It changes everything you think you know. The longer you spend away from me - from this - the more you'll believe you never floated a few feet off the ground. It'll be easier for you to think there was just some trick that you can't explain.”

He frowned thoughtfully and sat on the edge of the bed. “I...can see that, I guess. Rationalizing something away.” He looked at me and asked, “But how would I ever accept that magic is a reality?”

I pursed my lips just a bit. “I can show you, but I can't make you believe me.” I shifted forward a bit. “I don't tell people, Connor. I don't run around shouting about this stuff. People would think I'm crazy or dangerous at worst or some kind of prankster at best.”

“Then why tell me?” he asked quickly, pouncing.

“Because I feel...something for you,” I said, the truth of the words feeling strange inside me. “Your big rule is not to lie, not for a relationship and I'm doing my best not to do that – to not even try to mislead you.”

Silence held court. I shivered and stood slowly, moving to my dresser to pull out a tee shirt and a pair of sweatpants. I could pick up the clothes I'd been wearing before, but they were by Connor, and I wasn't sure how he'd feel about me getting close to him right now.

I heard him moving, and I placed my hands on my dresser, stilling their sudden tremors. I heard him zip his bag. I heard him as he forced his feet into his shoes. I heard his steps as he approached my front door.

“Why did you buy that piece of junk from my store?” he asked, breaking my unconscious effort to track his movements.

I turned to look at him and felt a let-down as I was proved correct. He was completely dressed, hoodie and all, bag over his shoulder. He was looking at me with cautious curiosity.

“Because it's imbued,” I said quietly, resigned to him leaving.

“What does that mean?”

“Someone created a spell that is bound to the item. Something that doesn't wash off or fade easily. I don't know what it does, but it's probably why you felt dirty - your words - when you handled it. I'm trying to understand what it does and why.” I watched his face as I spoke, looking for a sign of what he was thinking. His expression was remarkably neutral, though.

“Okay,” he said slowly. “I'm, um, going to go home now.”

I slumped. “Okay,” I whispered.

“If you're so full of magic, you could just stop me, right?” he asked as he placed his hand on the doorknob.

I nodded.

“Then why don't you? It looks like you don't want me to go.”

I sighed. “Being here is your choice. Not something I get to decide for you.”

He nodded slowly. “I need to think. I'll see you in a few days.”

I snorted, crossed my arms over my chest and looked away from him.

“Hey!” he said sharply, and I turned to look at him. His expression was defiant, and he said, “I said I'll see you in a few days. So I will.”

Something in my chest shook, but I managed a curt nod at him before he left the apartment, the door closing with a soft click. In my peripheral vision Hugo shifted into visibility, but I didn't say anything to him. I felt a little out of control, a little twisted up about what had just happened. A little angry with myself that I'd let my desire to ease my loneliness get my emotions all tangled up. So what if I felt better when Connor was around? So what if watching TV with him was more fun? That means you spring a secret like magic on him? Not smart, Nico. Not smart.

“I may have some news,” Hugo said quietly.

I wasn't sure if I could focus on anything Hugo might have uncovered, but I needed to try. I rubbed my hands over my face tiredly and turned to face him. “What have you found?”

“I've been looking around the area we've been mapping out,” he said in that same quiet tone. “I haven't found the cause, but I have found the next creature.”

Shit. “What is it?”

“A troll.”

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I'd been too keyed up to sleep and had spent the better part of the night researching trolls and what could hurt them. The list was kind of long, but the only real way to get rid of them was daylight. Their hides were exceptionally tough, though probably not fireproof, and conjuring up a little fire fit my mood. They were very strong, though slow-witted; I hoped that would give me an edge.

The research had given me a focus, but after a few hours things had gotten very repetitive, and I was all trolled out. I decided to have a closer look at my ugly jewelry purchase – made uglier by my interaction with Connor earlier. I decided to study the crappy little bauble, but before I did, I figured I should ask Hugo for information about the gems – at least if he was willing.

“Hugo?” I asked, and he flickered into view in response.

“Yes?”

I sat on the edge of the small table where the bauble rested. “I'm going to apologize before I ask this, and I understand if you don't want to discuss it.” I glanced at him, and he looked back patiently. “I wanted to ask you about these gems that VanJerkface made.”

His eyes softened, and the corner of his mouth turned up. “I've had plenty of time to think about them,” he said easily. “I was simply surprised to see one in your possession.”

“I've only seen a handful of imbued items,” I told him. “I don't even know what this one does. When you popped in before, I was looking at it to try and figure it out.”

He nodded. “VanJerkface, as you call him,” he said as the corner of his mouth tugged up a bit farther, “made three gems that I know of. He believed that using the energy created at the time of a person's physical death would capture their essence or soul, which could be tapped into later to extend one's own life.”

“That's pretty ghoulish,” I said with a frown.

“Indeed. His first stone was a success and a failure. He did manage to store the energy, but in releasing it, he destroyed it. He was upset but considered it simply an experiment to learn from.” Hugo paused. “I should mention that he had many failures before this partial success.”

I looked at him steadily. “You mean he killed a bunch of people in failed attempts.”

“Correct,” he said. “As he continued his...studies, he decided that memories were the key. He had a theory that potent memories were what would drive his attempts at immortality. He said that people don't recall the minutiae of their lives, only the big things. The potent things, they live on.”

I nodded slowly. It's true. You don't really think about the small things that make up the daily routine of your life. At some point things become automatic and expected. No one tells people about the mundane parts of their day, for the most part. That they got up and hit the bathroom – no, usually that gets skipped over in favor of making breakfast or the divine pleasure of that first cup of coffee. Even those paled against the big things – falling in love or a flashbulb memory of where you were when something momentous happened.

“Do you think he'll be back?” Hugo asked in the same quiet tone he'd used just after Connor had left.

I sighed. “I hope so, Hugo. I really do.”

He flickered in place but didn't move. “I'm sorry he didn't react well.”

I looked up at him. “Thanks. You were right, of course. People don't understand. I...guess I'm lonely. And I like him.”

Hugo nodded solemnly. “I understand being lonely.”

“I'd guess you do,” I agreed. We were silent for a few moments, and I turned over how I'd answered Conner's question earlier. I'm not sure how I could have handled it differently, to be honest. If I'd started to explain, he'd have thought I was screwing with him. If I'd lied...I think he'd have known. Worse, I knew that the one thing I couldn't do was lie to him. That would have broken the fragile relationship we were building. I hoped we were still building.

“So,” I said thickly. “What else can you tell me about these stones?”

“I'm not sure anything I know would be useful. I'm not sure how he made them, and if I did, I wouldn't tell you.”

“Yeah, I get that. I'm not looking to recreate his work. What I....” I paused, almost as if my mouth had been switched off while my brain ran ahead to connect dots, or try to. The idea behind the gems was to extend his life – translating the momentous events of a person into something tangible to feed one's own...soul? Life force?

“You said...the first stone was a success because he captured the energy, but then a failure because when he tried to use it, he lost the energy?”

“Yes. At least, that's what I understand from the things he said,” Hugo replied.

“Hugo, it...sounds like you knew what was going on. Why did you stay?” I asked, distracted from my thoughts.

Hugo looked at me as if I were stupid. “I found out much more after I died. I didn't realize the slaves’ deaths were due to his so-called work. Do you think I'd have stayed if I thought the man was going to kill me?”

I blinked a few times and said, “I just thought I'd ask. You didn't mention when you found out any of this stuff. I figured you could have stayed to protect your mother or something.”

He snorted and crossed his arms. “She was one of his followers.”

I frowned. “I'm sorry.”

“I'm not. She knew what he was doing and would have been fine with the situation. It just so happens he ran out of subjects.”

I thought for a minute. “So, you said these things were supposed to, what, steal memories? That was how they worked?”

“It was the idea,” he said with a slight nod. “I don't know how he planned to get the energy transferred into himself, but I do know that keeping the stone close to the skin is how it siphoned off...whatever it did.” He looked at me intently. “I have no memory gaps – didn't when I was alive. I don't know if this thing collects by copying or...what, exactly.”

I let out a sigh. “What happened to old Van whats-his-face?”

Hugo smiled maliciously. “If you can believe it, he died.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“He'd killed so many slaves and squandered so much money replacing them with his earlier experiments that he turned to my mother and myself. When he released the energy from the first gem, it exploded. It deafened him in one ear and broke the glass from the window in his workshop. It was that incident that made him think that souls, if that's what he'd trapped in the gem, were too powerful. He wanted more time to study, so he settled on memories as the essence of a soul. So, he gave me a ring, with a stone, and my mother a necklace. Each was imbued.”

I stayed silent for a moment and then asked, “Why did he kill you, Hugo?”

He looked up at me and took on a sad expression. “He'd listed our slaves as missing. Posted rewards. I found what was left of them.”

I let out a long breath. “I see. And how he died?”

His expression shifted into malicious glee. “The exertion of killing me and disposing of my corpse caused him to have a heart attack.”

I shook my head, and the corner of my mouth pulled up. “I guess you take your wins where you can get them, huh? What about mommy dearest?”

He looked away, his expression distant. “She lived for some time afterward. More comfortably than she deserved.”

I turned that over and decided there wasn't much to say. I glanced down at my desk and looked at the bauble that was so much trouble. “So, if it works by touch, I guess rule number one is not to touch it, right?” Thinking of Connor and how he'd felt handling it, I blurted out, “Hey, Connor touched this. Is he in danger from it?”

“I'm very sure he isn't,” Hugo replied. “It takes time. I wore that stone for at least a year.”

I looked down at it and back up to him. “This was yours?”

He nodded slowly. “It's supposed to collect violence, violent thoughts or actions.” He paused and looked up at me. “Or rather, the emotional memory of them. I think. I could be wrong, of course.”

“Hmm,” I said to myself as I sat down and looked closely at the gem. “You say you don't know how he released the stored energy? Or memories or whatever?”

“No, I don't. His problem – among other things – was in trying to transfer the energy. Releasing it rather than directing it should be much simpler, don't you think?”

I pursed my lips and thought for a minute. “Hugo, I'm going to try something, but I'm not totally sure how it'll go. Maybe-”

“No. You should leave it be for now. We have a monster loose – much more important.”

I sighed. “Yeah, you're right.”