Dragonproof - 9. Chapter 9

I stiffly made my way to the bed, and the next little while was filled with me hissing and trying to relax as he worked the balm into my skin. He kept muttering under his breath about how many bruises I had, and I decided to take that as both impressed and concerned.

“Are you normally this clumsy?” he teased.

“Manly, you mean,” I chided.

He laughed. “Okay. You are a very clumsy man.”

“It's not really the time to pick on me?” I suggested, a smile curling my lips despite my sore muscles.

“Is there really ever a bad time to pick on you?” he teased back.

I rolled over slowly and looked up at him. He was sitting on his heels and looking down at me with a little smile on his lips. My heart tripped a beat with the idea of everything happening right now and trying to make something with him at the same time.

“Hey,” I said softly.

His mouth twisted up in amusement. “Hey.”

I reached out and took his hand. “How are you doing?”

He tilted his head. “Uh, you know. Interesting question. I...haven't had any time to kind of process things, actually. Stuff is just...happening.” He let out a breath as he straightened his posture. “I think I'm just kind of in 'practical mode,' you know? I'm seeing things that need doing.”

I wiggled my eyebrows. “I'm glad you're looking at me when you mentioned 'things that need doing'.”

He stretched out beside me and rested his head on his hand. “Are you asking me to slow down enough to process this stuff?”

I hummed softly. “We have a little down time. I think I'd like to be here for you if you freak out or need answers.”

His eye narrowed a bit, and he smiled. “Good answer.” He got up and went across the room to wash his hands, and after drying them he went into the freezer and pulled out a package of meat, laying it on the counter to defrost. Then he turned and leaned his behind against the counter and regarded me steadily.

“Tell me about Hugo.”

I shifted on the bed to sit up a bit more and punched my pillow into a ball to help with that. Somewhat settled, I turned back to him. “Hugo's been dead a few hundred years. His stepfather was the one that created the stones that are giving us a bunch of trouble right now. His stepfather was trying to discover how to extend his life, and he thought you could do that by using memories – slices of life, powerful ones.” I shifted stiffly. “He'd tried taking whole lives before, killing slaves. Hugo discovered the remains, and his stepfather murdered him.”

“Jesus Christ,” Connor whispered. “Poor guy.”

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “Um. Hugo's remains are in the foundations of this apartment building – these old cities, they build right on top of older structures, so...anyway, he's tied here. He started appearing to me a few months after I moved in.”

“Are there other...ghosts? Here?”

I shook my head. “None I know of. Hugo's rare – I don't think ghosts communicate much with the living.” I looked away for a moment. “I think maybe he's a little lonely.”

Connor made a sympathetic sound. “So, the girl you met with this thing last night. What's her deal?”

I chuckled. “Mix of hormones and sudden understanding that she has some power inside her, more than the average person. She's...volatile, probably dangerous, even if she doesn't really mean to be. Blinded by short-term goals.”

“She sounds lovely,” Connor said with sarcasm. “What's your plan with her?”

I shrugged. “I'll try to steer her the right way, I suppose. Right now, that's not easy. She's pushing the limits of her abilities, trying to reach for things – but the wrong way.”

“Like what?” he asked, puzzled. I related how she seemed to like a boy and tried to force his emotions, making the kid – I think – cum in his pants a few times, but with no attachment to her. “Uh, that's... Um. Obsessive? Past stalker there, even if she didn't touch him.”

I nodded and let out a breath. “Things can be really unpredictable if you try manipulating people, magically speaking. Like...what the guy probably got was all her desire, like her wanting him to want her, but without a direction. He probably didn't even think of her, just felt way over-stimulated without any idea why.” I grimaced. “If she doesn't learn, I'm going to have to watch her closely. She can be just as monstrous as the things I've been running into lately.”

He frowned lightly. “How?”

“Think about it. You hate someone so you fill them with your rage and hate, next thing you know they are taking that out on someone else with no idea why. Or maybe depressing them to the point they take their own life.” I shook my head. “It might be less gory than a monster just trying to eat someone, but it's just as bad.”

Connor tilted his head. “It almost seems like you have...some experience with...something...I don't know.”

I looked away, thinking of my parents. “That's not a 'tonight' story,” I said quietly.

I heard him cross the room and felt the bed shift as he sat beside me. He took my hand and said quietly, “Okay. Not tonight.”

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

I woke to weak light coming in through the window and the sound and smell of something cooking. I rolled gingerly and was taken by the sight.

When I first got to town, I was scared, running from murderous parents without a penny or much of a clue about the world outside what my parents had...curated for us. That first year on the run was the hardest, coming to terms with the difference between theoretical knowledge and practical experience. My parents had taught us a lot, but it was to their purpose – the stronger the mind, the stronger the power, the more they could harvest.

I remember the screams and not really understanding anything besides that they were killing my brother. I didn't understand what they were doing right then. We'd learned about ways to increase power, mostly because – I think – it was part of a normal conversation about magical power. At some point someone will ask 'How do I get stronger?' Of course, you could go any number of ways with a response – and they had. They talked about practice and learning to maximize our own growth once we started to mature.

But one thing about humans: if you tell us not to do something, we usually want nothing more than to do that. If someone says 'Do not eat these cookies,’ you're going to want those cookies. So when my parents made it clear that some things were off limits, it made our collective ears perk up. Oh, sure, we tried and failed a few times. There were punishments, but there's always something about forbidden fruit and the recklessness of youth.

One of the things we weren't supposed to see was a few different grimoires. We were fascinated with the one on shape-shifting, but we couldn't manage any of it. I still dreamed about the elemental magic grimoire; the idea of being able to summon and throw lava around was both scary and enough to make you feel like a deity. But there was one. In all honesty I don't remember the title or anything else in it except harvesting. We teased each other about it, talking about stealing each other's power – but we didn't know the details, that it was nothing to laugh about.

After the struggle of my first year on the run, I found a bit of stability. Hitting up some ATMs, hexing and avoiding cameras because I'd been paranoid my parents would find me. Honestly, I'm not even sure I could find them myself now. But after all that, I was looking at Connor in a tee shirt and his underwear, standing at my tiny stove and cooking us breakfast.

I don't think I could ever say this aloud, but my heart swelled at the sight of him. It was so intimately domestic, and I had felt for the last few years that something like this would be impossible for me. But I look at him and a feeling settles on me. Possessive. Protective. Emotion swells and-

“Oh, you're awake. Did the sound of cooking wake you or the smell?” he asked, turning and giving me a little smile.

“The way you look right now woke me up. Raging boner.”

“Uh huh,” he said and laughed a little. “Let's get some breakfast into you and some medicine.”

“I kind of passed out last night. Did Hugo come back? No word?”

“I haven't seen him this morning, no,” Connor confirmed. “I have to think that means the night was uneventful.”

“Yeah,” I said absently.

“What? What are you thinking?”

I pursed my lips a little. “Not really sure. I just...I would have expected to hear from him, is all. One way or another.”

Connor turned and scooped food onto paper plates and brought mine over to me. “Let's not borrow trouble. Hugo knows what he's doing, right?”

I nodded absently. Something was bothering me, but I was just not able to clear my head enough to figure out what was lurking in the shadows of my mind. I couldn't imagine Hugo would stay away due to Connor; they'd met already, and Hugo wasn't someone I thought of as shy. I was shaken from my thoughts by the sound of Connor setting a glass down on my single nightstand, and then the sound of pills ticking as they were placed beside the glass.

“Have some food. Get some meds. It'll help your brain,” Connor said firmly.

I narrowed my eyes. “I don't remember you being this bossy before.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Get used to it.”

A smile crept onto my face as he got his food and settled in beside me. “Have to admit, when I had thoughts about us staying in bed all day, this wasn't what I had in mind.”

He grinned around his mouthful of food. Swallowing, he replied, “Well, me either, honestly. But you needed to recover. I'd hurt you right now.”

“I think I could risk-” I started to roll, and a muscle in my ribs protested. “Maybe after my ibuprofen kicks in,” I conceded.

He hummed and shook his head. “After your meds, another soak, and I'll get that ointment worked into you. At some point Hugo is going to show up, and you're going to need to move. Dicking down will have to wait.”

That was something to look forward to. “Fine,” I said with a petulant sigh. Realistically, he was right. I wasn't even all that horny at the moment. Maybe it was just the whole...he's here. He came back, walked into a dumpster fire with me, and he's still here. I swallowed the rest of my food, downed my pills and waited impatiently as he finished his food.

“I'll take the plates-”

“Later,” I said, pushing his hand aside. He set his plate aside and looked at me with a raised eyebrow. “You're hurt.”

“I am,” I agreed. I pulled him down by his shoulder, tucking him into my side. He lay against me gently, head on my shoulder and hand spread on my chest. “Just...ten minutes. Okay, Doctor Flynn?”

He reached out a bit farther, so his hand cupped my side, and nodded, his hair making a susurrus against my shirt. I tilted my head so I could push my nose into his hair. Yeah, this would work.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

Ten minutes ended up being more like 30, and I was sort of drowsy when Connor sat up and started prodding me to get in the tub. I think I said something about him considering a job in nursing, and he said something about needles.

Wasn't a kind conversation, in my estimation.

Once in the tub, a few undissolved salt crystals digging into my butt cheek, Connor sat beside me and picked up my hand. “I keep meaning to ask you. What's this mark on your hand? It kind of looks like a burn.”

I grunted and looked at the palm he'd indicated. Of course, it was where Tyrathaxion had marked me as his apprentice. Do I want to keep confronting Connor with the idea that so much of the world has been hidden from him? At what point does it become this far and no farther?

“You don't want to say,” Connor said, his tone a bit uncertain as he studied my face.

I frowned a little and studied his face. “Yes and no,” I finally said.

“Can I ask why?” he asked, much less hurt in his tone than someone might reasonably expect.

I nodded. “I...there's a lot to the world – the world I was born into – that is kind of...that probably feels like a curtain is being pulled back for you. I can't help but wonder how far back that proverbial curtain can go before you feel overwhelmed. It's not something I want for you, so I'm trying to....”

His lips twisted in a crooked smile. “Trying to feed me doses I can handle?”

I shrugged. “Something like that.”

He tilted his head. “Okay, fair. I mean...it took me a little time to get my head around the first part, and being realistic, I don't think I've fully processed the idea of ghosts being a real thing. But at some point...I want to know.”

I nodded and squeezed his hand. I wondered what his reaction would be when he heard about my parents. When he found out his boss – the guy who seems to have provided for him – was a dragon. How do you deal with your entire world changing, turning on its foundations? I’d had some experience with that, the sheer terror of discovering just what kind of humans your parents were. I had no ideas about people being innately good or evil, but I was distinctly aware of the ability for them to be evil.

It was hard to shake the thoughts of my parents once they set in, but I got a little help in that regard by the sudden crash of something being knocked down in the other room.

“What the hell?” Connor muttered, standing up and heading for the door.

“Wait!” I struggled to get upright, turning with less caution than I might have without the adrenaline that was spiking in my system.

“I could – okay, hang on,” Connor said, turning from the door and taking my arm. I got my feet under me and onto the towel he'd placed on the floor beside the tub. I moved in front of him and into the apartment, looking for the cause of the noise. I moved as cautiously as my body allowed, checking my surroundings as I made my way to the front door to retrieve my staff. If I was going to sling anything with any real magical juice, I'd rather not bring the building down.

Connor snorted, and I turned toward him. His hand was over his mouth, and it was plain he was amused.

“What?” I whispered.

He dropped his hand, but he was still plainly amused. “You're wet, naked and holding a walking stick. You're like...Gandalf: The Early Years.”

I pressed my lips together and tried to stand up a bit straighter, but he started to giggle a little at me. Ignoring him, I started scanning the room more carefully, not finding anything out of place – or at least nothing that could have made such a racket. I moved across the space to the small bedroom that I used for the tracking of incidents around the city and immediately spotted the chair on its side and a dent in my wall.

“Well. There goes your security deposit,” Connor said quietly. I snickered despite myself at his statement.

That stopped when Hugo flickered into being for a moment and bumped the table. Hugo can't affect the physical world. Just what the hell just happened?

“Was that Hugo?” Connor asked.

“Pretty sure,” I replied. I glanced down and then back to Connor. “I'd better put clothes on. Hugo doesn't like me nude.”

I think Connor made some sort of comment about Hugo's taste, but my mind was churning. Spirits can't affect the real world, in my experience, except in very specific circumstances. For one thing, I thought as I pulled on some underwear and tried not to wince, ghosts have trouble holding onto energy. They aren't empty vessels, but more like extremely porous ones. If they somehow get charged up they might act like a poltergeist, slamming things and banging around, because the energy has to go somewhere, somewhere outside them.

When Hugo'd absorbed that memory, he'd seemed more real than he ever had, but I figured the energy of it had dissipated – not enough power to send him bouncing like a pinball, but still. Porous. I thought back to his last appearance as I pulled on sweatpants and a tee shirt. He hadn't seemed to be any different, but had he been, in fact? I stood still and closed my eyes and just tried to picture him. Had he changed? Or was I just blowing smoke, trying to find evidence that wasn't there?

I grabbed my staff and took a deep breath. “Hugo? You there, buddy?”

“Yes.”

I looked around a bit. “Are you...having trouble manifesting?”

“I...a bit. Yes. I...feel.”

“You feel what?”

“I feel, Nico. I'm struggling to manifest because...when I do, it becomes overwhelming.”

I let out a slow breath, my lips close together. “Okay. Can you tell me what happened? What changed to make you this way?”

The room was quiet, and I looked around, trying to keep myself calm. If something was wrong with Hugo, there was no telling what could happen – within or without his control. I was into uncharted territory, and I needed to keep myself and Connor safe. Speaking of, Connor was only a few feet from me, frowning lightly in concern. I moved over to be nearer him, though in truth Hugo was a ghost, so if he could affect the real world, could appear anywhere and really meant either of us harm, he could, at least in his current state.

But...it was Hugo.

From the corner of my eye I saw Hugo flicker into existence, his eyes wide open and his mouth pressed tightly closed. Then he was gone. I gave it a beat, then two.

“Hugo?”

One, two, then three Mississippi's later he replied. “I'm here.”

I glanced around the room, seeing nothing, and asked if he was all right.

“I...feel odd. I remember...I went to Britney Goldfarb's apartment.”

I glanced at Connor. “Who?”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “Girl who bought the stone from my store. Keep up, Mr. Magic.”

I tilted my chin down. “I'll deal with you later,” I told him and then raised my voice to address the room. “Okay. What happened at her place, Hugo?”

As before there was a significant pause. I almost asked again if he was there, but then he replied. “There was nothing of note to begin with. It took some time to see...she was wearing the stone. On her neck.” There was a pause of several beats. “She was typing on her computer; one very similar to yours, Nico.”

“A laptop? Okay. Could you see what she was typing? Was it important?”

Quickly he replied, “I thought that myself. It appeared to be notes about creatures. She was writing notes about the Mare. It's apparently from Denmark. She didn't scroll through the previous pages, but she had notes she was transferring from a smaller device. It looked much like your phone does.”

“Huh. Then that kind of confirms she's got a big role to play in how these things have been manifesting. Question is....” I thought for a moment. “If she's somehow...researching? Could that be it? Researching and writing about these creatures from folklore, then...that doesn't track completely with the intention of the stones. She has no memory of those, just information. So how does this tie into the stone?”

“I'm not certain,” Hugo said, his disembodied voice seeming to come from everywhere at once. “What I can tell you is that the Mare appeared. Right on her chest, not long after she lay down to sleep. I knew she'd be dead before you could arrive, and given that it had some connection to the stone and the magic, I...intervened.”

“Intervened,” I said softly. “But, like you said, this wasn't a memory – not your memory, at the least. So it wasn't a simple matter of absorbing the memory. Is that right?”

After another long hesitation, he replied, “Correct. Previous memories felt like...a dream being remembered. This was...painful. As if being filled near to bursting, with no way to stop the pressure.”

I closed my eyes. “That sounds....”

“Horrible,” Connor said softly. I glanced at Connor, and he nodded at me. “What do we do?”

I ran my fingers through my hair. “We need information! I don't know how this is supposed to affect Hugo,” I said, my voice trailing off. “I wish you'd been able to wait until we knew more, Hugo.” I sighed. “How do you feel right now? “

“It's an odd sensation. I don't think I had the ability to feel previously.” There was a pause. “As time passes I feel as if I'm going between two points, one where I have more control and one where I'm spinning out of control. It's disorienting.”

The first place I thought to get more information would be Tyrathaxion, but his help might come with more of a price than it already had, and I wasn't sure what form that could take. Then again, as his apprentice he'd want me to learn, but the bigger problem was really...what to tell Connor. Was I putting him in danger by revealing one of the most powerful types of magical beings in existence? Was it even my place to blow Tyrathaxion's cover, given he'd been...what? Looking out for Connor? That was a mystery all by itself.

“Nico? What are you thinking?” Connor asked.

I glanced at him and frowned. “Trying to think about where to get more information.” I sighed. “Hugo, have you spoken to any other spirit? Is there any of them you could trust?”

“I...have never thought about trust. My...instinct goes against the idea. I think the energy I'm currently holding may be seen as a...challenge or...perhaps ignite a hunger in others.”

I nodded, remembering that Hugo had shredded VanHouten upon his death. Last thing I wanted was to subject Hugo to that.

“Nico? Your phone.”

I glanced at Connor and then at my phone, sitting on the single nightstand and buzzing. I was going to let it go unanswered, except that not many people have the number, so I picked it up.

“Uh. Haven't heard from you. Um. No more monsters, or anything. You know, in case you were interested.”

Oh.

“Hi, Char.” Seized with inspiration, I continued, “Hey, good thing you called. How do you feel about some recon work?”