Sleepwalkers sanctuary, p.3
Sleepwalker's Sanctuary, page 3
Reg caught herself biting her lip and sipped her drink instead. She breathed deeply, pretending that nothing about what had happened to Verity bothered her in the least. She had to admit that she’d had a few dreams, but she couldn’t see why thinking about what had happened to Verity would make her want to redecorate the house in her sleep.
“I haven’t been thinking about it very much,” she hedged. “Sometimes, but I keep busy with other things. I have my business to run and everything… I don’t have a lot of time for sitting around feeling sorry for myself. Or thinking about something like that. I didn’t even know Verity and couldn’t help what happened, so why should I spend time agonizing over it?”
“Well, she was burned to a crisp in front of your eyes. Most people would find that disturbing on some level.”
Reg rolled her eyes. “Of course it was disturbing. But it wasn’t… gruesome or anything like that. It was more like… she turned to stone and then crumbled into dust.”
“Oh, not disturbing at all,” Marta said sarcastically. “That sounds like a perfectly ordinary afternoon to me.”
“But when you say that someone was burned up, you think of… screaming and raw flesh and all that, and the smell. But it wasn’t like that. It was shocking, but it was… dry.”
Reg shook her head, unable to conjure the words to explain what she had seen and how it had affected her. Ember, her dragon, had only been protecting her. And defending himself and his gold. Verity had been a very powerful witch, and Reg could only imagine what kind of harm Verity could have done to her if Ember hadn’t acted when he had.
Verity had been an angry, vengeful woman, intent on getting her retribution on Corvin for having left her decades or centuries before, when she had been pregnant with John Saunders. Though Corvin hadn’t known—neither of them had known—that she had been pregnant.
It was a complicated and tragic situation. Corvin hadn’t treated Verity well, but he had been trying to protect her from himself and keep her from discovering his true nature. He hadn’t told her when they married that he was a power drinker, and it wasn’t until after John was born, inheriting his father’s curse, that Verity had learned the truth. It had been many years before she had sought Corvin out. Reg didn’t understand all of Verity’s motives, but believed that she had wanted John to become the leader of the coven rather than Corvin. She would probably have gladly taken the position herself, but the traditional coven was male-only, so there was no way she could be admitted to it, unless someone in authority changed the rules.
So she had groomed her son, preparing him to be initiated into the coven and to build himself up so that he would be able to take over the leadership of the coven in the future. Would they have waited until there was another election and others could challenge Corvin for the coven’s leadership, or would John have found a way to remove Corvin some other way once the coven trusted him?
Reg didn’t think they would have waited. Neither Verity nor John had shown much patience for the coven’s political processes.
“Reg?”
Reg looked across the table at Marta. How many times had her friend tried to get her attention while Reg had been lost in her own head?
“I don’t think it’s anything to do with Verity and John,” Reg said, waving the issue aside. “I don’t think I got up at night and redecorated because I was upset about Verity or John.”
Marta’s eyes were quick and intelligent. “Why are you upset about John?”
“I said I’m not.”
“But I never mentioned him. I never even thought about him bothering you. You’re the one who brought him up, so you are thinking about him and connecting him somehow to your dreams or being restless in the night.”
“No. That’s just because you were asking about Verity. John is her son and is the whole reason they were both here so, of course, that’s where my mind went. I’m sure it has nothing to do with either of them.”
“What is going on with John? Do you know?”
Reg shrugged. “No. I don’t have anything to do with him. And I don’t want to. He and Corvin are all buddy-buddy now, making up for lost time, and I don’t like…” Reg grimaced and tried to think of a way to end the sentence. She couldn’t very well say that she didn’t like John Saunders. “He apologized for how he behaved while Verity had a hold over him. He seemed sincere. But…”
“You don’t think he was sincere?”
“I think… Corvin told him to apologize. And… well, when I am around John, I can hear Verity whispering to him.”
Marta’s eyes widened. Despite Marta’s magical upbringing, Reg knew she didn’t believe in ghosts. Reg still didn’t understand how someone could know that there were real magic and psychic phenomena and yet not believe that spirits persisted after death.
“What does that mean?” Marta asked.
“I don’t know. It could mean all different things. Maybe her ghost is attached to him, but I couldn’t see her. Or maybe he’s just so used to her telling him what to do that he’s conjured up an echo in his mind so that he wouldn’t be alone. Just like… the voice of his conscience. Telling him to do things the way that she raised him to.”
“Yeah, that makes sense.” Marta nodded. She probably would have approved of any explanation that didn’t involve restless spirits.
“Anyway… I know enough to stay away from power drinkers.” Reg ignored Marta’s wry smile. “He caught me off guard once, and I won’t let that happen again. Being cursed is bad enough. But with a witch like Verity whispering in his ear, even after her death… Well, she was very cunning. She had this whole plan for getting him into Corvin’s coven and then taking it over. And now… I guess he’s one step closer to fulfilling her dream. He is not a person that I want to be around.”
“And what about Ember?”
CHAPTER SIX
Reg blinked and shook her head, frowning at the non sequitur. “What about Ember?”
“I mean… what are you going to do about him? Obviously, you can’t have a dragon flying around here, burning people up whenever the whim hits him.”
“He was protecting me,” Reg reiterated. “Would you rather that I was dead?”
“Of course not. I wasn’t there, so I don’t know… what could have been done to stop him or deal with it differently. I’m not second-guessing you.”
But clearly, she was.
“Ember didn’t do anything wrong. He was keeping me safe. I would be dead if he hadn’t stepped in.”
“Maybe,” Marta allowed. “But there were others there who could have helped. Corvin. John. Wilf wasn’t far away, and he’s an experienced warlock. Quite skilled, despite what you might think of him.”
“Corvin and John? Do you think that either of them would have fought Verity? That made it three against one. And Wilf didn’t come out of the shop until after everything was over; he wasn’t there. Trust me, I couldn’t have taken all three of them in a focused attack. There’s no way. They are all power drinkers and very powerful.”
“Verity wasn’t a power drinker,” Marta corrected.
“Not by nature, maybe. But she had John feeding her the powers he stole from others, so you can’t tell me that doesn’t qualify her as a power drinker.”
Marta shook her head. “It’s not the same thing. Corvin has given you or me extra power in a pinch. That doesn’t make us power drinkers.”
“Well, no,” Reg admitted. But she couldn’t understand how Marta could fail to see the difference in their circumstances. Reg accepting a little boost from Corvin when she was in dire need was not the same as Verity grooming her son to feed her his powers to transform her from being a witch with only mild or moderate powers to one whose aura had glowed so brightly with the stolen gifts that Reg could barely look at her. “But Verity was.”
Marta studied her, thinking it through. Reg was sure she would argue further, but the other woman eventually shrugged. “Maybe you’re right. Growing up in the magical community, I see it as black and white. Either a witch is born a power drinker or he’s—she’s—not. And Verity wasn’t born a power drinker. They are… like a different species. Or they carry a genetic defect. Something like that. They’re not the same as the rest of us.” Marta took another bite of her fish. “But if she uses someone else to steal powers for her, then practically, there is no difference. She is a power drinker.”
Reg nodded, satisfied. “And they were all there, against me, and there was no way I could have fought them all. Ember saved me. Just like he saved me when Verity tried to run me off the road.”
“Except he didn’t kill her when she tried to run you off the road.”
“She was just going to keep trying to kill me until she succeeded.”
Marta sighed. “I’m not saying that Ember did anything wrong.” Though clearly, that was exactly what she had meant. “I’m just saying… how are you going to keep everyone safe from him in the future? He can’t be allowed to run rampant around Black Sands.”
“He isn’t running rampant. He protected me. Once.”
“Twice.”
“Twice, then. But he hasn’t been ‘running rampant.’”
“He’s getting bigger. He’s going to get stronger and more hostile toward humans. He’s going to range farther. You don’t know what he might do, killing and stealing. That’s his nature, you can’t exactly tell him to stop or make him sit in a corner.”
“He isn’t like that. If he was doing things he shouldn’t, then I would explain it to him.” Reg didn’t admit that Ember didn’t always do what he was told, even when Reg did explain things to him clearly. He had his own ideas about things, his dragon nature, and the memories of his ancestors. One puny human telling him what he should and shouldn’t do wasn’t going to make much difference. So what was she going to do about him?
“Besides,” Reg went on, “I’m not the one taking care of him or training him. That’s up to Davyn. I’m just… I visit him and see how he’s doing. He doesn’t live right in town, so he isn’t trying to eat the townspeople. He stays on Davyn’s property. Most of the time.”
“He won’t, though,” Marta countered.
“I thought you didn’t know much about dragons. You haven’t ever seen a real one before. So how would you know anything about their real nature or whether they can be trained? Maybe it’s just like with dogs, that they can be loving family pets or trained to be vicious killers. Davyn is not going to raise him to be a killer.”
“I’ve read plenty about dragons, and—”
“But you haven’t ever actually had one, have you?”
Marta stopped. “No. Of course not.”
“I’ve seen a lot of movies about girls riding horses and winning championships. Does that mean that I know anything about training horses? That I can enter a rodeo or race, ride my horse to victory, and save the farm?”
“What farm?”
“Whatever farm. They always have to save the farm in those movies.”
Jessup shook her head. “No, I don’t know how to train a dragon. Or a horse. But I’m not sure Davyn does either. What qualifications does he have to train a dragon? Other than whatever he’s seen in movies.”
“He’s a firecaster,” Reg shot back.
Marta was taken aback. “What does that have to do with it?”
“Firecasters and dragons,” Reg spread her hands apart, inviting Jessup to see the obvious connection. “They both have the same abilities—the same nature. You should see Davyn with the dragon. They’re very… compatible.”
“And so are you.”
“Yes. That’s why Ember comes to help me when I need it. But I’m not the one taking care of him and training him every day.”
“I guess I should be talking to Davyn,” Marta conceded. “I’ll go out there one day and have a chat.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Reg was irritated. “Why is it any of your business?”
“I am charged with keeping the peace in Black Sands.”
“People, yes. But you don’t have any jurisdiction over dragons, do you? Or over how they are trained?”
“I have all kinds of law enforcement responsibilities, including bylaw enforcement.”
“You have bylaws about how dragons are kept?” Reg asked in disbelief. Everyone who had seen Ember so far had said they had never seen a real dragon in person before. So how could Black Sands have any laws about how dragons were kept?
Marta couldn’t help chuckling at that. “Not specifically, but we have pet bylaws and animal husbandry bylaws. Stuff about keeping exotic pets and allowing other people quiet enjoyment of their properties. There are laws about animals that are deemed to be dangerous. If you have a dog that has bitten someone, for example. So…” she shrugged, “we have a lot of laws that can apply if you decide to raise a dragon within the municipality.”
“But he’s outside the town limits,” Reg pointed out triumphantly. “So those rules don’t apply.”
“Our jurisdiction extends beyond the town boundaries, and other laws apply to the unincorporated areas. We can’t have people running puppy mills or doing other things that put animals or humans in danger.”
Reg pushed food around her plate. “Ember isn’t doing anything to harm anyone. And we’re not doing anything to hurt him.”
“Except that he did incinerate Verity.”
“That’s one person and it was self-defense. My life was in danger.”
Marta rolled her eyes. “I think we’re due for a subject change. There’s no point in us going back and forth on it. I think it’s pretty clear that there is a potential for harm, but you’re not going to back down on your position.”
Reg shook her head and looked away. “No one around here knows how to raise or train a dragon. So you’ll have to trust Davyn to do what he can and hope for the best. What are you going to do? Say that Ember has to be sent away somewhere? Where? There aren’t exactly any family members that will take him in. Any kennels that will put up dragons. And there are laws about endangered magical species, you know. You have to abide by those too.”
Reg had been educated on several aspects of endangered magical species by Julian Sabat, a magical investigator for the Endangered Species Division. Reg still couldn’t wrap her mind around it, but she knew that such creatures were afforded certain protections, whether they were dangerous or not, and you couldn’t go around taking them out of their natural habitats.
“So… I’ve been looking into some interesting reports down by the waterfront,” Marta said, stubbornly ignoring Reg’s words and plowing ahead with the subject change she had suggested.
Reg rubbed her forehead. She was tired after her disrupted sleep of the night before, and Marta was probably right. They weren’t going to get anywhere by arguing. “Yeah? What’s happening down at the waterfront?”
“There has been a series of attacks on people walking on the beach or frequenting establishments along the waterfront.”
“Attacks? What kind of attacks?” Reg’s stomach tightened. Hearing about random attacks brought back memories of the draugrs the Witch Doctor had unleashed upon Black Sands. She did not want to face anything like that again.
“So far, nothing fatal,” Marta reassured her. “A few minor injuries, people being hit or yanked around. I don’t know whether it is an inept mugger, some kind of gang thing, or what. We can’t get a reliable description. People never seem to get a good look, and all have different impressions of their attacker. Tall, short, fat, thin, none of them can agree.”
“You think it’s a mugger?”
“Don’t really know. He hasn’t taken anyone’s money or held them up at gunpoint or anything like that, but he’s grabbed for purses—or that’s what a couple of women have said, anyway. He hasn’t actually gotten them and made off with them, so I have to doubt whether he’s really trying to snatch purses, and might just be grabbing for their shoulder to try to get them to go with him or talk to him.”
“Go with him where? Does he say anything to them?”
“Nothing coherent. A growl or some muttered words. I’ve gotten reports of things like ‘come here’ or ‘I need you.’ Nothing too helpful, I’m afraid.”
“Weird.” Reg speared a couple of pieces of pasta. “Do you think it’s something… paranormal? Or just… a regular person out causing trouble?”
“I don’t have any idea what it is yet. We get all sorts here.” Marta sighed. “As you know.”
“But you don’t think it’s anything like… draugrs.”
“Draugar? No. These attacks aren’t anything like that. Most of those people were killed in their beds. Behind closed doors.”
“And you don’t think it’s… I don’t know… werewolves?”
Even though she said werewolves, that wasn’t what Reg had been thinking. She remembered being at the harbor with Corvin and seeing two women working together, a mermaid and a siren, trying to lure unsuspecting men to their deaths.
“Werewolves?” Marta laughed. “Where do you come up with these things, Reg? There haven’t been werewolves in this part of the country for decades.”
“Well, there weren’t any dragons around either, were there? That doesn’t mean that there aren’t any now. I would think they would be able to travel in their human form, wouldn’t they? They could get in a car and tootle over to Black Sands whenever they pleased. From anywhere in the country. From anywhere in the world, if they can ride on planes or boats.”
“But…” Marta seemed at a loss for words. “I don’t know. I suppose they could get around. But they like to hunt in packs, and these have been individual attacks.”
“If there aren’t many around, then it could just be one lone wolf.” Damon had once referred to himself as a lone wolf, and Reg couldn’t help considering, if just for a moment, the possibility that Damon was a werewolf.
She didn’t know the warning signs or how you could tell if someone could shift form. And she didn’t know how many legends about werewolves were actually true. Did they shift when they saw the full moon? Could they change at will? Did they have any control over the process? She thought that werewolves must be hairy when they were in human form, and Damon wasn’t a particularly hairy man. But it was modern day, and werewolves could shave or have electrolysis. They didn’t have to walk around looking all shaggy.
