Page 23

Tuesday, April 28, 2167

The Fringe

Dragon Heights, Wyoming

Takinga claw to the side made a mess of things. Had the mercury dragon wanted me dead, I would have made easy prey for him. Instead of prematurely reaching my expiration date, I woke up in a plain white room reminiscent of a hospital but lacking in medical equipment and devoid of windows. A digital clock informed me I’d lost almost the entirety of Tuesday. The red letters and numbers taunted me, giving off an almost sinister glow.

A woman with quicksilver eyes and a pair of ram horns, fashioned of a silvery metal, stared at me from nearby, her arms crossed over her chest. She wore a business suit a size too large for her, and it hung off her gaunt frame at an angle, revealing loose skin around her shoulders and throat. The overhead lights gleamed off her horns, and I realized they were made of some clear substance and held mercury within. “You are not in the register of brothel workers.”

Well, I’d wanted to find out more about who’d been attacking brothel workers; I hadn’t even developed a suspect list yet, but mercury dragons wouldn’t have been on it. “That’s because I’m not a brothel worker.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You live in a matron’s apartments.”

“That doesn’t make me a brothel worker.” To my dismay, talking sapped my strength, and a persistent burn in my leg indicated the bastard mercury dragon had poisoned the blade—or I’d gotten an infection, although to my understanding of medical science, it typically took two days for an infection to take hold in a wound. “I pick up bounties and odd jobs to get by.”

She stared at me as though I’d grown a second head. “But you live in a brothel apartment.”

I shook my head. “Those apartments are part of her community initiative; she offers low rent housing to transients or the anonymous. I’m anonymous.” I sat up, and the movement indicated that if anyone had noticed my derringer, they’d left it—and my bra—alone. A quick glance down informed me that my shirt had been left mostly intact, and blood stained an alarming amount of it. “Well, thank you for not letting me bleed to death.” Upon inspection, I determined my left side had taken the brunt of the injury, and I used my right hand to move away my shirt and get a better look at the wound.

The twenty-seven stitches might hold, assuming nothing drastic happened. I worried moving might undo the shoddy work, which would cause me problems. I set my chances of getting an infection close to a hundred. Some divine entity might intervene and change my opinion about the existence of higher powers.

Once I figured out how to free myself and head home, I’d take myself to the nearest hospital, and I’d dish out for an ambulance to help get me there. Add in my calf, which I couldn’t make out beneath the blanket someone had thrown over my legs, and I wouldn’t be walking anywhere anytime soon.

So much for my mother’s prediction I’d sprout scales at the first sign of trouble. Transforming would do me a world of good by giving me the tools needed to escape. However, as the equivalent of a hatchling, I’d end up being a sitting duck for the first dragon to cross my path.

In retrospect, it was a good thing I hadn’t sprouted scales at the first sign of trouble.

“You’re really not a brothel worker.”

I turned my gaze at her, baffled by the disbelief in her voice. “I’m not a brothel worker.”

“But all of my information says you are!”

Suspecting I dealt with someone who’d gone over the edge into the realm of insanity, I needed to be cautious with my approach, make certain she couldn’t catch me in a lie, and play at being cooperative until I could figure out how to extricate myself from the situation. “Your information is wrong. Brothel workers would have clients, and you’ll only find one entity in the entirety of Dragon Heights I’ve shared a bed with, and we’ll get married eventually.”

Well, assuming I stopped screwing things up. I worried about what Erik and my parents would do, especially as I’d gotten snatched outside of the gun shop.

Would the mercury dragons survive when my parents got a hold of them? I doubted it. I suspected Erik would be at a higher risk of sprouting scales than me. I had no idea what a carbunclo and a hummingbird could do to anybody, but I worried I would find out.

Her eyes widened. “You’re engaged? But you have no ring. Someone is going to miss you?”

I stared at her. “Considering I was accompanying Mr. and Mrs. Ramons, and they had my carbunclo and hummingbird with them, I think it’s safe to say I’ve already been missed.”

The woman spouted curses, spun, flung open the door, and left the room.

Careful to keep my left arm still, I raised my right hand and rubbed my temple, telling myself to be patient. Patience might win me a great deal, including information on what the mercury dragons had against brothel workers—and if they were associated with the pilgrim attacks.

The cascade of curses quieted, and a few moments later, the woman returned. “And your reason for going to Shrine Hill?”

“Garnet needed crystals for her collection, and the Ramonses wanted to go to Shrine Hill. It would be easier to move the entirety of Dragon Heights than to convince those two to change their minds. I went to keep the peace, thinking that perhaps they’d lose interest and go away.” It was truth enough, although I did love my parents. However, when they were misbehaving, I wanted them to go away and leave me in peace for a few minutes. I heaved a sigh and played at having my patience tested. “They did not lose interest, nor did they go away. I’d never been to Shrine Hill until this week, and they wanted to show me more of the city.”

“You’re not a pilgrim?”

“I was told about what it entails to be a pilgrim, and I didn’t do anything like make a sacrifice at any of the shrines. They were pretty careful to teach me how to avoid an accidental pilgrimage. I was just looking around, taking pictures, and admiring the artistry of the shrines. It’s a really interesting place. And Garnet loved the stalls.”

“Garnet?”

“My carbunclo.” I stared at her, wondering if she had any idea about Garnet or Tourmaline. “I accidentally attracted a true creation, though. That’s Tourmaline, my hummingbird. He was born on Friday.” After making a show of hesitating, I gestured at my side with my right hand. “This was an accident?”

“Yes, of course. That old lout wasn’t expecting you to fight back. The brothel workers never do, so he was going to give you a nick with the blade and wait for the sedative to kick in before carrying you off. That wouldn’t have taken long. That cut was longer than expected. I give you credit. You kicked him pretty good.”

Telling her that I’d once been a cop would do me no good, so I settled with a half-truth. “Before I came to Dragon Heights, I lived in a rough city. For the most part, humans are more dangerous than dragons. Dragons typically obey rules of conduct.”

The woman’s expression brightened. “We do. This is a problem, however. You’re not a brothel worker? You’re also not a pilgrim?”

“I’m neither. I’m sorry. I’m friends with brothel workers, though. I don’t have any interest in hiring anyone at a brothel.” I forced myself to appear as sheepish as possible under the circumstances. “I’m too jealous.”

“It is good to be a little jealous over your partner,” the woman soothed. “Well, well, well. Apologies are certainly in order. Perhaps we can discuss this further. I had not anticipated this talk going like this.” She held up her hand, uncurled her fingers, and revealed a clear crystal mounted to a silvery string. “This can detect lies.”

I widened my eyes, wondering how a crystal could detect lies. “Really?”

“Tell a lie, one as far from the truth as you can think of.”

“I refuse to share my mashed potatoes with Garnet.”

The crystal turned a deep gray, and the woman holding it chuckled. “Well, it seems you are a generous soul when it comes to your carbunclo.”

“She deserves the best I can give her.”

The crystal returned to its clear color, and the woman slipped it into her pocket. “I will have supper brought for you, and my physician will check on your wounds to make certain they are healing appropriately. For now, rest. In a day or two, we will talk and come to an agreement, I am sure.”

Like hell we’d agree on anything. However, as I wanted to find out what she was about, what she had against brothel workers and pilgrims, I said, “I look forward to our discussion.”

If all went well, I’d be skipping out before having any more discussions with anyone, but she didn’t need to know that. She’d find out soon enough.

* * *

Tuesday, April 28, 2167

The Fringe

Dragon Heights, Wyoming

The woman returned,and she’d thrown a doctor’s coat over her clothing to make it appear as though she were someone else. She’d had the sense to take off her odd horns, but her hair bore evidence of where they’d rested on her head. Supper proved to be a can of pasta with sauce, and she wandered back and forth around the bed without actually looking at the gash or my calf before declaring me healthy enough and staggering out of the door.

I stared at the can, which she’d left at the foot of the bed.

Then I turned my gaze to the door, which she’d left open. During my time as a cop, I’d seen a few truly insane people. I’d also witnessed a few who straddled the line but had attempted to plead insanity. Never before had I dealt with someone so far off their rocker that I questioned how she’d held it together long enough to have a conversation at all.

While I expected attempting to walk would hurt like hell and pull the stitches, it beat sitting around and waiting for the crazy woman to return. Bracing for misery, I moved my left arm. It hurt less than I expected, and I took the time to take a closer look at my injury. While the stitching appeared to be shady, either the mercury dragon hadn’t scored me all that deep or someone had used some form of healing magic on me.

A purple dragon wouldn’t have abided by leaving a patient in such a state, and I wasn’t aware of any other color who could mend wounds. Had my education on dragons been lacking? I suspected so.

Could mixing colors create new abilities? I made a mental note to ask my parents about it later, sometime after I went somewhere I could summon an ambulance and find out what the hell the mercury dragon had done to me while taking me on an unwanted flight across Dragon Heights.

As my parents had been nearby, I could only assume other mercury dragons had been involved with my kidnapping and faced my parents’ wrath.

Any other day, I would’ve felt sorry for the poor bastards destined to go out in a blaze, and not of glory. My parents would fight over the bodies, and without me there to stop them, there would be no hope for their victims.

Worse, I could see my mother peeling information out of her prey before tearing them to pieces and then incinerating their remains.

I needed to find a phone before my parents burned Dragon Heights down to its foundations.

I eased out of bed, careful with my injured calf, and checked the wound to determine I’d gotten off lucky; there were a few stitches, which would make a mess of my day, but it otherwise had been limited to shallow but painful. A rash marked where the blade had done more damage than simply cutting me, something I’d have to deal with sooner than later.

I stood, and while my leg and side protested the abuse, I remained on my feet.

Taking care with each step, I limped to the door and peeked outside. Instead of a hallway, a lab waited, one loaded with stainless steel tables, counters, and shelves filled with a disturbing variety of glass jars. Thanks to years as a homicide detective, I recognized most of the organs floating in fluid, likely formaldehyde. As I doubted the organs had come from willing donors, nor were they registered as such, local law enforcement would have a field day with the find.

However, I hadn’t found any references to brothel women going missing. Had the mercury dragon gone hunting somewhere else, bringing her pilfer back to the lab? Had the organs been stolen from a morgue during autopsy? If so, how had she gained access to the corpses?

Considering there were two tables in the room suitable for operating on someone, I worried there were unreported missing women. The woman’s questions, and dismay that my disappearance would be noticed, added to my concerns.

Across the lab, another open door waited, and it led into a long, sterile hallway with several more open doors. With zero idea how to get out of the place, I decided any direction was better than sticking around, so I headed to the right, stopping at every door to peek inside.

A hellish variety of labs awaited me, and not all the rooms were empty. Someone had been in the process of dissecting a woman, her body at least a week and a half into the decomposition process. I shuddered, especially as several of her organs had been left on a counter to rot.

With the confirmation there were bodies, likely kidnapping and murder victims, I eased my derringer from its specialized holster, held it at the ready and pointed safely away from me, and continued creeping down the hallway. Several more labs with partially dissected bodies waited, and a few of them were far enough through putrefaction I could no longer tell their gender at a glance.

Maybe I wasn’t a cop any longer, but I would make certain the mercury dragons paid for their crimes, securing justice for those who’d been left to decay, part of some demented and forgotten science experiment.

The hallway ended at a turn, which lasted only a few feet before a flight of steps led upwards. Like every other door in the place, the one at the top was open. Not one to ignore an opportunity, I headed up, my calf protesting every step. The landing above opened to stone walls decorated with tapestries depicting mercury dragons in combat. They breathed silvery-white fumes onto their opponents, which were dragons of every other color. The corridor extended in both directions, coming to an end at another tapestry. I assumed hallways branched out from either side.

I headed to the right and crept down the hall, stopping to peek through each open door.

How could anyone sleep knowing there were people rotting beneath them? However, as bedrooms typically had windows, I crept into the second one I came across upon determining nobody occupied it.

Any other day, I would have appreciated the rustic charm of the place, as though the room had been transported out of some cozy log cabin. A fireplace waited with fresh wood, but cobwebs and dust clung to the poker, ash shovel, and bucket.

The scent of age beat decay any day of the week, but I decided my opinion remained unchanged. Knowing what lurked in the basement turned my stomach and left me grateful I hadn’t become the next victim. Well, yet.

Like the doors, the windows were open. I couldn’t tell if I faced dawn or dusk, but the gloom made for a perfect cover for escape. Judging from the trees, the boulders scattered across a parched lawn, and the lack of taller buildings anywhere to be seen, I’d been taken somewhere outside of Dragon Heights.

That would complicate matters for me. While I’d made my way to Dragon Heights, I’d travelled by bus, and I’d arrived in the middle of the night. Once I’d arrived, I’d mostly stayed in the Gray Ward, doing my best to dodge notice outside of my bounty work.

All I could do was hope to find a road, follow it at a distance, and locate a sign pointing me in the right direction. Once far enough away from the property, I’d worry about flagging somebody down and hitching a lift to the nearest hospital or police station.

Either would serve my purposes.

In good news for me, the window opened a few feet over the ground, and while there was a security system in place, it was set to the frame of the window rather than the screen. The height of the screen’s clasp would pose a problem, but I could break it free with a little brute force or with the help of a chair. Had the woman wanted her screens left intact, she would have refrained from kidnapping me in the first place.

Returning my derringer to its hidden holster, I went to the fireplace, grabbed the poker by its handle, and made use of the business end to manipulate the screen open. It put up a fight, and rather than struggle with it, I shoved the pointy end through the mesh, angled the metal shaft, and pulled the entire damned thing out, ready to catch it with my left hand.

I earned a face full of dust for my effort. After freeing my impromptu tool, I tossed the screen onto the bed to limit the noise. As the poker made an excellent weapon in a pinch, I tossed it outside before dragging a chair over, sitting on the sill, and dropping to the ground a few feet below, careful to land on my uninjured leg.

All remained quiet and still. I retrieved my poker, checked around for anyone, and hurried to the nearest source of cover, an old oak tree gobbling up space in the yard. Once in the shelter of its broad trunk, I took my time examining my surroundings.

The mansion, a three storied monstrosity reminiscent of some squat castle lacking towers, devoured space and marred the natural beauty of the landscape around it. Glass orbs filled with a silvery substance hung from beneath the second and third story windows. I could only assume liquid mercury resided within the spheres. A single broken sphere would lead to madness or worse—and it explained a lot about the woman’s behavior. If the horns contained mercury as well, I expected she drew closer to madness and death with her every breath.

Exposure to the treacherous element would make a mess of my day—and life. I bowed my head, sighed, and listened for any signs of trouble. Distant roars and sirens offered a clue, and I could guess at the sirens and at least two sources of the roars.

The source of the sirens would provide a method of getting to a hospital, and once there, I’d request every single vaccination I could imagine, including treatment for rabies, just to make certain I emerged mostly unscathed from my adventure to the mercury madhouse. I would do my best to be wise and sensible, scouting out the source of the sounds before requesting assistance.

I might even stoop to confessing I wanted my parents.

I wouldn’t have much to worry about when armed with a pair of angry dragons, and I wasn’t above hiding behind them. Anyone with any sense would hide behind the angry dragons after taking a claw to the side and being shoved in the basement of a demented woman with a fixation on mercury.

Hoping I wasn’t going to regret my decision, I headed in the direction of the roars and sirens.