Page 28 of Princess Seeks Dragon

“That was probably a stupid call to make, laddie.”

***

“YOU WERE WISE TO CALLme, Mr. Kane.”

Mr. Minegold’s voice is always warm and yet has this regal note to it. Someone told me he was a teacher once. Maybe he’s used to commanding attention. “I’m afraid someone’s going to try to come into town and hunt her down.”

“We cannot stop most humans from entering, but once they’re in, we can find them and bespell them to leave and never come back. A few years ago, there was a nasty spot of trouble with a violent ex-boyfriend. Alan Wymark cursed him so that he could never set foot in the town again unless he had kind and peaceful intentions. He’s never been back.”

“Can someone come over and bless the house? Ward it up? Put some sort of spell on her?”

“The first two, yes. The third? A protective amulet or charm would be better. Bring her to Madge’s tonight and let her choose something.”

“She doesn’t know about all the paranormal mumbo jumbo.”

“Then say it’s a welcoming present, or buy one for yourself and say there was a buy-one-get-one-free sale. Use your head, young Mr. Kane.”

I snort. Young Mr. Kane. “I’m twenty-seven.”

“And your brother is only thirty, but he acts much older, doesn’t he?” Minegold continues, unperturbed. “You don’t happen to have a lock of hair or a drop of blood from this Genovese fellow, do you?”

“No, and I doubt he’d come to town personally.”

“Pity. All right, well, the Night Watch will patrol in your area and the garden center. The coven will have to spice up their monthly wards, I suppose, to include threats of organized crime. That’s a new one...” he mutters.

“Sorry.”

“Oh, pooh. There’s nothing to be sorry about. You helped an innocent woman. You are the very embodiment of our unspoken code—to live kindly and peaceably among humans, to protect the innocent and drive out the wicked.”

He says unspoken, but I have a feeling the monsters around here speak it quite a lot, despite just carrying on their normal, dull-looking lives most of the time.

Minegold coughs gently. “I’ll need your help, most likely.”

“Name it.”

“Could you spare some scales? Powdered dragon scales are absolutely essential in a good protective spell.”

I wince. The only time shedding scales doesn’t hurt is when I’m in full dragon form, and Angela’s probably going to notice if there’s a big purple dragon sitting in the backyard, scraping at his sides with his back claws like a dog chasing fleas. “Uh. Yeah. Would tomorrow morning be okay for that?”

“Leave them in the mailbox. I’ll collect them before dawn. I’ll go call Ardy and see what the police can do about putting up a ‘speed trap’ checkpoint on the main roads into town. Ooh, and maybe Sera will lend me her grimdaw to watch the train station. He’ll report back if any harbingers of death hop off.”

My head swims, but I’m relieved to have help. I’m almost more relieved than angry that I got myself into this mess in the first place.

“Sounds great. Thank you again. I’ll have those scales for you before dawn,” I promise, and hang up. I rub my temples, then drag my hand across my eyes. This was not how my day was going to go. Not at all. It’s the first full day I’m officially in charge of the family business, and I was there for half an hour. I was supposed to do a quick favor for my boss and ended up getting on his shit list—and someone else’s hit list. I look in the mirror and wince. I’m pasty, with dark circles under my eyes, and my hair... I don’t want to talk about my hair.

I put my amulet carefully on the bed and head to the shower for a quick scrub and shave. “What the hell is a grimdaw again? Someone needs to make some sort of paranormal people directory...”

***

ICAN’T HEAR WORDS, but I hear a lot of “noise” from upstairs. I stay put in the kitchen at first, wondering if I should trust this situation—and I know, if I were going to have second thoughts, the time to have them was right around the time I left the motel with him.

But while I’m here... I take a minute and try to settle myself, try to stop the whirlwind of anxiety by looking around and grounding myself.

A big scroll carved out of wood and painted white and green proclaims Ian and Vanessa, United in Love, and has their wedding invitation in glass set into it. There are pictures on the fridge of Graham and his brother in their wedding gear—and why did I never think men in kilts were sexy before? They completely are.

I slide from the stool and tiptoe through the kitchen, dining room, and living room, trying to get a feel for the people who live here—and if I can trust Graham.

Stacks of gardening books.

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