Dragon Wytch

"And there's another reason I won't date him. Not only does he have a mother from hell, he's far too old. I want a family, and he's around sixty-four which is younger than me in actual years, but he's a whole lot farther down the track when you talk about how long he has left. I would never allow my children to be sired by a human, let alone someone as old as he is. They'd never have a chance to get to really know him before he died."



Delilah let out a little burp and pressed her fingers to her lips. She shivered, and I knew she was thinking that she might be facing the same dilemma someday if she stayed with Chase. The same one our father had faced by marrying our mother. I decided to avoid the pitfalls of navigating that land mine of a discussion and turned back to Iris.



"You really don't think Henry would mind working at the Indigo Crescent?"



Iris nodded. "I think he'd be glad to feel useful. He's a brilliant man, if a little geeky, and retirement hasn't agreed with him much."



"Call him today if he doesn't come into the store. Offer him twenty hours a week. Minimum wage plus five used books a week. Next order of business: pixies, demons, and Feddrah-Dahns. What is he doing, by the way?" I peered out the window, trying to catch a glimpse of the unicorn, but he wasn't anywhere in sight.



Iris held up one hand and bustled down the hall. We heard the sound of the front door opening, then closing. "He's fine," she said as she returned. "He appears to be taking a little nap on the front lawn."



"We need to find that horn," I said. "That's a priority, because if the demons—or even a vamp or wayward Crypto—gets hold of it, we're screwed. So I guess we'd better go pixie hunting first."



Delilah nodded, her mouth full of pancakes and honey.



"Then on to the rug shop to check out the djinn who was trying to get the lowdown on Menolly." I scribbled another note on my list. "Meanwhile, we try to figure out where the third spirit seal's hiding. That reminds me: time to try Morio again."



I picked up the phone and punched in his number. It rang seven times before the answering machine flipped on. I left a quick message, then dialed his cell. No answer there, either. A squiggle of fear churned in my stomach.



"I'm worried, guys. Morio should have contacted me last night. He was supposed to stay here, and he never showed up. I still can't get hold of him." I replaced the receiver, but it rang almost immediately. Glancing at the caller ID, I snatched it up. "Morio! Where the hell are you?"



His smooth, silken voice echoed over the line. "I'm all right. I'm sorry I didn't get in touch sooner, but I couldn't pick up a signal for my cell phone out where I was."



"What's going on? Why didn't you come over last night?"



"My car had a flat, and I forgot to put the spare back in last time I cleaned out the back. It took me awhile to catch a ride to the nearest service station where I could call AAA. By the time I got everything sorted out, I was just too tired to even think." He sounded distracted. "Besides, I needed to do some research after I got home. I called, but your answering machine didn't pick up."



Electronics often went on the fritz in our house; we'd already blown our way through a couple of microwaves and three phones in the past year. Something to do with all the erratic power, we thought. But then again, the house was old, and the wiring might not be what it ought to be.



"Research? What's going on?" Something was hanging in his voice, like a thundercloud about to break. "What happened?"



"I was talking to Grandmother Coyote, and she told me about a strange man she saw in her crystal ball. A man who claims to have visions of the future, ranting about the end of the world when the demons pour in and take over. She told me where to find him, and I went to pay him a visit in my fox form. He won't talk to humans, but he'll talk to animals."



Great, a psychic Dr. Doolittle. "What did he tell you?"



"He's been having dreams for the past year or so about a great wall of flame and fire, driven across the land by a brilliant, terrible demon. In these dreams, millions are slaughtered, millions more forced into slavery and used for food and breeding purposes. He saw nuclear blasts go off in the attempts to ward off the swarms of Demonkin."



My mouth went dry. "What did you tell him?"



"Nothing. I was in my fox form. Yet. But there's one more thing—he told me about a gem that he saw. Actually saw, not just in a vision. He says it's a brilliant amethyst that swirls with Faerie lights, set into a silver pendant." Morio paused. "I think he's seen the third spirit seal."



"Shit," I said. "Ask the right question, and sometimes, the universe answers. We have to talk to him. You say he won't speak with humans? Is he Earthside Fae?"



"I don't think so. I'm fairly certain he's all human, but he fears and hates his own kind. After he told me about the seal, he wandered off into that la-la land so many fragile, broken people seem to inhabit." Morio cleared his throat. "We need to talk to him, but we can't until tomorrow."



"Where is he? And why can't we go see him now?"



"Because the man is locked up in a mental institution. I met him while I was crossing the grounds, taking a shortcut. I changed into my fox form to attract less attention. The staff didn't notice me, but he did—right away. And he recognized that I'm a magical creature, not just a fox."



I thought for a moment. If the man had recognized Morio as a magical being, then he had to have some sort of second sight. A number of humans had been locked up over the years for being gifted with some psychic or magical abilities. Some had been killed. All too often, the voices in their heads were really there; they weren't figments of the imagination or broken egos.



"What's his name? I can have a go at talking to him, and if that fails, Delilah can always stroll across the grounds as a kitty cat." I picked up a pad of paper that was lying on the counter, along with the felt pen that was sitting beside it.



"Benjamin Welter. The institution is the Mountain Aspen Retreat. It sounds like a resort, but really, it's a high-priced joint where wealthy families bury their problem children. It's down near Normandy Park. You'd better think of a strong cover story. The staff there gets paid good money to keep the outside world out, and the inmates, in."



I let out a long sigh. "We've got a jumble of things going on here. Where are you?"



"At home. Why?"



I glanced over at Delilah and motioned to the piece of paper on the table. "What's the address for the elves who found Mistletoe hiding out in their yard?"



"Mistletoe?" Morio sounded perplexed. "You've got elves with a mistletoe problem?"



"No," I said. "We've got elves with a pixie problem, and we're on our way to take care of it." Delilah handed me the slip of paper. "Okay, here it is. 10226 East Parkland Drive. Meet us there in half an hour. We've got to get our hands on a unicorn horn before the demons sniff it out." Without waiting for an answer, I slid the receiver back on the hook and drained the last of my juice.



"Let's get moving. Iris, talk to Henry, please. Take Maggie with you today. She's safer there than tucked away in Menolly's lair. If Trillian comes back, tell him where we are. If Smoky asks, tell him I'll be out later this evening to speak to Morgaine." I wrapped my capelet around my shoulders.



"Got everything?" Delilah said, shoving her arms through the sleeves of her jacket.



"Yeah," I said. "Trouble is, we aren't going to get Feddrah-Dahns into the back of my car, so I'll have to ask him to stay here."



As we headed into the living room, I thought about the chaos unfolding in our lives. The unicorn horn, the third spirit seal, Smoky, the civil war at home, a Raksasa and a djinn, pixies and trolls and elves… If we didn't get some of this under control pretty soon, we'd never sort ourselves free from the confusion.



Chapter Ten



Hunting pixies wasn't exactly child's play. When I was training with my magical mentors, they'd taught me how to charm a pixie, but that only worked about 50 percent of the time.



Back in OW, pixies were considered pests in the cities and, in fact, a few of the villages had banned them. Lethesanar hadn't gone that far, but they were fair game if they came inside the city limits.



For one thing, most pixies live to annoy. They love causing havoc and mischief; the cliche pixie-led wasn't yanked out of thin air. Pixies steal, pixies prod and poke and scatter their various dusts to cause havoc and, in general, are irritating little nuisances. I was surprised that Feddrah-Dahns had entrusted a valuable artifact to one, but then again, there was a first time for everything. Perhaps Mistletoe had gone astray of his nature.



We arrived at 10226 East Parkland Drive on the cusp of nine A.M. We'd brought both our cars in case we needed to run errands afterward. The clouds had parted, allowing a trickle of sun to pass, and everywhere the nubs on the budding trees sparkled where the light refracted through the raindrops that still clung to the branches.



The house was a small cottage type—very New England and out of place in Seattle—set back off the street. The ever-present rhododendrons had been allowed to grow to tree height, and the creeping moss overshadowed the grass, turning the front yard into a wild place. Here and there, lady ferns clustered together in patches, fronds reaching waist high and taller. The cobbled path to the door was broken in spots, with weeds thrusting through the stones. Another path—this one dirt—branched off to the right, leading around the side of the house to what looked like a weathered picket fence. Rising in back of the house, twin maples towered up over the roof, one on either side of the yard.



I motioned to Delilah. "Come on, let's see if they're home."



We took the porch steps two at a time, and I knocked gently. Elves had fantastic hearing. I wouldn't need to pound on the door.



Sure enough, a moment later a lithe, willowy elf peeked through the screen. Her face lit up when she saw us. "Oh thank gods! You've come for the pixies!" Quickly, she stepped out to meet us and gestured to the yard. "See what they've done? No matter how hard we work, they're turning this place into a jungle."



Delilah and I glanced back at the front yard. From this vantage point, if I looked closely enough, I could see the telltale sparkle of residue pixie dust dappling the leaves and ground. Sure enough, they had an infestation, all right.



I turned back to the woman. "I'm Camille D'Artigo, and this is my sister, Delilah. You told my sister Menolly you have a strange pixie hanging around?"



She nodded, blushing. "I'm sorry, I should have introduced myself. I'm just so excited you're here! My name's Tish. Yes, we do have a new one hanging around, and the creature's causing an uproar. It was bad enough before, but he showed up last night, and now everybody's up in arms. I can't even step into the backyard without getting pixie bombed. My husband's in bed with a headache. He went out to try to dislodge the whole lot of them, and they ganged up on him."



While pixie magic wasn't terribly effective against the Fae, they could cause one hell of a headache if they sprinkled the right dust in your eyes. And with the natural animosity between elves and pixies, I had no doubt that both sides had been up to some nasty tricks.



"Why don't you show us to your backyard?"



As she led us down the porch steps and around the path leading to the fence, she told us a bit about herself. "I came over Earthside first, two years ago, and my husband followed last year. We're studying human society for the Academy of Anthro-History, back in Elqaneve. I'm a healer, and my husband is a historian. When the Academy offered to send us Earthside to get in some hands-on study time, we agreed to a three-year term. I came over first, since I needed extra time to observe healing techniques here." She made a face.



"Something wrong?" I asked.



Tish nodded. "While their technology is brilliant, it's a sad state of affairs here. Far more die from hunger than back in Otherworld, although more die at home from disease than do here… at least in the civilized areas. There's so much potential to ease suffering here, but it's all caught up in warring ideologies and moralities. Tragic, really." She paused, opening the gate. "Right through here. Be careful—the dust is thick today."



As I passed through the gate, I saw what she meant. A layer of pixie dust covered everything, from the tiny lettuce seedlings that were just peeking out of the ground to the marble birdbath to the stone bench in the corner with a gargoyle-shaped crest in the center of the back.



Instinctively, I coughed and covered my nose. Delilah sniffed twice and then sneezed. Loud. With a sudden shimmer of color, she shouted, "Oh crap!" and shifted before I could stop her. It was a lot quicker than her usual transformation. Within seconds, a golden, long-haired tabby cat stared up at me, her eyes wide and confused.



Wonderful. Just what we needed. Tish sucked in a deep breath, covering her mouth with her fingers. "Oh! I'm sorry!"



"Yeah, that usually happens when we're under stress. There must be something in the pixie dust today that forced it," I said, reaching for Delilah. But she was in rare form, and she darted to the left as she saw me coming.



"Come here, Delilah! Now." I gave chase around the yard, jumping for her as she took a flying leap into one of the lilacs. She scrambled up above my reach. I tripped over a tree root, landing splat on my face in the damp moss.



"Hell's bells…" I pushed myself to a sitting position. My skirt had caught on the root, resulting in a small rip that threatened to spread. I was covered with a layer of pixie dust from head to toe. The shimmering powder glistened on my clothing and face, and I hoped to hell that I was immune to whatever effects it was enchanted to produce.