Dragon Horn Read online

  He folded his shaking hands and placed them on the table. “Thanks, I’ll keep trying, but it’s getting hard. And there’s someone I need to warn you about, but I can’t remember who. Fuck, who was it?” He took a few deep breaths and in a calmer tone, he said, “Sorry, man. I can’t remember who it was. What you come here to find out?”

  “Do you know anything about Sleepy Willow?” I hoped talking about it would take his mind in another direction.

  He shook his head. “Just what I read and heard around here.”

  “And what is that?”

  “Not much. They say it used to be as close to a utopian society as possible. Then they killed the queen and everything’s gone to shit. The king controlled the murderous creatures for as long as he could, it sounds like. Apparently, now it’s a free for all. Why the hell you goin? Dragons?” His sleepy eyes widened with excitement, providing a glimpse of the man I once knew.

  “Yep. The dragons and the people trying to take over the city are from Sleepy Willow. I have to go there to get something that will even the odds. I’d ask you to come along for the trip, but...”

  He cut me off. “You don’t want to take me. They should tie me to my bed here to control me. I wouldn’t be able to control myself if I went to a land without rules. Good luck, though.”

  “You too, Reg.” I meant it so much more than those three measly words could properly express.

  I heard the receptionist’s voice from behind. “Mr. Merlino. Mr. Rickleshaw is ready for you now.”

  I turned around and smiled. “Thank you. Be right there.”

  “Would you prefer an escort?” She flashed an ivory smile.

  I waved her off. I’d been here enough times to know how to navigate to Jonathan’s office. “No. I know where it is.”

  She curtsied. “At your convenience then.”

  I leaned in closer to my best friend. I laid my forehead against his and gripped the back of his cranium, fingers tangled in his thick, shaggy hair. “Reg, you’re my fucking brother, man. I love you. If you need anything, anything at all, even just to talk, hit me up. Anything. I’ll be there for you. Don’t forget it. Your struggle is my struggle.” I stopped just before tears erupted from their ducts. “Don’t be a stranger, Reg.”

  “All right now. Thanks for being understanding.”

  “Hang in there now. I’ll be there if you need anything.”

  “Much appreciated.”

  I took one last glance at the person I cared for most in this world. The image of my friend morphing into a vampire scared the shit out of me. It crushed my heart even more than the breakup. I prayed Reg would be all right as I moseyed over to the elder vampire’s office.

  Chapter 9

  I stared at a warrior holding a short sword in one hand and his opponent’s head in the other. The small Incan sculpture had been crafted back in the fifteenth century. The ornate item was gilded liberally with gold and silver along with intricate colorful overlay. I closed my eyes and envisaged the artist adding the final touches to it as he or she sat on the moss-covered mountain caps of Machu Picchu.

  “So what do you think?” Jonathan laid a hand on my shoulder.

  I pretended I was holding the piece up to the light and wiggled out of his reach. His arm dropped to his side. Jonathan was a crafty vampire trying to tap into and absorb my magic. I wasn’t going to let that happen. “Mesrad Macha, huh?”

  That was the Celtic term for a trophy head.

  Jonathan nodded, pointed at the warrior, and said, “I’m not sure how to say it in his language, but yes indeed.”

  “It’s pretty amazing. How do you know it’s Incan?” I asked.

  The vampire pointed as he spoke, “The battle dress of the warrior. Especially the war paint on his chest and face right here, the design and colors. That is typical of the Huánuco region.”

  So it had been made north of Machu Picchu. I was way off.

  Jonathan went on, “Ironically, it was discovered in an old castle in Romania. And now it sits in your hands in the city of Pittsburgh. Quite a journey around the world.” He grabbed the sculpture. “Enough of me showing off the new toys.” He turned and headed for his desk.

  Jonathan Rickleshaw, the six-hundred-year-old vampire and leader of the Purple House, had a deep pumpkin glaze over his skin that made him stand out compared to the rest of the clan of mostly pale vampires. Almost as if he had a burning flame just below his skin. If I hadn’t known about vampires’ aversion to bright lights, I would say it was from fake tanning. His long, jet-black hair was tied in a ponytail and he played with his silver streaked, forked goatee.

  He always dressed classily, in a suit and tie. Tonight, he wore a blood red tie. He grabbed the knot and loosened it. The short vampire slipped out of his deep purple dovetailed jacket and hung it on the back of his desk chair.

  He was highly cultured, sophisticated and deeply respected in the field of antiques. If he weren’t an immortal supernatural who carried a social stigma, he would fit in perfectly with the intelligentsia of Pittsburgh. His small office with black walls only had a desk and two expensive chairs facing it, but the room was replete with shelves of museum quality antiques and paintings worth millions.

  The vampire slid into his leather chair with gold studs outlining the back and arms. It carried a throne-like quality. “What did you want to see me about?”

  “I need your help.” I took my normal spot in the comfortable red leather chair on the left that faced his desk.

  Jonathan pulled the music remote out of his desk drawer. “Out with it.”

  I spoke over a light thrum of heavy metal as Jonathan adjusted the volume, “I need you to get me and a friend into Sleepy Willow.”

  “Oh you do, do you?” he asked, peppering his words with a heavy dash of sarcasm. “The sidhe invade Pittsburgh, so you invade their land. Why in all the worlds we know about would you want to go to that one?” Jonathan bobbed his head gently to a System of a Down song.

  I avoided his question with another question. “So you know they invaded the city?”

  “I do. But that still doesn’t answer my question. Why are you going there? Not to find the stupid Dragon Horn, is it?”

  A goofy smile crawled across my face. “Funny you should mention that.”

  Jonathan shook his head and made a drinking gesture. I nodded happily. Jonathan carried the good Jameson. He pressed a few buttons on his desk phone. “Yes, I have Micheal Merlino here. We will take our regular beverages. Thank you.”

  He hung up the phone and smiled. No fangs. They didn’t come out unless he was angry. He rested his elbows on the desk and steepled his fingers in front of his face. “Where were we? Oh yes. Give it up. The thing doesn’t exist. I’ve known many treasure seekers in my business. Me included. The Dragon Horn is one item that has put more men underground than anything else. And I’ll let you in on a little secret. The only person who can summon the dragons is dead.”

  I played dumb. Not a difficult act for me. “Who would that be?”

  A vampiric server entered and dropped off Jonathan’s thick red liquid first. She set a glass of Jameson in my hand and walked toward the door as Jonathan said, “Queen Al. If she set that curse to poison the crops right before she died, I can only assume she put a similar curse on the Dragon Horn. I imagine if someone were to lay their lips on the horn, they would turn into a horny toad.”

  Jonathan took a gulp of his drink and continued, “I’m quite positive the only person who can activate the dragons is Queen Al. And she is dead and gone for about five centuries. And all of this hinges on stories involving major leaps of faith. The queen may well have destroyed the Horn.”

  I took a sip of my favorite drink, which always tasted stronger at the vampire lair. “I appreciate the information, but I don’t really have a choice. I just need you to get me over Lake Geopold. I’ll owe you one. Or one more, I guess.”

  He laughed so hard he almost spit out his red beverage. “You’ll never even make i
t out of the city. The vagrants will cut your throat before you make it anywhere near the lake. They’ll hide behind appearance-changing glamor or in the shadows. You won’t even see it coming. I’m afraid you’ll end up like the guy here.” He pointed at the decapitated trophy head from the Incan sculpture.

  “Do you know anyone who will help me then?”

  Jonathan stared at his Marc Chagall painting, Green Violinist, of a musician wearing a purple jacket similar to his. I wondered how he’d acquired it from the Guggenheim Museum in New York. Wrested or bought? Jonathan had reminded me several times that everyone gets into financial trouble at some time.

  After a long pause, his lips formed a circle and he exhaled audibly as if he were smoking. “If you are dead set on doing this, I suppose I could get you in. The rest is up to you.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Jonathan undid his pony tail and shook his wild nest of hair around to the music. He stopped headbanging and ran his hands through his long locks. “It means there are no rules. I am going to take you to a bar called the Kaffeeklatsch. They won’t be serving coffee though, I can assure you that. There should be a faun there named Fencester the First. He has access to the coins that you will need to pay the captain.”

  “The captain?”

  “Yes. There are only two captains on the island who cross the lake. And Fencester is the only one I know who has the coins. You need to pay one of the boat captains with a special coin to gain passage.” Jonathan spoke slowly. Like most immortals, he took his time in conversation and life in general. He savored every moment, even the dull ones. Most mortals wanted to race ahead at breakneck speed.

  “Couldn’t we build our own boat?” I was impressed with my quick thinking considering my current state of slight inebriation.

  Jonathan’s wrinkled expression and his one eye closed told me that he wasn’t impressed with that idea. “That would be ill advised. The captains control the weather and the creatures in the water. It’s the only way to pass. Back to Fencester. You are going to have to barter with him. There aren’t specialty shops that sell the coin for a listed price. You will have to please Fencester.”

  “Sounds kind of gross.” I took another gulp of the delicious nectar to wash away the nasty taste in my mouth.

  “Prepare to check your naivety and dignity at the door.” He tapped his steepled fingers together and seemed to be searching for the correct phrasing. “Fencester is quite the magniloquent bastard because he knows he’s one of the only ways to get across the lake. There’s a fair chance he might ask you to suck him off. What would you do then?”

  He had caught me off guard with that question. Judging by the fiery feeling in my cheeks, I assumed my face had turned beet purple. “Kill him and take the coin.”

  He smiled, showcasing the red stains from his beverage on his teeth. “Good instinct, but wrong again. You have no rights in that world. If you get killed, it’s no big deal. However, if you kill a resident of Sleepy Willow, you’re like a trapped rat. There’s no jail; they’ll just hunt you down and rip you apart. Especially if you killed a powerful being like Fencester.”

  “Let’s just hope he doesn’t ask me to do that. So I get the coin and give it to the ship captain. That sounds simple enough.”

  He laughed at me. “Instructionally, yes. Practically or executionally, don’t count on it. Vagaries abound in Sleepy Willow. You can make a plan but don’t think for a second that all will go accordingly. The distance you are traveling is likely to present several imbroglios, if not a baker’s dozen. How you react is up to you.”

  “I understand. How many times have you been there?” I was started to catch a buzz from the reinforced Jameson.

  “Many. Not so much recently. Or at least in the last five centuries.” Jonathan tucked his hair behind his ears and leaned forward. “I hope you have a trustworthy guide to traverse the great expanse. Once you get over the lake, it becomes even more dangerous. I won’t even go over there.”

  “Will you get us in the door? You can leave us for dead as soon as we get in.”

  He laughed. “Funny, accurate phrasing. I will get you in unless I can talk you out of it first. Knowing you, I’d just be wasting my breath. Last advice of the night: trust no one and expect the unexpected. Here, these will help.” Jonathan reached into his desk drawer and dropped some gold coins on the desk.

  I stood up and walked instinctually toward the gold. Eight gold coins sat on the mahogany desk top. I asked, “Are they real?”

  He shoved his chair back and stood up. “Not exactly. These are two-ounce coins, so if they were pure, they would value over ten thousand dollars. These are silver coins gilded with gold. I give them to you with great caution about using them. Do not use these with any indigenous citizens of the land. Only use them with stupid intruders such as yourself.”

  I ignored the insult, and asked, “Why is that?”

  “Because they won’t have the want or means to find out if they are real.” He grabbed his drink and walked around his desk. “If a citizen of Sleepy Willow finds out that you’ve swindled him or her, they will come for your life. You may not need the coins, but there are many in that land who still love to hoard gold. Doesn’t hurt to take them. They just may save your life.”

  I stood up as he approached me. “Is there anything else you suggest bringing?”

  “You won’t be able to bring much with you. The bouncer will search you before entering the city. I can hold a few items as they won’t search me, but not much.” He held his arms out to his sides as if to reinforce the point that he couldn’t hold any large objects.

  Jonathan continued, “I’ll draw you a map to get from the bar to the lake, so make sure you stay on this course. It will be circuitous by design to avoid the most dangerous spots in the city. I haven’t visited in a few years. Give me a few days so I can be certain it’s exact.”

  “I appreciate that, Jonathan. You’ll be a factor in taking back Pittsburgh from the Fae.”

  He shook an index finger of warning. “I trust that you’ll keep my name out of the papers. I’m perplexed as to why the sidhe decided to infiltrate Pittsburgh. You really think you’re going to find that Dragon Horn?”

  I shrugged, and asked rhetorically, “What choice do I have?”

  “Fair enough.” He slapped me on the back. “Have you ever thought that there might be one time that you can’t defeat the forces of evil?”

  “I have. A lot. But not this time.” I smirked, and turned for the door, slipping away from his hand on me.

  Jonathan moved ahead of me and opened his office door. “I like the confidence. Foolish, yes. Brash, indubitably. But confident all the same. Despite your neophyte status as a wizard, you will be tested to the extreme. No one will take it easy on you. I hope you are up to the task.”

  As we walked down the hallway, I said smugly, “I always am.”

  “I have some literature for you to study about the land of Sleepy Willow. It will either impart some knowledge to benefit your trip or it will scare you right enough to pull out of this foolish plan. When are you planning on leaving?”

  We stopped near the main entrance of the mansion.

  I slammed the rest of my drink as I stumbled over to the receptionist’s desk. I set down the empty glass and nodded at her. Turning around, I answered, “We are leaving soon. I didn’t know what you would say so obviously I didn’t make any firm plans. I can’t imagine waiting more than a day or two. People are trapped within the city and I need to act fast on this.”

  Jonathan snapped his fingers at the valet, who came running over and waited diligently for his orders. Jonathan said, “Understandable. I’ll have my associates drop off the books. My schedule is rather thin over the next few days so you are in luck, my friend.”

  “All right, you have yourself a good night.” I swung my keys around my finger until the ring slipped off and they fell to the floor.

  Jonathan closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose
and shook his head. “You are not driving anywhere tonight. I won’t allow it.”

  I objected, “Jonathan, I have to get home.”

  He explained, calmly, “I’m going to have one of my guys drive your car with you in the passenger’s seat. I’ll send another person to pick him up from your house. Take it easy with the sauce, Micheal.”

  “Thanks, Jonathan.”

  “You take care now, young man.” The elder vamp turned to the valet. Jonathan instructed him to get me home. It was probably a good idea since I had hit the rumble strip several times on the drive over and I felt more buzzed now.

  As I sat down on the steps and waited for the valets, my buzzed mind tried to put everything together. Jonathan was willing to help, which was great, but I worried about the plan to get to the lake. It seemed flimsy at best.

  Choices were slim, and without a better option, we needed Jonathan to get us in. Dealing with the insanity of the otherworld and navigating the land by a hand-drawn map was a whole different story. If anything, this had sealed the deal. We were going to Sleepy Willow.

  Now I just had to put a team together. Jogging my brain, I couldn’t come up with anyone to call for help. Felix had said no and Burn would cause too much friction with Alayna. What the hell was I going to do?

  I jumped up when one of the vampires pulled up in my car. Stumbling to my left, I grabbed the railing for balance. I had stood up just a bit too fast, but everything sorted itself out within twenty seconds.

  Everything was fuzzy when I got into my car and the vampire valet started it. The events of the past few days swirled around my head until everything went dark as a cloudy night sky.