Chapter 20 #2
He even looked concerned, which . . . well, that was understandable. I’d almost lost the damn fight before it had started.
I held up the ring. “Can magical artifacts be destroyed?”
He looked at it, frowning and leaning away, like it might bite him.
Again, understandable.
“I think you need an arcane mage to destroy an artifact,” Blair said, approaching from the opposite side, her arm linked with my mother’s, both of them dirt streaked and looking incredibly self-satisfied. “Or maybe a death mage?”
Since I knew one of each in the Agincourt twins, I nodded and slid the disgusting thing into my pocket. I’d have to get that taken care of sooner rather than later, but I didn’t have to hand it off to anyone I didn’t know to have it done.
Not that I didn’t trust my mother’s vampire allies, but I trusted my friends way more.
“Destroy it?” Fearson demanded, laughing incredulously. “Destroy? Are you a complete fool? Do you have any idea what kind of power is in that thing?”
I looked down at him and lifted a brow. “Does it have anything to do with why you’ve prematurely aged so badly?
Using magic that isn’t your own to control people’s brains is unhealthy, maybe?
” There was that arrogant sneer, back on his face, and I was sure my guess was right.
“Had to settle for outside power because you’re the world’s weakest dragon, is it? How embarrassing.”
“I’m the favored son of Tadhg!” he near-roared, and the whole clearing went silent.
Near-roared, because he was a pitiful excuse for a dragon who couldn’t actually roar. Because no one loved him, “favored son” or not, and he didn’t love anyone in return.
My mother’s voice was deadly, though, as she glared down at him with ice in her gaze. “What did you just call yourself?”
His anger turned in an instant, smug and superior, like he had something to hold over her.
Before he could say a word, though, I interrupted.
“You didn’t hear my friend? She called him Uncle Albert.
He’s a son of Tadhg. Which makes him my father’s brother.
” And then it was my turn to give him a disgusted look.
“Imagine holding your own brothers prisoner. Draining their energy like some kind of wannabe vampire.” I gave him an over-the-top look of sympathy.
“I’m sorry, did you just want to be powerful that badly?
Emulating vampires because you couldn’t be one? ”
My mother turned back to me, looking oddly winded for a woman who didn’t need to breathe. She didn’t seem to give a damn about Fearson being my uncle, though. Instead, she said, “Your . . . friend. You’re . . . friends. With . . .”
“The queen of nightmares? That’s what Twist called her. Sounds a little overblown for someone who’s spent the last three decades shooting the shit and sharing snacks with me.”
My mother put a hand to her forehead and leaned into Blair. “My son is . . . buddies. With The Mórrigan.”
“He does seem the type for it,” Blair said, as she winked at me. “Hell, I’ve only met a handful of people he hasn’t tried to befriend. Ancient goddesses seem pretty much like a regular Tuesday.”
Clearly, I was going to have to look up “The Mórrigan,” but did it matter? She was my friend. Like Twist, like Blair, and like . . . well, yeah, most of the people I met. The good ones, anyway.
I looked down at Fearson, frowning. “So, I was kind of worried about vampires being able to handle a dragon, but it turns out he’s maybe the least powerful dragon ever. You could maybe even hand him over to the human authorities.”
“Oh no,” Carmen said as she came up behind me, carrying . . . was that part of a flame thrower? “This bastardo faces senate justice. I demand it. He kidnapped my baby.”
“Mother,” the slightly disheveled and embarrassed Esteban whispered from behind her. “I’m fine.”
Carmen started to open her mouth, but Mother beat her to the punch.
“No, your mother is right. He kidnapped one of our own, in an attempt to kidnap another. He faces senate justice.” She looked at me, her expression all business now, and wasn’t that weird?
My mother, looking to me for adult answers.
“You’re sure he can’t turn into a dragon? ”
“He definitely cannot,” I agreed. “Like I said to him, he’s the weakest dragon I’ve ever met. Twist and Davin said he barely even smells like a dragon.”
Fearson ignored me and scoffed at her. “No one has turned into a dragon in millennia. Not even father.”
Mother turned her sweetest, most terrifying smile on him. “Oh sweetheart. It sounds like you haven’t spoken to daddy dearest in a while. It turns out his least favored son managed that feat when you two threatened to take Flynn in his hearing. He escaped and came to warn us you were coming.”
This was clearly news to dear Uncle Albert, which wasn’t a surprise to me.
Tadhg had let Albert use an artifact that had aged him so horribly that he looked, in dragon terms, thousands of years older than his brothers. Why not let him swing in the wind when it was possible someone who could eat him in a bite was coming for him?
No, my grandfather was almost certainly busy fortifying his position, preparing for a siege.
In the North Sea.