In the Shadow of Dragons (Aftermagic Book 1) Read online

  It had probably worked. No one would doubt she was a rebel now. But the price of admission wasn’t worth this.

  The tray held a foil pouch of milk, two pieces of dry toast cut into crumbling triangles, a pile of cold yellow lumps that might have been scrambled eggs an hour ago, and three rubbery strips of fat with a little bacon clinging to them. She picked up a toast triangle and nibbled at the edge. It tasted like burnt foam, but it was probably better than the eggs.

  She tried not to think too much — not yet, anyway. The more she considered this whole thing, the angrier she’d get. That wouldn’t help her get out of here. She’d save all her fury to unload on Julian.

  She’d managed to get through one whole piece of toast when the sheriff returned, keys in hand. “Guess you made bail,” he said. “Come on.”

  Shock gave way to suspicion. They hadn’t exactly been clear on the charges when she was brought in last night, but she was pretty sure no one would’ve set her bail already. The courts didn’t even open until nine. But if she had a ticket out, she sure as hell wasn’t going to sit here and refuse it. Even if it was Julian. Which, she assumed, it had to be.

  The sheriff brought her to a cage with a counter inside it, and an unsmiling man behind the counter handed her an oversized plastic bag with everything they’d taken off her. Jacket, cell phone, purse — no ID in it, at Julian’s insistence — switchblade, useless medallion. She was still wearing her clothes. Hadn’t been here long enough to change into prison scrubs.

  It finally struck her that no one here had said a word about the Magesign, or pushed her when she’d only give her first name. She had to wonder why.

  “Come on,” the sheriff said. She followed him down a few hallways, through a door into the lobby of the station, where the person who’d bailed her out waited by the entrance.

  Not Julian. A stranger, a short man in a rumpled suit, tie loose and shirt unbuttoned at the top, with unkempt hair and bleary bloodshot eyes. “Miss Teague,” he said. “I’m a public defender with the DA’s office. If you come with me, we can talk about your case.”

  Then he gave her a sloppy wink.

  This was just bizarre, and all kinds of wrong. Public defenders didn’t bail people out of jail. And she had the weirdest sense of familiarity about this man she’d never seen before in her life. She opened her mouth to ask who he was, or maybe who’d sent him — but he shook his head, a slight motion he obviously didn’t want the sheriff to see. Not that the man of the law would’ve noticed. He was already headed back through the door into the rest of the station without saying another word.

  She decided not to say anything until they were outside.

  She crossed the lobby, and the man smiled and held the door open. He followed her outside and to the right, toward a bench at the end of the block where she intended to sit down and ask what the hell was going on. Nicely, she amended in silence. She really had to work on her temper.

  At least they were in Casper. There were no sheriff or police stations in the Warrens.

  When she reached the bench and sat, the public defender remained standing. “Bet you’re confused now,” he said. “I would be, if I was you.”

  “Yeah. You could say that. Who are you?”

  “A friend.” He looked around dramatically, and then pulled something from under his shirt, a small charm shaped like a crescent moon on a silver chain. It looked like the necklaces Goddard had. “Told you my merchandise works,” he said.

  “Your … merchandise?” She suddenly felt dizzy. This couldn’t be Goddard. It was a completely different person.

  Who kind of had Goddard’s voice.

  “Yep. One hundred per-cent guaranteed.” He reached for the back of his neck, looked around again, and unclasped the necklace. And then he was Goddard. “This one ain’t for sale, though,” he said. “Primed it myself.”

  “Uh. Right,” she said weakly, watching him fasten the chain and become a normal, if slightly scruffy-looking, public defender. “I…”

  “You should probably breathe for a minute,” he said. “You’re kinda changing colors.”

  “Good idea.” She did just that, taking slow breaths and letting them out until the dizziness passed. Then she pulled a faint smile. “I have no idea why you did, but thank you for bailing me out.”

  “Hey, I take care of my customers. Like I said.” He winked again. “So what you did last night—”

  “I’m sorry about that,” she said. “I didn’t know they would … I mean, Selby’s bar. Is she okay?”

  “Sure, sure. She’s fine. Impressed, like me.” The grin returned. “That something you do on a regular-like basis?”

  She blinked slowly. Was he asking if she went around beating up BiCo patrols all the time? If he was, maybe he did know something about the Darkspawn. “Yes,” she said, deciding to proceed with caution. “I’m not a fan of uniforms.”

  Goddard laughed. It was a surprisingly rich sound, nothing like his normal voice. “That being the case, you should swing around Five Cowboys again tonight. Let’s say seven,” he said. “You might make some new friends.”

  Well, damn. Could it really be this easy? “All right,” she said, and held a hand out. “Thank you, Goddard.”

  He shook firmly. “Don’t forget to prime that medallion. It’ll help you out, guaranteed” he said. “You got a ride to wherever you need to be?”

  “I can get one.”

  “Good. That’s good.” He nodded, as if he were convincing himself of something. “See you later.”

  Goddard walked away with a wave.

  For the next few minutes, Teague sat there looking at nothing in particular. Thinking. She was pretty sure she’d just been invited to meet the Darkspawn, by a man she could’ve sworn was a bottom-feeding nobody selling pretty trash in the streets — which wasn’t trash at all, apparently. Who’d also bailed her out of jail somehow. That had to cost a hell of a lot more than ten bucks.

  The phrase appearances can be deceiving was an understatement.

  Finally, she turned her thoughts to Julian and grew furious all over again. She ripped open the plastic bag she’d been holding on her lap, shoved her arms into the jacket and returned everything to her pockets except the phone. She dialed Julian’s number.

  He answered after the first ring. “Teague?”

  “Fuck you,” she spat. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

  “Tee, I’m sorry. Let me explain.”

  “You know, I really don’t want to hear it, but I will. And sorry is not enough, by the way.”

  He sighed. “I know it’s not. But I had to do it.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “Really. Are you in?”

  Her jaw clenched hard enough to hurt. “Yeah, I think I am,” she said. “I got invited back.”

  “That’s why I had to do it.” His voice broke a little, but she felt nothing at the sound. “Don’t you see? If you knew what was happening, your reactions would have looked fake no matter how hard you tried to hide it. This way you were genuine. And they bought it.”

  She closed her eyes against the helpless knots in her stomach. Damn it, he was right. But she hated him even more for it. “Look, just send a car for me,” she said. “I’m close to where they dropped me off. I’ll go there.”

  “Tee, please. I didn’t have a choice here.”

  “I don’t give a damn why you did it.” It was everything she could do not to scream. “It’s done, and it worked. Great. But there isn’t enough sorry in the world, Julian,” she said. “Have the patrols take me home. I don’t want to see you right now.”

  She hung up before he could reply, and ignored the phone when it started immediately buzzing, flashing his number.

  For the moment, Julian Bishop could go to hell.

  CHAPTER 23

  Yukon Street Clinic

  August 9, 11:30 a.m.

  Naomi sat in her cramped office trying to concentrate on the pharmaceuticals inventory list, mostly the depl
eted HeMo supply. Somehow she always came up short in the few weeks following the Eclipse, no matter how much she tried to plan ahead. It was a quiet day with only a few scheduled appointments, no walk-ins so far. She’d figured busywork might make the day go faster.

  But it wasn’t easy to focus. Not after what Scott said.

  No one should take it. Burn it all.

  She’d tried to call him again last night, and twice this morning. Still the recorded not-available message. She’d give it one more shot after she closed the clinic, and if the phone was off or he didn’t answer, she would drive out there.

  Already part of her was tempted to start giving placebo shots. But she couldn’t justify that without knowing why — and even if she did know, she might not agree. Maybe Scott really had just snapped and started spouting crazy conspiracy nonsense. Somehow he’d convinced himself it all made sense.

  She just didn’t believe that as completely as she wanted to.

  Rubbing a temple where she could feel a stress headache brewing, she turned back to the paperwork. The numbers continued to swim in a meaningless soup. She started to get up, to head for the lobby and freshen her coffee, when Aileen stepped in front of the open doorway and cleared her throat nervously. “Excuse me,” she said. And that was all. The woman looked downright flustered.

  “What’s wrong?” Naomi said, immediately concerned. “Please don’t tell me those patrol idiots are back again.”

  “Um. Well, no.” Aileen gave a fluttery smile, and Naomi realized she was blushing. “But there is someone here to see you.”

  Naomi held back a groan. There was only one unexpected person she could think of who’d make her assistant act like a nervous schoolgirl, and she still hadn’t decided how to deal with him. “If it’s Sawyer Volk, don’t bring him back here,” she said.

  “Too late,” a male voice replied from the hallway.

  Oh, good. She was right.

  “It’s fine, Aileen,” she said when the woman started to look upset. “Thank you. Do we have any fresh coffee?”

  Aileen was all smiles again. “I’ll go start some,” she said. “You two have a nice chat.”

  “I’m sure we will.”

  As the older woman waved and vanished from the doorway, Naomi tried to get around the cramped corner she’d crammed her desk into. She didn’t make it before Sawyer took up the space Aileen had just vacated. He was a lot cleaner than yesterday, his bruises and scrapes on the mend. He wore dark jeans, broken-in boots and a tight black t-shirt that showcased muscles she absolutely wasn’t looking at.

  The way he leaned on the door frame was almost possessive. “Nice office,” he said. “I’m going to guess you’re not claustrophobic.”

  “It’s a supply closet. Well, used to be.” She squeezed the rest of the way around the desk. “Could you step back, please? As you’ve so keenly noted, there’s not a lot of room.”

  “Hey, I don’t mind talking in here.”

  She huffed at him. “I do.”

  “All right. It’s your closet.” He held both hands up and stepped back.

  She managed to slip around him, into the hallway. “Do we have something to talk about, Sawyer?” she said.

  “Well, at least you remembered my name this time.” One corner of his mouth turned up. “Is there someplace we can sit down? Besides your shoebox, I mean.”

  “Tell you what. I’ll sit, and we’ll talk, if you let me check on those ribs.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You really don’t take ‘I’m fine’ for an answer, do you?”

  “Not often.”

  “All right,” he relented with a laugh. “I’ll let you poke me some more.”

  She decided not to hear the innuendo in that. “Follow me.”

  Sawyer trailed after her down the hall, and she gestured him into exam room four. “Have a seat,” she said.

  “What, on the table?” He gave her a dubious look as he edged past her. “You’re not going to have your nurse come in and take my temperature, are you?”

  The laugh she let out was unexpected, and it flushed most of her irritation. “Aileen isn’t my nurse,” she said. “And I’m not going to take your temperature.”

  “Oh. Good.” Sawyer settled on the edge of the exam table with a crinkle of tissue paper. “I guess it probably looks worse, but I promise it’s better,” he said.

  She smiled. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

  “Right. You’re the doctor.” He raised his shirt, wincing slightly as it cleared his ribs.

  It did look worse. She would’ve been more concerned if she didn’t know that bruises got messier before they went away. The discoloration had spread and darkened, red and maroon to purple, blue and black, and there were yellow patches between the dark masses. “Looks like a normal progression, at least,” she said. “How’s the pain?”

  “On a scale of one to screaming, it’s right around Constant Piss and Moan.”

  She laughed again, surprised at how good it felt. It had been a long time since she had something to laugh about. “All right. You can put your shirt down,” she said. “Keep icing it every few hours, and I’ll get you more pain meds to take with you.”

  He smiled and tugged his shirt into place. “Thanks, Doc.”

  “Ugh. Don’t call me that.”

  “Okay,” he said slowly.

  “I’m sorry. It’s not you,” she said. “That asshole Swain kept saying it the other day.”

  “Hey, that’s what I came to tell you.” Sawyer shifted on the table. “He’s … can I get down now? I feel like a giant little kid up here.”

  “Go for it.”

  He hopped down and leaned against the edge. “Anyway, Swain and Pearce were fired this morning,” he said. “Don’t worry, though. I had their captain give reasons that had nothing to do with you.”

  Naomi had mixed feelings about that. “And they’re going to believe I’m not the reason?”

  “Don’t know. I guess I’ll have to make sure you have extra security around here.”

  She made a half-dismissive sound. “What, like you?”

  “Maybe.”

  Something in his tone came close to making her blush, and she looked away to compose herself. “So, uh,” she said. “Is that all you came to tell me?”

  “Honestly, I was hoping you’d get my shirt off again.”

  “Er…”

  “To check my ribs.” His smile was blameless, but his eyes didn’t match.

  She cleared her throat loudly. “Well, thank you for the news,” she said. “I’d better get back to work. If you want me to check on you again, you can come back.”

  For a moment she thought he’d keep up the strange, not-quite-flirting vibe. But he shrugged and straightened, gave a casual nod. “I might do that,” he said. “Thanks again, Naomi.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  He’d started out of the room when she blurted, “Sawyer … can I ask you something?”

  He turned back. “Shoot.”

  “Okay. This might sound strange.” She drew a deep breath, thinking she must be crazy talking to a Knight about this. “Did you happen to notice yesterday that the Eclipse was … well, longer than it was supposed to be?”

  An unreadable look flashed across his face and disappeared. “What do you mean, longer?” he said.

  “So you didn’t notice. No one at BiCo—” She cut herself off and breathed again. “It was supposed to be an hour and four minutes, right?”

  “Yes. You’re saying it wasn’t?”

  “It was an hour and ten minutes,” she said. “I timed it.” She definitely wasn’t going to tell him why she timed it. Even this was probably too much.

  He frowned. “Clocks and electronics get screwed up during the Eclipse. How did you time it?”

  “With this.” She produced the pocket watch she’d never removed from her lab coat.

  Sawyer looked slowly from the watch to her. “Did you tell anyone else about this?”

  The questio
n startled her. “Well … no,” she said. Except for Scott, but he’d already known. And she wasn’t mentioning him to a Knight.

  “Not even Aileen?”

  “Not even her.”

  “Okay.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “Listen, do me a favor. Don’t tell anyone — at least not yet. Let me look into it first.”

  “Can I ask why not?”

  “Because if it gets around, people might panic,” he said.

  Damn. That was undeniably true, and she didn’t want to start another massive scare. They’d had enough of those already. “All right,” she said. “But promise me if you find something out, you’ll tell me.”

  “I’m not sure I can …” His mouth flattened. He looked at the ceiling, then back at her. “Okay. I promise.”

  “Thank you.”

  He smiled, the real one this time. “You’re welcome.”

  It should’ve relieved her, but it didn’t. She’d expected him to brush it off, say it was just a few minutes, no big deal. He hadn’t.

  And if Sawyer Volk was worried, she should probably be terrified.

  She was.

  CHAPTER 24

  Five Cowboys Bar

  August 9, 6:55 p.m.

  The place was considerably less crowded than it had been the previous night. It might’ve been just because it was early, but it didn’t help to calm her nerves.

  Teague sat at the bar nursing a Jameson with lime on the rocks, which she’d discovered she actually enjoyed. Selby Block had served her the drink without a word of greeting or a hint of acknowledgment, as if last night had never happened. She hadn’t seen Goddard anywhere on her way through the Warrens, and he wasn’t in the bar. Unless he was wearing one of those cantrips.

  She still couldn’t believe those things worked.

  That left her with absolutely no one she knew, and five long minutes until seven to wonder if she’d dreamed the whole thing. The beating she’d taken from the patrols was real enough — she could still feel it.