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

  *REMINDER: The Eclipse causes drastic interference with electronic devices, signals, and radio waves, and often results in complete disruption of electronic communication.

  4. DO NOT use firearms or electronic-based weapons during the Eclipse. Modern weapons and technology behave unpredictably during the event, and use of firearms, Tasers, cattle prods, and other related weapons can result in unintended injury or death. For a full list of prohibited weapons, please visit the BiCo website.

  5. Consider purchasing a single-use Eclipse Protection Kit, available at most retail stores and directly from the BiCo website.

  —Julian Bishop and BiCo care about your safety!

  Please help us to help you stay safe during the Eclipse.—

  List of official Designated Safe Zones in Casper and surrounding areas

  Jackson Street Shelter; Casper

  SaveMore Supercenter; Casper

  Locke-Grogan Memorial Shelter; Casper

  Ayers Building, New Horizons College; Casper

  Faith Center Community Building; Casper

  NEW: Desirae House Recovery Shelter; Casper

  Knights Shelter; Bishop

  Sunrise Shelter; Evansville

  Red Rock Shelter; Brookhurst

  North Shelter; Mills

  West Shelter; Red Butte

  Please call the BiCo Eclipse Hotline or visit the BiCo website for exact locations and more information on official Designated Safe Zones in your area.

  Year 5 A.E.

  Madden Ranch; Brookhurst, Wyoming – just outside Casper

  August 7, 1:07 a.m.

  “Dear God. This can’t be right.”

  Scott Madden stared at the last in a line of cracked, yellowed whiteboards tacked high on the barn wall, and the horrifying sharp curve of the graph he’d just plotted. Above the whiteboards were detailed maps — most of Wyoming, some of the whole country, a few of the world — covered with roughly drawn landmarks and borders, scribbled notes and equations. In some places he’d written directly on the walls. More papers and journals were stacked on tables, scattered across the floor, pinned irregularly to the empty stalls and wooden columns where he could reach them.

  He closed his eyes and opened them, as if the numbers would change. They didn’t. He moved slowly back along the whiteboards, looking at the figures and formulas, convinced he’d made some mistake.

  He hadn’t.

  Returning to the last board, he tried to uncap the whiteboard marker he held with shaking hands. Cap and marker fell to the floor. It would take him too long to pick them up, so he reached over and grabbed the marker from the adjacent board.

  This time he managed to open it. He rubbed a fist on the graph, erasing it, then drew a fresh field and re-plotted the data. He took his time. Everything crossed and dotted, as he used to say when he had a life.

  Same curve. One gentle bend, and then almost straight off the chart. Tomorrow’s Eclipse would be slightly more than double, and next year … oh, God, next year. And the year after that.

  If no one stopped this, soon the darkness would be here to stay. Forever.

  CHAPTER 1

  Casper, Wyoming — Year 5 A.E.

  Yukon Street Clinic

  August 7, 8:12 a.m.

  Ninety degrees already, and the sun had barely been up for two hours. If it was this bad tomorrow, more people would die of heatstroke than monster attacks during the Eclipse.

  Dr. Naomi Talbot offered a brief wave to the lone, desert brown-clad BiCo patrol officer at the back entrance of the clinic, knowing he wouldn’t wave back. They never did. There were two more out front — since last year’s annual Eclipse and the increasingly frequent terrorist attacks by the Darkspawn, security had been ramped up for every building with supplies of Hexylmorphizole on hand. Hospitals, clinics, pharmacies, shelters. And of course, the Bishop Corporation itself.

  Tomorrow, on Eclipse Day, there would be at least a dozen patrols and possibly a Knight here. Which would do absolutely nothing to calm the madhouse full of terrified patients this place would become in the hours before the sun went dark and the magic beat down on them.

  Naomi let herself in and closed the door, taking a moment to revel in the sweet relief of air conditioning. Aileen must’ve gotten here first. Not that she minded when her assistant beat her to work, because that meant there’d be fresh coffee waiting in the lobby.

  She made her way through the modest building with a brief stop in her closet-sized office to lock up her purse. The room actually had been a closet once, back when the world was normal. Then, she’d had a decent-sized office with a view where she talked to patients about things like smoking cessation and dietary changes and yearly flu shots. Now the big office was a HeMo supply room, and she brought patients to her closet to discuss what they should do if they started turning into trolls or ogres or centaurs.

  When there was an actual chance you might spontaneously grow fangs and try to eat your family, weight loss and lung cancer became a lot lower on your list of concerns.

  The lobby was brightly lit, and there was a full pot of fresh coffee, but no sign of Aileen. Strangely, the two televisions in the front room were on, both tuned to local news with the volume turned up to audible. Aileen still preferred to read the newspaper — in fact, the morning edition of the Evansville Gazette sat in the center of the reception desk, blaring a bold red headline:

  ECLIPSE DAY CHECKLIST! MAKE SURE YOU’RE PREPARED – ECLIPSE TO LAST 1 HOUR 4 MINUTES THIS YEAR

  Over an hour already. Naomi shook her head as she fished a mug from the cabinet beneath the coffee machine and wondered why she’d thought already. As if the six years since the dragons came had passed quickly. It felt like centuries ago, like the time before magic had been a distant dream — despite the fact that she’d lived nearly forty years of her life in the same blissful ignorance as the rest of the world. Now every day was a new opportunity to wait and see if disaster would strike again, and worse this time.

  BiCo insisted they were equipped to handle things if more dragons ever showed up. For some reason she doubted that assertion.

  She poured coffee and listened idly to Gail Redmond, the morning anchor for Casper’s News 7, burble her way through yet another puff piece on Julian Bishop.

  “…busy day tomorrow for the young CEO of the Bishop Corporation. In an earlier interview with News 7, Julian Bishop shared a touching personal discussion about the bittersweet nature of Eclipse Day, which for him is a remembrance of both victory and loss. The world knows him as a hero who defeated the last dragon, along with the unknown man who controlled them. However, Dr. Royce Bishop, Julian’s father and the company’s former CEO, was tragically killed in the struggle. This year Julian will officiate the memorial ceremony for Dr. Bishop with his brand new fiancée at his side. Carola Fierstein, the daughter of media mogul Brandt Fierstein…”

  A throat-clearing sound drew Naomi’s attention away from the news report. She turned to find Aileen standing behind her, holding a plate of assorted donuts. A single lit candle was stuck in the white-frosting center of a headlight donut, slightly angled and dripping bright yellow wax on the chocolate part.

  “Happy birthday, sweetie,” the older woman said with a grin. “I’d sing, but neither of us wants to hear my soprano. Trust me.”

  Naomi smirked. “Well, thanks for that,” she said. “You’re a day early, though.”

  “And we’ve got time to do this tomorrow?”

  “Of course we don’t.” She smiled faintly and watched the tiny dancing flame for a moment. Though she’d given up celebrating her birthday when August 8 became the worst day of the year for everyone, Aileen Davies wouldn’t hear of letting the occasion pass without a little something. The woman had been with her since she opened this place, fresh out of medical school with a burning desire to heal people. Save lives.

  But in this brave new world, all she could do was stave off the inevitable.

  Aileen waggled a hand to get her attention. “Bette
r make a wish,” she said. “We’re ruining a perfectly good donut here.”

  “Right.” Same wish, six years running. Take it all back. Let the nightmare end. She blew out the candle, shrugged, and then snagged a fat bearclaw from the plate. She’d have the headlight for lunch, if it was still there. “Thank you,” she said. “So what’s with the news being on? You hate the talking heads.”

  “Do I ever,” Aileen agreed cheerfully, setting the donuts on the back counter next to the coffee machine. “Those news people are obnoxious. But they’re supposed to interview Sawyer Volk soon. I love that man.”

  The smile Naomi flashed was dutiful. Most people idolized the Knights, Julian Bishop’s elite peacekeeping team who went out on horseback to fight monsters during the Eclipse — they had to, since all things electronic and mechanical tended to fritz out when the event happened. And true, the Knights were better idols than actors and football players. They did something important. They protected people.

  It was just hard for her to forget that the things they killed used to be people, too.

  “You don’t approve?” Aileen said, raising an eyebrow. “He’s a good-looking man, that Sawyer. About your age, too. And he used to be a movie star. Why don’t you watch—”

  Before her assistant could launch another round of her subtle you-should-think-about-remarrying campaign, the front door of the clinic opened and a young woman entered with a boy of around three in tow. Her face was flushed, beaded with sweat, and she swept a wary glance through the frosted glass door at the silhouettes of the BiCo officers outside as she closed it firmly.

  “Good morning.” Naomi smiled and set her mug down to come around the reception desk. Technically the clinic didn’t open until nine, but she didn’t mind the occasional early arrival. Besides, the woman was vaguely familiar. She had far too many patients to keep track of everyone personally, but she was sure this one had been here before. “How can we help you?”

  The woman scooped the boy into her arms and started briskly across the lobby. “Hi. You’re Dr. Talbot, right?” she said. “Emily Harris. This is my son, Robbie.”

  At his name, the little boy looked up and sniffled, then popped a thumb in his mouth and rested his head on his mother’s shoulder.

  “Hello, Emily.” A memory surfaced as the woman stopped in front of Naomi. “Robbie had an ear infection a few months ago, didn’t he?” she said.

  “Yes, but he’s all better now. It’s cleared up.” Emily darted another glance at the door, where the silhouettes outside were closer now, conferring with bent heads. She shivered slightly, and said, “That’s not why I’m here.”

  Naomi gave a slow nod. She was starting to notice more now, things that worried her — the light jacket Emily wore in spite of the heat, the fine silver chain around the boy’s neck that vanished into his shirt. Most of all, the look in the young woman’s eyes. Not so much worried as terrified. “Maybe we should talk in back,” she said carefully.

  Emily nodded gratefully and reached up to stroke the boy’s hair. As she did, the sleeve of the jacket rode back just enough to reveal a distinctive mottled blue pattern on her skin, like a tattoo drawn with bruises instead of ink. Magesign.

  A chill moved down Naomi’s spine. “Come on,” she said, ignoring Aileen’s half-horrified look as she put an arm around the young mother to steer her toward the exam rooms.

  They’d gotten no further than the desk when the door burst open and the sound of running feet invaded the lobby. “Stop right there!” one of the patrols shouted.

  “Oh, God,” Emily moaned, stumbling back from Naomi to stare at the officers. She swallowed once and thrust the boy into her arms. “Take him. Please,” she rasped. “My sister Joan. She’s the emergency contact on my file. She’ll come get him.”

  The startled child squirmed in Naomi’s arms, and started wailing.

  Grim-faced and shivering, Emily whirled and took off at a sprint toward the men in the BiCo uniforms. She darted between them and almost reached the door before one of them tackled her to the ground. Hard.

  Her pained cry drew a shriek and renewed struggles from Robbie. “Mommy!” the boy shouted. “Bad man! Get off my mommy!”

  “Robbie … baby, don’t.”

  At the woman’s desperate moan, Naomi knew she’d been right about the chain around Robbie’s neck. Most little boys didn’t wear necklaces — and it wasn’t a necklace. It was something she’d heard about but never seen. A cantrip, a charm that changed a person’s appearance and hid Magesign.

  The child was infected too. And the mother had chosen to risk her own arrest to save him.

  Her decision made, Naomi hustled around the desk with the boy. “Aileen, please take Robbie back to exam room two,” she said as calmly as she could, handing the child over. “Don’t worry, Robbie. Your mommy will be fine.”

  Robbie stared wide-eyed at her, and then beyond to where the officers were pulling Emily to her feet. “Don’t hurt my mommy.”

  “No,” she agreed. “No one will hurt her.”

  Aileen finally pulled herself together and tore her gaze from the unfolding scene in the lobby. “Come with me, sweetheart,” she said, grabbing a pink-frosted donut off the plate as she moved quickly toward the back rooms. “Do you like donuts? How about puzzles? I have lots of puzzles you can play with.”

  Robbie said nothing. His thumb had migrated back to his mouth, and he was shaking like a leaf in a high wind.

  As Naomi’s initial shock wore off, anger replaced it. She strode across the lobby, glaring at the officer who’d fastened Emily’s hands behind her back with plastic cuffs and shoved her jacket sleeve up to expose the Magesign. The other, the one who’d tackled her, was by the door muttering into a CB unit. “Don’t you think this is a bit excessive?” she said. “You’re both twice her size.”

  The patrolman, a thirty-something brute with dark eyes that chilled her blood, visibly fought a sneer. “We don’t take risks with Changers, ma’am,” he said. Politely enough, though a warning lurked beneath the surface. “They’re dangerous.”

  “She’s hardly a risk. And she was holding a child.”

  “She tried to run.” The other patrolman turned back from the door. This one didn’t bother hiding his contempt. “We’re authorized to use reasonable force—”

  “Reasonable!” Oh, this was bad. She really should step back, take care of little Robbie and worry about his mother once things had calmed down. But she’d never seen such a blatant display from any BiCo officer, and she was well and truly pissed. “That wasn’t reasonable,” she said. “Unless I’m mistaken, this is still the United States of America. Not the United States of Bishop. This woman has rights, and they include not being assaulted by a glorified security guard.”

  The man bristled. Before he could say anything else, his partner put a hand on his shoulder. “Take the Changer outside, Pearce,” he said. “I’ll handle this.”

  For a moment Naomi thought Pearce would refuse. Finally, he grabbed Emily by the elbow and steered her toward the door without another word.

  The woman glanced over her shoulder and tried to smile. “Thank you, Dr. Talbot,” she half-whispered.

  Naomi nodded. “Don’t worry. Robbie will be fine.”

  When the door closed, she turned to the remaining patrolman. “I want both of your names, and your badge numbers. Or whatever you have,” she said. “Don’t think I’m not going to report this.”

  “Sure thing. Doc.” The smile he gave her was a chilling parody of friendliness. He took out a pen and a pad of paper, scribbled something down and tore off the top sheet. “Here you go,” he said as he handed it to her. “You might want to keep in mind that we’re only doing our jobs, though. Julian Bishop and BiCo care about your safety.”

  “Of course you do. That’s the company line, anyway.”

  “More than a line, Doc. It’s a way of life.” He tipped a wink, the expression made gruesome by the implied threat behind it. “Trust me, you’ll want to be be
hind that line if anything goes wrong — not in front of it. It’s dangerous at the front. Hear what I’m saying?”

  Naomi tried not to shudder. “I hear you.”

  “Good. Now, what you do with that piece of paper is up to you.” He nodded at the scrap in her hand. “But if you want my advice, Doc, I’d just forget about it and get back to work. Gonna be a busy day here tomorrow, and Pearce and I will be here bright and early. With reinforcements.”

  “Yes, I’ll probably do that.” She was tempted to hand the paper back to him, but she made herself put it in her pocket instead. Not-so-subtle intimidation tactics aside, she was going to do something about this. She just didn’t know what … yet. “Thank you, Officer,” she said. “You can leave my clinic now. I have work to do.”

  “You got it, Doc.”

  With the door closed between them, Naomi released a shuddering breath and headed across the lobby. Maybe she couldn’t help Emily Harris right this second, but she could help the woman’s son.

  One patient at a time. Just as she’d always done.

  She happened to glance up at one of the televisions on the way through and caught the smug face of Sawyer Volk filling the screen. Poor Aileen was missing the interview. Sawyer had shaggy brown hair, day-old stubble, direct blue eyes — and yes, he was good-looking. Also perpetually hung over, and completely full of himself like the rest of the Knights. Like everyone who worked for BiCo, apparently.

  On impulse she pulled the paper that the officer gave her from her pocket and actually looked at what he’d written. Greg Swain, then a phone number, and a scrawled sentence: Call me for a good time, Doc.