The Dragon King and I (10 page)

Abruptly I stood, the motion jerking my hand out of his grip before he could kiss me again. It may have sent my chest spasming in pain from the zombie bite, and my head didn’t really appreciate the sudden movement either, but I considered the pain worth it just to be able to get away.

“Will you,” as I spoke I carefully edged around him to make my way to Sam, “excuse us, for just. One. Minute.”

Then, grabbing Sam by the arm, I pulled him into the guest bathroom, and slammed the door shut behind us.

Chapter Five

A woman is a female who is human,

Designed for pleasing man, the human male.

A human male is pleased by many women,

And all the rest you hear is fairy tale.

- Oscar Hammerstein II

“A zombie-fairy tried to eat my face.”

“I never said there weren’t downsides to being buried on this side of the veil.”

“You call being turned into a flesh-eating monster a downside?”

He shook his head at me and leaned back inside the tub as if it were bed fit for kings. “Do you have a better word for it?”

I had a bunch of adjectives running through my head right now, none of them kind. I had no real reason to get on Sam’s case, but nerves made me do strange things.

Like shout at a man who seemed to take joy in raised voices.

He was smiling even now.

My eye started twitching, and for what felt like the millionth time I cursed Flo and her live wire fingers. Still I forced myself to speak, calmly and reasonably, and took satisfaction in Sam’s disappointed sigh once I had myself under control.

“What happened out there?”

He folded his arms across his chest and looked up at the ceiling as he spoke. “It seems the Fairy in question dabbled in magic concerning the spirit.”

“So that’s what turned her into…that thing?”

“That and the influence of this realm.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” his eyes cut to me and the dark spots seemed blacker than usual; bigger too.

“Spend enough time here and this world would rot any of us.”

“Are you saying that just being here is enough to turn you-?”

“Evil? Most definitely. It’s why the witches aren’t allowed to stay longer than twelve hour spans at a time. They turn faster.”

“What about you? How’s your resistance so far?”

I meant it as a joke, but there was a thread of nervousness there too. I was right, the dark was getting larger and the blue of his eyes weren’t nearly as blue as they had been this morning.

He hesitated, and then, to my relief, he smiled. “I’ll be fine, little Siren. At least for a few more days.” his next words sort of threw cold water on my rising spirits. “Though, we may want to try for the second ingredient tonight.”

“Speaking of which,” my voice lowered and I leaned forward from my perch on the toilet seat lid. “Where did you put it?”

His eyes widened and he shook his head very slowly. “You don’t want to know.”

Since I wasn’t a complete glutton for punishment, I decided to take his word for it, though I could picture myself flinching each time I opened the refrigerator for the foreseeable future.

“Just make sure you don’t respond to her if you happen to hear her voice. She can be…tricky.”

“Is that what she was doing? Tricking me?” My thoughts were on the vision I’d had, of the faceless man with his warm hands and warmer lips. But I didn’t bring that up. Instead I said, “She said her name was Seraphim. What could she gain from lying about her name?”

Sam stayed quiet, and angled my head down to force him to meet my eyes. “Sam. She was lying, wasn’t she?”

“Define ‘lie’.”

I made a frustrated noise in the back of my throat and he held his hands up in surrender.

“No, she wasn’t lying. She is, was, the original Seraphim. The Fairy assigned to watch over your father’s family line.”

“Then who the hell,” I pointed wildly at the bathroom door as if Seraphim was on the other side of it instead of some love-sick, self-proclaimed knight. “Is the crazy stripper?”

“When witches are assigned to a certain family, they assume the name of the Fairy Godmother who was originally in charge of that family. Names have a lot of power, and it was just safer for the witches in the FGS to start off with a clean slate.”

My mind was working furiously, trying to go over everything the evil zombie fairy had said before she’d taken a chunk out of my chest.

Which, just FYI, hurt like a sonofabitch.

“Maleficent.”

Sam jerked upright in the tub, cringing as the sudden movement disturbed the gash across his stomach, and threw his hands in the air in the universal sign for ‘stop’.

“Don’t—”

“My fairy godmother is Maleficent?” Flinching as if I’d slapped him, Sam struggled to get out of the tub but got caught up momentarily in the shower curtains, so I continued my rant unencumbered. “I can’t believe this. I can’t believe the crazy dragon-lady from Sleeping Beauty is my freaking Godmother. No wonder she screwed up.”

Sam peeked out from around the curtains, and the expression on his face was full of amazement, and just a small hint, of suspicion. “Maleficent is a dragon?”

As soon as the words were out, he paled and slapped his hands over his mouth.

I noted his behavior, but couldn’t understand why he was acting so strange.

“Yeah,” I said slowly. Then conceded with a shrug, “At least in the cartoon she is.”

“Now why,” a silky alto crooned against the shell of my ear, “did you leave that tasty little morsel in the other room all by his lonesome?” Ice trailed down my spine and with a shudder and a squeal I arched off of the toilet and clambered into the tub with Sam.

Seraphim, or Maleficent, straightened to her full, imposing, height, with a grin.

“What’s the matter, pup?” she asked, eyebrow rising in abject curiosity, “It’s almost like you didn’t miss me.”

From the corner of my mouth I whispered, “Let me guess, is this like in Beetlejuice where when you say his name three times he appears no matter where you are?”

A little furrow appeared between his brows and his mouth twisted uncertainly. “I don’t know anyone named Beetlejuice, but yes. That’s the basic idea.”

“Good to know.”

Mali—I mean, Seraphim, was examining my bathroom with a judgmental eye and I couldn’t help but bristle when I saw her snort derisively at my choice of hand towels before letting them slide from her fingers.

Feeling like an idiot, I climbed out of the tub, slapping Sam’s hands away when he tried to steady me, and turned back to see Seraphim looking me up and down in something that looked suspiciously like concern.

“I was prepared to be very, very, angry with you, Samuel.” she said, reaching out to tug the collar of my once blue t-shirt down so that she could examine my wound more carefully. I hissed at the pain of spare fibers pulling from the edges of the torn skin, and tried to stay very, very, still.

“But I can see now that you called me here for a good reason.”

For the first time, I realized that she was in what must have been one of her stage ensembles. It had to be for a show since I doubted she’d get very far down the street in that get up before someone either paid her or slapped handcuffs on her.

Or both.

The ‘policewoman’ uniform she wore, complete with miniskirt that barely covered the bottom curvature of her ass and a midriff baring vest that strained around the rise and fall of her breasts, lacked handcuffs so I’m sure she would have appreciated the gesture either way.

Making concerned little noises in the back of her throat she led me back to the toilet and sat me down. I tried to ignore all the cleavage in my face but it was hard to do when she was pulling me out of my clothes and leaning over me like a concerned mother hen.

For some reason my eyes found Sam’s as he came to stand behind her, and I felt myself flush ten shades of red when I realized that he was making absolutely no effort to turn away as Seraphim took my top and tossed it into the sink. In fact he was staring unabashedly, not at the juicy bits as I had first assumed, but at the wound itself, and I had to fight not to try and place my hands over my breasts.

They were trying to see about me. If they could be adults, (especially the lovely Seraphim, who I’d had my doubts about), then so could I. Seraphim moved my bra strap off one shoulder, her movements careful considering the edges of the strap had taken some abuse, too. It was a miracle that it was still holding anything up. Then, crouching down, she pressed cool fingers against the skin and I realized just how hot the bite felt when the touch of her hand made me shiver.

“It’s infected. What did this?”

I opened my mouth to tell her about Seraphim version 1.0, and saw Sam give a decisive shake of his head.

“A spirit fae.”

“Oh, ho, ho.” Seraphim crowed, and looked up into my eyes with all the glee and pride of a parent who’d just seen their child score a goal in a little league game. “You survived an attack from one of the spirit fae? You lucky, lucky, girl.”

I cried out as she began pulling bits of stray cotton out of me with just the tips of her nails. “I don’t,” my words came out on a pant, “feel so lucky.”

She laughed, and leaned forward to kiss my forehead, and some of pain began to dissipate.

“Samuel, love, if you’d be so kind as to tell me what in the hell took you so long to inform me that my darling charge was suffering so?”

“She only just woke up.” his voice was defensive.

“Your point.”

He sighed and I saw his shoulders slump. “My point being that I wanted her somewhere safe after the incident with the Fae. Especially considering how long healing can sometimes take.”

Seraphim’s mouth was still tight with displeasure, but she nodded. “Granted.”

She examined the hole in my chest with a critical eye, and then, seemingly satisfied that she had gotten rid of any foreign additions, she waved her hand over the wound. I angled my chin down to watch, fascinated, as the skin knit itself back together again. With a tiny puff of sparkled air, it was done, and my collarbone was once again as good as new. I felt it and found that even the fever was gone.

Wish a sigh of pleasure, Seraphim beamed at me and I couldn’t help but smile back. Mal—(had to be careful about that since she could read my thoughts)—Seraphim may not have been the best Godmother, but at least she hadn’t tried to eat me. Plus she seemed to be coming through for me all right. First with the spell, then by sending Sam to protect me.

I frowned. I don’t know what she’d been thinking when she picked out Conric. Still, I’d give him a fair chance to prove himself. I was still frowning when I looked up to see Seraphim backing Sam against a wall. Her boots, black leather that came up past her knee with a heel that could stake a vampire, clacked against the tile of the bathroom floor, and poor Sam just grew paler and paler with each step she took towards him.

“Sammy, don’t be like this. You’re breaking my heart.”

“I’ll heal fine on my own.”

“But we need you at full strength to protect our little damsel.” Sam’s eyes cut to me and his jaw worked. “Why spare your strength on something so trivial?” she grabbed the bottom of his battle-worn shirt and began easing it up. “Let me heal you.” she purred, and I found myself lunging to my feet.

“I’ll do it.” I said, with more force than was necessary and they both turned to stare at me with twin expressions of shock. Though there was a glimmer of amused understanding in Seraphim’s gaze that I didn’t want to examine too closely.