Artifacts, Dragons, and Other Lethal Magic Read online

  Oh, God, no. That sounded like a terrible idea.

  Chi Wen turned to shuffle back in the direction from which he’d just come.

  “Um, far seer?” I called after him, though I was seriously glad his attention had shifted elsewhere. “I think you were just leaving … before, I mean. Before I got here.”

  “Yes, yes,” he said without looking back. “But now you are here.”

  I blinked and he was gone. Chi Wen was stronger and faster than he liked to appear. But he couldn’t completely disguise his potent magic from me. At least not in the nexus.

  I glanced around, realizing I had no idea where I was supposed to go. Not for the first time, I wished cellphones worked in the nexus. And that Warner actually carried one.

  The guardians used the portal magic anchored to the nexus as a communication device. And while I was fairly certain at least one dragon had to be in the nexus in order to make a connection, I wasn’t sure I could access the magic the same way. Other than calling the treasure keeper to me … and I wasn’t really interested in summoning anyone. I just wanted this over and done with.

  So I could wait around for Warner. Or —

  The summons! “Right,” I said, annoyed at myself. Even though I could blame my current distraction on the far seer, I was dreadfully slow sometimes. “I have no idea where or what the chamber of the treasure keeper is.”

  I said it out loud, though I wasn’t actually expecting a direct answer. But a blank door tiled in smooth, white metal to my far right blew open with a blast of glacial air. All the hair in my nose instantly froze.

  “Jesus,” I muttered, shoving my hands in my pockets and blinking rapidly to ease my suddenly dry eyes.

  The chill abated. When no one immediately stepped through into the nexus, I slowly wandered toward the open door. The portal’s magic glowed invitingly, but I didn’t want to be in anyone’s way if they were coming through. I glanced at the doors on either side. The one on the right led to South America. I knew that because I’d walked through it a year ago and ended up in the mountains of Peru. The door on the left was the door Chi Wen had been shuffling toward a moment before.

  I had no idea where the portal standing open before me led. Obviously, I knew Pulou’s territory was technically Antarctica, but I’d assumed that was just an honorary title. Because who wanted to go for a walk in a vast, frozen continent? Though … that might explain the treasure keeper’s ever-present fur coat —

  How much longer are you going to dither, Jade Godfrey? Pulou’s British lilt sounded in my head, conveyed through the portal’s power. He was amused.

  Great. I loved entertaining guardians. Not.

  “An idea of a destination might be nice,” I muttered, stepping into the golden magic.

  I passed through into a chamber that was almost identical to the nexus, except it appeared to have only one door. Well, one door that I could see. The endless, gravity-defying mountains of magical artifacts and treasures that spread out before me might have been obstructing or obscuring other exits.

  I stumbled under the unexpected onslaught of magic emanating from the treasure trove. I was out of practice shielding my dowser senses. I never really needed to do so anywhere but in the nexus. But the chamber of the treasure keeper was every bit as intense.

  Every type of magic I’d ever tasted bombarded me from all directions. With a single inhalation, I could taste the power inherent in witches, sorcerers, dragons, shapeshifters, and vampires. But all of that was intermingled with countless other sources for which I had no context or classification.

  A massive concentration of blood magic and black magic gathered among the more benign items, making my stomach curl sourly. It made sense that such malicious power would be contained in the trove, though. The treasure keeper’s primary function — after maintaining the portal system — was to hold and protect any artifacts that might be dangerous in the wrong hands.

  The haphazard piles of gold and gems, weapons and jewelry, statues and vases weren’t sorted or stored in any sort of logical fashion. Not that I could figure out, at least. Apparently, Blossom hadn’t expanded her territory to include the treasure keeper or his chamber.

  “Welcome to Antarctica.” Pulou’s voice boomed through the room rather than in my head, but I couldn’t actually see him yet.

  “Thanks,” I muttered, straightening my shoulders and coaxing my necklace to shield my overwhelmed dowser senses. “But it’s actually my second visit. Though it’s a hell of a lot bigger than I remember.”

  I might not have known that a door led to it from the nexus, but I recognized the chamber of the treasure keeper now that I’d stepped into it.

  While hunting down the first instrument of assassination, I had reached into the dragonskin map and plucked an artifact from the treasure trove. At the time, I’d thought I was somehow standing inside the enormous fur coat Pulou always wore — and whose extradimensional pockets held all kinds of magic in ways I didn’t understand. Maybe I was back inside that coat right now. The metaphysics of magic were way beyond me. Good thing I was super okay with not actually knowing one way or the other. I had no interest in cluttering my head more than it already was.

  Warner stepped around a distant mountain of treasure, managing to avoid kicking the gold coins pooled across the floor. He was dressed in his dragon leathers. And they fit him so, so well.

  A saucy grin spread across my face, and I cocked my hip sexily before I met his stony gaze. The soon-to-be-ex-sentinel was not a happy camper.

  He promptly closed the space between us, reaching out for my hand. Then, changing his mind, he swept me into a bruising kiss.

  Magic exploded against my chest, spreading out where my necklace wrapped around me — but pooling most intensely where the betrothal rings rested above my heart.

  I gasped.

  For a brief, painful moment, it felt as if I were bleeding … torn … on fire.

  I wrapped my arms around Warner, holding him as tightly as I could. He thrust his tongue into my mouth, and I met him with equal intensity.

  Whatever crazy energy had flared up between us settled back into my necklace, leaving the metal warm even through the layers of my T-shirt and tank top.

  Warner loosened his hold on me just enough to drop his gaze to my chest. A grin eased the strife that had hardened his face. “You added the rings.”

  I nodded. “Did you feel them?”

  “Yes.” The single word was full of satisfaction and pleasure. He brushed his fingers over the two betrothal bands. Then — not one to let a perfect opportunity pass — he managed to cop a healthy feel.

  I laughed huskily.

  Snarky female laughter rang out across the room.

  Freaking Shailaja was somewhere close by.

  Warner growled, releasing me reluctantly. “We’re waiting on the healer and the warrior, but I’d rather just get this over with.” He turned back the way he’d come. “I’m glad you took the time to add the rings. All the better for the battle you’re about to undertake.”

  I jogged a couple of steps to catch up to him. “That’s not ominous at all.”

  He grunted, then navigated us around the curve of a wall of treasures to our left. I stopped myself from trailing my fingertips along the arm of a large gilded throne that teemed with magic as we passed. Its red velvet seat was shredded as if clawed by a large beast. Next to it, a dozen or so oil paintings were propped against a pile of variously sized wooden chests overflowing with gems, chalices, and daggers. I couldn’t actually see a ceiling other than a vast wash of white-gold light that illuminated everything within the chamber.

  I had no idea how Pulou — or anyone else for that matter — would ever be able to find any specific item within the chamber. I coaxed more shielding from my necklace, feeling the onslaught of magic ebb to a multiflavored trickle.

  The room opened up before us, revealing that only the entrance was constructed in a similar design to the nexus. A glance back over my shoulder s
till gave me the impression of a rotunda, though, so there was most likely some sort of space-altering magic built into the chamber. That wasn’t unusual with buildings of dragon construction. If we were actually in a physical building at all. Though Pulou’s mention of Antarctica seemed to support that hypothesis.

  I had always thought that the treasure keeper also being the guardian of Antarctica was weird. Did penguins really need a full-time guardian? But it made sense that a vast frozen continent would be a great hiding place. Its remoteness would add to the chamber’s magical security.

  A large stone table stood before us, rune carved and smooth edged. The area around it was cleared, as if the surrounding artifacts and collectibles had been shoved back a few feet to leave a vaguely circular space.

  “Why is it always with the altars?” I muttered to Warner.

  He snorted. “Magical anchors.”

  “There isn’t any bloodletting on the agenda, is there?”

  “Well, there wasn’t in the initial application of the binding. But Shailaja hasn’t been forthcoming about the process of its removal.”

  Pulou stepped out from between two mounds of treasure behind and to the right of the altar. As broad and beefy as a grizzly bear in his fur coat, he was carrying a gold-banded porcelain bowl and an ornamental serpentine dagger. At least I was hoping it was ornamental.

  When the treasure keeper spotted us, he held up the bowl. “Found it.”

  Shailaja snorted from somewhere behind Pulou. Though I hadn’t even laid eyes on her yet, she set my teeth on edge. It wasn’t just that she was currently in the form of a tiny teen. It was because she was petite and snotty. Petite, snotty people irked me in general. As petty as it was, I found myself hoping she returned to her adult form with some exotic, incurable skin condition when I unlocked her magic.

  “The bowl, the dagger, and the altar were used in the initial binding,” Warner said. He spoke quietly, though the other dragon ears in the chamber would have no difficulty hearing him.

  “I must insist that the alchemist aids me first,” Shailaja said. She spoke to Pulou, ignoring Warner and me as she stepped up beside the guardian. Her accent was a slightly stronger and far more prissy version of the treasure keeper’s British lilt. “It’s far too dangerous to perform the unbinding improperly trained.”

  I mentally amended my wish list for Shailaja to a painful bout of syphilis. The STD had been incurable in the sixteenth century, right? The rabid koala needed to be taken down more than a few notches.

  Pulou grimaced, but he otherwise ignored Shailaja’s ‘insistence.’

  As the rabid koala finally turned to eye me up and down, I couldn’t help but smirk. The treasure keeper clearly wasn’t her biggest fan — telling a guardian that he didn’t have the training to pull off a spell really wasn’t a great idea. And if my father and Suanmi couldn’t stand her, then Shailaja didn’t have many friends in the nexus.

  “That’s what you wear to perform great magic?” she asked, clearly perturbed by my jeans and T-shirt.

  Me: one. Rabid koala: zero.

  “The T-shirt seemed appropriate given our last encounter,” I said, gesturing toward the two crows and the ‘Attempted Murder’ emblazoned across my chest. “Seeing as how I kicked your ass.”

  Shailaja narrowed her muddy-brown eyes at me. She was wearing a navy-blue chiffon-silk dress with a scooped neck, and it was practically falling off her bony, pallid shoulders. The fabric of the dress gathered underneath her breasts and pooled at her feet. It was made for a much taller woman.

  She wasn’t wearing anything underneath the reams of thin silk. That was somehow even creepier than the altar.

  The silence hanging between the two of us stretched. Warner was a statue at my left side, ready to back me in an instant. Pulou was fussing with the placement of the bowl on the altar. We were making him uncomfortable, which was almost amusing.

  I upped the wattage of my smile, dancing my fingers across my jade knife. It was currently snug at my hip in its invisible sheath, but could be drawn and at the rabid koala’s throat in a heartbeat.

  Shailaja’s hand strayed down to a silk tote bag she wore slung over her shoulder. I hadn’t noticed it against the dress because it was almost the same shade of navy blue. The tote looked full.

  “You think you have anything in that bag that could beat me in here?” I whispered. I swept my left hand to encompass the treasure chamber. “With all this power at my beck and call?”

  I turned to address Pulou. “Even so, it’s probably not a great idea just letting Miss Crazy wander around here unchecked.”

  The treasure keeper cleared his throat. Now I was the one questioning his abilities.

  “Sorry,” I muttered.

  “This was where the spell was first performed,” Shailaja said smugly. “Removing it here gives Warner the best chance of survival.”

  Warner snorted. “Removing the spell will not harm me.”

  “Well, not if I perform the ceremony,” she purred. “In my hands, there would be absolutely no chance of you coming to harm. Anything else is a risk, though. I want you at my side, Warner. Not in the ground.”

  “Boring,” I said, stretching the word out in a singsong manner.

  “I would prefer to await the healer,” Pulou said, ignoring our inane banter. “Sentinel?” He nodded to Warner. “You are sure?”

  “I am. Though …” Warner turned his stony gaze on the rabid koala. “Binding or none, I will still be the sentinel of the instruments of assassination.”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Shailaja said, giggling breathlessly.

  I snorted. “Stuck in the past,” I muttered, recalling what the fire breather had said to me in the bakery. “How about utterly delusional?”

  Warner stepped forward, stripping off his leather vest to give me a delightful view of miles of skin, broad shoulders, and a torso that tapered to highlight his leather-encased ass.

  Yeah, I still enjoyed ogling him behind his back.

  He turned and winked at me.

  Okay, so maybe I was a little obvious.

  Shailaja stepped up to stand beside Pulou on the opposite side of the altar. Her head came only halfway up to the guardian’s shoulder.

  Warner climbed up on the altar; then he lay down on it, face up. The shoulder that bore his dragon tattoo was directly next to the bowl where Pulou had placed it.

  “Um,” I said. “That doesn’t really help with the whole creepy aspect.”

  Warner chuckled.

  “I repeat my objection,” Shailaja said, sounding seriously concerned. Her face was far too close to Warner’s gorgeous chest for my liking. “The alchemist should first aid me in unlocking my reserves. Then I will free the sentinel from the ties that bind him to the instruments.”

  “Yeah, right,” I said. “Because you’re so trustworthy.”

  Shailaja lifted her gaze from Warner’s stoic profile to meet mine. I stepped up to face her across the altar. She smirked but didn’t answer me.

  Now that I was closer, I could feel the power thrumming off the stone table. Though its edges were rounded, the top slab was constructed out of rough-hewn granite and was framed with an intricate border of images and runes. I didn’t recognize the etchings, but I was fairly certain that one of the four carved stone legs was intended to be a Chinese guardian lion, typically seen on temples, palaces, and … tombs.

  Pulou spoke. “With the table unearthed and the artifacts used to cement the binding identified and recovered, plus the notes from the journal you discovered, Jade, I feel confident in my ability to perform the ritual.”

  Shailaja looked surprised. Then her face twisted into a grimace. “You have one of my father’s journals.” Her voice was flat.

  “Indeed.” Pulou didn’t even spare her a glance.

  “You seem surprised, Shay-Shay,” I said. “Like maybe you thought they’d all been torched for some reason.”

  “I’d like you better if you couldn’t talk,�
�� she said spitefully. “You’re useful but annoying.”

  Pulou rolled his eyes. “Let me see what is keeping the healer.”

  I waited, expecting him to leave. But when he didn’t move away, I realized he was having the conversation in his head. “Don’t you need to physically be in the nexus to communicate with him?” I asked.

  Pulou glowered at me. “I am the master of the portals.”

  Right. Don’t question the ways of a supreme guardian. Check.

  Shailaja wiggled her fingers to draw my attention. She was hovering her hand over Warner’s chest. She made a grab for one of his nipples, but he seized her wrist roughly before she could touch him.

  Bones snapped. She … giggled.

  “Oooo, Warner. I do like this new coarser, lustier version of you. I guess I can thank the alchemist for that as well. Since I assume you’ve modeled yourself after her.”

  Warner released her. He turned his head slightly to look at me, deliberately cutting Shailaja out of his line of sight.

  I twined my fingers through his.

  “Don’t,” Shailaja hissed, suddenly deadly serious. “Don’t touch the altar.”

  I pointed a finger at her, then gestured back to the words on my T-shirt. Attempted. Murder.

  “I don’t get it,” Shailaja snarled. “It isn’t funny or smart if I don’t get it. It’s just stupid and childish.”

  “Well, this is going as well as expected,” Qiuniu said from behind me. The second after the healer announced his presence by speaking — his Brazilian accent was almost as yummy as he looked — I could hear the light strains of music he carried with him everywhere. Considering how heavily I was having to shield myself from the magic in the chamber, I wasn’t surprised that I hadn’t felt him approach.

  I turned, allowing myself to simply stare at the most gorgeous man I’d ever laid eyes on. Even though I was gaga for Warner, I could admit that Qiuniu was damn pretty. If you liked that sort of thing. And it seriously didn’t help my concentration that he was currently swathed in samurai-inspired combat gear, similar to my father’s but with burgundy accents. Though he wore no helmet and wasn’t currently carrying a sword, he’d obviously just come from somewhere he had deemed more dangerous than usual.