CHAPTER FIVE

Touche

 For better or worse, the only thing more rare than dragonslayers were dragons themselves, so Christian found himself raised in a time where his very specialized skills were nearly obsolete. He still carried around his neck the family weapon that was named appropriately, Dragonsbane. At the moment it looked like a tiny but intricate knife. But in his hands it could take any shape he required. I’d tried for years to get the details of what power a slayer held over dragons, and what power the blade specifically held, but he kept his ancestor’s secrets hidden well for the most part. Once he’d gotten drunk and told me that all of the mountains in the world were just sleeping dragons. That’s when I’d known that a drunk Christian was no place to get information.

Dragonslayers themselves, though long lived, were not immortal. A five hundred year lifespan isn’t a bad deal either, though. And if they could get their hands on some dragon’s blood to drink, the possibilities were endless.

Christian himself was a young slayer. We’d never talked about it, but I didn’t think he was older than his forties. He didn’t look it, of course. He knew I was older than him, but the actual truth would have shocked him. He had always assumed Lynn and I were exceptionally powerful fire sorcerers. I encouraged the assumption. Some secrets are best kept even from the closest of friends. Our friendship with Christian, for obvious reasons, unquestionably required it.

We began to fight in earnest. I did pretty well, all things considered, but I could tell he was taking it easy on me.

“You know, you can hardly complain,” he panted at me. He was across the room, since I had thrown him there. “If we were to compare notes on who has taken more shit from the other’s love life, I’m well ahead of you, dear.” He gave me a half smile to soften the blow, but it still landed solidly.

“Touché,” I said softly, stung. It was very true. When I had left Dom seven years ago, Christian had been tortured for information. He hadn’t revealed one thing to them, and he’d known plenty. “I did tell you to lay low for awhile.” I tried to sound lighthearted, but didn’t manage. I knew Christian was long over it, but I wasn’t.

He shrugged. “I’m not scared of the druids. Actually, the bastards had the nerve to contact me recently.”

His revelation surprised me enough to get me pinned face first to the ground while my mind worked the ramifications out. “When was that?” I panted.

“A few weeks ago. I guess they suspect that the necros have recruited a few new created Others to their cause. Same old shit that’s been going on forever.” I struggled hard, but couldn’t budge him. He continued talking, as though he didn’t even notice my struggles. “That age-old debate between the Born and the Created. Sounds as if hostilities have escalated, though. Druids are putting together a team to move in on one of the necro settlements, fry up some of their half-dead asses. They’re gonna make an example. They wanted to know if I wanted in on the action. Cheeky blokes. They thought I’d be tempted by the carnage of an all out brawl.”

“Does kind of sound like a good time.” Panting, I finally threw him off.

“Yeah, I thought so. I agreed to help them,” he said, shocking me and effectively ending our session.

“Ok, lift more weights after I leave, candy ass. Training’s over for today.”

I made our usual after workout shakes. He didn’t notice when I put a drop of my blood into his glass. How crazy do you have to be to feed your blood to the only thing on earth that can kill you, in order to prolong it’s life, and make it stronger? Yeah, about that crazy.

I brought two glasses to the table, handing him one. I went to grab some napkins, and as I turned back, I would have sworn he was checking out my ass. “Were you just checking out my ass?” I was a little baffled that I even had to ask.

“Yes.” He took a drink of my less than tasty concoction.

I wrinkled my nose at him. “Why?”

His eyes were pointing at my chest now. “It still just baffles me, even after all these years. Looks-wise, you’re my ideal.”

“Me and every other woman in the state,” I agreed dryly.

He shrugged. “But there is no attraction. Zero. I guess I’ll just never understand it. There are women I know, that I can’t stand to talk to, that aren’t half as good-looking as you, and I’d still screw ‘em. What the bloody hell? You know, it would be convenient, if we could like each other like that. They say good friends make the best lovers.”

I burst out laughing, and couldn’t stop for a solid five minutes. He looked insulted, but eventually started grinning. “Just think of us as blood relations,” I explained to him. There was, of course, a very logical answer to the question he was asking, but I’d never be the one to tell him what it was. Not willingly. “Or a cat and a dog. It just ain’t right, so leave it at that.”

His sardonic look told me from experience that he was agreeing with me. “Fine. So tell me who worked you over?”

I groaned. “It’s a mess.”

“Tell me.”

“Mav and Michael did it. Some witch-hag turned us in for a reward to the druids. She told them about our shop. Those two showed up, as shocked to see me as I was to see them. I let them work me over.”

He looked about as surprised as I’d ever seen him. “The bastards actually fell for that?” he sputtered, half choking back a laugh. It never took Christian long to figure out a punch line. Well…almost never. “My god, Dom is gonna kill them if he finds out. And they’ll deserve it, for being such idiots.”