The Lost Dragon Princess

Chapter 24

“There are vampires in Woodinville?” Diavan asked. “That’s out in the suburbs, isn’t it?”

“Vampires can’t be suburban?” I asked as Min pulled out her phone and looked up an address. “Maybe he’s a fan of the wineries out there.”

I would have to check the lore to see if vampires could drink anything but blood. I hadn’t dealt with many in my line of work. Like these quasi-mythological dark elves, they stayed under the radar—and the surface of the earth.

“I suppose,” Diavan said. “He doesn’t drive a minivan, does he?”

“You can’t possibly have a prejudice against vans.”

“Here.” Min texted me a link.

It wasn’t the map address I expected but a real estate listing for a house that had been on the market for Mine-hundred-some days.

“Do people not want to buy from a vampire?” I asked.

“Nobody outside of the magical community knows about the vampire. No, let me clarify that. Nobody knows where he lives. He is quite famous online. He knows how to use the socials.” Min gave me a stern look.

I lifted my hands in resignation. “If I manage to save my boss and clear my name, I will definitely look into social media marketing for my services.”

“Excellent. I want to make sure my clients do well, so they can continue to afford my services.”

“You’re a savvy businesswoman.”

“Yes.” Min smiled. “Wait one moment, please.”

She hopped into the truck.

“My life has gotten very strange in the last thirty-six hours,” Diavan remarked.

“I’ve seen your yard art. Your life was already strange.”

“Have we known each other long enough that it’s appropriate for you to insult me?”

“I don’t know. What if I buy you another tank of gas?”

“That’ll make it okay then. Also, will you ask your friend if she teaches classes on business stuff? I don’t know how to market my art. The people who come by the property only want to pay twenty dollars for it. But it takes me a long time to find the pieces that will work with my special touch.” He wiggled his fingers to indicate the enchantments his dwarven blood had allowed him to learn.

Min returned with a brochure and several business cards. “Please give these to Zaqose and let him know that if he needs any weapons made, or if any of his fellow vampires need them made, I can accommodate him. Also, I am thinking of branching out into magical armor.”

“If he doesn’t try to bite my neck the instant we meet, I’ll give these to him.”

“Of course he will try to bite your neck. You are the hated Mythic Murderer. But please also give him my brochure as a favor to me. And then I will do a favor for you. This is how networking works.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Min kept me in guns and ammo. If she wanted me to hand out business cards to vampires, I would do it.

“Thank you.” Min waved to me and smiled shyly at Diavan.

I wondered if he liked girls with blue hair. And if he was paying attention to her marketing tactics. Clearly, he needed to make brochures and hand them out.

“Mythic Murderer?” Diavan asked as we walked back to the van.

“I hadn’t encountered that one before. Lovely to hear that there are so many variations of my nickname.”

“Are we driving to Woodinville tonight?”

“Yes.” I imagined Willard hooked up to IVs with electrodes attached to her chest.

“Is night the best time to visit a vampire?” Diavan climbed into the driver’s seat.

“If you want him to be awake, probably.”

“And we want that?”

“It’s hard to question someone locked in a coffin.”

Diavan put the keys in the ignition as I buckled in next to him, but then held up a finger. “One second.”

He ducked into the back and rummaged around in the crate under the bobblehead doll. He returned with…

“Why do you have a cervical collar?” I asked.

“My attempt to learn to snowboard last winter was problematic.” He buckled it around his neck. All he needed was a backboard, and he would look like someone about to be carted out of a swimming pool for a diving-board injury. “There. My neck will be safe tonight.”

As he drove off, I didn’t point out that vampires could probably use any vein to suck blood. It wouldn’t matter. Zaqose was sure to go for the Mythic Murderer first.

“This is a nice neighborhood for a vampire,” Diavan remarked as we drove along winding roads that had once been out in the country but were now lined with well-lit McMansions with impeccable grassy lawns and immaculately trimmed hedges.

“Vampires are usually a few hundred years old. That’s a long time to accumulate wealth. Though it sounds like the house is vacant and he may be a freeloader.” I pointed to a driveway with a real-estate sign staked into the grass next to it. “That’s it. Park anywhere. Min said the vampire lives in the barn out back.”

“You sure it’s vacant? All the lights are on, and there are two cars in the driveway.”

“I suppose just because it’s for sale doesn’t mean that it’s vacant. Park over there. It looks like someone’s having a party.” I waved to the house across the street with cars filling the driveway and parked along the curb. “We’ll do our best to avoid notice. Insomuch as we can in this van.”

“What’s wrong with Bessy?” Diavan pulled up behind a Tesla.

“It’s not part of the neighborhood’s typical auto demographic.”

I left the smelly hooded jacket in the car, doubting we’d run into the police out here, and crossed the street. Diavan caught up with me as I headed up the long driveway. The grass was wet from an earlier rain, so I didn’t want to walk on it and hoped for a path around the house farther up.

“You and your cervical collar don’t have to come.” I sensed the aura of someone magical in the distance, out back behind the house somewhere. The vampire was home.

“I’m still waiting to see the tiger. You’ll have to bring him out if a vampire tries to bite your neck.”

“True. I’m thinking of bringing him out right now.” I reached for the figurine.

Once Diavan rubbed Damas’s ears, I could send him back to the van. Even though he didn’t look like the damsel-in-distress type, it would be stupid to take him to see a vampire. He wasn’t even armed.

As I was about to call Damas forth, the front door opened. Hell, we should have veered off across the lawn, wet grass regardless.

“Wonderful, wonderful,” a woman said, walking out and guiding a couple to the parked cars. “No, no, I don’t mind the late showing. I’m happy to work with people’s busy schedules.”

I shifted my hand to my cloaking charm but realized that would leave Diavan standing alone in the driveway.

The woman spotted us before I finished debating if we could dart off across the lawn without being noticed.

“Uh, can I help you?” Somehow, she managed to smile and wave the couple into their Mercedes at the same time as she frowned at us.

“Yes.” I spotted the RE/MAX logo on her SUV. “We saw that you were showing this house and wondered if we could also look around.”

Her frown deepened as she looked at Diavan and his metal T-shirt. “Did you see the price on the flyer out there?”

“Of course. We’re pre-qualified.” I smiled. “My fiancé works at Microsoft. Game designer.”

“You injured your neck as a programmer?”

“Uh,” Diavan said.

“No, he did that while spring skiing up at Whistler. We have a condo up there. Vacation place, you know. We’re looking to buy a new house down here, close to his work.”

“Look, lady, my bullshit detector is spot-on.” She pointed a finger at my chest. “There’s nothing in there to steal. The owners moved all of their stuff out two years ago. You two get out of here right now, or I’ll call the HOA security patrol.”

Oh man, the HOA security patrol. That had me quivering in my boots. But I didn’t really want to c***k a real-estate agent on the head with the flat of my blade, so I led Diavan back across the street. We found some dark, damp hedges to smoosh ourselves into while we waited for her to leave.

She called someone before getting in the car. The security patrol, no doubt.

“Sorry,” Diavan said. “I’m not that good at lying. There was never any point when I got caught doing something as a kid. Nobody believed I was innocent no matter what I said.”

“Where’d you grow up?”

“South Bronx. My parents immigrated from Russia. Dad beat me up at home, and the big kids beat me up outside of it. Until I got big enough to take care of myself.”

I opened my mouth, about to ask if that had been when he was seven or eight, but a few shadowy figures stepped out of hedges similar to ours farther up the street. Had they come from the party? They all had their hoods up and were wearing long dark jackets or maybe cloaks. Who the hell wore cloaks anymore?

Something twanged my senses, magic being used. Were they magical themselves? I couldn’t tell. They seemed strangely blank to my perceptive elven blood.

“Who are they?” Diavan muttered.

“Not the HOA security, I’m guessing.”

A shadow rose up out of the street as the figures crossed, heading toward the vacant house, and it seemed to engulf them. They disappeared from my sight and the magic faded from my senses.

“Friends of Zaqose, maybe,” I added.

The real-estate agent remotely turned off most of the house’s interior lights, leaving on the driveway lights, then drove away. A few seconds later, a security car cruised through. It pulled into the driveway, and the patroller got out and walked up to the front door with his flashlight and night stick.

“This is taking forever.” The house next door had all of its lights off, so I headed up the street for its driveway.

Diavan stayed close. Once again, I was tempted to send him back to the van, but after seeing those hooded guys disappear, I worried he would be safer with me. Once I reached the next driveway, I summoned Damas.

I sense a vampire, he informed me before he’d fully solidified.

That’s Zaqose. Do you sense anyone else?

Hm, I smell many people about, across the street and walking around that domicile. His nose was pointed at the vacant house.

The security guard?

No, this is a group that’s moving around the side of the house and heading to the back. I believe stealth charms are being used, but they are not as good as yours, since they do not camouflage scent.

I headed up the gravel driveway, the only gravel anywhere on the street, to a log rambler that must have been here long before the rest of the neighborhood was built. I wondered if the HOA trooper covered it, or if it was left out of the club.

The windows were dark, so I led the way around to the back, where the mowed grass stretched halfway back to a pond, with much taller, unkempt grass beyond it. Once we were back there, two structures were visible behind the vacant house. A horse barn and arena setup that alone had to have cost a million dollars and an out-of-place, dilapidated carriage house on the back corner of the lot. There were no lights there, but I could tell the wood siding was falling off and one door hung halfway off its rusty hinges.

I sensed the vampire’s aura in that direction.

Are the hidden people heading there? I pointed at the old carriage house.

No. They’re lurking behind what I perceive is a children’s playhouse there beside the patio.

The playhouse was bigger than my apartment in Ballard.

And looking in this direction, Damas added. You may wish to activate your cloaking charm.

The security guard walked into view, shining his flashlight around the side and back of the property.

I don’t suppose you’d like to lead everyone away? I didn’t want to see the guard get jumped by the vampire or the mystery pack of magical people.

That didn’t go well with the dragon.

He’s not here. The vampire is the most dangerous thing we should encounter tonight.

Very well, but if something flies out of the sky and tries to light me on fire again, I’ll have cross words to share with you.

Thank you, Damas.

Before heading off, Damas paused, his tail swishing as he looked at Diavan. He had shifted closer and had a hand out toward the tiger’s back.

“Uhm, can I pet him now?”

Pet him? Damas asked. What is petting? A thing you do to a pet, yes? Should I be insulted?

No. Out loud, I said, “You forgot to point out how regal he is.”

“He’s magnificent,” Diavan breathed.

He just wants to feel your fur. Maybe it’ll give him good luck.

If a tiger could sigh, Damas did. Very well. I shall permit it.

“Go ahead,” I said.

Diavan slid his hand down Damas’s back several times with appreciative enthusiasm. “He’s so soft.”

“But regal, don’t forget.” I checked on the vampire. My senses told me he hadn’t moved.

“Regal and soft and magnificent.” There was no sarcasm in Diavan’s voice. Damas had a new admirer.

His tail swished, and he let out a few chuffs.

“What does that noise mean?” Diavan asked.

“Tigers can’t purr, but it means he’s pleased.”

This man has good hands.

Of course. He makes that yard art.

You should claim him for a mate.

He’s a little young for me. Maybe I’ll try to set him up with Min.

Damas crouched and faced the playhouse. I should go before the security officer stumbles across them and gets himself killed.

Good idea.

Damas sprang over the fence and roared. He sailed around the back yard, running right past the playhouse. Unfortunately, my nose wasn’t as good as his, so I couldn’t tell if the stealthed group moved. The security guard issued a high-pitched shriek and ran back toward the front of the house.

As Damas raced around the big yard again, automatic sprinkler heads popped up.

“Uh oh,” I muttered.

They came on with a hiss and water sprayed everywhere, including at Damas. His roar turned into the tiger equivalent of a curse, and he sprang over the far fence and into the next yard to escape.

The stealthed strangers are chasing me, Damas informed me. And I shall ruthlessly chew off your arm later for that trick.

I didn’t know about the sprinklers.

Lies.

I promise. Thank you for leading them away. Keep them busy for twenty minutes if you can, and then come by to see if I need to be rescued from the vampire.

May I slay them if they pester me overmuch?

Not unless they’ve slain innocent humans and are on one of the lists that came out of Willard’s office.

I’m chewing someone’s arm off tonight. I’m soaked.

How is this different from when you jumped in the river to bathe? I jogged to the wooden rail fence, hopped over, and ran to the carriage house.