Ironspell : That Dragon Was in No Way My Fault Read online

  The image switched to a man with long blond hair, obviously not regulation, wearing a Denver uniform that looked gold because of some magic spell. He also wore a non-regulation cape. The caption underneath read Lieutenant Frank Winter, DWTF.

  “It was a tough battle, but I and my team took care of the rogue wizard and the dragon. The dragon is safely back in his pen where he belongs…”

  I stared aghast. “What the fuck? You’re taking my credit?” I sat back in shock. “I was the one who tamed the dragon. Smog ate the sorcerer.” I was yelling at the screen.

  The nurse came in looking harried. “Good, you’re awake. Let me get the IV out of you and these electrodes off and you can take care of your dragon.”

  “My dragon?” I repeated. “Smog is here? But they said on TV…” I waved a hand, only to get a look from the nurse.

  “Welcome to how DWTF covers magic situations. Don’t worry. Your dragon is fine and is out in the parking lot. He wouldn’t let anyone touch you until my sister, Luna, convinced him they would tend to your injuries.” Jimmy stood in the doorway with a lovely woman with blonde hair.

  “Luna?” I repeated.

  Luna smiled and the room felt brighter instantly. She was gorgeous, petite, and athletic. “Hi, you have a great dragon.”

  I winced. “Well, he’s not my dragon.”

  “Could’ve fooled me.” Jimmy said.

  The nurse finished removing the electrodes and IV. “I’ll get your release paperwork. The dragon is scaring the patients.”

  “Is George Talon in this hospital?” I asked.

  Luna shook her head. “He’s in pretty serious condition, but stabilized. They’ve transferred him to the burn unit over in Swedish Medical Center. They said you did a good job with his burns.”

  I nodded. “What about the other officer?”

  “Some broken bones but otherwise okay. He’ll be out of the hospital in a day or two.”

  “And Smog is here?”

  “He’s outside,” Luna said. “He’s worried sick about you. I told him I’d give him a report once I saw you, but since they’re releasing you, you can do that yourself.”

  ~ * ~

  After the hospital released me, I walked out to the parking lot in my torn and scuffed uniform to see the red-gold dragon asleep on a Prius and a couple of Lexus. His tail was twitching like a cat’s as he dreamed and smoke wafted up from his nostrils in two gray columns.

  No sooner had I gotten within twenty yards did he open his eyes and raise his head. He grinned a big toothy grin and little jets of flame issued from his nostrils. You’re okay! He wagged his tail and took out two Mercedes with one swipe.

  “Yeah, just a little banged up.” I pointed to my ribs. “Are you okay?”

  Dragons heal fast. Smog looked immensely please and crawled down off his perch to nuzzle me. The steel under him groaned and buckled. I winced.

  “You didn’t have to worry so much,” I said.

  Humans are fragile. Smog sniffed my ribs. You could’ve died.

  “But I’m okay.” I looked at him earnestly. “I like you a lot, Smog, but shouldn’t the taming spell have weakened?”

  It’s gone, but I like you. Smog said. You and the pretty lady are the first people who treat me like a feeling creature and not just something to look at.

  I nodded. “But the Zoo owns you, not me.”

  “I don’t think the Zoo is allowed to own a sentient being,” Luna said, catching the drift of our conversation from my half.

  Pretty lady is right. I am not owned. I agreed to stay for food and lodging in exchange for entertaining humans. Smog nodded.

  “You’re under contract with the zoo?”

  “Lots of sentient Supernaturals get contracts with zoos. Beats getting hunted by poachers looking to use their blood, scales, and horns for medicines,” Jimmy said. “That’s why a lot of lycanthropes sign up for zoo duty.”

  I stroked Smog’s nose. “The guy, Frank Winter of DWTF, said they had you back in a cage.”

  Smog’s body shook and he made a noise that sounded like the cross between a cat coughing up a hairball and a rockslide. Flames shot from his nostrils and I barely got my hands out of the way before he charcoal-broiled them. It took me a moment to realize he was laughing.

  Frank Winter ran away from me. Smog hiccupped with laugher. You should’ve see the DWTF guys piss their pants when the werewolves showed up too. It was totally worth it.

  “Is he telling you what cowards the DWTF guys are?” Luna asked. “They didn’t even know that the Denver Wolfpack supplies weres for the Lycanthrope House. So, when we came out, they were about ready to shoot until Jimmy turned back into his human form and explained the situation. Then they were slapping each other on the back and congratulating themselves—until Smog brought you and the two other officers to get medical attention.”

  “They’re not going to blame Smog for Talon’s injuries?”

  Jimmy shook his head. “We told them the sorcerer torched your partner.”

  “Talon won’t remember it that way.”

  “I don’t know, that traumatic of an injury may just muddy his memory a bit,” Luna said. She smiled at me. “Hey, what are you doing tonight?”

  I blinked. “I checked my schedule. I’m on leave for the next couple of days.”

  “Awesome! Come on down to the pack’s bar, if you’re up to it.” Jimmy grinned. “You’re already a hero there.”

  “I’ll need a ride out of this place.”

  I’ll take you, Smog said.

  I looked at the dragon, hesitating. I thought about how brutal the ride would be, especially with broken ribs. “Won’t they notice you downtown?”

  Smog gave a fearsome grin. “Who’s going to stop us?”

  Good point. “Okay, but let’s find some cushions before we go.”

  The End

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  ALCHEMIST RULES

  MH BONHAM

  Chapter One

  Supernaturals tend to go crazy on Mondays, and today was no exception. My partner, Officer Jim Douglas, just pulled our car into a typical Denver strip mall off Broadway and Evans and the fairies were out in force today. The little creatures were buzzing like mad hornets all along the sidewalks, causing what supernatural mayhem packs of six-inch-tall little people can do.

  Normally, we wouldn’t even bother to be here, but it was 10 p.m., which meant a visit to the local doughnut shop before they closed up. Yeah, laugh all you want, my partner is a stereotypical cop right down to the doughnuts. He had to have his sugar buzz, which meant fat bombs. It also meant I had to put up with his attitude since he was my fifth partner in four weeks. Right now, it was looking like he’d last the fifth week.

  Even though it was a pleasant night for early April, the air was thick with smog and I decided to keep the windows up in the patrol car and avoid getting lung cancer. I’d run the air conditioner too, but it wasn’t that warm.

  Instead, I picked up my book, Alchemy Magic for Beginners and leafed through the first pages until I found where I had put the book down last. The store front was so lit up, I could read the pages without the map light.

  “Hey Cabbage,” Douglas jeered when he slammed the door, and swatted a Peter Pan looking creature away from his pocket protector. “Should I get you some doughnuts with sprinkles on them?”

  “Ouch!” the fairy squeaked, flitting away.

  I glared at Douglas. “It
’s Bob. Bob Ironspell-Cabas.”

  “Yeah, whatever, Cabbage.”

  “Keep eating those doughnuts and they’ll be changing your name from Officer Jimmy Douglas to Officer Jimmy Dean in no time.” I added pig noises for dramatic effect.

  Douglas, in his incredibly professional manner, flipped me off as he entered the doughnut shop. I thought about trying the new hex spell I read about in Alchemy Magic for Beginners, but instead flipped open my magazine of Alchemy Magic Today. Yeah, what can I say? The radio crackled as I perused the new spell of changing water into ice as a party trick.

  “DPDS Car 51.”

  I picked up the mic. “This is DPDS Car 51. Ironspell here.”

  “Ironspell? You still in the vicinity of Washington Park?”

  “Affirmative,” I said, trying to sound official.

  “We got a supernatural disturbance in Washington Park. Do you copy?”

  “Roger that. We’ll investigate.” I sighed and looked over at Douglas who was still at the counter trying to decide what fat bombs to buy. I tossed the magazine in the glove compartment and got out of our police cruiser. I then warded it locked. Specially made for those in the Denver Police Department Supernatural Unit, or DPDS, the car originally had been a Dodge Charger. The wards glowed and screamed to anyone with half a brain to not even think about opening it.

  I ducked to avoid two fairies that nearly collided with me. Obviously lit from a sugar high. Both wore green Peter Pan type outfits—the latest rage among the current Supernatural little folk—and both were tugging on what was left of a frosted doughnut.

  “Gimme that!” One shouted in a sharp little voice which promised to piece my eardrums.

  “Mine! Mine! Mine!” The other shouted with a voice that could put nails on a chalkboard to shame. They tugged at the doughnut jerking back and forth while their wings were beating blindingly fast.

  Some cops would’ve arrested them for disorderly conduct, but I couldn’t see being the big bully here. They weren’t driving, and they weren’t hurting anyone, no matter how annoying they might be. Once they sobered up, they’d be hit with the mother of all hangovers. Unless they started punching each other, it was just a typical night in fairyland. I walked into the doughnut shop, blindingly lit up to screw with my night vision. Douglas stood at the counter as the kid was ringing up the doughnuts.

  “Can you do something about the bugs?” the kid waved at the fairies outside.

  “Why, are they bothering you?” I asked.

  “Yeah, they steal from the trash.”

  “Maybe we’ll swat them,” Douglas said, pulling out his card to pay.

  “We got other problems,” I said. “Dispatch came on.”

  “Well fuck.” Douglas picked up the bag of doughnuts and a coffee. I noted he didn’t bother to get me a coffee.

  “Coffee?” I asked.

  “What?” Douglas snapped, as we walked out the door.

  “You owe me like…twenty cups,” I said, not bothering to hide my irritation as he walked to the driver’s side.

  “Put it on my bill.” He shoved the bag of doughnuts into my hands and put the key in the door lock. It gave him a good zap. “Jesus fucking Christ, Cabbage! Do you have to do that? Most people settle on door locks, you know.”

  “Oops,” I said, not feeling sorry. “You know it’s standard procedure.” I touched the car and the wards flashed, effectively neutralized. “Go ahead now.”

  Douglas unlocked the car and climbed into the driver’s side. He reached for the doughnut bag, but I skittered out of reach. “Hey!” he said.

  “Put it on my bill,” I said and whistled. “Hey guys! Want some doughnuts?” I shouted to the fairies.

  Like moths to a flame, the little miscreants came out of hiding. Given how busy the intersection of Broadway and Evans was, I couldn’t believe how many appeared out of nowhere. Soon, I was surrounded by a swarm of hungry, buzzing fairies.

  “Hey guys!” I shouted over the noise. “Quit harassing the customers around here, and I’ll give you free doughnuts on Mondays, okay?” I tossed the bag in the air. It never hit the ground.

  One of the fairies flitted in front of my nose. “Is that a promise?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I’ll bring you some doughnuts.”

  “Hurrah!”

  “Deal?” I asked.

  “Deal!” They all shouted in their diminutive voices. They whirled around in the air, clinging to the doughnut bag like an angry bee swarm and disappeared into the night.

  I got into the car. Douglas was on the radio. “10-4, we’ll be right there.” He glared at me. “You owe me for those doughnuts, Cabbage.”

  “You owe me for the coffee. Consider that paid up.”

  He shot me a look and started the car. Tonight was going to be fun, I could just tell.

  Chapter Two

  Washington Park looked like a war zone. As part of the University District of Denver, Colorado, it had just enough trees and ponds to make it pleasant for Normals to go jogging or walking their dog. Before the Supernaturals came out of hiding, you had your regular drug traffickers and occasional criminals. You didn’t hang out there at night, even with the street and pathway lights. Now, with the Supernaturals, people were careful in the daytime and avoided it altogether at night. More than once, I’ve seen selkies and water horses in Grasmere Lake hunting the ducks, and the occasional roving bands of Orcs, but they seldom did more than scare the locals. And then, of course, the fairies were an ever present nuisance. Many Normals avoided the park now, but those few brave souls were often rewarded with a mostly unmolested experience.

  Now, from what I could see under the few lights standing and the gibbous moon rising, the graded paths around Grasmere Lake had giant holes torn in them. Something had uprooted the trees as though shells exploded there. Whatever it was ripped out the bridges along the City Ditch, the old irrigation canals people used to use to bring water in for their crops.

  I looked over the devastation and felt the itch of dark magic in the area. Douglas got on the radio and called for backup but I wasn’t sure what they could do other than piss off whatever it was out there. I closed my eyes and stretched my senses to see if I could figure out what caused it.

  Despite the name, Ironspell-Cabas, I’m not a wizard or a mage. At least not yet. My mom told me long ago that my father’s clan, the Ironspells, were a powerful wizarding family that fell on hard times. My mom claims she’s only a hedge witch with enough power to read Tarot cards or maybe make a third class love potion. Me? I’m just a cop with some magic sense and an ability to do basic spells; no more powerful than simple ward runes and maybe a hex or two. Hell, even Normals could probably conjure up the spells I can do, if they practiced. That’s why I applied to the Alchemy department at the University, so I could join the Denver Police elite Wizard Task Force. Once I got my license, I could ditch Jimmy Dean here.

  Right now, I was at best a cop with just a few spells and a feel for magic. But one thing I did have was the uncanny ability to sense trouble—and somehow get into it head first.

  “C’mon Cabbage, quit snoozing and let’s take a look around.” Douglas got out of the car. I tried to ignore him as my magical senses stretched across the park. I had learned long ago you didn’t want to go blazing in with guns drawn on something magical, until you knew what that something was. I tried to get a good sense of what exactly was making my black magic gauge peg the meter. “Cabbage?”

  “Hang on, this is serious,” I said, still keeping my eyes closed. God, it was hard to concentrate with a buffoon of an officer breathing down your neck. My partner moved off a few paces, giving me the physical—and mental—space I needed to concentrate. I then felt what they were.

  Shit.

  “Troll, Douglas!” I opened the door and tumbled out of the car, still unsteady from the magic. Looking ahead, I could see Douglas twenty yards away with his hand on his weapon—still undrawn—walking right toward the ambush. His flashlight was on. “Jim!
It’s a troll!”

  If Jim heard me, he didn’t react. He kept walking. “Jim!” I shouted, but my voice was dampened as if a thick blanket got dropped over us. Oh hell, this was serious. Somebody actually set up a dampening spell. I was about to draw my Glock 9mm, when I decided that what I really needed was the Remington 870 shotgun. I dove back in the car and unlocked the shotgun, chambered a round, and ran after Douglas into the darkness.

  I hadn’t gotten ten paces when I heard the troll roar and Douglas screaming. Then, a rapid succession of shots as my partner emptied the magazine. As I predicted, shooting it would just make it mad. I saw nothing but darkness, so I cast a quick mage light orb and tossed it toward the thing that blotted out the stars.

  I wish I hadn’t.

  Above me, some fifty yards away stood a troll—and a big one. If trolls had ugly contests, this one would’ve swept up all the awards. Its long, tangled hair and beard, glowing red eyes, and sharp tusks that protruded out of its lips made for a ghastly ensemble. It wore some kind hairy skins that hung in tatters off of its humongous frame. Apparently it bought its clothes off the rack. I guessed it was maybe fifteen feet tall, give or take a few feet. It held my partner in its clawed fingers. Douglas’s head lolled to one side as the creature shook him.

  I couldn’t think what to do at this point. Most weapons are useless against trolls—first year DPDS training taught us to call in a magic user rather than to try to take one down—but they never mentioned what you needed to do if the troll had your partner in its paw. Okay, Douglas was an asshole partner who didn’t follow procedure, but I didn’t think he deserved to be on the troll’s dinner menu. Trolls were impervious to some magic spells, making them a challenge even for wizards. Magic shields and fireballs are pretty useless on them. The shotgun might work at a close enough range, but with Douglas flapping about in its mitts, I was damned if I was going to shoot my partner accidentally.

  I keyed the mic on my personal radio and found it dead. Damn, whoever cast that dampening spell made sure it’d take out the electronics. So, I did the only thing I could do.