Chasing the Dragon

PROLOGUE

SALEM MASSACHUSETTS

MONDAY MARCH 17TH, 2014

Gillian Prince skirted past the white tombstones sunken at jaunty angles in the graveyard. Shivering, she zipped her parka up to her chin, and not just because of the cold. Thanks to her studies of Salem, she knew the fate of every soul buried in Howard Street Cemetery. Though she didn’t see any ghosts drifting along the landscape, she sensed their presence, and as the headwinds moaned in her ears, she imagined the dead echoing her best friend Sarah’s sentiments: This outing was a fool’s errand.

Gillian was headed to meet with Abigail Stone’s protector and admirer, Sebastian Williams. In his written summons, he didn’t explain why he wished to meet up, merely that they couldn’t gather in Adehya for lack of anonymity. Sarah found it strange the two of them would agree to meet at all, let alone for a secret purpose and in another dimension. Gillian despised Sebastian. He’d never offered her a single pleasantry in passing. Now the two of them were going out of their way to hold a conversation. To Sarah it seemed Sebastian was toying with Gillian for a laugh. Gillian feared Sarah was right.

Weeks had passed since Sebastian had approached Gillian in Salem to request her help with an important mission he had yet to reveal to her. He’d since limited their correspondences to exchanging personal messages through a single post office box in Salem, ordered her never to speak of their arrangement to anyone, and forbidden her to address him in person for any reason.

So far Gillian had defied him twice. She’d confessed their understanding to Sarah and later winked at him after answering his written request to meet up tonight. (The look he gave for that!) Yet despite her own reservations, Gillian wouldn’t refuse his call. Sebastian was South America’s future king and heir to the emperor’s throne, and he’d petitioned her, a lowly commoner, for help.

Besides, Gillian didn’t really despise Sebastian. She merely hated his foul mouth and habit of entertaining half-naked women in his chambers at all hours of the day and night. As a Wiccan royal, Sebastian could amuse himself in countless ways, but if he lost his virginity to anyone other than his intended, the gods would pummel him with misfortune. Not even Sebastian would gamble his future for a night of passion if, by some miracle, Abigail Stone might realize his worth and become his bride.

So if Sebastian were toying with Gillian, she could rest easy in knowing he wasn’t out to steal her virtue, her most valuable asset, second only to her wit, which she didn’t think he was interested in either. No, this meeting was a solid investment. It was important to him; right now, so was she. Oh, the thrill in that!

Gillian livened her pace. Her destination, the Bit Bar, sat at the edge of town, and she had quite a way to go. Sebastian had instructed her to cut through the cemetery to avoid the king’s undercover guards, who had been patrolling the streets in search of Circe and Samuel since the Dragon King’s demise. This same route would have also reduced her travel time, were it not for her black pumps sinking into to the muddy earth and the headwinds blasting her back two steps for every third stride she treaded. At this rate, she would be late for her meeting with Sebastian. She would also miss last call and another chance to show off her flawless fake ID. So much for that drink he’d promised her. If the tone in his latest message were any indication, she would need every drop.

Then, up ahead, the full moon cast an ethereal glow upon a withered oak tree. There, a tall figure came into view.

“Quarter past eleven, on the dot,” the figure announced, pressing off the trunk and stepping into her path.

“Sebastian!” she gasped, clutching her chest. “I thought you were a ghost.”

He snickered.

“What are you doing here? Your letter said to meet you at the Bit Bar.”

His black eyes flashed at her in suspicion. “That was a decoy destination in case you couldn’t hold your tongue. Was I right? Did you blab?”

His probing set her cheeks ablaze. Okay, so she’d come by the title of Town Crier honestly, and he’d rightly anticipated her loose lips. To her credit, she’d only divulged their meeting to Sarah, otherwise she would have burst from anticipation. Besides, Sarah was a secret keeper, when threatened with a hex that would roll her tongue like a ball of yarn if she dared betray Gillian’s confidence. Sebastian could rest easy; word of tonight’s rendezvous would not leave Sarah’s lips.

“No matter,” he said. “This setting will suit us better.”

“Why?” Her gaze drifted from the gnarled oak trees rising from the earth like Grim Reapers, to the spacious graves that could easily house an extra body. Noting the absence of a single living witness, she backed slowly away from Sebastian. She hadn’t thought of this angle: “Are you planning to murder me and bury the evidence, all in one convenient location?”

He smirked. “Tempting, but no.” Slow and measured, he slinked toward her.

She stopped in her tracks.

God, he was gorgeous. Unkempt, yes—with his half-past-five-o’clock shadow, shoulder-length dirty blond hair, and half-buttoned, untucked flannel layered over ripped jeans—but his sex appeal was off the charts. The hypnotic way his tan pecs flexed and relaxed as he closed the gap between them resonated with her in places her freewheeling mother hadn’t thought to warn her about. In Gillian’s opinion, Sebastian wasn’t your everyday royal; he existed entirely on his own astral plane. Not even a master astral traveler could touch him.

Her breath caught as he bowed over her tiny frame and she raised her head to meet his gaze. He was much taller than she remembered, oozing confidence in a way that made her head whirl and her knees buckle. Then again, she couldn’t recall having ever stood this close to him before. Close enough to see his pulse throbbing in his neck. Close enough to feel the warmth of his breath spiral over her face. Close enough to jump him—if he so desired.

He grinned like a sadistic pig, a clear hallmark of his delight. She was putty in his hands, ripe for the taking. He knew this. For once, Gillian welcomed her vulnerability. Heck, she would draw him a map of the innermost workings of her being if she thought it would help him achieve his desires.

When he next spoke, something sinister in his air captured her attention.

“The king has eyes and ears everywhere,” he said, “and I know how to elude them all. This graveyard is the only place in Salem our kind won’t touch, as they consider it sacred ground. We won’t be bothered here, at least not by the living. Besides, I wouldn’t be caught dead at the Bit Bar.”

Gillian frowned. “So, no drink?”

“Yes, yes, drinks all around.” With a flourish of his hand, he conjured a full bar stocked with spirits—the kind that didn’t haunt the living—and two glasses. Then he plucked a bottle of whisky from the glass shelving and poured himself a shot.

“Don’t you find it ironic how you wouldn’t be caught dead at the Bit Bar, yet you have no qualms about drinking among the dead?” Gillian questioned.

“I don’t hear them complaining.”

“You’re sick.”

Sebastian smirked as he raised his glass. “A toast to the dearly departed, namely Mister Giles Corey.” He gulped down the drink and turned toward the bar to prepare another. “Did you know old Miles was pressed to death for refusing to plead guilty for practicing witchcraft, despite that he was innocent?”

Gillian nodded, her mouth drying out. Boy, she could really use that drink, as she knew precisely where Sebastian’s little tale was headed.

“The Historical Society has erected a memorial plaque for the old chap at the Charter Street Cemetery, despite that his eternal resting place lies here, beneath our feet. Can you sense his energy?”

Yes, she could—and the cold, eerie clap of his painful death. She shivered as a red hatchback zipped past them with its high beams ablaze, as if to call them out for imbibing atop a tortured man’s grave.

That wasn’t all that troubled her.

“You told me not to perform a shred of magic tonight, aside from using my Enchanted Key to reach you. Meanwhile, you’ve just conjured a full bar, in the middle of a cemetery, atop the final resting place of a man who was executed over a town’s hysteria. I didn’t even cast an All-Weather Enchantment on my clothing for fear the guilt would eat me alive. It’s eighteen degrees out. I nearly froze to death in my travels here.”

Sebastian pivoted slowly to face her. In his hand, he swirled a glass of cranberry vodka on the rocks. Her favorite drink. One that instantly earned him her forgiveness. The sly dog didn’t miss a trick.

“But you’re not freezing now,” he said.

Too right. If anything, she was uncomfortably warm bundled up like a sausage in a down-filled hide, while he wasn’t wearing a coat at all.

“Protectorate Spell, partnered with a Warming Charm,” he said. “You and I are invisible to the outside world, and it’s a balmy seventy-five degrees where we stand. I’m surprised you didn’t sense it on your approach. You are an Empath, after all.”

An understandable oversight due to their cringeworthy setting and his sublime hotness.

“Are you sure no one can see us?” She glanced nervously over her shoulder. “Not even the king’s guards?”

Sebastian conjured a bistro set and motioned for her to take a seat. “Not unless we leave the circle.” He set her drink upon the table. “The spell I cast extends about fifty feet from the trunk of the great oak you spotted me leaning against on your arrival. Stick to my boundaries and you’ll be fine.”

Nodding, Gillian shrugged out of her coat to unveil her strapless black mini dress. Had she known she would be partying among rotting corpses, she would have worn a hazmat suit.

“Dazzling,” Sebastian murmured. His focus lingered on her bust, the top of which heaved over the fitted neckline of her dress.

Gillian primped her wavy chocolate tresses with her palm. “You told me to dress like contemporary party girl. So, here I am.”

“Here you are.” Retrieving his drink from the bar and sipping the contents, he let his gaze wander to the sharp curve of her waist (the mark of a stubborn corset), to her short but shapely legs, and then to her pumps, which were caked in mud to the point their velvety black color was lost. He frowned at the imperfection. “I should have warned you of the bog.” With a sweep of his hand, he banished the filth, then once again motioned for Gillian to sit. “Beauty before age.”

With his complement she fell into the chair, reached for her beverage, and took a swill. “So…” she began before the contents had cleared her throat, triggering a hacking cough.

Sebastian snickered as he eased into the chair across from her.

“Sorry.” Blushing furiously, she stole another sip of her drink. This time she waited to speak until the cool burn settled into her stomach, flooding her body with warmth and soothing her nerves. “Why did you suggest we meet undercover like this?”

Sebastian polished off his whisky and set the glass on the table.

A long pause ensued.

Oh boy, Gillian thought, he’s about to reveal our mission. This is going to be big. Epic big. Off the hook Drake ‘the Dragon King’ big! She wiped away the drool seeping from her lips.

Leaning in, he answered, “I want you to keep an eye on Abigail for me. Apprise me of her daily activities outside of her tutoring lessons with me. I want to know where she goes and whom she sees—that sort of thing. If she catches me following her at every turn, she’ll grow suspicious. We aren’t exactly friends, you see. You, on the other hand, apart from being one of her dearest chums, are always on the prowl, poised to capture the latest gossip. If she happens to spot you lurking about, she won’t think anything of it.”

Gillian could practically hear the air escaping from her balloon of anticipation. Her face soured. “This is the secret mission you peddled to me weeks ago? The one you refused to reveal until I unloaded all sorts of personal information about myself so that you could decide if I was trustworthy or not?”

He nodded.

“I’m out of here.” Slamming her cocktail on the table, she ejected from her seat and snapped up her coat.

Sebastian shot up beside her, seizing her by the wrist. “Hear me out.”

“Don’t you get it?” She wrenched out of his grip. “Abigail doesn’t want you! She’s betrothed to Nikolas, the two of them are madly in love, and nothing you do will change that. Deal with it!”

“Please stay.” He formed a steeple with his hands and pressed the peak to his lips.

Swoon!

“My need has nothing to do with my feelings for her,” he said. “Would you hear me out? Please?”

Gillian heaved a sigh. “I’m listening.”

“Abigail visited Drake’s rooms last night.”

“Excuse me?”

“Mind you, she didn’t go in. She merely stood outside the entrance, but I believe it’s only a matter of time before she crosses the threshold.”

“How exactly do you know this?”

He arched his right brow. “I would tell you, but then I would have to kill you.”

“Very funny. Who else knows?”

“As of now, no one but you, me, the knights guarding the gates at Fire Manor Palace…and Drake.”

How dare Sebastian joke about the beast that had murdered an innocent boy in his rise to power and would have axed her and the rest of her friends, too, had Abigail not snuffed him out in time. Drake was dead, yes, but the memory of his short and terrifying reign would haunt Gillian and her friends forever. Anyone with half a brain knew this. Wise as Sebastian was, he had no shame. Gillian didn’t expect him to suffer an attack of morality anytime soon, but if she wanted answers, she would have to play his game to get them.

And she would get them.

Calmly, she inquired, “How did Abigail reach Drake’s rooms without alerting the king’s guards, not to mention the Council? Fire Manor Palace can probably be viewed from space with all the enchantments the emperor has cast to monitor it.”

“Apparently, she bribed the guards to conceal her.”

Gillian glanced up the moon as it ducked behind a patch of clouds, out of sight. She likened the movement as the answer to the question that evaded her: “After everything Abigail went through to escape that monster, why would she do such a thing?”

“Closure?”

Gillian snorted. “Drake’s dead and buried. How much more closure could she need than that?”

“Clearly more than anyone realizes.”

An uncomfortable silence brewed between them as Gillian contemplated exactly what that closure might entail. The possibilities were endless, and none of them were any good.

“Nikolas will hit the roof when he hears about this.”

As she moved to leave, Sebastian stepped in front of her.

“Let’s not involve him. Not yet anyway.”

She blinked. “Nikolas is Abigail’s fiancé and secondary protector. He has a right to know she’s playing with fire. Literally.”

“But I am Abigail’s primary protector. I say if we back her into a corner, she’ll run straight into whatever trap Drake has lain out for her. He might be dead, but his spells live on, and if they escape his rooms, they could pose a threat to us all.”

Gillian retrieved her cocktail from the table, pausing to review the contents before gulping them down. “All right,” she said, banishing the empty glass with a snap of her fingers. “Mum’s the word. I’ll help you, but if things get sticky, I’m telling Nikolas.”

“Sticky?” Sebastian waggled his brows. “I like things sticky…and sweet.”

She grimaced.

“I’m kidding.” He reached for her hand and pressed it to his lips, holding her in check. “Do we have an accord?”

“Y-yeah,” she said, struggling to keep upright. Her whole body was trembling. His touch was like an electric shock on steroids. How was it that Abigail could resist him, and with such disdain?

“Perfect.” He smiled and released Gillian’s hand. “Going forward, we will meet up in Adehya. I will find us a secure location. Also going forward, we should exchange our messages through our personal letterboxes in Adehya, but only to arrange our meetings, where we will discuss any pertinent information you have on Abigail for me. We must never put the details of our mission in writing. Finally—and this is very important—do not message me until I confirm that I have secured my letterbox from prying eyes. Agreed?”

She nodded and lowered her lashes. “What about our public interactions? You treat me like an alien lifeform if I so much as wink at you. I know we can’t be seen galivanting around the kingdom together, but—”

“I promise to show you a greater kindness in future.”

She bit her lip to hide her delight.

“Shall we return to Adehya together then?” With a clap-clap of his hands, he banished their amenities and bowed his arm for her to take.

Gillian stared him down. “You want us to march through the main portal, into Adehya. Together. Won’t that blow our cover?”

Sebastian tweaked the underside of her chin, chuckling as she moaned with pleasure.

“Why trek all the way to the main portal when we can instantly reach your bedroom in Adehya with your Gateway Enchantment?”

“That makes sense. I guess...”

He raised his hands in surrender. “My intentions are honorable, I swear. I merely wish to return to Adehya as soon as possible. Once we reach your bedroom, I’ll use a Transport Spell to return to my chambers. No one will be the wiser.”

She nodded, but something in the way he’d delivered his last words triggered a sinking feeling in her gut. Add that to the Cheshire grin that stretched across his face as she dutifully retrieved the Enchanted Key from her coat pocket, and she really began to question his motives. Still, she didn’t dare question a warlock who outranked her by a mile, particularly one who could make her life a living hell if she refused him.

Enchanted Key in hand, she pierced the empty space before them. Then, slowly turning the metal instrument clockwise, she conjured the portal that would take them home.