Smoke

By Val St. Crowe

When Naelen Spencer shows up at Clarke Gannon’s apartment saying he wants to hire her to hunt his sister down, she’s got zilch inclination to actually take that job.

For one thing, she’s not actually looking for an employer. For another thing, Naelen is the kind of rich, entitled playboy that she hates. For a third thing, he’s a dragon shifter, and she’s a dragon slayer. Those things don’t mix.

Sure, okay, she doesn’t kill shifters, only soulless, monster dragons that do nothing but burn, kill, and destroy.

And fine, he does happen to have eyes like the sky in high summer and a deep voice that makes her feel warm all over.

And all right, she needs the money he’s offering. She could use it to help her sister, who’s never caught a break her entire life.

But screw that guy.

That’s what she wants to say, anyway. Instead, she ends up taking him up on his offer, and then she’s flying off in a private jet to get mixed up with a creepy country town, a nest of powerful vampires, and a bunch of potent magical objects.

For fans of Laurell K Hamilton, Patricia Briggs, Jennifer Estep, Charlaine Harris, Ilona Andrews, Annie Bellet, and Pippa DaCosta

• Language: English
• Publisher: V. J. Chambers
• Release date: Jul 6, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370326228

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

I came home to find Naelen Spencer standing on my front doorstep, knocking on the door of my apartment. I didn’t know Naelen Spencer personally or anything, but I did recognize him from pictures in the news. He was always making headlines, buying up something-or-other, making mergers left and right. Guy was a dragon-shifter mogul, a billionaire.

What the hell was he doing outside my crappy apartment?

I marched up behind him and cleared my throat. Excuse me?

He turned, looking me up and down. Yes? He was wearing a suit—gray pinstripe with a burgundy tie. And he was much more attractive in person than he was in the photos on the news, and that was saying something, because I’d always thought he was something of a looker to begin with. But up close, his eyes were incredibly blue. Like the sky in high summer, like blue topaz, and they were multi-faceted too. Iridescent. Eyes a girl could get lost in.

I swallowed. That’s my apartment.

He took a step back. You’re Clarke Gannon?

That’s me, I said.

A big smile broke out across his face, which only made him even dreamier. Great. I was beginning to worry that I’d have to come back later. I’m so glad you came home.

He was?

I folded my arms over my chest. Why?

I need your help, he said. I need to hire you.

I’m not looking for an employer, actually. I glared at him. I wasn’t exactly sure why I was pissed off at him, but it had something to do with how freaking blue his eyes were and something to do with how much they were affecting me.

Of course not, he said. You work for yourself normally. An independent contractor. You’re a dragon slayer.

Want to say that louder? I’m not sure everyone in the building heard you.

He looked confused. Pardon?

You do realize it’s illegal to be a dragon slayer. I pushed past him, fitted my key into the lock of my apartment door and slid inside. Now on the other side of the door, I felt safer. There was something between us. Something I could slam if I got the notion.

Uh… He chuckled, looking down at his feet. Yes, I suppose I might have heard that somewhere. He offered me a sheepish grin. I’m making a bit of a mess of this, aren’t I? I’m sorry. It’s a problem I have. People are always telling me that I’m hell at explaining myself. I get an idea and I’m so excited to run with it, I have trouble explaining the details to others. Maybe I could start over?

I just regarded him coolly, one hand on the doorknob in case I did feel like slamming it in his face.

My name is Naelen Spencer.

I know who you are, I said.

You do? He looked confused. Have we met?

No, but I’ve seen your face plastered all over CNBC, I said.

Ah, he said. Right. Of course. He cleared his throat. Well, at any rate, I need to hire you.

You’re a dragon, I said. I kill dragons. I don’t see how this is going to work.

No, he said, raising a finger. You don’t. At least, not according to Penelope Caspian, who helped me track you down. At least, that is, you only kill a certain kind of dragon. And I’m not that kind.

My nostrils flared. Penny needs to keep her mouth shut. She was a local hotel owner whose path had crossed with mine several times in the past year or so. I wouldn’t go so far as to call us friends, but we were more than acquaintances.

Oh, I pestered her and pestered her, said Naelen. You really can’t blame her. I can be incredibly annoying when I want to be.

I pursed my lips.

Oh. He cringed. Am I being annoying now? I don’t mean to be annoying. You have to work for me, and you can’t say no, so—

No, I said. I slammed the door in his face.

There. I squared my shoulders, took a deep breath, and started into my apartment. That was better. I was much better off without an insanely attractive, filthy rich dragon shifter in my face.

A knock on the door.

I ignored it, walking into my living room, which was a wreck. I really needed to clean in here, but I never got around to it. It didn’t help that my sister Gina crashed here sometimes, and she was an utter slob.

The door to my apartment opened.

Damn it, I hadn’t locked it?

Naelen walked in. I’m sorry, he said, shutting the door behind him, but I really can’t let you say no to me. He was still smiling, but there was an undercurrent of steel to his voice, something that hadn’t been there before.

I just did, I said. No.

Miss Gannon, you haven’t heard the job I need you to do.

I shrugged. Don’t care. I don’t work for anyone, but especially not snobby little rich boys like you.

His eyebrows shot up.

I lifted my chin. Yeah, I’d insulted him. Wow, I hadn’t realized how broad his shoulders were. Those were… broad shoulders.

He advanced on me. If you’ll simply allow me to finish my proposal before you dismiss it out of hand?

Oh, he was getting close now. I should back up. I should back up, because he was going to be right in my face. But backing up was weak. I stood my ground. Get out of my apartment.

He stopped. There were three inches between our bodies. His voice lowered. I came to you because I know that you are the slayer who is returning the bodies of dead rogue dragons to their families.

I clenched my hands in fists. Penny really needs to keep her mouth shut. I had recently learned that when a dragon shifter died, the typical thing was for the dragon to leave his or her remains to the family. The families of dragons used pieces of their ancestors to make magical talismans and to honor their ancestors by using their magic.

Thing was, dragons were the only magic thing in the world. Every piece of magic came from dragons some way or other.

Some slayers killed dragons for that reason. Lots of money to be made cutting up a dragon corpse. Vampires would pay for the blood. Drakes would pay for the flesh. Mages would pay for the scales and teeth.

I think what you’re doing is commendable, said Naelen. His get-lost-in eyes locked onto mine.

Suddenly, my palms started to sweat. I unclenched my hands. I don’t care what you think, I said, and my voice was just a little breathless.

Some slayers would kill any dragon they saw. If Naelen here were to shift into a dragon in front of them, they’d get out their bow and arrows and put one right through his skull.

But not me. I only killed rogue dragons.

They were soulless. For one reason or another, they didn’t have a human attached to their dragon form anymore, or—in some cases—they never had. They were just raging beasts. All they did was burn, kill, and destroy. They were monsters who had to be stopped. That was the only kind of dragon I killed.

When I recently found out that some of the rogues used to be shifters, I felt like I owed it to their families to return their bodies.

I used to sell them off and generally the only people who took them off my hands were going to cut them up. Always made me feel twitchy. But, hell, I needed the money.

These days, the only dragon corpses I sold off were ones who didn’t have families looking for them, ones who’d never been shifters.

It eased my conscience, but I had to admit that it didn’t line my wallet. And I’d never made a lot of money from this gig anyway, considering I’d never been much for trying to sell off the dragon parts.

It was true, though, that things were worse than they’d ever been. It was probably going to be a struggle to make rent this month. Maybe I could use a job.

I ripped my gaze away from his. All right, I’ll listen to what you have to say.

My sister is missing, he said. No one’s heard from her, and I’m worried that she’s turned into a rogue.

How do you even know about rogues? I said. Rogues were hardly common knowledge. Any time an attack happened, it got covered up real quick. Penny Caspian tell you about that too? She claimed she had proof that a corporation called Eaglelinx’s products were creating the rogues and they were covering up the side effects because they couldn’t let go of their profits. She was working to stop them.

I heard rumors, he said. But Penny confirmed them.

Well, then, I said, I still don’t see why you want me.

I think there’s got to be a cure, he said.

There’s not, I said. When a dragon becomes a rogue, their human body is destroyed. The human part of the dragon is gone.

We don’t know that, he said. It’s only a theory. I have resources, and I believe that with some study, I might be able to find the cure. And so I want you to help me find Reign and capture her.

Reign?

Reign is my sister.

Oh, I said. Naelen and Reign, huh? What had their parents been thinking? Look, I don’t capture rogues. I kill them.

I’ve had special tranquilizing arrows made especially for you, he said. We’ll hunt her down, and then you’ll shoot her with one of them and then I’ll take her back someplace safe and I will find that cure.

I sighed. Damn it, I couldn’t take this job. This wasn’t a job. This was some man on a mission that was never going to work out. If your sister is a rogue, then she’s gone. Completely gone. There’s no curing her. Holding her somewhere would only be dangerous. If you do this, she will escape, and she will kill people. Their blood will be on your hands.

That’s not your concern, he said. I will be responsible for keeping her from injuring anyone once she’s been captured. You don’t need to worry about that. He took another step toward me.

I did take a step back this time. He was too close. I collided with my coffee table, and several empty bottles of Corona toppled over with a clanking noise. I grimaced. I was actually embarrassed of this mess, even though he hadn’t seemed to notice.

He stepped closer.

And now I was trapped unless I wanted to climb onto the coffee table.

His voice went low and urgent. "This is very important to me, Miss Gannon. You’re the best. You have the right attitude and moral compass, and I need you. You will help me."

I shook my head slowly. I’m sorry, I said in a soft voice. I can’t be part of what you’re doing.

He licked his lips, his voice still quiet. I’ll be happy to pay you whatever you require. How much money do you pay to rent this place? He gestured around.

How is that your business?

Tell me what it is, and I’ll pay you twelve times the amount.

I choked.

That’s right, he said, his voice a rough whisper, one year without worrying about rent. How does that sound?

I didn’t like being so close to him. His eyes were boring into me, and his shoulders were so wide and… and strong, and his voice was almost… sensual. I wanted to reach out and push him away, but I was terrified of touching him. I didn’t know if I could handle that. I can’t help you, I managed.

Two years’ rent, he said in his urgent, scratchy voice.

No, I whispered. I couldn’t. A rogue kept alive? It was insane.

Tell me how much, he insisted.

I stepped sideways, evading his gaze, his body. I collided with my couch this time. It was covered in a ratty throw blanket. I sat down hard on it. You need to get out of my apartment.

You aren’t saying no to me, he said. You can’t say no to me. No one says no to me.

I got to my feet. I am. I’m saying no. I pointed at the door. Get out.

He cast his gaze heavenward, sucking in air through his nose. Then he focused on me again. All right, he said, taking a step back, his voice returning to normal. I’ve done something wrong. Tell me what it is, and I’ll fix it.

Rogues can’t be captured, I said.

Nonsense, he said. You can’t tell me that you’re seriously objecting to this based on some ideal. I promise you, she’ll be locked up quite tight until I find the cure.

That’s just it. I moved behind the coffee table. I liked having it between us. There’s no cure to find. You’ll simply be delaying the inevitable. Eventually, you’ll have to kill the rogue.

No, I won’t—

Exactly, I said. "You won’t. You’ll hang on and on and on. And eventually, the rogue will get loose, and people will die. That’s not what I do. I save people, Mr. Spencer, I don’t put them in danger."

You’re being melodramatic.

I’m very sorry, but the answer is no. And I think it’s time you left.

CHAPTER TWO

The usual, Clarke? said the bartender at Happy Harry’s Bar and Grill, the bar where I usually came to hang out. This place was a popular hangout for slayers in Sea City, which was a haven for magical creatures. We had a high per capita of vampires, drakes, dragons, and gargoyles.

Yeah, I said.

He slid me a bottle of Corona with a lime shoved in the top. I liked the lime, but it was tricky, because if I shoved it in the wrong way, sometimes the beer exploded with foam everywhere for some reason I couldn’t understand. So, carefully, I began pushing it down into the bottle.

The jukebox was playing Fantastic Voyage, by Coolio. Not my favorite, but I’d long ago learned not to feed the jukebox money. It only seemed to have a selection of songs from the 1990s, and most of it was gangsta rap.

You’d think I’d have fond memories of the ‘90s. It was my early childhood and all. But thinking of my parents just brought up old wounds. They’d been killed by a rogue dragon when I was young, and that was why I did what I did. I didn’t want any other little girl to go through what I’d been through.

Clarke, said a voice.

I looked up to see another slayer there, Juniper Ryan. She was only a few years older than me, and we used to be friends, but she didn’t much like the direction I was going in these days, and I was getting increasingly uncomfortable with her choices. She basically only killed rogues too, but she didn’t seem to have qualms about killing shifters.

Most slayers didn’t kill many shifters, of course. Shifters were harder to nab. They were smart, and didn’t go flying around where slayers might hunt them. In some ways, the point was moot, because taking down a shifter was such a rarity. It was the principle of the thing, however.

We’d had it out one night.

She said I was being an idiot, leaving money on the table.

I said she was a murderer.

After that, she wasn’t as friendly as she used to be.

Juniper. I lifted my beer bottle in greeting.

She settled down next to me on a bar stool. Listen, I wanted to ask you something.

Yeah? I was wary.

Some drakes in a gang from down south? The Drake Cobras?

Never heard of them, I said. Drakes were dragon-human hybrids. They were addicted to dragon meat. Most of them got hooked on it when they were humans. It was often dried and powdered and sold in pills. People liked to take the pills because it gave them a magical high. Made them feel invincible. They’d take the pills and do stupid stuff and get themselves killed. Then they’d wake up drakes.

I should know. It happened to my own sister.

Once the transformation was complete, drakes usually had scales and claws, even though they kept their humanoid form. They needed meat to stay alive—didn’t have to be dragon meat, though. Any meat would do.

Well, anyway, said Juniper, they got in touch with me. They want to work with a couple of slayers. We give them all the dragons we kill exclusively and they pay us bank. It’s perfect. No dealing with any other middle men, just cold, hard cash.

Why you telling me about this?

Well, I don’t want to be with any of the other guys out there, she said. Other slayers would probably double-cross me, or steal from me. I can’t trust just anyone. I trust you.

Really? I arched an eyebrow.

Well, I mean, you got principles, she said. Makes you trustworthy.

You know I can’t commit to exclusively giving them corpses, I said.

Because you’re still waiting around while dragon families pick them up? she said.

Yes, I said. Penny helped me work it all out. She’d created a website for families of missing dragons to post photos of their loved ones in dragon form. Whenever I found a match, I contacted the family of the dead dragon. I didn’t tend to tell them that I’d killed the dragon, however. Instead I lied, said that I’d found the body. It was better that way for both of us.

But that’s stupid, she said.

It’s the right thing to do.

She sighed. Come on, Clarke. What about that sister of yours? She’s always in trouble. Expensive trouble. You need money to deal with that.

It was true that Gina was a problem. Being a drake was just the tip of the iceberg when it came to her. But she’d been through a lot. We hadn’t had easy lives, she and I.

I shrugged. I manage.

You want to live in that dump of an apartment for the rest of your life?

Look, I can’t help you, I said. Find someone else.

She glared at me. Then she flounced off the barstool. Thanks for nothing, Clarke.

I winked at her. Anytime.

Her eyes flashed. You… She clenched her hands into fists. God. And then she turned on her heel and stalked off into the depths of the bar.

I sipped at my beer. Ah. Limey. Fizzy. Perfection.

Time passed.

I finished my beer, and no one else approached me. I was persona non grata in this place these days, not that I’d ever been Miss Popular. The bar happened to be a favorite of drakes as well as slayers—a strange sort of mix. Two drakes sat down at the bar, only leaving a few stools between us. One had green scales starting on his forehead and moving down over his cheeks. His ears were reptilian—nothing more than holes in his skull. The other looked human enough, but when he caught my glance for a second, his eyes were yellow, like a snake’s.

I nodded at them both and tried to decide whether I wanted another drink or not.

Then my phone rang.

I dug it out of my pocket and looked at the screen. It was my sister. Geez. I put the phone to my ear. What is it now, Gina?

Clarke, I need you, said my sister’s tear-filled voice over the phone.

So, what else was new? What happened?

I tried to get out, to get away from him, but I’m so weak. She started to sob again.

I sat up straight. What? What happened?

He took too much, Gina whispered. I told him to stop, but he didn’t listen. He might be coming after me. I don’t know. I think I lost him.

I slapped money on the bar, enough to cover my beer. A vampire? Were you selling your blood again?

Don’t lecture me, Clarke, she said. Just come get me. Please.

I was already up and halfway to the door. Where are you?

* * *

When I went after rogues, I was always armed with the slayer’s weapon of choice—a bow and arrows. There were a lot of reasons why slayers used them. They were easy to buy. There was no need to acquire a license or prove that one had never been arrested for a crime. An arrow caused less damage to the dragon’s body than a bullet, and most slayers wanted as much of the body intact and sellable as possible.

But bringing a bow and arrow to fight with a vampire didn’t make a lick of sense. Vampires could only be killed two ways—decapitation or fire. You could shoot