Old Dark (The Last Dragon Lord Book 1) (9 page)

Two men whispered as she moved through the crowd. She paused to listen, pretending to check her phone.
 

“What do you think it’s like?” one man asked.
 

“They say it ties into the election. It’s for voters.”

“Figures. I wondered when Grimoire was going to throw his money around.”

“You gotta love the balls on the guy.”

“Oh, no doubt. But when it comes to elections, I don’t care about balls. I care about facts and what the hell he’s actually going to do about the magic shortage.”

“I wouldn’t be upset if he crushed a few dragon skulls. They’ve all been flying dicks since the campaign started.”

Miri rolled her eyes. Typical conversation. Politics was the only thing people talked about lately.
 

She was sick of the viciousness, the attack ads, the piss and vinegar from both sides.
 

Gavlin’s was a standard grocery store, with tiled floors, can lights far up in the ceiling above, and shelves upon shelves of food, jars, and plastic cards representing spells that you could take to the front counter and redeem.
 

She cradled a basket under her arm and picked a jar of lotion off a wooden shelf. Then she tested a bottle of perfume, spraying a sample of a vanilla scent on her wrist.
 

She was making her way toward the grimoires in the back when the store erupted into applause and photoflashes.
 

All heads turned to the door as an entourage of people entered. She could only make out several pairs of sunglasses and pointy ears, and a bald head in the center.
 

Her stomach sank. She knew that head anywhere.
 

Several voices cried out. “Mr. Governor! Mr. Governor!”

The bald head stopped and a hand went into the air, waving.
 

“Hey, guys.”

Two people moved out of the way and Miri seized the opportunity, hurrying toward the cash registers where the governor greeted shoppers.
 

Ennius Grimoire was tall, with silver tufts of hair sticking out from the sides of his head. He had a trim goatee. Like all politicians, he wore a slim navy blue suit and tie. She could smell his cologne from across the room, a scent like a sickly blend of cigar smoke and lies.
 

He had won re-election twice, and if he won this year, this would be his third and final term. Few governors served less than three terms, and if he lost, it would be a notable historical moment.
 

Two men in suits stood a few feet away from Grimoire. A white orb hovered around him in a strange, elliptical orbit. Rumors were that the governor had made a deal with a dragon for protection, and that the orb was a dragon in Abstraction. If it was true, the dragon had never revealed itself, and no one knew what the Abstraction was.
 

Maybe it was Corruption—at least that’s what Miri had always thought.

The crowd quieted as Ennius spoke.
 

“You’re probably wondering why I’m here today.” He straightened his tie and glanced around with a sly smile. “I had to see what my nephew’s new grimoire was all about. Since I’m the governor, I wanted to rule out any product defects for myself...”

A few people said “Oooooooh.”

Miri groaned. The trash talking was about to begin.
 

Ennius held up a plastic card with a rainbow pentagram printed on it. It was the new grimoire.
 

“Don’t worry, I paid for it,” he said as the crowd laughed. “I don’t dislike Lucan
that
much.”

The cameras flashed wildly as he put his finger in the middle of the pentagram. The card lit up, suffusing his face with an astral glow.
 

The pentagram projected off the card and into a three-dimensional hologram in front of his face, an emanation of bright light. He touched one of the points on the pentagram, and a wheel of faces hovered over his fingers: his, Lucan’s, and several others.
 

“It’s actually not bad.”

Ennius dialed through the wheel with his finger until the image of his own face hovered in front of his. “Let’s see what this thing actually does, shall we?”

He tapped his face. Glowing words sprung up around it.
 

Governor Ennius Grimoire

Age: 64

Party: Magisical Party

Positions: Pro-magic, Anti-dragon (sometimes), Pro-business…

And then a biographical paragraph scrolled in front of the governor’s eyes. He read it silently, his face flushing redder as the words rolled by. His lips tightened, and he stopped the scroll abruptly.

He tapped on Lucan’s face and a similar profile appeared. The governor pursed his lips in thought, and then he swiped away the pentagram. It dissolved like ink in water, and the store, so full of light for a moment, grew dim again.
 

“This appears to be a simple informational grimoire, a wonderful service by a company that’s deeply committed to our political system—there’s no question about that. But don’t be fooled by the innocuous façade. You might think that The Grimoire Company is doing you a favor in providing side-by-side information on the candidates. However, my nephew, Lucan, thinks he can influence how you think. There’s a simple law that many of you who run businesses understand. It’s called the law of reciprocity. He gives you some harmless information today. But tomorrow, he will ask more of you. And after all, you bought a cheap grimoire that his company toiled to create … and then it becomes all too easy to act out of guilt. You see, Lucan is using this grimoire to steer you away from me. To steer you away from your true beliefs. We have a word for that in government—it’s called electioneering. That’s why tomorrow, I’ll be filing a lawsuit against The Grimoire Company for this egregious act of politics. Draw your own conclusions when the verdict drops.”

A few people booed. The governor seemed to take the insults personally, and he held up his hand to silence them.
 

“You know what pisses me off about all of this? What kind of man trash talks the patriarch of his own family and runs a smear campaign against him?”

He was going off script. Tension was building in the room.
 

“I raised Lucan. I was practically his father. When his dad died, I promised to help out. I put him up in my mansion. Loira and I treated him like one of our own. Just like the rest of our children. And when he told me he was going to drop out of college, I supported him because he was starting a business. Look how successful he’s become. He’s made more money than I’ll make in my lifetime. But the truth is he’d be nothing without me. But for my advice, there’d be no Grimoire Company. Just a bed of broken dreams, filled with hookers and drugs.”

The crowd booed again, fully enjoying the show.

“Because you all know that, right? About his substance abuse? I can’t tell you how many nights I scooped him off my porch.”

Ennius smirked, and then paused.

“Lucan keeps talking about how I’ve done nothing for the capital. How I’ve done nothing for the Half Eight. Before I came along, this place was a slum. A shanty town! The university was on the verge of shutting down. And when a group of business owners sold me on what this place could be, I invested my own money. Is Stella Gavlin here tonight?”

A wrinkled woman in the back of the room raised her hand, laughing joyfully.
 

“Stella—how are you, sweetie? This woman helped bring this neighborhood back. I’ll never forget when I met her the first time. She had plan after plan after plan—and those plans made this wonderful place a reality. Ladies and gentlemen,
I
have plans. You know what they are; you’ve lived them for the last twelve years. So when Lucan speaks next, why don’t you ask him what
his
plans are?”

Ennius crumpled the grimoire and tossed it into the trashcan.
 

A reporter raised her hand. “Mr. Governor, you’ve accused your nephew of being thin on magical policy. Can you elaborate?”

The governor smiled graciously.
 

“You all have a choice. It’s a simple choice. Vote for the man who made this city what it is, or vote for the little boy masquerading as a political candidate. I love my nephew, but this isn’t about family ties. It’s about making you all feel safe. It’s about saving our environment and figuring out a way to solve the magic crisis. I’ve already set up task forces. What has he done?”

Another reporter raised a hand. “Do you think he’s really a serious threat, being twenty points behind?”

“No. He’s not a threat. But I’m the head of my family, and I won’t be smeared by my ungrateful nephew.”

More reporters raised their hands with questions, and Miri quickly stepped forward. “I have a question, Mr. Governor.”

“Miss Charmwell, what a surprise.”

“You said that magical conservation is a priority. Do you think dismantling the Academy of History and Magical Sciences really supports your platform? Removing the only access to Magical Science education?”

The governor’s face went harsh. “Your current so-called education is full of
errors and opinions,
Miss Charmwell. And I intend to clean it up.”

One of the guards whispered to the governor.
 

“That’s all, everyone,” Ennius said, smiling and turning back to the crowd. “Have a good night!” He headed for the door; stealing an angry glance at Miri.
 

Miri didn’t look away.
 

I’ve got nothing to lose. Do your worst.

The governor climbed into a limo and it sped off.
 

The people in the store murmured.
 

Miri paid for her things, proud of herself. She had dealt him a blow. If he had stayed longer, she would have grilled him even more.
 

It was drizzling when she left, and after a few blocks the area grew empty again. The dark, gritty streets of the Half Eight stretched before her.

She heard a soft metal whine behind her. Headlights switched on. A black car inched toward her. As it got closer, it appeared to be a government car, with silver fins, tinted windows, and a sleek, elongated body flared out on the sides.

Was it the governor? Was he coming back to tell her what he really thought?

She suddenly regretted her outburst.
 

“Think, Miri, think,” she muttered as the car picked up speed.

It was coming for her.

XI

The car followed Miri for two blocks. She clutched her purse closer and tried to think of what to do.
 

The Half Eight wasn’t known for crime, but it was known for its grit. Humans and elves both lived here, and so did the children that their marriages begat. The result was a diverse cultural district that was misunderstood by many who lived outside it. But crime did happen, especially given that it was an election year, and a lot of residents in the district were unhappy about the magic shortage.
 

Miri used a sideview mirror of a nearby parked car to check if the car was still behind her.

It was.

Its headlights reflected off the greasy puddles on the street.
 

Dark red and gray clouds moved over the city and threatened a storm. The skyscrapers were rain-slicked, holding the last light of dusk mixed with moonlight. The view was breathtaking, but she scolded herself for being so romantic when her life was in danger. But then again, she wondered if it would be the last beautiful sunset she’d ever see.

She quickened her pace.
 

Aside from pissing the governor off, she didn’t have enemies, at least none that wanted to do her harm. She was pretty, and her reputation was well-known.
 

She didn’t have anyone she could call. Not this late. That was the downside to being a workaholic introvert. Her mother always said she’d die alone—Miri prayed it wasn’t going to happen tonight.

I have to make it seem like I’m talking to someone.

She pulled out her phone and pretended to dial. Then she placed it to her ear.
 

She spoke as convincingly as she could.
 

“Dean Rosehill, what an unexpected pleasure.”

She imagined the dragon speaking back.

They’re coming for you, my dear.

“Don’t be silly. Of course I have time.”

First they’re going to take your job.

“I am in the Half Eight,” she said loudly.
 

Still, the car tires crunched forward.

Next will be your dignity. You stand for nothing. You are irrelevant.

“This is relevant because I’ve been researching that very thing!”

They will rip you apart, just like they did your degree.

“Is there any chance I can get that back?”

No. We don’t award our prestigious degrees to little girls who cannot hold their tongues. Goodbye, Miss Charmwell. And rest in peace.

She couldn’t think of anything to say. The damned dragon had hung up on her, and she was only pretending to speak to him!

Meanwhile, the car had picked up speed.

She turned, and the headlights washed across her face.

Oh, no…

A man in a black cap was driving. He had a stone-faced expression, and his eyes followed her.

She reached into her purse and gripped a canister of magicked pepper spray. It was enhanced with a grimoire that created a cloud that hung over the head for hours, giving the authorities more time to hunt down the criminal. The grimoire would reveal a signature in the presence of the police that matched the one-of-a-kind pentagram on the bottle.
 

If he springs, don’t miss, Miri. Don’t miss.

The canister slid across her sweating palm. Her finger trembled on the trigger of the spray; she struggled to grip it.
 

The car pulled up alongside her.
 

One of the rear windows rolled down; it sounded like an airplane in a nosedive. A figure sat in the back, submerged in shadow.