Exodus (Imp Series Book 8) Read online

“Honestly, I’m good anywhere,” Bob assured me. “I’ll even sleep in that unfinished structure over there.” He pointed to the framed out guest house—the guest house that suddenly burst into flames.

  We both stared wordlessly at the inferno, then Bob brought his index finger close to his nose, paling slightly. At least I think he paled. It was hard to tell with his dark complexion.

  “Was it supposed to do that?” he whispered.

  No, it wasn’t supposed to do that. I leaned closer inspecting Bob’s index finger with the same care that he was doing. Had I been wrong about elven magic in this world? Was it possible that the elves were even more powerful here, able to set buildings on fire by accident, without even muttering an incantation?

  Just before I began to rethink my entire elven migration strategy, I heard a roar. It was a huge, earth shattering roar and it was followed up by an ear piercing scream that could only be delivered by young children or angry human women.

  Nyalla. I ran, putting on a burst of speed far faster than my human form should have been able to manage. Bob kept pace, and I was impressed that he was by my side and not running in the opposite direction. I might not have much respect for elves, but this one at least was brave. We rounded the corner to see a red dragon tearing up my landscaping as he frantically tried to escape the garden hose Nyalla was spraying him with.

  She was in a bikini, her nose white with sunscreen and her sunglasses askew. Her waist-length, dark-blond hair flew around her, wet strands clumped together like dreads, or Medusa’s famous locks. She was yelling something about stupid dragons and had the hose turned on full blast. Normally that wouldn’t do much to a dragon, but this guy was young—about half the size of the one who’d claimed the British Museum last year—and I’d modified my garden hose.

  It seemed like a good idea at the time to have it at twice the force of a fireman’s hose. And it was funny to prank my demon household with it, sending them flying over hedges and into the horse pasture with one blast. It wasn’t so amusing when I tried to water plants or clean off the pool patio and wound up with a mini-demolition instead. The landscapers had just finished repairs two days ago but I hadn’t gotten around to returning the hose to normal. Thankfully.

  I gave Nyalla a few moments of glory while I watched her in action. Yeah, it terrified me when she put herself at risk like this, but she was a grown woman and if she wanted to be Satan’s right-hand girl, then she needed to know how to take down demons, elves, and evidently the occasional dragon.

  Moving closer, Nyalla sprayed the dragon into a prone position, then turned off the hose, bopping it on the head with the nozzle. “Stupid thing. You made me spill my drink.”

  I tensed, but this dragon was even younger than I’d thought and had obviously never seen a human before. He cowered like a half-drowned, six foot tall iguana with wings. Then he flinched as Nyalla turned the hose on the guest house, putting out the burning bits that the water bouncing off the dragon’s hide hadn’t hit. The structure was a mess, smoking and dripping, blackened two-by-fours still remaining impossibly upright.

  “Who is that?” Bob breathed. I narrowed my eyes at his worshipful tone.

  “I hope you mean the dragon.”

  “No. That. That amazing human woman who battles dragons half-naked because they spilled her drink. ”

  I was predisposed to hate any man interested in Nyalla. I couldn’t do much about it though. There were tons of men interested in Nyalla—humans, werewolves, Fallen Angels and now an elf. I couldn’t keep track of them all, and my girl seemed to have a bit of a promiscuous bent. Which meant they came and went much faster than I’d normally expect with a human female. Nyalla was fully capable to taking care of herself—lovers and dragons, evidently. Still, I hated it when things didn’t work out romantically for her. Nils was in an emo funk over their breakup. It was the Fallen Angel I should be upset for, not my strong and capable human girl, but I’d seen the sadness in her eyes. Humans needed partners. Until a few years ago I’d not understood such things, but with Gregory…well, I knew how wonderful it was to have someone there by your side, someone who had your back, someone to love. I wanted that for Nyalla too, but not with Bob.

  I needn’t have worried. Nyalla turned and smiled as she saw me, then her eyes drifted to my companion. With a shriek she turned the hose on full blast and blew the elf across my driveway and into the woods. Unfortunately Bob was right next to me, and the hose wasn’t all that accurate at that distance. The edge of the blast caught me and I tumbled across the driveway, gasping for air as water pounded my skin and asphalt tore at my clothing.

  The water ended abruptly. I was drenched. My skin felt like it had been repeatedly gone over with a belt sander. My driveway now had a jagged furrow in the formerly smooth, black pavement.

  “Where’s the elf?” Nyalla snarled. I looked up from my prone position to see her marching across the front lawn. She’d abandoned the hose, but from the look of her face, I had no doubt who would win if it came to a physical confrontation between her and Bob.

  “Don’t kill him,” I told her, staggering to my feet and trying to wring out my hair. “He’s supposed to help me find the migrating elven groups so I can send them back to Hel. He’s a Klee elf. They’re not so bad.”

  Nyalla halted and spun about to face me. “Not so bad? Like a second degree burn is not so bad? Could be worse. Could be third degree. Klee might not be as bad as Wythyn or Cyelle, but they’re still horrible.”

  “They return humans who don’t want to stay in Hel,” I countered. “They even marry some, granting them full privileges. What’s wrong with that?”

  Nyalla stood a moment, her hands on her hips. “They set traps and bring unwilling humans to Hel, and the return is only offered after six months in Hel. Stockholm syndrome, Sam? As for equality, the humans have the worst jobs, the lowest pay. Marriage to an elf is the best it gets, and even with supposedly full privileges, they’re still second class citizens. There are no love matches. Those marriages are simply so desperate elves can overcome their infertility issues and the human partner can be a few rungs on the ladder above the rest. Half-breeds aren’t treated the same as full elves. Elves are careful to show their lineage, and the highest positions go to those who have no human blood in their veins. It’s horrible.”

  Well, yeah. When she put it that way.

  “We’re in a jam, Nyalla. The elves are coming whether you and I want them to or not. With Bob’s help I may be able to limit the elves here to just the Klee ones. I need him. Can you please refrain from killing him?”

  “Bob? Elves aren’t named Bob.”

  “I can’t remember his name. It’s something long and unpronounceable. You can call him Bob.”

  She glared. “I won’t be calling him anything. He’s not sleeping in the house. And if he looks at me, says one word to me, then I won’t be held responsible for my actions.”

  Fair enough. I watched her stomp back into the house, snatching up the hose on her way. The little dragon cringed as she went by, staring at her with big eyes. I figured he had been appropriately subdued, so I left him by the burned-out shell of my guest house and went to look for my elf.

  Bob was clear across Route 26. I wasn’t sure if the hose had launched him that far, or if once he’d landed in the woods opposite my driveway he’d hauled ass as fast and as far away from Nyalla as he could manage. The elf stood when he saw me, looking around in panic. His clothes were in shreds, his dark skin tinged bright red.

  “Don’t worry. She didn’t come with me.”

  I was glad the blast hadn’t blown the skin right off of him. I’m not great at calibrating these things, and I got the feeling that much water pressure would have sent a human to the hospital, or perhaps even to his grave.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Now that he was safely distant from Nyalla and her water hose of death, Bob was getting angry.

  “I told you. She spent most of her life a changeling slave in Hel. She was not treated
well, and she holds a grudge.”

  Bob dusted himself off, looking carefully both ways before crossing 26. “I’ll say she does.”

  Honestly I wondered if there was something else going on with Nyalla. Was she regretting the break-up with Nils? Had something happened with one of her friends? Was she menstruating? I’d have to ask her later, maybe after I’d put on a suit of armor and fed her a few pounds of chocolate. Humans were tricky to read, and young females seemed especially moody. I swear they were worse than angels.

  “She hates elves, so don’t look at her or speak to her. I’ll probably have to make you sleep in the stables with the horses and Dalmai. Sorry. That dragon destroyed my guest house and I can’t put you in the same space as Nyalla.”

  “I would rather sleep in the middle of this path with the fast-moving metal transportation devices than in the same house as her,” Bob declared. But there was something in his voice that made me wonder if Nyalla’s violent greeting hadn’t done just as much to turn him on as her dousing the dragon.

  We walked back down the road for the second time in the last half hour. It was the perfect time to clear up all the accusations that Nyalla had made.

  “So Klee elves don’t return trapped humans for six months after they fall into Hel?”

  Bob looked off to the side, as if the oaks and maples of the woods were particularly fascinating. “We don’t trap humans anymore. That was the deal after the elven wars.”

  Yes. I’d been the one who’d forced them into that concession. “Before the elven wars, I mean.”

  Bob hesitated a split second. “Yes. Six months. After that, if they wanted to return, they could. About a quarter of them decided to come back here. The rest stayed and became Klee citizens.”

  “Second class citizens? Paid less. Subjected to tighter enforcement of laws? Always the bottom of the stack when it came to permits or applications?”

  “Yes.” One word, said in a tight, tense voice.

  “And marriage is primarily to overcome the elven fertility issues. The human partner is the lesser half, and half-breed children aren’t quite as equal as full elves?”

  Bob stopped and turned to me, his face as if it were carved from stone. “There are occasional love matches, but what you’ve said is true.”

  I thought about all this, about what would happen if I followed through on what I’d tentatively agreed upon in Hel.

  “I can’t let the Klee elves stay here,” I said slowly. “I can’t. I’ll not have you treating humans as anything less but full equals.”

  “I always treat humans as full equals,” Bob shot back, the stony face cracking and once again revealing his anger. “You see, I’m one of those half-breeds. Humans can’t tell. Demons can’t tell unless they touch me and check my genetic structure. But elves? Oh elves can tell, and they can somehow tell at a glance. So I’m used to being paid less, having my application shuffled to the bottom of the stack, having elves shift to the other side of the dining hall away from me.”

  He began to pace, kicking rocks as he went. “This is our only hope—my only hope. Here the full elves will be outnumbered. Here those of us with mixed blood will finally have some semblance of equality.”

  I think he was overestimating the humans. They did the same as the Klee elves with subtle forms of discrimination—sometimes even overt forms of discrimination. I wasn’t sure how they’d take the presence of elves—even the half-breed ones. And I wasn’t sure how a half-breed elf with dark skin, silver hair and mismatched eyes was going to find the acceptance and equal treatment he longed for.

  But Bob’s tirade had given me some sympathy for him. Even if Gregory nixed the Klee elf settlement, or whatever, I’d try to find a way to make a home for the mixed breed elves here. If I remained the Iblis, that is.

  “I’ll do what I can,” I promised. Then I put my arm around Bob and started again for the house. Bob wasn’t my only worry. I had a sodden little red dragon cowering in my yard. Sparky in London was the only dragon allowed here. Gregory’s angels had closed the gates to that world, and the new, reptilian owner of the British Museum had to be transported back and forth by my archangel every six months. Unless the angel had screwed up and a stowaway had followed Sparky in, this dragon shouldn’t be here.

  And Gregory never screwed up. Well, hardly ever, and if he did he didn’t admit it.

  Chapter 7

  Sparky! A little help here!” I’d teleported myself and the pint-size dragon into the newly remodeled currency exhibit of the British Museum, and the shock of traveling via Angel of Chaos had woken him out of his half-drowned stupor. I’d barely had time to notice the Stock Certificates Through The Ages display before Little Red began to thrash around, smashing display cases and scattering coin and paper bills all over the room. He hadn’t resorted to setting any of it on fire—yet. And I was hoping his larger brethren would be able to restrain him better than I could.

  “Sparky! Get your scaled ass in here!” I grabbed Little Red’s tail in an effort to keep him from destroying any more of the exhibits. London’s residents weren’t fans of mine after the last fiasco at the museum. Yes, the resident dragon was a huge draw bringing wealthy tourists from all over the world, but the revenues still hadn’t covered the damages that the dragon, I, the angels and the power-mad demon had caused. Maybe when they were in the black they’d be more forgiving, but as the young dragon smashed his way through the glass displays all I could do is wince and hope no security guard came in and Tazed me.

  “Sparky!”

  A red-scaled nose filled the doorway, sharp, brilliant-white lower fangs protruding. Smoke curled from the nostrils as the head slid into view, eyes barely visible at the top of the door jamb. The effect on Little Red was remarkable. The dragon made a squeak noise and tried to hide behind me, holding completely still once he realized that I was half his size and wouldn’t block Sparky’s view.

  The bigger dragon huffed, filling the room with smoke. “Sam? What are you doing with that baby? This is my treasure-hoard. Part of our agreement was that I not share it with anyone—especially another dragon.”

  I glared at him. “I don’t give a shit about your treasure, I want to know how the fuck this dragon got here. You’re it, Sparky. You’re the only dragon allowed. So how the hell is this guy here?”

  Sparky tilted his head, knocking a chunk out of the doorway. They really needed to make these things wider and more dragon accessible. “He’s just a baby. I didn’t bring him here. You, baby dragon, how did you manage to transport yourself?”

  I turned to look at Little Red who was shaking and trying to make himself as small as possible as he cowered behind me. “The angel brought me here,” he replied, his voice high-pitched and wavering. “He said it would be fun. It’s not fun. At least it hasn’t been fun so far. Some bipedal creature blasted me with cold water. It was horrible.”

  The angel? There was no way Gregory would have brought any dragon beyond Sparky here, and I didn’t know many angels besides the ones on the Ruling Council who had enough mojo to open an interdimensional gateway.

  “Can you describe the angel?” I asked Little Red.

  He turned his huge black eyes toward me, snout quivering. I had to admit that at this particular moment, the dragon looked downright adorable. “The angel was pale and blond. I think it might have been a male angel, but I’m not sure. He was kind of glowing and blurry. I was out looking for treasure and he told me he knew where I could find some. He told me this would be fun.”

  Oh, for fuck sake. This was like the creeper-dude in a white van scenario, only dragon style. He even offered Little Red the dragon version of puppies and candy. I’d need to let Gregory know he had an angel running amok, letting dragons and who knows what else into the human world. In the meantime, I wasn’t sure what to do with Little Red.

  “So…when do you go back to Dragonland or whatever the fuck you guys call that place?” I asked the bigger of the two reptiles.

  Sparky eyed me su
spiciously. “Six months. I just got here. Why?”

  Damn. Six months. I wish my teleportation skills were more long-range. Besides the human realm, the only places I’d been able to transport myself to were Hel and Aaru. I wondered how dragons would manage in Hel? I envisioned a few possible scenarios, and figured nothing would reinforce the elven migration better than a six foot tall red dragon setting their forests on fire and gobbling up their deer. Plus the elves liked shiny things. Dragons liked shiny things. Neither liked to share. Nope, Hel was off the table. I knew better than to even suggest Aaru. Little Red’s physical form would disintegrate within a few days, and I doubted he had the ability to exist as a being of spirit. That meant he needed to remain here, at least until Sparky went back.

  “Six months. Great. Do you think you could—”

  “No.” The word was accompanied by a steamy curl of smoke. “I’m not babysitting that thing.”

  “But this thing is a dragon,” I protested. “It’s like your brother or something. And, as you said, it’s practically a baby. Look at those big eyes and red snout—isn’t he adorable? How can you cast him out to live among the humans with their firehoses? Where is your maternal, err paternal, instinct?”

  The elder dragon arched a scaled eyebrow. Little Red’s eyes got even bigger. He’d increased his trembling at my mention of humans and firehoses. Heck, he was spurring my maternal instincts.

  “No. This is my treasure, and I’m not going to share. It’s not my fault he’s here. He’s not my hatchling. Deal with him yourself, or get that grumpy angel of yours to deal with him.”

  I’d thought about asking Gregory to send Little Red back, but those gateways took a toll on him, and he needed to be fully juiced up right now. Wild gates, elves poised to swarm the planet like a bunch of angry ants, the escalating conflict in Aaru—two long-range gates in a matter of weeks wouldn’t kill him but he’d be less than the god-like archangel I’d come to rely on.

  Which made me suspect was this angel-in-a-white-van’s intention. Other Grigori were busy with the wild gates or fighting rebels. Very few of them could manage a gate to Dragontopia. One more reason I needed to stop arguing with Sparky and talk to Gregory right now—something was brewing. Something big. As if we didn’t already have enough Somethings to deal with.