Conspiracy of Dragons (Here Be Dragons Book 4), page 5
As I expected, Brandt categorically refused to leave the city midweek, especially after he heard what had happened and what our working theories are. His opinion is that we need to go full speed ahead on the plan to reintroduce magic to humans, in an attempt to thwart whatever plans the hacker might have by getting ahead of them. I’m not convinced that’s viable, and Stef’s definitely not, but we had no choice other than to stay. The scans at the condo came back clear, so that’s something, at least.
With everything that happened today, I didn’t get a chance to pull Stef aside and make sure he was okay. I had to satisfy myself with monitoring him through the merge of our magic, which is… unreliable, at best. But he held it together, and while everyone else was checking for any data breaches of their servers, he sat down and put together a comprehensive list of potential leaks and how we can tell which it is. It’ll take a while to either clear all those people or devise a test to see if it was them, but it’s a start.
Now, though, as the door closes behind us and he begins his nightly perimeter check, I need to make sure he’s okay.
When he’s done, though. Interrupting him now wouldn’t help anything.
While I wait, I fetch his embroidery bag. He’s going to need it tonight.
Sure enough, when he comes back to me, his eyes fall on it and gleam with longing. “Here,” I offer, holding it out. “Just tell me first, are you okay?”
He leans in and kisses me, a brush of his lips against mine, then just stays there, breathing, our mouths the only place we touch… physically. His magic twines with mine, clinging desperately.
“I will be,” he says at last, pulling back. “It was a hard day.”
“I bet. For me, too. Can I sit with you for a bit?” I usually leave him to it when he’s doing needlework, but sometimes he doesn’t mind company.
“Please.” We settle beside each other on the couch, and while he embroiders a red train along the hem of a small blue T-shirt, I turn on the TV and log into Netflix, deciding to rewatch a few episodes of The Office. In a minute, I’ll get dinner started, but I like having this quiet time with him.
I can’t deny that part of me was bitterly disappointed by our conversation last night. The more time passes, the more I want to bring our relationship into the open. We’ve been together so long… since long before any of the Earth people we know were even born. Since before several of our friends were born. And yes, I knew from the outset that Steffen wanted us to be a secret, knew and understood why… but so much has changed since then, especially recently. We’re in a new place, away from all the dangers that worried him. They don’t even exist anymore. I’d hoped that maybe he’d be able to let go of his fears and have a little happiness. I see my friends being casually affectionate with their partners, or even just talking about them in a way that makes it so clear they’re together, and I want that.
I want the universe to know that Stef and I belong to each other.
But if he’s not ready for it, I won’t push. I have him, and even if things never change, I’ll be happy with that, because I’ll still have him.
The second episode is wrapping up and dinner’s in the oven when Stef finishes the train and puts his needle away. As always, I’m awed by how quickly he can create such beautiful art. In less than an hour, he’s made the otherwise basic shirt something just a little bit special. He folds it carefully and tucks it into the bag of finished garments. One of us will drop it off to be distributed later in the week.
“I need to think of a way to handle these meetings better,” he says out of the blue. “People don’t like being told their ideas won’t work, even when I don’t outright call them stupid.”
“It’s a problem,” I agree. “Was there anything today that was close to usable?”
He pulls a face and shakes his head. “No. Two of the concepts had potential, but they needed a lot of work. I don’t understand why everyone is so willing to put all their trust in humans.”
I pick up the remote and hit Pause before the next episode can begin. “Are you sure that’s what’s happening? I never got the impression that the community of species trusted humans all that much.”
He shrugs. “All these plans call for giving groups of humans access to magic without any restrictions.”
Ah. There’s the issue. Shit.
“What kind of restrictions could there be, though? Once they’re shown how to use their magic, there’s no way to limit that.”
He doesn’t meet my eyes, and I sigh.
“Stef.”
“It would be safer for everyone.”
“Short-term, maybe, but you know it would make things worse in the long run. Not to mention it’s completely abhorrent.”
He sets his jaw stubbornly, and I bite back a smile. After the meeting where it was decided that humans needed to relearn magic, Steffen, ranting to me in private, suggested the safest way to do it was with captive humans who wouldn’t be able to use their magic against us.
Of course, his rant then morphed into a series of conspiracy theories wherein the humans rose up to overthrow their oppressors, so that idea never got off the ground. But the thing with Stef’s brain is, while it throws up all the possible things that could go wrong, it also calculates ways to make them work. So I wouldn’t be surprised if he hasn’t worked out some system where the risk of keeping humans in low-key captivity where they didn’t realize they’d lost any freedom—akin to what happened in the movie, The Matrix, which both fascinated and terrified him—is less than teaching free humans to use magic.
I’m not worried, though. For all his bluster, I know the one thing Steffen could never, ever bring himself to do is enslave or otherwise hold captive another living being. He struggles with the idea of keeping animals as pets. If someone walked into the next meeting and suggested a human magic farm or something similar, he’d be the first person to knock that on its ass.
“Fine,” he concedes. “But the idea isn’t bad. It’s just morally unacceptable and infeasible.”
Which to my mind makes it bad, but I get how he classifies things differently. From a logistical standpoint, if you consider the safety of Brandt and other dragons to be the most important factor, with the well-being of humans not relevant, then sure, it’s not a bad idea.
“So you need an idea that’s not morally unacceptable,” I prompt, and he nods. “Didn’t someone mention earlier that we could start with humans who were already connected to the community? People like Rob and his family?”
“Yes, but there aren’t enough of them to balance things,” he says sourly. “And that’s where it goes off the rails. We can’t just assume that all the people they trust are trustworthy.”
He’s right about that. As much as we all like to think our friends and family are good people, the truth is, there’s no concrete definition of “good.” People have different priorities and standards, and you can think you know someone well and still be completely surprised by them. But knowing Stef as I do, he’s already thought this through.
“What’s the solution, then?”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Steffen
I look at Wil, with that challenging little smile on his lips and the way he’s quirked his eyebrow as if inviting me to solve the world’s problems, and I fall in love with him all over again.
“We have to do it slower than they’re thinking,” I say. “Start with the humans who have direct connections to someone in the community. Spouses, children, stepfamilies. People who know about our world and have already been keeping it secret for a long time. People who have a vested interest in the community staying safe and would likely fight on our side if it came down to that.”
He opens his mouth—probably to point out that a fight is what we’re trying to avoid—and I wave my hand. “Yes, I know. I’m not expecting a battle.” Well, only the paranoid part of me is. “But those would be the safest people to start with. I’d still want a security check, but it would likely only need to be a surface one. Maybe just an interview to get their measure, make sure they don’t secretly resent their half sister who can shift into a cat and aren’t plotting to turn her into a fur coat.”
Wil snorts. “You have such a way with word imagery.”
“Felid shifters do have nice thick coats,” I argue. “If I was a jealous half sister, that would be the ultimate revenge.”
He rolls his wrist in a “continue” motion. “Okay, so we’ve ascertained that the felid shifter’s half sister doesn’t secretly want to turn her into a coat. That clears her to begin learning magic, right?”
I force myself to say, “Right.” Statistically, that group of people is the lowest risk, especially after a security check, but my paranoia insists that any human is a danger. I remind it about Rob, Dustin’s human boyfriend whose stepfather is an incubus. I’m as sure as I can be that Rob is no danger to us. He’d lay his life down to protect Dustin.
“So the plan is that the next ‘safe’ group to reach out to is friends and family of those people?”
“And that’s where it falls apart,” I confirm. “Just because person A is invested in keeping the community safe, it doesn’t mean their brother-in-law or cousin or best friend is.”
“Agreed,” he says. “What if you add a layer to that, though? If their cousin or best friend has already been let in on the secret and has also been keeping it.”
Alarm rears up inside me. “Those people aren’t supposed to know. CSG guidelines are clear: immediate family members only. People who live with you or might be called on to be next of kin in an emergency.” Anxiety begins to build in my chest.
“Stop,” Wil says. It’s just an ordinary word, no spell behind it, but then I’m not in the grip of paranoia. I make myself take a few deep breaths. “We both know guidelines aren’t always followed to the letter. If those people have been keeping the secret, then they can be included as safe. If they haven’t… well, CSG has a department for that, and since the entire human world doesn’t already know what’s going on, I guess that department is doing a good job.”
I sniff. Adequate, maybe. Probably not good, or they’d already know about all the people who know things they shouldn’t.
“Those people would be a better risk than just random friends and relatives,” I admit, even though the idea of unauthorized people wandering around with the full knowledge of the community makes my brain itch. “They’re the logical next step.”
“Would that bring the numbers high enough to create a balance?”
I shake my head. “No. Even if we brought in all the families and friends, we were still going to fall short. That’s where the plans all went completely off the deep end and wanted to bring in random strangers who could be psychopathic killers.”
The benefit of having known Wil so intimately for so long is that I can predict his thought process. He’s wondering if he should remind me that not every stranger is a psychopathic killer, or if it would be better to keep the conversation on track. I lean over and kiss his cheek, thrilling as always in the small intimacy, and then save him the effort of making the decision.
“Do you think I should suggest we begin immediately with the first-level human contacts and then develop further plans as we go?”
He nods. “I think that would go a long way toward rebuilding some of the bridges that got burned today. David and Caolan are coordinating this operation, right?”
“Yes. I’ll talk to them first.”
“Also pick a plan that was suggested today that has the most promise in those early stages, and suggest amending that. There’s a time crunch for this, right? So give them the tools they need to get started, and then that will allow some flexibility in planning for the next part.” He pauses. “If the numbers don’t balance, then more humans will need to be brought into it, Stef.”
Ugh. What an awful thought. Let’s distract from that. “Dinner?”
Wil chuckles and stands, then hauls me up with him. “Dinner.”
It’s not until we’re snuggled in bed later, after dinner, a long debate on how to handle things while we work out what today’s intruder was after, and a couple of hours of television, that I remember what Wil asked me last night.
I’ve been avoiding thinking about it. If people know we’re together, that my life begins and ends with him, that he’s important and valuable to me… then he becomes a target. He becomes a way to hurt me. And I can’t risk that. I can’t risk his health and safety and happiness that way. It’s bad enough that every day he lives a life surrounded by ordinary dangers: people driving cars, irresponsible idiots with firearms, runaway reindeer with their sharp antlers… stampeding shoppers. Inattentive window cleaners on skyscrapers who drop things. Food service staff with poor hygiene. Not that we’re susceptible to food poisoning, really, but it’s still a risk. And that’s before I factor in that Wil works in security. If someone was to make an attempt on Brandt or Percy, that would put him in the line of fire.
There are so many threats to him already; how can I possibly paint a target on him too?
That’s your paranoia talking, whispers a voice that sounds a lot like Wil. I glance over at his sleeping face on the pillow beside me. Maybe he’s right. Maybe it is safe now. Éibhear is dead. He was tried, sentenced, and executed. I saw him die. I witnessed the king invoking the soul-death spell at his trial; watched as Caolan blasted a hole through his torso. Saw him fall, dead for the last time, dead for all eternity, never to be reincarnated. It’s a punishment only three people ever in the history of all dragons and elves have been sentenced to, but if anyone deserved it, it was him.
Unfortunately, his death doesn’t change the fact that he lives on in my nightmares. No matter how hard I try, the memories of those centuries in his power won’t let me go.
Nothing is safe. No one, and nowhere. Trust nobody. When you think you’re safe, that maybe this time it will be okay… that’s when you learn you’re wrong. And it always hurts.
But pain doesn’t always have to be physical.
Beside me, Wil stirs. “Stef?” he murmurs, reaching through the tangle of covers to take my hand.
“I’m okay. Go back to sleep.” I can’t hurt him with this. He wants us to tell the world we’re together because he loves me. But it’s because of how much I love him that we never can.
How fucked-up is that? I want to give him everything his heart desires, but the very depth of my love for him means that the one thing he wants, I can’t give him.
He rolls to face me and studies my face in the shadowy light. “Paranoia?”
I shake my head. “Just memories. I’m okay.”
His lips meet mine in a soft, gentle reminder that those times are behind me, and I cuddle closer to him, our breath mingling.
“Do you need your hoard?” he asks softly, and I spare a thought to the tiny smocked dress that’s next on the pile to embellish. I planned to give it a border of cherries in a bold red silk to complement the lemon color of the fabric. My fingers itch to hold the needle and let my brain switch off for a while, let go of every thought except where the next stitch needs to be.
But it’s only ever temporary, and I need a good night’s sleep right now. I’m better off here, snuggled with Wil, than I would be sitting up half the night.
“No. Just hold me.”
His lips quirk into a smile. “Always.”
And he does.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Wil
We circle the estate, and a tiny part of me that’s been clenched tight for the past few days finally relaxes. It’s good to be home.
And not that I’d ever tell Stef, but knowing the frankly ridiculous security setup Brandt will be behind in just a few minutes—missile launchers included—is a relief.
Steffen finishes scanning with his magic and signals to Brandt, who swoops down to land. As required by protocol, I pace him all the way down and shift as soon as I’ve landed, while Stef covers us from above in case there’s an aerial attack. By whom, I have no idea, but it’s a simple enough thing to allow him to do and prevents his paranoia from gaining a foothold.
Once I’m back in biped form, I magically scan the area again—all clear, but Fabian and Rhys and Dustin and Rob are already here, surprisingly—then turn to help Percy down from Brandt’s back while Steffen lands. I do allow myself a second to admire his dragon form, which is just as sleek and gorgeous as his biped. The green of his scales is deeper and darker than it was when we met, but I love this sign of maturity on him.
“Got your legs?” I ask Percy, reaching out to steady him. The flight wasn’t long enough for his legs to go numb, but I always check anyway. I’ve never ridden dragonback before, what with being a dragon myself, but it’s pretty common for people to need a second to regain their balance after, no matter how many times they’ve done it.
“I’m good, thank you.” He smiles at me, then slides a glance over to where Steffen is just alighting on the lawn. “What we talked about the other day…”
“It’s fine,” I assure him. It’s likely he’s heard about the issues Stef had in the meeting, but maybe not the follow-up. “He’s fixed it.”
Percy nods. “Good. If there’s anything I can do, anytime…”
Once more, I have the strangest feeling that he knows. He can’t, though. Steffen and I have kept this secret for four thousand years. And if he knew, wouldn’t he come right out and say so? “Thank you. Things aren’t going as smoothly as usual, with this security scare. But we should be fine.”
It’s been nearly three days, but we’re not substantially closer to discovering who tried to hack my phone. CSG security narrowed it down to a shortlist, but none of those people have motive—or the knowledge—to attempt the breach. We’re currently split between wanting to closely interrogate them and wanting to watch them to see what happens next. Both sides have pros and cons, so it was decided to take the weekend to consider it.
