Cloaked Campaign, page 13
“What is it?” Davyn asked.
“My car, apparently,” Reg said, shaking her head as she looked through the window at her parked vehicle. “He knew that it had been vandalized. He was worried.”
“How could he know that?”
Reg shook her head. “Telepathy, I guess. We’re bonded. He must have known when I found it. Sensed how upset I was.”
“That’s remarkable. You weren’t trying to reach out to him?”
“No. Why would I tell him something had happened to my car? There’s nothing he could do about it.”
“Well, no,” Davyn admitted. “I knew that the two of you used some telepathy to communicate, but I didn’t know you could reach each other over such distances.”
“I didn’t either. But I guess… I’m not that surprised.” She had used telepathy over long distances before. Sometimes just to see someone or watch what they were doing. Other times, when she had called someone to her remotely. Distances didn’t seem to matter, just how strong her connection was with the person—or creature—she was trying to reach.
“Well, hopefully, he’ll settle down now that he can see you’re all right.”
Reg nodded. “Yeah. I’m sure he’ll be fine. I’ll stick around for a while just to make sure, but then I need to head back home for my evening appointments.”
Davyn nodded. “Of course.”
Ember had been snuffling around the floor while they talked. When Reg finished, he thrust his snout into her palm but kept snorting and pulling away when she tried to scratch his ears or jaw.
“What?” Reg demanded. “What is it you want?”
But she realized before he even had a chance to put the thought into her head what it was he wanted. He wasn’t concerned with her well-being, since he could see that she was fine. A fire was already burning in the big fireplace.
“Oh!” She opened her shoulder bag and felt around for her change purse. It took a little longer than it should have for her to put her hands on it. She pulled it out and rattled it, making Ember bob up and down excitedly.
Davyn chuckled. “You spoil him.”
“I know.” Reg grinned. “I don’t have to worry about if it makes him act up later.”
She opened the change purse and spilled the coins into her hand. Ember took them from her one at a time, pinching each one between two claws and examining it before transferring it to his own palm. Once he had had them all, he galloped over to the stairs and glided into the basement. Reg could hear him adding each one to his pile of treasure and then scraping the pile together into the size and shape he wanted.
Davyn was looking at Reg with a frown. She checked the buttons on her shirt to make sure it wasn’t gaping open and ran her tongue over her front teeth for any remnants of her lunch. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You’re missing an earring, I think. Unless you meant them not to match…”
Reg touched both of her earlobes and discovered that Davyn was right. She was missing a hoop earring from her left ear. She patted her clothes to see if it had snagged on her shirt or slipped down inside it, but was sure she wouldn’t find it there. She hadn’t heard or felt it fall out, and the hoops were usually pretty secure once she had put them in. And that was the shoulder the dragon had been sitting on.
“Ember…!”
The sounds of coins clinking downstairs stopped.
“Ember, where’s my earring?”
There was silence for a moment and then the flapping of wings as Ember flew back up the staircase and landed at the top. If a lizard could look like the cat who swallowed the canary, Ember did. Reg laughed. “Did you put it into your treasure pile already?”
Ember snorted softly. Reg studied him and saw the hoop around his wrist like a bracelet. She had never known dragons might actually use the valuables they stole, but apparently this one did.
“That’s mine. You need to give it back.”
Ember made no indication that he planned to do so, though Reg was sure he understood what she was telling him. And Reg wasn’t going to try to take it from him by force. Once a dragon had a treasure, it was best not to take it from him without an army to back her up.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Ember’s head suddenly whipped around to look at Reg’s car parked outside the house. Reg wasn’t sure why until she saw another car coming down the gravel road toward them. She shifted uneasily. Davyn hadn’t told her that anyone else would be coming over. They had been keeping Ember’s presence there as quiet as possible, so it was not likely that he had invited anyone. While firedrakes were a protected species, that didn’t guarantee that the villagers would not panic at some point and come after him with torches and pitchforks. Or something far more deadly.
“Do you know who that is?” she asked Davyn.
He gazed at the car. “I’m not sure. I think I’ve seen the vehicle before, but I can’t place it…”
The car pulled over and, in a moment, a witch had opened the door and walked up the path toward the house. And Reg didn’t need to be told who it was. She recognized the shining dark locks and perfect posture.
Verity.
“What does she want?” Reg hissed. She flapped her hands in Ember’s direction. “Come on, let’s go down to your lair. Let Davyn talk to the woman.”
Verity was probably just coming to talk to Davyn to get advice on some topic or another. She didn’t know about Ember. She didn’t have suspicions about his existence. They had been careful.
Verity stopped and looked at Reg’s car. Maybe trying to figure out whose it was and why it had been covered with faded writing and symbols. She would know that it wasn’t Davyn’s. No one would disrespect the leader of a coven that way.
Ember avoided Reg and her attempts to herd him downstairs again. He drew back, hissing at her, and darted to the side to avoid being cornered.
“It’s okay,” Reg told him. She tried to build a picture of Ember lying quietly on top of his pile of loot, warm and secure in the basement, while Davyn dealt with Verity upstairs. “Come on. We’d better go guard your treasure.”
Ember hissed again as Reg pressed closer to him, trying anxiously to get him to go back down the stairs. Verity was already at the door, knocking briskly and then opening it, calling out a friendly “Hello?” to warn them of her arrival.
Davyn looked at Reg, still trying to wrangle the dragon downstairs. It was obvious she wasn’t having much success. He shook his head. “We knew we wouldn’t be able to keep him a secret forever.”
Reg sighed and left Ember alone. Davyn was right. It wouldn’t be possible to keep a growing dragon hidden from the public much longer anyway. Someone was bound to see him flying around. They couldn’t keep him locked up in the basement.
Verity walked into the room. Her eyes were drawn first to the blazing fire, then to Davyn, and lastly to Reg and the form behind her.
“Oh!” Her mouth stayed in the shape of an O for a few seconds, clearly surprised. She blinked. “A dragon.”
Reg and Davyn exchanged anxious glances.
“Yes,” Davyn confirmed matter-of-factly. “A firedrake.”
Verity was staring at Ember. “A young one.”
“A dragonlet. A few weeks old.”
Verity blinked, still not believing her eyes. “Where did it come from? Why haven’t I heard about this in town?”
“You’re the first outsider to see him. There are only a very few people who know about him.”
“How do you think you’re going to be able to keep him a secret?”
“I was just saying before you came in,” Davyn said, a note of humor in his voice, “that we will not be able to keep it a secret much longer.”
“I don’t know how you’ve kept it a secret until now.”
“To be honest, neither do I. The neighbors have probably seen him flying. Maybe they didn’t know or believe what they were seeing.”
Ember was approaching Verity slowly, his head low to the ground as he crept up on her. Reg watched with amusement, wondering if Ember thought he was being covert and Verity wouldn’t notice his approach.
“What are you going to do with it?” Verity demanded.
Davyn raised his brows. “Do with it?”
“Are you going to cage it as it gets bigger? What are you going to do when it starts hunting? It could devastate the town in a day.”
“He’s not going to be caged,” Reg said firmly.
Verity glanced at her, then looked away again as if Reg’s words meant nothing to her. As if Reg were no more important than a piece of furniture.
“You will need to do something,” she affirmed to Davyn. “You must have a plan.”
“It’s really none of your business,” Davyn said mildly. “It’s our responsibility, not yours.”
“I think if a dragon is flying around the county loose, it’s just as much my business as anyone else’s.”
“He isn’t flying around the county. He flies over my property. He hasn’t gone anywhere else.”
Verity shook her head, scowling.
Ember was within feet of Verity. He suddenly reared up on his hind legs and raised his head to be at eye level with her. Verity startled, then laughed.
“You’re quite the little fellow, aren’t you?”
Ember danced around on his hind legs for a few seconds, then dropped back to the ground. He circled Verity, rubbing against her legs like a cat. Davyn shook his head. Verity’s hands were held up high, like she didn’t know what to do with them. Whether she should pet Ember or would need to defend herself against attack.
“He likes his ears scratched,” Reg told her.
Verity reached down tentatively, holding her hand close to Ember’s snout to allow him to smell her. He nudged her hand, sliding his head under it so that she was properly positioned to scratch his ears as Reg had suggested.
“Does he understand English?” Verity asked in surprise, scratching his thin, leathery ears around the base.
“Some,” Reg said. “He’s learning. And I can… communicate with him in other ways.”
Verity looked at Reg again, more thoughtfully this time. Like maybe Reg was someone that she needed to be aware of. Not just an interfering psychic of no consequence.
“But you didn’t come here about the dragon,” Davyn observed. “What can I help you with?”
Verity stroked Ember’s head a few times, then looked at Davyn. “It’s about your coven.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Davyn nodded, looking resigned. Reg wondered how many times Davyn had been visited like this by people who wanted his ear on something to do with the coven. Something that was none of their business, yet he still needed to remain pleasant and appear cooperative. To be the public face of the coven. “Yes?”
Verity looked at Reg, expecting her to leave. Or for Davyn to kick her out. “This really is a private matter.”
“I don’t see how that can be,” Davyn countered. “You don’t have anything to do with the coven.”
“Well…” Verity frowned, trying to figure out how to get Reg out of the room so she could speak with Davyn privately. “I have some thoughts about the coven membership and rules.”
“Policy isn’t a private matter. And I’ve already told you that we will not be opening membership to female witches. I’m sorry. That’s the decision of the coven. They wish to remain male-only membership.”
“It’s sexist. It’s prejudiced. Exclusionary. A coven should be open to all. Give everyone the same opportunities.”
“In fact, it is not open to all. We are quite careful about who we allow to join the coven. Even the warlocks who wish to join go through a probationary period. If things do not go well during that period, if they are found not to fit or not to have the attitudes that will most benefit the coven… then they are not allowed to stay.”
“That’s unfair.”
Davyn raised his brows and shrugged. “Perhaps it is. You are welcome to see what the membership requirements are for other covens in and around Black Sands. There are a few of them. Several women’s covens.”
“I don’t want to join one of the women’s covens.”
Davyn shrugged. “And no one is going to make you. You can choose to join a coven or not join a coven as you please. But you cannot join one that excludes female membership.”
“You need to get with the times. You are living in the dark ages.”
Reg had made the same accusation more than once. Not because she wanted to join the coven, but because of their archaic views toward women and just about everything else. They were stuck in the past and needed to make significant changes. Not allowing a power drinker to become the leader of the coven, though. That was a change in the wrong direction. But they needed to update their policies in other ways and force the warlocks to change their outdated viewpoints on women and their roles. On equality and self-governance. Even if, like Corvin, they had grown up in a time when women were treated as chattel and expected to stay home to keep house and raise children; that was in the past, and they needed to reform.
“Our policies are reviewed regularly. If there comes a time when the coven considers allowing women to join, I will let you know.”
Verity shook her head, expression sour. “That is not acceptable.”
But what was she going to do about it? Who was she going to call and complain that Davyn or his coven were not being fair in their membership policies? As far as Reg knew, they were not governed by any higher authority. The coven was self-governing and was allowed to make whatever rules and policies on membership they pleased, as long as it didn’t put them in conflict with the law. Even then, she wasn’t sure who would win out. It wasn’t like anyone would be running to the police, or that they would be believed or taken seriously by the non-magical authorities.
Ember nosed at Verity, trying to get her attention. Verity looked down at him, shaking her head. “What is it? What does he want?”
“Do you have any coins?” Reg asked. “He really likes collecting treasure.”
Verity looked at Reg for a moment. Then she reached for her purse, much smaller than Reg’s big shoulder bag. She put her hands on a change purse with a clasp almost immediately. She opened it and picked out a few coins for Ember. Ember pranced and bobbed his head, waiting for them. Verity held them out to him. As usual, he took them one at a time, examining each closely before accepting it and then, when she had given him all of them, he ran to the basement door and glided down the stairway. Verity shook her head, eyes amused.
“Someday, he won’t be satisfied with pocket change.”
Reg nodded her acknowledgment. She could already see that, with Ember stealing her earring and a few other trinkets lately. That was what dragons did, and you might just as well try to stop a raven from collecting glittery things.
“What about these antiquated measures that restrict your newest members’ participation?” Verity challenged Davyn.
Reg could hear Ember’s coins clinking in the background.
“Antiquated measures?” Davyn repeated.
“All of these restrictions. Background checks and being expected to serve the coven with nothing in return, not even membership, if you decide the warlock is not suitable.”
“Antiquated,” Davyn said again. He shook his head. “Checking someone’s pedigree and expecting them to pass a probationary period is antiquated?”
“Yes. Certainly. What happens to the warlocks that you reject? Warlocks who may have spent a year or two, or more, serving and participating in your rituals, just to be denied membership?”
“Not everyone is suited to this life. It is much better to allow them a graceful exit than to leave them no way out or embarrass them. There are those who think they are up to being a member of the coven, but then find they are not comfortable with it, cannot make the commitments that we expect them to make, don’t get along with others, or a myriad of other things that make them choose to abandon the plan to become a member.”
“But you don’t allow those neophytes to use their powers, to fully express themselves. You expect them to hold back. You don’t allow them a vote on serious issues. They are second-class citizens.”
Davyn went over to the fireplace and opened the door. He walked in and prodded the logs left in the fire, pushing them closer together and stirring up the embers. He returned to the room, shutting the fireplace doors once more.
“Neophytes are trainees,” he said slowly. “We don’t hold them back, but we expect them to consider the needs of the others in the coven, just as we expect full members to do. They need to prove themselves and their abilities, their focus, their consideration of others’ rights and feelings. A coven is much more intimate than… a craft club. The parts must work together, and the members must be able to trust each other.”
Verity folded her arms across her chest, her lips pinched together, and she stared at Davyn resentfully. “It’s nothing more than an old boys’ club.”
“Then why would you want to join it?” Davyn asked mildly.
“In order to change it. To make it into what it could be.” She shook her head. “It is one of the oldest, most prestigious covens in the country, and it has become nothing but a blot on the name of warlocks.”
Davyn said nothing to this. Reg waited to see if he would defend the coven, but he did not. Verity had already made up her mind, and Davyn wasn’t in a position to allow her into the coven, no matter what her reasons were.
Verity’s face flushed red while she waited for a response. When it became clear that Davyn was finished and there would be no more explanation or discussion of the matter, she whirled around and headed toward the door.
“You will regret this decision. I came to you to discuss the matter reasonably. To set it out before you and suggest possible remedies. Everybody will know how unreasonable you have been. How sexist and exclusionary your coven is. And things will change!”
Reg was holding herself stiff, fully expecting light bulbs to pop, glasses to break, maybe even for Davyn to break out in boils or some other malady. Verity’s anger was electric. It was palpable. But without causing any mayhem, she banged through the door and slammed it behind her.
