“And you’re an arrogant asshole, and there may be a dragon under this city. Now can we stop the dick waving and start figuring out how we’re going to deal with this? Or do I have to kiss you again?”
Dominic hesitated, making me wonder, for a brief second, whether he wanted to be kissed as much as I wanted to kiss him. Then he glowered, shaking his head. “Fine,” he said sullenly. “What do you suggest?”
“First off? I suggest we go and find the Madhura that lives in this area. She may know something.”
“The what?” He looked at me blankly.
I almost had to laugh at that. “Oh, man. For a big, bad dragon hunter, you sure have a lot to learn. Come on.”
We found our Madhura behind the counter of a tiny café called “Gingerbread Pudding.” She was a petite, attractive woman of Indian descent, wearing a sapphire blue T-shirt and a bright red apron embroidered with “Come catch me! Be a Gingerbread Fan!” Her thick black hair was bound into two long braids that dangled over her shoulders as she served a slab of dark brown gingerbread and a cup of hot chocolate to a customer, smiling all the while. The Madhura are attracted to sweet things. They thrive on honey the way dragon princesses thrive on gold, or bogeymen thrive on information. Working in a place that specialized in desserts was probably close to her inborn idea of Heaven.
Dominic eyed the Madhura with evident bewilderment as we waited for our turn to approach the counter, nostrils flaring slightly as he detected the distinct spiciness of her pheromones. A happy Madhura is close to irresistible. It’s part of what’s kept them alive for so long. “What is she?” he asked, voice pitched low.
“Madhura. They’re originally from the Indian subcontinent. They used to be worshiped as gods and goddesses of plenty, because they always knew where the honey was.” We took another step forward as the line advanced. “They’re harmless, they’re friendly, and they usually know what’s going on.”
His expression darkened. “I don’t believe we share the same definition of ‘harmless.’”
I dug an elbow into his side. “Just shut up and let me talk.”
He glared but fell silent as the last customer collected his purchases and went to take a seat, letting us step forward. The Madhura turned her smile in our direction, saying, “Welcome to Gingerbread Pudding. I’m Piyusha. What can I get for you today?”
“Whatever you think is good, and some information.” I did my best to look harmless as I offered a return smile, and said, “My name’s Verity Price. This is my … friend … Dominic. We wanted to talk to you, if we could.”
Piyusha’s smile froze in place as she glanced between us, finally saying, “Verity
“Yes. I’m trying to figure out what’s going on. Please?” Dominic was still glaring. I dug an elbow into his side. He grimaced. “I promise we won’t take up too much of your time.”
“All right.” Piyusha nodded toward a door marked “Employees Only.” “Head in the back. I’m going to get one of the other girls to take the counter, and I’ll be right with you.”
“Thanks a lot,” I said, and took Dominic’s hand, towing him along with me as I followed Piyusha’s instructions. The people who had been in line behind us grumbled darkly as she slipped out from behind the counter, leaving them temporarily without a server. The door between us and the café swung shut, and we were left alone.
Piyusha was true to her word: she came into the small employee break room about eight minutes later, carrying a tray loaded with two slices of frosted gingerbread, two large mugs of chocolate milk, and a small plate of graham crackers and honey. She took a seat across from us at the card table that dominated the break room, putting down her tray so that the gingerbread was oriented toward me and Dominic, while the crackers and honey were closer to her.
“Now,” she said, focusing her attention on me, “to what do I owe the honor of the attention of your family?”
“We want information about the dragon,” said Dominic, his tone barely short of rude.
Piyusha froze in the act of reaching for one of her graham crackers, simply staring at Dominic. Finally, she allowed her hand to drop to her lap and looked to me once more, asking politely, “Is he a member of your family, or is he a member of the Covenant?”
“The latter.” Seeing the burgeoning panic in her eyes, I added, “But he’s promised not to hunt anyone who helps us in our investigation unless they become an active threat to the local human community.” That was a transition that would mark them for a hunt by my family, as well as by the Covenant. No matter how much we may like a cryptid, once they start hunting people, they have to be put down. That’s part of the service we provide to the local ecology of the places we live.
Dominic glanced at me, frowning. I kicked him under the table. We’d discuss the promises he hadn’t actually made but was damn well going to adhere to later, after I’d calmed down our friendly neighborhood Madhura.
“I … see,” said Piyusha, relaxing marginally. She picked up one of her graham crackers, dipping it into the honey. “I’m not the most connected in this city. I work in a dessert café, y’know? But I do hear things, sometimes. Things that aren’t always all that nice.” She looked between us, still spinning her graham cracker in the honey. “You swear he’s not going to come back here and hunt me?”
“I swear. If he does, he’s the one endangering the ecosystem, not you.”
Piyusha relaxed further. “You should try your gingerbread. It’s really good. Secret café recipe, people have the stuff shipped all over the place, because you can’t get it anywhere else.”
“Cool. Thanks.” I picked up my fork, using it to slice off a sliver of gingerbread. Dominic grudgingly did the same.
That seemed to have been the last piece Piyusha needed to convince her that we weren’t intending to set her on fire. “Like I said, I’m not the most connected person around, but what I’ve heard is that not everyone who’s leaving is actually, y’know,
“Well, that happens,” I said. “Especially with news of the Covenant being in town getting out—”
“Does it usually happen with the lamia?”
That stopped me. The lamia are sort of like centaurs, if you expand your definition of “centaur” to include “body of the world’s biggest fucking snake.” They’re more clannish than the dragon princesses, with even better reason. They can’t blend in human society, and their endothermic metabolisms mean that they’re weak and disoriented whenever the weather gets too cold. “Safety in numbers” is the lamia creed … and no lamia I’ve ever known or read about would abandon their nest without a damn good reason.
Seeing my confusion, Piyusha pressed, “How about the hidebehinds? Four of them have disappeared.”
“How can you tell?” I asked automatically. Then I shook my head. “Sorry. That was flippant and speciesist. I just … why hasn’t anybody told me this?”
“Maybe because there’s a member of the Covenant in town? I mean, you brought him here. To me. You
“Madam, I assure you, I could have found you on my own,” said Dominic, frostily.
Piyusha met his eyes straight-on, squaring her shoulders. “Would you like to bet on that?”
“This is fun, but it’s not helpful,” I said. “Do the ones who’ve disappeared have anything in common? Species, geographic location, anything?”
“They were all female, and they were all unmarried or unmated,” said Piyusha. She worried her lip again, and then added, “Some went missing during the day, and some went missing at night. A few were regular customers. I’ve been thinking about getting out of town.”
“That just might be a good idea.” I pulled my wallet out of my bag and produced a business card, setting it on the tray next to her graham crackers and honey. “Call me if you need anything, or if you find anything else that might help us figure out what’s going on. If it really
“I’ll call you,” said Piyusha. Looking at her face, I could almost believe she meant it. She picked up the card, laughing nervously as she tucked it into her pocket. “My brothers aren’t going to believe that I met a real Price. Sunil’s convinced you people are just fairy tales.”
“We don’t get enough happily-ever-afters for that,” I said.
