Collected (2 page)

His sneaky butt was mine to chew out—when I
learned how to get in.

I shouted instead.

“Whoever took my package needs to show
themselves.
Now
.”

Silence.

“You know, you just can’t take what doesn’t
belong to you.”

Would it be sad to admit I stood there for a
few minutes before I mustered the courage to get really pissed off?
How long had it been since I’d showed another supernatural creature
who was boss? A few months? Over a year?

“I’m going to give you ten seconds to come
out before I rip off your door—or whatever constitutes your
door—and shove it down your throat,” I belted out. “You
know
what I am and what I’m willing to do.”

One of the thick sheets of metal creaked the
slightest bit and parted, revealing three pairs of glowing eyes in
the darkness.

Should I huff and puff to blow the three
little piggies house down?

“You might as well come out.” I took a
confident step forward, even though my heels wobbled a bit in the
soft dirt.

The doorway opened even further, and a scaly
hand as brown as the mud around me appeared. The four fingered-claw
was deceptive though. Something far larger attached to that hand
emerged, or should I say, attempted to squeeze itself through the
door.

Three heads came first. Very slowly. Its body
was brown and thick, snakelike with tiny arms and legs attached.
For several sections, the tiny arms dragged out. My mighty foe
stopped twice to catch its breath—via two of the three heads. Based
on what I could see, since it’s rear end was still inside it’s
home, it was about the size of a giraffe. Something about this
creature tugged at my memories until everything clicked. My grandma
had told me about such things from her homeland. Even Bill had
mentioned a dragon or two had stopped by the store. None of the
zmee,
or Russian dragons Grandma had mentioned looked like
this one. This pudgy
zmee
had a better chance of taking down
a pizza delivery man than a light-footed werewolf.

It didn’t take long before I realized this
couldn’t be the creature that took my package. So what the hell was
going on?

“What do you want, Wolf?” Its third head
gasped out the words. Evidently, leaving its dwelling had
overwhelmed it. The second head was fast asleep, while the first
one stared me down with all the fierceness it could muster. A bit
of smoke drifted from its nostrils but not enough to even send a
smoke signal.

“You know what I want. There’s no need for us
to dance around the conversation,” I replied.

The oak tree above us rustled. My head
whipped up, and I scanned the tree line. Nothing moved, so I used
my nose. Something new had closed in to spy on us. Now that scent
was familiar. That creature was my target.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the
first head said. “This is private property. I have no quarrels with
the South Toms River pack, so I suggest you take your threat
somewhere else.”

This
zmee
was hiding something, so I
decided to play its game for a little while. Maybe the first and
third head would get tired like the second and give up.

“So you weren’t on my property this morning?
Even though I tracked a particular scent stinking of earth magic to
this very place?”

The third head did what could be considered a
shrug with a slight grin. “Even if you did have a good enough nose
to come find me, what makes you think you can take it back? It
rightfully
belongs to me.”

So there it is.
That sneaky little
bastard was the other bidder, and he thought that he deserved the
prize. We’d clashed back and forth online, with one person making a
bid, and then the other one immediately making a counter bid. At
first, I thought when I’d made a bid of around $200 that the other
zealous bidder would back off, but based on all the clutter I saw,
I had a worthy opponent who was just as eager as I was to own the
figurine.

“I’ve been waiting nine years for that kobold
to sell that thing. Hours and hours of research.” He gestured
upwards. “Nine months to get that nymph up there to go down to the
local Quick Trip and use a payphone to get that conniving house
sprite to auction it off.”

Even if I did have him to thank for the win,
I still got it fair and square. I also paid for it. “Well, thank
you very much,” I said. “Now give me back what I bought.”

Above us, the branches rustled. My gaze
drifted to the lithe, yet pale woman who sat on the tree above. She
must be the guardian for this area. She didn’t have on a stitch of
clothing, yet she appeared comfortable with the light breeze.

The
zmee
tried to slide forward, but
failed miserably. Then the third head jabbed the second with its
snout until it woke up. With a grunt and barely an eye open, the
second head inhaled to breathe out fire only to choke on its own
pitiful smoke.

“You can’t do anything right,” the first spat
at the third.

The third head snapped at the first. “At
least I do something. And I happen to be awake.”

The fight grew fierce as the second head,
most certainly offended by what the third one said, bit down on its
ear. “You dirty bastard.”

“Takes one to know one!”

“Fuck you.”

“You’re so full of it. Why not scare her off
with your fire-breathing skills?”

One body with three heads bitching at each
other was a sight. I watched with amusement, wishing for some
popcorn. I never got this kind of entertainment at work.

The heads finally noticed I was still
standing there. Then they made a rude gesture: they flipped me
off.

The third head said, “Why don’t you come take
it from me, Wolf? I only see you and me—an even fight.”

I folded my arms over my chest. “If you
fought me, you’d die from exhaustion.”

The
zmee
snorted. “I’ve been alive for
thousands of years. Talk is cheap, and so are your brand name
shoes.”

There went my sorry-ass bluff. Damn it.

A wolf would
never
walk away from a
situation like this. Especially if an overweight, barely
smoke-breathing dragon tried to sass them.

My fingers twitched, and the wolf inside
whined from indecision. There had to be a way to solve this without
fighting him. But then again, the dragon couldn’t go anywhere
anyway.

I searched through my purse until I found a
set of matches. Since I often enjoyed a warm fireplace in the
evening, matches came in handy. I waltzed over to a generous patch
of dead grass near the tree.

“You wouldn’t dare,” the nymph screeched from
above.

Now I didn’t need to tell them I wouldn’t set
the tree on fire, but I saw no reason why I couldn’t push my point.
I struck a match and waved it close to the ground. With a good
breeze going through this area, the grass would burn quickly. The
thick oak would be next. The nymph slid down from her high perch
but stopped on a lower-lying branch. She was tiny, no match for me
in werewolf form.

Now irate and angry, she spat curses to the
zmee
in a tongue I didn’t understand. Perhaps his lack of
mobility was a bit of a sore point between the two.

The
zmee
sputtered in my direction. “I
didn’t plan on keeping it. I only wanted some codes off them.”

My eyebrow rose, and I blew out the match.
“Codes? What are you talking about?”

“Codes that lead to a huge fortune—waiting to
be taken. That figurine is special. Right after the Millstadt woman
killed her husband with it, two warlock brothers bought it from the
original estate.”

Given my wry expression, I was sure he could
tell I wasn’t convinced. The second head had fallen asleep, again,
but the first became animated. “It’s all true. Over the past
century, Vladimir and Nikolai have fought over their family
fortune. They hid pieces of it from each other. Not too long ago,
their feud got heated and one brother killed the other. It was
gruesome, actually—”

“—get to the point.” Although he did have my
attention—slightly. I was curious since their names sounded
Russian.

“Oh, yes, the surviving brother thought his
sibling’s hidden stash was lost and gone forever—until he
discovered that his brother, who was a metalsmith and sculptor,
left behind codes on vases, figurines, and jewelry boxes. Pretty
much on everything he collected. These codes have to be a message
about where the money is hidden. Skeptics say it’s just a
leprechaun scam. But I’ve got a few codes, so I know there are
more. I’m going to get them
all
.”

After listening to the
zmee’s
story, I
felt kind of sorry for him. What did this guy have to do to finance
his code-hunting operation? An operation which most likely was a
fruitless one.

“Why don’t you march—umm—slide back into your
little house, get my property, scribble down your little codes, and
then give it back.” See? I could be nice when I tried.

“Now?”

My chest tightened as my anxiety rose. “No.
Yesterday evening.”

The first head’s voice turned into a whine.
“I can’t do it that fast. The codes are microscopic and hidden
under glamours. They’d require hours with my equipment.”

“Well, I paid for it, and I’m not waiting
here a few hours for you to do a full body cavity search on my
prize.”

“I’m more than willing to barter for time
with the Millstadt figurine.”

As if he had anything that would interest me
in this dump.

“Miss Stravinsky.” I raised my eyebrow at the
zmee
, and he cocked one of his heads. “I’ve seen your
username on the supernatural auction websites. I know what you
like. I’m sure you’d like something in my collection.”

My mouth moved before my common sense kicked
in. “Whatcha got?”

For the next couple of minutes, the
zmee
did an awkward backward movement to get into its house.
The urge to offer a push felt like the most polite thing I could
do, but who in their right mind got up close and personal with a
three-headed dragon to shove it into its house?

Eventually, the dragon got inside his home,
and I heard him rummaging around for several minutes. Above me, the
nymph continued to sit in the same spot, her hate projected at me
like poison-tipped arrows. Still not over me threatening to burn
down her tree, eh? Let her stew for now, she’d get an apology
before I left. It was the least I could do.

Eventually, the dragon reemerged and
stretched out in front of me again. Slowly, it opened the palm of
one of its many hands. Two items lay in the middle. The first item,
a papier-mâché boy, looked pretty good. Not a holiday trinket by
any means, but the craftsmanship was top notch. The piece didn’t
have any scratches and the painted face was done with a steady
hand. Very nice.

But the one on the left, another wooden
figure, made me almost squeal with delight. A beautiful nutcracker,
in pristine condition, wore a set of hand-sewn clothes. My
antiquarian eye told me he had to be over a hundred years old.
Tufts of white hair on his head matched his beard. With his massive
chompers, the figurine grinned mischievously at me, and I couldn’t
help but return the gesture.

He was so perfect. I reached out to touch
it.

But the
zmee
pulled its hand back.
“There’s something else I need—if you want something as valuable as
this nutcracker.”

“Keep talking.” He could ask for my salary
this month, and I’d probably give it up. Goodness gracious, that
nutcracker was gorgeous. A perfect addition to my collection. The
papier-mâché boy was just a bonus.

“I’d like another set of codes. They’re
engraved on the outside of an antique compass, circa 1713. The
owner won’t let me near them, and I can’t sneak in to take a high
resolution photo.”

This started to smell fishy. What kept him
from buying the compass?

“Where is this
owner
?”

“About two hours west of here. In a lumber
mill. It’s not hard to find at all since it’s in a display case in
the main building.” He shrugged as if anybody could march up to a
workplace unseen and snap a bunch of pictures.

“So no stealing? Just photos.”

“Yes, but with my special camera, of
course.”

For a second, I almost said no. But I
couldn’t help obsessing about the giddy feeling I got when I almost
touched the nutcracker’s coat. How soft it appeared. How clean. I
had to have it. With a voice that trembled at first, I replied, “As
long as you keep your part of the bargain, I’ll be back.”

* * * * *

Chapter Two

Driving to Pennsylvania: easy enough.
Casually pulling into the parking lot at the lumber mill outside of
Allentown: anyone could pull that off. But as I stared from the
massive building to the open expanse of concrete and cars, I felt
wary. This should be simple. All I had to do was stroll into the
lobby, approach the receptionist with a cheesy smile, and ask her
to take some photos of their glass displays. Any person off the
street who appeared mentally coherent should be able to do it.

As I walked around the cars, a thought came
to mind: Why hadn’t the dragon done this particular thing? Maybe
he’d tried to use the nymph to fetch it? The
zmee
could’ve
used another glamour to change the nymph’s appearance. Something
wasn’t right here.

The factory gate had been open when I drove
through, but the whole property had a ten-foot high fence. I
spotted enough security lights to rival a penitentiary.

The stench of chemicals made my nose wrinkle.
As I approached the complex, a bitter tang coursed through my
nostrils and raced down my tongue. Even at this distance, the loud
noises from the mill reverberated down my arms, making me twitchy.
With every step, my heels clicked on the sidewalk as I got closer
and closer. Workers, a few of them werewolves from the afternoon
shift, began to pour out of a side entrance to fill the parking
lot. The sweat from their labors added to my unease. They smelled
unclean—in a way I’d find hard to describe to someone with a poor
sense of smell like a human. It was something they couldn’t wash
off, no matter how much they scrubbed their skin.