The Witch Thief (Harlequin Nocturne) (7 page)

She slid out of the booth and dropped her hand to her side.

“Don’t be shy.” He wove his fingers through hers. “People will think you don’t like me.”

With a laugh, he led her toward the bar. The garm watched them approach. He didn’t look as if he was watching, but he was. He stood a little too still as he bent over to select a beer from the cooler and turned a little too slowly as he twisted off its lid and slid the bottle to the dark elf who had ordered it.

Once at the bar, Joarr waited.

The garm messed with something under the counter for a few minutes before looking up.

He was playing with Joarr, trying to establish dominance that would never exist.

Behind them a Svartalfar, a dark elf, who had entered the bar after Amma and Joarr, brushed up against the witch, copping a feel as he did. She spun, her hands opening and closing, reaching for magic no doubt. Thin lines sputtered from her fingertips. She stopped abruptly, cursing.

She glared at Joarr, no doubt letting him know she regretted using the magic she’d gained to help him fight the dwarves. Joarr hadn’t figured out that move yet himself. She could have joined with the dwarves, or at least ran while they kept him occupied, but instead she’d used the bit of magic she’d siphoned to save him.

It didn’t make him trust her. If anything it made him wonder about her even more. He couldn’t take her actions as what they appeared—support. She’d tricked him before; he wouldn’t let her again. And the coincidences…her saying she’d sold the chalice to a dwarf, then three dwarves attacking… It was a puzzle that was fitting together too neatly to be ignored.

Still dealing with the dark elf, Amma squared her shoulders and faced the drunken male head-on. Her hands were balled into fists at her sides, making Joarr guess she’d given up on magic for a more basic defense.

Pretending he was oblivious to what was happening, he watched the pair from the corner of his eye.

The Svartalfar made a purring noise deep in his throat. “What type of being be you, pretty?” He held up a hand. Joarr stiffened, thinking the dark elf was going to touch her…or try to. But instead something silver, a bracelet, glittered from his fingers. “A little gift,” he whispered.

Beings in the nine worlds, especially those who frequented portals, didn’t give gifts, not any without strings…sometimes deadly ones.

Amma made a sound of disinterest deep in her throat and turned. As she did, the dark elf moved closer. Another flash of silver, a weapon this time hidden in the Svartalfar’s hand. Bait and switch.

Too bad for the drunken dark elf, he hadn’t paid attention to what else lurked in the waters.

Joarr shoved Amma to the floor and shot frigid air over her head. The dark elf was so focused on Amma, so focused on whatever plans he had for her, he didn’t see the blast coming. He was still there, his hand still outstretched, the bracelet still dangling from his fingers, but now he was encased in solid ice.

Joarr ran two fingers along the sides of his mouth, knocking ice crystals to the floor beside her. “To stop any further confusion. This pretty is mine.”

Amma lay on the floor, shivering. From the beer-soaked wooden planks, she stared up at Joarr, then glanced to her right where the dark elf had been standing.

Joarr couldn’t tell if she was pleased or not.

Around them, the room cleared. Every patron took a step back or turned to study their drinks, the floor, anything except Joarr. He glanced around the room, checking for any other challengers.

If losing the chalice had weakened the dragons, these beings didn’t realize it. None even met his gaze.

He held out a hand to Amma. She ignored it, instead choosing to scramble to a stand by herself. Almost upright, she slipped and was forced to lean against him. He slid his arm around her, supporting her weight despite her sounds of protest. She was soft and warm. For a second, he forgot his suspicions.

Then he glanced down and saw the shine of silver in her hand—the dark elf’s weapon.

Chapter 7

T
he object was cold and heavy in Amma’s hand. She’d felt it beneath her when she fell and picked it up without thinking. Now she realized what it was—a weapon that the Svartalfar had been going to use against her—and why Joarr had shoved her to the ground.

She ran her thumb over the object’s smooth, round top. Thoughts raced through her head. Joarr had saved her, but she had saved him before, and if he hadn’t dragged her here, hadn’t refused to release a tiny bit of magic to her, she wouldn’t have needed saving at all. She felt a tiny knob, like the tip of a toothpick, protruding from the metal canister. Forcing herself not to think any more, not to let herself weaken, she pointed the object at Joarr.

Then she remembered the chalice. If she attacked Joarr, he would never trust her. She would never get close enough to the chalice to steal it and save it for her child.

She opened her palm and held out the weapon. “Thank you,” she said.

Joarr started, surprise clear in his eyes. But before he could reply, or move to take the weapon, the garm leaned across the bar and plucked it from her palm.

“No weapons near the portal.” He pulled out a bin and tossed the thing inside.

Joarr still watched her. She folded her hand closed and tapped her knuckles against her leg. She’d given up the weapon to buy his trust—that was all. Still, his analysis made her uncomfortable; she shifted her gaze to the end of the bar. A dwarf sat there, a hat pulled low over his face. She stiffened, and then forced herself to relax. Thousands of dwarves had to be traveling through the portal system; it made sense some would be here. It didn’t mean he was with the group that had attacked them.

Still, she kept track of him from the corner of her eye. When she looked back at Joarr, the dragon was watching her, then without warning he moved. She tensed, afraid he’d somehow read her motive, but he just reached past her and grabbed the bracelet from the frozen dark elf’s fingers. With a twist, he snapped it free. With one finger he coaxed her fist open and laid the silver bauble on top of her open palm. “He doesn’t need it.”

Amma stared at the jewelry, then back at the dragon. She couldn’t decide if she was angry or pleased. If he wanted to give her a gift, unlocking the manacles or letting go of a little magic would have been a lot more practical. And she had always prided herself on being practical. Still…she weighed the bracelet in her hand…no one had ever given her such a purely girly gift before. Her fingers folded closed over the bracelet, seemed unwilling to loosen. She told herself to toss the thing on the ground, but her fingers wouldn’t open. Annoyed with her reaction, she stared at her closed fist, but still couldn’t make herself let go of the bracelet.

Deciding to wait to decipher her emotions, she slipped the object into her pocket.

“Do you have business here?” the garm asked Joarr. The wolf-shape-shifter had waited patiently, bored really, while Joarr had disposed of the dark elf, only showing life when he took the weapon. Now he looked annoyed and suspicious…and his gaze was on Amma.

Realizing this was an opportunity, she stepped forward. “I do.” She glanced at Joarr, pretending to ask his permission. He raised a brow, but didn’t stop her. She leaned across the bar and whispered into the garm’s ear the coordinates for the portal that led to one of her sister’s homes.

The garm tilted his head and studied her for a second. “I can send you, but the place is empty. The witch that lived there disappeared, and her hellhounds are roaming free. Where have you been that you didn’t hear of it?”

Amma clamped her teeth together, hiding her shock.

“Really?” Joarr glanced at her. “Does this witch have any dwarf companions?”

Amma’s fingers tangled in her skirt. Her sister Lusse was missing, her hellhounds released. Something horrible had to have happened. Lusse would never have abandoned her kennel.

She stared at Joarr, keeping her gaze blank, although her mind was scrambling. Her other sister, the third in their triad, didn’t have a settled home like Lusse. Amma had no idea how to contact her, not one hundred years since their last meeting. Besides, while Lusse had never been exactly warm and loving, Huld was the definition of cold and calculating. She would, Amma had no doubt, sell Amma’s every secret for the smallest of profit.

If Lusse was missing, Amma truly had no one—except her secret. Her hand drifted back to her abdomen.

Joarr continued to watch her, his gaze hard.

To divert attention, she stiffened her shoulders and forced a scowl onto her face. “We were attacked outside, then again in here. You always run your portal like this?” She raised a brow.

The garm seemed unimpressed. “I thought I made it clear—I serve drinks and operate the portal. You’re worried about your safety, you should stay tucked in your little bed.” He turned back to Joarr. “You have another destination?”

After one last thoughtful glance at Amma, Joarr replied, “I thought perhaps you might have one for me. Is someone, somewhere, looking for a dragon?”

The garm cocked his head. “Dragons haven’t frequented the portals lately.”

Joarr sighed. “Not my older and wiser betters perhaps…but me? How could I resist all this charm?” He motioned to the room behind him and the disheveled patrons nursing their drinks.

The garm pulled a mug out from under the counter and filled it with beer. Without looking, he slid it down the length of the bar to the dwarf whom Amma had noticed earlier. If Joarr noticed the small being, he made no sign.

Looking back at Joarr, he said, “I don’t believe you’ve paid for your water yet, and a tip for the service. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to forget that.”

Joarr pulled a small sack from his pants pocket and slid it onto the bar.

The garm eyed the bag for a second, distrust clear on his face. After a sideways glance at the dragon, he pulled the tie loose and poured out the contents. Gold powder spilled across the wood. Surprise rounded his eyes. “This looks like—”

Joarr sighed. “Treasure. Yes, I’m sure it does. And being a dragon and all, I really shouldn’t part with it. Greed. Our fatal flaw, etcetera, etcetera.” He placed both hands flat on the bar top and leaned forward, pulling Amma forward, too, and revealing the manacles that attached them.

The garm glanced at the cuffs, but his expression gave away none of his thoughts.

Joarr tapped one finger on the wood. “So, are there any destinations I might be interested in visiting?”

The portal guardian turned his body to the side, blocking the dwarf’s view. “As it happens, something came across yesterday. Free passage for any dragon. You think you’d like to visit?”

Joarr smiled and reached for Amma’s hand.

The garm held up one hand. “This offer, it was for a dragon traveling alone—no other dragons, no…companions.”

The dragon’s eyes glittered. The scent of warm spice, a mix of cinnamon and clove, rolled off him, but he smiled and pulled out a second bag of gold.

The garm glanced at the bribe, but made no move to take it. “Being a portal guardian is an important role. I take it seriously—if I don’t there are a hundred other garm ready to step into my place.”

Joarr’s eyes flickered.

The garm crossed his arms over his chest. “Of course, this destination, it isn’t off-limits to anyone. Someone could come along and ask to go there, pay and I’d have to send him—” he glanced at Amma “—or her.”

Joarr made a growling noise deep in his throat. “And where would this destination be?”

The garm walked a few feet to his right and grabbed a dirty beer mug. “Now, that would fall under ‘restricted information.’”

“Then how—?” Joarr’s hand tightened around Amma’s; heat flowed from his palm. But his face remained calm and his posture relaxed. Still, she could feel an eruption coming.

“Perhaps,” she jumped in, “someone might say, send me where he went. Don’t change that dial, follow that horse, whatever verbiage she chose?”

The garm smiled. “Yes, I think that would work.”

He reached for the gold and dropped it into a drawer.

Joarr wrapped his fingers around Amma’s hand but made no move to walk around the bar to the portal.

Amma could sense tension thrumming through Joarr’s body. She knew the garm’s game had pushed him. She placed her hand on the dragon’s arm, then immediately, surprised at her own actions, pulled it away.

Her touch, however, seemed to calm him. He pulled another bag from his pocket.

He stepped forward, until he was staring directly into the garm’s eyes. “Are you sure this is the only option?”

The garm picked up his towel and tossed it on the bar top. “Completely.”

Joarr turned to Amma, his gaze sharp.

She held up her wrist, the one with the manacle. “You realize this wasn’t keeping me with you, don’t you? I am a witch. I know enough about magic to know that its spell was broken out there.” She nodded toward the door, to where they had fought off the dwarves. “You don’t fix that by bending a little metal.”

He frowned, and she smiled in return. He hadn’t repaired the magic in the shackles. In other words he’d underestimated her—always a good thing, for her.

Joarr turned back to the garm. “If you know dragons at all, you know I won’t need the portal to get back to you.”

The garm’s lips lifted on one side. “Are you insinuating I might cheat you? That there might be some reason you’d want to find me later?”

Joarr’s fingers tightened around Amma’s hand. “I’ve found it pays to be untrusting.” He tossed the bag of gold onto the bar. “Make sure she follows.”

The cold band of metal still around her wrist, Amma waited. She was afraid if she offered her hand to Joarr, acted too interested in having the manacle removed, he would change his mind and come up with some other way to get to wherever it was they were going.

Finally, when the garm was positioned next to the portal and Joarr was ready to step through, he grabbed her hand. “Will you run?” he asked.

“Perhaps,” she whispered. She didn’t know what made the truth fall from her lips. She hadn’t decided. She wanted the chalice, wanted anything that could insure her child’s safety, but Joarr scared her. The fact that she had passed up two opportunities to attack him and leave scared her.

He brushed her hair from her face and bent to whisper in her ear. “If you don’t, if you follow me and help me, we can work out a deal.” He blew hot then cool breath against her neck, sending shivers down her body. “I can make your time worth your while,” he finished.

He grabbed the chain in both hands and jerked it into two pieces.

Amma was free. She wrapped her fingers around the length of chain that hung from her wrist and watched Joarr walk through the portal, his head high and his shoulders square. She waited, expecting him to look back, but he just moved forward in total confidence.

When he was gone, when the portal had converted back to nothing but a mundane doorway, the garm looked at her. “Your passage is paid. Where would you like to go?”

She gripped the chain until her fingers ached, and stared at the doorway.