Bramble Burn Read online

  Her bracelet buzzed, alerting her that she was done using magic today, in case she hadn’t noticed the spots before her eyes. Little walnut sized pots hung from the branches, and she drew a steadying breath, collecting a couple. They said “Willow Tree Balm” in dark letters on the shell. She unscrewed a lid and showed the crowd, who were watching her warily. “The leaves make headache/pain tea; the balm is for cuts, burns, bruises. Help yourself; it’s seasonal.”

  Kjetil put a hand under her elbow and led her to the truck. His men were alert, their silent werewolf forms a violent promise of trouble if the crowd turned ugly. She was grateful they’d decided she was fun to hang around with. Today could have been a very bad day, and she breathed deeply as she settled on the truck seat, calling for Twix to follow. The scenery slid sideways, and Kjetil handed her a bag with a sandwich.

  “Eat,” he said, sitting beside her. “We brought plenty, and you’re salt-white.”

  “Thanks,” she said, grateful for the roast beef. “Did you have fun?”

  He grinned. “There’s going to be a dog fight to follow when you plant trees. Everyone will want to go, if only to watch you work. That’s amazing stuff.”

  “You should see me fold laundry,” she joked.

  He sent her a chiding look. “You know it’s amazing. I’m surprised the elves aren’t wheedling for a chance to study your work.”

  She sighed. “I had an elf visitor. I think they’ll say something at the council meeting tomorrow.”

  “Are you going to be up for that?”

  “Sure.” She silently finished her sandwich, bone weary. She must have nodded off, for she woke when Kjetil gently shook her shoulder.

  “Your brother is outside,” he said, nodding out the window.

  She looked and saw Justin parked outside her gates. He got out of his car and leaned against it, managing to look disapproving and inconvenienced, even with sunglasses.

  She groaned.

  “You want me to send him away?” Kjetil offered.

  She shook her head. “He’d only come back. I have to do it.” She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and slid out of the hummer, using her staff as a walking stick. Boy, was she was tired. This was the last thing she needed today.

  “You look like crap,” Justin commented, still leaning on his car. “I’ve been waiting for over an hour. Where have you been?”

  “What do you want?” she growled. “It’s been a long day.”

  “I want to see your tree. Mom’s worried you’re living in a hellhole.” He nodded to the Iron Oak. “I’m supposed to reassure her.”

  Juniper struggled with her instincts, which said to keep him far from her house. Family duty had been drilled into her, and she might not like him, but he was her brother. Ugh. “Fine, but you’re not staying the night.”

  “I love you, too, sis,” he mocked, locking his door as he followed her to the tree. He glanced at Kjetil. “What’s he doing here?”

  “He’s a friend. The wolves have been hunting monsters for me; they like Bramble Burn,” she taunted. How easy it was to fall back into childhood roles. Why couldn’t she act like a grownup around him?

  “Werewolves?” Justin stopped and looked at Kjetil with alarm. “Does Indris know about this?”

  “I’m sure he will now,” she grumbled, glancing at Kjetil’s alert expression. “Indris is our dragon stepfather. He’s…protective.”

  Justin laughed as he stepped into her tree. “He’s going to crap bricks.” He looked around. “It’s not hideous.”

  “High praise,” she muttered as she took off Twix’s tack and sent him into his stable. She hung his tack on the saddle tree and closed the half door between the spaces. The mud had dried on her clothes and crinkled. All she wanted was to clean up and rest.

  “He sleeps in your tree?” Justin wrinkled his nose. “I’m surprised it doesn’t smell like a barn.”

  “The tree takes care of it,” she said, washing her hands. “You want a drink? There’s water or ice tea.”

  He grimaced and sat on a barstool. “Water. You know I hate tea.”

  She gave him and Kjetil both a glass. “I need a shower. You saw the tree.” She hoped he’d take the hint and leave. She glanced at the silent Kjetil, wondering if he’d help boot her brother out if needed.

  “I didn’t see upstairs. Why aren’t monsters breaking your glass?”

  He wasn’t going to leave without the full tour. What a pest. “I have shutters. Come see.” She led the way upstairs, her head throbbing. She waved a hand impatiently at the greenhouse. “See? Food. I won’t starve. I can see monsters coming and the shutters cover the glass at night. Tell her I won’t die.”

  “She wants pictures,” he said, snapping a few with his phone and texting them, presumably to her mother.

  Edgy, feeling protective of her space, she shooed him downstairs. “You saw my tree. Now if you don’t mind, I have a headache.”

  “Does he get to stay in the tree?” Justin asked, looking at Kjetil speculatively.

  “No one stays,” Kjetil said. He looked at Juniper. “We had fun today. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He looked pointedly at Justin.

  Justin sneered. “Yeah, always a pleasure, sis. Can’t wait to do this again.” His phone beeped, and he grinned. “Mom loves the pictures.” He didn’t close the door when he left.

  Kjetil watched him go, a predator in his eyes. The wolves Justin passed silently appraised him, a pack ready to rend. Their body language said this was their territory, and he was a trespasser.

  Juniper saw and chose to overlook it. Justin might sneer, but he wasn’t stupid enough to start something here. She didn’t have the reserves left to deal with it.

  Exhausted, she slumped against the counter and fumbled with her zipper, fighting weary tears when it got stuck. Today had been a mess, and she didn’t need this.

  “Here.” Kjetil brushed her hand away and took care of the sticky zipper, peeling away the heavy vest and hanging it on the closet rod by her bed.

  She unlaced her boots and toed them off, groaning softly with the effort. She’d sweep up the dried mud she’d tracked in later, but right now it would be all she could do to shower. “So I’ll see you tomorrow?” she asked, straightening. “Or are you working?”

  He smiled. “Working. I have to share the boar hunting, or the men grumble.”

  “We’ll run out of pigs eventually,” she said soberly. “I don’t know if they’re migrating in whatever dimension they come from, but logic says there can’t be an infinite supply. There’s bound to be something nastier come through sooner or later. Are you sure your wolves want that?”

  He grinned, his teeth sharp. “You don’t know wolves if you think we’d miss it. Get some rest. I’ll see you later.”

  The shower was lukewarm, as usual, but there was plenty of soap and water. She used one of the chestnut tree towels and threw on underwear and a t-shirt. She needed another battery, just in case. She hated being exhausted like this.

  She tried to think about the council meeting, considering scenarios and counter arguments, but sleep mugged her. She’d just have to deal with it tomorrow.

  “I’m sorry, but you can’t go in armed.”

  Juniper considered the security guard who wanted to take her staff. Technically, she was always armed, but he was doing his job. “Where would you like to store it?”

  “We have a weapons locker,” the guard said. “You can have it back when you leave.”

  She shrugged. “Fine, but I’ll have to put it there. Touching it would hurt you.” After her brother’s visit, she’d felt edgy. She’d put a mild anti-theft shock into the staff, and she wasn’t about to hand it over. She didn’t want anyone messing with her stuff.

  “I can’t do that, ma’am. No weapons past this point, and no one is supposed to see the locker except for authorized personal.”

  “Hm.” She looked around and noticed a potted tree in the lobby. Striding to it, she stuck the staff in the soil and merged the
staff with the tree, camouflaging it.

  “Hey!” the security officer said, hand on his gun as he approached. “Stop right there.”

  Juniper raised her hands. “It’s okay, I just stowed it for now. It won’t cause any trouble. Can I give you my gun now? I also have a knife. Two, actually. I use the pocket knife for opening packages and cutting string.” She kept her voice soothing, her posture relaxed and sincere. She wanted to make it to her appointment.

  She had to wait while the guard called his superior to hash it out, but finally she was seated at a long conference table in a large room as council members filed in. A secretary offered her a cup of coffee, and the mayor greeted her warmly, taking her a little aback. She’d been braced for an inquisition, and the friendliness was making her edgy.

  “Ah, Ms. Baily! Welcome,” a familiar blond elf in a business suit greeted her with evident delight. “I’ve looked forward to speaking with you again.” He bowed like a martial artist, eyes on hers.

  “I remember you, but I’m horrible with names,” Juniper admitted. “What was yours again?”

  His eyes flashed, making her think he was used to being remembered, but his smile remained. “Lord Thornshadow.”

  “Thank you. I need to write these things down,” she muttered. “Grandpa is horrible with names, too.”

  “Ah, yes. How is the Lord of Blue Wood?” the mayor asked, his manner paternal, as if they were old friends. There was something wary in his eyes, however. Her grandfather was a force, and the mayor knew it.

  “Fine, thanks.” She wasn’t going to say more than she absolutely had to until she knew what the agenda was, and she certainly didn’t want to discuss her family.

  A new man approached, his step graceful as predator. The dragon was a green, judging by the scales on his neck and the back of his hands. His talons were filed into smooth ovals for polite society, but no less deadly. His short hair was black-green, but his eyes were metallic bronze. He wore bronze and green leathers, which was what happened to dragon scales and wings in this form. Dragons could be naked if they chose, but it took an effort, and all the scales condensed in a diamond on the small of their back.

  Her sister hadn’t managed it until last summer; not that she had anyone to be naked for. Indris would incinerate anyone who tried.

  This dragon appeared in his late twenties or early thirties, but he could have been hundreds of years old. He looked her over with frank appreciation. “Juniper Rose Baily, daughter of Hsstat. Greetings.”

  She inclined her head. “And you are?”

  He smiled wolfishly. “Verbreaker, son of Shozan.” It was an impressive lineage, and a challenge. He was testing her education.

  “Son of the Skylord. You are his third born,” she said instantly, recalling Indris’s lessons. Lineage was important to dragons…and Verbreaker was unwed. Over a hundred years old, he was of age to take a mate. In fact, he may have outlived more than one wife, if he’d married humans, but she knew of no offspring. Young dragons were often encouraged to marry humans for their fertility, but the marriages weren’t considered as important as dragon to dragon matings. After all, a human had a short lifespan, so if it didn’t work out, it was good practice. Dragons always kept their vows, so if a human match was unsuitable, a few decades would take care of the problem.

  Verbreaker would find a fertile woman of her lineage very interesting. Dragons were all about power, and if they decided they wanted something, could be very hard to dissuade.

  “Hello, Juniper,” a familiar voice said over her shoulder.

  Juniper turned sharply and looked at Kjetil. He wore a pack military uniform, black with an officer’s red insignia. He noted her suspicion and inclined his head. “You look better than yesterday.”

  “You look like a council member,” she said with deep disapproval. Council spy, she suspected, and he’d been running freely in her park. Lovely.

  “I’m listed on the council rolls,” he said mildly. “Shall we sit? I believe we’re all here.”

  He held out her chair and sat next to her, ignoring her displeasure. She sat, her coffee parked in front of her in case she needed something to fiddle with. Meanwhile, her heel tapped the floor quietly, an outlet for her nerves.

  “Ms. Baily, I’d like to congratulate you. We’ve been monitoring your progress, and so far the park around your trees hasn’t moved an inch. I don’t mind telling you that no one thought it could be done.”

  “Oh?” She’d known that. They wouldn’t have given her such a sweet deal if they thought she’d had a prayer.

  “Yes. It was your grandfather’s letter of recommendation that persuaded us to give you a chance,” Kjetil said, his deep voice calm. “He has a great deal of influence in certain circles.”

  “What I want to know is, do you plan to make your park into another Blue Wood?” Verbreaker’s expression was keen, and his eyes glinted with banked fire. The Blue Wood had swallowed more than one dragon. He thought she might become dangerous, and it turned him on. That, or he wanted to eliminate her.

  “It would make you a power,” Thornshadow said smoothly. “If you succeed in anchoring the park, you’ll have quite a piece of real estate in the heart of the city. That alone would make you influential.”

  “A potential threat,” Verbreaker said bluntly. Dragons didn’t like beating around the bush; it came from having great big teeth.

  Juniper traced a pattern on the table, her temper pricked. “I’m already powerful,” she said, allowing Verbreaker to see the threat. She could bind him to his chair and spike him if she wished, or sprout a seed inside his ear that could root into his brain. He’d probably kill her before she finished, but she’d take him with her.

  Indris had taught her never to back down from a dragon if she wanted respect, but there was a line. “…but I won’t make war with someone who leaves me in peace. The Bramble is going to be a private park, not a weapon.”

  “The elves find your park fascinating,” Thornshadow said, leaning closer. “We know you’ve already made a deal with the wolves, and we’d love to study your trees as well.”

  “Why? I can’t teach you to make your own.” Power, like eye color, was something one was born with. Spells and such were the stuff of fantasy, but in reality, there was only power and skill. She could no more teach a person without the power to grow a tree than she could sprout wings.

  “True, but your park isn’t the only place with instability. If we study how your trees work, we might be able to magically replicate your methods. This world is far from tamed, and we need to work together to make it safer for all of us. Machines modeled on your trees could save lives.”

  “I see.”

  “We could talk about it further over lunch, discuss compensation,” Thornshadow offered.

  The rest of the meeting went like that, people striking deals, exchanging business cards. She had something they wanted and they had money. It was necessary, but she would have rather been home, playing in her greenhouse.

  It was a huge relief to escape and breathe the free air. She fetched Twix from the stable and tucked her rescued staff into the holder on his saddle, wishing, not for the first time, that there was a way to shrink it to a more manageable size. It wasn’t discreet and it got in the way, but she couldn’t think of a better design. If she had more time, maybe she’d consider a staff that broke into thirds and tucked into a back sheath or something clever. But how would she connect the battery for best flow? She wasn’t great at anything that smacked of electronics.

  “Bubba’s Barbeque Shack has money for you,” Kjetil said, derailing her thoughts.

  She blinked. Why was he talking to her? She was mad at him.

  “We’ve given a lot of the boar to charity and taken some for our families and friends, but there was a lot left over. Bubba’s bought it and made a nice profit. He’s looking forward to meeting you.”

  “You sold the pigs?” she asked slowly, trying to transition from escapist daydreams to the real wor
ld.

  “What did you think we were doing with the meat?” he asked curiously. His tone was light, but his gaze was watchful. He was playing her.

  Her eyes narrowed. “I know what you’re doing.” Still, Bubba’s was the premier BBQ joint in the state. Mm, BBQ. Smoked ribs falling off the bone, pulled pork sandwiches, burnt ends… Now she was hungry. She looked at him in frustration. “I know I’m caving, but it’s Bubba’s.”

  “It’s a good bribe,” he said sympathetically. “I understand it’s not my charm. You can be angry at me all you want.”

  “Thanks for permission,” she retorted as she mounted up. “I’ll meet you there.” Bubba’s was a twenty minute ride, and she could smell roasting meat blocks away. It looked like something from an old West set on the outside, complete with hitching posts and half whiskey barrels planted with herbs and flowers. Smoke from the giant smokers outside perfumed the air, making her salivate. The interior was open beams and stone block, the tables made of single slabs of heavily varnished wood. Kjetil was inside, talking to a big man he introduced as Bubba.

  “So this is the little lady I’ve heard so much about,” Bubba said, shaking her hand carefully with his big, leathery paw. In his early fifties, he looked surprisingly fit, as if he could wrestle steers in his spare time. He wore a black, short-sleeved buttoned shirt with his logo and practical jeans. “Your wild boar is a big hit.” He gestured to a black and white poster of one of the wolves posing by a dead boar.

  “Wow.” She gave him a wry smile. “Glad to hear it. I hear good things about this place.”

  “Hearsay,” he said with a grin. “What you need is a demonstration.”

  That’s how she ended up with a huge platter filled with samples of artisan sausage, ribs, pulled pork sliders, cornbread, baked beans and a dizzying sample of sides. Faced with more meat than she’d seen since the last holiday, she set to with gusto, moaning at the way the pulled pork melted in her mouth. “I love this sauce.”