How to Lose Your Dragon (The Immortality Curse Book 1) by Peter Glenn (beach read TXT) 📕

secret to how Mei’s Kahlua Mudslides were so creamy. Not that I’d tell anyone, of course.

“So, Rick, what was it you were trying to tell me on the phone earlier?” I asked him when the container was almost empty.

“Oh, that,” he said, licking his spoon clean. “It was about that cloth you’d given me. The one you took from someone’s dead body.”

Those last words were said with a bit too much judgement for my taste, but the ice cream served to keep my nerves calm.

“Let’s skip over that part. What about it?”

He frowned. “Can I see it again?”

“Oh, of course!” I rummaged around in my pocket and produced the cloth, then handed it to him.

“The inscription,” Rick said, adjusting the glasses on his face. “It struck me as particularly odd, given that the writing seemed recent. But in light of recent events…” his voice trailed off.

“Go on,” I implored.

“Well, it says, ‘To all who honor our queen, great rewards await you in this life eternal.’ There’s more on the back. Something about binding things together, but I hadn’t gotten very far on that part just yet.”

“‘To all who honor our queen?’” I repeated.

A sick feeling was starting to form in my gut as the disparate pieces were starting to all come together for me, but it wasn’t enough. Not yet. I needed more information to be sure.

I glanced down at my watch. It was ten o’clock. A little late in the night to do anything about it for now. True, I was on quite the time crunch. Three of my seventy-two hours had already been wasted, but I still had to be strategic about the whole thing.

“Yeah,” Rick said. “Weird, right? Who could they be talking about? There are few queens of note these days, and none of them are Irish. I couldn’t see any of them being behind assassination attempts of someone as lowly as me.”

“An excellent point, Rick,” I said, holding my spoon aloft. I pushed my earlier thoughts to the side. “And something we can talk about in more detail tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow?” Rick’s face soured. “Look, I appreciate you saving me and all, but like I said, I’m out of here first thing tomorrow morning. I’m too close to finishing my thesis to die at the end of some weird guy’s sword.”

For a moment, I wasn’t sure if he was referring to Lanky Guy or me in that sentence, but I supposed it didn’t really matter.

“Come on, Rick,” I pleaded. “We’re stuck in this together whether you like it or not. Think about it. They came after you. They couldn’t have known I’d be there to help you. In fact, they probably assumed I wouldn’t be. Whoever they are, they want you dead.” I puffed up my chest. “And like it or not, buddy, I’m the best defense you’ve got right now.”

He snubbed his nose at me and turned around. “I could just go to the cops, you know,” he said.

“The cops?” I scoffed. “And what would they do, exactly? Witnesses would have spotted you running away from the crime scene, too. They’d lock you away as an accomplice. Then where would you be?”

“Ugh!” Rick spun on his heels to face me, head fuming. “I hate it when you’re right.”

“Meh,” I replied, unable to hold back my grin. “Happens to lots of people.”

“Americans,” Yuri said, shaking his head. “You’re all crazy.”

Sevin just burst out laughing.

Rick’s face was beet red again, but he said nothing, and his shoulders finally went slack as the tension left his body. He stabbed his spoon into the ice cream container and grabbed the last of it, slowly licking his spoon and glaring at each of us in turn.

I shook my head a few times and went rummaging around in Mei’s cabinets again. That ice cream had hit the spot, but I needed something a bit stronger to fend off the night’s eccentricities.

There, on a lower shelf, I spotted my quarry near the back. My hands grasped the black bottle and pulled it out.

“What’s that?” Sevin asked, nose scrunched.

“Healing bourbon,” I said, grinning like an idiot.

“Non, mon ami!” Sevin said, raising a finger in warning. “Mei will kill you if you drink that! You must put it back!”

“Is expensive,” Yuri added, nodding. “Little man not smart.”

“Nonsense,” I chided, waving a hand at them dismissively. “She’s sure to forgive me for a little indiscretion after I save her life, right?”

All three of my companions were staring at me, shaking their heads. Rick included.

“Whatever.” I popped the cork and took a pull of the brownish liquid in spite of their glares.

I felt the magical brew go to work immediately. It was far from a cure-all - only a true magician had that kind of healing power - but it sure did a lot to take the edge off my numerous injuries. I could already feel my skin stitching itself back together and my bruises subside even from that one little sip. I took another drink.

After several long pulls on the bottle, I looked over my wounds. My stomach was still red from blood, but I couldn’t feel the cut anymore, and the fang marks on my arm had receded quite a bit. I couldn’t even feel the bruise on the back of my head anymore, and my legs were no longer burning and achy. Once my own restorative abilities kicked in, I should be right as rain.

Well, as right as I ever was. This was me we were talking about.

“So,” I said, putting the rest of the bourbon - maybe a quarter of a bottle - back in its hiding spot. I hiccupped once. “Anyone got any good ghost stories to lull the rest of us to sleep?”

“You want stories of ghost?” Yuri said, looking perplexed. “I will never understand Americans.”

I patted him on the shoulder. “It’s okay, big man. We don’t understand you, either.”

He gave me a broad smile.

“I have one,” it was Rick’s voice.

We all looked at the small man like he’d grown