Issue # 3 - A Shattered Clasp

A Shattered Clasp


*~~~~*

The vodka cascades down his throat, burning and numbing simultaneously. Fire and ice, heaven and hell. So very much like him Mikel admits as he places the empty tumbler back to the gummy tabletop keeping a cool appraisal of the messenger patiently picking at imaginary lint on his western style suit.
The man stuck out like the proverbial sore thumb despite his attempt to appear one of the masses.

“Which one holds your leash?” Mikel inquires folding his arms over the back of the seat. He notes the tic that works the man`s left eye at his pointed question.

“I was told to expect an attitude,” he counters with a touch of ire.” Let`s just say no-one holds my leash!”

“Is the terminology that important?” Mikel asks feeling the presence of Ephra behind him. His tablemate skirts a fast look up at the blond behind the Guardian, her hand coming to rest possessively on Rayvenwing`s shoulder. The music has ebbed as last call echoes through the club.”Any male that wears the mark of a dragon mistress willingly is a pet. No different than a pretentious peke-a-poo who humps their owner’s leg for attention.”

“And who humps your leg Rayvenwing?”

Ephra draws in a sharp breath, her long nails gouging into the damp leather of Mikel`s coat as she begins to whisper the beginning of a charm. Mikel turns to look up at her murmuring both a warning and an order. She spins on a thin heel, stalking off as the Guardian had bid. His attention leaps back to the smug male opposite him.

“I shall say this only once. Who humps who is no concern of yours slave! Should your tongue work up another cutting comment aimed at the witch I will teach you the manners your dark mistress obviously has not,” Rayvenwing growls menacingly.” Now relay the message for my patience is gone.”

“As you wish Gate Guardian,” his head drops a millimeter in a feigned show of respect.”My employer,” Mikel snorts at the term,” My employer wishes to speak with you. She has news about the weakening of the gates.”

“The gates are fine.”

At that the man snickers before taking a sip of his martini and letting his orange eyes rove over a trio of dancers that move past in thick parka`s and knitted caps. “You would of course say that. It IS your job to make sure the gates to the lower realms are secure and to eliminate any that may squeeze through. But should you allow your massive ego to blind you to what you have surely seen over the past few months?”

The Guardian seethes inwardly at the painfully true words. “When and where?” Mikel grinds out.

“Tomorrow at midnight. She will come to your home.”

That`s all the information Mikel needs for only one dragon mistress knows where his sanctuary is.

Vestra.