Dragon Deception by Mell Eight Read Free Book Online
Authors: Mell Eight
there was anything more to discover in the blasted basement anyway. Unless someone discovered a trap door that led to cells or a lab even further underground, Mercury was done searching.
He hopped up the ladder to avoid putting his knees in the mud climbing up the side of the basement and then jogged over to where Valerie was waiting impatiently with O'Simmons near the lone standing wall.
"There hasn't been dogfighting in this town ever and I don't expect there to be any now," O'Simmons was insisting to Valerie as Mercury got close enough to overhear.
"It smells like wet dog down there and I'm pretty sure the ring in the far room was where they fought them," Mercury interrupted. "You've got dogfighting in your town now. I thought this was supposed to be a bombed government facility?" he asked Valerie.
"Ex-government facility, and only through a technicality," she grumbled. "It was declassified thirty years ago and sold to a developer who went bankrupt before the property could be dealt with. We have no idea what squatters might have been doing with it in the meantime."
"Apparently they used it for a dog-fighting operation, blew it up, and put Quicksilver's catchphrase on the wall," Mercury muttered. He looked up at the lone wall and the paint staining it. "Maybe someone who likes dogs did it?" he asked jokingly.
"Or a werewolf?" Valerie added thoughtfully. Although their initial meeting had been terrible, Mercury didn't think she was a bad partner. She was just gruff and a little bit mean. He had a feeling her attitude had gotten her paired with the least capable of partners, Mercury included, and the worst assignments. Maybe she deserved it, Mercury thought unkindly with an awkward shuffle of his feet in the wet muck, but sometimes a bad reputation was also caused by bad luck. Maybe she didn't deserve it, Mercury insisted to himself. He stared down at his wet shoes, wondering if Chrome had ever returned his second pair so he had something dry to wear tomorrow. Everything was wet and yucky thanks to the firefighters' efforts to put out the fire. Mercury's shoes and pants cuffs were suffering.
Everything was wet from hose water, except for the paint.
Mercury rushed closer to the wall, staring incredulously up at the paint.
"What now?" Valerie sighed with exasperation in her voice. "I don't see any dog hair in the paint."
"Why isn't the paint washed away?" Mercury asked. "It couldn't have been dry by the time the firefighters arrived and the hoses should have been strong enough to wash at least some of it off."
"Yet, it's pristine," Valerie finished. She spun on O'Simmons. "When did you first notice the paint?" she asked sharply, her intense eyes pinning O'Simmons in place as if he were a bug on display.
"First the firefighters had to get the fire out, then the bomb squad had to clear what was left," O'Simmons hedged shiftily. "We didn't secure the scene until five o'clock this morning," he finally admitted.
"And the bombing occurred at, what? Six o'clock yesterday evening?" she continued scathingly. It had happened early enough to make the morning paper, Mercury knew, which should have been more than enough time for O'Simmons to take control. That he hadn't meant he was either incompetent or was colluding with the bomber or the impostor. "Which means the paint might have been added well after the bombing and you didn't have the scene secured enough to know?" She swore at O'Simmons and ran a hand through her hair, dislodging it from its hair tie. "So sometime after the firefighters finished putting out the burning building, someone entered the scene and added the paint."
"That's my guess," Mercury replied with a shrug. The curl of one letter was low enough that Mercury could touch it. How wet the paint still was would let them at least estimate at how long ago it had been added. Mercury reached upwards and felt the trap spring into action, magic igniting inside the paint to freeze his fingers in place.
"Uh-oh," he
He hopped up the ladder to avoid putting his knees in the mud climbing up the side of the basement and then jogged over to where Valerie was waiting impatiently with O'Simmons near the lone standing wall.
"There hasn't been dogfighting in this town ever and I don't expect there to be any now," O'Simmons was insisting to Valerie as Mercury got close enough to overhear.
"It smells like wet dog down there and I'm pretty sure the ring in the far room was where they fought them," Mercury interrupted. "You've got dogfighting in your town now. I thought this was supposed to be a bombed government facility?" he asked Valerie.
"Ex-government facility, and only through a technicality," she grumbled. "It was declassified thirty years ago and sold to a developer who went bankrupt before the property could be dealt with. We have no idea what squatters might have been doing with it in the meantime."
"Apparently they used it for a dog-fighting operation, blew it up, and put Quicksilver's catchphrase on the wall," Mercury muttered. He looked up at the lone wall and the paint staining it. "Maybe someone who likes dogs did it?" he asked jokingly.
"Or a werewolf?" Valerie added thoughtfully. Although their initial meeting had been terrible, Mercury didn't think she was a bad partner. She was just gruff and a little bit mean. He had a feeling her attitude had gotten her paired with the least capable of partners, Mercury included, and the worst assignments. Maybe she deserved it, Mercury thought unkindly with an awkward shuffle of his feet in the wet muck, but sometimes a bad reputation was also caused by bad luck. Maybe she didn't deserve it, Mercury insisted to himself. He stared down at his wet shoes, wondering if Chrome had ever returned his second pair so he had something dry to wear tomorrow. Everything was wet and yucky thanks to the firefighters' efforts to put out the fire. Mercury's shoes and pants cuffs were suffering.
Everything was wet from hose water, except for the paint.
Mercury rushed closer to the wall, staring incredulously up at the paint.
"What now?" Valerie sighed with exasperation in her voice. "I don't see any dog hair in the paint."
"Why isn't the paint washed away?" Mercury asked. "It couldn't have been dry by the time the firefighters arrived and the hoses should have been strong enough to wash at least some of it off."
"Yet, it's pristine," Valerie finished. She spun on O'Simmons. "When did you first notice the paint?" she asked sharply, her intense eyes pinning O'Simmons in place as if he were a bug on display.
"First the firefighters had to get the fire out, then the bomb squad had to clear what was left," O'Simmons hedged shiftily. "We didn't secure the scene until five o'clock this morning," he finally admitted.
"And the bombing occurred at, what? Six o'clock yesterday evening?" she continued scathingly. It had happened early enough to make the morning paper, Mercury knew, which should have been more than enough time for O'Simmons to take control. That he hadn't meant he was either incompetent or was colluding with the bomber or the impostor. "Which means the paint might have been added well after the bombing and you didn't have the scene secured enough to know?" She swore at O'Simmons and ran a hand through her hair, dislodging it from its hair tie. "So sometime after the firefighters finished putting out the burning building, someone entered the scene and added the paint."
"That's my guess," Mercury replied with a shrug. The curl of one letter was low enough that Mercury could touch it. How wet the paint still was would let them at least estimate at how long ago it had been added. Mercury reached upwards and felt the trap spring into action, magic igniting inside the paint to freeze his fingers in place.
"Uh-oh," he
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