Wormwood
stalks in the form of a dragon
When a dragon sheriff finds another dragon hunting in his valley, the law becomes personal.
Content Warnings: predatory violence, livestock death, blood and injury, territorial conflict, shifting (dragon and werewolf), mild body horror (transformation), rural law‑enforcement setting
Summary: When a rancher’s bull is taken, Sheriff Sarkany follows the scent into the mountains and finds the truth: another dragon has moved into Wormwood Valley. Shedding badge and skin, he drives the trespasser out in a brutal aerial fight, then returns home exhausted to his werewolf deputy and the town he protects. Just another night’s work for a dragon sheriff guarding his territory.
The dragon blinked its eye at me. I shook my head, realizing I’d been staring at Ashlyn’s tattoo too long. She had a delicate butterfly‑winged dragon on her bare arm. The blinking eye was just a trick of the light.
Or my own irritability.
Something had smelled off all day. I kept catching the barest trace of something on the wind — metallic and rotten at the same time. I suppressed another growl. It shouldn’t be here.
“Do you like it?” she asked, flexing her arm to reposition the tattoo.
“The artist is very talented.” I managed a smile for her, drained my coffee, and paid up.
Outside, the last purples of sunset were fading into the inky blue of night. I shifted my hand to rest on my gun and tapped my radio. “Jose, I’ve finished dinner.”
“Boss, you need to swing by the Herzfelds’.”
“What’s up?”
“They’ve got some missing cattle that ‘something’ grabbed.” I could hear the quotation marks around something even third‑hand, which explained why Jose hadn’t just handled it himself.
My stomach lurched. I wished I hadn’t eaten the meatloaf. I’d much rather be sitting outside the high school making sure the kids didn’t decide to drive home drunk after the dance. “Jose, call Georgia. Get her over to the high school.”
I drove to the Herzfeld ranch. They’d brought the dogs inside, and I could hear the horses — and even most of the cows — complaining in the barn. I caught the gleam of the cats’ eyes as they retreated to the safety of the loft. The foreign scent hung thick in the air here.
“Sheriff Sarkany.” The acrid scent of fear on both Harry and his wife burned the back of my throat. The bass note of gunpowder and gun oil did nothing to ease the cramping in my gut.
“Jose said you’re missing a cow.” I gestured toward the barn.
“Our bull.” Harry frowned, hesitation written plainly across his face. He didn’t want to say it directly.
“I was at the station all day, until I went to Alice’s for dinner, Harry. You can call Jose if you need to confirm.”
Relief chased the guilt in his eyes, and I sighed. I’d worked so hard to be accepted, and now I’d have to start over. “It carried him off.”
“Where was the bull pastured?” Inside, I was swearing in English and Hungarian. That bull had been fifteen hundred pounds of pure spite.
“Pasture behind the small barn.”
“Mind if I take a look?”
“You sure?”
“I’ll be fine. Enjoy your dinner.”
I crossed into the pasture Harry indicated. The smell of the bull’s blood made finding the site easy even in the dark. I traced the gouges in the soft earth, pacing the distance between each talon and the span between each leg. The swearing in my head increased a hundredfold.
He was big.
Morning found me hiking the last few miles into the pass. There were, of course, faster ways to reach my destination, but I’d lose valuable intelligence. He clearly intended to set up housekeeping on Bitter Springs. Trees were talon‑marked or razed.
He’d taken shelter in a cave.
“How medieval of you.” I stripped out of my shirt, shoes, tactical vest, and weapons, depositing them in the shelter of one of his marked trees. Then I asked, “What are you doing here? The territory is well marked.”
“I did not see any markings.” The voice rumbled from inside the cave, the echoes making it sound even more ominous.
“Then you weren’t looking.” I readied myself. I could hear him moving, shifting inside. He rushed out — all black scales, claws, and teeth. He meant to catch me mid‑shift, but I launched myself sideways. Letting my wings unfurl, golden and kissed with the pinks and oranges of early sunrise, I caught the air and lifted skyward.
He struggled to get airborne with his over‑full belly. I raked my talons along his sides, careful to avoid his wings. I wanted him gone, and a dragon who couldn’t fly would take longer to get out of my territory.
He turned his head to hiss at me, and I clamped my jaws over his snout. He whimpered as I shook him. His tail lashed in time with every shake. I kept clamping off his air supply. When he couldn’t keep up the fight, I released him. He tumbled back to earth, panting.
I harassed him to the border.
When I was satisfied he wouldn’t return, I turned back to the valley. I scooped up my belongings and flamed his. Then I flew the length and breadth of the valley, checking for signs of any other interloper. Finding none, I turned for home — for Wormwood.
As I landed, Jose’s voice came over the radio. “Hey, boss, we saw the flight. Do you need me to get the SUV?”
I snorted and jumped as I nearly caught my uniform pants on fire. I was still too worked up. One advantage of having a werewolf for a deputy was that he liked to run. Shifting back to human, I answered, “Please. It’s at mile marker 19.”
“Monica Herzfeld brought breakfast to the station. I’ll put yours in a cooler in the SUV.”
“Thanks, Jose. There should be a pair of sweats in the trunk.” I paused. “Did you get her the forms for the insurance?”
“Spoilsport. I was looking forward to scandalizing the city boys.” Jose laughed. “You think they’ll believe it was a golden eagle?”
Chuckling, I shook my head. I fumbled through my pockets for the front‑door key. After thirty‑six hours on, a fight, and a flight, I needed a nap. “See you tonight, Jose.”
