The Infamous Beast

by T Shadow

  Remi sits her scaly butt on her haunches. Waiting patiently yet slowly calculating. The first to stir is Finnegan, but I’m sure that’s because he was further away and felt less of Remi’s magical juju. Leland is a close second, but considering he’s the youngest, I wouldn’t be surprised if her spell hit him the worst.

  His sapphire orbs flicker open almost as if they’re adjusting to the sun, which is quite ironic, considering it’s been a couple of hours and we’re rapidly approaching night-time. Although I suppose Remi’s spell doesn’t allow you to wake up naturally, as though you were waking up from a power nap, rather, it’s like coming down from an amazing high, and when the giant pink elephants start dropping like flies around you reality kicks you in the teeth with a bad wake-up call.

  First comes the unusual settings, the uncertainty, and the confusion. Then clarity and basic motor skills, understanding follows, and the final step of reality is the ability to fully comprehend what the fuck is going on. Similar to the five stages of dying, but I call this The-unknown-amount-of-stages-of-coming-down-from-Remi’s-mindfuck. What was that film where they described the five stages of drugs? Oh yeah, 21 Jump Street, number one— the giggs, number two— trippin’ major ballsack, number three— over-falsity of confidence, number four— trippin’ major ballsack and number five— asleepyness.

  So it’s kinda like that, but not really. Finn looks like he’s at the stage where he’s able to understand but not just yet. He’s looking at Remi like she isn’t really there, as if she herself is a figment of the imagination. Moving closer to her, I put my hand on her shoulder before addressing him, “Evening, Finnegan O’Shea, formerly of Ireland, how are you feeling? Thoroughly fucked up?”

  “Wait… w-what happened?”

  “Don’t start stuttering, otherwise you’ll start sounding like Leland. You don’t remember what happened?”

  “We were all talking, and then Remi was…” he drifts out of consciousness before looking around the room, panicked. “Wait, where’s Remi?”

  Remi and I exchange a ‘WTF’ look. Like, hello dickheads, shes right fucking there. Turning back to Finnegan, I can only express my most simplest of thoughts. “Uhm, I mean, she’s still here…” Okay, so maybe I don’t want to give all of her secrets away.

  “The only people that are here are my comrades, Lucius, you and that… really large… white sparkly dragon. Wait, is that real or not? Cause iridescent dragon’s are a thing of myth… the last recorded one was over a thousand years ago...” He gets lost in thought for a second, “Wait, what the fuck did you drug me with, that LSD bullshit?”

  “Uh… No? Why would we spike you with LSD, and regardless if we did, you wouldn’t have fallen asleep from it.”

  The big white dragon nods alongside me and when Finn finally notices her moving, he seems to realise that she is a corporeal being and not some random figment of the mind. You know when you see the shock morph on someone’s face, but it’s in slow motion like the cartoons? That’s what’s happening to Finnegan when Remington starts to stir.

  I feel an existential crisis coming on, one where a scholar is faced with a disturbing reality that he didn’t expect. I’m waiting for Remington to literally shit his pants when he wakes up and realises he’s not the biggest baddie in the world anymore.

  I can feel impatience radiating from Remi like heat from a volcano— it’s coming off of her in waves. Patience was never her strongest suit in any situation, let alone during interrogations. It’s only seconds before she opens her own maw and starts speaking for herself, and you may think I’m joking, but she really can speak in dragon form, she just chooses not too, considering it’s a tad weird.

  Remi’s humour is about to come to fruition, we wait eagerly for Remington to stir which takes longer than someone waking up from surgery. The smallest tether that was stretched thin inside her has snapped, and she roars at them like a woman scorned. Her beastly wake up call echoes throughout the room and rattles the walls like an over zealous child with a handmade maraca. Unbearable, unwanted and inescapable.

  The rumble shakes all of them awake and that’s fine, because Finn starts chuckling at the face paint that alpha-asshole and prick-face are wearing. Leland however goes from asleep to awake in a matter of seconds and he shits himself at the unmoving fox that still claims his lap as his new favourite nap place. I’m surprised he didn’t move throughout the whole endeavour.

  Remi and I sit back as we survey the controlled chaos we’ve created. Finnegan is trying, yet failing to not laugh at the dick face drawings that Remi decorated two of the guys with. Landon is subtly trying not to laugh too loud whilst Leland freaks out about Lucius on his lap, Remington however, sits as stoic as possible, and why you ask? I’m sorry, but did we forget about the big, fat elephant in the room? Or, dragon, rather?

  God, I sound like one of those TV shows with the continuous rambling monologue, but that’s fine, you wanted a play-by-play right? Gosh, I feel like I’m the only individual capable of rational thought right now. Maybe, maybe not, hm?

  Leland is panicking like a cat who accidentally fell in the bathtub, except there’s no escape when the creature you’re trying to escape shows no signs of moving and you’re tied to a chair. I fully expect the subtle digging of claws to push the point home that Lucius is not to be fucked with— fox or not, that won’t stop the vermin. Joint fourth places are both staring at Remi in open shock still. It seems as if Remi’s ability to knock someone out with high frequencies hasn’t worn off just yet, and Finn is trying to comprehend the dragon whilst trying not to laugh hysterically at her artistic flair.

  Could this day get any worse, or better, rather?

  “Boys, could we focus on the issue at hand here, rather than entertain your meltdowns for any longer.”

  Remi gives me this look that says ‘I can only stand to suffer these imbeciles for so long’ and I roll my eyes in response, conveying that I am also done with their shit. Thankfully, I don’t have to sit with these idiots for a large amount of time, because I’ve lost enough precious minutes already. I knew there was a reason I liked women instead.

  “Am I still fucked up, or is that an iridescent dragon? They don’t exist anymore.”

  “Well they clearly do!” Landon roars, his body straining against the binds. “There’s one sitting right fucking there you twat!” As he attempts to free himself from the meticulous ropes, he rocks his chair viciously, tearing up blood red carpet fibres. Finn however, takes the calm sea cucumber approach. Am I surprised? Not really.

  “I’m sure if you stopped tearing up the carpet for a second, Mika could explain what’s going on.” Pointedly, he turns those dark blues on me, spearing me with a look, “could you, Mika? Preferably before Leland has a panic attack.”

  He’s right, Leland’s currently hyperventilating at the mere closeness of another animal. I know what they feel like, it’s the blackness that surrounds you and chokes you with invisible hands around your throat. Knowing the symptoms, I go over to Lucius and stroke his head and he begins to rumble. It calms Leland ever so slightly, but it’s a significant enough difference that even I take a relieved breath.

  “I’m sure now that Leland will be fine, not that anything bad is going to happen.”

  “Can you cut us loose then?”

  “Unfortunately not.”

  “Why not!” It’s a question, but Landon shouts, yet again.

  “Because it’s imperative that you listen.”

  “I’m not fucking listening to you!”

  “No,” Remi grumbles from that beastly throat of hers, “you might not listen to Mika, but you’re gonna listen to me, you fucking gobshite.”

  Oops, no one likes a dragon scorned.

  Okay, so obviously these people have never heard a fucking dragon talk before— bloody amateurs. But I’m livid. So fucking livid. I’ve been stared at— for God knows how long, like I’m a fucking creature from an alien planet. I mean, they’re technically not wrong, but I’m not focu
sing on that right now. Why? Did I forget to mention that I was livid before?

  In this gargantuan body of mine, I’m unable to fully express my distate without burning the fucking Hotel down to the ground. The twins and I are on good speaking terms, but I don’t think they’d ever forgive me if I burned down their pride and joy. But maybe I should burn it down, considering the whole Hotel needs a new makeover, maybe they’d see it from my perspective in the long run?

  The blood, fire engine and postbox mix match of reds in this suite assaulted my eyes from the second that I stepped inside and opened them. Reptilian eyes have that extra layer to protect them because we don’t have eyelids, but nothing can protect me from poor design taste or ignorant, naive younger dragons.

  Although, the younger dragons probably need protecting from me, rather than I, them. All four of them are still sitting where I left them, not that they can move— jaws slightly open, eyes wide and their skin has gone from angry flushed to ghostly white. Is that my fault? Maybe. Do I care? No.

  Mika stands at my side, shaking her head as if she’s embarrassed by what I said. “What, was it something I said?” I rasp.

  “Maybe not what you said, but rather how you said it.”

  “I can’t exactly convey any other emotion except the old fire-breathing beast right now.”

  “That’s not what I mean…”

  “Wait, why the fuck does she sound exactly like Remi?” Remington interjects, confused as fuck.

  Mika goes to open her mouth to answer him, but I’ve had enough of people who think they can ask questions that demand answers. I probably had enough of self-entitled assholes years ago, but there’s no reason why I shouldn’t uphold my beliefs. Assholes suck… ass.

  “Eloquent as ever, I see.”

  Don’t mock us, we are one… remember?

  “In many ways, but our opinions differ when it comes to ourselves.”

  “They sound the same because they are the same.” Mika answers for me. “The same entity, thought, and being.” Narrowing my eyes at her, I huff strategically, blowing heat into her face. “Okay, maybe I should shut up now, she can speak for herself,” looking up at me, she adds, “can’t you, you big, bad dwaggon.”

  I’ve never been a fan of nursery rhymes, but I open my maw and speak to her in a sinister voice that’s dripping with sarcasm, showing my teeth at every opportunity, “My my Grandma, what big ears you have,” moving closer I carry on, “What big eyes you have,” attempting to lick my lips, I show off my smile, “What big teeth you have!”

  “Right will you stop? You’re not even a wolf!”

  “I’m not,” I chuckle, “but I’ve heard that cat tastes delicious when it’s toasted.”

  “Ugh! Why are you so weird! We have company!”

  Looking from Mika to the four lads again, I remind myself that although we might have company, I don’t particularly care. I hesitate a little before justifying my oddities.

  “And?”

  Poor Mika looks as if she wants to strangle me or rip her own hair out. I’m sure she loves her hair more than she loves me at the moment, but due to my size, strangulation seems a little hard to accomplish.

  “If I die in mysterious circumstances, I’m gonna leave them a note saying it was you.”

  “Sure, you do that.”

  Blowing hot air at her again purely to piss her off by making her hair frizz slightly, I smile internally at myself because I am obviously fucking hilarious.

  “I don’t get it.”

  My hilarity turns sardonic quickly, considering I have a tendency to deflect all of my issues with jokes. Sometimes it works, other times however, I get stuck giving stupid answers to stupid questions, asked by stupid people. Like Landon, for example.

  “Don’t get what, dummy?”

  I turn my large reptilian head towards him, and for someone who is partially a dragon themselves, you’d think that they wouldn’t be all too scared to have one in their face. Landon however looks as if he’s seconds away from a lifetime in Purgatory.

  “How you can be one and the same… Your beast is a different entity, not an extension of yourself…” He swallows audibly, making that horrible gulping noise.

  “Unfortunately, I think… no I know— that you are wrong.” There’s only one person in this room who could verify that my word is truth and not gospel, and he’s sitting in the armchair I left him in. “He’s wrong, isn’t he Finny?”

  I hear a laugh behind me, but because it could be Mika or Leland, but definitely not that stoic bastard Remington, I ignore them.

  “Yes, he is wrong, in a sense.”

  “Would you do the honours of explaining, scholar? The topic bores me.”

  I roll my eyes slightly, feigning tiredness as Finn begins to explain the origins of dragons, though this dipshit should know them, considering he went to school, was in the guard and ironically, grew up as one.

  Dickheads.

  “A long time ago, in a land far, far away…”

  “No theatrics, skip the damsels in distress and the knights in shining armour will you. I’d like to go home at the end of today, not the end of next year.”

  “Okay, right, so basically, a couple of thousand years ago, many dragons existed outside of our usual species we have now. Many of them have since perished, obsidian black dragons went first, storm grey dragons next, and we assumed the iridescent white dragons had disappeared alongside them, that was, until now.”

  I let him breathe, just for a moment before nodding my head to continue.

  “At first we thought that it was because war broke out between the three species; obsidian dragons were renowned for their stubbornness and battle ready tactics, grey dragons were particularly non-committal until it came to land which made them live up to their hoarding nature, and iridescent dragons were masters at mind manipulation and magicks. But as it turns out, the species died through one sort of madness or another.”

  Mika props her chin on her hands, not having heard the story of how I came to be, or how I’ve grown into who I am. But what surprises me the most is that the other guys are sitting there engrossed as well, even the asshole.

  “After the dwindling numbers reduced so much that these monochromatic dragons were few and far between, no one could really study how they deteriorated or why, until a recon team found a hoard belonging to a deceased obsidian, which described, in detail, his slow descent into madness. Imagination blurred the lines of reality, and with no one else there to separate the two, he slowly lost himself along with his mind. It’s not a fitting story, but we had a reasoning as to why they perished. The last recording of any monochromatic dragon was several thousand years ago, but obviously more than one slipped through the cracks unnoticed.”

  There’s something about his eyes that are continuously calculating and always evaluating, whether it be a person, scenario, time or space. But it’s those inky depths that draw me in everytime; just like that morning in the bookshop, it was the eyes that turned me into a stuttering, wet mess.

  Good wet, not bad wet, though I’ll never admit it. Can someone simultaneously shit themselves and be turned on at the same time?

  “I can’t answer that for you.”

  Damn it! It’s a rhetorical question you twit!

  “How did you get past without being seen anyway?”

  A rumble escapes me, “that would be a good secret wouldn’t it? But I can guarantee you, I’m not the only one left.”

  I’d like to say that comment shocks him, but undeterred by the prospect of more, Finn leisurely discards that tidbit of information but no doubt stores it somewhere in his pretty little mind for later.

  “I never revealed who I was.” Shaking my head, I continue, “All anyone ever knew about me was that I was an exceptionally skilled member of the Lord’s Guard.”

  “Wait, L-Lord’s Guard? You were i-in it?”

  “Yes,” she hisses, “tell them all about our murderous lifestyle.”

  The two simultan
eous conversations overlap with an intensity that gives me a reptilian headache as intense as brain freeze. I’m not even sure if dragons could get headaches, but nonetheless, I have one. I prepare myself to answer the loaded question, but I’m interrupted again.

  “In it? She ran it.” Landon comments, laughing to himself. “Remember that First Knight that no one talks about… can any one of you besides Finn, describe them?”

  Remington and Leland look at each other like they’re in a boat at sea without a paddle. Finn looks smug though. I guess that his scholarly background is finally being put to good use.

  I wonder how good he’d be in a pub quiz?

  “Probably a damn sight better than you are.”

  “There’s no pictures or m-mention of the First Knight during Grandma and Grandpa’s reign. The only thing that is ever n-noted in the library at home is that Grandpa and Grandma chose the Knight for their v-valor, courage and u-unwavering dedication to them.”

  “Also that they were renowned in weaponry.” Adds Landon.

  “And abnormally advanced for their rank.” Finnegan interjects.

  Looking back at Landon, they all wait in antici—pation at the unveiling of the First Knight. He knows, of course, but only because I told him. Or showed him. Semantics, really.

  “Remi… showed me something when we spoke at the bookstore,” with a troubled expression and a trembling hand, Landon rubs his temples, “It was a vision, or rather a memory, of a woman in the First Knight’s armour, with the sword of serenity.”

  “A woman? But the First Knight is always a man.”

  “Not this time,” I speak out, “Although I appreciate Landon telling the story, I think I should, considering I know it a little better— no missing information or holes.” Attempting to smile, I show off my pearly whites again, which only leads to a grimace from Mika, and the subtle motion of Leland moving back into his chair.