by JD Monroe
So how was an underground healing outfit in the human realm using a magic that had died out a century earlier?
“There.” The woman removed the needle and threw it in a biohazard container. The bottle didn’t look that big, but combined with what he’d already lost, he was woozy. “The healer will see you soon.”
The woman left him alone in the room. As soon as the curtain closed behind her, Erevan dug his uninjured hand into his pocket for his phone. He wanted Ruana here now. She was going to kill him for doing this alone.
The top of his phone read No Service. He tried anyway to make the call, but there was just white noise on the other end.
The curtain scraped against its metal rod as a short man entered. Unlike his assistants, he wore a smile. He appeared to be human, with the hint of a belly straining against his belt. But his human smell was completely buried under the heavy smell of decay, hanging in the air like dense fog. That had to be the blood magic. Now that he’d noticed it, it was impossible to ignore. His stomach churned in waves.
“I’m Beale. See you’ve got yourself a nasty wound there.”
“Uh, yes,” Erevan said.
Beale’s eyes swept over him. “Can I ask why a full-blooded Kadirai like yourself didn’t seek out more…traditional healing? The Marashti, perhaps?” It was unusual for humans to be so involved and well-informed about his kind.
“Very expensive. And they ask too many questions.”
Beale smiled conspiratorially. “Agreed. I’m glad you came to see me.” He took out a pair of latex gloves and covered his hands. Humming to himself, he gently lifted Erevan’s injured arm and inspected it. “Looks like you missed the artery. Knife fight?”
“Something like that.”
Beale’s fingers were strong, pressing near the wound as he looked closer. “Deep, but not too bad.” He released Erevan’s arm and peeled off his gloves. “You’ve got a couple of options. I can have you out of here in about thirty minutes, but you’ll have a pretty serious scar. Or about two hours, and it’ll heal clean. You’ll have a little scarring, but nothing a little suntan won’t cover up.”
“What’ll it cost me?”
“Given your deposit, two fifty in cash,” Beale said. “The time is up to you.”
“Clean heal,” Erevan said, eyeing him. Two hundred and fifty dollars was a fraction of what the Marashti healers charged. No wonder people had sought out Beale.
Beale nodded again and opened the cabinet. “You got it, man.”
“Can I ask you a question? You ever deal with gunshot wounds?”
“Professional opinion? I advise against it.”
Erevan laughed. Despite his suspicion, Beale had a certain disarming charisma. “There’s this guy that owes my boss money. They got into a scrap last night, and the guy got shot in the neck. I’d pay extra if you could give me a tip. Phone number…anything.”
Beale’s eyebrows lifted. Though his expression remained neutral, Erevan could hear the hitch in his breath, and the sudden lurch in his pulse. He’d tipped his hand too far, and Beale was suspicious. “Sorry, friend. Even if I knew this guy, I really couldn’t tell you. My customers appreciate the fact that I keep their business private.”
Fine. They could do this his way. He looked into Beale’s deep blue eyes. They were slightly bloodshot. “Tell me who he is.” As Erevan pushed against Beale’s mind, he felt a subtle sense of connection like a thin filament from the base of his skull.
Beale’s pupils dilated. “He was here. His name is…” He grimaced and shook his head. “Fuck.” There was a palpable snap like a rubber band popping Erevan’s neck as Beale broke his hold. “Bad move.” He shoved his hand into his pocket.
Adrenaline rushed through Erevan. He stood, ready to tackle Beale to get out. As he lunged forward, Beale didn’t obstruct him. He stepped aside, drawing a small device from his pocket.
A deafening chime enveloped Erevan, like his head had been shoved into a massive church bell. His fire, usually comforting and contained, ignited in his chest. He gasped in pain and surprise as the heat seared his lungs, closing off his throat. Then his back seized, contorting him into a painful arch as he hit his knees in the doorway. His spine cracked.
With panic surging through him, he stumbled into the hall. Another violent convulsion wracked him as the dragon within clawed through the human shell. This wasn’t right. He wasn’t trying to change, but it was happening anyway. The chime still rang over the thunderous sound of blood in Erevan’s ears.
Sharp pain lanced through the haze. He squinted through his pulsing vision to see the red-haired woman holding a gun with a long cable attached to it. A thick, barbed dart had pierced his shoulder, tethering him to the woman. He struggled against it, trying to get away, but that awful ringing sound intensified.
A fresh surge of power rolled through him, igniting the transformation again. He willed his body to stop, but he was out of control. The dragon had a mind of its own, stirred into a frenzy by the horrible sound. His right hand split open as razor sharp black talons emerged from his finger tips and gouged the floor. The feeling of his bones shifting, his skin hardening into armored scales was asymmetrical, splitting his body like a crooked fault line.
Another dart pierced his side. Sickening pain rolled through him as someone yanked on it, pulling it against his skin. He roared in anger, a half-dragon scream that tore from his throat. Through the confusion, he could at least understand what was producing that awful sound. Pulling against the barbed darts, he scrambled on his hands and knees and reached for the device in Beale’s hand. The healer looked smug, only taking a small step back as if Erevan was no threat.
With a groan of effort, Erevan lurched to his feet and grabbed Beale’s hand. Using the strength of his half-changed hand, he squeezed Beale’s wrist and snapped it like a twig. The human screamed, and the small remote fell from his hand. Erevan stomped on it, and the awful sound stopped.
Go. You have to get out.
Erevan grabbed the thick cables on either side and yanked hard, jerking the guns out of his attackers’ hands. His vision cleared enough to look for an exit. The man blocked the front door, while the woman stood near the stainless-steel table. Beyond her was a glowing patch of sunlight that had to be the loading dock.
He launched into a run, praying the dragon would settle and let him escape. When the woman stepped into his path, he dodged to one side and swept her legs to throw her off balance. She hit the ground with a grunt of pain. He sprinted past her to the doorway, slamming himself against the latch.
As he fell through the open door and into the blinding sunlight, the ringing sound found him again. His body went rigid, but instead of fighting the transformation, he leaned into it and let the fire explode in his chest.
This time, the pain was familiar as it broke down his spine in a series of pops. His head felt as if it exploded as his skull reshaped itself, his jaws bristling with teeth. The pain receded as he unfurled his wings, like stretching after too long in a car.
The red-haired woman emerged from the door, and her jaw dropped as she saw him. The sound changed then, a warbling sound that made the world spin around Erevan. He waited for a moment, channeling the fire in his chest, then released a satisfying gout of flame. The woman dodged back inside, but there was a charred spot where his fire had melted the doorway.
The sound intensified, and his fire flickered, as if he was losing his connection. He shook his head, growling in confusion. While he was trying to regain his balance, a thunder crack rang out, and something ripped through his left wing. He roared in pain. He tried to launch himself into the sky, but his wings were weak, the muscles refusing to respond. His balance shifted as his tail suddenly went limp, and he realized he was changing back.
The woman emerged from the doorway, now pointing a gun at him.
The fire was beyond his grasp as his body betrayed him again. He was helpless.
Erevan had told her to drive away and call Ruana if something h
appened. When the first gunshot rang out and echoed into ominous silence, she was fairly certain that qualified as something happening. She threw the car into drive and stomped the gas. Drive away, call his friend, she thought even as curiosity guided her to drive toward the warehouse instead of the opposite way.
She gaped at the bizarre scene in the parking lot of the warehouse. There was a red dragon in the gated parking lot, one wing tucked against its side. That was strange enough as it was, but the creature wasn’t fully a dragon. One of its front limbs was a man’s arm, while there were streaks against its glittering red hide that looked more like tanned skin than dragon scales. She knew without a doubt that was Erevan, and he was having a rough time of it. A woman with red hair stood on the loading dock, aiming a rifle at him.
Natalie gritted her teeth and made a number of questionable decisions at the same time. First, she reached into the back seat to grab her own gun. With it lying on her thigh, she used her other hand to call the number Erevan had given her. It rang twice before an unfamiliar female voice answered, “Asora vel?”
“Hello? Is this Ruana? This is Natalie.”
“Who? Who is—"
“Erevan told me to call you if something happened,” she blurted. “Something’s happening. He’s in trouble.”
The woman’s voice was ice cold. “Where are you?”
“137 Edmonds Parkway.”
“I’m on my way,” she replied. “Stay out of sight.”
“Okay.” Natalie had no intention of doing so. She threw the phone into the passenger seat as she wheeled around to make a three-point turn in the street. Praying for the six-cylinder engine to come through for her, she stomped the gas and braced for impact.
There was a terrible screeching sound as her car slammed into the gate and hurled it inward. The gate broke open. Her windshield shattered in a spider web pattern, and she slammed on the brakes to keep from smashing into Erevan.
With blood roaring in her ears, she jumped out of the car and pointed the gun at the red-haired woman. “Back off, bitch!” she shouted. The woman turned, and the barrel of her gun was soon trained on Natalie. Cold fear stopped her in her tracks. Please don’t shoot. “Leave him alone!”
At her shout, the red dragon whipped its head around. With an ear-splitting roar, it released a long tongue of searing flame toward the woman. She darted inside the building. The dragon lurched to its feet and sprang after her, but it twisted around suddenly, as if an invisible fist had sunk into its belly. It landed awkwardly on its side, arching backward. The dragon’s scaly hide seemed to split apart, the large form collapsing in as the red scales gave way to smooth skin. The clawed limbs shrank to human hands again.
With the dragon gone, Erevan lay stark naked on the pavement. Wicked-looking barbed darts as big around as her thumb protruded from his right side and his left shoulder. Snapped cables trailed away from them, like someone had been trying to tether him down. His back arched tight as he cried out in pain. His left arm swelled grotesquely, scales erupting in a crooked line from shoulder to wrist before disappearing again a few seconds later. He gasped for air. “Get…Ruana…”
“Your friend? I already called.” She gaped at him. Thick veins stood out on his arms, as if every muscle was contracting at once. This wasn’t the confident Erevan she knew. He was terrified and helpless, caught in the grip of something she couldn’t fathom.
Instinct took over as she grabbed his arm. The sweat-damp skin hardened under her touch, and beneath her paler fingers she saw the bloom of red scales once more, like blood breaking through the skin.
“I don’t know what’s happening, but you’re okay,” she said, hoping her voice didn’t shake. “You’re okay.” How many times had she held her mother’s hand, even crawling into the narrow bed to hold her in those last few months when the pain was too much, and they wouldn’t turn up the morphine drip? She would say it over and over, lying through her teeth because the lie was better than silence. His skin blazed hot, almost painful to the touch.
“You’re okay,” she said in her most soothing tone. His breathing was ragged and harsh. “You’re okay.”
Tires squealed from behind her. At the back of the building, a dark SUV was pulling out with smoke curling up from its tires. Anger overtook her. Natalie released Erevan and grabbed her gun, aiming at the SUV. Whoever was in it was responsible for this, and probably whatever happened to Thea. They were responsible for turning her entire life upside down. She squeezed the trigger.
Thunder roared around her as the gun kicked up. There was a metallic ting as the bullet slammed into the side of the vehicle. She braced herself as it came within a few feet of them. If the driver decided to run them over, there was nothing she could do. But the vehicle passed them. On the way out of the gate, the SUV clipped her car, turning it a quarter turn before screeching down the street outside.
“Assholes!” she screamed after them. A terrible sound of distress vibrated through Erevan’s chest.
“It’s okay,” she said again as his chest began to swell. Tan skin split over bare white bone for a moment. Her stomach churned at the sight. What had they done to him? He groaned, and the sound of his pain cut deep into her. Tamping down her own revulsion, she rested her head on his chest and stroked his arm. “You’re okay.”
His heart pounded, hard enough that she felt each pulse like a drum beat against her cheek. The heat was nearly unbearable, but as she lay against him, he stilled. Something tickled within her head, as if her sinuses filled with carbonation. For a split second, the heat swelled and she felt a searing pain split from the base of her throat, down her sternum, all the way down to her belly button as if she’d been sliced open. It felt like her lungs were too full, but she was drawing in tiny sips of air until it felt like she would explode.
“You’re okay,” she repeated, until the words didn’t make sense.
And then a miraculous thing happened. He relaxed. The hard scales on his arm receded, leaving only sweat-slick skin beneath her fingers. The pain in her chest broke, and he flattened against the pavement. He still breathed heavily, as if he had been sprinting at full tilt until his legs gave out from under him.
“You’re okay,” she murmured. He didn’t respond, but the fact that he was quiet and still breathing was enough.
She sat up, leaving her hand on his arm. The seam in his chest had closed, leaving only smooth tan skin. Her gaze followed the gentle crease, down a defined torso, to…
“Holy shit.” Except for a shredded remnant of denim clinging to one ankle, Erevan was naked and glistening with sweat. She peeked once more.
Jesus.
On the eighth day, God must have made dragons, because he was magnificent. It seemed violating to stare at him while he was barely conscious. She shrugged off her light jacket and draped it over his hips. She tried—and failed—to ignore the subtle curve of the thick muscle on his legs. Thankfully, he was out like a light and didn’t notice her gawking. A pleasant warmth sparked between her legs, surging up her spine. No, no, no, you perv. She pointedly looked away. The sight of him naked would probably ruin men for her forever.
Though it seemed like a lifetime, only fifteen minutes had passed since Natalie made the call to Ruana. Preceded by a roaring engine, another dark SUV screeched to a halt inside the broken gate. Instinctively, she clutched the gun, but a woman leaped out of the passenger seat with her hands outstretched. “Natalie,” the woman said in a confident voice. “We spoke on the phone. I’m Ruana. I’m here to help.”
“Okay,” Natalie said, lowering the gun. “Thanks for coming so fast.”
Ruana’s smile evaporated as she jogged toward them. She knelt next to Erevan, pressing her hand to his chest, then to his throat, and finally to his face. The way she touched him was intimate and familiar. Were they together? Dark hair in graceful, smooth waves spilled over Ruana’s shoulders as she leaned over him. Her features were bold, with sharp cheekbones and a prominent nose. She was beautiful, and Natalie felt
like an awkward teenager in her presence. A flare of ugly, fiery jealousy burst into Natalie’s mind, shocking her with its ferocity.
The woman spoke rapidly to him. It sounded like what he’d been speaking to Silvi. His eyes creaked open for a moment. She smiled. After another exchange, she patted his cheek. He tried to sit up, but she easily pushed him back and turned to Natalie. “What happened?”
Natalie did her best to fill Ruana in on what had happened.
“He was transforming,” Ruana murmured.
“But it was like he couldn’t control it.”
“Shit.” Ruana shook her head. Feet scraped against the pavement, and they looked up at the same time to see two more men approaching. Ruana spoke to them, then stood suddenly. “I’m going in. Why don’t you go wait in your car?”
Natalie shook her head. “I want to go inside. My friend might be in there.”
Ruana frowned. “Your friend?”
“Thea Leska.”
“Thea…oh.” Ruana’s eyes widened again. “The missing Ashflight dragon.”
“The who?”
“Never mind.” She brushed Natalie’s hand, making eye contact with her. Her dark brown eyes widened, the pupils dilating. “Why don’t you go back to your car and catch your breath.”
Natalie raised an eyebrow. “Are you trying the dragon mind-games on me?” Ruana’s eyes widened. “They don’t work on me.”
With wide eyes, Ruana stammered, “I wasn’t…I mean…shit.”
That ruined the theory that Erevan’s inability to compel Natalie was about him. What was different about her? “Please let me come in with you. I won’t get in your way.”
Ruana threw up her hands. “Fine with me. Bring your gun.” She scanned the outside of the building, then walked briskly toward the loading dock on the side of the building. Leaving Erevan in the care of Ruana’s two companions, Natalie grabbed her gun and hurried after the other woman. She stood in the doorway, wrinkling her nose. “Do you smell that?”
