by Aaron Crash
“Look!” Tessa called out. She was pointing up at the sky.
The constellation of Draco, in the northern night sky, was shining brightly. It was next to the Big Dipper. Steven knew that one at least.
The mystic topaz pendant glowed so much it was a like a second sun on the Drokharis fortress. Shadows around the cottonwoods lengthened, and yet, something was different. The night sky shimmered like it was a pool of water with diamonds shining in its depths, but all other stars were dim compared to the Draco constellation.
So close … the liquid night seemed close enough Steven could touch it. He bent and placed the broadsword on the rooftop. Then he stood and reached out a hand, and it felt like dipping his fingers into a warm pool—so warm and comforting on his skin. His hand disappeared into the stars of Draco’s head. Something was there, something square. He gripped it and tugged, pulling the mystery item out of the night sky itself.
Suddenly, he found himself holding a book, a huge leather-bound thing with a blank cover. Wasn’t blank for long, though. As the light from the pendant streamed down, words appeared on the front.
The Drokharis Grimoire.
Aria hissed, “It’s a Prime’s spell book … the family’s spell book. Could you be part of that family, Steven?”
He shrugged. He just didn’t know.
Tessa crept over to stand next to Steven. She reached out a hand and touched the night; it sent ripples across the sky. Her eyes shined as brightly as the pendant and the Draco stars. “It’s so warm,” she breathed. “I would’ve thought it would be cold because, well space, right?”
“Could you also be a part of the Drokharis family?” Aria asked.
Tessa made a face. “Uh, I hope not because, yeah, that would mean Steven and I were related. Which would be both illegal and, more importantly, gross. We can’t have that.”
Steven ignored their chatter. The book became heavier in his hand, so heavy he had to put it on the ground. The minute leather touched the tiles, new color flooded into the mosaic, creating a picture of a black dragon, surrounded by other dragons, smaller, more slender. Females. There were also men and women standing with the black dragon, most likely a powerful Prime with at least one if not many Primacies under his control. The dragon in the mural had his arms out. Swirls of energy smoked out of his claws and crossed the roof to end at the three closed doors. The dragon’s tail reached to the door they’d come out of.
What did it mean? Steven didn’t know.
He opened the book but didn’t get a chance to read it.
Six men in black combat gear burst through the door and out onto the rooftop. They were special-ops guys, some armed with assault rifles and some with swords—the blades all glowing neon green. Those blades were enchanted, without a doubt, and probably able to cut through dragon scale. Black body armor covered their arms, chests, and legs. Black paint made their faces disappear in the night.
Aria turned, sprinted to the edge of the tower, and threw herself off, leaving Steven and Tessa alone.
Oh shit. Had she led them into a trap?
THIRTEEN
The swordsmen stopped while the riflemen crouched, aimed, and fired.
Steven whirled, grabbing Tessa and pulling her in against him as he activated the Homo Draconis ability. His entire body expanded upward and outward. In a blink, he became eight feet tall and three feet wide. His new clothes burst at the seams to accommodate his muscles, scales, and the spines rising out of his vertebrae. He crouched over Tessa, hugging her to his chest, sheltering her from the gunfire with his armor-plated back.
The bullets thudded into Steven’s shoulders and spine, each one a hammer blow. But Tessa was safe, that was the important thing.
“Get the book!” he growled at her through jaws ill-equipped for speaking.
Then Steven spun and lashed out with his tail on instinct. It had to be instinct because he’d spent twenty years with only four major appendages. He drove the thick coil into the face of a man, crunching through bone. The thug fell, screaming, clutching at his ruined face. Animus burst out of his crushed skull and swept into the glowing pendant still hanging around Steven’s neck.
One guy with a rifle kept firing. The muzzle flashed brightly on the rooftop and bullets struck Steven, but like before, they bounced off—though they still hurt like a bitch; each felt like a mallet-blow of fiery pain. Another soldier dropped his gun and drew a long knife, the blade etched with glimmering runes. Meanwhile the three men with magic swords advanced, spreading out in a semicircle, death and determination etched into their faces.
Steven was outnumbered five to one. Didn’t matter. He was close to finding out the truth of his past, and he wasn’t about to let these assholes get in the way.
He waded forward and clawed the rifleman’s face off with a single strike. Without the constant pounding of the bullets, Steven felt much better. More Animus flowed into him through the pendant.
The knife guy lunged, driving his rune-etched blade into Steven’s side. It snapped off. Wheeling, Steven batted him off the roof with a sweep of his tail. The knife guy went screaming to his death, arms pinwheeling on the way down.
A glowing sword carved through the air, but Steven was ready. He ducked the blow, then dodged another strike from an assailant on his right, his speed increased, his reflexes supernaturally quick. But how? Then he knew. The Animus. He had three kills, and their energy now filled him. He couldn’t harness it well, but the energy was there, fueling him, helping him.
A swordsman slipped left and shot in, sinking his blade into Steve’s shoulder. As expected, the neon-green blade parted scale and found the flesh and muscle beneath. Steven grunted, but pushed away the surge of pain. He picked up the attacker with one hand, then twirled like a top and slammed him against another armor-clad swordsman. Both rolled across the tiles, slamming into rock of the parapet.
The third swordsman rushed forward without missing a beat. He had his sword, glowing green, poised to impale Steven’s heart. A blow that would end him.
Something crimson and deadly streaked out of the sky, snatching the attacker up with such force he dropped his weapon. The glowing sword clattered across the mosaic as the man screamed. The deadly creature carried the man up, great wings pumping, then released him with a flick of powerful arms. He struck a hulking cottonwood with a meaty thud and the crack of breaking bone. His crushed corpse tumbled, his limbs clearly fractured, his neck twisted in an unnatural direction.
Aria! She’d taken on her True Form: a scarlet dragon fifteen feet long, winged, tailed, and clawed. She flashed overhead in the darkness, trailing inky smoke from her jaws.
By that time, the first two swordsmen had regained their feet. Behind them, through the door, came three more Kevlar-clad men, all armed with assault rifles. Laser targets found Tessa’s chest. They fired.
Steven was fast enough to intercept the rounds, taking another pounding on his chest. He huffed as each bullet struck home. His blood from the sword wound dripped onto the mosaic. He couldn’t use his right arm, not a chance. Could he fight the five men with only his tail and his left claw? He wasn’t exactly spoiled for options, so he had to.
Steven whirled and caught a swordsman by the arm before the man could cut into him again.
The other swordsman attacked with his magic blade, slashing into Steven’s side. More black blood gushed onto the tiles.
One of the newcomers bent to retrieve the third magic sword, which lay on the tiles.
Laser spots appeared on Tessa’s head. The thunder of gunfire followed, those bullets heading toward the barista’s brain. Steven lifted his tail and saved her. His tail took the damage, and the sheer force of the impact spun him around.
Another sword landed, this time on his right arm. He howled and tried to raise the arm, but it hung limp from his body due to the shoulder wound he’d suffered earlier.
In that instant, he knew he couldn’t fight all five men at the same time, keep Tessa safe, and keep himself ali
ve. They had to get off the rooftop. There was no other way.
A hot wind smelling of cinnamon filled the air. Aria, beating her wings, soared by overhead, banking sharply right, then circling again. Steven knew exactly what she was waiting for. He turned his back on the attackers and was promptly rewarded with the bite of more sword blades, but they would soon be gone. He wrapped Tessa up in his arms, loped across the rooftop with his powerful reptilian legs, and leapt onto the lip of the tower. He wavered there for a moment before leaping off; the wind whipped around them as they plummeted, down, down, down.
He turned into the fall so his back would land first, his body absorbing the brunt of the impact. He had some armor, but it was a six-story drop onto unforgiving ground. He hoped this suicidal move worked or it would be the last reckless thing he ever did.
The instant he left the roof, Aria unleashed a powerful burst of flame. She covered the top of the tower in an inferno, breathing an intense fire that engulfed the remaining armored attackers. Their screams ripped through the night. Their skin hissed and spit as the intense heat flash-fried them. The dragon fire was so hot that it made Tessa’s skin grow slippery from sweat, and Steven felt it blast his face even as they hurtled toward the ground.
The smell of smoke and meat cooking mixed with the cinnamon-spice of Aria’s dragon form. That sweet scent grew more intense, and then he felt Aria’s claws latch onto his left arm, slowing them down. She beat her wings furiously, but Steven in his Homo Draconis form was too heavy to support.
Still, Aria managed to slow them down enough to survive the fall. Steven and Tessa struck the ground, and they bounced through weeds and sagebrush before smashing into the basin of a fountain. Sweeping through the air, Aria banked, narrowly missed a cottonwood, and then came around to land on the ground. She towered over them in her True Form, green eyes glimmering in the flickering firelight from the tower above.
She brought her huge head forward and smiled. Seeing a dragon smile made Steven grin using his own reptilian mouth. But he had been wounded, and he felt light-headed. Something bounced into the dirt in front of them. At first, Steven thought it was debris from the top of the tower, but then he saw the familiar shape of a grenade.
Aria bustled forward, pushing Steven and Tessa to the ground. She slammed a clawed foot down on the grenade. Boom. The explosion lifted her off her feet and blasted her back against the tower. But dragons, apparently, were even tougher than grenades. She recovered in a heartbeat, then turned and let out a geyser of fire at another six soldiers hustling out of the trees.
Reinforcements. Great.
The soldiers dove behind cottonwoods, but the dry grasses caught and soon smoke swirled upward into the night sky. Machine gun fire erupted in staccato bursts. Muzzle flashes gave away their positions. Aria drove her body forward to either burn them or eat them. Something streaked across the ground, slamming into Aria’s chest with a violent explosion of light and heat. An RPG. Like an actual missile. The blast threw the dragon to the ground, a plume of smoke rising from her body.
“Aria!” Tessa screamed in worry.
Fury reddened Steven’s vision. These special-ops assholes had hurt his friend, and they were going to pay. They might have advanced weapons, big shit, but they didn’t have any magic swords, and he was bulletproof.
“Find cover,” he growled at Tessa.
He raced across the ground, jumped over Aria, and landed in the middle of the six mercenaries. Bullets punched into his scales, but though they hurt, the blows weren’t lethal. Not even close. He spun his tail around and took three down to their knees. He lunged forward and ripped the throat out of another with his jaws. For the first time in his life, he tasted the life blood of someone else. It was salty, warm, and awful, and yet the burst of Animus filled him with vital power.
Steven kept moving. He clawed through the belly of another soldier, leaving butchered flesh in his wake. The guy went to his knees as his guts hit the dirt, and then he keeled over.
Steven was surrounded by fire, but the flames didn’t hurt. In fact, the heat felt good on his scales. Then a wind came sweeping through, so strong and powerful, the grassfire was extinguished, blown out like the candles on a birthday cake. That hurricane breeze smelled like cinnamon … Aria was still alive and putting out the fire she’d caused with her breath. Steven spun and saw her silhouetted in the night, a real live dragon, standing over them, working her huge wings.
It was as beautiful as it was strange.
Another rocket-propelled grenade struck her in the chest, and the explosion left her shrieking in pain. She stumbled, reeled, tripped, and fell to the ground again. This time, she didn’t get up.
Steven went for the guy with the RPG. He was quick, strong. The mercenary drove the butt end of the rocket launcher into Steven’s jaw, cracking loose a tooth. Steven responded by leaping onto the guy, grabbing his skull, and squeezing. The added strength of his Homo Draconis form threatened to pop the soldier’s head right off his shoulders.
The three mercenaries Steven had dropped with his initial tail swipe had scuttled off into the darkness in full retreat.
“Mercy!” the RPG soldier cried out. “Don’t kill me! No paycheck is worth this!”
Steven pushed his reptilian snout into the face of the man. “Who hired you?” His voice came out in a bestial growl.
“I can’t tell you!”
Steven increased the pressure, and the mercenary cried out in fear and pain. “You’re going to tell me,” Steven snarled, “or I’m going to crush your skull like an egg.”
More pressure. The white eyes in the black-painted face went wide.
“Okay, okay, okay … I’m a hired gun for Rhaegen Mulk. His Skinling dispatched us to this old Aerie. He thought you’d come here.”
“Give me a name,” Steven ordered. “What is the Skinling’s name?”
“Edgar Vale,” the mercenary said. “If you let me go, I’ll run. You won’t see me again. Rhaegen Mulk might come for me, but I’ll do my best to disappear. Just please don’t kill me.”
A stick snapped to Steven’s left. He glanced up to see Tessa helping Aria limp across the ground. She was back in her human form, naked, wounded. The skin over her heart was blackened from the rocket-propelled grenade.
“You have to kill him,” Aria said. “He is your enemy, and you could use the Animus.”
She seemed so calm, but then, the Indian woman had a different perspective about life and death. She had grown up with Dragonsoul Primes warring, and in war, there were casualties.
Steven was losing track of his kills, and the thought disturbed him. Taking lives should mean something. And while he hadn’t promised to let the mercenary go free for information, a deal had been implied.
“You run,” Steven grunted. “And don’t come after me again. Tell everyone you know. Tell all of Rhaegen Mulk’s vassals. If you mess with me and my Escort, you die. Understand?”
His Escort. The word had come out of his mouth so easily. Naturally. He’d fought so well. He’d been so brave. The pendant was helping him; it was the only explanation. He was coming into his own, and the gemstone was easing the way.
He let go of the man’s skull, and the mercenary fled into the darkness.
Steven rose, his head dizzy, and he felt his grip on his Homo Draconis form slip. He took a step and suddenly his legs were human. His arms followed a second later, and then he was on his hands and knees, gasping. Blood, human blood, dripped into the weeds and dirt of the courtyard. He’d been hacked with magical swords numerous times. And now he was feeling it. The adrenaline was fading, the pain encroaching with vicious glee.
He swayed and then fell to his side. Naked like Aria, he curled up in a ball of hurt. Three blinks later, he was unconscious.
He woke with Tessa trying to get him to his feet, pleading with him to walk. “Come on, Steven, work with me.”
“Aria … is she okay?” Steven asked in a mumble.
“Yes, in the car. She’s less b
loody than you are, but she’s also hurt.” Tessa helped him into the passenger’s seat, then climbed in the driver’s seat and started the engine. Aria was in the back, unconscious.
Tessa dropped the car into gear and pulled out, gravel crunching under the tires. Steven thought to ask about the book, but his thoughts were fuzzy, and everything just hurt so damned much. He leaned his head back. He was out the second his head touched the seat.
He woke to the smell of cigarette smoke. He was covered in a blanket, as was Aria, and they were in the Mercedes, in the parking lot of the Marriott. Every inch of Steven ached. He touched the wound on his shoulder and found he wasn’t bleeding anymore. Like before, he was healing at an accelerated rate. That was good. But his head felt like a junked-out car in a demolition derby.
Hunger and thirst fought it out in the rest of his body. He managed to choke out words. “Tessa, water. Food.”
Tessa came around and opened the door. She stood bathed in the parking lot lights, smoking.
“Why are you smoking?” he asked weakly. “Cigarettes aren’t cool.”
“I only smoke when I’m stressed,” she answered. The she ranted. “And I think this qualifies as being stressed after everything that happened. Plus, you two might die. And I can’t even get you to the room because you both are way naked. So, yeah, this whole thing is intense, and it stopped being fun when you threw me off the roof and that fucking guy with the RPG hit Aria twice, and then she breathed fire. Like, actual, fucking, fire.”
He raised a finger. “Dragons, remember? It’s what we do apparently.”
She exhaled a cloud of blue-gray smoke then managed to find a little chuckle. “Yeah, apparently.” She ashed her cigarette. “I tried looking at the book while you were out, but it’s written in another language. It seems like a real thriller though, and there are plenty of pictures. For a high school dropout like me, that really helps.”
“I didn’t know you dropped out of school.” Steven closed his eyes. “Can you get me something to eat? And some clothes. Then we can make it up to the room. Grab a blanket for Aria, and we can cover her and carry her up.”
