by Aaron Crash
The three dragons thrashing around in the living room brought the rest of the ceiling down in a torrent of destruction. The staircase crumbled. Priceless works of art were crushed underfoot and smashed with whipping tails—the cost of the lost art was incalculable. The mansion had become an arena for battle.
Edgar swept his wings back and brought them forward, unleashing a massive gust of air that blasted Aria into the far wall. She hit with the force of a car crash, plaster cracking, studs snapping, drywall cratering around her. Only the sorcery reinforcing the building prevented her from punching all the way through.
Meanwhile, the yellow dragon lunged in, sinking his teeth in the villain’s throat. Edgar flailed, but largely ignored the male dragon, instead focusing his gaze on Aria. Edgar twisted his head, opened his mouth impossibly wide, and unleashed an inferno of fire into Aria. Though she could withstand most heat, the dark fire erupting from the Dragonskin blistered her, and she found herself roaring in agony.
Liam pulled back, jerking his neck left then right, teeth ripping into Edgar, trying to stop the deadly flame attack. Blood sprayed from the wound in Edgar’s neck, but Liam hadn’t been able to rip out the green dragon’s throat. Edgar moved like a snake, quickly melting back into his Homo Draconis shape to slip out from between Liam’s crushing jaws. The second Edgar was free, he plucked the Slayer Blade from his side and struck like lightning, cutting a gaping wound into Liam’s belly.
He rammed a clawed foot into the yellow dragon’s guts. Edgar laughed with delight at the screams of pain from Liam. “And I thought you were tough, being a Ronin, living alone. But nope, you ain’t nothing to write home about.” He stuck the Slayer Blade back into his side, almost as if he liked it there, and returned to his dragon form. Wounds littered Edgar’s body, but he hardly seemed to notice as he marched forward and bathed the yellow dragon in a sheet of fire.
The remains of the piano burst into flames, as did other musical instruments around them. The curtains caught, and in seconds, the three were trapped in a conflagration.
Hurt, barely conscious, Aria flung herself toward the door, scrambling on her hands and feet. There was a chance, a slim one, that Liam’s spells had failed from the power of Edgar’s attack. Aria forced her body back to being human as she crawled, hoping she could escape.
But a claw grabbed her foot and mashed her into the floor, forcing the air from her lungs. Edgar, towering over her in his partial form, pressed the Slayer Blade to her throat. “Bitch. You ain’t leaving without me.” His serpentine eyes traveled up and down her naked body. “We both know I can’t rape you, but shit, I wouldn’t want to fuck bait anyway. And that’s what you are, sweet tits. You’re bait.” His fanged mouth opened in a leer.
Liam ran through the flames and out the door, escaping, leaving Aria alone with the Dragonskin and his rotten stink.
In the distance she heard the whoop of sirens. The humans had sent their fire department to take care of the burning mansion, but they would arrive too late to save her.
Edgar would take her to one of Mulk’s Aeries, but how would Steven and Tessa ever find her? And even if they did manage to locate the Aerie, how could they fight the insane power of this mad Dragonskin who stank of rot and ruin?
۞۞۞
Steven watched as Tessa rose from beside the fire in the cave of the sacred pools and went to retrieve the Drokharis Grimoire from where she’d dropped it along with her clothes. Watching her walk, he was amazed at how sexy she was. Was there anything better than watching a naked woman walk? He’d caught a glimpse of the beauty and power at the heart of the universe, and yet that seemed to pale in comparison.
Returning with the tome, she smiled uncertainly at him. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You’re so gorgeous,” he replied with a wide grin. “Just admiring the view.”
She blushed. “I bet you say that to all the girls.” She lay down, opened the book, and then burst into tears.
“What’s wrong?” Steven asked, shocked and worried.
“I can read it.” She wiped the tears from her face. “The words, I can read them perfectly. Something happened to me … in the waters … something …”
He reached out and stroked her back. “What?”
Her first words came out hesitant, but as she talked, she became more confident. “When the water rose out of the pools, when I was suspended in midair, it was like I had a closed door inside me, locked tight. And then suddenly, this energy acted like a key, and that door burst wide open. I can feel the Animus. I think,” she faltered, hesitating. “I think I can use it.”
Steven nodded. “Remember how Aria talked about Morphlings, Warlings, and Magicians? They’re humans who can use Animus to change their shape, fight, and cast spells. That must be what you are, though I wonder which one.” His hands went to his chest, searching for the pendant. Then he remembered that his necklace was gone, but where was the pen?
For a second, he thought he might’ve dropped it during his trip to the heart of the universe, but then he found it next to the fire. He must’ve brought it with him after he and Tessa had made love at the side of the pool.
He raised it, a long piece of mystic, quill-shaped topaz capped by a feather crafted of sapphires. It was amazing to look at. To his surprise, the pen wriggled in his hand with a life of its own and leapt from his hand. It went to the book, flipped through pages until it found a blank space, then began to write furiously. Tessa and Steven watched in wonder.
The pen flipped back to the Dragon Skill Tree and filled in the last of the blanks.
Transformatio (Head of the Dragon)
Partial Transformation
Homo Draconis
True Form (Dragonsoul)
Pugna (Tail of the Dragon)
DarkArmor
DragonStrength
SerpentGrace
ShadowStrength
IonClaw
Exhalants (Left Wing of the Dragon)
Inferno
ElectroArc
Toxicity
ArcticWind
ShadowFlame
ChromaticFury
Veneficium (Right Wing of the Dragon)
Magica Defensio
Magica Cura
Magica Impetim
Magica Incanto
Magica Divinatio
Magica Porta
Then it returned to scrawling out the rest of the book, page after page, like an automatic printer. When it was finished, the pen shuddered and lay still.
Tessa touched the pen reverently and caressed the book. “I don’t know about that whole werewolf thing, and straight-up battle doesn’t really appeal to me. But spells? Yeah, I think maybe that would be up my alley. It feels right, you know?”
Steven nodded and rose to his feet.
He was full of Animus from the sex and from his battle with the yellow dragon. He knew, without a doubt, he could achieve True Form. He stood, stretching his back, flexing his arms, and transformed into his Homo Draconis form with almost no effort at all. It felt as natural and effortless as being in his human form. And from there, it was only a bit more to expand out to his full dragon shape. His body expanded and grew, until he was thirty feet long. Thankfully the cavernous pool room was big enough to accommodate his bulk, even with his wings expanded. It felt good to stretch them out.
He examined himself in the crystalline blue waters. He was the color of midnight. His scales, his claws, his wings, everything was an inky black color, the same hue as a raven’s feathers. He’d always liked his dark hair, but he liked his black scales even more. He also noticed for the first time that the burning in his chest was gone. Vanished. Apparently, he’d crossed a major threshold and had survived.
Tessa sat staring at him, hugging her knees to her chest. “Steven. You’re…you’re beautiful!”
“I bet you say that to all the boys,” he growled. His voice was deep, inhuman—like a force of nature.
She laughed. “No, but then, you’re
the first boy I’ve ever dated that could turn into a dragon.”
Steven closed his eyes, feeling out his huge, powerful new body. Idly, he wondered if he could fly yet. He flexed his wings. Probably, yes. He was a dragon with wings, and he knew with a little practice, he would soon be soaring through the air. That realization was delicious.
Tessa held the grimoire, reading it. “It’s not just the skill tree that updated. There are spells in here, Steven. Pages and pages of them. The first set of spells are Magica Defensio. They include Shielding, Hide, and something called Mind Wipe. I think that’s to stop humans from remembering they saw anything supernatural.”
“Like in that movie, Men in Black,” Steven rumbled.
“Bingo. But there are also blank spell slots, which makes me think maybe there are more spells out there to learn and unlock.” Tessa shook her head and gently—reverently—set the book on the floor in front of her. She sat, cross-legged, back straight, with her hands resting on her lap, palms up. Her left hand rested on her right hand, and her thumbs were only an eighth of an inch apart. If she didn’t keep her concentration, they would touch.
Clearly, she had read and understood the section on meditation. He knew she would be breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth.
He shifted from his True Form back into his human shape and joined her. Sitting there, he focused on his breathing and on keeping his thumbs from touching. He could picture the skill tree perfectly, and the Magica Defensio on the right wing called to him, throbbing with a dull golden light. Yes, he could feel how to manifest the Animus into a physical form.
“Magica Defensio,” Tessa whispered. Then, “Steven. Look.”
The air around her shimmered a light pink color. Then a semitranslucent sphere formed above them, drifting gently down until it touched his head. It felt like someone tapping on him. It was there, her magic, in the form of an orb.
“Magica Defensio,” Steven said, following her lead. Animus flowed from his body to create a semitranslucent onyx orb. His sphere swayed, bumping gently into hers with a slight clicking sound.
“I can’t believe mine is pink,” Tessa murmured, rolling her eyes. “So sexist.”
She morphed her sphere, willing it bigger and opening a hole in the bottom. She lowered the orb until it settled around her.
Steven lengthened his sphere until it was arrow shaped, then willed it forward, slamming the tip into her shield. The swirling pink around her flashed, and his arrow disappeared into a puff of smoke.
He stood, turned Homo Draconis, and tried to touch her with a claw. Again, the air around her flashed a more vibrant pink. Try as he might, he couldn’t pierce the shield she’d created around her.
Tessa gasped. “You … me … am I doing that?”
“I think so,” Steven said. “Welcome to the wonderful world of magic.”
The pink shield faded, and Steven’s claw came down to settle gently on the new Magician. He backed up, turned into his True Form, and carefully picked her up in his enormous hand. She seemed so fragile and soft compared to the hard edges of his scales. He raised her up until he was gazing on her.
She smiled at him. Her eyes were full of such love. “It’s official, Steven, you’ve swept me off my feet.”
He laughed in a thunderous growl and set her back down. Then he returned to his human form and pulled her into a tight hug. “The feeling is mutual, Tessa. All of this dragon stuff wouldn’t mean much if I didn’t have you to share it with.”
She sighed. And cried one more tear as she reached up and ran a hand over his head. “Shifting must’ve given you your hair back. I’m glad. I really like it.”
Steven was glad for that.
They reluctantly broke the embrace. “Let’s get something to eat,” he said. “And then we have to find Aria. I think we’re ready.”
“Hell yeah we are!” Tessa agreed.
Steven picked up his cell phone, then on a whim, tried his mom at home. He didn’t have high hopes. He thought it would ring and ring. It didn’t. She picked up. “Hello?”
Steven let out a sigh of relief. But then realized he had no idea what to ask her. How did you discuss your secret dragon heritage with your adopted mother?
TWENTY-FOUR
In the cave of the sacred pools, Tessa dressed while Steven stood near the fireplace, his phone pressed against his ear.
“Mom!” Steven said in exasperation. “Where have you been? I’ve been trying to call you for like three days. I left messages at work. You missed my birthday.”
His mother wailed, “Oh, Steven, your birthday? I’m so sorry. How can you ever forgive me? And this was a big one. I had things I wanted to tell you. No, not this one. Next year. You’re nineteen, now, right?”
“No, Mom,” Steven sighed. “I’m twenty. Two decades.”
His mom’s voice grew distant. “On the eve of his third decade, he will know, he will know…”
Steven shivered. It was what Stefan Drokharis had said.
Florence Whipp was quiet for a long time, and then she said, “I can’t talk about this on the phone. Can you stop by? I forgot, or maybe I wanted to forget. We have to talk, though, and it might be difficult for you to understand.”
Steven felt tears in his eyes. “I know, Mom. I know I’m adopted. I know most of what happened twenty years ago.”
“I looked for that topaz pendant in the junk drawer, but I couldn’t find it. Joe said it would be important.” Again, his mom sounded strange. “Can you stop by?”
“Are you okay?” Steven asked.
This time the quiet on the other end of the phone felt ominous. Were there people with her? Was Edgar Vale there?
“Mom, are you okay?” Steven asked again, fear freezing his belly.
“Yes, Steven, come by. I’ll be home all day. I won’t leave.”
“I’ll be right there,” he said. “And I love you, Mom. Nothing is going to change that. But are you okay?”
“Yes, I love you too. Just come quickly.” His mom hung up the phone.
That definitely felt wrong.
Tessa gazed on him with worry in her eyes. “Everything alright?”
Steven shrugged, lips pursed into a thin line. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. We’d better hurry.”
They headed down the spiral staircase and into the entry room. Steven threw on yet another set of clothes, which again, felt like the whole purpose of having a Hoard. From there, they beelined for the garage. Steven so wanted to take the Corvette or the Charger, but with the wet pavement and snow in the air, he reluctantly decided on the Bronco.
His eyes flashed over the damaged Mercedes and seeing it made him both mad and scared. Aria … they had to find her before midnight; otherwise, she’d be forced to marry Rhaegen Mulk.
Steven found the keys and slipped in the driver’s seat. Tessa hit the passenger seat with the grimoire sitting on her lap. There was a loop of leather on the spine where the topaz pen fit perfectly. The barista turned Magician found the registration in the glove compartment. “Okay, no getting pulled over. The registration expired in 1997.”
That made sense. A year before he was born.
“If there’s trouble,” he said, “you protect my mom. I’ll do the fighting.”
Tessa nodded. “Yes, with my new magic spells, which I can cast, since I’m the Magician. Me. Fuck yeah!”
He grinned at her as he backed up the Bronco. He threw it into drive and they went screeching through the cave toward the exit. The magical entrance opened automatically, and he was back on the highway. They heard sirens below as well as the chatter of radios. Lights flashed in the cloudy day. That would be the police and a road crew to investigate the remnants of their battle with the yellow dragon. Getting past them would be difficult, so he spun the Bronco around.
They would have to take the long way.
Tessa’s phone had GPS and a map app, so she guided him over Lookout Mountain. They finally found I-70, and he roared west toward his mot
her’s house in Thornton. Tessa read the grimoire the entire way.
Twenty minutes later, he pulled up to the house in the lower-middle-class neighborhood where he’d grown up. A quaint yellow-brick ranch style, it had an attached one-car garage and a front lawn that had seen better days. The street was wide, quiet, and shaded by tall trees, which lined the walkways on both sides. Like his mom’s place, the other houses were mostly ranches—older, but well cared for. For the most part, at least. They both got out of the car. On such a wet, cloudy spring day, no one ventured out and the streets were empty.
A little mist rained from the sky with a snowflake or two thrown in to make things interesting.
Steven shivered at the chill, missing the warmth of the fires and the pools. Tessa nodded toward the house. “You go in first. I’ll be backup.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Steven walked up to his house, used his key, and opened the door. “Hey, Mom. You okay?” he called out, scanning the living room. The living room had been the same for twenty years: a couch and an easy chair, with afghans covering them just like doilies covered the neo-colonial end tables. The coffee table was also doily central, with a SCENIC COLORADO book of photography on it. Everything was in place, just like it should be. No sign of a struggle.
The delicious whiff of his mom’s cooking filled the house—waffles, breakfast sausage, eggs. Florence Whipp came out of the kitchen a moment later with batter on her nose. She was a thick middle-aged woman with wild hair, crow’s feet poking out from the corner of her eyes, and a face that liked to smile. Her hands were bright red with thick knuckles. They were the hands of a woman who had worked her entire life to make sure her son always had food and shelter, if not other opportunities.
“Steven!” She hurried over and hugged him. “I’m so sorry I missed your birthday. And I can’t find that necklace. He said it would be important, and I kept it around, but now I can’t find it. I feel so stupid.”
