Spark of Lightning: Storm Warden Chronicles Book 1

by Jessica Gunn

  Safe, not really. But free.

  It was a simple plan. One I hope worked.

  The hatchling trilled loudly—a happy sound—as she nuzzled her head against my neck all the while tiny little sparks of lightning shivered across her scaled body. It made the hair on my arms and neck stand painlessly on end.

  “Yeah, yeah,” I said. “I’m glad you’re safe too.”

  I hope I can keep you safe.

  Which was weird because twenty minutes ago I could have sold the egg off as easily as finding a fence to do so for me.

  One thing at a time. Get across Boston Commons to my apartment. Get to a T stop. Wait out the hours until the commuter rail ran again.

  “Please stop the light show if you can.” The waves of harmless lightning did nothing to help us hide in the darkness.

  Almost as if she understood, the hatchling stopped being an electrical conductor.

  “Thank you, little one.”

  I took off in a sprint, clutching the hatchling tightly to my chest. She continued trilling. At least someone was enjoying our escape. My feet fell faster and faster against the uneven cobblestone pathways. Soon, I’d left Boston Commons and hooked a right, heading down the road to my apartment building.

  “Wait!” someone shouted behind me. Their voice sounded familiar, though strained, but I didn’t stop to look around and see. I simply couldn’t chance it.

  Apartment. T. Commuter Rail. Freedom. I repeated it over and over again in my head like a mantra. This wasn’t exactly the way I wanted to finally leave Boston, but it’d have to do.

  “Vera!”

  Great. It was someone who knew me by name. Female. Possibly human? Gods. I’d never given worry to that before—not really. Whether someone calling my name was human or a supernatural.

  It had never mattered before tonight.

  I picked up the pace, and so did they. My heart beat in time with every footstep the both of us took. The hatchling shifted in my arms and looked up to me with wide, concerned eyes. Intelligent eyes. Almost too intelligent for a simple reptile.

  “Shh,” I said to her. “Stay calm. Please. Don’t try to fly away.” Could dragons even fly this young?

  A hand grabbed my elbow and pulled me around.

  I spun, moving the baby dragon to one hip, and held up my other hand. “You can’t have her!”

  Halley, my boss, stared back at me with both her hands raised in front of her. “Easy.”

  “What are you doing here?” My chest heaved with heavy breaths. She’d always been like a second mother or sister to me. Please don’t tell me you’re after the dragon too.

  Halley lifted her eyebrows. “I don’t want her. I just wanted to give you this.” She slowly reached for one of her pockets. “You’re going to need it more than I will. A whole lot more.”

  I froze, my breath catching, as she pulled out a small black object from her oversized university jacket. Then, with it, a folded-up wad of cash.

  “Halley…” I trailed off. A gun and some money. What was I going to do with this? “Does this mean I’m fired?” I chuckled dryly. We both knew I wasn’t ever coming back to work at Lunar Royale after tonight.

  Halley smiled sadly. Away from the VIP lounge, Halley wasn’t that uptight a person. I’d learned that at an after-hours outing somewhere between round three of drinks and some bad karaoke.

  Suddenly, tears stung my eyes. I’d seen the people I had worked with at Lunar Royale more often than my own family for years. And now… Now I might have just lost both families for good.

  She held up a hand. “Take it.”

  “No.”

  “Vera.” Her voice was low and steady—deadly serious. She lifted her eyebrows as though talking to a small child who didn’t understand. I supposed that was true. “You shouldn’t have been in that game tonight. Kristian shouldn’t have invited you and they shouldn’t have let you win. I don’t know why they did or if it was just the dealer.” She stopped and shook her head, then pushed both items out to me again. “That’s probably crazy talk. It’s all a game of chance. Take these. Protect yourself and get the hell out of Boston before sunrise. Even if you don’t want to keep the dragon, you’re a target in whatever is coming.”

  I blinked, trying to wrap my head around her impossible words. I had to leave. But… “What is coming? What are you talking about?”

  She shifted her weight to her back foot and glanced up at the skyscrapers in the distance. “I’ve heard things. Whispers. Now and again during poker games and around the casino in the VIP rooms. Some kind of battle. A war, maybe.” She glanced back to me. “You’re…” Her vision narrowed, her eyebrows scrunching.

  “A war between the supernaturals?” I had no idea what made her look at me like that. “I assumed as much given that they were playing for a dragon egg.”

  The hatchling, as if on cue, crawled up my side and onto my shoulder in a sudden and swift motion. She leaned her head against mine and emitted a tiny snarl at Halley. Which was equal parts cute and terrifying. Adorable because the snarl was really more of a soft whirring sound. Terrifying because one day she’d grow to become like the dragons from myth and that meant stealing livestock, shredding enemies, and breathing fire. Or in her case, lightning, if the previous light show had been any indication.

  I bit my lip and reached a hand up to comfort the hatchling. “Easy there. She’s a friend.”

  The hatchling hissed again.

  Halley actually backed up a step. “Be careful, Vera. And hurry. Don’t get more involved in this than you already are.”

  “I won’t.” I’d had enough attention for one day. Twelve hours ago I might have done anything for it. I had always wanted to become someone on my own merits, to be a part of something that mattered. But not this—not a looming conflict. Not babysitter of a baby dragon. Not hunted by the supernatural leaders of this city for a prize I’d not even wanted in the first place.

  Halley gave me one last concerned, almost motherly look before reaching for my hands once more. The hatchling snarled again but didn’t leave my shoulder as Halley gripped my hand tight, closed her eyes, and muttered something under her breath. In her quick movements, moonlight glinted off a pendant hanging around her neck—a star. Warmth filled the hand she was holding and a glowing energy briefly flashed.

  “What—”

  Halley let go. “A blessing. Go safely, and may the starlight guide you.”

  She gave me no time to question what that meant, as in the next second she had begun walking away from the hatchling and I.

  I’d have to disappear just as quickly.

  After shifting the baby dragon back into my arms from my shoulder—which she fought, digging her talons into my shoulder hard enough to draw blood—I continued toward my apartment. With a weapon in hand, I was more confident. Barely. Enough to keep moving despite the waters of uncertainty rising around me. I’d used a gun before a few years ago. My uncle had taken me to a range and taught me the basics. But I’d never owned one before and hadn’t used one since.

  As for the rest… May the starlight guide you. I might need something more solid than starlight as a guide for this misadventure.

  I gulped. I could call my parents. Maybe if I told them everything, they’d understand. Maybe they could help after all.

  Or… or maybe they’d see more of the failure they’d raised, who’d gotten so bored, she managed to interweave herself in the middle of a coming supernatural war.

  Rather than pick up my phone and call them, I kept walking.

  My apartment building, a small townhouse turned into apartments squeezed between a pub and a record store, was quiet. I stepped into the lobby and crossed to the stairs on quick feet. Please let no one be around. Please let me and this hatchling get into my apartment without being seen. The longer I wasn’t seen with her, the safer we would be.

  Up three flights of stairs and to the right. I slid my key into the lock and turned the knob. Then I slowly pushed the door open, liste
ning for any noises inside. I wouldn’t pretend the top supernaturals in Boston didn’t have the resources to find out where I lived. Especially when I hadn’t used a fake name or anything. My time was running out.

  Silence reigned inside, except for some excited trilling near my ear.

  “Shh,” I said again, giving the hatchling a pat down her back. “Please. We must be quiet.”

  More trilling ensued as she nudged her head against mine.

  A heavy sigh slipped between my lips. Is this what having children was like? Constant noise and a lack of appreciation for how dire circumstances could be?

  Pushing the door open the rest of the way, I peeked inside my studio apartment. The lights were off and silence echoed. There wasn’t a soul inside except for me and the hatchling, and nothing appeared to be out of place.

  I glanced to the snout taking up my peripheral vision. “Okay, little one. We’re here to pack a few things and be on our way.”

  I set her down on the countertop. Her talons slid along awkwardly as she tested out the respectively slippery countertop versus the ground she’d hatched on. After a few moments of sliding and scratching, she looked up at me with somewhat questioning eyes. Was that “Why’d you put me on this?” or “When are you going to pick me back up again?”

  I sighed, frustration building, and pinched the bridge of my nose. “You’re just a baby. A newborn.” I needed to calm down. Think. Be rational.

  A jar of Oreos—my guilty pleasure—slid off the counter. The ceramic shattered as the cookies spilled across the floor. The hatchling screeched in surprise and scuttled across the countertop away from it toward the fridge.

  “Good going.”

  Normally, I’d have cleaned it up right away to avoid issues with ants or other unwanted creatures. But I didn’t intend on being here come sunup, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever be back.

  Luckily, as I glanced around the studio apartment quickly, I realized there weren’t a lot of things that I owned. There were even less that I wanted to bring with me.

  “Can I trust you to be good while I pack a few things?” I asked the baby dragon.

  She cocked her head to the side like a dog might and trilled some more. Then her tail flopped playfully.

  “Right. Didn’t think so. Please try, though.”

  It seemed like she understood me perfectly, even if she couldn’t respond. That alone was weird. That a newborn creature was this intelligent. What other secrets did she hold?

  I tossed this thought over and over in my mind as I hurried around my small apartment. I grabbed a backpack and threw in a few shirts and an extra pair of jeans. A blanket for the baby dragon. I didn’t have a pet, much less any idea how to take care of something like a dragon. What else might she need that I already had?

  My stomach sank as stories of dragons swooping down on fields of sheep and cows filtered to the forefront of my thoughts. I turned back to her. “What exactly do you like to eat?”

  Like a newborn had any idea.

  Seemingly proving my point, she turned and began sniffing around my kitchen.

  Whatever, maybe she’d find something to eat for me. The building wasn’t the best in town. There was every chance she’d find a few rodents in the walls.

  Not that I was sure I wanted her to eat that.

  Gods. What the hell was I doing?

  Leaving the dragon to her business, I returned to minding my own. I shoved my wallet and some clothes into the bag along with my passport and some extra cash I’d stashed some time ago for emergencies. If winning a baby dragon in a poker game against the highest-ranking supernaturals in Boston didn’t count as an emergency, then I didn’t know what would.

  “That’s it. Essentials packed.” I spun toward the dragon, the weight of Halley’s gun still on my hip. “Now what about—Hey!”

  I caught her just as she was about to knock down a vase of purple and blue flowers I’d bought myself a few days ago. She met my eyes and gave me a toothy dragon grin before swiping her tail at it. The glass crashed to the ground, shattering across the floor and sending glass shards and water flying.

  Breathe. Eyes closed, I pulled in a deep breath. “That’s not nice.”

  The dragon trilled.

  “I’m going to start calling you ‘Trouble.’”

  She tilted her head at me again. Her eyes were expectant. Like she knew that wasn’t a real name or something—or like… she already had one? Wasn’t that how it worked in dragon mythology? Hell if I knew. I hadn’t read a book about dragons in over ten years.

  Slowly, I approached my troublemaker as I slid the backpack straps onto each shoulder. “Do you already have a name, Trouble?”

  She bowed her head deeply, then glanced up at me with that charming, I’m-definitely-trouble-incarnate dragon grin again.

  “Is that a yes?”

  She held the stare. No response. Or maybe the stare was her response.

  “Listen, I’ve never even met a dragon before. I didn’t realize they still existed. So if you could help me out at all, that’d be great.” I said… to a baby. I was talking to a newborn baby dragon as if it were a walking, talking adult human.

  The hatchling rose and lifted her head high, stretching her wings. From the very tips of her leathery appendages, lightning crackled. It sent tingles of awareness down my arms, raising the hair there. Then a small arc traveled across the distance to my hand. Like before, there was no pain, only the gentle wave of the dragon’s magic over my skin.

  Flashes crossed my mindscape. Images of flying up high. Scales. A burning trail of stone careening across the sky toward the ground.

  I jumped back, yelping as the meteor struck the ground. I blinked wildly. “What was that?”

  The dragon stopped sparking lightning and looked up at me.

  Was it possible?

  “You?” I asked her. “How did you do that? What did you do?”

  BANG. BANG. BANG.

  The door to my apartment shook two feet away from us. The hatchling screeched and hopped onto my shoulder, clawing at my neck and back. I reached up and attempted to pull her away, all the while saying, “Shh. Stop. It’s okay. It’s just the door.”

  Not many knew where I lived. Fewer ever visited without me asking them over.

  I gulped and readjusted the backpack on my shoulder. Do I even check to see who was there? Or just go out my fire escape?

  Three loud bangs sounded again, shaking dust from the top of the doorframe. I cringed. The baby dragon took a defensive position and growled the way she had at Halley not long ago. I clamped a quick hand around her snout.

  “No. Shh. Stay quiet,” I hissed.

  She fought my hold for a few seconds before giving in to my command. Maybe she could sense the way my heart pounded in my chest. She could definitely see the sweat beaded on my brow as her tiny, gold dragon eyes were level with them.

  I tiptoed toward to the door and slowly put my eye against the little window there.

  Black boots. Dark jeans with holes on the knees. A woman stooped down and waved at the door as waves of her blonde hair fell over one shoulder. “I know you’re there, Vera.”

  Crap. Shawna. My neighbor next door. She’d probably heard the dragon knock down the vase. I groaned quietly. The hatchling echoed with a low, vibrating growl. I squeezed a little tighter on her snout.

  Nope. Not opening this door. Shawna would want to come inside, and right now I was hiding this baby dragon who seemed to have completely imprinted on me. And most importantly, given that I had no idea how much trouble I’d actually gotten myself into—and how serious Kristian’s threat had been—I couldn’t involve her, either.

  “Vera,” she said, drawing out the sound of my name. “Come on. I just want to make sure you’re okay. That was a loud crash.”

  The hatchling nudged my neck with the end of her snout.

  “Come on,” I said, turning toward the window on the opposite side of the room, next to my pull-out couch. “We’re going out t
he back. Hang on tight.” I looked her right in her beautiful gold-and-blue reptile eyes. “Please don’t make a sound.”

  I let go of her snout, ready to grab it again. But she didn’t make a single trill.

  “Good girl.” I couldn’t help but smile at her. “Now let’s go.”

  Leaving on the lights and my entire life behind me, I opened up the window beside the couch and climbed out onto the fire escape. The night was as silent as one would expect at nearly three in the morning. There was even now a bit of a bite in the air. I must have been too high on adrenaline earlier to have noticed it. I reached for my jacket lying on the nearby couch, removed my dragon for a moment, and quickly pulled the jacket on before scooping the hatchling back up again.

  Good thing the living artifact on my shoulder also seemed to be a mini heat-conductor. I reached up and rested a hand on her back, patting it. We’d keep warm together. We had to.

  “We’ll be fine,” I told her. “Only a few more hours until freedom.”

  She nuzzled against my head again as if echoing the sentiment.

  Then I took off down the fire escape and back into the night, headed for the subway stop.

  Chapter 6

  By sunrise, other people milled around the subway station. At first, it was mostly weirdos and drunks who paid neither me nor the dragon any mind. As the subway began to fill with other passengers waiting for the commuter rail, more and more sober individuals kept staring our way. Doubly so when I bought two breakfast sandwiches and proceeded to attempt feeding my dragon one of them.

  I turned away from them so that the dragon was between me and the wall. “Quick,” I told her. Digging around my backpack, I quickly displaced the dragon and my jacket, pulled out a long-sleeved shirt and yanked it over my head, then tugged my jacket back on. It didn’t really create as much room as I wanted, but I held open the backpack anyway. “Get inside.”

  The hatchling obeyed without question, which was more than I probably deserved from this newborn-going-on-toddler. She… sort of fit. Not really. Her front legs, long neck, and very draconic head remained on the outside of the pack. But at least her wings were now hidden.