The first thing Sales the overseer did upon her return was to hit her so hard in the face with his closed fist she fell to the ground. Kicks followed, breaking ribs and filling her with a pain so raw she cried out. Pain was new to her, and now that she’d had her first taste she didn’t want more, but knew this was only the beginning. He dragged her to her feet, then across the field to a large tree, all the while screaming at her with such ferocity, his spittle sprayed her face. He forced her arms around the tree and tied her to it using a length of stout hemp around her wrists. Blessedly It wasn’t iron but it didn’t matter, she had neither power nor strength. The surface of the trunk against her face had no bark and was smooth as glass. It was stained with a red that could only be blood. A whipping tree. How many other captives would’ve had to stand in this place for their blood to become so embedded. Her knees weakened at the reality of the answer. And where was the transformation her father promised?
But there was no time for further questions. Granger arrived, carried on a litter by Jeremiah and three male slaves. She gloried in the sight of him bandaged from head to feet. The other captives stood gathered a few feet away. She sensed by their sad stoic faces that they weren’t there by choice. She was being used as both an example and a warning.
The itch in her back seemed to have caught fire and her spine felt as it were roiling and moving in and out as if taking breaths. Sales grabbed her attention when he moved close and showed her the whip. He growled something and using his hands split the shift covering her back in two. He gasped in shock. Aya cautiously turned her head and saw her spine had developed an enormous hump. To her further surprise the flesh over it was moving as if harboring something alive. Sales eyes grew wide. She saw him hastily glance Granger’s way. She again wondered about the nature of the root she’d been given until the lash of the whip flayed her back like a bolt of lightning and it took all she had to keep her screams inside. Again, and again the terrible whip scored her. Closing her eyes, she prayed to every Immortal she knew, but the whip kept falling until her knees sagged and the blood ran down to her hips. Someone was screaming and she realized it was she. In the dizzying haze of the pain she thought she’d gone mad upon hearing a voice in her head, say, “Hold on, little one. It’s almost time.”
“Mother?” her mind whispered back.
“No. I am more.”
The crack of the whip became unceasing as did the agony. Sales seemed intent upon whipping her to death and she, who’d long since lost all sense of time and place prayed it would come soon. Then a row of raised scales sharp as African diamonds exploded from her spine. Her body began expanding and the rope on her wrists snapped as her arms elongated, talons the color of obsidian replaced the nails on her hands and feet, and her skin began changing from brown to scales of faceted greens, indigo and blacks. Those gathered around the tree fled in terror, while the voice in her head exhaled a sigh filled with pleasure and relief. “Finally. Finally.”
Aya realized that somehow her height now surpassed the tops of the trees. With wondrous emerald eyes, she took stock of herself. Her arms now unfurled into wings and her legs were muscled and strong. She had no idea what her face looked like but she used her large claws to gauge it. She had a snout and a mouth filled with long, razor sharp teeth. “What am I?”
The female voice replied, “Humans name you, Dragon.”
Aya’s head swam giddily.
“And now that I have given you my form, I must leave. I’ve been waiting in my root for the final sleep a very long time.”
Aya sensed the dragon’s presence drawing away. “Wait. Please don’t go, I have so many questions.”
“All answers can be found in the land behind the veil of Africa’s snow topped mountain, so use your wings.”
“I can fly home!”
“Of course. But first, burn the male Fire spirit below you so he can be free, too. Then, if you choose lay waste to this terrible place. Good bye, little one.”
And she was gone. Aya spent a few moments assessing and appreciating the beauty of her new form, and the unlimited power she sensed it held. Thank you, Mother. She turned her attention to Jeremiah standing below her beside the dropped litter. He was the only person who hadn’t fled, unless one counted Granger who was doing his best to crawl away on his useless legs.
“Jeremiah!” Her deep voice shook the ground.
He smiled up. “You’re very beautiful.”
She lowered her head to see his face clearly. “Thank you. I can free you, but I have to burn the body you’re in.”
“Please.”
She had no idea how to do what was needed, but when she opened her mouth a gentle stream of flame cascaded over him as if she’d been wielding it her entire life. Out of the blackened flesh he rose in dazzling, jewel toned flames of his own and disappeared. She wished him well.
Turning her eyes to Granger who now lay shaking with fear, she voiced, “I will let you live if you pledge not to purchase more Africans.”
“To hell with you!” was his answer.
Her reply transformed him into a smoldering pile of ash.
From there, she took the dragon mother’s advice and laid fiery waste to his land. The only thing she left untouched was the whipping tree out of respect to all those who’d shed their blood there. Granger’s captives had fled and she hoped they’d find sanctuary. Surely there were people somewhere in this awful place who believed buying another human being was wrong.
She took flight, and the beauty of her newfound freedom brought tears to her emerald eyes. She couldn’t wait to see home. She did a few practice glides and headed east. Far below, she spotted the overseer Sales on the seat of a fast-moving wagon. When he looked up and saw her he whipped the horses to get more speed. It didn’t matter. She left him as ash, too, and flew on.
As a way of saying goodbye, she banked low over the town that held the pens and enjoyed the sight of the people below running like ants. The pens held captives, so she spared them but not the nearby buildings or the empty slave ships tied up at the dock in the harbor. Those she burned gladly. She then flew east over the ocean for the answers awaiting her back home in the land behind the veil of Africa’s snow topped mountain.
THE END
Discover More by Beverly Jenkins
The Blessings Series (contemporaries)
BRING ON THE BLESSINGS
A SECOND HELPING
SOMETHING OLD, SOMETHING NEW
A WISH AND A PRAYER
A HEART OF GOLD
FOR YOUR LOVE
STEPPING TO A NEW DAY
CHASING DOWN A DREAM
Old West Series (historicals)
FORBIDDEN
BREATHLESS
The Destiny Trilogy (historicals)
DESTINY’S EMBRACE
DESTINY’S SURRENDER
DESTINY’S CAPTIVE
Grayson Family Series (historicals)
VIVID
JEWEL
Historicals
MIDNIGHT
NIGHT HAWK
INDIGO
CAPTURED
WINDS OF THE STORM
SOMETHING LIKE LOVE
A CHANCE AT LOVE
BEFORE THE DAWN
ALWAYS AND FOREVER
THE TAMING OF JESSI ROSE
THROUGH THE STORM
NIGHT SONG
PRISONER OF LOVE (novella)
BELLE (young adult)
JOSEPHINE (young adult)
Contemporary Romantic Suspense
DEADLY SEXY
SEXY/DANGEROUS
BLACK LACE
THE EDGE OF DAWN
THE EDGE OF MIDNIGHT
About the Author
Beverly Jenkins is the recipient of the 2017 Romance Writers of America Nora Roberts Lifetime Achievement Award, as well as the 2016 Romantic Times Reviewers’ Choice Award for historical romance. She has been nominated for the NAACP Image Award in Literature, was featured both in the documentary “Love Between the Covers
” and on CBS Sunday Morning. Since the publication of Night Song in 1994, she has been leading the charge for multicultural romance, and has been a constant darling of reviewers, fans, and her peers alike, garnering accolades for her work from the likes of The Wall Street Journal, People Magazine, and NPR.
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