by O'Brian Gunn
Golden-green eyes snap open and the wind picks up slowly, languidly. Mahogany tresses wave gently, buoyed by a gale sculpted from syrup. The Dragoness opens her mouth, inhales, and screams emerald flame.
Fire burns fire.
A ragged male scream raises hairs on the arms of those watching. He staggers back as verdant flames scorch through already burning skin. The pitch of his scream competes with that of The Dragoness until the sounds collide in the air in harmonic dissonance.
The burning man erupts in an exhilarant squall of cinders and luminosity.
The Dragoness picks a bit of ash from her arm, turning her attention to the others. “There’s enough suffering here for everyone.”
Damon doesn’t notice it as his mouth gapes open. “Who is that?”
Giorgio sips his merlot, rolling the liquid around on his tongue. “I honestly don’t know, but she complements this wine quite well.”
The Dragoness flings a body from her path and advances through the shower of bullets streaming from an automatic rifle. The man ejects the clip and slams another home without looking. His finger squeezes the trigger.
The Dragoness stops and revels in the sensation of being shot.
“More...more!” She opens her arms, throws her head back, and closes her eyes. A circle of non-powered humans surround her and spray her with murderous metal. Warped slugs ping and ting from her hardened skin down to the simmering pavement. The goddess begins to sing Emiliana Torrini’s “Wednesday’s Child,” her rich tones pouring over the battlefield like hypnotic syrup. Without warning, the singing, statuesque woman lunges left, slashes, dashes right, slashes, streams forward, slashes.
The scent of blood blows through the humid air.
Five bodies fall, ruptured throats baptizing the street in liquid life.
The Dragoness gives her hands a flick, clearing them of blood, as she sensuously arches her back. Large leather wings burst from her shoulder blades and fan out on either side of her. A small ahh escapes her curving mouth as she pushes herself from the ground and takes to the skies.
Noir rips off another strip of his shirt and wraps it around Perry’s stomach.
“Think I’m hallucinating.” The words drip drunkenly from the detective’s mouth.
“Naw, you ain’t hallucinatin’ nothin’, amigo.” Noir cinches the knot with care. “Everyone here just saw Bisset change into El Chupacabra.” He helps Perry to his feet. “Then again, El Chupacabra was never reported as bein’ so attractive...or smellin’ like honey and cloves with just a hint o’ cinnamon.”
“Did you know she could do that?”
Noir squints his eyes. “Checked her out once when I got my new peepers. Strangest damn thing. Like I was lookin’ at this...black...snake-like thing writhin’ around inside o’ her one minute, and nothin’ but golden light the next.” He watches The Dragoness smash through a launched boulder without pausing. “Knew somethin’ wasn’t normal about her.”
The Dragoness backhands the fired missile careening at her. The projectile detonates in her face, emitting a massive ball of flame, concussion, and sound that quakes the heavens. Seconds later she flies through the smoke, unscathed except for scorched jeans and burn marks eaten through her top.
B O O M !
Another missile that slows her for half a second.
B A - B O O M !
The warhead discharges. Air is violently and noisily ripped away. The explosion echoes slowly, fading gradually as eyes watch the skies. The wind blows. Curtains are parted. The missile launcher is lowered. Debris falls from the dispersing cloud.
The Dragoness bolts out of the black-gray murk, skin unblemished, hair streaming beautifully behind her with a cloud-tail trailing in her wake. She lands with absolute grace in front of the woman holding the smoking missile launcher, rips it from her grasp with one hand, breaking several fingers in her fury, and swings it in an arch.
Bones crunch, fracture, and snap. The woman glides through the air, crashes into the ground, rolls, and does not move.
“The next person who fires a projectile of any kind at me shall be the first to experience the full force of my ire. I don’t care if it’s a bullet or a paper airplane.” The launcher drops with a heavy clatter at The Dragoness’s feet. “I’ve been lenient up until now.”
She waits for a note of discontent.
And receives none.
Damon puts the phone to his ear and waits. He paces in front of the monitors, teeth grinding together. “Pick up the damn phone.” It rings. “Pick. Up. The. Damn. Phone.” It rings. “Pick up the fuc—Where the hell are you?” He listens.
Giorgio refills his glass and looks back to the battle, boosting himself up on the table.
“Send Eric out there, now.” Pause. He throws up a hand. “I don’t care if he has to drop the cavity around the town! If she finds the Johnsons, none of that will matter.” He listens. “Fine. Make sure it’s done.” He stabs a finger down on the red icon and glares at the phone before flinging it at the wall. He puts his hands on his waist and scrolls his eyes over at Giorgio.
The handsome man sips. “I imagine you wish you had my lack of emotional faculties right now.”
Damon seethes in silence.
Anita snatches Annabelle back from the window as the third missile goes off. She turns to Tina. “What in the world is going on out there?”
The young girl yanks her eyes from the burning cloud on the other side of the window. Nervousness raises a lump in her throat. “Si—Just sit down and shut up.” Her eyes dart. Empty hands wring. “Your dumbass husband died because he thought he was in ch—” She jerks her head down and looks at her empty hands. Eyes flare wide. She lifts her head as Anita lifts the gun abandoned on the couch.
Trigger is pulled.
Bullet flies.
“Uh!” Tina tips back when the bullet buries itself in the side of her neck. She feels her body go limp before she collapses on her side. The world blurs. Her blood pumps from torn veins.
Anita grips the handle of the gun to keep her hand from trembling. She shoves down the sob competing with the bile rising in her throat.
Her children stare at the body. “Is she...” Miguel swallows. “Mom, is she dead?” His lips part and he folds his truncated arms around himself. “Mom, you killed—” He swallows again. “Mom, you killed Tina. You killed her.”
Anita reaches for Annabelle’s hand, starts to do the same with Miguel and grabs him by the elbow instead. “We have to leave before they send someone else. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m hoping it’s enough for us to escape.”
Annabelle looks back at the shell that used to be Tina as her mother tugs her along. “Should we hide the body?”
“There’s no time, baby.” Anita yanks open the door and grinds to a halt when she notices the gangly boy on the porch. “Eric.”
His expression is somber. “I’m sorry.” He reaches behind him and pulls at the air.
The emerald dome around Thornebriar pulses into view before dropping. The temperature gradually begins to drop to something cooler as the sky flashes neon green while the air pressure rearranges itself in their ears. Day shifts to night. Eric steps off the porch, turns, and rips his hand upward.
The Cavity spills open in the air, suffusing the entire house in emerald brilliance before swallowing it whole.
Eric turns away from the dome and goes to face The Dragoness.
The bald man reaches behind him and a glossy javelin winks into his hand, the point gleaming in the streetlight. He waits until the light of the full moon illuminates The Dragoness before flinging the weapon with all his might, going into a little crow-hop as he whips his arm out and down.
The javelin splits through the air.
It nearly embeds itself in the flying woman’s throat before she absently snatches it out of the air, twirls it in her delicate hand, and slings it back.
Whhrrrrr-squelch
The weapon goes clean through the bald man’s stomach and bi
tes into the pavement, pinning him in place.
An emerald globe enfolds The Dragoness. Gravity gives out and vertigo attempts to rob her of her senses. Emerald fades and she is suddenly flying directly into a Humvee. She slams into the vehicle, rocks it, and slides it back on two tires before her momentum completely overturns the behemoth. A crater dents one side of the Humvee and shattered glass and mangled metal litter the ground on the other side.
The Dragoness stands, the tips of her fangs peeking out from her curled lips. Her furious eyes slice through the shadows and she sees the young man standing in the garage. He glows emerald. She rushes toward him where he stands inside the garage.
Sparkling green incandescence blinds her and she’s whisked ten feet back. She picks up the ruined Humvee with one hand, muscles scarcely flexing, and hurls it at him.
A green globe glitters. The Humvee vanishes.
“It was you, wasn’t it?” The Dragoness flaps her wings once and hovers in the air. “It was you who made Thornebriar vanish.” She vomits a stream of fire at him.
Eric glows, bursts apart in verdant motes and reshapes himself outside of the garage. “I didn’t want to do it. Damon forced me to.”
“You aren’t beholden to anyone or anything but the limits you place on yourself.” Smoke curls from her lips. “Tell me where the Johnsons are.” Her voice is serene.
“Hidden.”
“Mayfly, do not test me!” She lands, setting the ground to trembling. She bares her talons and shreds through the power he begins to wrap her in. He blinks and she has him by the throat. He lifts an arm and cries out when she grabs it, wrenches gently, and snaps it. “Answer me!”
He glares at her. Then he looks to the empty lot across the street and narrows his eyes. A house with blue shingles appears behind a lime haze. He looks back at her, concentrating on his breathing as she squeezes air from his windpipe.
She draws his ear close to her lush mouth. “I shall return the favor.” She releases his throat, turns, and prowls for the house with quicksilver poise rolling through every step.
Eric hauls in a lungful of air just before a curved wingtip lashes out at his throat. His trachea fills with blood. Death comes swiftly.
The Dragoness walks toward the house, staring down the armed guards who raise their firearms at her. They bravely cower back, slowly lowering their weapons.
The Dragoness slinks up the warmly lit porch steps to the door, raises her hand...and knocks three times. She cleans the blood and gore from her fingers while she waits, flicking and licking her nails clean. A little smile graces her lips when a woman peels the door open.
“Anita Johnson?”
“Yes?”
“I’m here to rescue you and your family. If you would follow me, please.”
Anita’s brow flexes. “Who are you?”
The Dragoness blinks, pressing her lips together. “Ma’am, I just informed you that I’m here to rescue you and yours. What more do you need?”
“I need to know who you are.”
The regal woman sighs and glances behind her. “I should have let them shoot the entire family.” She turns back. “My name is The—Bis—” She shakes her head and her hand. “We don’t have time for introductions now.” She gestures behind her. “These handsome men will make sure you leave the area safely. You won’t be harmed as long as you are with them. If you are, please let me know.”
Leo, Perry, Noir, and Sovereign walk onto the freshly cut lawn.
“But I—”
The Dragoness spins and walks down the steps, gliding past the others. “Get them out alive.”
“Where are you going, Bisset?” Sovereign reaches for her.
She stops. He stops. She turns her head halfway and looks at his hand. “My name is The Dragoness.” She turns back. “I’m going to bring about a satisfying conclusion.”
Her wings swell and she propels herself into the night sky. She cracks open her jaws and spews flame on Thornebriar, watching as people flee from their houses or burn inside them. She dives and smashes through Swift Mart before arching back up into the skies, trailing dust and bits of brick as she ascends.
She zips past the water tower in the center of the community and swipes a claw through steel. Water blasts out in an eager geyser of rainbow-infused mist and hydrostatic pressure.
Destruction rains along with water.
Damon leans against the console, watching as The Dragoness lays waste to the town. The Garden is on fire and the entrance to the lab is quickly filling with water. He drops his head and shakes it. After a long moment, he lifts his eyes and looks over at Giorgio watching it all with a blank expression.
“What are you going to do when she gets here?” He wipes his glasses on his shirt, hauling out frustration in a sigh.
“I honestly don’t know, especially if my decision is at odds with hers.”
“Do you even know how to give a straight answer?”
Giorgio twists his head at him. “What would you like for me to say? That I’ll try my best to kill her as soon as she sets foot in this room? That I’ll kill you as soon as she asks me to?”
Damon slips his glasses back on. “That would be an example of two straight answers, yes.” He squints at the monitors, tapping keys and adjusting angles. “The hell did she go?”
The door chirps, whizzes open.
“I hope you have a good reason for not guarding the door, Bernard.” Damon turns and feels his blood run cold and drain from his face when The Dragoness follows Bernard into the room.
She puts her hands on her hips. “Is it you who I have to thank for orchestrating all of this?”
The now-cool temperature begins to rise from the force of the flames. The sky is swathed in smoke and cinders. Citizens flee in the streets, cars sit idle and abandoned on the side of the pavement.
Leo blocks out most of the chaos on the other side of the force field he’s wrought around them. He casts his eyes back at the remaining Johnsons. The thought of asking them if they can still free his happiness from its internal cage burns on his tongue like cinders. He takes in the shared mourning saddling their faces, shoulders, and plodding footsteps, decides against it. He’ll bear it all a bit longer. Or so he hopes.
“Thank you for rescuing us.” Anita wipes at her sweaty forehead. “I wasn’t sure if that woman was going to kill us or help us.”
“I know the feeling.” Perry winces and clutches at his abdomen when he stumbles over a bump in the road, reluctantly grateful when Anita catches him. “Where’s Charles?”
The woman’s eyes begin to tear. Seconds slip by. “They killed him.”
Perry forces himself not to look away from her grief. “I’m sorry.”
She rubs Miguel’s shoulder. “We came to America from Ukraine. There, Alpha-Omegas are deified, revered for their unique abilities. Libera Mentis Machina contacted us and wanted us to try to bring change to America by posing as a normal American family that incidentally share a unique ability.” She sighs. “We were resistant. It seems as if there is nothing but terrible news streaming out from the U.S., poisonous tentacles that reach out to the rest of the world poisoning almost everything they touch.” Head shake. “Such horrors. Eventually, I was able to convince Charles that maybe we were given this ability to bring not only happiness, but positive change as well. I thought perhaps we were meant to help open the eyes of America, show you the way.”
“Sometimes prayers and ideas just aren’t enough.”
She nods. “Progress cannot be forced. My family has...had the ability to make people happy, but all we seem to bring is more sadness.” She blinks back something in her eyes. “Could you give us a moment, please?”
Perry nods and begins to slow his gait when Anita turns. “What is your name?”
“Perry West.”
“Thank you, Perry West. Thank you.” She turns with her children and continues on.
Adam sidles up next to the detective. The streets have gone silent, flames licking and
flickering their way towards heaven.
Adam clears his throat.
Perry brushes a bit of ash from his arm.
Adam eyes skip left and back.
Perry looks back at Noir who squints up at the flames, eyes gleaming with a gray sheen.
“You did a good job today.” Adam lifts his hand to Perry’s shoulder. Drops it. With hesitation.
“Yeah, helped us out a helluva lot when I went and got myself stabbed.” He touches the makeshift bandage. “Hate this.”
“What?”
“Feeling weak. Helpless.”
Adam shakes his head. “You’re anything but weak, Detective West. You brought all of us together. None of this would have happened without you.”
Perry remains silent.
“Alpha-Omegas may have special abilities, but that doesn’t make them any different from you. Not in every way, at least. We all make mistakes, question ourselves and our actions. Just because I’m invulnerable doesn’t make me untouchable.”
More silence.
Perry opens his mouth after a while. “So are we gonna have problems in the future? Think you can handle working with a cocksucker if the need arises?”
Adam cringes. “I go where the Lord leads me.”
Scoff. “I’ve known pathological liars who were less evasive.”
“I should kill you where you cower.” The Dragoness looks Damon up and down.
“Just a second ago you were thanking me.”
“Only because you gave us the opportunity to show my hostess who and what we are.”
Damon’s eyes narrow behind his glasses. “I don’t—”
The Dragoness slices her gaze to Giorgio. “Have you joined this little operation?”
Giorgio slides fingers through his curls. “The only side of the line I’m on is my own.”
“You are magnificent.”
They both turn to Damon.
He holds up his hands. “I hate to interrupt, but you are.” He takes a step closer to her. “The way you brushed off the impact of a Hades missile at point blank range was—” His expression grows giddy. “I’d love to examine you.” His head bobs. “If I could.”
