In Pursuit of Dragons

by Anne Renwick

  Zia jerked‌—‌but didn’t fight‌—‌as he slid the sharp, steel needle between two scales. A second later, blood rushed into the syringe as he pulled back the plunger, collecting ten milliliters of red dragon’s blood. More than enough. He pressed another ball of cotton to the injection site as Zia flicked her tongue, largely unperturbed. Handing the sample to Natalia, he reminded himself why this needed to happen. That vial alone would sell for thousands on the black market. The least of the cruelties that Zia would endure should Rathail manage to take possession of their dragon.

  Spinning in a circle upon her carpet, Zia turned, dropping her head into his lap, demanding attention in reparation for injury. He obliged, happy to soothe his own regrets.

  At her workbench, Natalia carefully measured a white powder out onto a creased square of paper, weighing it upon a microscale. Satisfied, she mixed the chemical with the dragon’s blood in a crucible, then proceeded to remove tiny samples, using litmus paper to test the acidity of the solution. Twisting her lips, she repeated the procedure. When the color of the sample finally turned a deep green‌—‌rather than a yellow-green‌—‌she drew the neutralized blood into a new syringe.

  She knelt beside him. “Ready?”

  “Resigned is perhaps the better term.” He rolled the cuff of his sleeve above his elbow and tied a tourniquet. A blue vein stood in relief against his skin.

  Swallowing, she set her jaw and took aim with the needle. He loved that, her determined persistence, her refusal to ever surrender. But her hand shook ever so slightly and the angle of her approach ensured a miss. His heart swelled and the corner of his mouth hitched upward. Earlier she’d pointed the tip of a sword at him, now she struggled to jab him with a tiny needle. He wrapped his fingers about hers and adjusted her aim. “Have you ever done this before?”

  “No.” She swallowed.

  “I’ll guide the needle; you inject the blood.” With his help, the sharp tip pierced the skin of his forearm and slid at an angle into his vein. “Good. Now press the plunger down.”

  She squeezed slowly, sending dragon’s blood rushing into his blood vessels, then withdrew the needle. “Done.” She exhaled, releasing the breath she was holding. “Do you feel anything?”

  Not once in the Ural Zavód had a single scientist inquired about his comfort. If anything, Dimitri Kravchuk had taken a certain glee from Luke’s pain as the foreign fluid coursed into his body, burning a path through his arteries to perfuse his tissues. Sadistic, when a few moments with a simple chemical could have alleviated all the pain.

  Needing her close, he wrapped his hand about her neck, over the soft wool of her scarf, and drew her forehead against his, breathing in her sweet, spicy scent. Then, closing his eyes, he considered her question. No pain rushed through his blood vessels. His heart rate was stable, his respiration unaffected. “Nothing yet. Save the slight strengthening of a headache.” An understatement. As they sat, an otherwise peaceful scene upon the hearth, his headache‌—‌one that never quite left him anymore‌—‌crept up the back of his head and sank its claws into his temples. “But I haven’t slept much in the past few days.” Another understatement. He’d been in a hurry to reach her side, sleeping only when exhaustion forced him to seek out a pile of hay in a nearby barn.

  Setting aside the syringe, she stood and held out a hand. “Come. We’ll discuss your plans for Zia and Sasha later, after you’ve rested.”

  “I’m fine here. On the hearthrug.” The room he’d once occupied was at the other side of the castle over the kitchens. Too far.

  “Nonsense. We’ll begin as we mean to go on.” A slight blush tinged her cheeks. “You’ll take my bed. Alone this time.”

  He took her hand and rose, unable to remember the last time he’d slept upon a mattress that wasn’t infested with one biting insect or another. “I’m filthy.” The castle hadn’t been modernized. In the past, he’d made use of the nearby river, but inside Castle Kinlarig, his only options were a wet cloth or a hip bath in cold water‌—‌water she would have to carry from the courtyard’s well.

  A half shrug. “There’s an ewer and pitcher, but you might as well topple directly into bed. I’ve not yet sold all the extra sheets.” Natalia pulled him toward the curving stairs that led to her bedchamber.

  He followed, unwilling to resist, and when she yanked back the bedcovers and gave him a gentle shove, he fell onto her soft, feather-filled mattress with a weary sigh and closed his eyes. Much as he wished to tug her to his side, waves of exhaustion dragged him down. Later, after he’d rested.

  She drew a blanket over him. “Luke?” Her words were a soft, warm whisper at his ear.

  “Yes?” He struggled to crack an eyelid.

  “I must ask.” Her face was suffused with pain. “At the Ural Zavód, did you ever encounter one Dimitri Kravchuk?”

  Luke cursed and his head pounded. So much for drifting into a peaceful slumber. “He’s the bastard responsible for my suffering. He’s dead now.” Probably. He had planted a knife in the man’s thigh and left him bleeding out on the floor. Far too quick and kind an end for such a monster. But even if Luke had been inclined to repay the man for all the pain he had inflicted, only a narrow window of time had been open to him. Luke had snatched the man’s keys, unfettered his fellow prisoners and uncaged the dragon.

  “Good.”

  Luke didn’t care for the distant tone of her voice or the way she averted her eyes. “You knew him.” A statement, not a question.

  “Yes.” Still as a statue, Natalia’s face hardened. Her voice grew cold and ice crept into her eyes. “He was my father’s protégé and would have been the logical choice to succeed him, to carry on my father’s work.”

  “Your father’s work,” he repeated. Had Kravchuk turned unwanted attentions upon his mentor’s daughter? “Did he hurt you? What aren’t you telling me?”

  “I’ve a lesson.” She spun away, lifting a sword propped against the wall. “William. He acts as my eyes in the village and will have news of Rathail’s man. Any sign of recovery, and he’ll send warning. You can rest without worry.” With a zing, she slid the sword into a scabbard, strapping both to the belt at her waist. She could defend herself should trouble return but, damn it, he wished himself fit to fight by her side.

  “Kravchuk, who was he to you?” he asked, ignoring the vise that clamped about his skull. Though he was certain he wouldn’t like the answer, he had to know.

  Natalia slid a knife into her boot, then lifted fierce eyes to meet his. “A man I once thought to marry.”

  Chapter Five

  Natalia rubbed her hand absently over the base of her neck beneath her scarf as she flipped through the pages of Papa’s notebook, scanning his detailed records. Even now, three years later, evidence of her father’s act of treason was still embedded in her very skin. Evidence of the unauthorized and reckless experiment that had restored her ability to walk, but sent her into permanent exile. His supervisors had been furious when he refused to explain what he had done with the dragon’s eggshell after the hatchling crawled free.

  Can I do this? No need to offer Luke false hope if she couldn’t.

  She was an organic chemist. Any and all biological knowledge she possessed had been absorbed at home, when Papa had rambled on about the propagation of “stem cells”, a term first used by the German scientist Ernst Haeckel. Not her field, but a fascinating concept nonetheless.

  Dragon’s blood contained a scattering of rare hematopoietic cells. Those her father had been able to isolate only hinted at the potential of those stem cells he had cultivated from the extraembryonic tissues of Zia’s newly-hatched egg. Cells he had used to cure his only child, Natalia.

  True, the implantation of dragon stem cells came with unexpected‌—‌and not always welcome‌—‌side effects, but they also held out the possibility of curing the man she loved. Loved. Luke, the only man to ever capture her heart.

  Out of tradition and convenience, she’d agreed to marry Dimit
ri Kravchuk, hoping they might one day grow to care for each other. Marrying the Laird of Kinlarig had been a desperate grab at a brighter future. Both had been a mistake. She’d not truly known either man, but Luke? Attraction had been instantaneous, but the friendship‌—‌and eventually love‌—‌had grown over the space of many months. For him, she would do her best to replicate Papa’s work.

  She possessed a fuge. The glassware, the pipettes and test tubes were ready and waiting. The reagents she could mix. She could even cobble together a makeshift incubator. But the growth media‌—‌a liquid that would approximate body fluids‌—‌was an impossibility. There was no choice but to skip the growth phase of Papa’s instructions, using only the primary stem cells she could collect.

  Movement caught her eye. William, out in the courtyard, had begun his warmup drills. Son of a local mill-worker, he’d stumbled upon one of her training sessions while delivering coal. The boy‌—‌young man, really‌—‌had begged for lessons. She’d agreed. With Luke gone, she’d needed a sparring partner, someone to keep her skills sharp in the event that her whereabouts would one day be discovered.

  They had. But not until her own husband betrayed her. Her jaw tensed. It was proving impossible to set aside her anger at him, at Dimitri Kravchuk, as their sins continued to haunt her.

  Natalia closed the notebook and tucked it back in a drawer. Once Luke was rested, they would need to discuss the possibilities and risks of such a treatment. Was she a fool to invite him to her bed‌—‌push him into it‌—‌when he’d yet to lay eyes on her concealed deformity? He loved Zia so very much, but perhaps he wouldn’t want a woman who was part dragon‌—‌if only the tiniest fraction‌—‌in his arms. In his life. For that was what she wanted, wasn’t it? To not just share a bed, but a life?

  Regardless, she needed to show him, and soon. It would be irresponsible of her not to reveal the possible long-term and unpredictable side effects of dragon stem cell therapy. And if he turned away from her in disgust, well, that was his prerogative. His choice to reject the possibility of a complete recovery‌—‌at least physically‌—‌from his time in the Ural Zavód.

  For now, she had a lesson to teach. She snatched up two swords, dull and blunted ones intended only for practice, then grabbed a third, sharpened rapier. William had earned it.

  Striding through the great hall, her mind circled back to Dimitri Kravchuk. May his corpse rot in hell. To think she’d thought to marry him. When she’d fallen from the cliffs‌—‌moments after discovering the dragon’s cave, a nest filled with eggs within‌—‌had he climbed down to her aid? No. Instead, he’d climbed up the last few feet to the cave and disappeared inside. While others attended to her on the ground, bracing her neck, carrying her home. Her fists tightened on the blades she held.

  Not only had he not come to his mentor’s defense when Papa broke protocol to save her‌—‌performing a procedure forever marking her as different‌—‌Dimitri Kravchuk had taken it as a personal affront that anyone dared touch any part of the dragon eggs which he himself had collected from the nest. He’d made her father’s life a living hell.

  Fearing they were to be sent to a katorga labor camp in Siberia for his actions, her father had bid her to pack. They were leaving, fleeing Russia, stealing away with Zia and Yuri‌—‌two tiny hatchlings‌—‌in hopes of establishing a breeding colony as well as his research on foreign soil. But Papa had never reached the train. Shot by their pursuers‌—‌guards who intended the same end for Natalia‌—‌he’d fallen, dead before his body hit the ground. Weeping, she had snatched up his notebook and run, leaping onto the already-moving train, determined to reach Scotland and carry out his wishes. But Yuri was sickly and‌—‌despite her every effort to keep the dragonets warm and properly fed‌—‌Zia alone survived the journey.

  Without a male, there was no hope of a breeding colony. And so Natalia kept her secret‌—‌and Papa’s notebook‌—‌carefully concealed. But now, with Dimitri Kravchuk the likely villain responsible for Luke’s condition, it was time to dust off old, unhappy memories and turn them out into the light so that she could right the wrong done to him. To unwind her scarf and share with Luke the one story she’d never told.

  Much had changed in the past few hours. She could at last see a path forward if only he would agree to her plans. Yet she needed to rein in her expectations. One step at a time, for there were numerous obstacles yet to hurdle.

  “Lady Kinlarig?” Aileen’s voice managed to be both subservient and disapproving at the same time. It wore on her nerves. “A moment of your time?”

  Natalia stopped in the foyer. As it was connected to the kitchens, it was all but impossible to enter or exit the castle without Aileen taking note. “Yes, Aileen?” She pressed her lips together and braced herself.

  With only four years between them, they ought to have been friends. As it was, they barely managed to occupy the same room. Resentment permeated their every interaction. Natalia‌—‌a foreigner of no consequence‌—‌had married the town’s most eligible bachelor, simultaneously achieving the dream of every young woman in town and snatching away the very possibility that they might one day become the lady of the castle. No matter Kinross had been a miserable prize. Aileen disliked Zia even more, blaming the arrival of the dragon for ruining her life. The enforced secrecy of all activities within the castle made her existence a rather lonely one. Not once had Natalia seen her pet Zia, though of late the woman had made a few tentative overtures toward befriending the dragon. Perhaps out of fear of becoming her next victim?

  “Shall I air out Mr. Dryden’s former bedchamber?” Eyebrows raised, Aileen leaned to the side, looking behind Natalia as if expecting Luke to appear.

  The rooms above the kitchen‌—‌the warmest in the castle‌—‌were currently occupied by McKay and his granddaughter. An unusual privilege, but given a mere three individuals lived within the castle walls and that her butler, McKay, was ancient and not in particularly good health, enforcing traditional servant quarters would be cruel. The bedchamber above theirs belonged to Luke. Or it had.

  “Thank you, but that will be unnecessary.” For years Natalia had confined her rebellions to wearing trousers and pressing ancient weapons back into service. If she wished to take a lover, why hide it? It wasn’t as if Aileen took pains to hide her unchaperoned jaunts‌—‌not even from her grandfather‌—‌to the river’s edge to meet her lover, now fiancé. “We do need to take more care with castle security. The gate was left unlocked allowing an intruder to reach the great hall. Given the recent attacks on the castle‌—‌”

  “Attacks might be overstating it a bit, wouldn’t you say?” Aileen interrupted on a sigh. “Was it really necessary to put an arrow through that man’s shoulder? If you’d let Zia go, we could all move on to new lives.” So much for Aileen warming to Zia’s presence. “The Laird of Kinlarig sold the dragon. He was within his rights and given the creature ate him…‌”

  A thought flashed to mind. How much had she shared with her lover? “You haven’t told‌—‌”

  “Michael?” Aileen crossed her arms. “Of course not. I swore to keep your not-so-mythical beast a secret, and I have. What he knows is that I’ve no interest in shouldering the role of old retainer tied to the estate by the tradition of generations. I’m to meet him soon, to discuss our wedding. You’ll have to find someone else to manage the Edinburgh townhome. The financial situation here worsens by the day, and there’s little hope of stretching supplies into the summer. I’m done.”

  “I’m sorry for that.” Natalia felt an inexplicable upwelling of sympathy. The McKays had stood by her side through a rough winter without pay. “The bed hangings in Mr. Dryden’s room are of exceptional quality, are they not?”

  “They are.”

  “Take them.” She waved her hand. “Take them all. The hangings, the sheets, the feather mattress and pillows.”

  Aileen’s eyes grew wide. “Truly?”

  There was no reaso
n for them to be at odds, and Aileen had sacrificed much attending to both her grandfather and a strange, foreign woman with a dangerous creature in tow. She deserved a chance to build a life of her own, one not so solitary and lonely. “Consider them a wedding gift. I wish you all the best.” Natalia didn’t wait for a response. She had extended an olive branch. Aileen would either take advantage of the opportunity, or she would not. Her emotions were tattered and raw. Perhaps a bout with her student in the fresh air and sunlight would lift her spirits.

  Consciousness swam to the surface, and Luke forced open his eyes. He pushed himself up onto his elbows before he could sink back into the warm, soft embrace of Natalia’s mattress. He’d not slept so deeply in ages, nor felt so…‌ normal. Despite that, the sun still hung high in the sky. He’d slept no more than a few hours. Amazing, the effects of a few milliliters of neutralized dragon’s blood.

  Telling that his Russian captor had deliberately chosen to torment Luke by skipping such a small‌—‌yet critical‌—‌step. He hadn’t the slightest regret about killing Dimitri Kravchuk, not after all the tortures the man had inflicted upon him in the name of science.

  Two years ago, deep lines of disapproval had carved themselves into the face of Luke’s supervisor when he pointed out that British-Russian tensions were unlikely to resolve anytime soon and proposed to make the journey on his own, without any reliance upon or support from the department. Nonetheless, he’d been granted six months’ leave, a small stack of untraceable bank notes, and a stern warning that the department would disavow any involvement.

  Traveling up the Kama river to Perm, climbing into the Ural Mountains, Luke had entertained dreams of greatness. Of praise and accolades for his accomplishments in the field of cryptozoology by safeguarding the future of a rare species of Mountain Dragon. While he’d found numerous caves displaying evidence of prior habitation, locating an active lair had taken far, far longer than he’d hoped. And he hadn’t been the only one looking.