by Riley Storm
“Fine,” Lilly said, her voice cross. “But you’ll see. You’ll see that you were wrong, and I was right.”
She turned to go as her father arched an eyebrow at her.
“Just like before?” he asked softly.
Turning her back on her family, Lilly marched out of the room before she said something she would regret for the rest of her life.
Chapter Three
Trent
Two weeks later.
“Why did they have to choose a place right in the center of town?” he muttered as the trio slithered their way across gravel-covered rooftops, working steadily toward their target. “Why couldn’t they have chosen a warehouse or even an abandoned building outside of town?”
“Quiet,” someone else hissed.
Trent rolled his eyes.
“We’re a full block away. A human couldn’t hear me from more than twenty paces at this volume. You be quiet,” he said in low tones that would barely carry.
For a human, it would be impossible to hear him and not be seen. For a dragon, however, it was merely a slight strain. In the quiet of the night, there was not much in the way of background noise. An occasional car would pass by on the streets below, but otherwise the town had gone silent, as if it knew that something was going to happen.
Stop it. It’s three-thirty in the morning. Nothing is open. Nobody is awake. That’s why it’s so quiet. It is not an omen.
The trio, one-half of the dragon assault team, came to a halt at their prearranged location. Trent scanned the rooftop of the target building, first with his regular vision, and then he let his eyes dip into the infrared spectrum.
“Clear,” he said just loud enough for the others to hear, then settled down against the raised edge of the roof, out of sight of anyone who might appear in the meantime and waited.
“How many more of these are we going to do?” someone asked from his left.
Trent glanced over at Rann, opening his mouth to reply. Before he could, the third member of their group spoke for him.
“As many times as we have to, to ensure that the Agency’s weaponry doesn’t get into the wrong hands.”
Trent rolled his eyes at Rann, both of them ignoring Pietro’s dialogue. They both knew that. The question was more than the literal meaning.
“I don’t know,” Trent answered. “But am I the only one finding it highly suspicious how this keeps happening? It’s been nearly three weeks since the Agency collapsed. How is their anti-dragon tech still filtering its way into the hands of regular thugs?”
Rann shrugged. He didn’t know the answer any better than Trent did. If any of the other dragons of the clans that surrounded Five Peaks knew, they weren’t telling lowly strike team members like Rann or Trent.
The Agency itself was a rogue branch of government that had been corrupted away from its original purpose over the past year by a fanatic dragon. Using human technology and dragon DNA, they had created weapons that could pierce dragon scales where no human bullet had been able to before and a serum that gave normal humans increased abilities.
The Agency had collapsed following the dragons going public with their existence to the world. Since then, most of the ‘Enhanced’ had been hunted down and eliminated, yet the weapons that had been brought to Five Peaks to fight the dragons continued to appear.
“When the Agency collapsed,” Rann muttered, peeking over the edge of the lip to ensure they didn’t miss the signal, “I wonder if anyone expected it would go down like this.”
Trent shrugged. “I doubt it. That one dragon from Clan Valen took out most of their leadership, including the director, in one go. Then the Agency just sort of crumbled.”
Hundreds of Agency personnel had been stationed in Five Peaks. A massive base had been set up at the community center, with a perimeter being erected around the entire town, in an attempt to hunt down the dragons. Numerous supply caches throughout the city had simply been lost upon the collapse.
The dragons were still cleaning up the mess. It was why missions like the one Trent was on tonight had become common. All it took was for several crates to show up, and suddenly the dragons were vulnerable. Considering the amount of hate that was coming their way since their reveal—even if it was outweighed by the support—being vulnerable was something they simply couldn’t tolerate.
Trent stiffened as he felt a vibration in the roof. Peering up over the lip, he still saw nothing.
“You feel that?” he asked Rann, but the other Atrox clan shifter was also looking out at their target building.
“It felt like an impact,” Rann said quietly. “But I don’t see a sign.”
The other half of their team was supposed to signal them just before door breach, and then Trent, Rann, and Pietro would storm in through the roof, taking out the power to the building as they went.
Glass shattered, and a moment later there was the sound of a pistol barking.
“That’s it,” Trent said. “We’re going.”
Rann was on his feet. Beside them, Pietro was still crouched. “We wait,” he said tautly.
Trent glared at him. Pietro had been put in charge of their trio, but personally, Trent thought the team leader Kladd had made a mistake. Pietro was too reserved. Lacking initiative.
“Our fellows are under attack,” he ground out. “We need to go help them.”
“Wait for the signal,” Pietro snarled as another gunshot cracked out into the night.
Trent stared at Pietro. He couldn’t see it. Couldn’t see the danger to their clan mates. So desperate to follow orders, to prove himself, Pietro was endangering them all.
Trent’s left hand curled into a ball. He’d been here before, blinded by his own desire to prove himself, unwilling to speak out because of it. His gutlessness had cost Atrox.
Not again, he thought to himself.
“Not again.”
Pietro turned to face him. “Stand down,” he growled.
“Screw you,” Trent spat at the fire dragon and vaulted the five feet between buildings, coming down on the roof of their target building.
Gravel crunched next to him as Rann joined him. Trent cast him a quick glance as they headed for the door.
“Don’t look at me like that. They’re in trouble in there,” Rann said. “Besides, you started it.”
Trent snorted. It wasn’t like he could screw up any worse than before even if he was making the wrong call, which he was positive he wasn’t.
The door exploded inward under his shoulder, and he stabbed a hand out toward the nearest light. Energy surged through him, and blue-white lightning blew out the bulb and then took out the power to the entire building as it traveled through the circuits.
From inside there were shouts of surprise and alarm, along with calls to turn on the backup lights.
Good luck with that.
Trent and Rann were already moving. The three-story building was an old shop that faced onto the main street. The ground floor was a convenience store, but the upper two floors had been closed off until the group of thugs moved in.
The gunfire was coming from the second floor, but Trent ignored it, instead creeping toward the door to the third floor instead. He needed to neutralize anyone up here first. Rann went down the stairs, heading to support their comrades.
Stairs creaked behind Trent. He spun, lightning gathering in his palm, but he was met by the soft yellow-orange glow of fire that emanated from around Pietro’s left palm.
“Not gonna be left behind like a coward,” Pietro said. “Now breach.”
Trent hauled back a foot and kicked the door in, closing his eyes. A burst of light shot past his eyelids, heat warming his face beyond a comfortable level for a split second. Then, there was an explosion of very bright light and cries of alarm.
More guns went off, but they were wild, unaimed. The light had blinded most of the thugs within.
Trent was first in, and he darted at the nearest thug, a slash of his hand snapping the man’s wrist.
Before the gun could even fall, Trent had grabbed it and crushed the barrel with a mighty squeeze of his hand, the forearm muscles popping out at the strain.
He couldn’t bend it flat, of course, but it was deformed enough it would never fire again. Then he turned and spun, using the momentum to hurl the weapon at the farthest person in the room, even as he snapped the arm of his next target. Adding insult to injury, Trent used that arm to whip the man around, dislocating his shoulder and hurling him across the room to collide with a fourth man. That thug went flying back, his head rebounding hard from the wall, and he slid to the floor with a groan.
Trent winced as he saw a dark streak run down the wall as well. He doubted he’d killed the man, but he might have given him some severe head trauma.
“Crap,” he muttered.
A gun went off, and Trent’s shoulder erupted in pain as he was flung backward by the impact, stumbling.
“Ow,” he snarled as someone appeared from a doorway, gun leveled.
The man fired again but missed.
The blast of lightning that shot from Trent’s palm did not, and the human was hurled back, clipping his feet on a couch and disappearing behind it in a heap. A low groan reached Trent’s ears, and then everything was silent.
“Good,” he muttered, heading for the door and the stairs down while Pietro handled cleanup.
Rann appeared on the second landing. “All clear. What happened to you?”
Trent winced at the pain in his shoulder. It wasn’t permanent and would heal as soon as he got the bullet out, but for now the dragon-scale-tipped metal was lodged in his shoulder making life unpleasant.
“One of them got lucky,” he muttered unhappily. “How is it here?”
“Someone saw them out the front window. Sheer luck. Couple of injuries like you, but we’re done here.”
“Good, I want to get out of here,” Trent muttered, heading down the stairs to the first floor. He stepped through the frame of the door, his boots crushing glass beneath him.
Another dragon was already out front. It was the team leader, Kladd. Trent gave him a nod and then stepped off to the side to let Kladd speak on the phone in relative privacy. They needed to clean up and get going. The gunshots would have alerted someone, and the dragons didn’t want to be there when the sheriff’s department arrived, even if a dragon’s mate was one of the senior sheriffs.
As he waited for the rest of the team, Trent’s gaze came to rest on the store next door to their target. He eyed all the dragon trinkets in the window, a feeling of disgust settling over him.
“The Dragon’s Treasure,” he said, repeating the store’s name out loud. “Really? Really? Is that all we are now to you? A bunch of attractions to make money off of? Nothing more?”
“Knock it off, Trent,” Kladd snapped from behind him. “We’ve got to get going.”
“Have you seen this stuff?” Trent said, pointing at the store, a big ‘coming soon!’ sign plastered in the front window. “It’s a load of bullsh—”
“I said knock it off. Calm down. Go for a walk, I don’t care,” Kladd snarled. “I’ve got other shit to deal with besides your own self-hatred.”
Trent sputtered. It wasn’t self-hatred. This was pure exploitation. Turning his people, the proud dragon shifters, into nothing but a curiosity. It was an insult.
“Screw this,” he muttered and extended his hand.
“Trent!” Kladd snapped, but it was too late.
Power surged through Trent into the metal frame of the doorway. A window shattered. The power continued inside, finding electrical outlets. Light bulbs came on, burnt bright, and then exploded as he blew out the entire electrical array of the building.
“That’ll teach them,” he said, satisfied.
Trent vaguely recalled an impact on his head, but when he opened his eyes next, he was lying on his back staring up at Kladd’s angry face.
“You think you’re some sort of tough guy, do you?” he snarled, grabbing Trent by the collar and shaking him, aggravating his shoulder injury. “Well, guess what? You’re going to fix this. All of it. You’re going to spend a week helping the owner of this shop fix it up and do whatever else they need. Is that understood?”
Still dazed by the blow, Trent wasn’t able to fight back. Not that he wanted to take Kladd on anyway. The man was a nightmare in a fight. So instead, Trent just nodded.
“Yeah, fine,” he grumbled.
“You know what?” Kladd snapped, obviously not happy with the reply. “You’re also off the team. Back to normal Gate duty for you. Which you will do on top of helping the shop owner.”
Trent’s eyes filled with rage as he glared at his team leader—former team leader, he corrected himself—but he didn’t lash out.
“That will leave me with no free time,” he growled.
“Oh, too bad, so sad for you,” Kladd said, sarcasm dripping from his words. “Ask me if I care? Because I don’t. Maybe you shouldn’t have been such a callous asshole then. Remember, we’re here to protect the humans. We also happen to be the subject of immense speculation and judgment from the world now that they know about us. Don’t give them a reason to hate us, Trent, you idiot.”
Trent glared, but the look had no power. He’d screwed up bad, and he knew it.
Now I have to help this asshole shop owner exploit our species. Yay.
Chapter Four
Lilly
“Your store open yet? Anyone actually buying that stuff?” her father asked as Lilly headed for the door.
She stiffened. There was no vitriol in his tone, which made it all the harder for her to keep her composure. It was simply a question, but the way he worded it was enough to want to make her snap.
“The graffiti is gone,” she said, tugging on her shoes. “I got the last of it cleaned up yesterday. I don’t know who the Church of the Anti-Wyrm are, but they sure do seem to have a hatred for anyone supporting the dragons. But it hasn’t slowed down my plans to open.”
“Still think it’s a bad idea,” her mother said, coming down the stairs.
“You should go to school. Find a career, get a good job,” her father said.
“Yes, like your father.”
Lilly glared at both of them but didn’t speak.
“People vandalizing it before you’re even open is a bad sign.”
Lilly just tuned her father out. Or tried to. The roaring in her ears was making it hard to focus.
“You would have been better off getting a degree. You could have two by now,” her mom pointed out. “With all the money you’ve spent on these failed ventures of yours.”
“I haven’t failed!” Lilly snapped, unable to contain herself.
Not this time at least.
“You both need to learn the world is different.” Lilly continued “More and more people are not going to college anymore because it’s overpriced and undervalued. The economy is different. It’s changing. The internet allows for small businesses to exist, because people are continually searching for products the big stores don’t carry, since they all carry the same thing. I’m adapting with it. You should support that.”
Lilly was feeling particularly alone without the support of her parents, but what was she going to do? Disown them? She couldn’t do that. They had raised her. Taken her in when she had nowhere else to go, even if they constantly harped on her about her decisions. She had nobody else.
Storming out of the house before they could reply, she slammed the door behind her and headed down the street, her shoes clipping on the sidewalk with each furious step. Summer was basically upon them, and the warm weather and sunshine was already improving her mood. She was shedding anger with every stride, leaving it behind.
Taking one deep breath she exhaled, feeling her blood pressure drop. This was going to work. It was going to succeed. Then she could move out and only see her parents when she wanted to. That would be blissful.
Her parents didn’t live far—in a town the size of Five Peaks, nothin
g was far—from the main street where her shop was located, and the ten minute walk seemed to fly by. She slowed however as she approached the front of her shop.
“What the heck?” she moaned, seeing the yellow caution tape out front.
Glass littered the sidewalk. Most of it was in front of the convenience store next to her, but enough of it was on her side as well that Lilly knew something bad had happened. She hurried forward, terrified at what she would find.
“Oh, no,” she said, seeing the front of her store for the first time.
The window closest to the convenience store was gone. Just gone. Glass was littered inside and out. Ducking under the caution tape, Lilly unlocked the front door.
No beeping of the alarm sounded. Just silence. No thirty-second countdown before it started going wild and alerting the police.
She took two steps before something crunched under her foot. Glancing down, Lilly saw it was glass. But not the thick stuff of the front window. It was—she looked up abruptly and saw that the light was gone, only the ends of the long florescent bulb still in the holder. Looking around, she saw that all across her shop the bulbs were gone, shattered into pieces that had fallen everywhere.
“What the hell happened?” she whispered.
There were footsteps behind her, but they paused at the opening.
Lilly turned to see a very large man outlined in the doorway of her shop. Not only was he large, but he looked very unhappy. A pit of fear knotted in her belly.
“Can I help you?” she asked uneasily.
The man grimaced.
Lilly frowned. There was something familiar about him…
“I’m, um, here to help you,” he said.
Lilly tilted her head, peering at him. Even his voice sounded familiar. Had she met him before? The darkened interior of her shop was making it hard to pick out his features in the dark but—
“Is something wrong?” he rumbled, his voice deep and strong, carrying to her easily with an authority that seemed almost natural and unnoticed by him.
“There’s something familiar about you,” she said quietly. “Have we met before? What’s your name?”
