by S. I. Hayes
Chapter 8 Aella
“I HATE FLYING,” I GRUMBLED as I stood up on wobbly legs, the turbulence not agreeing with me as my adopted sister, Mary scooted by me, back from the bathroom. She let out a low laugh that sounded like bells ringing as she patted me on my shaky shoulder. I hadn’t puked yet, but it was on its way. I could feel it as my stomach coiled in on itself.
“Aella, you’re a Dragon. How can you hate to fly, isn’t it, like, ingrained into your very being?” She fussed with her long curly red hair, tying it back into a ponytail as she looked over at me with her pale blue eyes. The look on her face telling me that I was, indeed, a nice shade of green. “Here.” She handed me a barf bag, which as soon as I sat I made quick use of.
“Ugh, By the Gods, I hope I never come into my wings,” I gasped as the last bits of my breakfast expelled themselves rather loudly. A woman across from us turned up her nose as I looked around, embarrassed.
“Not a good flyer,” Mary quipped as I rolled the top of the bag closed. Gods, this was awful, and we had only been in the air for like three hours and since this was a non-stop flight, it meant there were at least four more to go. I put the bag down between my feet and rubbed my tummy. Mary handed me a stick of gum and I stuffed it into my mouth, chewed it a moment, then spat it and the foul taste from my expulsion out into another bag.
“Gimmie another one. No, make it two,” I demanded, holding out my hand, then I drew it back, realizing my scales were showing.
“Fuck,” I mouthed quietly as I tried to rub them back, the black, purple and gold scales rough against my hand. Fortunately, from a distance they looked like a huge bruise, but that didn’t stop Mary from scolding me for my anxiety bristling.
“You really need to get that under control. Next thing I know you’ll be blowing smoke.”
“Doubtful, as I spit acid, not fire,” I muttered as the scales receded, my manicure going back to its purple hue.
“I forget, when did you figure that out?” She chuckled, mimicking the dance our brother Enrich had done the day I had sneezed and accidentally spit, nearly melting his shoes right to his feet.
“I’m just glad he has the reflexes of a cat.” I nudged her hard to make her stop.
“Oh, come on. I got you laughing and not thinking about puking didn’t I?”
“Yeah, yeah, but it’s still at my expense so it’s not that funny.” I rubbed my back against the seat, my shoulders itching furiously. “Aghh, damn it. Psycho itch.” I reached around behind me trying to scratch but couldn’t reach. “Mary, scratch my back, please!” I begged, turning toward her and ripping at my blouse.
She reached out, giving me a hard rub against my shoulder blades and I let out a blissful sigh leaning toward her.
“Uh, Aella?” She pulled back her hand suddenly, then clamped them hard on my back. “You better head for the loo, and quick.”
“What? Why?” I tried to turn around as a searing pain started in my shoulders. It felt like my skin was ripping open.
“You’ve got blood on your back!” She whispered urgently, pushing me up out of my seat. I tried to argue with her as she led me to the bathroom and shoved us inside.
“What the fuck, Mary?” I screeched as I tried desperately to rip off my shirt. She grabbed it too, pulling it over my head. As I flexed my back, a loud crashing was followed by my anguished cry as the already too small bathroom was flooded by the expanse of my wings.
“Shit!” Mary turned to the side, trying to avoid the razor sharp edge to them as I twisted, trying to keep them behind me. I had no control and she yelped as I nicked her arm.
“I’m sorry! I don’t know what to do!’ I pushed myself hard against the bathroom door, pinning my wings flat to the wall. Her arm was bleeding pretty badly as I looked at her and she started to cry. What had I done? My little sister was hurt and there was nothing I could do to ease her pain.
“You gotta calm down to start.” She gritted her teeth, holding her arm tightly. “Remember when Adrian came into his? He freaked out and damn near burnt down the ice cream shop in town. You gotta get ahold of it.” Mary looked around, her eyes settling above my head. “Gimmie the first aid kit there, I can fix my arm while you try and wrangle all of that.” She made a circular motion around me. I turned to see what she was looking at and almost cut her again.
“Watch those things!” She shouted as a hard knock came to the bathroom door, reverberating through my wings. The sensation was so jarring that I lurched forward, throwing up all over Mary.
“Are you fucking kidding me!”
I let out a little laugh. “Sorry.”
“Ladies, only one in the bathroom at a time,” the flight attendant called through the door.
“Ugh.” Mary took my shirt, using it to wipe the puke off her face and chest as she responded to the woman through the door. “Yeah, sorry, but my sister is really sick, we’ll be as fast as can be.” She screwed on her smile to sound kind although she was staring daggers at me.
“If it’s any consolation, I think that is the last time I’m gonna puke.” I smiled sheepishly, wiping my mouth.
“Just don’t breathe on me, okay?” She climbed up onto the sink and got the first aid kit down. Dropping the toilet seat, she opened the kit and grabbed some gauze and the antiseptic. I frowned, leaning back into the door as I watched her clean herself up.
My breathing was beginning to level off and I could feel my back contract, my wings twitching. I rolled my shoulders, I could hear them as they slid back into place, under my skin, an elastic sort of squishing that rang in my ears. I felt like I was stuffing myself into a too tight pair of jeans, my breathing thin, with lots of pressure down into my core.
Mary looked up at me from the sink as she washed the puke off of her T-shirt. “That’s better, now let me by cuz you have no shirt to wear. I gotta get into my carry on and grab you something.” She pushed by me, shoving me back into the sink with a huff, letting the door slam shut behind her.
I leaned against the edge of the sink, turning my head, trying to see my back. It was covered in blood but otherwise normal looking. The bones were where they should be, my spine was still straight as an arrow. I touched the base of my neck and with a tapping of my fingers, my lance appeared and I pulled it free. Most of us, Dragonborn I mean, carry a sword. It’s attached to our immortality. But every so often, a woman is born with the lance, it gives us the advantage of being able to wield it in our Dragon form and makes us more formidable fighters. I had just come into my wings. Mary witnessed it so there was no denying it now, but my weapon. They didn’t know that it had come to the surface. I’d been hiding it for over a year now. It was just too soon. I wasn’t ready to swear fealty to the Fey or anyone else, and at the rate I was going, I may never be.
Chapter 9 SIG
RYANE AND I HAD GOTTEN the remnants of the large bed out of the house and into the back yard. She had suggested burning it and I was inclined to agree with her. Seemed like I needed to. I was definitely going to have to be more aware of how I let her talk to me. I love the girl, but if she can simply command me, that is dangerous for everyone. She was going to need to learn how to ask, not demand. What was Keegan teaching her anyhow? She was supposed to be his submissive, but she was constantly the aggressive one. Especially now that she was a Vampire. I know it had only been hours since her turn, but there were things already that were very different.
The way she walked, the turns her body made, they were more precise, more predatory. She was thinking more rationally as well. I wondered though, if that was the blood of the awakened Hunter in her more so than the Vampire. Since Samuel’s death, she’d been more level headed, which was a good thing. I hoped it wasn’t just a phase.
“Hey, where’d you go?” Ryane’s voice broke in on my thoughts. I had forgotten she was standing out here with me as I stared at the flames and made my ponderings of the current situation.
“Sorry, got transfixed by my handy work there.”
“Wel
l, you do give good flame.” She grinned, rubbing her hands up her arms, feeling the heat. She was still in the skimpy little tank top and shorts and the breeze made her nipples pop.
I cleared my throat, looking down slightly. What do you want, I’m a man after all? “Do you intend to get dressed today? Or is this a fashion statement, cuz I gotta tell you, polka dots are not a great look.” I snapped the strap on her tank with a chuckle.
“Yeah, I keep getting side tracked. When this is done, I’ll grab a shower and put on something else.”
“Perhaps some yoga pants and a sports? We should keep up with your training. If you still want to be a Guardian, that is.” She was quiet a moment, as she stretched. “Having second thoughts?”
“Nope, just thinking of how I am gonna kick your ass.” She hip bumped me.
“Oh, I doubt it. Now that you’ve been turned, I don’t have to hold back quite as much. I can actually sort of hit you now.”
“You mean to tell me you’ve been holding out on me?” She shoved me playfully.
“Of course. I didn’t want to kill you. I’m a Hell of a lot faster and stronger than you can imagine. Of course, so are you, now. So, knocking you around should be fun.”
“You can be a real jerk, you know that, Siggy boy.”
“Yup, and please stop calling me that.”
Chapter 10 Keegan
I WOKE UP TO THE SMELL of something burning, which only proved to remind me that all of my prized possessions were, in fact, destroyed. “Rotten Dragon,” I muttered to myself as I looked out the window into the back yard. There they were, the culprits. I watched as they threw the last bits of what, I assumed, was the bed into a large bonfire. I shook my head and went back to the room for something to wear, figuring a shower might ease me up. After falling completely apart in Ryane’s arms, I let her lead me like a child out of the room and into her bed. Her pull on me wasn’t something I could wholly understand, when I was with her I seemed to give up my position of authority. She had somehow become my superior, even as I continued to push my own will upon her. As I was pondering this, I walked across the now empty center of the room and the floorboard buckled under my weight. There was a hollow in the floor. I stepped back off of it and then back on and the floor groaned under me with a thick and heavy creak. Well, isn’t my curiosity peaked? Hmm. I wondered what Samuel was hiding from everyone.
I knelt down, but the boards wouldn’t come up easily. Fuck it. I slammed my fist through the floor, snapping the wood like a knife through butter. It was obvious that Samuel hadn’t touched whatever was down there for a long time. I peered down into the hole I’d made and find, to my surprise, a large duffle bag. Ripping up the remaining floor, I slid the bag to me, coughing from the dust. The scent of lavender and jasmine hit me as I opened the heavy bag.
Inside was an arsenal. Guns and knives which looked to be tri blades. Silver, gold and iron. All deadly to the Otherkind. I was careful as I pulled the knives from the pack, the last thing I wanted was a wound that wouldn’t stop bleeding. Ryane didn’t have the supplies that are needed to treat a cold, let alone a silver wound. At the bottom of the bag were several files and books. Upon closer inspection, I found that the books were journals, hand bound and written by... Ryane’s father? Henry Ravencrest’s name was scrawled across the top page. I flipped through one carefully as the pages were worn by neglect and time. It appeared to be a chronicling of Ryane as she was growing up, notes about how cute she looked on her first snow day, followed by a picture of her and a light haired woman with Ryane’s penetrating blue eyes. They wore matching little blue snowsuits with white fur trim and white boots. I flipped the picture over and it read: Vanessa and Ryane, December 18th, 2003, my beautiful girls.
A smile worked at the corner of my mouth as I turned the pages, seeing her as she grew up. Her awkward teen years, even with braces and pigtails, she was beautiful. I put the journal down, looking at the thick file still in the bag. Something about it rubbed me the wrong way. I reached out for it and noticed the header that tagged its top. 11/22/15 Ravencrest, Vanessa.
If it was what I thought it was, then I wasn’t sure I wanted to read it, yet there I was, lifting it to me and letting the file fall open. The top was the photos of the crash. The truck was capsized and the hood torn asunder. The doors, although greatly burned, showed signs that they were covered in scratches and deep impressions. At first glance they seemed to be the result of the truck rolling down the embankment into the water, but as I looked a second time, I realized these marks were from claws. Five large claws. That was impossible.
She was attacked by Guardians, there was no denying it, but that meant that it had to be an order. Samuel wasn’t blowing smoke when he had called her death a murder. The file read like the usual cover up, truck lost control, flipped. Vanessa was pinned inside with massive injuries as the truck burned. According to the coroner report, by the time EMS responded there was nothing they could do, she was gone. Her body was recovered but there was little left to identify, the fire having destroyed most of her. As I flipped through the file, I noticed notations in Henry’s hand, question marks about the state of the body. It seemed he was working on investigating by himself. It read like a madman who didn’t believe she was actually dead, even though the DNA claimed otherwise. The notes just kept pointing to the Senate, names I knew, scribbled and crossed off, including my father and Leonas Calder.
I took the file and getting up from my space on the floor, I shoved it into the drawer, retrieving my cell phone from the top of the dresser. I scrolled through it until I found the number I needed. It rang several times before he picked up.
“Yes?”
“Father?”
He cleared his throat. “Now is not a good time boy,” he whispered. Where ever he was, he didn’t want them knowing he was talking to me.
“Maybe not, but we need to have a talk. There are things that require your more delicate touch. Please come.” With that I hung up the phone. I couldn’t bring this to Ryane, not unless I could answer the questions she would have. Like why her father was so obsessed and why my family was on his radar. The rest of the bag, I would give her. It was a connection to her parents, it would distract her so I could look deeper and perhaps find out just why her mother had been targeted by a family with Dragons.
THEY WERE DANCING AND play fighting in the yard when I finally came down, having showered, shaved and put on clean clothes. They didn’t notice me right away as I leaned into the patio door frame, the duffle slung over my good shoulder. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have sworn they were the ones in love. The free way they related to each other, joked and spoke was not the relationship I had with either of them. Having watched enough, I decided to make my presence known.
“So this is what you two get up to when I’m asleep?” I pointed to the bonfire. “You just burn what’s handy, do ya?” I teased, walking over to Ryane and kissing her before she could speak. She ran her hands up into my hair and gave me a nibble on my chin as I lifted her and swung her around once before putting her back down.
“Well, it was better than putting it on the street.” She smiled up at me, and I noticed she had the smallest of lines at the creases of those beautiful blues. Happy lines, forever etched into her. Regardless of the pain and misery she had experienced at such a young age, she had found her reasons to smile and gain those little lines. I touched her face, tracing them with my thumbs and kissed her on each eyelid, pulling a sweet little chuckle from her as she grasped my wrists.
“What is it, baby?”
“Nothing, I just realized how much I really do love you.”
“Uh, huh. Just now, by the light of this fire, did you?”
I nodded, watching Sig as he blew on the fire, reminding me of the children’s story of the big bad wolf and the three pigs. I couldn’t imagine him having had anything to do with Vanessa’s death, but it was certainly a family that had a Dragon. Perhaps, if I talked to him, he would know who still had them in the f
amily, but would talking to him lead to Ryane finding out? Was I willing to take that chance? I’d decided it was best to do as I had planned and leave it to my father. Unless I felt it needed, I would keep Sig and Ryane both free of her father’s suspicions.
“Hey Sig?” I called to him and his eyes slid over to me.
“Yeah, Boss? What do you need?”
“My carriage house rebuilt before the end of the break. Think we can manage that?”
He tilted his head left and right, doing the calculations. “Depends on how much money you want to spend and how much you plan on doing yourself verses a contractor. But I don’t see why not.”
“Good. As my First Guard, you will be responsible for getting it underway. I can have some sketches done by the end of the week. I want to start immediately afterward. Is that understood? Get it all done right and your forgiveness is assured.”
“Good to know, I was so worried,” he chided me, blowing a smoke ring.
I let out a laugh with a shake of my head. “You were that confident that I’d let it go?”
“Nope, but I was sure Ryane there would make sure you did. Something tells me that you can’t refuse that little minx.”
I chuckled as she wrapped her arms around my middle, laying her head against my back. “Indeed, I can’t resist whatever it is she’s offering, so long as it’s her world.”
Chapter 11 Aella
“AELLA? WOULD YOU QUIT fussing? You look fine,” Mary hollered as I stopped in the middle of the terminal. The rest of the flight had been uneventful, thankfully, but I couldn’t very well see my adoptive parents dressed the way I was.
“Shut up, I look like a two-bit hooker!” I stood up, pulling on the zipper of my luggage, which of course wouldn’t budge. “My tits are popping out of this tank top and my ass is hanging out of these jeans. Not to mention my midriff is showing! If Father sees my piercing he’s gonna flip,” I huffed, putting my hands on my far too exposed hips.
