Origin Exposed: Descended of Dragons, Book 2

by Jen Crane

  “Now let’s get to work. I thought today we could work on flying.”

  * * *

  “That’s all right, Stella. Try again.” Gaspare had been extremely patient with me as I attempted to refine my aerial skills.

  “Ugh!” I growled, beyond frustrated. I couldn’t get past the neophytic and mechanical winging I’d first developed. Getting airborne was no problem; neither was going forward, but compared to Gaspare’s effortless and beautiful aeronautics, my movements were crude and stunted.

  “Listen,” he said. “I know you’re used to excelling at whatever you try, and that’s a good thing. But when it comes to flying, you can’t think it into perfection. You can’t pull all-nighters until you memorize it. Flying is an instinct, a calling; it’s a release of control.”

  “I’m trying,” I whined. “I really am.”

  “I know you are,” he said. His steel-blue eyes were kind but determined. “And maybe that’s your problem—you’re over-thinking it. What you must do is just…let go. As an omni you have the natural ability to change forms mid-flight. I cannot express enough the usefulness of this property in a fight.

  “But it’s so much more than an offensive weapon. The freedom to meld one form to another is something I could never describe to you. Like learning to allow your instincts to guide your flight instead of your brain, it’s indescribable. It’s something only you can discover.”

  He was right, of course. My way certainly wasn’t working. But ‘letting go’ mid-flight hundreds of feet above the ground was…well, it was about as hard as it sounds.

  “You’ll get it,” Gaspare assured me. “You’ll get it. You just need practice.”

  But I wasn’t feeling very hopeful.

  “When do I learn to breathe fire?” I asked.

  “What?”Gaspare’s head turned to the side as he tried to determine my meaning. “Breathe fire? Ohhhh. Yes. I hadn’t thought of that. It’s not something I can help you with.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, I have no frame of reference.”

  “But as an omni, you can change into a dragon.”

  “That’s true. But a dragon’s fire is a magic that belongs solely to…her. I can take the form, it’s true, but I cannot produce a flame.”

  “No kidding,” I breathed. “Well, how will I learn? Then again, being bi-species, maybe I don’t even have the ability.”

  “Besides discovering it yourself, I’m afraid I can’t help you. It’s unfortunate you have no one to serve as a mentor—at least in this.”

  “Yes,” I said. “That’s too bad.”

  * * *

  I arrived at the Drakontos’ cabin to find it eerily quiet.

  “Bay?” I called, toeing around the property. “Uncle Eiven? Stryde?”

  I wandered outside the wooden structure and inspected the dusty fire pit and Bay’s prolific garden. Just as I reached to touch what would become a lovely purple heirloom tomato, the turbulence of something huge and fast overhead sent my body rigid with fear. A warm, wet substance trailed down my wrist, and I looked to find the fruit squashed in my hand. What a waste, I thought and dove for the fertile dirt.

  With my back to the ground, I could better see what caused such a commotion. Three dragons the size of Cessnas rolled and swooped gracefully through the blue sky. I envied the ease with which they navigated flight.

  Eiven spotted me and dove low. A helpless yelp escaped my open mouth as I crab-crawled away from the gigantic red dragon closing in on me at high speed. Closer…closer. Too close!

  Just before impacting the ground near the house, Eiven rolled and stood on two human feet. I heaved a sigh of relief and fell onto my butt in the dirt.

  Eiven snagged a pair of work pants lying near the shed and was clothed when he exited the other side of the dilapidated building. Bay followed, her landing no less breathtaking. The shed must’ve served as an informal dressing room, for Bay aimed for the shanty, too, and found a worn cotton dress.

  As Stryde hit the ground his muscular human form rippled into existence. He wasn’t in as much of a hurry to find his clothes as Eiven and Bay had been. I suspected he was showing off as he strutted toward the outbuilding. Instead of grabbing his jeans right away he stretched long tanned arms above his head and arched his chiseled back. I caught him watching from the corner of his eye to see if I watched. O-kay…

  “Stella, what a nice surprise,” Bay said. “We were just getting some exercise. Come on in the house, dear.” I found the same spot at the kitchen table I’d occupied the last time.

  “Back for the beer, eh?” Eiven winked and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes squeezed happily into each other.

  “Oh, that does sound great,” I said. “Thank you.”

  Eiven busied himself with pint glasses and Bay twisted her gray hair into a loose bun at the crown of her head. Stryde had managed to locate his clothes and strolled inside, too.

  “Actually,” I continued. “I…I have some questions. About myself. About dragons. And, well, since I don’t know any other dragons, I hoped you could help me.”

  “Of course we can,” Bay said at the same time Stryde said, “What do you want to know?”

  My thin gold bracelets clinked lightly together as I ran my fingers over them, gathering my thoughts. “I’m having trouble flying,” I finally said. All three of my relatives cocked their heads so similarly it was comical. “I mean, of course I can fly. You’ve seen me do that. But I can’t maneuver as gracefully as you all do.”

  “It takes time. You’ve just begun. Don’t worry about that,” Eiven said and passed me a pint of the amber nectar.

  “There’s more. I’ve accepted that I’m a dragon, embraced it, even. But I have no idea how to breathe fire. And, well, that’s a basic function of someone like us, I’d think. Can you help me?”

  “I’d be honored to help you,” Stryde said formally.

  Bay and Eiven eyed each other, and Bay hastily cleared her throat. “We’ll all help,” she said. “Be glad to.”

  * * *

  “This is more difficult than I thought it’d be,” Eiven said after attempting to explain the technical logistics of dragon fire. “I’ve been calling fire for so long it’s second nature.”

  “For me, too.” Bay’s lovely but fierce brown dragon was the color of a bomber jacket. “Perhaps we should try to pinpoint from where it first originates so we can better describe it to her.”

  “Mmm. A good idea,” Eiven agreed, and Stryde nodded his onyx head.

  The three dragons took turns firing columns of fire across the open sky. It was a good thing their hideout was so secluded. There was no way the pyrotechnics could be dismissed if we were in town.

  Watching them experiment was an experience in itself. Not only were they fearsome and exotically beautiful, they were having fun. Eiven playfully shot a plume at Stryde, who whipped around in fury. He snarled angrily at his dad, who threw his head back and barked a laugh. Now there’s a sight I never thought to see, I thought. A chuckling dragon. Sounds like the morning after bad Chinese.

  Eiven’s dry laugh wheezed and I realized he’d heard my thoughts. I grinned at him, something that came surprisingly easy even in my dragon form.

  “I think I’ve pinpointed it,” called Bay. “Yes. That’s definitely it.” She coughed after a singe sputtered and died in her great mouth. “I’ll meet you at that clearing. I think she’ll have more luck if she’s not concentrating on flying and finding her flame at the same time.”

  * * *

  “The important thing to understand,” Bay said once we’d gathered in the clearing, “is that you’re manipulating two separate mechanisms. One to supply the fuel, and the other to ignite it.”

  Eiven and Stryde nodded their heads in comprehension. I nodded, too, though I hoped she’d expound on her statement.

  “Ah. Okay. I assume locating the fuel line would be a good place to start?” I asked.

  “Precisely,” Bay said. “This is somet
hing you’ll only ever find in your form, dear, do you understand?” I made an attempt to shrug my dragon shoulders, but the movement was jerky and inadequate. Luckily she went on, “A dragon’s fire is magic—extraordinary, singular magic, for only a dragon possesses it.”

  This I’d heard before. “Go on,” I said.

  “When walking on two feet you’ll not have access to your fire. No other species can acquire or replicate it. ‘Tis a magic all our own,” she said with gravity. “Dragons’ magic.”

  “It’s one of the reasons we’re superior, feared,” intoned Stryde, who seemed far more at home in his dragon skin than that of a man. “But also the reason we’ve been desired as weapons.”

  “I see.” I nodded soberly.

  Bay shook herself. It was obvious that teaching me about fire without getting bogged down in the past was extremely difficult. “Deep inside your dragon lies this magic,” she said. “Untapped until you seek it out, until you draw it into your powerful chest and choose to expel it.”

  “Maybe I don’t have it,” I mused. “Maybe because I’m only half, the dragon magic didn’t pass on to me.”

  “The only way to know is to try.” Bay nodded her encouragement.

  “Okay.” Her descriptions were helpful. I searched within myself for some great magic lying in wait for my request. I ran an imaginary hand over those nuclei of power I’d already discovered—my chakra, my heart, my mind. But it wasn’t there.

  A rumble low in my stomach alerted me to hunger pangs. I ducked my head in embarrassment. I really wasn’t prepared to think about what dragons ate. No thank you. I much preferred waiting to have a sandwich back at The Root.

  When I looked up from my traitorous belly I found Eiven’s eyes alight with pride. “You’ve found it,” he said reverently.

  “Huh?”

  “It’s there,” Stryde said. “The magic. Stored deep in your bowels. Can you access it again?”

  “I’ll try,” I said and mentally dove to the depths of my scaled belly. It was full, ready, like if I just squeezed hard enough something would shoot straight up through my esophagus. I gave a mental “Whoop!” at my success, and the three other dragons cheered.

  “Excellent, dear,” Bay said. “Now to ignite it.”

  That sounded more dangerous. I looked to each of them nervously, but their faces were supportive, expectant. It was the best chance I had at learning to manipulate the form, the magic I was born with. No reason not to take it. I released the breath I’d been holding since Bay uttered the word ‘ignite.’ “Let’s do this,” I said.

  Bay had difficulty explaining the second component. After several attempts, she let Eiven take the reins.

  “Have you ever seen a flint rock?” he asked, his red scales glowing like banked embers in the setting sun.

  “I have, yes.”

  “Good. Imagine your throat is made of flint.”

  “O-kayyyy.” That was easier said than done.

  “Just go with it,” he said with a reptilian grin. I nodded. “Now, if your throat were made of flint and you squeezed it forcefully together what would happen?”

  “Ah, well, I guess it might produce a spark?”

  “Yes!” Stryde yelped enthusiastically, earning him a startled look from all of us. He’d been eerily quiet during the teaching process. He scrutinized us—well, me—intently as I tried to grasp the concepts.

  “Ah, good,” Eiven continued. “So, if you could release some of the magical fuel from your belly, and then quickly squeeze your flinted throat together, what then?”

  “Fire,” I said with force. “I could shoot flames.”

  “You could,” he nodded his great head. “You can.”

  And, dammit, I believed I could! I had to try.

  “All right,” I said. “Back up. I’ve no idea how this will turn out.”

  The three dragons folded in behind me, and the strength, the energy of their support was palpable. Facing the widest part of the clearing, my scaled chest expanded on a soul-deep breath. I imagined unscrewing the gas cap of the fuel line in my stomach and releasing its powerful fumes.

  Nothing happened.

  The fullness, the potential remained. But nothing came out.

  “S’all right, dear,” Bay said. “Try again.”

  I did. And when I did, a fissure formed in the lining of my fuel tank. The tiniest amount of gaseous magic escaped my innards and found its way up the back of my throat. It tasted of magic; of fire itself.

  The discovery pleased me so much that the fuel evaporated before it occurred to me to strike the flint of my esophagus. I let out an exasperated growl that, in my dragon form, expelled as a roar that reverberated through the clearing and shook the saplings around us.

  “Oops.”

  “You’ll get it,” Eiven coaxed. “I know you’ll get it. This is a great start.”

  After several more attempts I succeeded in learning to release the gaseous fuel, but was never able to make a spark.

  Bay, Eiven and Stryde assured me my fire would come in time, and invited me back to practice.

  “We’ve all the time in the world,” Eiven said. “We’ll help you find it.”

  They asked me to stay for dinner, but the thought of food turned my stomach. The many explorations into my stomach, metaphysical or not, left me nauseous.

  Chapter 26

  I returned to my room at Sabre, but without Timbra next door everything was…wrong. I couldn’t stand the quiet. I left for the bustle of the bar.

  Ewan, Raynor, Layla, and Boone sat at our usual table. The first three were making plans for the weekend but Boone sat silent, introspective. His big body slumped in the club chair and he looked more miserable than I felt.

  He didn’t look up when I took a seat. His big hand dwarfed my own when I gave it an encouraging squeeze. He looked up then, his blue eyes rimmed with red, and so very pained. He released a lopsided smile, like only half of him could even produce the effort to try.

  Mari buzzed up to our table for my order and gave Layla a quick wink. Layla smiled back so brightly I hoped it might light up Boone a bit. Mari flitted back toward the bar, breezy as ever, and gave Knox the order. I waved when he looked in my direction. He nodded and grinned, and was caught by one of the barstools’ occupants. She whipped around in her seat to see who’d received it. My biggest fan. Dean Miles. I waved at her, too. Maybe overly-friendly. Maybe a bit spitefully. Screw her, though, I thought. I am so over this day.

  After a bit of small talk I could contain my curiosity no longer and leaned toward Layla. “I came by your room last week to see if you wanted to snag dinner.”

  “Oh?” she said and quirked a pierced brow. “Was I not there? I hate I missed it.”

  “You were there all right. But not alone, so I left.”

  She pulled her lips toward her ears in an “eek” gesture before grinning.

  “It wasn’t Mari,” I said. “She was working here.”

  Layla’s grin fell and she shrugged. She didn’t say anything.

  “It’s obvious she’s crazy about you. And I know you like her, too.”

  “I do,” she said emphatically.

  “O-kay,” I said, issuing myself a firm reminder to stay out of her business.

  Musicians.

  * * *

  Friday’s classes crept by. Not a single thing the professors said filtered to my brain. My thoughts were absorbed by my leggy, doe-eyed friend. The idea of sitting with someone else seemed traitorous, so I sat alone in the back row. My classmates began to file past me; class was over.

  “Hey, Stell,” Ewan called as I trudged across the leafy campus.

  A large maple tree provided some much-needed shade. “Hi.” I tried to be upbeat.

  “You doin’ okay?” he asked, and ran confident fingers from my elbow down to my hand before clasping it to his.

  My sad smile was inescapable. “Not really. Just sucks. I miss my friend. This place isn’t the same without her.”

 
“I know,” he nodded and a brown curl fell onto his smooth forehead. “Boone’s a wreck. Hell, I miss her, too. I had an idea. I thought we could all get out of town tonight and invite Timbra. We could have a party in her honor.”

  I stood a little straighter; perked a tiny bit. “What are you thinking?”

  “Layla’s offered to bring her band for a song or two at the cabin. My sister agreed. There’s a perfect spot on the back patio. We can invite a few people and I’ll man the grill.”

  It was lucky Ewan was both strong and agile enough to catch me because I jumped at him. He grunted at my tight squeeze, but breathed a masculine sigh at the kiss I placed on the soft skin above his scruffy beard.

  I couldn’t contain a giggle as I slid to my feet, but left my arms around him. “Thank you,” I said and put the full force of my emotions behind a kiss. He lifted me tightly against him and walked me back to the maple tree, pinning me against it.

  “You’re welcome,” he whispered against my ear before playfully nipping it.

  Shivers shot from my earlobe to my pinky toe, and I gently bucked toward him. He flashed that wolfish smile and closed in on me.

  I loved kissing Ewan Bristol. It was never rushed; never forced. I luxuriated in his soft lips, the slow and sensual rubs of his tongue, the heat of his body against mine.

  We were making out in the middle of The Root campus, of this I was aware. But I just couldn’t find a reason to care.

  Fine, I thought, let all those bitches see who Ewan Bristol belongs to. Mine. He’s mine.

  Ewan’s sharp intake of breath and flare of passion as he pushed himself harder against me clued me in to the fact he’d heard my thoughts.

  Oh hell—I didn’t mean for you to—oh hell.

  He never replied. Well, not with words. He held me so tightly I thought I’d lose consciousness. He kissed my eyes, my cheeks, the tip of my nose. He was supremely happy, and I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel the same way.