by Jade Alters
“Of course,” I tell her. “I’ll meet you outside Supernatural-Human Dynamics again next week.”
“And this time, I’ll remember,” Cece smiles. “I’ll be looking forward to it.” I nod and maintain a smile until she turns her back to go with Bart. Only then do I let my face sink to reflect the feelings behind it.
Family Ties
Cece,
The Broken Academy, Dragonlord Thise’s Office
When Bart leads me through the doors to Thise’s lava-veined cave, she stands between us and the edge of her desk. It sends an immediate chill down the back of my shirt. It’s a rare day when the Dragonlord lets students see that she actually has legs under that desk, right here in her office. I creep in, ready for the earth-shaking nature of whatever my assignment is. Whatever our assignment is, I remember, when Bart pulls up beside me. He’s at least had the respect to be silent on our long walk here. That gave me plenty of time to think over what the hell just happened.
I can’t believe it. Bryant, taking the lead, taking control. It was almost like he wanted something, when he pressed me up against the shed. I expected to have to walk him through so much more. I guess there really is a human half in there somewhere. Today I caught the slightest glimpse of it. Next week, I plan for a full frontal. That is, if intrusive Vampires can keep their noses out of my damned business.
“Cece,” Thise says when I cross the threshold of two feet from her. Had she not alerted me, I might have kept walking straight into her desk. I stand at attention for my briefing, and slide a step back, next to Bart. “Has Bart informed you of the mission I have for you?”
“I didn’t,” Bart jumps in. I’m about ready to let him have it for speaking for me, when he adds, “Circumstances didn’t allow the time.” I deflate to my usual stance. It’s a better explanation than anything swimming around in my confused brain.
“Very well… Cece. I’m sure you’ve been curious about Bart’s involvement with the ASTF, when I specifically set a parameter for third-years or higher. It’s because he happens to have a connection we need to explore,” Thise begins. I glance from her to the frustratingly modest look on Bart’s face. He folds his hands over his waist like a priest awaiting anointment.
“The Kyrie?” I ask. It’s the only connection we need to explore, right now. Thise nods.
“I was sent here by Lucidous himself. He believes I’m a double agent for him,” Bart informs me. I cock an eyebrow at him.
“And?” I challenge. I want him to know upfront, if this connection now involves me, just how much he has to prove. Just how little I trust him.
“Bartho- er- Bart and I have an excellent rapport,” Dragonlord Thise cuts in. “We have worked together in the past. If you don’t trust him, trust that I do.” I grit my teeth behind tightly sealed lips. My head grates on the hinge of my neck to turn for the Dragonlord. I force a nod to assure her of what I don’t remotely feel. Just when I think it’s the least likely thing to happen, concerns for my distrust of Bart sweep to the darkest corners of my mind. It’s occupied to the brim by new thoughts entirely when Thise says, “The leader of the Kyrie has requested to see you, specifically.”
“Me?” I echo.
“Yes. He pulled me aside to ask if I knew you. Dorian’s an incredibly perceptive man. I couldn’t lie to him,” Bart’s voice snaps my head sideways.
“I didn’t even know the Kyrie had a leader. I thought it was a conglomerate, like the Council,” I comment, to delay facing this new piece of information. Why the hell would he ask Bart about me?
“It is, for the most part,” Bart tells me. The facts that both the Dragonlord lets him tell me, and that he seems to know so much throw even more confusion into the pot. I don’t know if I should trust him more or less. “But the idea of an anti-Academy alliance was Dorian’s idea. He recruited the Dalshaks, the Vampires and the Fey to join him as a representative to the Dragon’s stake in finding the Realms of power and self-governing. Though they’re all supposed to be equal…everyone answers to Dorian.”
“Is that why he wants to see me? Because I’m a Dragon?” I ask. Then a frantic gasp fires air down my throat. I blurt out my realization before I can stop myself. “Is that why the Dalshaks tried to have me kill Darius and join them in my first year? For Dorian?”
“We suspect so,” Thise tells me. “But it’s not because you’re a Dragon.”
“It’s because you’re his daughter.” Bart’s voice falls into my soul like a heavy rock into deep water. Daughter. The word sinks just like that, deeper, darker, into the pit. No one’s called me daughter in years. No one’s made me feel like one besides the old Dragon sitting on the side of her desk.
“Bu-bu-bullshit,” I sputter. I clear my throat to flush the stuffiness that surprises me. Suddenly, I can’t swallow enough. It’s like my airways are made of swollen sponges.
“Why would Thise call you here for this if it was bullshit?” Bart asks. The Dragonlord raises a hand to warn him about his loose tongue. Thank God. I might have turned it to flapping, charred jerky.
“Whether or not it’s true…you would need to confirm,” Thise says. “But he asked for you. By name. He wants to meet you.”
“Dorian…leader of the Kyrie?” I mock them with a grandiose tone, so they can hear how it sounds to me. “Asked for me… Cecelia Ford… His daughter, just like that?” Bart looks to Thise with caution, then takes a dainty step towards me.
“Yes,” he tells me. I find nothing on his face but genuine concern. I don’t quite want to hit him this time, but I hardly want the heart-to-heart he has written on his face. “Cece, I know this is a lot…but I’m hitting nothing but dead ends with Lucidous. Dorian might be our way to-”
“I need time to think about it,” I say, directly to Thise. Her brow curves up in concern, even while she says:
“Of course, Cece. If he wants to see you so badly, I’m sure he’ll wait.”
“Cece-”
Bart tries to stop me, but I’m already at the door. All it takes is one hard swing with my draconic strength seeping through, and even Thise’s heavy door strikes the stony wall on the backswing. I trudge out into the nexus between Councilmember offices. Thise’s door slams behind me.
“Cece,” Bart’s voice pops up beside me again. Damn he’s fast. He must have slipped out on my heels without making a sound. I walk on, heedless to his words. “Please just listen to me. It doesn’t matter if he’s your father or not. There’s more at stake here than-”
“Than my life?” I turn to bite. “You do realize you’re asking me to risk my life, right? I mean, if he’s not my father then maybe they just want to use me like a battery? Like they did to Helena Bartos? Or worse. If he is my father…” I drift off. My feet plant firm. I can’t operate my lips and my legs at the same time. Not with this suddenly dropped on my plate. I turn to give Bart a look that could literally ignite dry grass. “I don’t have a father.”
“Cece…” Bart murmurs. His hand drifts out toward me. I stare down at it like the alien thing it is. I don’t know him, and I’ve never known a particularly empathetic Vampire. I back away from him even while his eyes plead at me. “If you could hear him talk about you…you might not think that.” My eyes widen to fill with Bart’s reaching image. I can’t bear to say another word to him. I can’t stand to hear another from his lips.
I trudge off down the stairs to the Academy. I come out in the corner of the D-Wing hallway and shoot off straight for my room. I intend to talk to no one on the way. I intend to look at nothing. I just march ahead. The same, one-line chorus resounds through my mind time after time. How could he say that to me?
I’m his daughter… To be his child, biologically, I suppose is possible. But his daughter? Never. I had two parents already and, for all intents and purposes, they’re gone. Or rather, I’m the one who’s gone. I passed on from their world into another; the two of which have no reconciliation. No rainbow bridge. I’ll probably never see or hear from them again. I can onl
y remember them fondly. It’s taken me a while, but I understand that it’s probably better that way. I can’t hurt them.
Then this message comes, on the lips of a Vampire I hardly know. He tells me I do have a father. What’s more, the man wants to meet me. The man who surrendered me to the adoption agency. The man who abandoned me, knowing full well what I was and which world I belonged in. Why the fuck would I want to meet him?
“Whoa there!” I almost topple when my downturned head crashes into the chest of a tall young man. I look up to apologize, though my heart is hardly in it until I realize I know him. “You’re on a mission,” says Serge.
“Don’t say that.” I shake my head. My whole body is still tense from head to toe. I can’t seem to shake the tension out, no matter how hard I stomp on the Academy walkways. I try to swerve around Serge, but he slides to one side to block my path.
“Need to blow off some steam?” he asks. I put my hands on his chest to guide him to the edge of the hallway, where he can’t stop me.
“Don’t tempt me,” I warn him. But Serge looks down at me with a peculiar curiosity. His golden-brown eyes glimmer with a daring charm.
“What? You think Lee is the only one that can handle you?” Serge asks.
“Serge, please… I really…just…need…” but, after about five attempts to dodge past him, he’s made it clear just how difficult that will be. I finally relax my hands against him, instead of trying to push past.
“Come on. One little bout. Either I’ll prove you wrong, or you’ll beat my ass. See? Either way, steam: blown off,” Serge shrugs. I let my forehead fall down to thump against his bony collar.
“Fine…” I sigh. “Where?”
Serge,
Academy Training Grounds, Sierra Nevadas
Cece presses into me for one last, long kiss, before we peel apart. Our arms slide past one another, then our fingers. We both take about ten long steps back from one another across the cracked, arid clay of the mountaintops. A screen of fluid illusion flickers across the sky overhead to assure us no measure needs barring. Here, we’re free to let everything out. By the look on Cece’s face, I’m not sure I know exactly what I’ve gotten myself into.
But I can’t let Lee have all the fun. Sparring is structured time with Cece that I lose to him every week, whereas our date schedule is far more sporadic. If I can prove my tricks are just as viable a weapon as his dragonsfire… But it’s not just for Cece. Even after a year of almost complete silence, the Kyrie is still a threat. I grew up under the thumb of a decent portion of them. When I think of actually fighting my parents, without the element of surprise Emery had a year ago…I know I need to be ready. Sharper than sharp. I steady my hands for the best tricks at my disposal.
Cece takes the initiative with a lunge for the skies. Two wings of canvas-skin spread open around her. The flap of them rustles vegetation across the battleground. I don’t sit idle in awe of her full transformation, though. I sling my wrist out in front of me. With a light rub of my fingers, light particles in the air spin into a translucent cord. I lasso it around Cece’s now scaly ankle. I yank down on it with both arms, which only serves to drag my ankles across the clay. I skid out like an out-of-control water skier.
Cece folds a wing down to spin in place. To face down at me, the annoying ankle-weight dragging her down. Her half human, half scaly snout snaps open to unleash a scream of flame. It’s all I can do to get a single hand up between us, even at the cause of flying faster on Cece’s wake. I snap a portal into being just up above my head. Cece’s fiery breath swirls inside of it. The heat of her attack never makes it close enough for me to feel. Instead, Cece is the one to suffer the impact. My second portal empties her cone of flame out onto her from above, full-force.
It batters the back of her wings like a million tiny fists. It’s enough to slow her ascent, and even reverse it. It’s the best chance I’ll get. I let my portal go to grasp my illusory rope with both hands again. I leap towards Cece and size the lasso as high up as I can. I pull her down, then set her on a collision course for the Sierra Nevadas. She’s become a scaly comet, inbound for the mountaintops.
Cece’s fully-transformed snout spits a rapid-fire of smoldering bullets. I kick my legs around to evade two of them, but the third comes straight for my chest. I swirl my hands to dissolve my illusory rope. I drop down below Cece’s fireball, the binding between us shattered. Still, she plunges towards the ground.
Her wings open wide to pulse against the impending crash zone. Her amethyst body hangs in flux as the force equalizes. Slowly, she puts a stop to her descent. Her talons hover an inch from the ground. By the time she fends off gravity and inertia, I’m already gone. My illusory javelin is all she sees, at the last second, flying up at her face. Cece tilts right hard enough to let it fling past her.
Then I deploy from the portal I opened above her. My thighs lock behind the back of her muscular, scaly neck. Cece bucks immediately with all the fury of a truly wild beast. She throttles me up and down. She swings her neck around to throw me off. I keep a firm hold until she starts batting her wings behind her back. They hit me one after the other, just off enough in pace to disorient me. But I notice she’s not watching where she flies in the process.
Just before Cece breaks free, I slap another lasso around her throat and open a portal behind us. For a split second, everything around us flickers with the blue light of the between-dimension of sheer light inside my illusory gateway. Then we come out the other side, on the ground again. Cece flails while I tumble across the earth beside her. But I never loosen my grasp on my lasso. Not this time. This time, I hold tight from the second I scrape to a stop, and pull Cece fully to the ground.
She bounces and skids twice on her violet scales, then on her skin. Her transformation reverses before my eyes as Cece rolls across the clay toward me. Over a few seconds I discern that the match is done. Her body flaps around loosely, right up until she rolls to a stop beside me. I reach out a softer hand than any that has business on the battlefield. I lay it on her shoulder. Cece’s back slumps flat beside me. and she smiles at the sky.
“Hm... “ is all she can bring herself to say.
“What’s that?” I pant. “Serge, I underestimated you? Serge, I should spar with you more often?”
“Hm, hm, hm,” Cece laughs, “Just you wait… Just…a little power nap…then I’ll get ya’.”
“Oh yeah?” I counter. My only answer is a deep snort into a long snore. Her head thumps back onto my chest. Mine flops back in the grass.
I’m not sure how long we lay there like that. Silent but for the sounds of our exhausted breathing. Whatever it was tying Cece in stressful knots, she’s unwound again now. A new confidence puts my heart a little at ease. Maybe Lee isn’t the only one she’ll go to, to spar. That, along with the dry, passing mountain breeze, is enough to lull me right to sleep.
Or so I think. I must be asleep. For a dream though, this is awfully vivid. I rise up from the grass alongside Cece. She clasps my hand in hers. I’m like the basket to her hot air balloon. She floats higher, faster, towing me behind her. We drift up towards the sky, swaying like feathers. I feel about that light, too. Cece looks down to smile at me. I feel the world warm by about ten comfortable degrees. Only then do I realize just how cold everything was before. And how blue. Everything seems to be tinged with the same color as Cece’s shimmering crystal eyes.
She carries me up, up, towards the sky. This triggers the human instinct that should probably be the last thing I do. I look down. A dense cannonball of fear plunks down into the whimsical wonder that fills my gut. About a hundred feet below us, still flat in the grass, are our bodies. What’s more, I have no legs. In their place is a twisting blue wisp of smoke. We’re asleep, yet awake in a different sense. Or so this odd dream leads me to believe. I try to tug down on Cece’s arm, to call her attention to our napping frames in the dry Sierra grass, but she doesn’t seem to feel it. She only guides me out into the clouds, over the nea
rby forest-filled valleys. It seems I’m along for whatever ride Cece wants to take me on. I give in and let her carry me along.
The countryside sweeps by beneath us as we soar at a falcon’s pace. We circle the Sierra Nevadas high, then low. Cece brings us down toward the canopy. Her eyes flash with confidence that inspires the exact inverse in me. We’re getting too close. The branches swing up at us with a gust of wind. I try to call to Cece, but my throat is drier than the cracked clay beneath us. A branch comes up straight for my face.
Cece,
Academy Training Ground, The Sierra Nevadas
Serge’s shoulder pops my head up in the air when he lurches awake. I sit up instantly, nails dug in the grass for a fight. We’re under assault, however, from nothing more than a strong mountain wind. I turn around to find his wild eyes zipping over the peaks in every direction.
“What?” I ask him. “What happened?” Serge is about as relaxed as I am. He sits up as straight as he can to peer over the edge of a nearby cliff. I trace his eyes there. There’s nothing but treetops and the babble of a stream hidden somewhere beneath.
“Nothing… Just a bad dream I guess,” Serge says. He gives the back of his head a rough scratch, as if to dislodge something stuck there. His shoulders stay rigid, like he might bolt off at the first fart of a squirrel.
“Must have been a doozy,” I yawn. I lean back against him. I bet on him having to support me to loosen him up. Serge stays alert but lets his shoulders down just a little to hang his arm around me. It slips down between my breasts. I count my heartbeats against his hand, a soothing sensation if ever I’ve felt one. It takes some time, but the magic works on Serge, too. As our pulses equalize together, he lets himself down a little. “What was it about?” I ask. Serge’s stress picks right back up, this time in his face. His forehead wrinkles in a way dangerously close to that of his father’s. It’s like the thought is too big to pass through the opening of his mind. He struggles with it for about five seconds, then admits:
