The Last Dragonet

by Shannon West

  Dmitri took a deep breath, lowered me to my feet and took a step back. I couldn’t believe it—I was so hot and bothered by this time that I thought I was about to spontaneously combust. Surely he wasn’t going to just leave me like this. Was he? My hands were tingling all the way to my shoulders and I swayed a little, almost dizzy with need.

  “Go upstairs now and go to bed. I’ll talk to you again soon.”

  “You-you don’t want to go up with me?” I groaned, feeling reckless. I should have been running in the other direction, as far and as fast as I could, but he was so damn beautiful. Even knowing he could destroy me didn’t stop me wanting him.

  He gave me an unfathomable look, then shook his head regretfully and whirled around to leave. I still had some pride left—a little—so I turned my back on him and trudged to the steps. As I began to slowly climb, his voice drifted up the stairs behind me. “Lock the door behind you, Luca.”

  I just kept walking and never looked back at him.

  Stepping inside, I locked the door in a daze and then leaned against it, feeling exhausted and more than a little confused by it all. The old, familiar pain was beginning in my head. Not bad yet, but still promising me a sleepless night. I could hear Dmitri’s footsteps fading away outside, and hurried to the only window I had to watch the gorgeous agent walking away. He had such a nice ass. I wondered what in the hell I’d gotten myself into because that kiss had melted my insides, and I wanted more. I turned away from the window with a sigh and began to undress. Afterward, I lay back on the bed keeping the worst of the pain at bay by stroking myself to the memory of Dmitri’s mouth on mine. I fantasized about him sticking his cock down my throat until I came in my hand harder than I had in months.

  No way was this thing going to end well. No way in hell.

  Chapter Two

  My job at the store was no big deal, really, but I liked it. It was only putting up groceries and helping out sometimes behind the register if my boss got busy—nothing exciting. But I’d worked on Mr. Alvarez, the store owner, for a long time to get him to give me a chance at this job. To some people I’m sure it looked pretty damn boring just stocking the shelves, but to me, growing up the way I had, the store was a haven, a blissful escape.

  When I was a kid, I used to love coming to the little store to buy a soda when I had the money, or to just hang out when I didn’t. It was always cool inside and so calm and orderly, not like the chaos I was used to at home. It smelled good, too, like deli meats and fresh bread and ground coffee. I had a sensitive nose so smells were important. At the store, there was activity, sure, but it was mostly housewives bustling around doing their weekly shopping. They often had their little kids along, riding in the shopping carts. The kids always smelled good too, like milk and baby powder and cookies.

  The third time I had come by the store with dark blue and purple bruises on my face, Mr. Alvarez had given me a long look. And one cold night, when he’d gone out to the alley to empty garbage, he had found me sleeping half inside a big box turned on its side beside the store. That night, I had some bruised ribs that made it hard to breathe, and my eye was almost swollen shut. Right away, he had offered me a room upstairs that used to be storage, but that he’d recently furnished with a small cot. He said it was for the nights when he worked late doing inventory, but I think he’d done it just for me. He never asked me any questions about my bruises and respected my privacy. I really appreciated that about him. He even refused to take money for the storeroom, saying it was basically just a big closet and it had been going to waste. It might as well be used for something. He gave me a key and told me I could use it any time I needed to.

  When I had insisted on paying my way, he agreed to let me sweep out the store every night and mop the floors, though he kept telling me it wasn’t necessary. Eventually, he’d let me stock groceries, too, and help out behind the register and he started giving me a small hourly wage.

  The store was a little mom and pop operation that had seen better days, but I loved it. Mrs. Alvarez had passed away a few years before from cancer, so Mr. Alvarez ran the place all by himself, with only me and another young kid who did deliveries on his bike. The neighborhood was a little rough, but the store was clean and well-kept—I saw to that. And everybody loved Mr. Alvarez, who was eighty-two years old and still worked in the store every day.

  The day after I met with Dmitri was a Wednesday, and since payday was Friday for most of our customers, there was always a flurry of grocery shopping on Thursday, the housewives hoping the rubber checks they wrote wouldn’t hit the bank till the next day. Most of our clientele lived from paycheck to paycheck, so we were normally busy. Late that afternoon, I got an unexpected phone call from my dad.

  I hadn’t heard from him in forever, and I didn’t even think he knew where I worked. But Mr. Alvarez called me to the phone and handed me the receiver, giving me a long, funny look. I saw why when I answered.

  “Hello?”

  “Luca, this is your father.”

  I didn’t know what to say to him, so I didn’t say anything, just stood there shuffling my feet.

  “Luca?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I need you to come home. Now.”

  “I’m working.”

  “Like I give a shit. Get your ass over here.”

  “No.”

  There was a little silence. Then, in a voice full of barely controlled violence, “What did you say to me?”

  “I said, no. I’m working, Dad. I might be able to come over when I get off.”

  He cussed for a while. My old man was a world class cusser. I listened to it for a few minutes and then shut him down. “Look, I’m sorry, but I got to get back to work.”

  “Don’t you hang up on me. I’ll come over there and whip your sorry ass.” His voice was low and mean. He was drunk, as usual, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t do it.

  “Dad, give me a break. I have to go back to work.”

  There was a long silence and then, “What time do you get off?” We didn’t close the store until eight, so I told him that, and he blew out a long breath. “Okay. As soon as you get off then, get your ass over here or I’ll come after you.”

  “Is it something you can just tell me over the phone?”

  He hung up on me, and I was standing there listening to a dial tone. I could feel the headache starting up behind my eyes. I went to the front of the store and bought a little tin of aspirin and swallowed two of them down. I took so many of them I ought to own stock in the company by now.

  We had a few late customers, so eight rolled around and went right on by. By eight-thirty, Mr. Alvarez was looking pale and his hands were shaking a little more than usual. I told him to go on to the bank to make his deposit and then go home, and I’d sweep and lock up. I glanced up at the clock and wondered if my dad would make good on his threat to come after me, but I’d worry about that when and if the time came. Mr. Alvarez thanked me and said he thought he might take me up on it, the same thing he said to me every Thursday evening, and then he finished making out his deposit slip and was out the door.

  By nine o’clock, I’d mostly finished sweeping and as I cleaned up and straightened out stock, I kept thinking about my old man and how furious he was going to be because I was so late. I was also thinking about Dmitri and wondering when he might show up again. He’d said he’d talk to me soon. I should have been running as fast as I could in the other direction, but I’d enjoyed that brief kiss. And I wanted more. He had landed in my life like a falling star, but I knew that those lights we call falling stars were really just bits of stardust and rock that fall into the Earth’s atmosphere and burn up, torching everything in their path. I had to be careful around him or I could get hurt. Still, I wanted badly to see him again.

  Sighing a little, I decided to wait till the next morning to mop. I was kind of hoping that my dad had passed out since he hadn’t called back. Maybe by tomorrow, he’d have forgotten all about it. I was putting up the long
-handled broom when I heard an insistent tapping at the door. Shit. The last customers had left the store over an hour ago and I’d seen Mr. Alvarez put up the “Closed” sign and pull down the shade over the door, so I wasn’t sure who could be knocking. I hoped it wasn’t my dad. I yelled out, “Sorry, we’re closed,” and that’s when all hell broke loose.

  The door flew open with a loud crash and a flurry of breaking glass. Several shadows disengaged themselves from the darkness of the sidewalk in front of the store and crowded their way inside so aggressively that a couple of them got stuck in the door. It would have been almost funny if it hadn’t been for the fact that they were some kind of Spawn I’d never seen before.

  Most Spawn couldn’t shift, but a few could bulk up and look vaguely reptilian and even sprout some rudimentary wings to fly for short little hops. Some could breathe a little fire, in a pitiful parody of the Reds and the Goldens, or puff out bolts of lightning in short spurts like the Silvers. All of them were big and mean—but I had never seen anything like these guys.

  They had to be Spawn, but if they were, then they were Spawn on fucking steroids. They were like something I couldn’t have dreamed up in my worst nightmares, and that’s saying a lot. More transformed than any Spawn I’d ever seen, all four of them were tall and a kind of yellow-green—not the green of new things that come up in the spring, but more like the baby shit on the diapers the mothers throw away sometimes in the bathrooms. They smelled about as bad too.

  Their skin had scales and their eyes and noses were mere slits in their faces. The one who started toward me had black hair growing on his head like a Mohawk that extended on down his neck and back. It was his face that was the worst, though, a long snout like an alligator’s with teeth that were serrated like a saw. He had short arms like a croc’s, the only thing that was currently preventing him from putting his hands around my neck as I tried to hold him off.

  A long, thick tail whipped around behind him, knocking off all the cans on the shelves as he and I struggled in the aisle. A couple of them were standing by us and watching as I wrestled with the thing. They were Spawn too, though they weren’t quite as reptilian. One of them was by the door and I heard him yell out something, which seemed to be hard for him with that croc mouth of his. That’s when I saw Dmitri come pushing into the store, and the Spawn rushed to meet him.

  By this time, I was pretty busy myself, so I missed what happened next. The thing on me suddenly knocked my feet out from under me, fell down on top of me and went into a death roll, again, just like an alligator. He wound up on top of me, his bony hands gripping my shoulders as he brought his mouth with those godawful teeth down toward my face.

  I kicked up to where his balls ought to be with my knee and was glad to see him open his mouth and roar with pain. His putrid breath almost knocked me out before he fell off beside me, and I took a moment to check on Dmitri.

  He had apparently twisted the knife in the Spawn’s hand and brought it up between them to jab in the Spawn’s eye, because its eye spurted blood, and it let out a high-pitched shriek. It clapped a hand over the wound and stumbled out the front door.

  He grabbed the next one by its tail and incredibly swung it up and over his head, flinging it against the wall with so much force it shuddered once and then lay still. He walked over to it and kicked it in the teeth, smashing in its mouth to make sure it didn’t move again. By that time the gator guy was on me again, and Dmitri grabbed it around the neck, tumbled it off to the side and put his boot to its neck to hold it down. Its claw-like hands scrabbled on the floor, trying to get away, but Dmitri pulled back his leg and his foot connected with its ass.

  The Spawn scooted forward like it was on wheels and crashed into the wall, its bony skull caved in and red blood poured out, staining its black Mohawk and spreading out all over the floor. Dmitri turned back to me. “Are you all right? Did they hurt you before I got here?”

  “No, I-I think I’m okay. I’ve never seen Spawn like that before.”

  “No, neither have I, but I suspect they’re part of Samboa’s gang, altered by some kind of drug or…something,” Dmitri said, taking hold of my arm to help me off the floor. “I was hoping we’d have more time, but they got to you before I could. They were sent here for you, Luca. They came to kidnap you or maybe kill you, and that’s why I’m here. To protect you and take you with me. I know you don’t understand now, but I need you to go upstairs and get your things. Hurry. You’re coming with me.”

  Get your things, you’re coming with me? Just like that? I wasn’t going anywhere with this guy. Did he think I was stupid? Then I thought maybe I misunderstood him, so I just narrowed my eyes at him and waited patiently for him to tell me what the fuck he was talking about.

  Instead, he gave me a none-too-gentle push. “Go on...you need to hurry. Go up and get your things before more of those—whatever the hell they are—come back.”

  “What? I’m not going anywhere until I know what’s going on. What are you even talking about?” I watched as Dmitri's eyes narrowed and he huffed. When he did, he blew out a huge puff of black smoke. Pretty impressive stuff.

  He clamped his even, white teeth together, speaking through them. “Look, we don’t have time for me to explain everything, so I’m going to give you the short version. Don’t ask questions and don’t argue with me. Just listen, shut your mouth and cooperate.”

  “No, you look. You may be some kind of government agent, but you don’t have any rights where I’m concerned. I’m an American citizen, buddy.” I emphasized the point by reaching up and poking a finger in his chest, then immediately realized what I’d done and took a few steps back. “I’m sorry! Don’t eat me!”

  I might have fallen to my knees if he’d come any closer, but he held up his hand to stop me. “Luca, I don’t have time for this. I have information that Artie’s gang has been hired to take you...Look, I-uh-I brought you a message from your father if you don’t believe me.”

  “Take me? What does that mean? My father? What the fuck?” Was this why my dad had called? I’d been avoiding going back home since the last time my dad decided to use me as a punching bag and as far as I was concerned, I hadn’t missed a thing.

  “I’ll explain later, but don’t worry. He’s safe. He sent you a message that he’s worried about you.”

  “It would be the first fucking time then,” I said. “Listen, why would anybody want to kill me, and what does this have to do with anything, for that matter? What are you talking about?”

  With a long suffering sigh, like he was the injured party here instead of me, he treated me to another eye-roll. “I’ve already told you that I don’t have time to dick around here. The Spawn will be coming back soon. They’re probably on their way right now, so we need to get the hell out of here, like ten minutes ago.”

  I just kept backing up and shaking my head. “What is this shit?”

  He frowned at me. “I don’t know what you mean. Your father’s worried about you, that’s all.”

  “Tell me another one.”

  He narrowed his eyes at me. “Huh?”

  “My dad rarely climbs out of a bottle long enough to say much of anything. And here’s a news flash for you—he called me already and wanted me to come over there tonight, but I haven’t decided if I will. To say that he doesn’t have my best interests at heart is an understatement. Hell, he barely knows or cares that I exist.”

  He shot me an annoyed look, no doubt pissed because his lie didn’t work. “We still need to get going before we have to fight our way out of here. You have to come with me. I’m telling you they’ll be back.”

  “But I don’t know you—I don’t know anything about you other than that you say you work for some government agency, but you never say which one. If it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll take my chances right here.”

  As if on cue, Sebastien, the other agent who had been with Dmitri the first time I met him walked in, stepped over the body on the floor and didn’t even gl
ance down at it. He seemed edgy. Hell, join the club.

  “Dmitri, what the fuck? We need to go.”

  “I know that,” he snapped at the man over his shoulder. “I’m working on it.”

  “Oh, bullshit,” the guy said, reached inside the breast pocket of his suit and pulled out a revolver from a shoulder holster. “Just make him come with us. If you don’t, I will.”

  “The hell you will,” I yelled at him and turned to run past Dmitri and out the door. That’s when Dmitri’s hand came up and grabbed my collar, lifting me off my feet. He held me up in the air and stabbed down at my arm. I felt a sharp pain just below my shoulder and then a burning sensation. I looked down, expecting to see a knife, but instead there was a hypodermic needle sticking out of my arm. I looked back up at him and whatever he saw on my face made him narrow his eyes again. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have said the look in his eyes was one of regret.

  “I’m sorry, Luca,” he said, but his words were coming at me through a long dark tunnel, and the pinprick of light at the end of it started to get bigger and bigger as it hurtled toward me until it was blinding me. I felt his arms go around me as my knees gave out, and then he was easing me to the floor. He was still saying something, but I couldn’t understand a word. It was garbled and seemed to be getting fainter and fainter. I struggled to keep my eyes open, but they felt like somebody had put weights on them. Then the bright light slammed into me and that was the last thing I was aware of until I woke up in the back seat of a car, the street lights of Atlanta flashing by me.

  ****

  The first thing I was aware of as I regained consciousness was that I was leaning up against something hard. I cracked my eyes open and turned my head to see what it was and saw Dmitri. I sat bolt upright and jerked away from him. That’s when I realized that I was handcuffed to him. “What are you doing? Take these off me right now.” That little outburst was accompanied by a drum roll pounding in my head.