by Ava Benton
I could already imagine what she’d arranged; there was something to be said for having worked with someone long enough to nearly be able to read their mind.
Hers wasn’t the only mind I could read, either.
Alan was clearly desperate to get things over with in order to get back to the business of making himself at home once again. Already, I’d noticed four or five of the clan members we’d traveled with hurrying back toward the cave mouth. Their dragons were straining to be let free.
So was my lion.
Show all of them who is truly strong, my lion urged, growling and pacing in my head. We are the most feared, the most revered, we could take on all of them.
It was one thing for the lion to feel that way, but another for the sentiment to be true in reality. I hated to disagree with him, but the idea of two dozen dragons against a solitary lion didn’t leave me with much confidence. If he wanted to believe that, he could continue to do so as long as I maintained control.
We’d shift later, I decided as I followed Alan to the room which would be mine, ten doors down from the control center. I counted as we went, just to make certain I couldn’t be accused of walking into the wrong room at an inopportune moment. The doors were all identical, a flat, matte shade of gray, and the corridor floor was smooth stone covered in a long, ornate, colorful runner which contrasted with the otherwise bleak surroundings.
My single-wheeled suitcase in hand, I stepped into the room which would be mine for the foreseeable future through a door which slid open when Alan entered a code in a small keypad to the right of the doorframe.
I watched closely, memorizing the five-digit series of numbers for future reference.
“What do you think?” he asked, hanging back while I explored.
“I think this gives the resort a run for its money,” I admitted with a chuckle, unable to believe they could turn what was essentially a hole in a cave and turn it into a luxurious retreat. “The only thing missing are windows, really.”
“Yes, one thing we never could quite replicate,” he replied. “But otherwise, we tried to allow for all comforts and conveniences.”
Had they ever. The headboard of what looked like a king-sized bed extended to the ceiling and was covered in an embroidered gold fabric. Gold seemed to be a theme in the room, showing up in the light fixtures, the bedspread, some of the pillows on the bed and the easy chair which sat in one corner.
Opposite the bed was a wall-mounted flat-screen TV, beside which was a touchpad.
“You can access an extremely wide music, film, and television archive through this,” Alan explained, demonstrating how it worked. “Everything’s in the cloud, so we didn’t lose it. One thing we didn’t lose.” His tone was somber.
They’d lost a lot, this I knew.
Beyond the bedroom was a large bathroom, marble and gold, with a huge glass-walled shower, a deep tub, a steam closet. “Does everyone have this?”
“Yes, everyone.”
I turned to him. “I might never leave.”
An hour later, I was preparing to haul the last of the cameras into the cave on a wheeled cart. Above my head circled at least a dozen or more dragons, all of them rejoicing in being free. I didn’t have to understand the snorts and growls and occasional roars to know what they meant.
I smiled for them, glad they could have their time together. I, on the other hand, had hours of wiring security cameras to look forward to. It didn’t help that I was hungry, but I’d been led to understand there would be food coming in from the city within the next hour or so. Two of them had driven out to fill a pair of SUVs with food for everyone.
I couldn’t imagine how much food it would take, or how long it would take to unload it all. I was never one to shy away from work, but I’d just made four trips back and forth to the heart of the caves and didn’t enjoy the thought of making that walk another few times.
A hot shower and a lot of meat. That was what I needed. Perhaps then, my lion would silence himself and allow me to think through the process of building the network for the security feed.
Lights filtering through the trees caught my eye. The sun was beginning to set, the sky turning a soft shade of dusky blue, and I recognized the SUVs approaching.
My stomach rumbled in response. They had food, and it had been before dawn when I last ate. Any food left behind in the caves had long since spoiled, since the power to the freezer had been cut off.
One of the drivers was Ainsley, who looked none too pleased to find me standing at the mouth of the cave. Instead of waving or even nodding, she walked around to the back of the vehicle and raised the tailgate.
I had offended her, but I had no time to devote to her problems or bruised feelings. There was a feed to be set up and cameras to be placed. Work to be done before I could get out of there, surprisingly luxurious though it was.
“Ainsley!” Tamhas, the other driver, called out to her from the rear end of his vehicle. “Hurry up, so we can get up there before dark!”
“Oh, it’s all right,” she replied.
Her voice floated to me on the warm breeze, sounding remarkably low-energy for someone who’d just returned home. The rest of the were like children, playing and laughing and flying in circles overhead, while she reminded me of a fatigued young mother attempting to keep her children in line.
“You go on. I can take care of your cargo, too.”
“Are you certain?” He was nearly ready to burst from his skin with excitement, but at least wanted to make it seem as though he knew it would be a rotten thing to leave her alone.
“Absolutely. Have a nice time.” She appeared, pulling a wheeled cart, not unlike mine, on which she’d stacked four boxes of raw meat. My mouth watered at the sight and the thought and, most of all, the scent.
When she spotted me waiting there, she shook her head. “You want first pick?”
I almost reeled at the bitterness in her question.
“What? Not at all. Do you think I’m truly that selfish?” I wanted to ask why she thought I’d come all the way to Scotland, if I were truly a self-centered opportunist.
“I wouldn’t know, I’m sure.” She maintained a quick pace down the length of the tunnel.
I followed, more confused over her than ever.
And concerned. Concern even drowned out the confusion.
I’d guessed before that something was wrong with her.
Now, I was certain of it.
6
Ainsley
It looked as though I’d be living in my room for the rest of my life.
The females of the clan never performed guard duty outside the cave, which in this case was a rare stroke of good luck. No one would expect me to shift on command if there was no reason for it.
Strangely enough, there was once a time when being considered unfit to guard the clan had been a great source of irritation for me. I’d nearly gone to war with the men in an attempt to change their minds. It hadn’t gone well.
Years later, I was grateful for that failure.
Otherwise, I had no choice but to hide. I made it a point to spend my time alone over the first several days post-return. After so many years living with my clan, I knew their routines. I knew when the kitchen was most likely to be crowded. I knew when the game rooms and common areas would be busy, too.
I could avoid them, as long as I took care.
How long would that last, though? How much longer did I have before someone knew something was wrong? Out of so many, it was bound to happen sooner or later. One of them would put two and two together and realize they hadn’t seen my dragon since coming back to the caves. They’d ask another, who’d ask another, until finally, the entire clan would see me for what I really was.
An outsider. A nobody.
My only hope was for the dragon to come back before that time arrived.
I closed my eyes, stretched out on my back in bed. I’d so missed my bed. My clothes. My private bathroom.
Privacy in
general.
Funny thing, that. I’d always thrived on being around others before. Swimming was my only alone time; beyond it, I had routinely taken comfort in the presence of the clan. Perhaps to an extreme. I’d always known everybody’s secrets, what secrets we could keep at any rate. I’d been the one to listen to problems, to nurse the others through any little illness those of our kind could come down with. It was a rarity, but I’d always enjoyed doing feeling as though I was a help.
If such a thing could be enjoyed.
One of them would surely notice the change in me. It was as if the sword of Damocles hung over my head, suspended by the thinnest of threads. When would the thread break? What would I do when it did? Who could I turn to?
I slid my hands over the sheets beneath me, so soft and smooth against my skin. Pale gray under a silk bedspread of ash rose, the colors were singed into my mind. I didn’t have to open my eyes to see them. Just like I didn’t have to look to admire the walls with their thick eggplant-and-white stripes, or at the plush gray carpeting on the floor. My sanctuary, done up in my favorite colors.
Good thing it was, since I’d be looking at it more than I ever had.
There were voices outside the closed door. Ever-present, ever-changing, the voices of those I loved and wished I had just a little more faith in. If I did, I might not be so afraid.
I wasn’t accustomed to fear. Fear was not a state in which dragons lived; it simply didn’t exist within our nature. I’d never navigated it prior to that last, golden day. Was it possible for a creature who’d existed as long as I had to remain naïve? For I’d been naïve without having known it. I’d imagined us as being untouchable.
Perhaps I was experiencing fear for the first time because my dragon was gone. Completely, utterly gone, erased from existence. In her absence was a confused, directionless human who could only look back on better times and hope none of the others recognized a liar in their midst.
The walls were closing in on me. My chest was tight. I took short, shallow breaths, the tightness expanding all the time as panic spread.
My eyes flew open.
I had to get out of here before I went insane.
It was late afternoon, and whoever felt like eating a family meal would be getting started in the kitchen. We didn’t always eat together; it would be far too much work to be performed on a daily basis, as dragons tended to eat a lot. Feasting together on special days was a far more sustainable approach.
Even so, there always seemed to be a handful of us who’d come together for an evening meal. I used to be one of them and would often take the lead. Delegating in the kitchen was something I’d excelled at. Isla and Leslie used to tease that I really only enjoyed bossing everybody around.
And they were right.
I smiled to myself as I changed into a swimsuit with only one destination in mind. It was the only destination that made sense. I hadn’t gone down yet to commune with the serenity and beauty that was Dunsapie Loch; too many other concerns held me back. Once I had my mind made up to swim until my muscles trembled, I no longer felt rudderless.
There was still one aspect of my life that didn’t have to change.
Remember, you’re normal. Everything is fine. I made it a point not to avoid eye contact as I walked through the tunnel, fighting to keep a semblance of normalcy about me. How many times had I made that walk? Since before we had electric lights dotting the ceiling. Since before even lanterns had existed. We’d walked in darkness, using our sensitive sight to navigate by.
There were times when I could hardly remember those days. They seemed like something out of a dream, a shade of a memory. As though they’d been lived by somebody else and I’d only heard of them second-hand.
And yet, I could remember some things so clearly. The way the air had smelled before the city’s rise, the wind soon carrying the stench of human and animal waste, cooking fires, followed by coal and the thick, sooty smoke which had drifted our way whenever the wind blew just right. I remembered that, too, and the marvel of first spotting automobiles in the distance. I’d seen it all come and go.
How much more would I be able to see if my dragon never returned? Would I begin to age?
I looked down at my hands as I walked, expecting to find age spots on papery skin. With luck, it wouldn’t happen that quickly. But it surely had to. My dragon was the only thing which separated me from humans and their weaknesses.
I would succumb to common ailments. Cold, flu, infection. My body would begin to slow down, to weaken. A chill ran through me when I considered the enormity of what waited just over the horizon.
A breath of fresh air on exiting the cave helped, as did the crystal-clear sky. I turned in a slow circle, eyes tilted upward, and saw not a single cloud. The light had already begun taking on a warm, late-day glow, making me look forward to what would surely be a brilliant sunset.
My feet found the path to the loch without guidance from my brain, the route as much a part of me as the color of my eyes. I’d been walking it long enough, and again, I couldn’t help reflecting on the changes which had taken place over the centuries. There was once nothing but rolling land for miles in every direction, dotted by trees and rock formations, the occasional cottage popping up now and then.
And the water. Beautiful, clear, reflecting the sky back on itself as it flowed in streams and rivers, pooling in deep lochs like the one I was about to finally dive into for the first time in far too long.
Except I wasn’t the first to make the trip. When I rounded the pointed boulder which marked a sharp right turn before the path led straight down a steep slope to the water’s edge, I immediately took notice of a figure cutting through the dark water below.
A sure stroke, long and powerful, the arms and legs thick. Capable.
They didn’t belong to a human.
“Damn him,” I whispered as Klaus continued to swim, unaware of my presence.
Frustration sent hot, stinging tears to my eyes, anger at myself for letting emotion get the better of me only made it worse.
It was the one thing I felt I still had. One thing that meant I was still me. The absence of prying, judging eyes too, a place to let down my guard. And he’d ruined it.
I could just imagine what would be in store for me if I continued down the slope. Questions. Banter he’d find far wittier than I would. It wasn’t worth the irritation. I would wait him out, instead.
I eased myself to the ground, my back against the boulder. It was deliciously warm from the sun’s rays. I leaned into it, resting my troubled head. So much conflict, so many questions, like an ongoing storm tearing me apart.
And at the same time, there was something missing. A second voice. A voice which hadn’t always guided me toward the safest course of action, but it had never steered me wrong. My dragon.
To think, there were times when I’d wished she’d leave me alone and allow me to think rationally. She’d always gone on instinct, always ready to forge ahead based on supreme self-confidence. Why wouldn’t she be confident? She was a dragon of Scotland, descended from the original line of dragons who’d first stepped foot on Scottish soil before man had even discovered it.
How she’d known this, I had never understood. We’d all known it, had been born with the knowledge. No one had to teach us who we were or why we were important.
I missed her.
When my eyes closed, I didn’t know. One moment I’d been reflecting on my loneliness and the next, a shadow fell over me and surprised me into wakefulness.
I scrambled to my feet. “You’re one for sneaking up on a person, aren’t you?”
He rewarded me with a look somewhere between a smirk and a sneer. “You were fast asleep. To the point where I only approached to make certain you were still alive. I cleared my throat to signal my approach, and you didn’t flinch.”
I frowned. “Ah. Well. I suppose I haven’t been sleeping enough.”
“You’ve been in your room for the better part of these
last days.”
My frown deepened, and I pressed myself a little closer to the boulder, leaving more distance between us. His observation unnerved me. “How do you know that?”
It was his turn to frown. “I simply noticed not having seen you about the place.”
“Did you mention this to anyone else?” If my fingers could have dug into the very stone at my back, they would have. If my claws were still available to me, I might have carved deep gashes.
What if he had brought my absence to the attention of the others? I hadn’t counted on his being the one to destroy things for me, and yet it made the most sense in hindsight. He was an outsider, an “other.”
And he seemed to see everything. Even that which he had no business seeing.
His eyes narrowed at the shrillness in my voice. “I don’t believe so, I’ve been busy. If I did, why would it be a problem for you?”
“I never said it would be.”
“You didn’t have to.”
A scream threatened to tear from my throat, one which I managed to hold back. Barely. “Please, Klaus. I know you owe me nothing. Even so, I must ask you to do something important.”
He tilted his head to the side, the setting sun’s rays turning his wet, slicked-back hair to pure gold. Except for a deep set of scars running down the side of his face, his physical beauty was near perfect. Almost distractingly so.
“What is it?”
“I must ask that you leave my affairs to me. Speak of me to no one. Spare me no special attention. There are reasons why I behave as I do, but they’re my reasons alone. Leave them that way.”
If this surprised him, he didn’t show it. His expression remained the same, inquisitive, a bit concerned. Why did he care?
I wanted to strangle him, to warn him against treading where he wasn’t welcome. To beg him not to destroy me with his unwelcome attention.
For one crazy moment, I wanted to tell him. To unburden myself. He had no stake in the situation, which made him the safest alternative.
