by Ava Benton
I could have. He gave me more than enough time to change my mind and confess my pain. I thought he might even have been hesitating in order to allow for that confession.
The words never came.
He nodded. “As you wish.”
What I wished was for him to stop looking at me as he did, as though he had no intention of keeping his word.
I turned and hurried back up to the cave, forgetting that I’d ever intended to swim.
7
Klaus
I asked myself why my heart sank as she disappeared, but no answer came.
It made no sense, and sense was something I’d relied on throughout my long, sometimes painful life. It was why I’d remained alive as long as I had. Because I used reason and chose a course of action based on what my reasoning told me.
And yet there was another factor which had always come through, and I felt them piercing at the back of my mind as I turned to face the setting sun. My instincts wouldn’t allow me to simply forget her because she’d asked me to. If anything, the fact that she’d gone so far as to request I leave her alone made it impossible to ever do so.
My lion wasn’t convinced, either. He wanted me to pursue her, follow her, find out what was wrong. She needed our help.
“She doesn’t want our help,” I muttered. “There’s no helping someone when they don’t wish to be helped.”
The lion didn’t wish to hear this. He rarely wished to hear that which didn’t meld with his opinions.
His presence began to overwhelm me, his consciousness expanding to overtake the human side of me. I knew better than to fight him and, in fact, saw no reason to. There was barely time to slide out of the shorts I’d used to swim in before the shift took place and my human consciousness faded into the background.
He’d wanted nothing more than this, the freedom to run down the slope toward the loch. The wind blew through his mane—my mane, mine, my legs running, my muscles stretching. My heart racing. The sheer joy of unleashing the fullness of my strength was like nothing else.
Paws pounding against the ground, I ran alongside the water’s edge with the mountain to my right. Dusk was coming on fast, but that was hardly a concern as I picked up speed until I was running full-out. Flying over the ground.
The flap of wings above my head served as a reminder that I was not flying. Not really. I might have had speed, I may have been the most fearsome and deadly beast imaginable, but I was still limited to land. The dragons could soar over everything, could look down at the world from a perspective I couldn’t imagine.
Massive though I was, and powerful, I must have looked like nothing but a kitten from the height of the dragon which sailed overhead. The knowledge of this did little to thrill me. I could almost taste my envy and resentment at being considered weaker or at a disadvantage.
None of them had ever given me a reason to think they believed so, but that meant little. The sense of being something other than them, different from them, lingered in my mind even as I enjoyed being in the form in which I felt the most comfortable.
I pushed all human thought to the back of my mind and focused on the now. The freedom, the exhilaration, the raw power pulsing through my body as it did what it was built to do.
A new scent.
I stopped dead, nostrils flaring as I sniffed the air. I hadn’t smelled anything like it since our arrival—the scent of my hosts was familiar enough, having spent so much time among them in St. Lucia. The scent wasn’t theirs.
It was human.
My sharp eyes scanned the land, moving slowly over the mountains and the smaller foothills at their base. I had been unwise, leaving myself open to attack in the valley while surrounded on three sides by higher ground. The wind was coming from the west to my left, and I looked in that direction for the source of what I’d noticed.
I saw nothing out of the ordinary.
Had I imagined it?
No. Impossible. Someone had been there.
Another glance up at the sky confirmed that the dragon I’d noticed had already flown off. There was no one to confirm what I thought—no, what I knew—I’d sensed.
It was with a sense of caution that I returned to the boulder where I’d left my clothing, trotting rather than running. My ears tuned to even the slightest sounds, I heard everything, the chirping of crickets as they began their nightly song, the croaking of frogs near the water. Even the flapping of bat wings, so much smaller than those of the dragons.
Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
Only when I was certain it was safe to do so, I shifted back to my human form and dressed. It was easier to think when I was human, too, and my thoughts ran wild as I rushed back to the cave with my eyes sweeping back and forth all the while.
“Where is Alan?” I asked the first dragon I came across. Bonnie, Gate’s mother, who was winding her long, gray-streaked hair into a braid.
“I am not sure.” She frowned.
I realized that coming in from the outdoors meant she must have been the dragon soaring above me, which meant she hadn’t seen him recently. “Were you just flying out there?”
“Aye, and I noticed you, cutting across the valley.”
“Did you notice anyone else?”
Another frown, along with troubled eyes this time. “What do you mean? One of us?”
“No, not one of you. Another. A human.”
She shook her head.
“Is it common for humans to wander this area?”
“Not at all. In fact, there is an enchantment on the woods to ensure humans cannot find their way through to the mountain.”
“What about the other side of the valley? Beyond the lake— loch?”
“It is far too treacherous beyond the loch,” she explained. “The land is boggy, the grass high. Any number of creatures live there.”
That meant nothing, and we both knew it. How could she not, after what had happened only months earlier? Their mountain and its caves were not impregnable, and thanks to the kidnapping, no longer secret.
Who had their kidnappers told of their location? Were there more of them somewhere? Lying in wait?
I continued into the cave, through the tunnel, with Bonnie on my heels. Her husband had died in the fight, I recalled, and while she’d maintained a calm demeanor since then and had done what she could to unite the clan under Alan’s leadership, there was bound to be quite a bit of anxiety wrapped up in the way her life had pivoted in a single day.
Alan was in the control center, speaking to Owen and Tamhas. The three of them seemed distracted when they looked up to find me in the doorway, but that distraction turned to concern when they noticed how troubled I was.
Which turned to grave concern once I finished telling them what I’d sensed.
“Is your sense of smell as strong when you’re in this form?” Alan asked, folding his arms with his feet planted at shoulder width.
Strangely, though they were physically so different, his posture reminded me of his twin. She often took that stance.
“Not nearly as much.”
“And it’s clearly stronger than ours if Bonnie couldn’t pick up the scent,” he murmured, brows drawing together in a frown.
“What do you suggest?” Owen asked, looking up at his leader from his seat in front of the bank of monitors.
They showed nothing aside from the occasional bird, squirrel, rabbit. At that time of day, the sun fully set, the infrared feature picked up on body heat rather than relying on seeing in the dark. Nothing much was going on out there at the moment.
I wished I could shake the feeling that the peace and calm wouldn’t last.
Alan looked to me. “What do you think about spending time patrolling as your lion? I realize it’s a bit of an inconvenience, even too much to ask, but I believe you could be of tremendous help.”
“It isn’t too much to ask,” I assured him, having already been on the verge of coming up with the same plan.
If he hadn’t asked m
e to do it, I would’ve done it on my own, whether or not he thought I should. There was no way I could keep myself from searching for the source of that distinctive scent.
An idea struck me. “Would it be possible for me to make a call to Mary from here? Perhaps she could help shed some light on the situation.”
“You truly believe this is a threat,” Tamhas observed, his voice nearly a whisper.
I took note of the fact that he wasn’t asking a question. He was stating a fact.
“I can do you one better,” Owen offered, pulling up a video chat app on the computer. “She suggested we set this up, the way the Appalachian branch of the clan has done. In case of emergency.”
It seemed ridiculous, really, to use such an arrangement for emergencies. An entire ocean stretched out between us. How could she provide assistance? Then again, I reminded myself, Mary’s network was wide and far-reaching. There was no telling how many friends she had all over the world, friends with the same interests and abilities.
I took a seat and waited for the call to go through. Before I could ask them to, Alan and the others left the room for privacy’s sake. Moments later, Mary’s face filled one of the wide monitors.
I couldn’t help but feel a sense of surprise at how comforting the sight of her face was. I’d seen her every day for so many years.
Her smile was wide, genuine, and her eyes warm and sparkling. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever reach out at all.”
Her dry wit hadn’t suffered in the few days we’d spent apart. “There have only been a few things to take care of here. Otherwise, it’s been a real holiday.”
She grew serious. “Is everything well? Have there been any problems?”
I glanced toward the closed door, wondering if any of them were listening outside. There was enough ambient noise from the running of computers and whirring of cooling fans that I thought our conversation was private enough.
“I think I may have picked up on a foreign presence today. Alan has asked that my lion patrol the area.”
“Did you see anyone or anything?”
“No, and neither did Bonnie, while she flew nearby. But I know what I smelled.”
“I would certainly never question you,” she said, waving a dismissive hand as she mulled this over. “Do you have any thoughts on who it could’ve been? Have you seen anything else out of the ordinary?”
Ainsley’s face flashed at the forefront of my mind. Yes, she was outside the ordinary. Far outside. So far, I couldn’t get her out of my head. I’d been looking for her for days, my eyes searching for her particular shade of hair with its long curls. For her fine features, her full mouth and high cheekbones. The sort of face a man wanted to draw close to his.
Something told me this was not what Mary was questioning me over. “Nothing before today.”
“And how do they seem to be adjusting? Any problems?”
Again, Ainsley came to mind. Whatever was bothering her wasn’t Mary’s concern, of course, which was why I kept it to myself. “If anything, they seem to have adjusted unnaturally well,” I admitted, lowering my voice even though I knew it meant nothing to do so. Their hearing was just as sharp as mine, even while in human form.
“They would,” she observed with a wry smile. “In case you hadn’t noticed, you shifters tend to keep your emotions to yourselves.”
“Is that the case?” I growled, only partly serious.
“When it suits you,” she replied before sighing. “I know you well enough to know it’s useless to ask whether you’re thinking along the lines I am.”
“That there is not, in fact, an enchantment to keep threats away from the mountain? That if a group of mercenaries already managed to make it here, anyone can manage it? That perhaps the enchantment, if there ever was one—debatable, if you ask me—has worn off or was only intended to work prior to the invention of satellites and other technology?”
“And that the group killed in the lab weren’t the only ones involved,” she finished. “I’d feared that this could be the case. I’ve had associates in the United Kingdom working on this for me since we liberated the laboratory weeks ago. They haven’t come back with anything concrete, as the group which performed the kidnapping and testing appears to be a highly covert operation.”
“I would imagine,” I muttered. “But we know something they don’t know. We know of the antidote.”
What good would it do against the sort of weapons used previously? Neither of us dared voice the question, but it was on both our minds. I knew her well enough to know that.
8
Ainsley
I was becoming accustomed to living in my room, or so I told myself.
The presence of a television was helpful, though I’d never watched much of it in my previous life.
My previous life. That was how it seemed. Every passing day put me further away from that time. I had taken everything for granted—my dragon, my security, the happiness I had managed to create for myself. The happiness of knowing who I was and knowing my place in the clan.
What was happening to me? I’d lost my dragon and my nerve at the same time. Perhaps the dragon was my nerve, my courage, my strength. Perhaps I was nothing without her.
I’d taken up quite a bit of binge-watching as a result.
My body cried out for activity. I had once spent hours at a time flying, swimming, running. I used to hunt in the old days, before there was such a thing as radio or any other entertainment. I’d spent most of my life outside; Alan and our parents had teased, claiming I’d forgotten that we were supposed to live in the caves and not outdoors.
There was a fine line to walk. I couldn’t spend all of my waking hours behind a closed door. It was too far out of character. If I wasn’t careful to show my face a few times a day and make idle conversation as I normally would have, I’d attract attention.
The amount of thought which went into my deception was exhausting.
At least Klaus had taken the hint and left me alone. He wasn’t bad, necessarily. Under different circumstances, we might have been friends.
I shook my head, gripping my hairbrush tight enough to hurt, staring into the bathroom mirror as I fixed my hair.
“Enough of that,” I whispered with another shake before resuming my brushing.
I had enough friends, and enough problems. I didn’t need to add more. Thinking of him as a potential friend would only lead to trouble, no matter how decent he seemed.
He’d kept his word, at least, and hadn’t bothered me again after our last encounter. He struck me as the sort who’d regard his word as his bond. A gentleman of the old guard. I couldn’t help wondering how old he really was, how much of the world he’d seen. I most certainly had it all over him when it came to age, but he hadn’t been forced into seclusion the way I had.
Was that why he interested me? It had to be. He had a wider understanding of the world. He’d seen things in person that I’d only seen on a screen. He’d touched them. There were so many questions he might be able to answer. Stories he might be able to tell. I had the feeling we could spend hours talking and never get tired of the other’s company.
“Stop it,” I whispered to myself, slamming the brush against the vanity in frustration. How was it that I kept returning to images of the two of us spending time together? I didn’t want to spend time with him. All he did was annoy me. The one time I’d tried to be friendly, back on the jet, I’d regretted it later.
My hair was a mass of unruliness which seemed even more determined to stick out in all directions than ever before. I didn’t know why I’d wasted the time in trying to tame it, perhaps because I had nothing better to do? If I were by nature a disorderly person, someone who hoarded treasures or refused to pick up after herself, I might have been able to keep myself occupied by cleaning. I needed to put something in order. I needed to feel useful.
As it was, I took pride in keeping clean quarters and had always been somewhat of a minimalist. The way I saw it, t
ime would pass and whatever was in fashion at any given time would someday fall out of fashion, so why make myself a slave to it? Leslie and Isla and some of the other women disagreed with me and had even gotten caught up in popular culture around the time the term had been coined, starting with bringing magazines back from the city all the way to following their favorite stars on social media in modern times.
I began to wonder if they didn’t have the right idea, as I was running out of things to do with myself.
The one thing I wanted more than anything else was my freedom. The freedom to explore the woods without fear. When my dragon was inside me, ready to spring forth at a moment’s notice, I’d been unstoppable. Let any creature, large or small, try to test me and I’d show them how very grave their mistake had been.
I’d never existed without that other presence in the back of my mind, always ready to protect us both. I didn’t know how to navigate life without her.
My hands shook as I dressed, I did what I could to ignore the tremor, reminding myself there was nothing to fear. We were safe again; we were free from any threat, perceived or otherwise. I didn’t need to shift. There was nothing to protect myself from.
Even so, I closed my eyes and listened for any slight whisper. Anything. Just a single shred of hope. Only silence greeted me, as it had for weeks.
I blinked back tears of frustration, certain I was in control of my emotions before emerging from my room. I would need to show my face for a while before going out to take a walk.
Leslie spotted me first. “Where have you been?” Always the sisterly type and more than a little bossy, swinging her hair over one shoulder and fixing me with a shrewd gaze. She missed nothing.
I’d have to be careful.
“I don’t know—around,” I shrugged. “I was going to ask you the same thing. I hadn’t seen you today.”
“We were on a supply run,” she explained. I barely held back a sigh of relief. My gamble had paid off. She couldn’t prove I hadn’t been looking for her.
