“Well, anyway. Think about it. Returning next summer.” He got up.
I nodded. “I will. Even if I don’t come back for camp, I’d like to think I could return for a visit? You are my uncle, like fifty gazillion times removed…”
He chuckled. “Not near that Sadie Cross. Remember, we’re dragons, and we live a spell longer than humans.”
He sent me a parting nod and I watched as he walked away. Was there a stoop to his shoulders that had been missing before?
Nick slid in across from me, his eyes on Franz's retreating back. “I don’t envy him. Not with the council breathing down his neck. They’ve been arguing for like a solid week.”
I smiled sadly. “Yeah. He invited us back, you know. Next year?” I tucked into my breakfast and Nick followed suit. We were both trying to replenish calories lost in everything that had happened.
Nick looked up at me finally. I felt the weight of his brooding stare and my heart tripped before I could stop it. “Not sure that’s a smart move on his part. I’m thinking we’re all rotten luck. I mean, it seems trouble follows us wherever we are.”
I chuckled. He wasn’t wrong.
He continued, “Wanna take a walk along the rim after breakfast. Franz lifted the no fly ban for a few hours this morning. Said we all needed to let off some steam. I won’t be flying, but I thought it would be neat to see everyone else by the light of day reflected against the sun. I’ve only ever seen them at night.”
My heart sped up and a familiar excitement filled me. And fear, there was some of that. I hadn’t forgotten my first change. It Hurt! But I still wondered what it felt like to fly. I hadn’t done that yet. I was still just a fledgling. I stared at Nick and grinned suddenly, feeling a familiar teasing meanness.
“Ah, Seul, you just wanna see me naked.”
He sputtered and choked on his milk. “What? No, I…” then he caught my expression and his eyes darkened.
“I’ll be getting you for that. Promise.” He groaned.
I giggled. It felt good to let go. “Gotta catch me first, Nicholas.” I teased.
His smile returned. “Is that a challenge, Cross?” he asked, a sardonic grin on his dark face.
“Or something.” I agreed.
We got up together and I agreed to meet him out front by the fire pit in ten. I needed to get something from my tent.
#
It was late morning by the time we made the edge of the valley. The sun had burnt off most of the late night dew, but it still sparkled in spots, reflecting the rising sun, sharp in our eyes. We weren’t the first to arrive. Several others had come ahead of us. Even as we made the edge, a black shape farther down fell away from the side of the valley wall and rose, a dark silhouette against the brilliant light that outlined it as the black dragon’s wings spread and it took flight.
Others along the rim were changing at will, the joy in the air contagious as hearts lightened and the immense freedom flying lent them cut loose.
I stood with Nick, suddenly nervous. I’d been desperate and afraid the last time I’d called her up—my dragon. Now I was afraid for a different reason, and it had nothing to do with shifting. I turned to stare at the tall boy by my side. Our relationship had never been what I would call easy. We were both too obstinate and pig-headed for that.
“I’m not like you Nick. We’re different, you and I.” I blurted.
He interrupted my self-deprecatory speech. And I scowled. He didn’t let me finish.
“Shut up. I’m well aware of that. I envy you; you know. I’m a decent enough wizard, I suppose. Dad says that if I keep up, I may be as good as he is someday. But no matter how good I get; I will never know what it’s like to fly. That’s incredible, Sadie. I’m relying on you to come back down and tell me what it’s like.”
I nodded. At a loss for words. It was just the right thing to say.
“One more thing Cross.” He reached out and cupped the back of my head with one firm hand and pulled me in. “I’m not kissing the dragon, so I’d better get this in before you aren’t wholly you.” His lips were soft on mine and a shudder of reaction moved through me, my heart jack hammering in my chest as the kiss deepened for just a moment.
He was wrong. I didn’t need wings to fly.
He stepped back, and I met his light eyes with my own, deep with wonder. I called my dragon, a moan leaving my lips as I stepped back further, tossing him the bag I’d grabbed from the cabin before we left. “Keep that handy Seul, I’m gonna need it.”
A ripple of pain shivered along my spine and I felt the rip and tear of reforming tissues and bone as the change came over me. I took longer than most. I was new to this, but it might have been mere moments before my dragon’s consciousness invaded my own, nudging my human self aside, the predatory ancient edging in. I turned away from the human on the ledge and stared out over the open space of the valley spread before me.
The sky was alive with dragons of every color, shape, and size. I glanced down at my own bronze scales, the reddish hue glittering like a new penny in the bright sun. I moved my legs, muscles rippling, my tail swishing around in a wide arc. Somebody screamed from behind me, avoiding the spiked end. And I would have smiled if my dragon had permitted it. Instead, she spread her wings wide, and I felt them unfurl to their impressive length. A shiver of yearning filled me and the joy bubbled up.
My wings began to move, the wind catching beneath them, and I felt the power in their leathery span. My mouth opened wide, a roar of emotion issuing from deep inside. And then I was falling forward, catching the breeze and harnessing it as air rushed past my nose, whistling through my teeth. My wings moved and pushed me upwards as the world fell away below me.
I was flying…
Book IV~ Dragon’s Blood
CHAPTER ONE
In the human world, crime favored the deepest part of the night, when the moon was a pale sliver in a darkened sky, winking at blackened shadows where evil hid, and waited.
But this was the Magical world, and the rules were different.
The shrouded form hugged the castle’s outer wall, keeping to the shade that blanketed the covered sidewalk in mid-afternoon, when most of the castle slept. His rough grey tunic was nearly invisible, a dull reflection against the faded grey stone.
He looked about as he moved along. The residents were creatures of the night and slept by day under normal circumstances. On silent feet, the figure turned into the main ballroom and crept along the back halls. He descended the long narrow stairs to the floors below with ears attuned to the unlikely possibility that not everyone kept normal hours. It wasn’t impossible that someone might wander the castle grounds during the day. Humans were part of the staff, well paid and appreciated for their hard work and sacrifice to serve their thirsty employers.
Fleetingly, he wondered that if he happened upon one, might he take a bite? But no. He hadn’t partaken of that delight in many centuries. He was far more civilized now.
He rounded the corner and froze, jerking back out of sight as an elderly maid, clean linen stacked in her arms, hustled along the hall past him. She was whispering some tune beneath her breath as she passed within a foot and in easy reach.
His fingers flexed and curled, but he let her go. She was not the target tonight, though he might have found her amusing.
Instead, he moved to the next landing and then continued down to the floor below, descending into the cool recesses of the cellars where the temperature dropped to a balmy 45 degrees. Better to preserve what the cooling lockers held, and what he needed to find.
The lower level was deserted as he had expected. Still, he needed to hurry. The residents would rise in an hour, the employees, human and vampire alike, to prepare the evening meals. He needed to be well gone by then, before they discovered him where he shouldn’t be and asked him questions he wasn’t prepared to answer.
He reached the end of the darkened hall, his eyes easily cutting through the gloom, and the metal door, hung with six inch st
eel plate doors. What this room housed was vital to the survival of the residents of the castle. Still, the handle turned easily in his grasp and the door slid open soundlessly on well-oiled hinges. It was normally locked. But for this small invasion, he had taken steps to ensure it would not be.
Without a word, he slipped inside and closed it behind him. He expelled a breath, the air frosting in a puffy cloud in front of him. Even colder in here. Perfect conditions. He unslung the pack he carried over his shoulder, moving further into the room and placing it on the stainless steel table in front of him. He unzipped the center compartment and unwrapped several capped vials and syringes, eyes already moving to the long row of insulated cabinets arranged around the room and labeled according to blood type.
Had he been an amusing sort of guy, he might have laughed at the thought. Humans compartmentalized their food offerings according to the basic food groups and further by source. They enjoyed steak, chicken and seafood. Vampires did much the same… labeling the bags of donated blood according to blood type. As he picked up a certain vial and the accompanying syringe, his eyes perused the labels on several of the closest cabinets. A-positive, A-negative, AB positive, O-negative… AB-negative. The Red Cross would have been delighted with the abundance of life-giving fluid, all neat and carefully organized.
He opened the nearest cabinet, O-negative, and looked inside. There were at least eleven bags stacked according to date, with the oldest in front making his lips quirk. You didn’t want the fresh produce going bad now, did you? Reaching in, he grabbed the nearest one. He uncapped a syringe and tapped the side to settle any bubbles. A habit more than a necessity. He expertly inserted the thin needle near the top, compressing the plunger and adding no more than .05 milligrams. It would be enough, and the needle’s gauge was so small that it wouldn’t leak enough to be noticeable.
But the results when that cocktail was ingested? He sighed and reached for another bag. The show should be spectacular. He only wished he could be around to witness the entertainment.
He pulled out several more and lined them up on the counter.
Within a matter of minutes, he had injected five out of the eleven bags and then replaced them exactly as he had found them near the front. Closing the door, he moved to the next. There wouldn’t be time to do them all. He planned to do several bags from each cabinet. He liked to think he was spreading the fun.
Twenty minutes later he was finishing the seventh cabinet, closing the door and preparing to move on to the eighth and last.
The scratching scuffle of feet on the stone floor outside the door made him gasp. Scrambling, he grabbed his bag and wedged himself behind one of the farthest cabinets just as the door slid open. His heart sped up when he spotted the vial of toxin that skittered across the floor and came to rest against the table leg. He didn’t dare peek to see who had entered or if they’d noticed. But he could smell the rich sweetness of human blood as the employee approached. Soft footfalls indicated the probability of a woman. A cabinet door opened and rustling of fluid-filled containers inside told him whoever it was had taken out a couple of bags. The employees movements were casual and unhurried. He waited impatiently as whoever it was uncapped a bag and poured a suitable amount into a waiting pitcher. The click of the cap being replaced reached his ears, and the cabinet door as they replaced the bag and closed it. She might have moved faster had she known the danger he presented if discovered.
He gave an enormous sigh of relief when the steel door closed behind her and he was alone once more. He stepped out from behind the refrigerated cabinet, repacking supplies and bending to retrieve the fallen vial and slip it in the bag with the rest. He took special care to make sure he capped the syringes and the vials were sealed. The special cocktail he was using was as deadly to him as it was to them. The rasp of the zipper on the bag as he slid it home sounded especially loud to his sensitive ears. He moved to the door, glancing back with regret at the eighth cabinet, holding what he was sure was a small supply of AB negative—it was exceedingly rare. Few would find its bitterness palatable, and the chances of anyone requesting its vintage for dinner was questionable. Still, he was out of time.
The door slid closed behind him and he moved quickly back down the hall.
People were getting up and moving about the castle as it came to life for the evening. He moved quick from hall to hall and floor to floor, coming out in the main courtyard which was still empty under the bright evening sun. It was a myth that vampire’s burst into flames in the sunlight. But it made the younger ones uncomfortable. He moved over the grounds to the far end of the wall in a blur too quick for the human eye to catch, but visible to another vamp if he encountered one.
Still, luck was on his side. He made it to the furthermost gate in the courtyard. Beyond lay the wastelands that covered much of the unpredictable wilderness of Wyndoor.
He opened the door and froze in surprise. It was hard to say who was more shocked. The shadowy spy, or the young man with his hand outstretched towards the handle on the other side. The boy’s eyes widened in guilty recognition. How convenient. The robed intruder thought back to the unlocked vault. He’d needed inside help to make sure he could get in. The human thief had been easy to manipulate and now had saved him the trouble of locating him later. He didn’t believe in loose ends.
A pale clawed hand reached out and snatched the young man up even as his mouth was opening to scream, the expulsion of air past gasping lips short and final.
The shadow stared at the mess at his feet and frowned in consternation. Well, wonderful. Now what?
Resigned, he bent down and hoisted the dead thief over his shoulder with no more effort than a farmer might a small bag of grain. He was far stronger than any human could dream of. He adjusted his package to a more comfortable position, closed the door behind him, and set off down the path towards home. His eyes were a red slash beneath his hood in the approaching evening shadows as he headed for home.
The boy would be missed, but by the time anyone thought to wonder why, that would be the least of anyone’s worries. The way he saw it, he’d done the human a favor. His death had been quick and painless—and the Juggat Dragons would dine well tonight.
#
Sarah Goodall arranged the drinks in a concentric ring on her platter, stepping towards the wooden counter as Harold, one of the other servers, scooted behind her, his tray laden with hors d’oeuvres destined for the main dining room. She considered the arrangement of goblets and wrinkled her nose in distaste. Several of them held various vintage wines to complement the meals that would follow the appetizers. She was sure they were tasty. Others were a deep burgundy, the floral rose teasing her nostrils with the sweet aroma. But a selection were of the deepest rose, thick and viscous. Blood red. She stepped away from the counter and moved the tray up and out, balancing it perfectly as she moved through the narrow door and into the main dining hall to deliver them to the guests. She knew where and to whom each goblet went.
She’d been working for the patrons of the castle for over a year now. Sarah had no cause to complain. She was well paid for every part of her position, enough to support her family in style. Plastering a pleasant smile on her face, she moved along the expansive table that had to seat at least thirty. She handed out the drinks, carefully checking to make sure everyone received exactly what they ordered. When you were serving a house full of vampires, getting the drink orders exactly right was more than a convenience. Most were polite, and not all of them were vampires. Many, like herself, were human. They were visitors and friends come to pay their respects from various parts of Wyndoor and beyond. Of the vampires that reclined at the table chatting and smiling, only a select few had opted to partake of a blood cocktail. She had been informed early in her employment that vampires did not need to feed daily but could go more than a week without discomfort or need of the life-sustaining fluid that provided the nourishment they required. Still, they enjoyed a good meal much like their human counterparts, and t
he table groaned beneath the weight of dishes that graced it. Apparently, living for hundreds of years was good for the family coffers. They had spared no expense in providing for their family and guests.
Sarah was down to the last two goblets when she caught the edge of a chair and stumbled. A cry fell from her lips as the tray tipped, the last two goblets teetering on the edge of going over. She let out a squeak of alarm even as a firm hand flashed out of nowhere to grab the tray as she caught her balance. She looked into steely blue eyes. “There now, are we good?” the deep voice asked politely. Her eyes widened on the dark-haired vampire. Ab’et he was called, and he always made her nervous. He was not one to smile often, though he’d never been less than kind towards her.
“I’m fine, thanks. I tripped on the leg of the chair. How clumsy…”
His lips tipped the slightest. “Nonsense, could happen to any of us. You’d better get along then, hadn’t you? Finish your deliveries. There was no harm done.”
She nodded, falling a little further into those blue eyes. She shook her head and forced herself to stand, snatch the tray back, and straighten. She frowned and handed him a glass of light amber wine. The last goblet on the tray she handed off to the young lady on Ab’et’s right. She took it gratefully, the slightest tinge of red ringing the outsides of her light green irises.
Sarah watched in barely concealed revulsion as she immediately took a long drink from her glass, pulling it away at last and leaving behind a faint pink mustache which she delicately dabbed at with her napkin. She smiled and nodded in Sarah’s direction, and Sarah dipped her own head and turned away, her stomach flipping.
Sarah returned to the kitchen with her empty tray, thinking of how the vampire families kept the blood supply coffers full. Many of the human servants that worked alongside her made donations at least once a month to replace the supply. They were well compensated for their service and there was no shortage of those willing to help.
Rule 9 Academy Series Boxset: Books 3-5 Young Adult Paranormal Fantasy (Rule 9 Academy Box Sets (3 Book Series) 2) Page 25
