Reborn

by D. Fischer

  *****

  The scent of rain is in the air, but thankfully, it is still holding off. Tember carries most of the groceries, her request, while we walk side by side down the sidewalk.

  Tall, old buildings reach toward the night sky, and if you watch them too long, they look to be swaying in the breeze. Maybe they are. Maybe nothing is stable in this realm, perhaps all the realms.

  A chilly breeze runs up my back and I pull my coat tighter around me. The plastic bags full of food crackle with the extra movement, bouncing against my sides.

  I look at Tember, frowning at her apparel. “Aren’t you cold?”

  “Angels don’t feel—” she begins.

  I roll my eyes. “Pain.” So she keeps reminding me. What I would give to not feel pain. “Do you feel, like . . . pleasure?”

  She nods under poncho hood. “Yes.”

  The words pop out my mouth before my mind can filter them. “So, angels have sex then?”

  She laughs. My cheeks flush a bright pink and I look away. “Yes. We enjoy pleasurable experiences just as much as humans do.”

  I don’t bother nodding. Having already embarrassed myself to the point of being tongue-tied, I figure it’s best to keep my mouth shut at this point.

  Our feet echo against the pavement as we walk in tune with each other. It’s late and the city is sleeping, so when her voice pops into my head, my steps falter.

  You’re being followed.

  I slow my pace while trying to use my peripheral vision to view the potential threat. I don’t see anything which causes slight fear to puddle in my stomach. Eyeing an alley just ahead, I fumble with my grocery bags between my fingers.

  “What’s wrong?” Tember asks, noticing my nervous fidgeting.

  Another bout of rain begins as I turn into the alley, ducking under the bright yellow caution tape. Down the street, I hear the downpour as it pounds against each surface it comes in contact with.

  Judging by the yellow caution tape, it looks like there was a crime scene here at one point. How ironic that there may be another.

  “In here,” I whisper, switching the bags to one hand and holding up the tape. Tember ducks and steps into the alley with me, doubt thinning her lips.

  “What’s going on, Kat?” she whispers, glancing down the alley.

  “We’re being followed.” I peek around the side of the brick building.

  “How do you know?”

  I glance back at her, flattening my back against the wall while glaring. Always so much doubt. My coat snags on a few sharp pieces of brick, but I ignore it. “She told me.”

  Tember searches my eyes, her jaw clenching. “She speaks to you?”

  I’m cut off mid-nod when several figures drop from the roof down the way. Their red eyes tell me enough—vampires.

  Not wasting a moment, my face begins to distort, and my eyes glow an orange hue, slightly illuminating the open space in front of me.

  Tember cocks her head while looking at me before her face relaxes and slowly swivels to the figures behind her. She shifts her body to face them before gently setting the bags on the ground. I follow her lead, placing my groceries next to hers.

  “What’s the plan?” she asks.

  I open my mouth to answer, but another voice replaces it, coming from within. “There is no plan,” Myla says.

  I’m gently eased back inside my mind while she takes over my body, my movements, my speech. It’s unsettling, frightening. Yet, that damn curiosity I have cocks its head, waiting to see what happens next. I was fully prepared to do what I could to erase this threat, but at the same time, I want to know if the beast is controllable. It has to be, right? So far, Myla’s spirit—Myla’s dragon—has done nothing to harm me. Maybe this is her way of keeping me safe?

  Tember tenses at my voice’s change in pitch, but doesn’t turn around. “Hello, Myla,” she says with casual ease.

  It’s like I’m watching a movie. I have no control over my actions. Unlike the time in the woods, I’m still in my body. The rate of this progression and her demanding control over my body is terrifying. More so than the stalking walking dead.

  My hand is lifted, a ball of flames circling in my palm. Myla watches it and I feel a grin spread across my face.

  What are you doing? I ask her, a nervous tick in my tone.

  Myla answers aloud, “Kheelan knows. They’re here for me. For you. I won’t let them take us.”

  Tember shifts slightly, her ear more centered, listening to what Myla said. “Myla, you need to give her body back,” she mumbles.

  Hovering my other hand above the ball of flame, Myla doesn’t answer. Instead, she lifts my top hand, and as she does so, the ball changes from baseball to basketball size. Tendrils of flame continue to swirl in a sphere, a few try to escape, licking the air before they fizzle out. It crackles like sparklers, and the larger it grows, the louder it gets.

  Myla blows on the ball with a gentle breeze. The ball flies from my hand, much faster than it should, and hits the first advancing vampire. He combusts into flames, his screams echoing off the brick wall before a pile of ash is all that’s left.

  Resolved to the fact that Myla won’t allow me the control, Tember runs forward and skids to her knees, meeting the rest head on. She holds out her hand and a black bow appears in her grasp. It’s extremely large in size and looks to be just as heavy, but she holds it with ease.

  Tember aims the bow and an arrow, crackling with electricity, appears just before she releases the string. The arrow sails, whistling while it cuts through the wind and rain, before turning more into a lightning bolt than wooden arrow. It buries itself in the chest of the vampire with a thud, lighting him up like a firework.

  I wait impatiently inside my body, hoping Myla does something soon. If I were to guess, I’d say she never saw an angel in action. Well, that makes two of us. It’s fascinating to watch, but unfortunately, we don’t have the luxury to.

  The vampires continue to close in on us, the majority more interested in me than the arrow-welding angel on the ground picking them off one by one. There’s no way one witch can take on this many vampires, even the First Born.

  A smile spreads across my cheeks, pulling the distorted skin around my eyes. “Don’t be afraid,” Myla mumbles. I’m not sure if she’s talking to me or if she’s talking to herself. The silent debate I have over her statement quickly disappears as I feel Myla begin to change my body.

  I grow, at least twenty feet taller, and as I do, my bones crack in the most excruciating way. Everything grows smaller, or so it seems. My skin itches like I’m being bitten by a thousand tiny ants, and internally, I scream. I feel the same sensations I did that day in the woods—the heat, the blossoming of pain inside my skull . . . everything.

  As the pain begins to subside, large muscles ripple and quiver around every bone. I’m standing on all fours, puffs of smoke leaving my long muzzle. My tail swings, hitting the wall and a few crumbles of brick fall to the ground.

  A little knocked off kilter, I swing my long neck to the side, viewing my tail before shifting it back to the threat. I’m in control over my body, over the dragon. Myla has retreated inside, a smug reaction coming from her emotions. Did she do this to prove a point?

  I double blink, disoriented. My vision is sharper, I can see every black vein, in frightening detail, crawling across the vampires’ skin.

  They’ve paused their advance, and for the first time in my life, due to me, I see fear on the vampires’ face. Adrenaline pumps through this dragon form and I marvel in it. I feel invincible, indestructible. It should be a terrifying feeling, but I can’t help but delightfully bask in it.

  I shake my head and snort, feeling the fins of spikes wave against my spine, and each muscle’s power underneath my scales. It brings me back to the memory and my earlier fear of Myla’s dragon. I will fear this creature no more. This is who I am. This is what I am. This dragon is mine.

  Myla laughs inside my head, enjoying the show and my
thoughts.

  Tember still plucks away at them, but I can see her eyes constantly shifting back and forth between my dragon form and the threat. They’ve forgotten about her, no longer seeing her as the target, which makes it easier for her to pick them off. But I don’t plan to let her take all the glory.

  I step my front claw forward, the nails scraping against the concrete, and draw in a large breath. My ribs expand and heat builds inside my chest. The feeling is glorious, unlike any other—it’s power and comfort all in one, yet almost too hot, too scorching, before I’m forced to blow it out. As it leaves my throat, passes my rows of sharp teeth, plumes of smoke go with it, temporarily clouding my vision. The flames leave my muzzle like a torch and it almost sounds like one, too.

  The fire hit the first vampire, engulfing him, before I lower my head and shift it from side to side. One by one, the vampires ignite, each taking turns littering the cement with piles of ash. My adrenaline kicks up a notch, victory now what fuels it.

  I take in the scene, anxious for more, as a crack of thunder vibrates against my scales. The street is lit by the remaining vampires who still hold on, screeching inhuman wails and flailing their arms engulfed in flames. The last one dusts and my roar of victory matches that of the storm.

  As the last of my roar comes to an end, I snort and stomp my foot. Tiny pebbles quiver against the ground and the piles of ash flatten themselves against the force of my weight. My head swings over to Tember, who still aims her bow. She looks frozen, terrified, but her eyes hold wonder as she looks back at me.

  She lowers the bow and hesitates for a moment, before taking a step forward. “Kat?” she whispers.

  I drop my head closer to the ground as she takes baby steps in my direction. Two feet from me, she glances at her bow before it disappears from her hand the same way it had appeared. Using the same hand, she reaches forward, her fingers twitching in the air.

  A snort leaves my throat, fanning her hair as it travels through my nostrils. For goodness sake, I’m not a rabid beast. I mentally giggle at that. Wasn’t I just the one who was thinking the opposite.

  I shove my muzzle into her outstretched hand, proving my point, and causing her to jump slightly. After a moment, she smiles and runs it against my black scales. It’s at this moment that I understand why cats like to have their heads scratched. As her fingers trail over the scales, it’s the most delicious relief to the itch I never knew I had.

  Sirens wail in the distance and our heads snap to attention, my fins of spikes flatting against my scales.

  “Do you know how to change back?” Tember asks, desperation in her voice.

  Most likely someone heard the racket we were making. I don’t know how they’ll explain the piles of ash, but the downpour should continue to carry them away.

  I think for a moment until I realize I don’t know how to change back. Myla has always been the one to do initiate it.

  All you must do is ask, my daughter, she replies. Her voice is so loving, it throws me. Is it possible that now I’ve accepted her being here, that she’s accepted me in return?

  Her magic pulses through me, like a second heartbeat, before the bones begin to shrivel, crack, reshape, until finally, I’m settled on my own two feet . . . naked.

  The transformation will hurt less and less over time, she whispers.

  She’s right. This time it was only a dull ache as I returned to human form. However, all the adrenaline my dragon half had dissipated with it. My earlier anxiety returns, my bravado gone. What I’d give to keep a little of that extra ‘fire’ inside me at all times. Maybe then I wouldn’t hesitate with actions in the future.

  The sirens grow closer as I cover my bits, my fingers fumbling to hide the modest portions of myself.

  “Do you have any extra clothes?” Tember asks, her tone edgy.

  Anxiety comes through my voice, controlling my words as I snap, “Do I look like I brought an extra set of clothes? Does it look like I had plans of turning into a fire-breathing dragon?” I bounce on my toes, trying to warm myself. “Shit! What do we do now?”

  Tember’s eyes narrow as she stares at me. The words seem forced, like she doesn’t want to say them. “The portal.”

  “I need some form of evaporation,” I growl, my teeth beginning to chatter.

  She glances around before her eyes relax with glee. I follow her line of vision to the street, where a drain is built into the curb. Steam roles out of it, before disappearing into the cold rain.

  I shake my head in quick motions. “No. No, absolutely not. I’m naked! I can’t just walk into the street like this.” I stomp my foot like a child. “What if someone sees?”

  She lifts an eyebrow. “Would you rather tell the authorities what you’re doing in an alley, naked, with several bags of groceries and piles of vampire ash?”

  My eyebrows dip and a sneer crosses my lips. Mumbling under my breath, I step over to the edge of the wall and peek both ways. Seeing no living person, cars, or walkers, I duck under the tape and tiptoe to the street drain. I hesitate for a moment before uncovering my breasts, mumbling curses under my breath.

  Holding my hands over the drain, I capture the steam, just as I did in the shop, and form flames with it by blowing inside my cupped hands. I let the ball hover in my palms, carefully cradling it like a flighty butterfly before I tiptoe back to Tember with haste.

  A pebble already between her fingers, she glances at me before dropping it inside the ball. I blow, and it transforms just like before. As the portal grows, a swirling circle of red and orange misting flames, she grabs the drenched groceries from the ground.

  “Ready?” she asks. Her posture is confident, mine less so. I’ve never done this before.

  My voice cracks after I swallow my fear. “How?”

  She looks at the portal and steps forward. “Think of the place you want to go, and step through.”

  I step forward to meet her and grab the edge of her elbow. The sirens echo just down the road. We take hurried steps, passing inside the portal, while I picture my apartment living room.

  CHAPTER NINE

  AIDEN VANDER

  THE TWEEN

  “Where am I?” I ask. I’ve never been here before. A place like this doesn’t exist.

  Jane tilts her head, her eyes flicking to the side of my face. “The Tween.”

  The side of my lips tilts up in mockery. “The Tween?”

  “Yes.” She hesitates. “It’s the voided area between the Earth Realm,” she pauses, turning her head and mumbling her next words, “and the Death Realm.”

  My head whips to hers. “No Heaven or Hell?”

  She shakes her head, her hair waving and fanning the area with the scent of roses. “No, dear.”

  I glance around, my jaw flexing once at such a drastic change to my previous existence. I’ve never been good with changes. Maybe that’s why I stuck with the same routine as a human, even though I loathed it.

  The Tween looks just like Earth, except swirls of fog and mist float about, licking the moss-covered, gnarled tree trunks of the forest we stand in. There’s no earthy smells here, no sounds of life. Birds should be singing, flapping their wings as they bounce from tree to tree. Squirrels should be collecting nuts at the base of every trunk before cursing us in their native tongue. Bugs should be buzzing about their busy tasks.

  But they’re not. They don’t exist here. This isn’t a place for beating hearts.

  Jane takes a deep breath and gives a shake of her head, forcing a smile. She takes a step forward. “Ready?” My mind flashes back to those same words she said in the alley. I can almost hear the sirens again.

  I nod, unsure but willing. Where else am I going to go? I clear my throat unnecessarily. “How was I able to dream about you . . . about where I would . . .” I flex my jaw, “die?”

  Fallen branches pass through our skin—it’s pointless to avoid them by lifting our feet. She tilts her head, considering her next words carefully, as she continues walking in fr
ont of me. “I’m a shade—you’re a shade. The Earth Realm and the Death Realm are mixing, making it possible to cross over.”

  I frown. “Mixing? How?”

  “No one knows,” she mumbles, etched with warm concern. “It’s never happened before.”

  I’m just about to question her again when she stops, searching the open space available between the trees, her head swiveling this way and that.

  “What are we waiting for?” I ask, my voice rumbling as I glance around and see nothing but a lifeless forest.

  She doesn’t answer. As we wait, I shift my weightless body uncomfortably. Her head snaps to the side and I follow her line of vision.

  Two figures off in the distance walk with unhurried steps. A slow smile spreads across Jane’s face as they get closer.

  A brown-haired man, lanky but muscular, is ahead of the another. A wide, goofy, lopsided smile shows straight, pearly-white teeth. His hair is cropped short and he’s transparent—a shade, just like me. Bruises around his neck and wrists are visible, providing me with evidence of his death. What a death that must have been, to die with a noose around your neck.

  I glance at my sweatshirt. The blood is gone, the hole the knife made no longer visible to the naked eye. I touch the surface of the cloth, feeling jagged skin underneath where the knife had entered my heart, ending my life.

  I look behind him. A woman shuffles along, her steps tentative, unsure, and her eyes are on mine as she pulls at her invisible fingers. She’s older—about the age of Jane. No evidence of her death can be seen.

  With any luck, this woman died in her sleep. That was the way I wanted to leave that world. No one should be put through the knowledge that a single breath could be their last.

  “Dyson,” Jane says, the name a warm embrace by itself, like the first time she said mine.

  “Jane.” He nods, his smile still on his face.