Stones of Dracontias

by N. D. Jones

  Dr. Westmore, lean and fit and a man Rudolph wouldn’t trust to write him a prescription no less operate on him, damn near salivated as he shared his thoughts.

  “The gold dragon healed children dying from cancer. It didn’t fly to any hospital to do it either. It went to hospitals with cancer centers. That shows thought, deliberateness, and purpose. Not random acts of healing, gentlemen. These monsters know precisely what they’re doing.” He slapped his palms on the table. “That’s why we’re here.”

  The men at the table nodded. Greed bloomed in their eyes.

  “We’ll have our dragon,” Cafferty assured the group. “Once we do, we’ll learn their secrets and steal their power. It’s only a matter of time.”

  “No.”

  “Please, Father, it’s been two months.”

  Kya walked beside her father through the Eshe Forest. With their golden scales, the dragons contrasted with the browns and greens of the forest. Gasira and Ledisi, however, who trailed behind them, blended almost to the point of camouflage.

  “They tried to capture you.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “If your sister hadn’t destroyed the helicopters, they would’ve succeeded.”

  “I know.”

  “You almost drowned.”

  The giant golden dragon that was the Aragonite Star Dragon second and Kya’s father first, stopped. At half her father’s height and less than that his weight, she had to stare up to meet his eyes, a swirl of brown and red.

  Her siblings halted as well, serving in the role of silent bodyguard, although nothing more dangerous than them called Buto home. Three-fourths the size of the United States, countless species of birds and insects lived on Buto along with a large population of deer, hippopotamus, wildebeest and elephants, which the dragons bred for food.

  After the attack on Kya, her father had summoned every dragon home. For a month afterward, her siblings had searched for the origin of the helicopters. They’d had little evidence to guide their investigation. By the time they’d returned to the location in the Pacific Ocean where the helicopters had crashed, the men and the wreckage were gone.

  Ever since, Kya has been banned from leaving the island.

  A long neck caressed hers, a soothing back and forth that had Kya shifting toward the protective girth of her father.

  “I won’t allow the humans to have you. You’re small, my Kya, even for a dragon of your age. Some humans, like the ones who attacked you and your sister, will think their technology superior and a small dragon easy prey.”

  Whiskers from a mouth pressed to her flank tickled. Her father used his forked tongue to determine the strength of her scales. His long, wide tongue ran from head to tail to legs before he repeated the movement on her other side.

  “You’re the Bloodstone Dragon. You’re the prey of no human. With each passing century, humans develop more and greater weapons of war. As such, we must adapt. If your scales were less durable, their bullets would’ve done considerable damage.”

  They’d done damage enough. A furious and worried Ledisi had pulled Kya from the water and carried her home. Their mother, the Bluestone Dragon, had used the magic of her Lapis Lazuli stone to revive and heal Kya. When she slept, Kya dreamed of helicopters, nets, and scale-piercing bullets.

  “You will train more, my Bloodstone Dragon. Make your scales impenetrable and your fire magic unstoppable. We may not prey on humans, and I may believe in healing the worthy among them, but that does not mean I will permit them to threaten my family.”

  The Aragonite Star Dragon stood to his full height of thirty feet, his length double that size, and looked over Kya’s head and toward her oldest siblings.

  Gasira and Ledisi snapped to attention without their father having to say a word.

  “Small does not mean weak. I never want the Bloodstone Dragon to fear for her life because her elders have failed to prepare her for the world of humans. Train her better.” His eyes, once more, fell to her. “When you’re ready, I’ll permit you to return to the land of humans and your diata. Until then, listen to Ledisi and Gasira.”

  Upon waking, Kya had confessed all. She hadn’t liked lying to her parents any more than Ledisi had. There was no shame in befriending a human, although her father did not approve of her doing so while in dragon form. She’d assured them Armstrong Knight was an honorable man who would keep her secret.

  Unless her father wanted to kill Armstrong to guarantee his silence, he had little choice but to accept Kya’s judgment of the human.

  Once she began her training and made noticeable progress, her father granted Kya a boon.

  Flying high above Buto and beyond the protective mists of magic, Kya reached for and found Armstrong’s mind.

  I hope while I’ve been away that you haven’t shocked any other female with your naked form.

  Tension flooded her at the thought that her sudden reintroduction into his life, after months, would be unwelcomed.

  If you’re willing, diata, I can teach you how to speak to me telepathically. The magic involved requires absolute trust from the both of us.

  A month. That’s how long it took Armstrong Knight to master their dragon-human telepathic link.

  It took Kya, however, much longer to make her “scales impenetrable” and her “fire magic unstoppable.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ALL HE WANTED to do was make a quick deposit, scarf down a lunch of burger and fries, and then go home and get ready for work. Was that too much for a man to expect the day before Thanksgiving? A quiet, normal Wednesday? Armstrong guessed it was because three idiots who must’ve wanted to spend the next ten years in a federal pen pulled pump-action shotguns from their long leather coats.

  Man, could these losers get any more cliché? He guessed they could because the men wore honest-to-goodness stockings over their faces. Squinted eyes, squished noses and mouths, if the men weren’t cursing and waving their guns around and scaring the shit out of the tellers and customers, Armstrong would’ve laughed out loud. They looked that ridiculous.

  But the situation and the danger everyone was in, including himself, was no laughing matter. The assholes may have been stupid because really, who in the hell robbed a bank nowadays, but they were about the greedy and deadly business of getting what they wanted.

  Money.

  Armstrong hoped the bank police officer, red-faced from anger and a bleeding nose he’d received when the tallest of the bank robbers sucker punched and disarmed him with embarrassing ease, wouldn’t do something stupid and get himself shot. The man, who looked to be retirement age, probably thought a security detail at a bank an easy money gig. He didn’t doubt it had been until the three clichés strolled in, shotguns out and demanding money.

  “Get the hell on the floor.”

  Armstrong, who was second in line, followed the six other customers to the floor. Off-duty, he wasn’t armed. Good thing he wasn’t. If he were, he’d have an even larger dilemma. As it was, the reckless side of him wanted to take the men on. Fortunately, the trained Secret Service agent was in control, which had him planting his face to the floor and doing nothing.

  “Put it all in the bag. Come on, we don’t have all day. Hurry the hell up.”

  Only one of the men spoke, barking orders at the tellers while one served as lookout and the other was in the back with the bank manager.

  “I said hurry up.”

  Armstrong chanced a glance upward. Twisting his head to the side, he could see the tall man, dressed in all black and leather coat like his partners, pace from one teller to the next. Two women and one man, Armstrong recalled when he waited in line. He held his gun at his side, the barrel pointing upward. It wouldn’t take but a second for the bank robber, in a fit of anger or fright, to lower the weapon and shoot one of the tellers.

  Turning his head a little more, Armstrong saw the black booted feet of the second man. He stood near the glass doors to the bank. Broad daylight. This brain trust had thought it a good idea
to rob a bank in the middle of the day.

  “Come on,” the guy by the door yelled. “We can’t be in here all goddamn day. Sooner or later someone else is going to want to come in. What am I going to do then?”

  “All right, man. Damn. You heard him, hurry your asses up.”

  “Here. This is everything from the drawers.”

  He recognized the voice of the male teller. Armstrong hadn’t liked the way the man had watched him when he’d entered the small neighborhood bank, as if he would, well, stick up the joint. He’d hoped, when it was his turn in line, the guy would have to wait on him. His money was as green as everyone else’s and the color of a person’s skin didn’t determine their morality.

  The teller’s voice had trembled, but he’d spoken loud and clear. The unspoken message in his voice was just as clear: you got what you wanted, now get the hell out of my bank. He hoped the tall robber hadn’t detected the same.

  “Gotta little attitude, do you? Think you better than me?”

  “Ah, no. But you got what you came for.”

  “So we can leave, huh? Is that what you trying to say?”

  “You got the money. That’s it. That’s all I’m saying.”

  “Leave it. We don’t have time for him. He’s right, we got the money. Let’s go.”

  Armstrong wished the tall man would take the lookout’s advice.

  Pop.

  Shit. What the hell?

  A child about five, who’d been quiet as his mother held him close, screamed and began to cry.

  At the sound of gunfire, the security guard jumped to his feet.

  No.

  Pop. Thud.

  Dammit.

  More screaming, the tellers and customers.

  The third man came running from the back, winded and talking fast.

  “The fucker tripped the silent alarm. We gotta go. Now!”

  “What about the safe deposit boxes?”

  “In here.” He jiggled a black bookbag at the tall robber, who hadn’t moved from his spot in front of the tellers. “Let’s go before the cops arrive.”

  “Gotta finish this.”

  Armstrong didn’t like the sound of that. The male teller had been right. Why couldn’t these assholes just take the money and leave?

  He couldn’t tell where the guard had been shot and he heard nothing from the vic in the back. If he had to guess, the bank manager was dead.

  “There are too many witnesses. We can take care of them before the cops get here. No witnesses mean no one left alive to talk.”

  Even if he had his weapon, no way would Armstrong be able to take down three armed men before he got himself shot and killed.

  “No, please,” the mother behind him pleaded. “We don’t know anything. We didn’t see your faces. Please. Please.”

  All around him strangers cried and begged for their lives.

  A third pop rang out, and Armstrong closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. He knew who’d been shot and by whom. He may not have liked the condescending teller, but the man didn’t deserve to die.

  “We’re even. One apiece. Now let’s deal with the rest of them.”

  The sound of guns being reloaded competed against the wild pounding of his heart and the rush of adrenalin.

  Fight or flight.

  Armstrong would fight.

  He stood, and the three men turned to face him. Backs to the glass doors, the murdering bastards laughed when they saw him.

  Armstrong planted his six-one, two-hundred-pound body of muscle between the mother and her child. None of them would survive this. But he wouldn’t die on his stomach like a coward. His father had fought when his cancer had come out of remission. He hadn’t gone down quietly and neither would Armstrong.

  “Women and a child. It’s just us men and these women and a scared kid.” He raised his hands, letting them see he held no weapon. “Come on. No one else has to die today. You hold all the cards here. Got all the power.” He spoke to the tall man, who still looked ridiculous in his stocking. If any of the three were in charge, it was him.

  “Playing hero?”

  He chuckled. “I’m no hero. I’m just a guy who wanted a burger and fries and didn’t have a dollar to his name, so I stopped in here to cash my check.” Armstrong pointed over his shoulder to the whimpering mother and son. “He’s just a boy. If nothing else, let the kid go.”

  The lookout, a stout guy with dark-brown hair and a mangy beard, tugged on the tall man’s sleeve. “Cops are coming. Leave it. We need to go.”

  The tall man couldn’t leave it. He’d had plenty of opportunities to take the loot and flee the crime scene. His problem, which was also Armstrong’s problem, was the man was more killer than bank robber.

  He saw it now. Nothing he could say would talk the man down. His bluish-green eyes sparked with murderous intent.

  The man raised his shotgun. Pointed it at Armstrong.

  “This is what happens when you try to play hero.”

  For the rest of his days, Armstrong would remember what happened next because it shocked the hell out of him one minute and had him falling in love the next.

  Get down, diata.

  He ducked.

  A metallic gold dragon’s tail crashed through the glass doors, swiped in a short arc and lopped off three heads in a grisly smooth motion. Blood sprayed, heads flew, and bodies thumped to the floor.

  “How is it you manage to find trouble wherever you go? Six months and I find you in yet another fight.”

  “In fairness, my actions both times were in defense of someone else.”

  Armstrong pushed to his feet and helped up the woman and her little boy.

  “Are the police out there with you?”

  He could hear sirens.

  “They will be soon. I will take my leave.”

  Armstrong led the woman around the dead men and blood. She held her son in her arms, his legs wrapped around her waist and her hand pressing his head to her shoulder, whispering for him to keep his eyes closed.

  The child didn’t need to see the gruesome sight of three decapitated bodies. It was bad enough he’d have this awful memory that would likely replay in his nightmares.

  It could’ve been worse, for them all. Armstrong was thankful Kya had the worst and best sense of timing. The dragon was a full day early for their date, but she was right on time to save his life and the life of everyone else in the bank.

  My hero. I think I’m in love.

  For six months, they’d done nothing but talk and get to know each other through their telepathic link. Most days he’d forget it was a dragon on the other end of the conversation. Armstrong had even created a human image of Kya in his mind, which made him feel less creepy for the feelings he was developing. But the fake human Kya in his mind didn’t change the reality of their unorthodox relationship.

  Exiting the building, the street flooding with DCPD, Armstrong could just make out Kya’s gold dragon form in the chilly November sky. A dragon. He’d needed to see her to remind himself of what she truly was. If he ever forgot again, he had to only remember her reptilian tail severing the heads of the bank robbers. One clean slice. That was all it had taken.

  She’d told him about the strength of her scales. When he’d felt how soft they were, Armstrong thought the dragon had exaggerated. He now knew differently.

  “Tomorrow at midnight, Kya. Be on time.”

  “I’m the Bloodstone Dragon. I go where I please when I please.”

  Armstrong handed over the mother and child to one of the officers before digging in his coat pocket and pulling out his wallet and Secret Service special agent badge.

  “Correct me if I’m wrong, but your father grounded you for more than six months. Literally.”

  “Admit you missed me, and I may forget the insult to my Dracontias pride.”

  He had missed her, which said a lot about his lack of a social life.

  “Special Agent Knight,” one of the officers said, “I need to take your
statement.”

  Armstrong’s eyes were still on the sky, although he could no longer see Kya.

  “Of course. I’m coming.”

  The woman nodded and walked a few feet away and to another officer. Red-and-blue lights added light to the overcast day, but nothing could brighten the ugliness of the last half hour. The ordeal showed on the dazed face of each customer and employee who emerged from the bank.

  “I’m glad you’re back. And you know I missed you. Did you miss me?”

  By the time Kya answered him, Armstrong had given his statement, checked on the mother and her son, and then gone home. He’d missed lunch and was late for work. He had a good excuse and one hell of a story to tell.

  “What was there to miss, diata? Your blinding flashlight? Your purple drink? Your mockery and tiny inquisitive fingers?”

  He laughed, and two agents, stationed at the White House gate with him, stared at Armstrong as if he were drunk.

  “I’ll take that to mean you missed me.”

  “I didn’t miss you, Armstrong Knight.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  “No, I did not.”

  He waited. Twenty minutes later, his patience paid off.

  “Fine. I missed you.”

  Armstrong grinned like a fool in love and couldn’t care less about the looks the other agents shot him. Or the utter absurdity of nursing tender feelings for a dragon incapable of meeting his human needs.

  Friendship was all that could ever exist between Armstrong and Kya. His mind understood. But he was having a hard time convincing his heart.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  SHE SHOULD FLY home. The past two years, Kya had spent much time in the land of humans. Specifically, she’d spent too much time in Washington, DC and with Armstrong Knight. So much time, in fact, her father had assigned her the North American region. Ledisi no longer flew with her to the United States, although they often met on the return flight home. Her sister, now that Kya had taken over the responsibility of North America, could resume her duties in South America.