by Aaron Crash
He couldn’t get his wings out and went sliding down the stained redwood. Patio furniture careened along with him, and one chair got entangled in his arm. He’d fight in his Homo Draconis form and give them a smaller target.
At the bottom were a dozen bears. Wait, not just bears, humanish things, eight feet tall and armored. Kevlar and steel plates covered them in interlocking sections, pliable, allowing for maximum movement while not sacrificing protection. The werebears stood on strong legs. Some had big, hairy human hands. Others had thick, curling black claws several inches long. A few with human hands clutched assault rifles, while others held glowing swords, enchanted to cut through dragon flesh, without a doubt.
Behind them were two serpentine figures. They must’ve been Dragonskins since Liam and Sabina had scried the area and hadn’t found any Dragonsouls. Their divination magic worked. When he cast the spell, it was Pornhub, page two.
Those with guns opened fire. Steven breathed out an inferno. The bullets struck the fire and melted in the heat. His flames reached farther to fry the fur off the bear Morphlings, but a shield spell caught the conflagration. Those Skins had cast defensive spells.
“Magica Incanto!” Steven shouted. The skill set attached to that brand of magic could imbue items with magical energy, but it could also dispel magic.
The shields winked off.
Steven hit the dirt. He hurled the chair off his arm, and it slammed into a long-snouted bear face. When the other Morphlings came forward, he exhaled lightning. No shields to protect them, he blasted the arm off one and sheared the head off another. Then he was up, slashing with Samael’s Lash. He drove it into the chest of one bear, slicing through its armor. The steel plates might protect against other more normal attacks, but for Samael’s Lash, they might as well have been tinfoil.
Blood splashed him and sizzled off his scales. Even better? Animus from the three kills gave him a burst of extra fuel. “Magica Defensio!” he called out, followed quickly by “Magica Impetim!” His black throwing stars killed two more of the Morphlings.
“The spells,” one of the Dragonskins wheezed, “he casts them so effortlessly!”
Steven found grim satisfaction in their fear.
His shield spell would protect him from melee attacks but nothing magical. One of the Dragonskins hurled javelins of purple light at him. The magic exploded into the deck around him, and one burned into his thigh.
The other Dragonskin cast a shield spell, and it smacked into Steven, threatening to crush him against the slanting wood. These guys were learning to get creative with their shields. Good for them.
But he was used to sparring with Tessa, who was the real expert.
Turning human, he was small enough he could slip under the force field. He parried a spear thrust with Samael’s Lash and smashed a snout with the pommel before shifting back into his Homo Draconis form.
With a flick of his tail he bashed in a bear skull. He hacked off an arm with Samael’s Lash, following it up with another Inferno Exhalant. Two more of the Morphlings screamed as they went up in flames. Steven felt their mystical energy fill him, which was good. He needed all the Animus he could get.
Only three werebears were left, along with the two Dragonskins. He brushed the Morphlings back with his shield spell, giving himself some room. The ground was a mix of mud, snow, and blood, and he used the claws on his feet to avoid slipping in the muck.
Howls came from behind him. Two dozen wolves raced around the house, galloping toward him, three feet tall at the shoulder and at least eight feet long. More Morphlings. Incoming.
“Steven!” Voices from above. “We can’t get out of the house. Shield spells!”
Damn, this had been a trap all along. Most likely, a second assassination attempt on his life. Since Aria, Mouse, and Skylar couldn’t cast dispel magic, they were trapped in the house.
“Magica Incanto!” one of the Skins shouted. Steven’s shield vanished.
One of the last remaining werebears with human hands wielded two scimitars, and he knew how to use them. They whirled around him in a flash of green light and silvered steel. Steven felt one of the blades cut through the scales on his arm. Damn. He was more angry than hurt.
The other two werebears stormed in. These ones had claws, glowing green.
He had to take out the Dragonskins. Then his Escort could join him in the fight.
Going True Form would be painful due to the towering pines around him. And why give those incoming werewolves more surface area to bite?
He triggered ShadowStrength, pulling muscle power from the Morphling with the scimitars. The werebear let out a gasp and went to his knees.
The two other werebears shambled forward to claw him to shreds. Instead he went human, ducked under them, and then hit himself with SerpentGrace. Once free, he transformed back into his partial form, growing several feet and widening with muscles and scales. Changing size had definite benefits. Just ask Ant-Man.
He drove his sword into the back of one of the werebears, then ripped the sword free. He whirled it around to split the other bear’s skull in half, down to its breastbone.
The wolves were almost on him.
Steven hurled Samael’s Lash near the mine entrance below.
Then, it was IonClaws time. He ignited his talons, sweeping away gloom. Not even the shadows under the pines remained. He took a swipe at the scimitar-wielding Morphling, but the werebear managed to roll backward, avoiding Steven’s blinding claws.
Oh well. Steven sped past him.
“I don’t believe it!” one of the Dragonskins whispered. It would be the last thing he said. Steven tore his head off with a swipe of his supernaturally sharp talons.
The other Dragonskin leapt on him, a last attempt to kill him, but it was in vain. Steven rammed the IonClaws on his right hand through the chest of the Skin. He cut through his ribs easily and destroyed his heart immediately. Then he tossed the body away.
Still gifted with SerpentGrace, Steven sped around to the mine entrance. It angled down into darkness, a hole in the world. He had to turn most of his body human to get inside the entrance of the shaft, but he was able to keep both arms scaled, talons gleaming.
The werewolves circled the shack and approached him. They weren’t growling or snarling but creeping cautiously toward him.
They’d have to come at him one at a time. He’d leveled the playing field, and those beasts knew it. Some of the wolves turned into towering bears, other became boars, while still others transformed themselves into huge black panthers.
Steven lifted his glowing hands tipped with talons as bright as the sun. “I would go back to your fucking master and tell him you failed. Or die. I really don’t care what you choose, because I’m walking out of here alive.” He grinned. “Well, I’ll probably fly, but you get my point.”
The Morphlings exchanged uneasy glances.
Too late for them to change their minds. Three dragons came flying out of the sky, blasting the ground with fire, lightning, and cold far more bitter than the snow covering the ground. Aria, Mouse, and Skylar were free.
The Morphlings scattered.
Steven grinned and let the IonClaws ability lapse. He was drained of Animus. Keeping those claws glowing sure was expensive. He stopped and grabbed Samael’s Lash from where he’d thrown it. Then he turned back around.
There was a light down the mine shaft. He heard a soft sigh, a long beat, and then weeping. Unmistakably, it was a woman crying.
Or was it a trap?
NINE
Wings tucked in tight, tail sliding through the dirt, Steven followed the light down the mine shaft. The air was cool, not cold exactly, and smelled musty. The wounds on his thigh and arm were stiffening but not bleeding. He was a tad low on Animus, so he figured he would wait to heal himself.
Gripping the sword, he didn’t wait for his Escort. They could easily handle the Morphlings. He just hoped they would capture one so they could interrogate them to find out who they were
working for.
The weeping grew louder. The light wasn’t coming from the end of the tunnel but from a spot where a chunk of the wall was missing. The mineshaft continued to descend. Steven stopped at the crack. A rope was coiled on the floor.
He glanced through the hole in the wall, making sure nothing would spring out to get him. It didn’t feel like a trap, but then that’s probably what his assassins wanted him to think. He thought to call out and stopped himself.
The wall had crumbled, revealing a room that probably should’ve been in Egypt or somewhere in the Middle East. Sculptures littered the floor and friezes marked the walls. He saw dragon script, engravings of dragons, and trees, not unlike the pines outside. In the shadows of the trees? Faces. Claws. Teeth.
He thought of what Rahaab had called the Zothoric. Shadows of teeth and talon. He’d seen similar images on the tapestries in the antechamber of the Mont-Saint-Michel library.
Then he noticed the empty pool in the floor. That was where the light was. Nothing else seemed to be in the room.
Okay, this was a trap. And Tessa wasn’t around to make either a video game reference or to quote from an Indiana Jones movie.
He shifted human, sat down, and then calmed his heart and focused on his breathing. He crossed his legs and spent a few minutes regaining Animus. It was a slow process, but Liam Strider was right. There were ways to get the energy other than sex and violence, though the former was fun, and the latter filled him up faster than anything.
He didn’t need much. Refueled, he healed himself, then cast a shield spell inside the strange room with all the statuary. That pool. It was very similar to the pools that had been inside the Lookout Mountain Aerie. The edges were similar. This one was dry, though.
Interesting.
His shadowy shield swept through the room, sliding along the walls, and hovered over the light in the pool.
The weeping had stopped.
Then a soft voice asked, “Is anyone there? Can someone help me?”
Damn, this felt like a trap. He wasn’t going to give away his position. He’d go in hot, sword ready, and he had his shield. The first kill would give him a dose of Animus, and then whoever attacked him would be in real trouble.
Yet why was there a rope coiled on the floor? Did someone lower this woman down and then leave her? Maybe to keep her there while they went after Steven. That was also very plausible. Well, he was about to find out.
He drew the shield up to the missing chunk of wall. As a Homo Draconis, he slid onto the force field and then lowered it down. Once the shield hit the floor, Steven rolled forward to the edge the pool, sprang to his feet, and held Samael’s Lash ready.
At the bottom of the pool was a high-powered flashlight.
A bear peered at him, half-hidden by a statue of a dragon man in a tunic. There were three of the Homo Draconi statues around the empty pool. Three brothers? Maybe Rahaab, Mathaal, and Icharaam? No, they hadn’t exactly been fans of humans or Dragonsouls. The three Americos brothers? Could be.
But he couldn’t spend a bunch of time down there. Not with his Escort wondering where he was and this grizzly bear looking at him.
Then he noticed the color of her fur, a golden-brown color. And those eyes. Blue-green. He recalled the third vison he’d had during their game of Divination Tag. This wasn’t a bear. No, this was a Morphling who’d been lowered into the room and then abandoned.
He shifted into his human form, keeping his sword and shadowy force field ready in case he was wrong. “See, I’m a shifter too. I’m Steven Drokharis.” He was naked, but he didn’t care.
She backed away, huffing, snuffling, making hurt noises.
Steven had to circumnavigate the pool to approach her, but eventually she backed into a corner, near where fiendish faces peered out from under the friezes of pine trees.
“I know you can shift,” Steven said. “I heard you crying as a woman.”
The bear rose onto her hind legs. She was nine feet tall and a couple thousand pounds. She wasn’t armored, though, and in seconds, she shifted into a naked woman, still big, over six feet tall. She had thick, muscled thighs and thick hips. Perfectly defined abdominal muscles rose from the golden tangle of her pubic hair. Her breasts were small, with hard, thick nipples. She was rock solid in some places, nice and pliant in others.
And she was young, probably a couple of years younger than him by the look of her.
But Steven wasn’t drawn to her because of her body. No, those blue-green eyes, so fragile, so full of fear, made him want to be gentle with her.
“I’m Zoey. Are you going to kill me?” she asked. A tear dribbled down her right cheek.
“No,” Steven said. “Not unless you try and kill me first. Were you with the Morphlings that tried to assassinate me?”
She nodded. Then shook her head. Then nodded.
“Don’t kill me,” she said in a voice that kinda broke Steven’s heart.
“I won’t.” No, in his vision, she would get hurt in a battle, but he would protect her. He had no other information, but he knew that.
“Promise?” Another tear slid down her face.
“Promise.” He reached out a hand.
She tore across the room, knocked his arm away, and latched onto him. She was a little taller than him, and she buried her face into the crook of his neck. Her skin felt good against his, her little breasts pressed up against his chest. He found himself with his hands on her hips. But this didn’t feel sexual, despite their nudity. This felt more nurturing.
In seconds, she was sobbing, and he held her through the storms. He’d figured he’d have to fight his way out of the room. But here he was, holding a naked Morphling who was crying like she’d lost her best friend. And maybe she had.
What was going on? How was she connected to the Morphlings?
“Steven!” Skylar called down into the room. “Are you there?”
The strange werebear stopped her sobs. She stood against him, stock-still.
“It’s okay,” Steven soothed her. “It’s my friends. We’ll get you out of here. And then you can tell us your story. I’d like for you to hear mine.”
Zoey didn’t say anything, not then and not when Skylar and Aria climbed down the rope to check out the mysterious room. Zoey moved behind him but kept near to him.
Mouse was at the mine entrance, keeping watch.
They searched the room, but there wasn’t anything there except the statues, the flashlight, and Zoey. On the ceiling, however, Steven saw something that made him wonder. Above him, in Dragonsoul script, were the words:
This Eye Is Closed.
He thought of what he’d seen in the third volume:
Not yet time. Wait for the next torch. Then you will open one eye.
Could the pool be an eye? Or a portal? With the images of the Zothoric, he wasn’t sure he wanted to mess with anything in the room, not yet. It wasn’t the right time to fight the demons. The Dragonsouls were still warring among each other. The attempt on his life was proof of that.
Zoey was shivering, and he wanted to make sure she didn’t catch a cold.
They could always come back, since Steven owned the Aerie and the ground above. Had Cassius Pine built the house over the mysterious underground room? It seemed likely.
Steven definitely wanted the rest of his Escort to see the underground room. Tessa would research the hell out of the art, and he wondered what Sabina and Liam would see when they cast their Magica Divinatio spells.
Steven didn’t have the Animus to try, and he wasn’t very confident of what he’d see. Most likely it would give him a lurid vision of his time with Michaela Montes or Abby Free.
When they emerged from the mine, Mouse whirled around as a dragon girl. She growled, “Who’s the giant piece of jailbait?”
“Zoey,” Steven said. “Go easy on her, Mouse.”
Snowflakes twirled out of the sky. Mouse approached her, then shifted human. She took Zoey’s hand and looked into her eyes. “
It’s okay, Zoey. I’m sorry. I can be mean, but really, I’m nice. And I promise I’ll be nice to you.”
Steven wondered what was going on. Had Mouse tripped and hit her head? She didn’t seem wounded. More bodies littered the ground. All had turned human. They would have to do some quick cleanup, since dozens of bodies would draw human attention.
Mouse tried to pull Zoey away from Steven, but the Morphling refused to go. The werebear clung harder to Steven.
Mouse became even more gentle. “Okay, Zoey, you can stay with Steven. He’s also really nice.”
Aria began to collect the bodies, with Skylar helping. Steven saw something on the chest of one of the Dragonskins he’d shredded with his IonClaws.
“Hold up.” He crunched through the snow, and Zoey came with him. He was in his Homo Draconis form, but her feet had to be freezing. She neither complained nor said a word. He would have to take her inside soon or she’d be risking frostbite.
Each of the men had a tattoo on his chest. One had been completely ruined, totally illegible. Sticking your arm through a chest cavity would do that. The other, though, had the top half of the circle still there. There was a five-pointed star in the middle. A dash, dot, dash was on the left side with the word “Republi.” Dots circled the star. It looked like some kind of seal.
He thought of the “C” and “OF” he’d seen. “Republic Of.” What did that mean? He didn’t know, but now he had more to go on.
He picked Zoey up—thank you, DragonStrength—and carried her into the house. Mouse followed. In the bedrooms on the ground level, she found a loose dress for herself and the werebear. They then ascended the stairs to the master bedroom. The king-sized bed dominated the room even though the dressers were huge. On the outside wall was a large fireplace to the right of the bed. Windows lined the northern wall, showing the snow falling on Grand Lake.
Steven found a pair of jeans that fit but went shirtless. The fewer of Cassius Pine’s clothes he wore, the better. He lit a fire while Mouse sat with the Morphling. Even though Zoey didn’t bolt to be with him, her blue-green eyes never left him.