by Aaron Crash
The man transformed into his Homo Draconis form and kept right on going, surging up and out, his bulky gray-green body quickly filling the penthouse. He lunged forward, huge maw snapping closed around Steven’s thigh, wicked teeth sinking down. With a jerk of his massive head, Edgar pulled Steven from his feet, dragging him from the posh apartment and flinging him through the shattered window and into the frigid Denver air.
The sickly Dragonskin launched himself from the penthouse, wings outstretched, eyes locked on Steven as he fell.
The wind whistled in Steven’s ears and slapped at his face as he tumbled down, down, down. He used his waning Animus to change into his True Form—though the pain of his ruined leg made it damned hard to focus. Still, that pain was nothing compared to what he would feel if he hit the asphalt far below. He got one wing up. But then Edgar was all over him like stink on shit, claws slashing, teeth biting; it was like the rotting Dragonskin didn’t care if they plunged to their death. Then again, Edgar wasn’t wounded. He might survive. Steven wouldn’t.
Steven got his hind talons up, and he raked them down Edgar’s chest, leaving deep gashes in scale and flesh. He used the leverage to launch himself away from the Dragonskin. Steven’s back slammed into a building, but his bony spines caught steel, stone, and concrete, slowing his fall. With a grunt and a growl, he hurled himself away from the skyscraper, extending his wings as much as he could. They caught a draft and lifted him up.
He soared away, rising, pumping his wings for greater lift.
Edgar wasn’t done yet, however. The Dragonskin snaked through the air, hot on Steven’s heels. Both leveled off in front of the penthouse window. Until Edgar smacked into him. Again, Steven felt the bite of the Dragonskin’s fangs. Right on his neck. Those teeth pierced his scales, and fresh blood oozed down.
Steven beat his wings, furiously trying to stay aloft and get away. Again and again, he slashed into Edgar with his claws, but the villain wouldn’t relent.
A gunshot echoed through Denver’s manmade canyons. Edgar roared in pain. He released Steven from the death grip and whirled. Tessa stood on the wrecked remains of the windows. She held enchanted Colt Peacekeepers in both hands. She thumbed back the triggers and shot him again.
Aria, still human, armed with the Slayer Blade, fought the female Dragonsoul across the penthouse. The pair danced, back and forth, Aria slashing with the magic sword, and the female Homo Draconis attacking with her claws and tail. Mouse lashed the sword out of Aria’s hand, and it went swinging to the edge of the penthouse. The Slayer Blade came to rest near Tessa.
Edgar flew toward the barista, snarling, spitting, and growling.
Steven wheeled around and leapt onto his scaly back. He circled an arm around Edgar’s serpentine throat, clutching the writhing, rotting body to his chest before chomping down on Edgar’s neck. A foul taste filled his mouth, but he didn’t relent.
Edgar laughed. “Oh, this is so much fun! This is so badass! I’m fighting a fucking dragon as a dragon! And all above those stupid humans. They don’t know about us. But they will. They will!”
Steven couldn’t let that happen. He had to end Edgar, but he felt his strength waning. He was close to losing consciousness. And even if he kept his wits, he couldn’t keep up his True Form for much longer. His very cells were screaming in violent protest. This is too much! Please stop! But he wouldn’t stop, not until Edgar was dead and he was victorious.
Through the gaping holes where the windows had been, he saw Aria backhand the female Dragonsoul across the face, stunning her, then drive a foot into the slender Homo Draconis’s belly, throwing her back like a ragdoll. Pretty damned impressive considering Aria weighed a buck ten at most in her human form. Mouse shifted back to human as she sailed through the wrecked penthouse, landing, unconscious, in a heap of limbs.
Still, Steven wondered why Aria wasn’t transforming into a tougher body, either Homo Draconis or her True Form. He didn’t know, but he was fairly sure she couldn’t help him with the insane Dragonskin.
Edgar, screaming, swept toward the penthouse. He was reaching out his thick green claws to rip Tessa to shreds. The Peacekeepers’ hammers clicked down on spent shells. Tessa was out of bullets.
Steven had one arm around Edgar’s throat. With the other, he shredded the wing under him. Edgar broke off his lunge, then worked his one remaining wing, sending them smashing into the side of the building, taking out another collection of windows. Glass shattered and rained down toward the street below. In the same instant, Steven felt his scales change to skin, his arms shrinking, his legs returning to normal. He started to slip from the Dragonskin’s back, but managed to grab a spine at the last second.
But he was weak. Tired. His body filled with agony.
Unencumbered, Edgar got his wings working, despite the damage Steven had dished out. The crazed Dragonskin careened crazily toward the penthouse—a kamikaze pilot on his final run. Going that fast, filled with such rage, if he hit the building, he might kill everyone inside.
He had to be stopped before he reached the Aerie.
And that’s when Tessa raised the Slayer Blade. She’d picked it up now that her pistols were empty. She stepped back, scrunched her face up in iron determination, and took a running jump out of the penthouse, a war cry crashing from her mouth. She hung in the air for a full two seconds, before smacking into Edgar’s side and driving the sword deep into his chest—though she missed his heart by a solid foot.
Edgar roared in fury and pain. The stink of his rotten flesh intensified, coming off him in a palpable wave. Steven scrambled up his spines to get to the Dragonskin’s shoulder. His wings were still beating, keeping the monster airborne. Steven glanced down to see Tessa clutching the sword, which was buried to the hilt in Edgar’s scaly abdomen. It wasn’t going to be enough to slay the beast, and Steven knew if he didn’t do something right then, both he and Tessa would die.
End of story.
He had to regain his True Form. He had to push himself to the very edge of his capabilities.
Steven closed his eyes, pictured the skill tree, and remembered the ink tableau of Stefan Drokharis and his wife giving Joe Whipp a baby bundled away in blankets. More memories flooded in: Diving in front of the bullet to save Tessa. Aria’s first kiss. Tessa, on the road, eating a Donette. Aria giving Steven sidelong looks, as if evaluating him. Finding himself in the middle of the universe, floating between galaxies, at the heart of all existence.
Reaching for that power, he triggered his True Form.
And this time, no matter how hard the transformation, he was going to force himself to change. And change he did. He felt his soul lurch. Stagger. Tear. Too much. The effort would kill him. But not before he killed Edgar Vale.
The minute Steven felt his wings spread, the minute he had fangs, he ripped into Edgar’s throat like a starved bear. Noxious blood filled his mouth and splattered his chest. Animus flowed into Steven, filling him, keeping him from careening over the edge of death, healing his damaged body a bit, but not much. No, in order to really heal, Vale needed to die. And by Steven’s hand. The gray-green dragon thrashed and flailed, wriggling to free himself from Steven’s jaws, but it was a useless endeavor.
He held fast, leeching off Animus and strength.
Edgar’s thrashing slowed, his wings beating spastically. Finally, he howled, and that mighty call went from a dragon’s thunder to a human’s shrieking. Steven felt the body beneath him shudder and shrink, but instead of easing up, he bit down deeper, tearing Edgar’s head from his shoulders, then flicking it away in disgust. The man tasted of spoiled meat. The head flipped, once, twice, and Steven caught sight of Edgar’s face: eyes glazed, shock etched into his skin. No, it’s not supposed to happen this way, that look said. I’m the underdog, the king.
And then the head flipped again.
Steven still held Edgar’s body, his wings now keeping them aloft, and good thing since Tessa was clinging to Edgar’s wrist, her feet dangling over the street
far below. But Steven was so tired, so weak. He beat his wings, struggling to stay in the air, knowing that it was only a matter of seconds before his strength failed for good and he reverted to human form. They’d never make it back to the penthouse. Tessa gritted her teeth and pulled herself up to Steven, climbing onto his arm.
He promptly dropped Edgar and angled toward the busted window. He failed. Ten feet away, his Animus reserve faltered, and he felt himself changing back into a frail, wingless human. In a flash, they plummeted through the frigid night toward their deaths.
Face to face, he gazed into Tessa’s eyes. “I can’t ... I can’t ...”
“I can,” Tessa said. “I got this.” She closed her eyes in concentration. She let go of him and brought her arms up between them. She circled her fingers and thumb.
They hurled down toward the unforgiving pavement below.
And then she called out, “Magica Defensio!”
A pink shimmering sphere appeared around them like a giant soap bubble. Steven had little faith. Sure, the bubble might stop a sword blade or even a bullet, but with how fast they were going? The orb of energy around them would strike the street, and they’d be crushed inside.
Tessa shot him a knowing wink as though she could read his thoughts, and waved her hands down. And the pink shield elongated into a long, smooth slide. Suddenly, Steven found himself cruising down at a steep angle, Tessa curled up against his side.
The ride was breakneck fast at first, but the slide leveled out the closer to the street they got, until it eventually ran parallel to the ground. Steven and Tessa shot off the end of the pink energy field and went rolling across the pavement, bouncing, ripping off layers of skin, until they came to a stop twenty feet away.
Steven opened his eyes. Every inch of him was in pain. But he was alive. And nothing seemed broken. He crawled over to Tessa, who was gasping. Her clothes looked like they’d gone through a paper shredder, and she had gash on her forehead, oozing blood. In the corner of his eye, he caught sight of what remained of Edgar: a pulpy pile of red meat. The Slayer Blade lay next to him. Considering that was the alternative, Steven thought they’d done okay after all.
He pulled himself up next to Tessa and collapsed onto his side. She lay on her back. When he touched her, she turned to him. “Shit went sideways,” she offered with a tired grin. “I fixed it.”
Steven laughed. “Yeah, you did.”
Her eyes went back to the penthouse above. “It looks normal, I don’t see any damage. But I know it’s not. Aria must be using hiding magic.” Regardless of the concealment spells in place, police sirens erupted, sending lights and noise through the downtown area. It was clear that someone had reported something, probably the bloody splotch surrounding Edgar Vale’s jellied body on Seventeenth Avenue.
Tessa helped Steven stand and retrieved the Slayer Blade. Together, they limped toward the lobby, bruised, bloody, and battered but alive. Victorious.
“Where are we going?” Steven asked. His head was fuzzy from the pain and exertion.
Tessa smiled. “I have to get my purse. I left it up in the penthouse.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
STEVEN AND TESSA WALKED into the lobby of the Wells Fargo building to find the security guard sitting at his desk, his eyes glazed over. Another guard stood-stock still near the polished metal desk. Both seemed to be in some kind of trance. More concealment magic at work, no doubt. But was it from Aria or Mouse? Which one was still alive?
Steven was having trouble keeping his eyes open. That last transformation had taken everything out of him. Only the Animus from killing Edgar had kept him alive.
Tessa propped Steven up against the wall, went to the guard sitting behind the desk, and pulled off his uniform trousers. Then she fished keys out of his pocket. Returning to Steven, she helped him slip into the polyester pants.
In the elevator, they found a slot in the shape of an X. Finding that key was easy, and like Bud had said, a secret panel popped open. A button in the shape of a dragon was there. Resting the Slayer Blade against a wall, Tessa thumbed the button and the elevator shot upward.
Steven collapsed to the floor. Tessa knelt. “Steven, it’s okay. We’ll get Aria, and then we’ll get you to a hospital.”
That made sense. He’d taken two bullets, and he wasn’t sure if those magic rounds were still in him. “Tessa, you can’t do shit like you did,” he mumbled in a daze. “You can’t jump out of buildings.”
She tsked him. “I can. I did. I wasn’t completely sure I could manipulate my shields like that, but I watched this derpy cartoon growing up. Spider-Man and His Amazing Friends. Iceman was always using his cold powers to break his fall.”
“Not derpy,” Steven replied. “It saved our life.”
Tessa laughed. “And my mom said that all the TV would rot my brain.”
“You’re amazing,” he said.
“Right back at you.”
When the elevator dinged open, they found Bud lying against the wall. He looked dead ... totally dead. He was lying in a pile of pizza slices and cast-off boxes. The mercenaries had beaten him into a pulp. But in the end, they’d met their end. Steven felt a flare of remorse, but then Bud twitched—just an arm, but enough to proclaim that he was alive. He twitched again, this time his leg, then pushed himself up with a groan.
“Did you get ’em?” Bud asked, glancing at Steven through swollen eyes.
Steven nodded. “Yeah. But you look like I feel.”
“Even beat to shit, I look awesome,” Bud said, smiling. Yeah, he was missing a fair number of teeth. “So you must feel awesome. You don’t look it, though.”
“And I might still have to fight,” Steven said. “We’ll be right back.”
Bud sighed and flopped back down. “Sounds good, I’ll just be right here, trying not to die. Probably won’t ever be able to eat pizza again, so there’s that.”
As they walked away, Bud called after them, “You look killer with that sword, Tessa. For real.”
“I know,” she said simply, cocking an eyebrow.
Through the big doors, they found Aria standing over the female Dragonsoul, who was human again and bleeding freely. Both were dressed in ripped gowns. Aria, still in handcuffs, scratched the female’s throat with one of the magic swords. Tessa and Steven crunched over the debris on the floor, but Aria didn’t take her eyes off their enemy. “Did you take care of Edgar?”
“We both did,” Tessa said. “I stabbed him, and Steven bit his head off.”
“Good,” Aria said, the word cold as the heart of winter.
An awkward silence fell across the room. Kai Charon was nowhere to be seen. Steven had the idea the Warling had fled the battle, obviously having lost the fight.
“So, what now?” Steven asked.
“Take me with you!” Mouse said, stealing a frightful look at him. “Take me into your Escort. Please. Mulk will punish me. Please.”
“Quiet, Mouse,” Aria warned, pressing in just a little harder with the sword tip.
Steven approached the two women. A smashed clock on the floor showed it was 6:45 p.m.
“Is Mouse your real name?” Steven asked.
She gave him a weary look. “What do you think, genius?” Then her eyes flashed in fear realizing what she’d said and how she’d said it. “No, my lord, it’s not. I was born Melissa Craygore, daughter of the Rocky Mountains Prime, but that was before the new Dragonsoul Prime took over.”
“So how did you get the name Mouse?” Steven reached out a hand, batting the sword aside then helping her to her feet.
Aria stepped back. “Steven, we can’t—”
Mouse interrupted her. “I was always really small, and the rest is the result of a lack of imagination. On everyone’s part, I guess. I could’ve stopped it. But I was never very necessary. Mulk married me when I was important to his Primacy, and then when my father was killed, I stopped being anyone or anything. Mouse is probably a good name for me.”
It hurt to
hear her talk about herself that way. Her eyes were clear, and yet Steven felt like she wanted to cry but couldn’t. Those soft parts of her had hardened into a shell. And he smelled alcohol oozing out of her pores along with her almond Dragonsoul scent.
Aria stepped forward and gripped Steven’s arm. “We can’t take her with us. She is part of Mulk’s Escort. It would be the ultimate insult. He would come for you with every single one of his vassals. We wouldn’t stand a chance.” Aria winced when she swallowed. Clearly, her throat was bothering her.
“Please,” Mouse pleaded. “Mulk is awful to me. I can’t help but love him, but I also hate him. I hate him so much.”
Steven listened to her, hearing her pain, but he kept his eyes on Aria.
She was trembling, hurt, and slightly scorched from the battle and from the Exhalant attack she’d unleashed while in human form. The handcuffs must’ve had magic to keep her from changing.
Steven couldn’t help himself. He took her in his arms, felt her slim, muscled body against his, and kissed her long and hard. Holding Aria felt so right. She had started him on his journey and he was so glad they’d saved her.
Aria still had her eyes closed when Steven pulled back.
“I can kiss you like that,” Mouse said, her words slurring slightly.
“No, not yet,” Steven said. “I think you need to sober up, and then we’ll see. But yes, we will take you with us.”
Aria’s eyes flashed open, full of fury. “Steven, no, you don’t know what you are doing.”
“He killed my parents,” Steven said. “I want to hurt him. And if he comes for me, I’ll kill him. It’s pretty clear he’s done a number on Mouse.” He turned to her. “Why haven’t you left on your own?”
She dropped her eyes to a ring on her left hand. “I can’t.” She glanced at Aria. “She knows why.” Mouse retreated to a smashed desk drawer, took out a small key chain, and unlocked the handcuffs. They fell from Aria’s wrists.
Aria nodded. “When you join a Dragonsoul’s Escort, it’s for life. Only another Dragonsoul male can free you. There is powerful magic involved. In the end, you might not be able to free her.”