by Ann Gimpel
Konstantin added a touch of a don’t-look-here spell because he wanted these moments—before they noticed him and Katya—to study them.
“Do you think this is the bottom?” the woman asked. Her voice was low and melodic, but a catch in it betrayed her nervousness.
“Yes. Or we would still be falling.” The man let go of what looked like a death grip on the woman. He wore thick, black winter clothing. Clearly a lot of layers from how bulky his garments were. His hood was thrown back displaying longish black hair, a gaunt face with a square chin and high forehead, and shrewd, blue eyes. Black stubble dotted his cheeks. Konstantin felt certain not much got past those eyes.
The woman groaned and shook out her arms once she’d let go of the man. Dressed similarly to him, her hair was as fair as his was dark. It vanished down her back inside her clothing, so it was impossible to tell how long it was. Her eyes were a clear, pale blue and her facial features matched her Norse coloring with high cheekbones and a well-formed chin.
Both of the humans wore clunky green boots that were probably constructed of dual or triple layers of neoprene.
Next to him, Katya stiffened. Konstantin didn’t understand what it was about two puny humans that would frighten her, but she was definitely uncomfortable. He decided to push things along, so he brushed his spell aside and stepped forward. “Welcome. This is not how I envisioned meeting you, but—”
Both the man and woman squawked and twisted to face him. “Who are you?” the man demanded.
“You’re naked,” the woman yelped. “How is that even possible?”
Konstantin eyed them, keeping his temper in check. He’d expected gratitude, relief, or at a minimum, mumbled thanks. “Have manners fallen out of fashion among your kind? This is my house. How I clothe myself is my choice. Your job is to introduce yourself. Once I hear your names, I shall decide if I wish to offer mine.”
The man growled something unintelligible.
The woman inclined her head, and said, “I’ve got this.” She took a step toward him and Katya and pushed her shoulders back, facing them squarely. “My name is Erin Ryan. My companion is Johan Petris. We were part of an Antarctic research project. My task was assessing the effect of extreme cold on the human body.”
“You said were,” Katya commented. “Not are.”
The man, Johan, moved to Erin’s side. “Physiology was Erin—Dr. Ryan’s—job. The rest of us were mapping precious metal deposits. Mapping, not mining.”
“The Russians took matters into their own hands,” Erin said, “and decided to cash in on our efforts since we’d already done the spade work.”
Johan nodded. “You can guess the rest. They boarded our boat, killed the dissenters immediately, and stuffed the rest of us in what used to be our chromium dig site just up there.” He pointed.
“How is it the two of you survived?” Konstantin asked.
“They knocked me over the head and assumed the blow would kill me,” Erin replied. “It damn near did.”
“They broke my leg,” Johan said. “Erin patched me up, but somehow, the bone fixed itself in record time.”
“The other reason we didn’t die of exposure is we were both suited up for winter.” Erin patted the chest of her thick black outer garment. She narrowed her eyes. “It’s warm in here, but not that warm. How can you get by without clothes?”
“I ask the questions,” Konstantin said firmly.
“We answered yours,” Johan pointed out.
“You will be offered information in due time,” Konstantin muttered. His dragon was kicking up chaos. Muffling fire that wanted out singed his throat and mouth.
“Drop the sparring match.” Erin’s words tangled with the tail end of his comment. “Can either of you help us get out of here?”
“We could, but such is not our intention,” Konstantin replied. Before they could react, he added, “I am Konstantin. This is Katya, my twin sister.”
Despite offering his name, just as the man had requested, it didn’t appear to mollify him. “Do you plan to hold us against our will?” Johan asked in a deceptively smooth voice.
“Harsh words,” Katya murmured.
“Forcing us to remain where we do not want to be is also harsh,” Erin said. She unzipped her suit a few inches and drew her hair out from beneath it. One long braid hit her at ass level. After blowing out a breath, she spread her hands in front of her. “Look. We’ve been through hell. God knows what happened to the Darya, and—”
“What’s that?” Katya asked.
“Sorry. Our ship,” Erin replied. “Our best bet would be to go to the Polish research station, but it’s a little way from here on King George Island in the South Shetlands.”
“Why that one?” Konstantin asked.
“It’s manned year round, and we have friends there,” Johan answered.
It annoyed Konstantin. He’d asked the woman, not Johan. Yet rebuking him a second time for a lack of manners would scarcely endear him to the man.
He scanned their visitors with what he hoped was a subtle shot of magic. Both of them were nervous, the woman more than the man, yet she didn’t allow her trepidation to bleed through. Good for her.
“What would this Polish base do for you?” he pressed, still seeking information about how their world worked.
“Several things,” Erin replied. “First, they would alert the authorities about our ship. Our research firm probably knows it’s missing by now, and they will do whatever is required to get it back.”
“Beyond that, our friends will see we have transport home,” Johan added.
“So this ship, it is not your permanent residence?” Katya raised a copper brow.
“Oh my goodness no.” Erin smiled. It lit her face, made her eyes glow a deeper blue, and dropped a decade off the worry that had stamped itself into her features. “I’m a doctor, actually a surgeon. I live outside Seattle.”
“Is this a holiday for you?” Konstantin asked, still not quite understanding how she’d ended up in the Southern Ocean.
“Kind of. I was sick of a whole lot of things, and so I took a leave of absence. My practice partners were great—for once. I’ll return to my office and my other life after I’m home.”
“And you?” Katya turned her burnished gaze on Johan.
He did a doubletake, nearly stumbling. “Your eyes. They are gold. What are you? Human eyes do not come in that shade.”
“I told you, I ask the questions,” Konstantin cut in. He masked a smile. No one had noticed his eyes, but Johan was interested enough in Katya to be observant. It might bode well.
“Fine,” Johan snarled and turned to Erin. “Do not say another word until we figure this out.”
“I’m not sure it’s the best way to proceed—” she began, but he chopped a hand in front of her face.
“They are dredging for information. I have no idea why or what they will do with whatever we tell them. If you look from this angle”—he tilted his head—“their bodies are glowing.”
“It has to be a trick of the light,” Erin murmured.
“I do not believe so. They are naked, yet not shivering. Both of them have golden eyes with green centers. Have you ever seen a human with—?”
Erin flapped her hands his way. “Stop. Fine. So they’re not human. They’re out best bet—our only bet—of getting out of here.”
Konstantin considered lauding her for common sense, but it might be better to keep his mouth shut. Where would these two humans go next? Clearly bright and resourceful, they would probably try to bargain with him—except they had nothing he wanted that didn’t include their continued presence.
Erin crossed her arms beneath her breasts and regarded him and Katya. “Us being here isn’t accidental, is it?”
“Yes and no,” Katya replied.
“You couldn’t have anticipated our presence at the chromium dig site,” Erin went on, “but once you realized we were there, you decided to shanghai us. Am I close?”
&nbs
p; “What does shanghai mean?” Katya asked.
“Kidnap.” Johan bit off the word. “It is when—”
“I know that word.” Katya cut him off, looking hurt by his assumption she was stupid simply because she lacked a single word in English. His sister spoke hundreds of languages. Konstantin bet the human man only knew a handful.
“Let’s not get sidetracked,” Erin spoke up. “Since you sensed us, or however you figured out we were up there, you’ve been pulling puppet strings.”
The implication rankled enough, Konstantin’s next words lurched past the protection of his throat. “You overreach. I have been occupied killing the men who shanghaied you from your boat. The Darya, wasn’t it?” He stressed the word shanghaied to pound home the point he understood its meaning.
Erin’s eyes rounded, but she held her ground. “The dead Russian up there”—she jabbed an index finger at the ceiling—“was your doing? How the hell could you murder him if you weren’t in the upper cavern?”
“I told you.” Johan smirked. “These two, they are not human. God knows what they can do.” He staged half a bow. “Thank you for killing however many you did away with. Those men were a scourge. Death was too good for them.”
“And that is one place you and I are in agreement,” Konstantin said and rocked back on the balls of his feet. His dragon was delighted by the compliment, and a bit of smoke escaped through his nose.
Johan nudged Erin and jerked his chin toward the smoke spiraling above Konstantin’s head. She shrugged and muttered, “I already told you, I don’t give a shit what they are.”
“What happens next?” Johan asked unfastening parts of his winter clothing, presumably because he was hot.
“You will remain with us,” Katya said.
“Get to know us,” Konstantin added.
“While we appreciate the honor of you wanting our company,” Erin said, “we respectfully decline.”
Johan shot her a side-eyed look that clearly said he disagreed with her approach. He set his mouth in a tight line. “If we are your prisoners, we have certain rights.”
“You are our guests.” Katya added a calming spell to her words.
“Bullshit.” Johan looked as approachable as a cornered hyena. “Guests are free to come and go as they please.”
“You will show respect toward my sister.” Konstantin strode close to Johan.
“It’s not a good idea to antagonize them,” Erin told Johan.
“Groveling is not doing us much good, either,” he shot back.
“I wasn’t groveling. I was making a good faith effort to be polite.”
“Yes, well, regardless, it did not work. We are still their prisoners”—he stressed the word, breaking it into syllables—“and as such we are entitled to—”
“You are entitled to nothing,” Konstantin roared. He was sick of riding herd on his dragon. Fire spewed from his mouth. “You are fortunate to be alive. I”—he turned the full force of his hypnotic gaze on them and amped up the juice—“killed several of your problems. Have you thanked me?”
“Yes. I did,” Johan reminded him. “What can you do besides produce fire?”
“Who cares?” Erin screeched at him. “Fuck your scientific objectivity. We have to get out of here. Before they turn us into dinner—or whatever they had in mind when they dragged us here.”
Konstantin’s dragon pushed hard against their bond. He wanted to show the woman his glory. Prove to her she was wrong, that dragons did not eat humans—unless the human in question was unworthy and the only food source available.
Katya joined him, staring at the humans with blood in her eyes. “We saved your pathetic lives. Perhaps some time alone will improve your attitude. Come, Brother.” She hooked a hand beneath his arm.
He shook her off. He was all for putting some space between himself and the arrogant humans, but first, he’d give them grist for the mill. He loosed his hold on his beast and it burst forth, altering form faster than he expected.
Katya’s approving laughter as she teleported out of the grand hall warmed him. Predictably, both humans cowered in the face of eight feet of black-scaled magnificence. He shot fire upward in great gouts and bugled menacingly before he teleported out of the chamber, following his sister.
Ha! Let Erin and Johan wrap their feeble minds around magic and dragons and other things neither of them believed existed. Next time he and Katya showed up, the humans would bow to them. Kiss their toes. Be cognizant of the honor bestowed upon them.
Very few humans had ever been rescued by dragon shifters.
Damn few.
In truth, he couldn’t think of any.
He materialized on the same spit of land where he’d shifted last time. Katya waited for him. “Give me a ride,” she demanded. “Perhaps it will present my beast with ideas.”
“More likely, your dragon will be outraged you’ve chosen to ride on another. It might be just the thing to draw it back to your control. Hop on, Sister. Let us determine if the ship I saw earlier has left yet.”
Chapter 6
Smoke stung my eyes and lungs as I stared at where the dragon had stood. Christ on a fucking crutch. A dragon. It had to have been real. It was breathing fire. No number of props could mimic a display like that. Speaking of breathing, I was having a hell of a hard time talking my lungs into cooperating. They’d forgotten what they were designed to do.
Move air into my body so the rest of it didn’t die.
Johan was muttering in Dutch. I started to tell him to switch to English, but what difference did language make in the face of what I’d just seen? A thought slammed into me so hard, I doubled over.
Maybe I was dead. That had to be it. My head injury had killed me, and everything else was random neurons firing, making me think I was still here. It didn’t exactly explain Johan, but he could be dead too. When he’d done all that work sliding across the rough dirt floor and dropping a flashlight down to where I’d fallen the first time, he must have torn his leg up again. It had bled, and he was gone right along with me.
It didn’t exactly explain how I’d crawled out of the pit. Or the rope. Or Johan moving around, walking on the broken leg, but I might have dreamed the whole thing.
Breath whooshed out of me, the cadence I’d tried so hard to maintain forgotten. I didn’t need to breathe. Not anymore, so I stopped paying attention to forcing air into my lungs. Maybe my central nervous system could get on with dying, and I wouldn’t be presented with impossibilities like dragons or glowing naked humanoids who puffed smoke and fire.
Arms wrapped around me from behind. I was so shocked, I shrieked.
“Erin. Get hold of yourself. We need to strategize.” Johan spoke sternly. “We must assume they can hear everything we say.”
I twisted in his grip. “But we’re dead,” I protested. “We have to be. It’s the only explanation.”
He grabbed my chin in one hand hard enough to hurt and made me look at him. “We are not dead.”
“Yeah. Go on. Keep telling yourself that.” I tried to pull out of his grasp, but he held tight. “Jesus, Johan, you’re hurting me.”
“That, Madame Doctor, is far from the worst of our problems. For one thing, it proves you are very much alive. I need you. All of you. Front and center and thinking.” After a final squeeze, he let go.
I rubbed my jaw a little gingerly. “I liked my explanation fine. What’s yours?”
“I read a lot of science fiction. Fantasy too. I have for a long time.”
“I suppose you’re going to tell me your stories have come to life?” I didn’t bother tempering my sarcasm.
“Hear me out before you mock me.”
Shame ran hot. On the off chance we weren’t dead—and I still wasn’t totally convinced about that—we were in this together. I nodded mutely.
“Good woman. All right. Similar to the topic of alien visitation, enough common threads exist in speculative fiction, I always suspected someone had run across humans who too
k animal forms and vampires and witches and faeries.”
“Why stop there?” I clapped a hand over my mouth. “Sorry.”
He looked askance at me. “Many, many humans have detailed alien abductions where they were taken into ships or to other worlds. All of them could not have been mentally ill.”
“Why not?” Damn it. I couldn’t seem to keep my mouth shut. Apparently, my lungs were working fine even absent me riding herd on them.
“Because there are too many of them. I have read Carl Jung’s theories about a collective unconscious that gives us common memories, but when hundreds of people from every culture imaginable all recount similar incidents, there must be something to them.”
Sweat poured down my body. I dragged my arms out of the sleeves of my suit and unzipped the layers beneath it. Johan swiped a finger across my forehead. “The dead do not sweat.”
“Yeah. All right. So we’re not dead. It was easier when I thought we were.”
“Only because it excused you from doing anything beyond standing here.” His tone was implacable, and I wanted to punch him.
“What do you think Konstantin and Katya are?”
“Dragon shifters. At least he is since he showed us. She is his twin sister. Presumably, she has similar abilities.”
Most of my pleasure reading was romance novels, but I’d be damned if I’d admit it. “What do you know about shapeshifters?”
“Obviously, they came from somewhere other than Earth. I have no idea why they’re here, how long they’ve been here, or what they want with us.”
“I figured they saw us as food,” I mumbled.
“You are not thinking. Antarctica has plentiful fish and bird populations. Penguins taste better than we do.”
“And you know this, how?”
Johan grinned crookedly. “I have eaten penguin. Never humans, though, but I suspect we’d be tough.”
Jonathan Swift’s A Modest Proposal, where he tongue-in-cheek suggested the Irish eat children, danced through my mind. I shut it down fast. “Let’s take a walk and see if there’s a way out of here.”