Wings of Exile

by JD Monroe

  Erevan lifted the lid of the closest crate, then swore. She peeked around his large frame. The crate was filled with the same glowing purple vials they’d seen in Beale’s facility. Laid neatly in nests of packing material, there was a layer of eight vials in the crate. Judging by the size, there were probably three layers. There were a dozen more crates in the process of being packed on the tables. A flatbed dolly was parked at the edge of the space, stacked high with sealed crates. There had to be hundreds of the vials if they were all packed the same way.

  “How many died for this?” Horror filled his dark eyes. “How did we not know?”

  She squeezed his hand. As their connection awakened, she felt the turbulent distress roiling in him. “You know now. And we’re going to end it.”

  He nodded grimly.

  Hand in hand, they pressed past the packing area and into the large space beyond. His hand clamped on hers, and a wave of heat rolled over them as his anger flared. It stung her burned arm, but she gritted her teeth. The reaction was justified.

  Laid out in a neat grid were dozens of surgical steel tables. Each was surrounded by multiple IV poles, monitors, and other medical paraphernalia. On each table was a Kadirai prisoner in the throes of transformation. Their limbs were distended, scales gleaming against pallid skin.

  Erevan murmured quietly in Kadirai. For once, she didn’t berate him to speak in English. The troubled cast to his face and the low inflection told her all she needed to know. His hand shook as they walked forward. “This is wrong. This is wrong,” he repeated.

  “I know.” They hurried along the first aisle. She didn’t want to look at the agonized dragons, but she had to find her friend. Two men, one woman, and a damp table with a spray bottle of bleach. The woman was a blonde. Not Thea. She hurried to the next aisle, hauling Erevan with her. No Thea.

  Her heart thumped as panic reared its head. What if they were too late? What if Thea had been on the freshly cleaned table? Worse, what if Thea hadn’t even come here? What if this was all a wild goose chase?

  Like he sensed the anxiety threating to drown her, Erevan squeezed her hand. He didn’t speak, but his firm grasp grounded her once more.

  They passed more than a dozen of the contorted dragons before she saw a familiar sweep of dark hair, the sharp widow’s peak against olive skin. Her cheeks were gaunt, her eyes sunken into deep shadow.

  “Thea!” Natalie exclaimed, releasing Erevan’s hand as she dashed forward. Her friend’s body was draped with a sheet, bulging with the web of tubing and wires connected to her. Her arms were bruised dark, with thick restraints above her elbows. Thick tubes ran from her neck and chest into a pump behind her, filled with dark crimson. Her right arm was normal, while her left arm was scaled in silver from the elbow down. She grabbed Thea’s wrist and dug her fingers in. There was a thin, thready pulse. Sure enough, her friend’s chest rose slowly. Her throat closed up as relief flooded through her.

  Her relief was short-lived. Even with tears pricking her eyes, something dark and monstrous awoke in Natalie. If she could lay eyes on Dornan right now, she would ram lightning down his throat until his body disintegrated.

  “We have to get her loose,” she said. “We have to—"

  “We have to disable that weapon first. Look.” He lifted a thin white wire that connected to a pair of earbuds in Thea’s ears. He pulled them out. His hand drifted toward his head like he was going to listen, then he paused. Sheepishly, he extended the earbud to her instead.

  “Good choice.” With her heart thumping in anticipation, she held it close to her ear. “Nothing.”

  He took it back and flinched as he placed it near his ear. Then his expression smoothed out. “Nothing.”

  “Maybe they’re only activating it if something happens,” Natalie said. “Like a safety measure.”

  He nodded. “Like the remotes.”

  She nodded. “It’s connected to something. Let’s find it.” Though she knew Thea was lost into deep unconsciousness, Natalie grasped her friend’s clammy fingers. They were slack, with no tension to show that her friend was still in there. “I’m here. We’re getting you out. Just hang on.” Running her fingers along the thin cord, Natalie followed the connection to a small box mounted low on the IV pole. There were volume controls on the back of the box. “Here.” A thicker black cable ran from the other side of the box and onto the floor.

  A tangle of wires and cables emerged from each of the tables. Strips of black electrical tape secured them to the concrete floor below. Tracing with her fingers, she followed the black audio cable from Thea’s table across the floor. It eventually merged with a dozen others, bundled together with zip tires. The thick bundle ended at the far wall of the warehouse, where they were sealed into the wall with a rubber gasket. Three feet past the cables was a door.

  Taking a breath to stay herself, she grasped the handle. It was unlocked. When she opened it, Erevan let out a choked noise. She instantly reached back and grabbed his arm, which was contracted hard as a rock. The magic of the Elegy poured over them. She felt like she’d walked into a cobweb, with the sticky film clinging to her skin. Her stomach sank. She’d never been so close to it. This wasn’t an echo over a speaker, it was the real thing.

  With her hand on Erevan, she could feel the merciless storm raging in him. His eyes were changing, pupils elongating against glowing amber. Red scales bloomed on his right shoulder. “Erevan, no!” She grabbed his arms. He was burning up. There was a sense of something slapping back at her grasping hand, like he was protecting himself from her.

  “Stop it,” she said. A series of gut-wrenching cracks broke through the echoing ring of the weapon. His back arched, and his arms twisted so he could grab her wrists. His strong grip on her burned arm sent a nauseating wave of pain through her. It was hard with her own fear and pain clouding her thoughts, but she tried to push a feeling of calm and comfort to him.

  “Can’t,” he choked. The dragon in him clawed at her through their connection, scraping down her spine with phantom claws. They weren’t reaching for each other but fighting each other for control. She was losing him.

  She wrenched her arms free of his grasp. “Just give me a second,” she said. She barged into the room and slammed the door behind her to shield him from the sound.

  Lined in soft gray foam, the room was about ten feet square, with dozens of colored wires streaming across the walls like vines. They all converged on a huge soundboard sitting on a desk against the far wall. Two video monitors flanked the soundboard. At the center of the room, a trio of microphones on boom stands formed a triangle.

  Floating at the center of the triangle was a blue crystal the size of her fist, wrapped with silver wire. It pulsed slowly with light. A metal basin filled with purple flame stood beneath it. The sound wasn’t loud in her ears, but she felt the intense vibration of it down to her bones, like she was standing next to a giant subwoofer at a concert.

  This was it. It seemed too small to be so devastating, but the proof was in the distressed dragon she’d left outside.

  The mere sight of the crystal made her uneasy. She reached for it, then thought better of it. Instead, she grabbed one of the microphone stands and slammed it against the crystal. She expected resistance, but the crystal flew across the room and banged into the wall.

  The sight of the crystal and the feel of its power crawling on her skin awakened the lightning in her. Even though its magic was grotesque and dark, it drew her in with irresistible magnetism. She held out both hands, staring at them as if she had just seen them for the first time. Erevan had torn a helicopter out of the sky. She could do this; for him, for Thea, for all of them.

  The spark ignited in her chest.

  This is my power. This is mine. They are mine. He is mine.

  The ferocity of that last thought brought the spark exploding through her limbs. She stared in surprise at the orb of lightning crackling in her palm. With a satisfied smile, she pushed her hands outward.

 
; You hurt them. You hurt him.

  The tiny orb turned into a powerful, jagged stream of pure lightning. The shock lashed back at her, burning through her and seizing her in its grasp, but she didn’t relent. Blinding sparks enveloped the crystal. With a grunt of effort, she poured another wave of power into it. Her vision went white.

  She staggered as the crystal exploded, showering the room with shards of glass. The energy rolled over her, taking her stomach on a loop, then passed over. The sound was finally gone. The silence in its wake was disconcerting. She sat up to see the crystal shattered into half a dozen large pieces and piles of tiny rubble all around.

  “Good job, self,” she said, staggering to her feet.

  She hurried out of the room, yanking the door shut behind her. The sound had stopped, but the damage had been done. Erevan was on his knees, hands planted against the concrete as he tried to breathe through the raging magic. There was blinding fire where his eyes should have been. Sharp red scales emerged in a line down his back, trickling blood. “Erevan!” she exclaimed. He didn’t answer.

  Well, it worked in fairy tales.

  Natalie dropped to her knees and kissed him. His lips were dry, scalding hot against hers. They parted slightly, though it wasn’t the welcoming, enveloping embrace she’d hoped for. His hands flew to her face, burning against her cheeks. For a split second, she was afraid he would hurt her in his confusion. She clasped his wrists, holding on for dear life. “It’s me,” she murmured. “You’re fine. I’m here.” The storm relented, like a break between waves. In the lull, she pushed her mind against his, trying to send her thoughts into the roaring chaos.

  Trust me. I’m here.

  “It’s okay,” she murmured against his cheek. “You’re okay. We’re okay. Stay with me.”

  The angry, blazing fire receded, leaving an inviting heat. Instead of fighting her, his warm presence slid along her senses like a lover’s caress. She let out a small sigh as a tingle ran down her spine.

  He shuddered and rested his forehead against hers. “We’re okay,” he echoed. “We’re okay.”

  There was something oddly soothing about watching the dragon sleep, back in the safety and comfort of his own bed. With his face washed clean, Erevan looked young and unconcerned with the earth-shaking revelations of the last few days. Thin cuts marred his jaw, and there were still terrible bruises and crescent-shaped bite patterns on his limbs from where Dornan’s men had tied him down. But his skin was smooth, with no sign of scales breaking through.

  Natalie brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead. He stirred, his dark eyes barely visible through heavy lids. When he saw her, his lips pulled into a lazy smile. He took her hand and pressed it to his warm cheek. His lips moved, but the words were lost in the slurred, dreamy speech of sleep.

  She sat there with him for a few minutes, waiting for the rhythmic breathing of sleep to return. It didn’t make sense. They’d known each other less than a week, but she’d fallen hard. Swept away, consumed by fire even before they’d made love for the first time. She’d never felt rage like she had when she saw what Dornan had done to him. The relief at seeing him now was indescribable.

  Was it love? Was it infatuation? Was it some magical by-product of the psychic connection?

  And did the difference even matter?

  Utterly exhausted, he’d been swaying on his feet as the queen’s soldiers carried each of the wounded dragons into Skyward Rest. She didn’t remark on it, wary of wounding his pride. Once they’d brought in all the freed prisoners, Erevan had refused to stay with the healers, saying they needed to devote their attention to the new arrivals. Devi Mara, who’d tended to him before, agreed without objection. She’d sent him off with a large pot of fragrant tea and firm orders to go straight to bed. Likewise, she’d slathered a pungent ointment all over Natalie’s burned arm, wrapped it in gauze bandages, and told her to come back the next day. It was uncomfortable, but Devi’s ointment dulled the pain to a manageable level.

  With the dragon sinking into a well-earned sleep, Natalie carefully extricated her hand. He didn’t stir. She held her breath and tiptoed away, letting herself out of his room. Exhaustion had reared its head as things quieted, and she could have easily crashed along with him. But she hadn’t been allowed to see Thea when they first arrived, and she needed to know how her friend was.

  Several of the Kadirai had awoken as soon as they were freed from the restraints. As she’d suspected, they were being fed a potent blend of sedatives and paralytics to make them manageable. Thea remained unconscious, not even responding to stimuli like a sharp pinch to the bottom of her foot. Natalie tried not to dwell on the implications.

  She’d never thought of herself as a vindictive person, but that changed when she watched Rosak and the other Tempest agents manhandling Dornan into shackles for transport back to Skyward Rest. Each groan of pain was like music to her ears.

  Natalie walked out of the Obsidian Wing barracks where Erevan slept. Though colorful silks still decorated the halls, the happy energy of the Festival was gone. Clusters of people gathered in hallways, talking quietly and urgently. The queen’s attempts to keep things silent ended when nearly two dozen mutilated dragons were brought through the front doors.

  Two guards were posted at the double doors to the infirmary. One of them had been with the group that had arrived to bring the wounded dragons back. He nodded to Natalie in recognition.

  “Can I check on Thea?”

  He hesitated, glancing at his companion. “It’s rather crowded.”

  “I won’t get in the way,” she said. “If they ask me to leave, I will.”

  “Shouldn’t go in,” the other one said.

  “Please?” She resisted the urge to lay a guilt trip on them. She was, after all, the one who’d destroyed the weapon that threatened all of them. If anyone had earned an all-access pass, she had.

  The guard finally nodded. “All right. Just stay out of the way.” He stepped aside and pulled the door open for her.

  On her first visit, the infirmary reminded her of a day spa, with its fresh white linens, silver furnishings, and peaceful atmosphere. Now it looked more like a crowded emergency room, with every bed filled and a dozen harried-looking caregivers bustling through the narrow thoroughfare. It was still quiet, but nervous energy filled the place with a sense of dread. She recognized several of the blue-clad healers from before, including Devi Mara. Silvi, the healer they’d visited in the city was there, though she wore street clothes, as if she’d dropped whatever she was doing to come here.

  A young man in a dark gray uniform hurried up to her. “Are you wounded?”

  “I wanted to check on Thea.”

  “If you’re not in danger, please, get some rest and come back later.”

  She set her jaw. “I just want to check on my friend. I was there. I know how bad it is.”

  His expression softened. “You were there…are you the hybrid?”

  “Apparently,” she said. It felt strange to be the hybrid, but if it got her in to see Thea, she’d take it.

  He glanced over his shoulder and winced. “Just stay out of the way, okay?”

  She nodded. “I will.”

  “I don’t know who’s who,” he said. “We’re still trying to figure out identification for everyone. Most of them aren’t conscious.”

  “Female, dark hair, widow’s peak.” She gestured to her forehead.

  He squinted and pointed toward the right side of the infirmary. “Over there,” he said. “Sorry, I really have to go.”

  “Thanks,” Natalie said. She followed his instructions, surveying each of the wounded dragons in turn. Most had turned back into their human form. One man still had massive teeth jutting over his jaw, which looked incredibly painful. She saw another with two huge, bony spikes protruding from his shoulders. A few beds down, she recognized Thea.

  Her heart thumped as she approached. Silvi Mara perched on the bed with her hands pressed to either side of Thea’s face.
She glanced up as Natalie approached and tilted her head quizzically. “Natalie, right? Are you all right?”

  “I came to check on her,” Natalie said. “How is she?”

  “Very weak. The transformation has stopped, but to be honest, I’m not sure that’s a good sign. We have two others that are catatonic. Their dragons are gone.”

  Thea was far too pale, her deep summer tan faded to a chalky pallor. Her hair was a tangled mess, and there were small streaks of dried blood from removing the tubes that had kept her sedated. Her waxy skin looked too thin, stretched over prominent bone.

  Natalie’s mouth went dry. “Will she wake up?”

  “I don’t know,” Silvi admitted. She frowned. “I’m sorry. I should probably say that a little nicer.”

  “Actually, I prefer the honesty,” Natalie replied. “Are you healing her?”

  “I’m trying,” Silvi said. “I don’t know how much Erevan has told you about our kind.”

  Natalie raised an eyebrow. “He told me that you noticed right away I was a hybrid.”

  “Did he also tell you that he commanded me not to tell you?” Silvi fired back. She gave her a wry smile. “Sorry.” She gestured to her own chest. “We are all filled with life energy. It’s that energy that fuels magic, the dragon transformations, my healing…we call it al-hatari. Thea’s is almost gone. Every one of these dragons is the same way. Whatever these fiends were doing, it drained their essence almost to nothing. If it reaches a critical point, the victim may not recover.”

  “And is Thea at that point?”

  Silvi shrugged again. “It’s hard to tell. We can’t measure this energy the way humans can measure blood pressure. It’s not so scientific. She may recover. She may not. Part of the healing process requires us to transfer a bit of our own energy into our patients, accelerating their natural healing. In this case, it takes a great deal more. Like a blood transfusion. As healers, we can only do so much before we become ill ourselves.”