by Finley Aaron
“Do you know of any who were actually dragons?” Felix presses, and I know exactly why. He’s been searching his whole life for more dragons. Lately, we all have. My two sisters and other brother were even fortunate enough to find dragons, fall in love with them, and marry.
Felix and I are still searching. Or Felix is, anyway. I’m more interested in finishing my thesis paper than finding a groom.
“Some, given what is known of their relatives, I suspect may have been dragons, though I have no proof of it.” Constantine shakes his head. “Not for certain. Some I am nearly certain were not. Others, I simply know too little about to even hazard a guess. It was all just a bit before my time, I’m afraid.”
We’re silent a moment. Felix strums his bare fingers on the tabletop (I made him take off his rings and hide them before I agreed to even call Constantine—we just can’t be too careful). My brother’s next question surprises me.
“If a vampire is the result of a dragon/human union, and a weaker vampire is the result of a vampire/human union, it makes me wonder—what would be the result of the union between a vampire and a dragon?”
Something like terror flashes across Constantine’s face so briefly I’m not completely sure it was actually there. He turns to the board again. “I have only known one, so I cannot say to what extent he was representative of his kind. Nonetheless, I can describe him.”
As he speaks, Constantine begins to draw a creature between the pictures of the dragon and the bat. This new creature has large wings, a human-like figure, horns growing from his head, and a spiked tail.
“More dragon than human, it is capable of flight in human form. It has the horns of a dragon, retains the fire of a dragon, and, like a dragon, becomes flushed with color when taking on any form other than that of a human. The individual I knew happened to turn bright red.”
He puts the lid back on the marker, and Felix and I are left staring at a character similar to those we’ve seen drawn countless times, from modern cartoons to ancient illustrations.
Constantine explains, “The individual I knew was a tortured creature. Misunderstood, mistreated, angry, but also fierce, powerful, and ambitious. I don’t know if his kind has a proper name, but I can tell you what his contemporaries called him: demon, devil, Dracula.”
“Dracula?” I repeat.
“He was Vlad Dracula’s son. Yes, in his later years, Vlad Dracula married a Hungarian princess, a full-blooded dragon. She bore him this child. Like his father before him, he was not afraid to demand respect, he did not hesitate to take his revenge when he felt he had been wronged. His reputation eventually led to the corruption of the translation of the Dracula name. Whereas always before it had meant son of the dragon, for those who knew him, the name came to mean son of the demon, or son of the devil.”
I knew about the Hungarian princess. From my research, I knew she and Vlad Dracula had a son, that his name is recorded very differently depending on the records one consults, that her name is not consistently recorded, nor was there ever any indication given that she was a dragon.
Then again, if ever there was such a record noted, I can’t help suspecting it was struck from memory by those who preferred to forget her and her son—especially if he was as devious as Constantine describes him as being.
“What happened to him?” Felix asks.
“He was biologically immortal by birth,” Constantine notes. “I can recall various occasions when great rewards were offered to anyone who could kill him. To my knowledge, the reward was never claimed.”
Felix and I exchange a long look. I can read my brother well, and I know he can read me. Right now, we’re having a silent conversation that consists mostly of what have we gotten ourselves into? Is this devil still out there? And, is he the one behind the other vampires who attacked me?
But Constantine must be watching our faces, as well, because he rushes to reassure us. “I have not heard anything of him in almost a century. If he is still alive, he has learned to hide, to blend in. He is not focused on causing trouble, but on his own survival. There is no reason to fear.”
“Do you really think so?” I ask.
“He is a fascinating footnote of history. That is all. I only brought him up because the question was asked. But please—have I answered all your questions?”
“I guess,” Felix admits.
“Good. Then I have a question of my own. Felix?”
“Yes?”
“Has Rilla told you of our blackjack agreement?”
“Operation Bankroll? She mentioned it.”
“Good. Then you understand why it is advantageous to me to have a multiple-person team?”
“Sure.”
“Would you be willing to join my team?”
“Whoa,” I break into their conversation. “Felix isn’t legally old enough to gamble. You have to be twenty-one years old.”
“I can get him ID that says he’s twenty-one.”
“But that’s not ethical.”
“I have false ID. You didn’t have a problem with that.”
“But you need one because you’re five hundred years older than you look.” I round off the numbers with little accuracy. “Felix really is just as old as he looks, which is only nineteen.”
“I’m cool with it,” Felix agrees, in spite of my protests. He leans close and whispers in my ear, “I was going to have to get fake ID eventually, anyway. Why not now?” Then he turns and addresses Constantine at full volume. “I’m in.”
“Thank you, Felix. I really do appreciate it.” Constantine pulls out decks of cards. “What do you say we practice, hmm? Maybe we can win some money next weekend.”
So we play cards.
For the next week, we play cards every evening, and I’m almost able to forget about the dangers that surround us. No vampires show up, nobody gets attacked, nothing gets stolen. I don’t even see any sign of bats.
Maybe when they impaled Constantine, and he told them I don’t have the book, maybe they actually believed him and went away.
I doubt they’d give up so easily, but the only other explanation is that they’ve decided to fall back, regroup, and come at us from a different angle at a later date.
And while the second of those two options seems the more likely one to me, and could potentially result in a dangerous situation for us all, we can’t predict what that might be. So for the time being, we’re just glad they’re gone, and Felix and I get to focus on learning how to count cards and win money.
It’s actually kind of fun.
At the same time, we’re practicing our non-verbal communication skills, which for now we use mostly for telling each other to refill our snacks. Constantine is especially helpful in this respect, because he can teleport away, buy rotisserie chickens or whatever we’re craving, and return with the food before Felix has finished shuffling the cards.
On Thursday evening at sundown, Constantine arrives with more than just chicken. He has a fake ID for Felix.
“Vasile?” I read the name out loud. “You made him a Romanian citizen?”
“Not too bad, hmm?” Constantine looks pleased with himself. “It even sounds a bit like Felix.”
“I dig it.” Felix takes the ID and places it in his wallet.
“But you don’t even speak Romanian,” I remind my brother. “What are you going to do if someone tries to talk to you in your native tongue, Vasile?”
“I’ll pretend to be hard of hearing or something. It’s going to be fine.”
“It’s going to be fine,” Constantine repeats, and whips out a bunch of large luggage bags from over his shoulder. “Now, some clothes for you to wear this weekend.”
“We’re dressing up? I thought we could just wear whatever, like a nice top and some slacks, or something.”
“You can wear whatever, but I think you will find your role easier to play if you’re dressed for it. Besides, the right clothes can add drama, which is a helpful distraction factor. Felix, for you.”
/> Felix hangs the bags on the nearest doorframe and unzips them to reveal a couple of dark blazers and some spendy jeans.
“Shoes, socks, t-shirts in this bag.” Constantine tosses him another bundle before presenting the last couple of garment bags to me. “These are for you. Of course you do not have to wear them. You may wear whatever you like. But I think,” he clears his throat and walks past me, hanging the garment bags on the wide wood frame without meeting my eyes. “You may like them.”
He produces a smaller shopping bag. “Here are shoes and accessories. I wanted to give all these things to you ahead of time in case you need to make adjustments.”
I’ve never been huge into dressing up and the fuss that goes along with it, but like all dragons, I’m drawn to sparkly things. So I unzip the first bag and gasp with surprised delight. “Wow. That’s a lot of rhinestones. You don’t think I’ll draw too much attention, do you?” I run my fingers over the halter-neck black gown, its bodice a swirl of stones and sequins.
“In Vegas? Considering the bankroll we’ll be playing, you might draw attention if you don’t dress up.”
Pleased in spite of myself by the first dress, I unzip the second bag and gasp again.
Not because the dress is stunning, though it is.
Not even because it looks crazy expensive, being completely covered with petal-shaped stones like mermaid scales.
No, I gasp because the gown is the exact shade of robin’s egg blue I take on when I’m a dragon.
Chapter Fourteen
“Is it too much? Too low cut? I apologize if I have offended you. When I saw this dress, it seemed to scream your name. It’s as though it matches your soul.”
“It matches her soul all right,” Felix agrees with a chuckle. “That’s her signature color. Nailed it.” He guffaws a little too loudly.
But I’m grateful for his overboard response, glad I have a goofy little brother here who can fill in the awkward silence while my mind is screaming with questions.
How did Constantine know?
He doesn’t know I’m a dragon. Nobody outside my village in Azerbaijan knows I’m a dragon. Obviously my little brother knows, but that’s it.
He would never tell Constantine.
No one could have told Constantine.
Did Constantine see my wings when I fought the vampire for my backpack last week? I honestly don’t think so. If he had, he surely would have asked me about it.
Unless he had a reason not to, like maybe if he was the vampire I fought, which I still haven’t completely ruled out.
“If you do not like it, I can return it,” Constantine offers. “Perhaps I should have let you pick. I thought it would be a fun surprise.”
“It’s lovely,” I squeak, still trying to sort out what and why and how. Is robin’s egg blue really the color of my soul? Do souls have colors?
I am so confused.
Granted, my eyes are the same color as my dragon self—but the catch is, my eyes, like all dragon eyes, glow. They’re seriously luminescent, or maybe even more than luminescent. I’m really not an expert on the terminology of light emission. All I know is, I wear contacts that dull my eyes, so in addition to not glowing and freaking people out, my eyeballs don’t look robin’s egg blue whenever I have my contacts in.
And Constantine has only ever seen me with my contacts in.
So how did he know, and perhaps more importantly, why would he let on he knows?
Is he trying to get me to admit something?
I’m not telling him anything, certainly not when I don’t know for sure whether he can be trusted. Maybe he’s befriending us for nefarious purposes. We and our kind have been betrayed plenty of times before.
But what can I say? I can’t ask him what he’s up to without giving away that there’s a reason why I’d ask. So I just have to play it cool.
“It’s breathtaking. Seriously.” I find my voice at last. “It’s just completely unexpected, and I’m a little worried about how the baggage handlers at the airport will—”
“Don’t worry about that. I will transport it for you. I only wanted you to see it ahead of time in case you need to plan your ensemble accordingly. I know very little of such matters, only that this is a beautiful dress and I should like very much to see you wear it.”
“Thank you. It’s amazing.” I can’t look at Constantine. He can read my face too well, and right now, there are too many questions screaming out of my every pore.
We sit down to play cards, but we don’t play very late. Partly it’s because Felix and I clearly have the whole card-counting thing down just fine, and we’re pretty good at the strategy of the game, too. Anyway, that’s the reason Constantine gives for heading out early.
But more than that, I think it’s the silence, the strained emptiness in our conversation that lurks like an extra shadow at our table. What game is Constantine playing, really? I have a hard time believing the color of my dress is some odd coincidence, or the result of his freakishly attentive insight into the true nature of my soul.
Constantine gives us instructions for tomorrow’s trip to Vegas—flight time, hotel information, all the basics. Then he leaves.
Once I’m sure he’s completely gone, I unzip the garment bag again and look at the dress.
Felix stands next to me. This time, he’s not laughing.
“How did he know?” Felix asks, the note of accusation not completely hidden by concern.
“He can’t know. Nobody knows.”
“Nobody can know,” Felix agrees. “But then, how do you explain this?”
I extend my hand toward the dress, but instead of touching it, I let my fingers hover just in front of it as my arm changes to its dragon form.
To my dragon color.
I blink a few times in wonderment. They match with eerie perfection.
Even the scale-like jewels have a reflective, iridescent sort of quality that almost mimics the luminosity of my dragon scales.
“Want to know what I think?” Felix asks as I change my hand back to human.
“Hmm?”
“Maybe I shouldn’t tell you.”
“What?” I turn and meet my brother’s eyes. I’ll read it on his face if I have to.
But his expression is a troubled one. “I’ve watched you two interacting together.”
“And?” I prompt when he falls silent for too long.
Felix shakes his head. “Maybe I’m putting myself in his place, reading myself into his actions. I don’t know how a vampire thinks.” He crosses to the table and begins clearing away the remains of our snacks.
“But you know how a guy thinks, so your perspective is bound to be closer to his than mine. What do you think Constantine is thinking?”
“You heard what he said about vampires breeding with humans—they make weak vampires. Human women who bear vampire babies have a hard time of it. He said he would never ask someone he cared about to do that.”
“I think he was speaking in a general sense—”
“He was looking at you as he said it. I believe he said it about you.”
I pinch my eyes closed like a child trying to hide by covering her eyes. But closing my eyes won’t make any of this go away. “What do you mean?”
“I mean there’s chemistry between the two of you, and you know it.”
“He’s a vampire. I’m a dragon. If we had offspring, they’d be demons.”
“Exactly. You know you can’t be together. He thinks you’re human, but what difference does it make? He knows you can’t be together. But that doesn’t stop him from feeling.”
“I don’t—” I start to protest, but I’m not sure what to say. I can’t deny that, yes, I like Constantine. I’ve enjoyed the time we’ve spent together, I’m fascinated by all the things he knows about the parts of history I care about most, and honestly, I wish I could get to know him even better.
But I also know the feelings I have for him aren’t going anywhere, because I won’t let them. No
matter how strong the attraction between us, I am stronger than my feelings. I am master of my emotions. “I don’t understand what this has to do with the dress.”
“He knows the two of you can’t be together, but he still wants to see you in that dress. He knows that’s your color, even if he doesn’t know why.”
“Why would he care what I wear?”
“Because he wants you to be happy. It’s like me and Nia.”
“Ram’s wife?”
“You know Ram and I fought for her affection. Ram won. I stepped aside because I want Nia to be happy. I loved her, but she wasn’t happy that Ram and I were fighting over her. She wasn’t going to be happy with me—not as happy as she could be with Ram. So I gave them my blessing. She’s happy. I’m happy that she’s happy—it makes me happy to know she’s happy.”
“You don’t sound happy.”
“I’m lonely. I miss her. I miss my brother, believe it or not. It’s hard to be around him when he’s with her,” Felix admits begrudgingly. “It’s hard to be around either of them when they’re so happy together.”
“So, the dress…”
“Maybe I’m putting myself in Constantine’s place, but here’s what I think: he cares about you. He wants you to be happy. He bought you the dress because you’re going to look fabulous in it, and not even the blackjack dealers of Vegas will be immune to your charms. You’re going to win him money in that dress and look great doing it. He bought you the dress because he cares about you, even if he knows you can’t be together. That’s what I think.” Felix shrugs. “But I don’t know how a vampire thinks.”
*
True to plan, the next day, Felix and I fly to Vegas after my last class. We have no problems checking in to the suite Constantine reserved under Felix’s Vasile pseudonym.
Constantine raps on our hotel room door as we’re settling in.
“Everything went smoothly?” Constantine asks, stepping past me into the room the moment I open the door. “You weren’t followed?” He’s wearing a black satin-striped suit of the latest design, and he looks flawless.