by TJ Cross
Another thing my Google searches had failed to explain to me was the nature of dragon shifters. I learned all I could online about other, more common shifter breeds. After a week, I was practically an expert on folklore commonly associated with wolf shifter packs, or the North American climates best preferred by loner bear shifters...
Yet I knew nothing about dragons. There was nothing about the makeup of their community, let alone solid specifics like the estimated numbers of their kind in the world. I was struggling to even find any texts detailing the great purge Everett referred to in the Middle Ages.
But while research took up most of my time and interest since my meeting with the Copperwinds, I had to move on. There was so little I knew about my own pregnancy, so I decided to make an appointment with the only shifter shaman operating in town.
Rufus had helped make the appointment for me. "It's extremely unusual. Some people I know even think he's a bit of a quack, like he's not trustworthy -- because usually shamans like to separate themselves from the material world in order to better focus on the spiritual one, yet there's this guy advertising his services on Facebook and Twitter. Anyway, while I can't vouch for the guy, I think he might be your best bet for now," my friend had told me.
"I don't know what to expect," I confessed to him.
Rufus shrugged. "One of my mother's grand-aunts was a great shifter shaman, apparently. When I was a kid I actually had a chance to meet him. It was all spiritual mumbo-jumbo to me, honestly, but real shifters swallow it religiously. I don't know, man. If anything, at least they're really attuned to the world or something, so maybe they can help glean some information for you about the baby."
"That could be helpful," I said, thinking on how I had zero information right now. Even a confirmation of how far along I was would be a great help. I didn't even have a clue how long the pregnancy would last, automatically assuming it would go on for the nine months that a human one would.
Although it wasn't a human child inside me, nor was it a human womb my baby occupied. It was all magic: shifter magic, the strange and dark elemental powers of a dragon... yet one that was apparently dictated first and foremost by love.
It was a surprise to me to find that shifters valued love so much. In my ignorance I had thought of them as little more than animals on two feet, wearing human skin to disguise themselves in the world.
I had thought of them being chained to their lusts and most primal, primitive needs... and while this appeared to be the case for many shifters, especially dragons, they were far more complex than that.
Magic was beyond my understanding even at this point in my life, and trying to learn about it was something that instantly flicked a light off in my head. It was magic -- yet the spellbooks were so full of mathematical equations, long, academic studies into the meanings of ancient words, and footnote after footnote talking about the origins of the various powers... all of which was fascinating to me, yet had no impact on my life in the end as I was never going to be able to unleash magic, being an ordinary human.
Well, as ordinary a human as I could be, being pregnant and all.
Everett even checked in every couple of days, clearly timing the intervals in which he messaged me, to make sure I didn't get the idea he was more available than he really was. Part of me was grateful that he was making time for me, even if it was over texts, but another part of me craved his presence, wanting nothing more than to have him by my side... or atop me.
I glanced back on my phone. Dozens of notifications for Tinder messages from interested, horny men -- and women, it seemed, despite my account settings -- wanting a piece of me. Yes, I had installed the app... but no, I somehow felt myself uninterested in following up with these people.
The sad thing was that I didn't want to message any of them back, or even read their messages, because unless it was Everett wanting me -- I didn't want anyone else.
But not wanting anyone else didn't mean I didn't deserve to fuck the pain away. I was pregnant already: what was the worst that could happen?
The shaman visit came first, though. He had a tiny studio apartment that somehow transformed into this labyrinthine maze from all the things he hoarded, barely making enough space for passages for one person to walk through.
"Senor Esteban?" I called out, looking around, having lost him again while I tried to inch my way through his racks of old rotary telephones and AT&T bills. "I'm here for a... well, reading, I guess. That is what you do, right?"
The city's only shaman branded his business in an unintentional copy of most human fortune tellers. Maybe that was his most accurate description, anyway. He was a wild wolf, unaffiliated to a pack and thus free to the world, but he was uninterested in the politics of pack domains. All he cared about was finding insight to the future through reading the souls of others.
"Rarely does a human come to find me," the man said, the lilt of his Mexican accent adding to the mystery of his appearance. He wore tattered clothes, layers upon layers of them, looking like a padded monstrosity in torn and faded jeans over long tank tops repurposed into cloth layers, with a cashmere jacket missing the right sleeve crowningh is look. His hair flew upwards, like a perverse reimagining of a mad scientist.
"I'm a human with a shifter problem," I said, half-joking.
He laid his eyes on me properly now, scrunching his forehead as my situation dawned on him. "Chosen, the first one among our ranks -- not only that, the first one among his ranks, too."
"So you know who the alpha is," I murmured.
"No, I do not. But I have an image in my head. A grin resembling a smirk. The confidence of a warlord returning after battle to enjoy his spoils. Wisdom of the ages ignored for the private thrill of late nights... he pursued you in great lust, yes, but there surely is more to it," the shaman said, rocking left and right as he read me with chilling accuracy.
"Is it true?" I asked, stumbling to pose my question in full upon realizing I had failed to explain what I wanted to know. "Is it true that his kind cannot, uh, create male pregnancy without true love?"
"Dragons struggle to breed naturally, which is why they are so vulnerable to dying without procreating," the shaman nodded, impressing me with the instantaneous answer. "They place the power of their magic first and foremost, because they are inherently creatures of magic... for unlike my kind, or many of the others, they are not just blessed with powers that come from their great physical endowments. They are magical, and when magic dies in the world, so will they."
I tried to parse what the shaman was telling me, even as he spun a long tale with each answer. "So this means they definitely believe in the whole love magic thing."
"We all do," Senor Esteban answered. "But his kind cannot contemplate the possibility that it could all be untrue."
Scratching my head, I asked the one question I needed a wise shifter to answer for me. "Then how is it I'm pregnant?"
"I sense and sense, reaching out with the breadth of my open arms, yet come with no answer for you," the shaman shook his head. "All I detect is... true love."
"He does not love me," I said, as if it wasn't already obvious. "Lust, yes. I'm sure if we were to tangle again in bed, we'd make a wonderful pair. Of course we would."
"But you are not convinced he would love you?"
I snorted. "I'm not convinced he can love anyone, not with his attitude. It's all... 'oh, I can't do this because it's just not possible.'"
The shaman looked at me. "Dragons are beings made from what should be impossible. Tell him, that if anything should be impossible, it should be him and his kind."
"Oh, I will," I said, smiling now.
"Come again another time... when you have had the chance to develop your pregnancy further. It is too difficult for me to navigate through truth and falsehood right now."
I groaned inside. Coming to see the shaman had served no purpose -- he couldn't even tell me if I was pregnant because of true love or not. In fact, he said that I was! But that made no sense
whatsoever.
A warmth flooded me as I left the shaman's place. It felt like happiness, but one tinged with nostalgia. It felt like I was accessing some ancient memory inside me, remembering something wonderful from my past.
Then it struck me that I was feeling an instinctual, emotional expression from my baby. It felt... psychic. Like I could sense the child-like happiness come from the barely-formed being inside me. The dragon child.
Feeling its warmth was like feeling my baby kick. I smiled the rest of the day, knowing that I was absolutely not going to give this baby up, not even for the world. I was going to keep my dragon child.
CHAPTER SEVEN
"Hello? Yes. Mr Graystone, please. It's Helen Copperwind," I heard the phone go as I checked my new voice messages. "I imagine you've got a lot on your plate so I won't waste your time here by trying to connect with you with repeated phone calls... but I'd like to have brunch with you tomorrow. Would that be good with your schedule? I can have Francis Foster bring a car round for you. Tomorrow, 11am at the Howell Lodge, it's a dining club our company owns."
Part of me thought about rejecting the offer and instead focusing on my own schedule but I really had no reason to turn it down. Despite our rocky introduction, I found myself liking Mrs Copperwind -- discovering her first name made me like her even more.
What sort of dragon is named Helen?
The paternal, well, maternal side in me had blossomed totally. Now I could sense the actual shift in my own body. There was a distinct bump on my belly, the roundness becoming taut as every day passed, although my slender frame meant I could hide it under most of my clothes. My wardrobe would not need an update, which was good, because most days I stuck to t-shirts and Oxford button-downs.
A smile was my reaction at the dread of having to replace all that with oversized sweaters and loose shirts. "Nope, not going to be me," I insisted, looking at the mirror as I got dressed for the brunch with Everett's mother.
Perhaps I was dressing conservatively for her, out of some weird fear that I didn't want to come off too gay to her. It shouldn't matter, but this was a woman who had been alive literal centuries. (Everett surely must have, as well.) I was going to treat her with the arms-length decency of values inculcated in me by my own parents, who tolerated my sexuality even if they didn't necessarily celebrate it.
Although in their case, I knew it was because they had been counting on me to be the one to push the bloodline forward... being an only child emphasized that agenda for them.
Dad and Mom had given up by now, but once upon a time they had even tried to push me into getting a fake marriage just for the sake of having kids.
"That's not who I am," I said, aghast at the thought. "And what's the point in having kids if I had to live a sham marriage that would, you know, just go on to hurt them? Wouldn't you rather your grandkids be raised by loving parents who genuinely cared about each other, rather than some... I don't know, some lie?"
My mother paused to find the most diplomatic way to say what she and my father wanted. "Well, it doesn't have to be a lie. You could find someone who wanted kids too... someone who would accept the alternative lifestyle you prefer. You could love your children together platonically."
I shook my head. "If a saint like that even existed, I wouldn't deserve her."
"We can help you find her..." my father croaked, but I politely -- carefully, because my politeness had limits -- declined.
My parents eventually came to accept me for who I was, and while the disappointment continued to live on, they knew that being able to deal with me as who I was helped mend our ties far better than insisting on a set of values that didn't represent our true relationship.
"I wonder if I should tell them," I murmured, putting on my shoes. I had picked out nondescript white sneakers, minimalist luxury ones from Common Projects that Jodie had bought me as an extra-special birthday present last year -- that same week I had helped her by letting her stay with me for a month when her asshole landlord abruptly terminated her lease on some extremely bullshit reason -- and I felt it completed my look.
Presenting myself as decent, clean, and crisp was what I wanted. Part of me worried that people like her, knowing I was pregnant, would instead assume I would be a hot mess, having nothing but the pregnancy on my mind. That wasn't who I was, either.
The pregnancy had given me a lot of joy, even if it was tempered by the fact that I needed to walk this journey alone. I didn't know if I was going to have a boy or a girl, but I knew that I would love my child with an inexhaustible, complete heart.
I was going to be a great fucking parent.
Mrs Copperwind waited for me in her own private table, clearly the best one in the dining club. The name of the place sounded extremely Masonic to me, and its decor kept up with that appearance. Ornate wood panelling everywhere, with windows advertising the city's best views from the 16th floor of an old-money hotel. This was a nicer place than the Pacifica.
"Mr Graystone," the elder dragon said, granting me a smile as I was ushered to my seat at her table for two.
"Really, you can call me Finn," I said, returning the smile. An awkwardness seized me as I wondered if I should go with a handshake or a hug, but the nod she offered me as I sat down was all the signal I needed. I nodded right back.
"How are you? I'm terribly lonely most mornings and do enjoy a brunch companion. Most people I have the chance to grab a meal with are... well, hardly as interesting as the young people of the world," she began.
"I'm sure the kind of circles you participate in offer far more interesting people than me, actually," I pointed out.
She smiled neutrally, with no warmth apparent in it -- but no cruelty, no coldness there either. Just a default, polite mode. "Most Senators and captains of industry aren't pregnant due to magic, so I can hardly say you're less interesting than them."
I felt my hopes rise all of a sudden. "Does this mean you're willing to start talking about how Everett's the father of the baby?"
"He was extremely vague with me when I asked him about his conversation with you. I'd be willing to discuss the topic you're interested in, if you'd be willing to discuss what he told you," she answered.
With a sigh, I shrugged and told her the truth. "This whole 'it's impossible' thing is causing a serious obstacle in having a civil discussion of him being a dad, honestly."
"But you've had the chance to accept that it is impossible, that we dragons cannot mate and produce heirs without, well, love being part of it? We're creatures born of magic and surrounded by magic always. What you're insisting would shatter the world view of not just myself and my son's, but the entire shifter universe," Helen said, her voice becoming extremely serious.
I let my frustration play out in my voice. "I don't know how to tell you that it really is the case. Why don't you ask him? Maybe Everett did love me, somehow, all the while we were... you know, doing what we did."
"Lust does not equate to love," Helen countered.
"I understand that, but there's got to be an explanation. How else could I have gotten pregnant? You're an ancient dragon with powerful instincts and the ability to intuit truth just by looking at someone. You could probably even read my mind if you wanted."
Helen snorted. "Mind-reading isn't exactly a dragon thing. For good reason, too."
"Well... search me all you want. Submit me to any experiment you wish, and you'll know that Everett is the man who got me pregnant," I said, pleading to her.
"Yes," Helen nodded. "But there's no need for that. I already know this... I knew as soon as we met. I'm surprised Everett has yet to sense it, however..."
"He's a playboy in denial," I was quick to explain to her. "Him being a father would, well, change his whole life, wouldn't it?"