by Ladew, Lisa
***
A strident sound broke into Heather’s consciousness and her eyes flew open. For a moment, she thought she was still at her mother’s house and the smoke alarm was going off again. But no, she’d gone home, texted Jimmy to tell her mother that she’d taken the bedspread off her bed as a joke and she would bring it back in a few days, just use something different until then, then fell asleep in her own bed.
Which she was no longer in.
Heather looked around, scared, her disorientation falling away quickly, but her fear growing as she realized she was on a city street and the alarm that was blaring was either a fire alarm or a burglar alarm. She backed into the dark empty street and stared at the horrible sight in front of her.
Her stomach turned to water. Oh, God, she’d done it again. Started another fire in her sleep. This time it wasn’t a small one in the woods near her home. This time, it was right in front of a building, and as she watched she could see the siding of the building melting and smoldering in places. It was only a matter of moments before the whole place went up. She craned her neck to the right, afraid of where she thought she was. Yep, at the bottom of the street, well-lit and surrounded by radio towers, less than a half a mile away, was the police station. The police could be there in moments. Hell, if any were on the upstairs floor, they could look out the window and see her.
She backed up farther on shaky legs, realizing her work had a message. How had she done it, formed the reedy bundles of sticks wrapped with rags into the letters that she saw propped up into words in front of her? Each letter burned merrily and she read it quickly but the message made no sense to her.
Heather read it again, then again, realizing once and for all what she’d been fearing for months now. She was completely batshit crazy. They should cart her off to the funny farm, the booby hatch, the loony bin. She’d have her own monogrammed straightjacket and make friends with the other firebugs. They’d form a clique and shut out anyone who didn’t love to burn, like high school all over again. Her mother would visit and wring a handkerchief in her hands while crying the entire time. Maybe she would wear a veil and cry out things like, “Heather, how could you?”
Something on the ground in front of the burning letters caught Heather’s attention and she scrambled forward, falling to her knees to see it, feeling the lovely warmth of the fire on her forehead. One of her mother’s gold rings. What in the…? There was another, and the necklaces she had taken─ had she really taken her mother’s jewelry? Yes, she could remember doing so now, even though it had been hazy earlier when she’d gone to sleep, like she didn’t dare think about it─ and down at the end, her own gold jewelry, all gifts from her parents, in a little pile.
What had she been trying to do? She bent to gather the jewelry up, her eyes scanning it to make sure the pendant wasn’t there. No, she had tucked that into her safe at home, she remembered doing it, remembered feeling like it was hers, it belonged to her, not her mother, and that was why it was ok for her to have kept it.
All at once, the sound of a siren split the air, and Heather jerked her head to the right, towards the police station. It looked quiet. The siren must be fire trucks on their way. The realization hit Heather full in the face as the flames burned happily in front of her.
She couldn’t be caught there. She just couldn’t.
She shot to her feet and ran, having no idea if she was running into trouble, or away from it, but knowing her simple life would never be the same again.
Chapter 8
Graeme moaned and twisted. It felt so good, he never wanted it to stop. Never wanted her to stop, the woman with the blond hair and the lovely eyes. He didn’t even know her name, but she was working him in a manner he’d never experienced before, sliding first her hands and then that lovely, generous mouth over his cock.
The realization hit him hard, pressing fear into his insides like a knife into warm butter. He had to warn her. Had to get her away from him. His eyes flew open, even as his orgasm spilled molten semen from him, coating his leg and the bed he was in.
There was no woman. The room he’d never seen before was empty except for him… and now the fire. Graeme watched it spread for a moment, or try to spread. The mattress seemed to melt and twist wherever his ejaculate had touched it, but the sheet burned merrily on top of his body, revealing his lower half. Why in the world was he naked?
Absently, he wadded the sheet up in his hands, putting out the fire and even pulling the smoke from the air into himself. He twirled a finger around the few remaining holes in the bed that were still trying to burn, then cleaned up all that remained of what had spilled out of him. Just a bit of ash at that point.
He stared down at his body, at his wilting penis that lay innocently on his right thigh, but twitched once as if to say it could go again, and wondered why he’d had a wet dream for the first time in over nine hundred years.
Before he could wonder long, a door slammed somewhere past his little room and a male appeared at his doorway, shrewd, feline eyes finding his at once.
“Oh,” the male said and stopped, his eyes crawling over the destroyed sheet and gutted mattress.
The fellow was a felen, to be sure. The feline eyes, the economy of movement, the utter lack of surprise, all gave him away long before his scent reached Graeme. The equipment and the hospital bed, plus a felen, all added up to only one possible thing.
“You’re the doctor?” Graeme inquired, the real question burning behind his lips, where it would stay until he knew what he was dealing with.
“To be sure,” the male said, then entered the room delicately, his feet making no noise on the floor. He took the sheet from Graeme and made it disappear, then tried to take Graeme’s wrist. “Call me Remington.”
Graeme pulled his arm away and swung his feet to the floor, causing Remington to back up. “My clothes,” he said thickly. “I am fine. I assure you of that.”
The doctor eyed him for just a moment before shaking his head. “You came in with no clothes. Naked like this.”
Graeme dropped his head and checked his internal cache for clothes. They were there. He stood. “I should like to transform, sir. It is safe?”
The doctor walked to the other side of the bed and pulled the curtains closed. “Yes, we are the only ones here.”
Graeme altered his cells with his mind, like he was flipping a light switch. One minute human, mostly, and the next dragon, albeit a small one. He didn’t expect to have energy for a major transformation, since he suspected he’d been in this room for longer than just a day or two. But, surprisingly, power overflowed inside of him. He could have grown a hundred feet tall and smashed the entire city at that moment. Instead, he transformed again, this time, fully dressed in BDU pants, a tactical polo, and work boots, his wallet tucked into the pocket of the pants. What he had been wearing the night they had crossed over into the Pravus.
He caught the felen’s eye, glad to see a hint of surprise there. Everybody loved to trip up a felen. They were usually so unflappable.
“Trevor Burbank, the police lieutenant, how is he?”
Remington made a show of examining the burns in the mattress as he spoke. “He’s fine. He was married last week. His mate has her first appointment with me late this afternoon.”
He stood straight up and stared at Graeme with a bit of self-importance. “The pups, you know. I’m glad to finally be back in the business of birthing the young. It’s been many years too long.”
Graeme nodded, all tension dropping from his muscles. He knew.
“What about the human? Ella’s sister?”
The felen’s eyes widened in contempt. “I know of no human.”
“Of course.”
Remington stared at him sharply. “Don’t you want to know how long you’ve been here?”
Graeme grunted and ran through the questions he cared about in his mind. He would do better to talk to Wade or Trevor directly than waste any more time here with the doctor. He strode towa
rds the door, talking over his shoulder. “Two weeks, I would guess, since you said Trevor was mated last week and I’m sure they didn’t wait long to mate, but they probably needed five to seven days to put together a proper ceremony.”
Remington hurried after him, pulling him around in the large room just outside of the room they’d been in. “Thirteen days, yes, is it common for your species to recuperate in a vegetative state for so long? Did the sparking indicate you were waking, because we thought it meant the opposite.”
Graeme allowed himself to be pulled. The doctor had taken care of him. Done a good job too, he felt like the golden lion himself. Ready to roar, ready to pounce, ready to… wait. He didn’t remember feeling this good in centuries, physically or emotionally. Maybe ever. He searched his mind, thinking deliberately about the many dragen he would never see again, the sad state of life as a dragen, his family, his lack of the things that made life something to enjoy, something to look forward to.
You know, anything that might trigger some sort of depression in him.
Nothing seemed to bother him. He pictured his mother’s face in his head, the way she looked as she went to her death, half surprised he could still remember it. That had been so long ago. No, even that didn’t make him wilt.
The thoughts, did, however, make him see the face of another female in his mind.
He grabbed the doctor’s shoulder. “Where is she? Who is she?”
Remington frowned. “Who?”
“The maiden.” Graeme sniffed, trying to remember her scent. A maiden she had been, yes. “The woman with the blonde hair and the soft hands.”
Remington shook his head. “There is no woman here. You dreamed her.”
Graeme pulled himself up to his full height, a good six or seven inches taller than Remington. “There was a woman. Dinnae think of trying to keep her from me. I can stand much maligning, cat, but dinnae ever believe I would not destroy you if you cross me.”
Remington took a step back, bristling, but when he spoke, his voice wavered. “I swear on my life, dragen, I keep nothing from you.”
Graeme watched him closely, not able to scent emotions like he knew some wolven could. But he believed this male. Behind him, he heard a car pull up close to the house they were standing in.
Graeme let go of him. “I’m sorry, sir. I did not mean to threaten you. Would that you knew who I was talking about, though. I would like to make her acquaintance.”
Even as he said the words, he heard the folly in them. Because the kind of acquaintance he really wanted to make with her would leave her destroyed from the inside out.
Never.
Feet pounded on wooden stairs outside and Graeme turned to the front door of the house, smiling when he saw who their stunned but excited visitor was. Exactly who he wanted to talk to.
***
Wade stared at the broad back ahead of him on the river trail behind Remington’s house, marveling at the change in Graeme. He looked like he’d put on twenty pounds overnight, his skin plump and healthy-looking, his renewed strength apparent. Everything about him radiated health. Remington needed a bonus. Whatever Wade could wrangle out of the department.
The path beside the stream widened and Wade hurried abreast of Graeme again. “The sparking, why did that happen?
Graeme turned towards Wade slowly, his eyebrows pulled down heavily. “You saw me spark.”
“Two days ago. Remington was scared shitless you were going to burn the place down. He thought it meant you were dying.”
Graeme faced the path again, his shoulders tense, but he shook it off, turned his face to the trees surrounding them, and took in a deep breath. “Usually, it does.”
Wade watched him closely. “What happened?”
“I have no idea. The cat says he dinnae do anything.”
Wade chuckled. Calling felen cats was not considered politically correct and no one did it anymore. Wade wasn’t going to correct him.
The path opened up to a small clearing, with a rough-hewn bench sitting by the water. Wade made to sit there, but Graeme seemed to have too much energy to sit still. He paced, trying to look everywhere at once, taking huge draws of air in through his nose.
Wade sat and put his hands behind his head, enjoying the dragen’s display of renewed strength. They would need it. “Graeme, do you remember what happened when you came out of the Pravus?”
Graeme turned toward him. “I remember Trevor needed my blood. So did Ella’s sister. Then, it’s blurry. The last two weeks have been a blank.”
Wade spoke softly, sharing what he would not tell Remington. “You tried to crawl off into the woods. You told us not to follow you and said it was time for you to die.”
Wade hadn’t known how he expected Graeme to react, but he certainly hadn’t expected the smile that played over his lips. He cocked his head, the color in his eyes shifting in a way Wade had never seen before. “Do you have any idea how old I am?”
Wade shook his head.
“I am nine hundred and thirty-six years old.”
Wade’s mouth dropped, but before he could respond, footsteps pounded along the path they had walked. Wade scowled as Mac burst into the tiny clearing.
Mac smiled broadly at Graeme and clapped hands with him. “Fire-breath! Good to see you up and moving. Or should I call you fire-crotch? You really did a number on that poor mattress.”
Wade stood and stared at Mac, ready to bind the insensitive lummox.
But Graeme only chuckled. “Ah, Mac, I’ve missed your wit, fractionated though it may be.”
Mac stared at him for a second, then laughed and clapped him on the back and Wade relaxed. Graeme did not seem to anger easily, and for some reason he liked Mac.
Wade glowered at Mac. “I thought you were going to wait in the Jeep so you didn’t have to deal with all the cats.”
Mac shuddered and paced over the same ground Graeme had been walking a moment before. “They were staring at me, jumping up on the hood and everything! I couldn’t stay in that thing without doors.”
Graeme chuckled. “I’ve heard they like their wolven well-done, so unless you see any of them pulling out a lighter or a flint and steel, you’re probably safe.
Mac whirled on him, eyes wide, then relaxed when he saw Graeme was messing with him.
Wade stood up and approached Mac. “Sit down and shut up, ok? Graeme and I still have business and we need to be quick about it. Harlan texted me that there’s something big going down with the foxen and we need to get back to the station.”
Mac gave him puppy eyes, but did as he was told. Wade approached Graeme. “I’m afraid I know nothing about dragen. Is it normal for you to live that long?”
“Aye. Longer even. Dragen are notoriously hard to kill. Even old age never takes a foothold. I have heard stories of mated dragen living for two thousand years or more, back when there were more of us around.”
“Do you have a mate?”
Graeme looked off into the trees as if weighing his answer. “No. I am the last dragen.”
Wade dropped his head, feeling the sudden heaviness of Graeme’s emotion. “I am sorry.”
Graeme nodded. “As am I.”
Wade looked up, not wanting to ask his next question, but needing to know the answer. “I apologize if this is out of line. Do dragen have renqua?”
Graeme’s eye color shifted again and Wade stared, fascinated, hoping the dark red hues didn’t mean he was about to get flash-fried. He didn’t know the dragen well enough to know if he was finally angry, but renquas were a touchy subject for most shiften.
Graeme sighed, as if fearing where the conversation was going, choosing his words carefully. “They dinnae. Dragen were not created in the way wolven were. Rhen did not take a dragon and put a piece of herself in it, as no such creature existed. Rather, she created us out of whole cloth, in the 30th century B.C. She came across a town that Khain had attacked, where masses of humans were burning in the earth Khain was actively scorching. She beset
upon them all the power to transform into a winged, scaled creature that could resist the burning from Khain’s fire and create their own fire to fight back with. The dragen rose up en masse and battled Khain, driving him back into the Pravus. Because of certain… proclivities of the dragen, Rhen never made any more than the three hundred or so she created that day. We thrived for a short while, mating and breeding like any other, but our species was not meant to be.”
Before Wade could ask what the proclivities were, Mac snorted a laugh. “So what you’re saying is, you’re a bunch of inbred motherfuckers.”
Wade glowered at Mac but Graeme only nodded. “That’s about right.” His eyes swam with fire again. “I know what you are going to ask. Dragen fought with each other and they hunted humans if they got hungry enough, or sometimes just for fun. No. We don’t have the protection drive that you do.”
Wade nodded slowly. That could change everything.
“What about the one true mates?”
“What about them? I did not come here for a one true mate. There is not one for me. There cannot be. No female alive can withstand mating a dragen or bearing his young.”
A group of crows cawed in the distance, reminding Wade they were short on time. He had one trump card and he would play it. “May I touch you? Will you open yourself to me?”
Graeme stared at him as if he knew exactly what Wade was after. Finally, he nodded and held out his arm.
Wade steeled himself, having no idea what he would find, but trusting enough in the power given to him by Rhen after dragen were created to know there would be something.
He reached out and grasped Graeme’s wrist tightly, curling his fingers around the skin hard. He had been smart to do so, or he would have been immediately blown into the forest. The blast of emotion and knowledge that thrust into his brain caused him to stagger and bow backwards until he was standing only on his toes, his spine in danger of snapping, his head almost upside down. Nine hundred years of personality, history, insights, and experience downloaded into him as he began to tip backwards, his head in danger of smashing to the dirt at a dangerous angle.