by Jade Allen
“Now, I think I’ll get this over with,” he said finally, and his voice was choked with tears. “None of you try anything funny, now. I’ll get you one at a time. Would have been better in the barn, but then you had to go and figure out my plan.” He chuckled and shook his head. “You know, it’s—”
A loud boom sounded, and the next moment, Frank was dropping toward the ground, both guns falling from his lifeless hands. Thomas blinked rapidly, trying to make sense out of the scene before him; everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. The grass fluttered beneath his body as his weight settled on it, and a dark red stain was spreading out around him, turning the soil brown and wet. His eyes finally told his brain that Frank’s head was missing—it had been torn clean off his shoulders by the lioness standing over him, wearing an expression as bewildered as the rest of the pride’s.
Susanna stared around at them with her eyes wide, panting from the effort of ripping the man’s head off. She’d gotten over to him before he realized she’d moved; but how? Before he could ask, she started speaking.
“Everything slowed down,” Susanna said numbly. “It came to me in a flash…and then it just slowed down. And I got to him before he could…” she trailed off, and her vivid green eyes filled with tears. The boom must have come from her faster-than light movement.
Natalie was crying, and Charlie wrapped his arms around his wife as she sobbed into his chest. Leslie was staring at the body, unable to pull her eyes away from the darkening red pool around his frame. Her face was bone-white, and Thomas had a feeling she wouldn’t be volunteering for any more adventures for a while.
Susanna let out a strangled sob, and Thomas felt his heart wrench in his chest even as relief started to wash into his bloodstream. “It’s okay,” Thomas said, hurrying forward and stepping over Frank’s corpse. “It’s okay. We’re safe now. You saved us.”
“We’re safe?” Susanna asked. She turned her eyes toward him quizzically and drew in a deep, shuddering breath, apparently gathering her air to speak again.
Then, for the first time ever, she fainted before he got the chance to faint first.
****
They sat together in their wicker rocking chairs every day afterward, holding hands and sipping mixed drinks while they stared at the sunset. Susanna would sometimes go out before the sunset started and sit on the grass, ripping individual blades from the soil absentmindedly until Thomas joined her. After everything that had happened, it felt nice to be able to stare blankly ahead without anticipation of anything ruining their marvelous sunset. Evan would drop by on occasion, or Natalie, but for the most part, everyone’s lives returned to their normal swing. Only Susanna and Thomas seemed frozen for a while—trapped in place like ghostly images of their former selves.
“Anything today?” he would ask as he slipped his hand into hers.
“Just normal stuff,” she would say. Or, “Kylie is going to lose her keys down a storm drain tomorrow; it’ll tie up our pride’s schedule since we’ll be down one car for the caravan.” Then they would talk about television, or black holes; anything at all that wasn’t about Sierra Leandra. Thomas kept thinking about the vacation she’d mentioned, wondering if it was closer now, or further away.
Sometimes when he spoke she wouldn’t say anything, and he knew that she was thinking about seeing Frank’s body crumple to the ground, or how close Thomas had been to being shot to death. She wouldn’t move, and it seemed like she wasn’t even breathing, so he would put an arm around her shoulders as she let her feelings spread out and float away down the gentle slope of their back yard and out over the fields, toward the fertile farmland and the promise it held.
Then she started coming to him with predictions; just weather changes at first, and then a few basketball game scores a day or more in advance. It warmed his heart immeasurably to see the twinkle in her deep green eyes as she spoke about the flash of clairvoyance excitedly, stumbling over her words in trademark Susanna fashion. Slowly, the thin layer of ice that had surrounded her since they’d been targeted started to crack and fall away. She was laughing again, and singing. She stopped hiding when their friends came over, and they all visibly reacted to the change in her demeanor. On one particularly cool evening, he sat next to her in the grass, and she turned to him with a slow smile moving across her face.
“Guess what I saw today?” she asked.
“What?” he said, expecting to hear about new horse at the stables just outside of town, or the renewal of their favorite sitcom.
“The mountains,” she answered. “Covered in snow. Beautiful peaks dusted in fluffy white flakes, three or four feet of it falling at a time. A lodge, some rum, and a fire.”
Thomas blinked, not daring to believe what he was hearing. “Where might this ski lodge be?” he asked casually.
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe Aspen? Perhaps Vermont?” She closed her eyes thoughtfully. “I’m not quite sure, but I do know there was a hot tub on the patio, which was also covered.”
Thomas turned to his mate and kissed her on the lips. When he pulled back, she giggled, and the roughened chuckle was like music to his ears. “What was that for?”
“Just because,” he answered. “Isn’t that reason enough?”
Susanna pecked him on the cheek and gazed at him dreamily, the sunset painting her skin even brighter and warmer than usual. “It’s reason enough for me.”
THE END
Fated Mate Of The Dragon Princes
Only in flight did they discover true freedom.
Although the brothers Lachan and Gabriel reigned as the crown princes of Vertania, they gladly exchanged their royal silks and lofty gold jeweled crowns for the regal beauty and divine strength of their nature made forms.
As often as possible the brothers abandoned their daily duties and took leave of their home palace; a sparkling, towering structure of mint hued domes, towers and turrets, bordered and encircled by sprawling balconies and porches and topped with a royal flag that depicted a mighty dragon king in all its mystical glory.
Assuming their form in a single smooth flourish, the brothers launched their newly morphed bodies—enchanted concoctions of majestic wings, long contoured tails, lengthy noses and gleaming eyes, and claws that cut the air before them—high into the air, looking down upon the crystalline kingdom that they called home.
The world was theirs and they knew as much; their green second skin fitting much like a king’s coat as they raced with a whisper soft bank of billowing clouds beneath a glowing golden sun.
Yet as much as the brothers savored their freedom and reveled in their singular strength, they never did lose sight of the fact that they did not rule and reign as the kings of their land. Indeed, that title belonged only to the man who occupied the throne room of their lustrous home castle.
No matter how high they ventured to fly, their mighty forms traversing the vast expanse of a pure gem green sky, they knew that the call of a single bugle could send them careening in a downward spiral in the direction of the ground beneath them, landing finally before the gold double doors that fronted their emerald castle.
Returning with frustrated sighs to their more conventional, more manageable human forms, the brothers slipped on the long bejewelled tunics and sleek black leather pantaloons that comprised their earthbound wardrobe.
Wincing as the tenor of their father’s calling bugle grew louder and louder by the moment, the brothers rushed inward into the vast tiled entryway of their grand childhood home, rushing headfirst down the long winding corridors that would take them to their father’s throne room.
Soon they found themselves crossing the arched entryway that would take them to the glowing centerpiece of their shining regal residence; a room whose walls glowed with a layer of bejeweled forest green tapestries, exquisite artworks overseen by a lush vaulted ceiling and a glimmering bank of candle-lined chandeliers.
Forming the head of this illustrious room was a velvet-cushioned golden throne, the sitting place
of a stoic silver-haired man who looked down upon his two sons with grave, concerned eyes.
“My sons,” the good King Dracor spoke finally, his loud booming voice filling the room as his sons stood just a bit straighter in response. “You missed our meeting of council this morn, an important and relevant event that passes just once per moon on the Vertanian calendar.” He paused here, leaning forward on his high seat as he continued, “Where, may I ask, were you?”
Gabriel, the golden-haired dragon, shuffled his feet beneath him as he considered this question.
“Well, dear Father,” he began, raising his golden head to look his father straight in the eyes. “We each respect and acknowledge your role as the head of this kingdom. And we trust your judgment in overseeing and administrating any and all matters of state. As such, we do not see it as our place to claim seats on the royal council, permitting our youth and inexperience to taint the font of your endless wisdom.”
Lachan had heard enough.
“We were flying!” the sable-haired prince interrupted his brother, making a broad gesture between them as he continued, “We’re nothing more than young dragons, Father, enjoying our lives and kingdom in the guise of our most natural form.”
Dracor sighed.
“As a nature made dragon myself, my sons, I know all too well the pull of the magic, the manner in which our true and natural forms constantly call out to us,” he acknowledged, stroking the strands of his long grey beard to reflective effect. “I know also, however, that I myself am no longer a dragon of youth and virility—and I am certainly not immortal. All too soon for any of our liking, dear boys, I shall be forced to retire from my place on the throne, leaving it to the two of you to rule our world and kingdom.”
The king paused here, his old withered hand gripping his forehead as he considered this most unsettling, even petrifying possibility.
“You two must prepare yourselves for the massive responsibility that awaits you on your thrones,” he informed them. “You must attend every session of our royal council, as well as our full schedule of intergalactic conferences and diplomatic ceremonies and events.”
The brothers looked at one another, then nodded.
“Yay,” they agreed as one.
The king nodded.
“Very good,” he allowed, adding quickly, “Of course, I also will expect you to study and formulate opinions about the rules and laws that govern our land. I require your thoughts on existing matters of state, as well as your plans and ideas for new programs and enterprises that could benefit our people.”
The brothers again looked at one another, then nodded.
“Yay,” they agreed as one.
The king nodded.
“Very good,” he allowed. “Of course, I also feel that the time has come for the two of you to find and wed your respective predestined mates.”
The brothers looked at one another, then shook their heads. Hard.
“Nay, Father, you must grant us more time to enjoy our youth,” Lachan insisted, his muscled arms making near desperate gestures in the air before him. “Our freedom! Oh, of course we both wish to marry and have children—to raise future kings and queens. First, however, we have so much of this world, and other worlds, to explore and discover.”
The king had heard enough.
“Lachan, just last month we celebrated the passing of your 23rd summer—and your brother, he is two years older,” he reminded them both. “It is time for both of you to commence and embrace your intended roles as the future kings of Vertania.” He paused here, adding as he pointed an authoritative finger straight in the direction of his scowling sons, “And as such, you each must find your queen.”
****
Later that day, the brothers once again found themselves ensconced in the regal confines of their father’s grand throne room; this time standing alone as they stared into the sparkling panes of a mystical crystalline orb.
Known as the Soothsayer, this inanimate object was, in reality, anything but; this owing to the currents of whirring emerald energy that radiated free and strong from its surface.
Situated as it was on a bejeweled golden stand, the luminous orb inspired awe and admiration in all that beheld its dazzling majesty.
Or, more accurately, most that beheld its dazzling majesty.
“I simply cannot believe this,” Lachan sniffed, shaking his head from side to side. “Our father insists that we employ the Soothsayer to find our destined queens; ladies that, or so said Soothsayer has told him already, just happen to reside on the Planet Earth. Yet in lieu of actually sending us to Earth, a place that we always have yearned to visit and explore and he well knows it, our father insists that we identify these women with the use of this blasted orb.” The prince paused here, adding in a confidential mumble, “Cheapskate.”
“I well heard that!” announced a regal—and, for that matter, royally ticked—voice that resounded mightily from an adjoining room.
Gabriel grinned.
“In all actuality, Lachan, I can well understand as to why our father has directed us to seek the aid of the Soothsayer in finding our mates,” he reasoned. “If we were to travel the universe in search of our intended wives, then we would find ourselves gone too long from the duties and responsibilities that bind us to this kingdom.”
Lachan shrugged.
“I suppose you’re right. And, for my part, I am most eager to see my future bride and queen,” he admitted, adding as he waved a sturdy hand in the direction of the orb, “Soothsayer, work your magic. Show us the location of our full and destined queen.”
Immediately the orb before them came alive with a certain energy, suddenly luminous with a lovely kaleidoscope of brilliant rainbow-patterned light.
Emerging from this beautiful spectrum was a sharp, defined three-dimensional image that portrayed the vision of a castle, an impressive three-tiered structure whose towers and turrets shone a surreal shade of lavender gold.
“Ah! So our princesses hail from a mystical kingdom?” Gabriel asked, tone impressed. “Somewhere in the universe?”
Lachan shook his head.
“Wait a moment,” he bid his brother, squinting confused as he strained to read the sign posted just outside the castle’s arched entrance. “This sign reads, ‘The Coffee Castle.’ And look—there seems to be a whole line of people gathering around the front entrance, entering the castle at will with no intervention from guard nor hound.”
The brothers watched in wonder as the image before them dissolved gradually from their vision, soon replaced with an aerial view of what seemed for all intents and purposes to be a grand royal dining room.
Emblazoned along its stone walls with vividly illustrated pennants that depicted steaming cups of coffee, of all things, along with more mysterious potions called cappuccinos.
Standing at the center of this clean-tiled eating space was a short, curvaceous woman who still somehow managed to stand tall behind a shiny railed bar, tossing her disheveled mane of curly brown hair free from her round, fair-skinned face.
“Okay, who here ordered the Royal Roast black coffee?” she bellowed out in a near shriek, adding with a snide smirk, “The very same beverage that I’ve apparently consumed just a bit too much of this morning?”
The brothers laughed, both falling abruptly silent as they froze in their places, their eyes flying wide as they focused on the face and figure of the woman before them.
Although not a slender wraith or any sort of conventional beauty, the woman emitted a current of energy that seemed to catch them both by surprise; a warm wave of magnetic feeling that seemed reinforced by her keen sense of humor and boundless energy.
Her energy reached forth, in fact, to grab them by the heart, flowing free through their beings as their eyes narrowed and their pulses pounded in a single accord.
“My queen.”
These words proclaimed themselves on the wings of a dulcet echo, one that arose from the brothers’ throats in the form of a sim
ultaneous declaration.
A deathly silence fell upon the chamber as Gabriel and Lachan stared at one another, shaking their heads from side to side as both seemed struck by an uncomfortable truth.
“I am sorry, brother, but this woman is the one for me,” Lachan clarified, pinning his brother with a sideways glance. “For when I beheld her, Gabriel, the pounding of my heart and the racing of my pulse told me in full the truth of the tale.”
Gabriel shook his head.
“I felt the same thing, and at exactly the same moment,” he claimed, continuing in a low hushed tone, “Could it be, dear brother, that we will be forced to compete for the hand of our one intended queen?”
Lachan sighed.
“Nay, I know not,” he demurred with a shrug. “The Soothsayer has shown us both this image, and we each near exploded the moment we saw her face.” He paused here, adding as he fixed his brother with a grim, near apologetic look, “So it appears, dear brother, that we may just have to compete for the lady’s favor.”
Gabriel frowned.
“Well, unfortunately, this may be true,” he admitted, adding as he made a broad gesture between them, “Yet how are we to curry her favor at all, when we are thousands of light years away from Earth?”
Lachan smiled, a slow, downright devilish smile that his brother knew meant trouble.
“Brother,” he admonished Gabriel in a slow languid tone. “You well know the answer to that question. I mean really, who better than a mystical dragon prince to woo a fair lady?”
****
She saw dragons in her dreams.
These mystical emerald dragons, in fact, seemed to stand and exist as the only proof that she still held within her the capacity to dream.
As a graduate student majoring in Renaissance era literature, Sarah Coleman often lost herself in the myths and legends of days gone by; timeless tales of princes and dragons, wizards and queens, that never failed to intrigue and captivate her.