Dragon Void (Immortal Dragons Book 2)

by Ophelia Bell

  Iszak and Lukas appeared from another room when the scent of food became strong enough. Marcus was more comforted by their appearance than he thought he’d be, and their easy banter with Evie and their grandmother took the burden off him. He tried to sink into the background and simply enjoy what was probably one of the most amazing meals of his life while the family discussion went on around him.

  “What do you do anyway, Marcus?” Lukas asked, a playful hint of challenge in his tone. They were all intent on testing him tonight weren’t they?

  “I just finished a degree in Aeronautics. I’ve always wanted to fly. I hoped it would be commercially, but…” He let the word trail off, his throat unable to let him articulate the rest of his thought. But I love Evie too much now to fly away.

  The utter silence at the table only became apparent when he finally took another bite of food and the clink of his silverware echoed through the room. As he chewed, he stared around the table at their faces, trying to decide what each of their looks meant.

  Evie’s brothers both stared intently at Evie, who only gazed down at her plate.

  But Sofia North set her gaze directly on Marcus.

  “You seem like an intelligent young man, Marcus. Don’t fool yourself. Your call will come, just like the others. But this is not your war to fight.”

  Marcus bristled. He’d heard the liberal-minded argument over and over. While he agreed with it on the surface, he couldn’t in good conscience say no. His own countrymen were overseas dying. He owed it to them, if nothing else.

  “It may not be my war, but if I have something to offer, it’s my duty to my fellow soldiers to do so. I’d do it for them.”

  Fuck, had he just admitted he was doing it? He hadn’t even been drafted yet. Sure, he had originally planned to enlist anyway, but the argument somehow seemed hollow now that he said it.

  He continued eating in silence. No one else said a word. The delicious food he’d been eating had lost its flavor. Only the slight squeeze of Evie’s fingers on his thigh under the table gave him comfort.

  He reached down and gripped her hand, wishing fervently that they could crawl into a cave somewhere and come out only when this Godforsaken war was over. He’d abandon it for her. He’d do anything for her.

  When dinner was over, Marcus started to help clean up, but as he was about to turn on the faucet to wash the dishes, Sofia gripped his arm tightly.

  “There’s something I need to show you,” she said. “Let them finish cleaning up.”

  He nodded and followed her down a dark hallway. She kept walking to the end and flipped a switch that illuminated the entire corridor. It was filled with photographs, small and large. They had ornate and plain frames, and as he followed the path, the photos seemed to progress. The same faces appeared throughout, but different in each picture.

  More of Evie’s ancestors, he thought, though it was clear she had at least one ancestor who she took after more. Soon he saw photos of men in uniform. Some of them resembled Evie’s brothers so closely the likenesses made him shiver.

  “We’re not a family who is ignorant of war,” Sofia said. “Every single generation of this family has seen it, in one way or another. But this human war is not your war, Marcus.”

  She pulled at his arm and reached a hand up to turn his face to hers. He met her gaze and blinked, disconcerted at the colors that swirled in her irises.

  “It’s all our war,” he said by way of argument, but knew he was just making excuses.

  “Not yours, and not ours. Your war will come when the shadows fall over you and you truly believe all is lost. The darkest shadow will be your redemption, and your path to the love you seek.”

  Marcus shook his head when she stopped talking, trying to clear his disorientation. He was sure she’d been speaking another language for the last bit, but had no idea what it was. All he knew was that he’d understood every single word, and the implications sent his pulse racing.

  The woman walked away and he watched her pause at the end of the hallway, facing Evie and speaking to her softly in much the same way she’d just done with Marcus. He could hear her clearly now, but the words themselves were unintelligible. Definitely another language. He stood silent while they spoke, staring at Evie’s sepia-toned face in a photo that must have been a hundred years old.

  Evie’s small form pressed into him a few moments later, molding herself to him as though she were meant to be at his side. He slipped an arm around her and pressed his lips to the top of her head, still staring at the photograph.

  “Are you okay?” she asked softly, her voice quavering.

  “Your grandmother said…” He looked down at her and shrugged, still confused. “Honestly, I’m not really sure what she said. Just that I shouldn’t go to Vietnam. But Evie, I won’t have a choice if my number comes up.”

  She moved around to face him, resting her palms on either side of his face. Her fingers slid through his hair, making his scalp tingle, and her deep brown eyes held his gaze. He longed to hold her tight, to take comfort in her soft curves and the taste of her lips, but his heart nearly stopped when he finally registered the terrified look in her eyes.

  “Nanyo is a little bit psychic, so if she told you something, please take it seriously. She’s had visions my entire life, and they’ve always come true.”

  “What did she say to you?” he asked, lifting a hand to brush a stray tear from her cheek. “Whatever it was, it upset you for some reason.”

  “She said if I don’t keep you from leaving, you’ll die over there. Marcus, I don’t know if we’re meant to be together forever, but I don’t want to lose you now.”

  He held her tighter. “I don’t want to lose you, either.” But the call would come, he was sure of it. Whether or not he would answer it, he didn’t know anymore.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Marcus

  New York

  Spring, 1966

  Marcus had almost started to believe having Evie in his life had charmed him somehow. Months passed with no contact from the Draft Board. No ominous summons to report for induction. Her brothers, Iszak and Lukas, even seemed to warm to him finally, and the four of them had become closer. He spent more time at their house than at his own small apartment, unless he and Evie craved time to themselves.

  Oddly, her family didn’t seem to have any hang-ups about the pair of them spending the night together in Evie’s bed, which they did frequently. Even her grandmother gave him sly looks in the mornings over breakfast. He still preferred to take her home with him when he really wanted to make her sing.

  They spent Christmas together that first year, going caroling around the neighborhood, to the delight of every single household they stopped before. Evie even praised Marcus’s singing voice, which he knew was, by far, the least impressive. The Norths were the most talented musical family he’d ever known. The brothers seemed to be able to play just about any instrument they picked up. Evie usually sang, but he learned she was just as clever with a saxophone or guitar as her brothers.

  For those glorious months of their relationship, they spent nearly every day together in between Evie’s singing gigs and his own work as a charter pilot for a small Westchester airport. Life was so perfect his mind began to shift gears—to risk considering taking a bigger step and making things more permanent between them.

  Rather than go to the regular Friday evening dinner he had a standing invitation for at the North residence, he told Evie he wanted to take her out instead. He gathered his meager savings and found a jewelry shop in his neighborhood on the way home that afternoon. With the ring in his pocket, he went home to change clothes. She would come to him in just a few hours, since their favorite restaurant was in his neighborhood, so he had time.

  He hustled through his door, grabbing the mail before taking the stairs two at a time, his entire body thrumming with anxious excitement.


  It wasn’t until he was sitting on the bed, tying his shoes that he happened to glance at the scattered envelopes on his desk and his skin instantly turned to ice. On top of the stack was an unmistakably official-looking piece of mail, with an emblem in the corner that could only mean one thing. Marcus reached out a shaky hand and grasped the corner of the envelope, right over the presidential seal. He didn’t want to open it. Couldn’t open it, because that would make it all too real if he did.

  In a daze he stood and shrugged into his jacket, stuffed the envelope blindly into the inside pocket, and left the apartment. He needed to breathe for a few minutes, to try to fend off the sense of his world crashing down around him. He walked aimlessly until he found himself stumbling down the steps into the bar around the corner from his place. Without thinking he ordered three shots of bourbon and stared at his hands.

  The bartender raised an eyebrow and poured. “I’m guessing it’s not good news from the look on your face,” he said.

  Without answering, Marcus tugged the envelope from his pocket and laid it on the bar. From his other pocket he withdrew the tiny velvet box and opened it, setting it atop the envelope. The glimmering jewel in the ring seemed to mock him for letting himself be too happy.

  The bartender’s mouth tightened into a grim line and he lined up three more shot glasses. “On the house today, mate. You need this more than I need the money.”

  And as if to drive the point home, the radio behind the bar announced yet another protest and slew of men being arrested for burning their draft cards.

  “Fucking bullshit, all of it,” a slurring patron two seats down from him said. “You should take her away, if you love her. Don’t let the goddamn government tell you how to live your life. What’s it for, anyway? This ain’t our war.”

  Marcus downed another shot and glanced sidelong at the stranger. The man was older and had the look of a veteran. He was clean cut, wore a nice suit, and smelled like Old Spice, cigarette smoke, and whiskey. Of course, that last could have been the bar itself, but it was distinct enough that Marcus believed it came from him.

  The man gestured to the items Marcus had laid on the bar. “You love her, right? The worst thing you can do to love is die for anything but love. If you go over there, you’ll wind up dying for nothing. Even if you don’t die, leaving will kill what you have now. Trust me.”

  “I don’t exactly have any other options.”

  “There’s a whole world of options,” the man said. “Run away or go to jail are the top two. Jail might be better than war, but not if you care about your girl.” He paused and fished into his jacket pocket, pulling out a flimsy pamphlet which he set on the bar next to Marcus’s drink. “I found this little gem on my windshield the other day. Thought it was pretty clever and wished I’d had that option before Korea. The place sounds nice. The best part is it’s in Canada.”

  Marcus warily picked up the brochure with the photo of a smiling couple on the front, relaxed in an idyllic nature setting. “Tantric Healing,” the title read. The small logo at the bottom looked like a sword impaling the head of a dragon, which was totally at odds with the photo. It looked like a vacation brochure on the surface, but once he opened it up, the truth became clear.

  He flipped back to stare at the front again. This “Alexandria Institute” had a clever marketing scheme. They weren’t offering a vacation, but inclusion in a research program that was specifically looking for committed couples to undergo a series of psychological and physical tests over the course of a year. They would be given room and board in exchange for offering their assistance with basic upkeep of the facilities and allowing themselves to be occasionally poked and prodded for the purpose of scientific advancement—while they had sex. He and Evie had fantastic sex, and the idea of being studied while they were doing it was oddly arousing.

  The notion of running from his troubles didn’t sit quite as well with him. But if he could keep Evie in his life and avoid dying, perhaps it would be worth it.

  “This looks like a hippie commune,” Marcus commented. “But a nice one. Do you know anyone who’s gone?”

  The man shook his head. “Keep that. I don’t need it. All I know is that honor doesn’t factor in if you’re running from someone else’s problem. That war…” The man stabbed a finger at the radio. “Has nothing to do with you, me, or your girl.”

  Marcus nodded his thanks. “Can I buy you a drink?”

  “Only if you tell me about her. What’s so special you decided to decorate her with such a shiny rock?”

  Marcus smiled at the ring just before stowing it again in his pocket. He left the envelope sitting on the bar.

  “If you met her, you’d understand.”

  “Met who?” a lilting voice said from behind him. Marcus turned, sluggish from the alcohol, to see Evie standing behind him.

  “You, baby.” He smiled at her and then frowned when her worried look registered. “What’s wrong?”

  “You weren’t home when I got there. I was worried. What’s wrong? Why are you here?”

  He blinked drunkenly at her and raised another shot. “Celebrating,” he said, as if that were the best explanation.

  “Celebrating…” she said. “Celebrating what, exactly?”

  “This man here—” Marcus gestured with the full shot glass and half the liquid sloshed over his hand. He eyed it then tossed the rest into his mouth and swallowed. He pointed the empty glass at his new friend. “He’s opened my eyes.”

  Evie glanced at Marcus’s friend. Marcus struggled for a moment for an introduction before realizing he’d never gotten the man’s name. It didn’t matter now.

  “This is her,” he said. “Evie. The woman I’d die for. No… I mean, she’s the woman I live for.”

  The man turned and straightened his tailored jacket, reached out a hand to Evie, and gripped her outstretched palm, shaking it gently.

  “You are more lovely than words,” he said. “No wonder he’s so in love with you.

  Evie’s brows creased and she glanced once at Marcus before shaking the man’s hand and smiling.

  “Thank you. I…” Before she could finish her sentence, her gaze drifted to the bar and the envelope that still sat there beside the scattered shot glasses. Her hand fell out of the man’s grasp and she turned her gaze back to Marcus.

  “Is that what I think it is?” Her delicate finger pointing at the creamy white rectangle that held Marcus’s fate sealed inside.

  “Yeah… I haven’t opened it. I already know what it says, though.”

  “Oh, Marcus.” She wrapped her arms around him and he reveled in the contact. He could die happy in her embrace. He would rather die happy in her embrace than anywhere else.

  He held tight to her, dimly aware of his friend shifting off his barstool and moving away.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you came. I needed to think.”

  Evie nodded and plucked at the corner of the envelope. “Do you know what you’re going to do?”

  Her tone was pensive, hesitant to ask the real question he was sure she wanted to ask. He silently thanked her for not articulating the thing that had to be torturing her already. Would he go?

  He loved her for that. Christ, he loved her for everything, but he’d put this off long enough. He knew what was inside, but unless he opened the envelope, he’d be a blind fool who never took real action in his life. He just needed her there with him when it happened.

  Marcus let out a deep breath and picked up the envelope, ripped it open, and read the letter. Nothing in it gave him any respite from his decision. It was all exactly what he expected.

  He turned it sideways and tore it in half. Then folded the pieces together and ripped them through the center. When he was done, the letter was nothing more than a pile of fragments on the floor around them. It might be the only confetti they ever got.

/>   The ring rested heavily in his pocket, pressing against his heart. He couldn’t ask her to marry him when he was about to ask her to leave her life for another reason. He wanted her to come not because she felt obliged to join him, but because she genuinely wanted to be with him. Once they got to that beautiful place in the brochure, he’d ask.

  “We’re going to leave. Together, I hope.”

  “Why wouldn’t we be together?”

  “You have nothing to run from, Evie. I do. But if you’re not going to come with me, then I have no reason to run.”

  “Then I guess I need to go home and pack, huh?” She gave him a shaky half-smile that told him everything. Her eyes filled with tears, and all he could do was kiss her.

  She clung to him while they kissed. If they weren’t in public, he’d have made love to her as fiercely as he could, just to remind her how much he loved her.

  “Marcus, go. Pick me up tomorrow. I’ll go wherever you want us to go. As long as I’m with you, it doesn’t matter.”

  She pulled away and he clung to her hand, unwilling to lose contact with her now. She might not come back, but he had no real reason to doubt her. She’d never lied before, but there was always a first time. And this ordeal would be one to run from if she chose to run.

  “Marcus,” she said softly, “I am never letting you go. I promise I’ll go with you.”

  “Tomorrow,” he said. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  She gave him a long look and then fell into his arms again, kissing him so desperately she left him dazed when she released him, nothing more than a blur of motion when she disappeared through the doors of the bar.

  “Sounds like you have your answer,” his friend said. “Don’t disappoint her. She’s worth living for.”

  Didn’t he know it…

  Marcus threw his money on the bar and stumbled out the doors. He just hoped he was worth running away for.