by Max Andren
A flash of red hazed through my mind just before I saw Cipriano’s dragon claws lash out with macabre silence to rip the good doctor’s heart right out of his chest. He collapsed, as if in slow motion—a puppet with its lead strings suddenly cut.
I looked around at the carnage then down at my most recent tormentor and finally at Cipriano. On shaking legs, I turned to face him placing the death scene at my back. He looked at me briefly with his expressive grey eyes, then bowed his dragon’s head—in apology, understanding, and vindication all at once.
I stood before Cipriano, his head still bowed, as he waited for what I would do. He held Hanley’s beating heart within his claws, an offering of sorts, for vengeance sought and justice served.
A sensation that could not be named and a compulsion that would not be denied crept through my body, consuming me like wildfire. I reached out my hand to press two of my fingers against Hanley’s beating heart. It was still warm and wet, and resonated evil from where I touched it.
Reaching out with my other hand, I placed it along Cipriano’s massive jaw and gently raised his face to mine. When our somber eyes met, I nodded my head.
He closed his claws around Hanley’s heart and crushed it with his talons, letting it fall to the ground below—unnoticed.
Compelled beyond reason, I simultaneously took my bloody fingers and wiped them across the glyph on my back. Until recently, I had no idea that it even existed. Hanley had carved the glyph into my back when I was eight years old.
“Stop, Sister. Do not!” I heard Cipriano yell through my mind.
He was too late. On some instinctual level, I knew I needed Hanley’s Druid blood for the dark magic that it contained. I didn’t want to be tied to his evil power, but this moment felt ordained.
The glyph began burning. I could feel his dark magic seeking to possess me, looking for a way to turn me from good to evil, but that would never happen. I would use his dark magic to my benefit, I would use it to find and defeat other drampires.
I would not be used. Never again!
Still not trusting my voice to work, I spoke to Cipriano with my mind and simply said, “Thank you.”
“I’m sorry you had to witness their deaths. I should have protected you from that,” he replied quietly in the same way.
“No one has protected me in a very long time and you sought justice for the wrongs perpetrated against me,” I paused to point to the faces in the windows, “and to all of them. These ‘people’ deserved to die for the atrocities they subjected us to. We were helpless and in their care. They abused us from their position of power. We had no recourse, so I’ll not mourn for them,” I replied with a definitive nod. “What will happen to all the patients left inside?”
I couldn’t stand the thought that they might suffer because of me.
“They will not be made to suffer and least of all because of you. I’ll send someone I trust to come and assist them. We will find proper treatment programs with true hospitals to care for them. Nothing like this one.”
“Thank you,” I said and collapsed where I stood.
7
The excitement of the rescue, my confinement, dying and having risen Renascent had finally proven to be too much. Luckily, Cipriano swooped me up into his dragon arms before I ever hit the damp ground.
When I awoke, a short time later, I was cradled in his human arms as he rested on the grass. I looked at him wide-eyed and slid off his lap. I was no longer comfortable with demonstrative acts of kindness. I didn’t know how to process them, as they were so far outside my usual experience of psychological and physical abuse.
“I’m really not the fainting type, but thank you for catching me.”
“Will you tell me your name?”
I didn’t want the name my adoptive parents had given me. Names had power. My parents and the doctors had stripped all the power from that one, so I had decided to choose another one for myself.
“That’s a great idea. Be Renascent—reborn—in this moment. Define yourself. Don’t be defined or confined by them.”
“Sage advice,” I told him, “it’s weird that we can talk this way, but thank you for shielding me from the other voices and their pain. I needed the break.”
“I cannot talk to everyone in this fashion. You are unique in that.”
“What are you?” I asked, then hesitantly added, “besides a dragon?”
“I’m just an old warrior on a quest to find his lost brother.”
I could easily believe that he was a warrior and a leader of people. He was tall and muscular and carried the mantle of responsibility with ease. He had grey eyes and longish dark hair that had a white streak running from his right temple.
“Those stories you so generously shared with me as I lay dying, were they all true?” I asked. They had helped me to focus on something besides the pain and my impending death.
“Yes. Just a few snapshots from my long life.”
“I loved the freedom I felt when flying over the mountains and skimming the lakes. I haven’t had that sense of joy in more years than imaginable.”
“I know, Pena. I’ve been searching for you for a while now.”
“One day blended with the next—add in all the drugs they fed me, it’s really hard to know how much time passed. But why were you searching for me?” I asked, looking around as I waited for his response.
I noticed there were piles of ash around the courtyard that hadn’t been there before. I wondered where they’d come from. Fascinated, I watched as handfuls were lifted up and carried away on a gentle wind. I looked back to Cipriano, thinking he would have answered my question by now.
“I apologize for being rude. I promise to listen to your answer,” I said, embarrassed for having been less than attentive.
“Pena, there is absolutely no reason for you to apologize. I was merely waiting to see if you would answer your own internal question about where the piles of ash had come from.”
I tilted my head to look at him and thought about what he was trying to convey. I looked around the courtyard again—to see this time. The grass was devoid of dead bodies! I swung my gaze back to Cipriano and he succinctly explained in just two words.
Dragon fire.
I nodded, that made sense, I guess, “But why?”
“We can’t justifiably rip these men apart and then leave them for normals to find.”
“Normals?” I asked, interrupting.
“Normals are what we call people without any kind of magic in their soul. They can’t shift to any other form and are stuck as humans. So in other words,” he shrugged his shoulder and said after a pause, “normal.”
“I see. So like me. I’m basically normal, except that I can hear and feel people. I don’t have magic in my soul or I would have used it long ago to escape from this hell on earth.”
“You are anything but normal, but we’ll save that for another day. For now, let’s go home.”
Home, I shook my head, I didn’t have a home.
“You do now.”
Tears clogged my throat, but would never dare to fall. I learned that lesson the hard way over the years. Never, ever let them sense your weakness or they would capitalize on it, and painfully so.
My attention was drawn to the others as they made their way over to us. There was the lone female, Ian and the two other men that looked like they could be twins.
“They are.”
I glared at Cipriano and he smiled back. First things first, I would have to learn how to keep him and the others out of my head.
“Tarrin and Tauric, along with Isabella,” he told me, by way of introduction, then continued to say, “my family by choice and yours as well, should you choose us.”
I didn’t say anything because at this point, there was nothing to say.
“Are there any belongings that you want to collect before we leave?”
“There’s nothing. I’m ready to leave whenever you are.”
Nausea was rearing its ugly
head again. I fought the need to dry heave the emptiness of my stomach. Cipriano must have sensed my struggles and told me we were leaving in a moment. He reached out to me with the blue iridescence of his calming essence. The shielding effect was so much stronger now that he was standing next to me and not an astral projection like before.
The nausea improved and for the first time in my life, I felt something other than pain and suffering. I didn’t have a name for what I felt. At a guess, I’d call it compassion and it was coming from Cipriano and the others. I had no frame of reference for how to handle the emotion and as a result, I felt squirmy and uncomfortable on the inside.
Everyone except Ian shifted into their dragon-form. He had waited so that he could place me gently upon the back of Cipriano’s dragon. I caught myself wanting to pet Cipriano and barely refrained from doing so.
His iridescent scales just begged for me to touch them. They were soft beneath my bared legs, like worn leather, not at all rough, like I thought they would be.
Once settled, Ian gave me his jacket again. I thanked him and did as he told me to, which was to hold on. Once Ian shifted, we flew away. I chose to look towards my new future, instead of back at the painful past I was leaving behind.
Flying upon Cipriano was even more exhilarating than I could’ve ever imagined. I tried to link with Mia to share it with her, but she still felt weak.
Cipriano told me he chose his family and that I could do the same. Mia would be my first choice. I projected that to her and felt a ripple of acceptance and gratitude for my choice and for sharing my flight across the pale pink sky of dawn.
After my rescue from hell, Cipriano brought me to his mansion on the outskirts of Kansas City. I wouldn’t appreciate the beauty of his home until much later. After I learned what it meant to be Renascent, who I was, and what I was meant to do.
8
I had so much to learn, but first and foremost I needed to get well and heal from my confinement in the dungeon. Malnutrition and neglect had taken its toll upon my body, though it had helped becoming Renascent.
After all, I was alive.
When we first arrived at the massive estate, I was too tired to appreciate its beauty—exhaustion pulled hard at me. I felt ready to fall sleep where I stood, but it had been a long time since I felt comfortable enough to let my guard down enough to sleep. I had to be on guard for the rats—both the two and four-legged variety.
The bedroom where Isabella brought me was beautifully decorated in varying shades of creamy yellow. It was like a bashful morning sunshine had been captured and painted upon the walls.
I loved it! Especially after weeks of darkness and years of staring at putrid green walls—walls meant to calm our supposedly unstable minds. Ha, it was the most nauseating color I had ever seen and made us all look jaundiced.
I looked down at myself and cringed. I was filthy and I stank. I don’t know how Cipriano and the others could stand being around me, let alone fly here with me on his back. At least while flying, I had air movement in my favor. I decided it was best not to touch anything.
While Isabella gathered things for my shower, I tired my best to clean the dirt and bloody remnants off my hands. I wiped them down the sides of my stained gown where the filth was likely to blend in.
Raising my hands for inspection, I quickly hid them behind my back when Isabella turned to ask me a question, but she had seen.
“Thank you for your thoughtfulness, Isabella.” I said, hoping to draw her attention away from the embarrassment of my condition. “I apologize for the mess I’m making. I’m so dirty,” I confessed, through mind speak.
“Nonsense. You are not responsible for the conditions those heathens kept you in. There’s no need to apologize for their reprehensible behavior. I’d like to rip their throats out again!” she said angrily, then tempered her tone, to say regretfully, “I’m more than sorry we weren’t able to find you sooner. We’ve looked for years, you know?” she informed me.
I shook my head.
“We have, well mostly Cipriano has. He was the one that was most able to connect with you, though we could all hear you,” she finished.
Isabella walked over to turn on the shower, though I could have done so and then left so that I could bathe in peace. She didn’t go far and stayed right outside the door just in case I should need her. She expressed her concern that I’d become overwhelmed by pain, nausea or weakness—or by the lost ones crying for mercy in my head.
Lord, I was a complete mess physically, mentally and emotionally.
I hadn’t had a proper shower in far too long and it felt heavenly. I was still cold and stood under the spray of hot water in an attempt to alleviate the chill. It had settled deep into my bones, but it would take more than hot water to relieve that particular ache.
Multiple scrubbings with soap and hot water had cleansed my skin of what felt like years of filth. If only it were that easy to cleanse my soul. So while my soul didn’t feel all shiny and new—at least I no longer felt dirty and unkempt.
Ian brought me a rich and nutritious mug of bone broth to drink. At first I was hesitant. But after he explained, it was just chicken broth that had been cooked with the bones still in the chicken to reap the nutritional benefits of the marrow, I sipped at the delicious broth knowing I needed it.
There was that word again—reap. I glanced at Cipriano who had come to see me just as I had settled into bed. As I sipped from the mug, I wondered if he would know what Hanley had been referring to.
“I do. But we will get to that later. Right now, finish your broth and then there are a few things that I would like to teach you before you go to sleep.”
I wanted to chug the broth, so he’d tell what I needed to know, but I knew if I did, I’d vomit. I was already nauseous and still had half a cup to go. We sat in companionable silence while I finished. The nausea was vastly improved and the lost were—distant.
I looked to Cipriano and saw his blue iridescence weaving around me to form a protective shield.
“Thank you,” I said and at last, finished the broth.
“You need to learn how to create your own shield so that you can protect yourself.”
I definitely needed to learn how to protect myself. Creating my own shield was just the start. I couldn’t rely on Cipriano indefinitely, so I was eager to learn whatever was necessary to accomplish that goal.
Plus, I refused to go back to another asylum. I wouldn’t go back. Not ever! I knew I wasn’t crazy, but the voices made me feel so. The key was creating my own protection, reliant on no one but myself and learn all about my new world and how to survive in it.
“That way,” he continued to say, “when you enter the dreaming, you won’t be forced astray by the voices, the lost ones as you like to call them, when they start calling out to you. I want to start the first lesson right now, even though I know you’re exhausted. It’s that important,” he told me.
“Why are the dreaming and the voices a worry?” I continued speaking to him with my mind, not trusting or willing to use my voice, “because I’m Renascent?”
“Not exactly. Though that’s part of it, but not all of it,” he said cryptically.
“Wait a minute! Am I…” My eyes flew to his face, as I watched and listened for his response, and asked in all seriousness, “am I…like a zombie or something?”
9
“Pena, I do apologize,” Cipriano said, after bursting out in laughter and shocking the hell out of me, “but the horrified look upon your face was just too much and thankfully no, you’re not a zombie. They’re vile creatures!” He exclaimed.
I rolled my eyes at him, comfortable in doing so. There was no fear of repercussions here. I trusted him, a rare thing for me. There was a sense of familiarity and a rapport that had been established during my dungeon hell. He said he had been with me longer than just that dark time and maybe he had.
Were there really zombies out there somewhere? I shook my head no.
No wa
y!
“Before we begin your lesson in shielding, I think a little history is in order. Do you think you can stay awake a little while longer?”
“Yes, I’m fine. Honest. Besides, I’ve gone days without sleeping and your stories saved my sanity. I would love to hear more of them.”
“I’ve been alive since the time of the Crusades,” he began, reminding me of what he had already shared.
I nodded and settled deeper into the covers to listen to Cipriano weave his wonderful stories. He warned me before he started that this would not be a happy story and he was right.
“My father, Laurent, had been the leader of our clan for centuries. He was away from Scotland, guarding the nobility, when my mother, Arianna had been murdered by the neighboring druid clan. I was told he knew the moment that she had died—the loss echoing through his dragon soul and he died within moments of her.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said, at a loss for something more profound to say.
“Dragons mate for life,” he explained, “and when their mate moves on to the other side, the one left behind usually follows immediately. It’s an eternal bond that has never survived the separation of death, though there have been a few exceptions.
“When a female dragon is expecting and loses her mate this can change what we know to be a universal truth. She will survive long enough to deliver her offspring, then die shortly thereafter.”
I couldn’t imagine submitting to a bond such as that—not willingly. My parents would’ve made perfect dragons, I thought to myself. They were extremely connected to each other—almost, though not entirely, to the exclusion of everything and everyone else.
I was briefly allowed within the circle of their love, too bad I couldn’t have stayed there. But in their eyes, I was defective. They couldn’t see past my oddness to the daughter that I was and not the Snow White they wanted me to be.
“As the eldest child,” Cipriano continued, “when my parents died I took my father’s place as leader of the dragon clan. But that responsibility and birthright came with heavy sacrifices, including the loss of my brothers.”