Dragon Awakened

by Jaime Rush

  She stopped at the headline: FAMILY PERISHES AT SEA.

  This was it. To the side was a picture of all three of them, posing at what looked like a picnic. She plunged in. Her father was obviously doing well in whatever job he’d been working on—something to do with physics—as the boat was described as a yacht. The Yard certainly wouldn’t fund such a thing.

  The press played it up as another mysterious Devil’s Triangle disappearance. Investigators speculated that it was either an accidental explosion, rogue wave, or pirates.

  The family’s disappearance. It hit her then, that she was included in the missing. There was no mention of her rescue. At the time, she was Ruby Winston. Mon adopted her and, as Cyntag had pointed out, immediately changed her name for some legal reason she had never questioned.

  Because he was hiding you?

  She’d been a distraught nine-year-old and had just gone along: name change, Mon’s move into a new neighborhood, and his continuing touring, coming back to Miami every two weeks but leaving again soon after. The way he’d set up the Yard so it wasn’t in her name until she turned eighteen. It also explained why she couldn’t get her belongings or visit her friends. All those things she’d accepted and forgotten about. Until now.

  It also explained why her grandfather kept his distance, something that had always hurt. But that would mean Cyntag was telling the truth. She flipped through the follow-up articles and was even more stunned: her father painted a villain, having sabotaged the physics work he had been doing at SUNLAB. One theory was that he’d stolen his research to sell to the highest bidder. Another was that he’d gone on a rampage before taking his family to sea to their deaths.

  The man she remembered was kind and soft-spoken. Never once had she seen him lose his temper, and, God no, he wouldn’t have killed his family.

  So the alternative was…someone had killed her parents. All these horrible allegations were a setup to cover the murders.

  She sat back in the chair, feeling so cold she was shivering. How had she survived? She remembered being on the boat, the jarring thud that knocked her out. The next thing she knew, she was at Brom’s, about to get the worst news of her life.

  As she absently rubbed her neck, she realized she was still feeling the weird warmth. She searched for nearby vents. Except it was summer and the heat wouldn’t be on. Something odd prickled through her. This library branch was a small building, but it was eerily quiet. Though sunlight came through the windows near her, the interior looked dim. The electricity hadn’t gone out, or the microfiche machine would have died.

  Earlier she’d heard a couple of thumps and someone coughing violently, but now she heard nothing but a low-level hissing. She lurched to her feet. Danger bristled up the back of her neck. Her rash felt as though it was literally on fire.

  A shadow moved in the corner of her eye. She twisted to the right. Nothing. Or maybe it was something, like that creature in Cyntag’s office.

  She reached for the gun she still had tucked into her waistband, keeping it down as she walked to the middle of the library. The fluorescent panels were dark, yet lights twinkled from a computer behind the checkout desk.

  Not one person in sight. She raised the gun, ready to shoot. Something knocked it out of her hand, sending it skidding across the carpet. Something she couldn’t see.

  Hell.

  Hot breath pulsed against her neck. She spun around, banging into the end of a book aisle. The gun lay only a few feet away, but what good was the damned thing going to be if she couldn’t see what threatened her?

  You cannot see…

  The shadow moved again. She strained her eyes, trying to discern an outline, anything. It, whatever it was, shoved her. She felt pressure against her upper chest a second before she tumbled backward to the floor.

  It wasn’t small like Allander.

  A book toppled from an upper shelf, landing several feet in front of her. She scrambled to her feet, eyeing the door. Not again. As she dashed toward it, something hot pushed her from behind. She kept her balance, darting down the aisle to the checkout desk and coming to a bone-jarring halt. A man lay sprawled on the floor, his hand clutching his chest. His face was frozen in an expression of pain and shock. She knew, even without checking, that he was dead.

  The sound of metal rattling against metal pulled her attention to the front door again. Cyntag! Trying to open the door that was obviously locked. Could she really be happy to see him?

  Arms—at least that’s what they felt like—wrapped around her. She dove forward, out of the thing’s grasp. It pushed, sending her rolling across the hard, carpeted floor. Even with the room still spinning, she could see that Cyntag wasn’t at the door any longer.

  Maybe she’d imagined him. But she sure as hell wasn’t imagining this thing. No, she wasn’t that crazy. She held her hands aloft, ready for anything. Hunter/Prey. Was this what Mon had prepared her for?

  A crashing sound drew her attention to the back door flinging open. Cyntag shoved the door closed, his hard gaze on something to the right of her. Of course, he could see it. And from the expression on his face, it wasn’t good.

  She ran toward him, definitely the lesser of two evils. He moved in that preternatural way, suddenly beside her with his arm protectively across her as he faced…well, nothing.

  “Who sent you?” he asked it. “Who released you?”

  “What is it?” she whispered, though she didn’t know why. The thing could no doubt hear her.

  “Humanoid demon.”

  “What does it look like? How big is it?”

  Cyntag didn’t take his eyes from it, or where she guessed it was. “You don’t want to know.”

  “Yes, I do. Lift the Veil like you did at your office. I need to see what I’m fighting.”

  His hand slapped over her forehead. Oh, God, he was right. Just the sight of it turned her stomach. Its eyes glowed red, like the embers of hell. Its skin was a bit like the Elemental’s, only earth brown and mottled like water-stained leather. Its nails were like something out of a Freddy Krueger movie.

  Books rained down on it. Though they fell right through its body, it flinched in pain and looked up. One of those Elementals sat atop the shelf, its heart-shaped face tight with anger as it pushed down more books.

  The demon reached toward the creature, its arms stretching like rubber. The Elemental tried to duck away, but those arms looped around it and brought it down to the demon’s level. The Elemental screamed and then fell silent as the demon tore its head off with teeth as sharp as its claws. The demon dropped its body and focused on them again.

  The Elemental had been trying to help. Outrage filled her, and she tore out of Cyn’s grasp, only to lose sight of the demon that, in a moment of insanity, she thought she could make pay. Something clamped onto her sides, two hands, she guessed by the claws that dug into her. A rush of heat washed against her side as she tried to pry those hands off her. Faintly she could see the shadow of the demon only inches in front of her. Suddenly the hands released her and something came between her and the demon.

  Something big, black. With scales. Spines that fanned back over its head. And fangs like a saber-toothed tiger’s.

  The room spun as she staggered back and held on to the edge of a bookcase for support. Cyntag no longer stood there. What was there stole her breath away.

  A dragon. A friggin’ dragon.

  “Get farther back, Ruby.”

  Cyntag’s voice came from the dragon. Had it eaten him? His pants lay in a heap, his shirt tattered on the floor.

  Maybe it had.

  Blue spikes studded the dragon’s spine between two wings tucked against its back. It spun around, eyeing something behind her. She could only stare at the beast, larger than a horse. The dim light shimmered across its scales as it moved. It lunged forward, expelling sinuous black smoke. She saw the outline of the demon in the smoke, its long arms snaking toward the Dragon’s muzzle.

  The Dragon thrashed its head back a
nd forth, knocking into the rows of shelves and sending them crashing down. She was leaning against one of them, so she snapped out of her terror and moved before she went down with it.

  She felt the creepy heat again, the breath she’d been feeling since leaving Mon’s house. That thing had been with her the whole time. Fear and revulsion rolled through her. The Dragon’s head lunged toward her, freezing her as glistening fangs came close.

  Though terror should have claimed her as the dark blue eyes of the beast held her gaze, she felt a longing ache. The Dragon Prince.

  It turned, its teeth snapping at the demon that was now obviously near its tail. That tail whipped around, knocking a cart several yards away and scattering the books it had contained. The Dragon snapped at the demon that must be climbing up its back by the way the spines were bending. If only she could see the damned thing. The Dragon threw itself at another shelving unit, obviously trying to dislodge it. Suddenly, the beast’s head pulled back at a painful angle.

  Do something!

  Where was her gun? She couldn’t see it among the piles of books. Frantically she started digging through them, gratefully wrapping her fingers over the cool metal. She aimed just above the dragon. The demon felt the books when the poor creature dropped them. How about a bullet? She jerked with the release, holding strong. The bullet hit the wall a short distance away.

  Something sucked the air from her lungs, like a vacuum hose shoved down her throat. She dropped to her knees, gasping and clawing at her throat. What was the demon doing to her? Not strangling her, because she couldn’t feel its hands.

  The Dragon bumped her, throwing her to the side and ending the horrible asphyxiation. She struggled to her hands and knees, hearing the sounds of battle just out of sight. Then the roar of an explosion. A puff of black smoke rose to the ceiling. Her ears rang in the sudden silence. Who had won? Or, gawd, had they both combusted?

  Cyntag stepped into view, wearing his white pants and holding the tattered shirt. “We have to get out of here.”

  She got to her feet, scooping up her gun with shaking fingers. “You’re a…were a…” She rubbed her forehead. “I’ve gone bonkers like my grandfather.”

  Cyntag took her hand and led her through the wreckage, commenting on neither of her statements.

  She glanced back to where the Elemental had died. “Is it there? The creature who died?”

  He paused. “Yes. Its body will fade away.” He tugged her out the broken back door to where an old black Thunderbird was parked at an angle.

  “Are you all right to drive?” he asked. “You need to follow me back to the dojo. We have a lot to cover and not a lot of time to do it.”

  “I can drive. I’m crazy, not handicapped.”

  “You’re not crazy. You’re just part of the Hidden.”

  Smoke curled up from his untouched cigar as Purcell watched the demon he’d summoned get crushed. Through a scry orb, Purcell had watched Ruby go to Valeron’s dojo and then storm out a short time later. Valeron had followed and sabotaged the perfect kill opportunity. Now Purcell watched the Dragon snatch up the orb. The window through which he could watch snapped closed, leaving him in the dark room.

  Valeron was still protecting Ruby. It baffled Purcell that someone would put their life on the line for a virtual stranger. He would not even do it for someone he knew well. Taking risks for a god was a different matter, of course.

  That Fallon, Deuce god of nature, had approached Purcell for assistance was both humbling and gratifying. Most Deuces brave or desperate enough to appeal to a god had to perform a ceremony with magick-infused driftwood. In this case, a god needed him. It still awed him, even after all these years. He had failed because of Justin, but he would not let Fallon down again.

  Fallon had opened the portal to the Dark Side and made the proper introductions. He had then left the door open so Purcell could access it on his own if it became necessary. That door, like a holographic image floating in his living room, was unnerving. Purcell detested having to use it again, but demons were a weapon that could not be traced back to him. Like the scry orb, the portal was round and hovered a few feet away from him.

  The Demon Master appeared in the window. If Purcell passed him on the sidewalk, he might think the Master a surfer. His blond hair looked windblown, his skin tanned, eyes a brilliant blue. Purcell didn’t know if it was a façade or if he was a different sort of demon altogether. He had no interest in asking.

  “You’re back,” the Master said, sounding none too enthused.

  “Indeed. The demon failed, losing its life to a Dragon. I’m afraid I’m in need of more.”

  The Master showed no sadness at the loss. “How many?”

  “Three, maybe four, just to be certain. They seem to be easily defeated by this particular Dragon.”

  Purcell suffered the Master’s silence for several long moments. Finally he said, “I shall see what is available. And willing.”

  A dark shadow moved behind the Master, and a scream like nothing Purcell had ever heard pierced the air just before the window closed. Purcell knew little about the Dark Side, only that it was in a plane of existence similar to where the gods were trapped. Most Deuces did not have the courage, nor the connections, to contact the plane populated by demons and other creatures Purcell had only glimpsed in the background. It was, as the name implied, dark and flat, the way the landscape appeared during a full moon.

  Demons sometimes escaped the Dark Side on their own and roamed the Earthly plane, but most were controlled by the Master. Those that got out of control were imprisoned.

  The window opened again. Several dark faces lurked behind the Master, their silhouettes etched against the grim landscape.

  “I have four that are willing to do your bidding for some bloodlust sport. One is a harbinger.”

  “It will work into my plan.”

  “Do you agree to the Three Tenets?”

  “Yes,” Purcell said. They were his responsibility, and he would pay the price should they expose the Hidden. He would supervise them and send them back or terminate them if they broke out of his control. And third, he accepted the danger inherent in dealing with demons.

  This was the part he despised. The demons scrambled through the window, their clawed feet scratching on the wood floor as they gathered in front of him, their temporary master. The harbinger had taken the appearance of a homeless old man. The others looked as terrifying as the first one he’d taken custody of.

  “I have two targets, both Dragon.” He summoned the illusion of Cyntag’s and Ruby’s faces. “He is a powerful Obsidian. The girl is not as strong.”

  One demon narrowed its red eyes at the image of Cyntag. “He is the one who took out Sed?”

  Purcell hadn’t known the demon’s name. “Yes. He murdered your comrade. Perhaps your friend?” Better to motivate them with revenge.

  The demons laughed, a sound like someone shaking a bag of glass bottles. One said, “That asshole? We were happy to hear of his death.”

  A second one said, “But we hate Dragons even more. We don’t need revenge to juice our bloodlust.”

  Could they read his mind? Purcell pushed past that disturbing thought. “You may take them out in any way that you’d like, provided it doesn’t compromise Rule Number One. Eliminate anyone who might help them. Or gets in the way.”

  The demons nodded their understanding, releasing hisses that might be glee. Purcell brought up an image of the dojo and turned to the harbinger. “You, hang around this establishment and watch for our targets. You three, remain close and wait for my order.”

  Now for the worst part. Purcell held out his hand to form the psychic bond. Their dry hands clasped his, and he felt the tips of their claws press into his skin.

  The harbinger bared its teeth in a smile. “Till death do us part.”

  The Book of the Hidden

  The day of her eighteenth birthday dawned bright. Garnet had been here five years, with freedom to come and go within
the confines of the castle and its grand gardens. She had a nanny and teachers, the finest of meals and entertainments. The best part was that she had not seen much of the Dragon Prince, who dined with her every now and then and asked after her welfare as though he cared. The real prison was the spell he had cast upon her—the Dragon that resided within her clawing to be let out.

  A quick knock on her door startled her out of her thoughts. It was her lady-in-waiting, who looked as though she were bringing bad news.

  Gwendolyn gave her a tremulous smile. “Happy birthday, Your Highness,” she said with a bow. “It is time. The Dragon Prince has told you, yes?”

  “Told me what?”

  “That you and he are to marry today. A small ceremony, just the staff. He wishes for me to ready you.” She pulled a basket filled with flowers from behind her back. “For your hair. He loves it long, you know.”

  “No, I don’t know. I know nothing of him. Which is fine with me.”

  “You will know much after today.” Gwendolyn’s face blushed. “The stylists will be here soon, to do your hair, fit you for the dress, and make up your face. You are pretty now, but you will be a vision soon.”

  Hours later, Garnet was finally alone again. The dress was as heavy as her fate. She hardly recognized herself in the mirror’s reflection, with her curled hair adorned with petals and flashing with crystals. How would she feel when her Dragon was released? She knew little of the process, only that she would be Awakened in a ritual. Had she been born with the Dragon inside her, she would have Awakened at puberty. The prince assured her that he would personally train her to master it. He promised he would help her to find the beauty of it. Garnet highly doubted the latter.

  She wandered to her window, where she dreamed of going home. Opal flew down and landed on her finger. The dove rubbed her palm with its cheek, touching her heart with the familiar gesture.