by Silver Milan
Jett remained seated in front of her, simply staring at her.
“So?” Ariel said.
He stood. “Come with me.”
6
Jett grabbed her by the hand and led her out the rear exit of his mansion.
A dangerous looking man watched near the back door. Like Jett he had the sharp face of an aristocrat, but those features seemed harsher somehow, the eyes crueler. The guard stood almost as tall as Jett, but had a heavier bronze tan, so that his skin was almost golden. Maybe it was, on second thought.
He wore a white dress shirt that contrasted well with his skin; the sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, revealing tribal tattoos that were vaguely reminiscent of the designs inked into Jett’s forearms. The top three buttons of his shirt were open, hinting at the chiseled chest within. He’d paired distressed jeans and black leather boots with the shirt.
The jeweled hilts of two swords protruded from a sheath at his back, and at his hips two pistols were holstered on either side of his waist. He wore the tiny headset she had seen on other guards in this place.
“This is Brazen,” Jett said. “One of my White Swords.”
The man bowed slightly, inclining his head toward her.
Ariel bowed, somewhat clumsily, in return. This was a woman unused to bowing, like himself.
As Jett led her away, he caught her glancing over her shoulder at the man. “White Swords?”
“The hand-picked members of my personal guard,” he explained. “Composed of nine of my best and most loyal. They have proven themselves many times over.”
“Any vampires among them?” Ariel asked.
“Yes, there are vampire members among the White Swords,” Jett told her.
“But you just said you hand-picked the members from among your most loyal,” Ariel said. “I thought the vampires were your slaves? How can a slave be loyal?”
“You’d be surprised,” Jett said. “And as I told you earlier, they’re more prisoners of war on a contract term than slaves. But in any case, I misspoke earlier if I told you all vampires here are slaves. None of the vampires in my White Swords are, for example. Sometimes when we set free a vampire at the end of his or her term, the vampire chooses to stay. At least many of mine do. I suppose it’s because I treat them so very well—as long as they stay on my good side of course. Though there are others in Midnight, I admit, who are very cruel to their prisoners of war.”
Jett wended between the different outbuildings, past the royal corral, and across the estate grounds to a back entrance in the gold and ebony walls that enclosed his estate. The two of them emerged on a less-traveled thoroughfare and proceeded across the city.
“The buildings here are so small compared to the estates and monster mansions in the quarter behind us,” Ariel said.
“This is the Dwarf Quarter,” Jett said. “You’ll find dwarven metallurgies and smithies here.”
The tink-tink of metalworking and gem crafting filled the air.
The pair passed a smithy; in front a dwarf was hammering a large gem into a sword on an anvil. Behind him, a kiln puffed smoke into the air as an assistant poured molten metal into a mold.
“Where does the smoke go?” Ariel asked.
“An advanced ventilation system pipes the smoke out, and oxygen in,” Jett said.
“Geez, why are they making swords of all things?” Ariel asked. “You’ve got a high-tech computer system running the place, and yet you have dwarfs in the back alleys making swords. I can’t decide whether I’m still in modern times or traveled back to the middle ages.”
“Not just ordinary swords,” Jett said. “The gems imbue special abilities. You see, the dwarfs make the best weapons. Not just swords, but rifles and handguns. You haven’t fired a true rifle until you’ve gotten your hands on a dwarven rifle.”
“For some reason that sounds tacky to me,” Ariel said. “Once you’ve had dwarf, you can’t go back!”
Jett shook his head, not understanding the joke.
Soon the pair left the quarter behind and headed into one of the tunnels that led deeper into the mountain.
“Where are we going?” Ariel asked.
“You’ll see,” Jett said.
They passed more dwarfs who were chipping away at the rock with thick picks. The little people dumped the thick, gray ores they extracted into wheelbarrows beside them.
“Is this an iron mine?” Ariel asked.
“This one is, yes,” Jett replied.
“Once again I feel like I’ve gone back to the middle ages,” Ariel said. “There have to be more modern mining techniques they could be using.”
“There certainly are,” Jett said. “But tell that to the dwarfs. They claim that no machine can read the character of the ore like a dwarf can. As long as they keep producing weapons for our hoards at a reasonable speed, who am I to judge? My people certainly can’t do this work. We aren’t cut out for it.”
He took a side turn, and soon the dwarfs were left behind. Jett and Ariel advanced through the tunnel in solitude, alone save for the occasional security camera embedded in the ceiling beside the LEDs.
In about twenty minutes they neared an opening. From it, natural sunlight streamed inside; beside him, Ariel shielded her eyes.
“Wow, that seems bright compared to the LEDs in here,” Ariel said.
“We’re about to go outside,” Jett said. “The Weave preventing your transformation into a lioness will lift shortly. Ready yourself.”
As Jett neared the opening, he felt his own urge to transform rising to the surface. He wasn’t sure if it was because the Weave had fallen away, or because he was simply accustomed to transforming when he approached The Hooded Dale.
He stepped through and gazed out across the lush, tree-covered valley. It extended for several miles in every direction, and was encircled by a jutting range of gray-green mountains that formed a massive, secluded vale.
“Welcome to The Hooded Dale,” Jett said. “Where members of my kind can be themselves.”
She nodded absently. She seemed to be concentrating. Likely trying to prevent herself from transforming.
Dark shapes floated in the sky far above, circling. Some flapped, some glided. Though they were distant, even here he could discern the distinctive rush of air as the large wings cut swaths through the sky.
He glanced at Ariel. She was still at war with herself, judging from her intense expression. But then her features abruptly relaxed. She had won the battle, at least for now. Her gaze drifted to the sky, drawn by the flapping noises, and she narrowed her eyes when she spotted the dark shapes soaring past.
“What are those?” Ariel asked.
“You know what they are,” Jett said.
“Dragons?” The disbelief was obvious in her tone.
“Finally you understand,” Jett said.
“So that’s what you are,” Ariel said in wonder. “I thought the sign at the base of the trail was only figurative. But apparently not.” She stared in awe for several moments and then looked at him. “Don’t you want to join them?”
He shook his head and said, amused: “I wouldn’t want to scare you.”
“Oh, I don’t scare easily, big man,” she said. “Come on, let me see.”
Still he refused. “I’m not one to show off.”
“Really,” she said, voice oozing sarcasm. “You wear expensive clothes. You live in a gold mansion on a vast estate covered with rubied outbuildings. You have vampire slaves. And you say you’re not one to show off…”
He shrugged, but she did have a point.
“I don’t feel comfortable showing you my dragon,” he said. He wasn’t sure why. If he could never have her, why did it even matter? He supposed it felt too intimate. By transforming, he would be exposing his inner self to her. Or a part of it, anyway. And he didn’t quite feel ready for that.
“Not comfortable showing me your dragon...” Ariel said. “Why does that sound like a double entendre?”
Jett m
erely looked at her. He was barely able to hold back the smile that threatened to curve his lips.
Humor. It seems like so long since I smiled. Ah, what this woman does to me.
“Guess I just have a dirty mind,” Ariel said into the silence. She continued staring at the flying dragons. “How are they not visible for miles around? Shouldn’t the authorities be swooping in with helicopters and whatnot?”
“My kind can be seen only by those within this valley,” Jett said. “I had witches place Weaves strategically throughout the ring of mountains, shielding the area from the eyes of humans and their technology. We come here when we feel the urge to fly free, to soar among the clouds.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to transform?” Ariel said. “Because it sounds like you do.”
He glanced at her. She continued to stare at the sky; the astonished expression on her face and the little whoop of joy she made when one of the dragons somersaulted made him feel young again. He couldn’t help but reach out and hold her hand.
She glanced at the hand and then met his eyes, grinning widely. “Thank you for showing me this.”
Ariel lay alone in the bed of the guest room. The lights were off and she could barely discern the outlines of the furniture, even with her night vision.
The dragon shifter had led her back from The Hooded Dale and told her to sleep well in preparation for tomorrow’s journey. At the mansion Jett had introduced her to yet another gorgeous man, or dragon, she supposed, a member of his so-called White Swords named Flame. This too-beautiful-to-be-a-fashion-model guard had skin colored a dark, almost inhuman red. He grew a thin beard along his jaw line, and either side of his head had been shaved to match the length of that beard, with the hair spiked long and flowing on top, reminding her a little of a lit match. He wore a dark dress shirt of black and red, with ebony boots stylized with crimson streaks of fire. He carried pistols at his hips and dual swords at his back, just like the other White Sword, Brazen.
Jett had told her Flame would be responsible for guarding the hallway that led to her guest room; he warned her that Flame could see in the dark, so if she wanted to use the adjacent bathroom she should make sure she was fully clothed.
She shook her head. One more night in the underground city of Midnight, guarded by dragon shifters and vampires, and then she would be leaving it all behind to journey to the lions who had done this too her.
So far, Jett still hadn’t said what he planned to do with her once he’d taken her to those lions. Would he finally let her go? Or would she remain his prisoner for the rest of her life? Or maybe he would force her to stay with the lions. Strangely, the former didn’t bother her as much as the latter.
She considered attempting an escape. There was no compulsion or other magic holding her back. But there was the small problem of Flame. She knew that Jett had placed him there not so much to protect her, but to prevent her from sneaking out of the home, despite what he said. Even if she made it past Flame, she still had to face the profusion of vampire guards out there. Not something she wanted to try in human form. Plus with the camera systems Jett hinted were installed throughout the city, she doubted she would get very far anyway. It was too bad her inner beast was restrained, because this would have been a really good time to set her free. Then again, in a city of dragons and their vampire slaves, one lioness didn’t really stand much of a chance.
It would be far easier to escape once she was out of the subterranean city and on the way to the lion pride. The best time would be at night, when Jett slept. If he slept.
Her thoughts dwelt on him, and she found herself aching with a sudden need. She almost wanted to go to him, the beautiful man who resided somewhere inside that expensive mansion.
Except he’s not a man, she reminded herself. Her body didn’t listen. And sure, while he admits he’s attracted to me, he says being with me is forbidden. He won’t have me. Still her body ignored her.
As she remembered the fervent looks he had given her, she gave in to her feelings and imagined venturing down to his quarters and letting him kiss her passionately. He would undress her slowly, his hand exploring her body, reaching down, down…
She drifted into a deep, contented sleep.
7
Rip.
He pushed his upper body up. Blood gushed from his lower lip, spilling over his chin. Onto her tattered clothes.
“My my, what big eyes you have.”
And then he was gone, replaced by a terrible creature with a mane of black. Lips streaked with crimson. The beast’s incredible weight pinned her to the ground.
“No!”
Jaws closed around the back of her neck.
Pain unlike anything she had ever felt before.
Rip.
At first she thought it was her clothes that were ripping. But then she realized it was her own skin.
Suddenly the creature didn’t feel so heavy. She tore the beast off of her. Pinned its neck with her jaws. It escaped her grasp, and they fought in a blur.
And then she was racing through the trees, her body battered. The pain, the pain. Not just physical, but emotional.
She reached a trail that wound through the woods. She spotted a lone hiker. A man. He seemed shocked, backed away.
A man.
A man had done this too her.
Something snapped inside of her.
She leaped at the hiker, jaws open wide...
"No!" Ariel lifted her head and opened her eyes but couldn’t see through the tears. A growl rose inside of her as the lioness clawed to get out, but could not.
Then she remembered where she was. Midnight. Jett’s guest house.
She lay back. Strange, there was no pillow under her head, and the surface felt strangely hard beneath her. Had she fallen onto the floor?
Ariel blinked her eyes groggily, clearing away the blur of tears. She felt extremely tired, like she’d only slept half the night or less.
LEDs embedded in the ceiling created bright spots in her vision. She didn’t remember the roof of her bedroom being that far away. And it definitely hadn’t been made of stone.
“Where—” She sat up.
She resided on the floor of a vast, stone-walled chamber. She felt the tight grip of compulsion around her chest.
Movement drew her eye, and she spotted Gwendoline lingering among a series of stone plinths, her hands clasped behind her back.
Ariel scrambled to her feet and backed away. Her hip hit something. Turning around, she saw that it was another stone plinth, reaching to her waist. No, not a plinth, but a tomb: on top was a statue depicting a medieval knight at rest, with a sword held between hands that were clasped over his belly, the stone blade pointing toward booted feet. Large wings protruded from underneath the knight, emerging from the shoulder blade regions, and they were sculpted to wrap down the sides of the tomb. The membranous wings had no feathers, like those of the dragons she had seen in flight.
Ariel lifted her gaze and realized the other stone objects lining the chamber were tombs as well. This was a sepulcher or crypt of some kind.
“I carried you here, using compulsion to ensure you slept,” Gwendoline said nonchalantly. She was dressed in an immaculate white gown, wearing a crystalline tiara and earrings harboring large rubies. Beautiful as ever. Ariel couldn’t shake the feelings of inferiority.
“Why?” Ariel said.
“So you are aware of the gravity of the situation,” Gwendoline said. “Do not take Jett’s actions lightly. What he does for you, he would not do for any ordinary shifter. You are important to him for some reason. Though honestly, I can’t imagine what he sees in you, Lion.”
The way Gwendoline said that especially irked Ariel, and the animal abruptly growled in outrage inside of her, struggling to get out. That the lioness remained caged served only to confirm Ariel was still in Midnight City.
“So vulnerable,” Gwendoline said, approaching. “So delicate. Weak.”
Ariel pressed herself against th
e knight’s tomb, and leaned away as Gwendoline reached for her. A hot finger touched her face, so hot that at first Ariel thought it would burn her. The finger traced Ariel’s jawline, sliding down in front of her chin: it was all she could do not to bite at the digit.
Ariel finally snapped. “Don’t touch me!” She tried to bat Gwendoline’s hand aside, but her palm slammed against the flesh and didn’t move. It was like she had struck stone. Or steel.
Gwendoline smirked, but then withdrew. “Tread carefully in my presence, little one. You may have the pity of my brother, but I am not so easily swayed by a broken animal.”
Gwendoline turned her back on Ariel and retreated several paces. Ariel considered running in that moment, but where would she go? With compulsion wrapped around her chest, she wouldn’t make it very far.
Gwendoline stopped. Glancing askance, she asked: “Do you even know who Jett is?”
“Your alpha?” Ariel tried.
Gwendoline chuckled softly. “He’s more than that, dear girl. He is my king.”
“Oh,” Ariel said. King.
Gwendoline gestured around her.
“These are the tombs of the dragon knights who died since the Great Unification,” Gwendoline said. “In the Great Vampire War, and all the smaller wars fought since the tribes united.”
“The tribes…” Ariel said.
“Yes,” Gwendoline told her. “The dragons were spread across the world, far and wide. Many lived in tribes, many more lived alone in private dens. Jett and our father worked to unite all of those who resided on this continent under one rule, and our father became the first of the seven great kings. Together they built this place, Midnight City, and invited the dragons to leave their tribes and solitary dens to live here under the king’s protection.
“Jett remained in the countryside, working to gather the tribes into larger dens for their own protection, and securing the allegiance of the different shifter crews. He also acted as the emissary to the other seven kings and queens who arose across the world. After the Great Vampire War, our world-weary father abdicated the throne to Jett, leaving it up to my brother to keep the dragons of North America united, and the shifters and vampires on the continent under control. Jett has made so many sacrifices for his people. Led us in the wars. Put down revolts and infighting. He’s even married dragon women to secure the allegiance of various tribes. At one point, he had three wives.”