Lord of the Drach

by Patti Larsen

  “I am doing Creator’s work.” Old anger stirred, then quieted. I didn’t want it anymore, the acrid tang of it in the back of my throat, the way it made my heart clench, my skin tingle.

  “You are,” he said. “And it was I who planted this idea in your psyche not so long ago. That your insistence on embracing the small problems of those around you interfered with your ability to do what needed to be done to save the Universe.” He shook his head, looking down, hands folded before him. His vast drach form was visible to me even though he wore humanoid shape, wings spread over his back like ghostly webs. “And perhaps this transition was necessary to allow you reprieve.”

  “What are you saying?” Panic woke, a feeling I hadn’t encountered in what felt like a lifetime.

  “That we are failing, Sydlynn,” he said. “And will continue to fail, I fear, without the assistance of those I drove you from.”

  So much hurt and guilt in his voice. The panic faded from me, replaced by bitter anger I thought I’d shed. It surged like a bucking horse into my chest, choking me even as I spoke.

  “A little late now,” I snapped. “I’ve made my choice.”

  He met my eyes, his sad. “So you have.”

  I didn’t get to respond, to push past the fury I hated so much, the old anger I’d thought long gone. Max turned and left me, descending from the top of the wall down the wide stone stairs and into the Stronghold.

  Only then did I notice Jiao watching. The lóng’s quiet observation used to make me uncomfortable, nervous even. But now I knew better. Understood how deeply Jiao cared, how hard it was for her to express that caring outside the slow, steady and constant pressure of her gaze.

  I approached her, embraced her. She stiffened in my arms until my presence made her relax somewhat. Her touch opened her heart to me like nothing else had ever done. The first time I embraced her and felt the depth of her emotions was an awakening for me.

  “Who would have thought,” I said with a smile as I let her go, “that you would become my closest friend?”

  Humor flickered in her eyes. “Says you.”

  I laughed and linked arms with her, leading her to the stairs. “You agree with Max?”

  Jiao sighed, barely audible, more a feeling through contact with her body than a sound. “You already know how I feel,” she said. “We’ve both walked away from the lives we knew, left behind those we loved and who loved us. My brother and sister reside still under the control of Empress Moa.” As did the rest of the handful of her people who remained in existence. Max’s supposition her race was the next evolution of drach did nothing to alleviate the fact that same race was almost extinct but for a few. “I think,” she said, “you should do what you choose to do and to hell with duty.”

  Why didn’t her firm words make me feel better?

  We parted at the dining hall, Jiao not questioning me as I bypassed the impressive room, the large number of drach taking a meal together within. She rarely questioned me, one of the reasons we got on so well. A quick visit to the kitchen for a simple plate of stew and some fresh bread were all I needed.

  I still wasn’t accustomed to the open stares, the touch of drach minds, the way their subtle awe made me feel as though I belonged and, then again, didn’t. My people did nothing to purposely make me uncomfortable, but their scrutiny and unabashed and genuine emotion still made my skin creep slightly.

  I perched in my usual place on the window sill of my quarters and watched the sun set, enjoying the simple pleasure of the meal as my mind settled. Max was wrong. This was the right choice. How could I feel so absolutely at home, at peace with myself, if he was correct? Surely Creator wouldn’t offer me this perfection of existence only to tear it away from me again?

  Surely.

  I set aside my plate and my worries and sank into the comfort of my bed, closing my eyes. I’d chosen. And I couldn’t bring myself to change my mind.

  ***

  His hazel eyes spark with green, blond hair shimmering with a hint of red as he smiles at me, full lips parting, showing off flashing white teeth. Kindness radiates from him, and sadness, though his love pours over me like a waterfall. I reach for him, unable to stop myself, fingertips almost touching, almost.

  But he’s falling away from me, tears on his cheeks, body impacting the ground below, disappearing under the dirt in an upward explosion of dark soil while he reaches for me, pale face full of regret and longing. I fall to my knees in the place where he disappeared, weeping now, my tears wetting the earth. The ground shudders under me, splits open, sending me back as an oak tree erupts from the depths and surges overhead, leaves shuddering in the air, sighing my name.

  Sighing his.

  I weep even as the ground below me splits wider, the roots of the oak tree pulling me underground, jerking me into the moist depths, smothering me with the cool pressure of earth. I smell fabric softener and feel the touch of soft cotton even as voices cry out to me, voices I know as well as my own. Who are they? The fiery one, the one of the earth with the heart of green. The cool, white one with the logical mind… they fade away as a single, crisp voice breaks through, though not the one I was expecting. Not Liam’s.

  Syd. Her desperation is obvious, clear and poignant. I open my eyes and find Alison Morgan, my dead best friend, hovering before me. Go home.

  I gape at her, heart pounding. I can’t. I just can’t. I’ve left it all behind—

  SYD. She flies backward, voice a wail as the dark swallows her. GO HOME.

  ***

  About the Author

  Everything you need to know about me is in this one statement: I’ve wanted to be a writer since I was a little girl, and now I’m doing it. How cool is that, being able to follow your dream and make it reality? I’ve tried everything from university to college, graduating the second with a journalism diploma (I sucked at telling real stories), was in an all-girl improv troupe for five glorious years (if you’ve never tried it, I highly recommend making things up as you go along as often as possible). I’ve even been in a Celtic girl band (some of our stuff is on YouTube!) and was an independent film maker. My life has been one creative thing after another—all leading me here, to writing books for a living.

  Now with multiple series in happy publication, I live on beautiful and magical Prince Edward Island (I know you’ve heard of Anne of Green Gables) with my very patient husband and six massive cats.

  I love-love-love hearing from you! You can reach me (and I promise I’ll message back) at patti@pattilarsen.com. And if you’re eager for your next dose of Patti Larsen books (usually about one release a month) come join my mailing list! All the best up and coming, giveaways, contests and, of course, my observations on the world (aren’t you just dying to know what I thinkabout everything?) all in one place: http://smarturl.it/PattiLarsenEmail.

  And now, you can find all of my work—and a fun forum to chat about my books—at www.purelyparanormalpress.com.

  Last—but not least!—I hope you enjoyed what you read! Your happiness is my happiness. And I’d love to hear just what you thought. A review where you found this book would mean the world to me—reviews feed writers more than you will ever know. So, loved it (or not so much), your honest review would make my day. Thank you!