by Willa Okati
Staring at him and shaking with nerves, Gina dragged air into her lungs. “No trouble,” she managed. “No threat. I don’t. Not anymore.”
The man gazed at her with the tiniest of smirks, as if he were a scientist regarding a barely interesting specimen on a glass slide. “Is that to say, though, that you never will?” His blink looked reptilian, as did the tilt of his head to one side. “That which is in your blood will never die. You try to suffocate it as you would smother a child with a pillow, but it persists. It is no more than a candle’s glow, but it can burst into bright flame. You lie to yourself and to others.”
“Not lying,” Gina puffed. “Just me. Ordinary.”
“Hardly.” The man reached up to stroke his cheek with a claw. “And not to me. I see you, not as Gina, but as Georgina. Yes, I see you clearly now. And what I find is... potential. I could strike you down this very moment. You are aware of this? It would be easy as pinning a butterfly to a board. But as you currently stand, there would be no glory in your defeat.”
“No -- need. Not fighting.”
The man shook his head. “Oh, yes, there will be fighting. I am the last of my kind, and you are the last of yours. When we do fight, our battle will be the stuff of legends and told for centuries. But it must be a battle worthy of record. To conquer such a puling creature would hardly be a fitting end to the sworn antipathy of our bloodlines. I crave a worthy foe to vanquish.”
He leaned back, tapping a set of talons against his stomach. “I will let you go for now, Georgina. But be prepared. I have finally found a path into your mind and your world, and I have no plans to leave either untouched. I wonder, will you be able to fight back against even the smallest of the things I can do to you?” His smile became pronounced over sharp, pointed teeth, wickedly serrated. “Go back and learn how to be a warrior again.”
He flicked one hand at her --
-- and Gina woke up, jumping halfway off her couch with a strangled scream. She stuffed her fist in her mouth on instinct, choking down the cry. Her heart beat fast as a trip hammer in the middle of her chest, and her legs shook. No one could hear her.
The urge to run for comfort was overwhelming. But who did she have? Nobody. Besides, no one could know what was wrong, what was happening. They’d think she was crazy.
But she wasn’t. Gina knew with an icy certainty she was completely sane, and her so-called “dream” had been a direct attack. What she’d been dreading for years ever since she’d put her heritage behind her for everyone’s safety.
He broke through, Gina thought frantically to herself, the words churning over and over in her mind, beating themselves into a froth. Not safe anymore. Not safe. Not safe. Not going to be safe ever again.
Whether it was the baby, the knife, or the paint across her wards, she didn’t know. But the sacred spells keeping her concealed had failed. There’d been a crack in her armor, and the thing she’d dreaded the most had slipped inside easy as breathing.
A dragon has found me.
Chapter Three
In the wake of her dream, vision, whatever, Gina’s body responded to the stress by thundering into a fit of hysterical reaction. Her breath came in short bursts, arrows of pain arced across her chest, and a sense of doom and dread pressed in around her soul.
Panic attack.
This wasn’t a new thing for her. Gina had been prescribed medicine for the condition way back... when things had first gotten bad... but her bottle had long since been emptied, and she didn’t have the money to get a refill, even if the pharmacy refrained from laughing their asses off at her for trying to fill a prescription years out of date.
She’d have to ride this out on her own.
Forcing herself to take deep, even breaths, Gina grabbed for something to hang onto and came up with one of the ratty sofa cushions. She hugged it to her chest, rocking back and forth. Her rhythm was too fast until she remembered to match it to her breathing, and then it slowly became comforting.
Her mind still raced. Maybe it was all just a genuine dream? she wondered. After getting so worked up on her way home, it would make sense for her brain to start playing tricks on her. It could have summoned up half-forgotten memories from the past and created a nightmare her psyche would have been all too susceptible to.
Ever so gradually, she started to relax. It couldn’t have been real. Just a figment of my imagination. They... dragons... didn’t attack like that, anyway. None of them had ever come after her in her head. They flew in on the solid plane like fiery comets, fully winged and horned, breathing fire in blistering gouts, and ready to use their sharp teeth to kill.
Destroy.
Vanquish.
Gina calmed down a little further. The man, the thing she’d seen in her dream, he wasn’t a dragon. Couldn’t have been. He’d looked human -- mostly -- and had spoken in clear English she could understand. The vicious lizards she’d fought once upon a time weren’t like him at all. Not to mention he’d said he was the last of the dragons, which didn’t make sense.
Easy does it, she soothed herself. It’ll be okay soon. Just rest. Relax.
Her breathing steadied out into a regular pattern, and her heart settled down in her chest. She still felt a little nauseous, but Gina put her stomach’s roiling down to the tension headache that hadn’t yet faded.
The thought of aspirin occurred to her again, but Gina’s gag reflex tripped at the thought of forcing down some powdery pills. No. At least not yet. Not when there were other things she could do and there were alternate means of relieving her stress.
In the kitchen, she heard the spattering sounds of water over-boiling in the spaghetti pot, splashing against the dented surface of her stove top. Shit.
Gina dropped her sofa cushion and struggled up, legs a bit wobbly but carrying her where she wanted to go, and made it into the kitchen. The sight of the noodle box and the half-empty bottle of sauce, thick and clumpy inside its jar, made her already uneasy stomach give a turn.
Hungry or not, no way am I eating this mess, Gina decided. She switched off the burner underneath her pot of water, careful that none of the boiling liquid splattered on her skin, and moved the pot away from the heat. For a moment, she stood basking in the radiant warmth from her stove, spreading her hands out to take away some of their chill.
Thing was, except for her hands, she didn’t feel cold anymore. Gina frowned. This wasn’t right. Her apartment was always on the chilly side since she kept the thermostat low to save money. But she was beginning to perspire inside her sweater and her legs were prickling with heat in their jeans. Her toes were still icy, but tingling, as if life were coming back into them.
Hot and cold, cold and hot. The feelings began to flash through Gina in waves, leaving her clenching her teeth with the hard freeze and fanning herself with the tidal warmth.
Could this be a leftover from the panic attack? Gina wasn’t sure. She didn’t remember hot flashes and chills from before, but at the time she’d been blocking a lot of things from her memory. It was a possibility, she supposed.
I need to peace out some more, she decided as she moved automatically to put the box of dried noodles back in her cupboard and the lumpy jar of sauce in her ancient refrigerator. Can’t handle food, can’t handle aspirin... I don’t want to go back to the couch and risk sleeping, not yet... TV? Maybe if I turn the TV on and concentrate on the evening news... no. She didn’t want to hear any reports to set her back on edge.
Taking in deep breaths again, Gina put her hands on the counter and closed her eyes tightly. There had been lessons on visualization during the few therapy visits she’d been able to make. If she tried hard enough, she could take herself away from all of this into a peaceful, happy place.
Her mind conjured up almost every woman’s fantasy, a tropical island lush with palm trees, swinging hammocks, and a clear blue sea stretching as far as the eye could see. And since it was her fantasy, Gina conjured up a fruit drink to sip, something served in a coconut shell which taste
d of the fruit, plus berries. It was cool and smooth and slid down like nectar.
Was she alone? No. She was always alone in real life. She couldn’t risk anyone’s safety by letting them get close.
But she could imagine, couldn’t she?
A man created by her mind could soothe her, give her a hand.
Years upon years ago, before she’d known better, there had been a real guy in Gina’s life. She’d dropped him when she’d abandoned her previous life, but always -- when she let herself -- she wondered what had become of him.
Still deep in her fantasy, Gina took a sip of the fruity concoction she’d envisioned and breathed, “Randall. Where are you?”
“Right here.” A large shadow settled over Gina’s torso, baking nicely in the sun. Randall’s big hand came out to brush tendrils of damp hair away from Gina’s cheeks. “I didn’t go far. I never have, not once through all these years.”
Gina gazed at him, her one and only lover, drinking in the sight of him. Tall, well over six feet, broad through the shoulders with a narrow waist and long, strong legs. He’d played football. Quarterback. But no ordinary jock, Randall. He’d had brains as well as brawn, using his sports scholarship to pay his way through a zoology degree program.
A smile tugged at her lips. Randall had always loved animals. On more than one date, they’d gone to the zoo, with Randall excitedly pointing out one exhibit and then another. But through it all, his hand had been held tightly in Gina’s, and she’d been able to cling to his warmth.
She’d trusted him with the knowledge of who she was. And he’d believed. Trusted her in turn. Stood by her side until --
“Gina, look out!”
Gina dodged a vicious swipe of the dragon’s horned tail. “Randall?” she barked, not turning around to face him.
“That was close.”
“Not close enough.” She bared her teeth. “I always win.”
Above them, the dragon let out a screech of pure wrath as it hovered, heavy wings flapping like sheets of leather.
It should have gone for Gina again or flown away.
It didn’t.
It went for Randall.
He hadn’t even had time to scream.
Gina came back to herself, tears stinging in her eyes. She’d killed the sorry son-of-a-bitch dragon, but oh, God, it’d been the last time she’d gone dragon-fighting. Putting someone in danger the way she had was unforgivable.
After making sure Randall was all right, Gina had promised herself: No more. This ends here.
And she’d walked away to become “Mary.”
The soothing fantasy she’d conjured tugged at her mind as if in patient reminder. Gina slipped back in, glad to go.
“Randall,” she said in relief, drinking in the sight of her past lover, both healthy and whole.
“Hey,” Randall replied in a comforting hush, deep voice burring from the center of his chest. His hand was gentle on her cheek. “You holding up okay?”
Gina nodded, feeling the tension ebbing away from her in a gentle, washing motion, just like the waves on the shore. She felt lithe as a gazelle, stretched out in her hammock with nothing on but the smallest of bikinis. So good to be nearly naked and free of her life, her apartment, her disconnection with the world.
Her vision of Randall seemed almost real. In Gina’s imagination, the heat of his skin felt genuine against her own. “You’ve been through a lot tonight,” he went on, still placid and soothing. “Always so careful, Gina. I remembered you as being a lot more carefree, but so much has changed since then, hasn’t it?”
Gina nodded. “I had to hide,” she confessed. “If the dragons found me, if they figured out who I was, then everyone I’d been close to was in danger. They’d taken so much already. I am the last of my family.”
“The final descendant of the Georges.” Randall stroked her hair, the light brush making Gina want to arch up into his touch. “The only person left in the world who can defeat the dragons.”
Gina couldn’t deny it, but being reminded of the fact gave her a sharp twinge of upset. “But I wouldn’t let legacy rule me. I couldn’t. I put down my spear and walked away. I’m just average now.”
“Not exactly.” Randall's rough hand tenderly cupped her head. “No matter how you try to hide things, you are what you are, Gina. You can hide for years, but the truth always comes out.”
This fantasy wasn’t exactly working out like she’d planned. Gina took a few deep breaths and sipped at her tart, tangy drink again. She wriggled her toes. “Don’t talk about those things,” she ordered her imaginary Randall. “I’m here to chill out.”
“It’s okay. We have a little time.” Randall twined one of his thick fingers in Gina’s hair. “You can’t let this go, but you can relax for a minute.”
“I can say goodbye to everything if I want. I have for years. The past doesn’t have to come back if you don’t want it to.”
Randall said nothing but shook his head with a slightly sorrowful smile. Gina ignored his expression and examined her former lover from head to toe, taking her time. She lingered over the hard body she’d once adored, the one that had braced itself over her as she parted her legs to let his hard, thick cock deep inside.
Odd. He should have appeared in her mind as he’d been when she last saw him, young and strong, but her imagination was supplying extra details. She seemed to be picturing him with a few more years on his frame, a couple of gray strands shining in his hair, and smile lines at the corners of his eyes. His brown eyes shone with warmth and compassion, though, and that hadn’t changed.
Gina reached for his hand and placed it between her breasts. “You were the only one, ever,” she told him quietly. “With you, life was good. I felt confident. I knew what I was back then, and I’d made my peace with it. Before things went bad, I was on top of the world with you.”
“You can be again.” Randall leaned over to press a kiss to the center of Gina’s forehead. He hesitated, then began to kiss the rest of her face, finishing up on her lips in a slow, chaste caress tasting of sea salt.
So real. This was all so real. Gina felt her physical body rocking with the gentle swell of the ocean, while in her mind she heard the waves rushing and felt Randall’s light touch as if he were actually there.
Gina gazed at Randall and wondered what things would have been like if they had been able to make it past the catastrophe. The one big fight with a dragon that had nearly killed him, nearly killed Gina, had sent her running away from what she’d always been taught was her destiny.
“I hope you’re happy,” she said, actually feeling the tears spring to her eyes. When she “touched” him, he was warm, his body moving with the in and out of his steady, even breaths. “I hope you found someone else when I couldn’t be there for you.”
Randall turned slightly pink, but he didn’t let go of her. “I did. Not someone you would have expected, but he’s good to me. He took me in when I needed a friend and taught me how to find the answers to all the questions I’d had.”
“He?” Gina queried. Something was definitely off with her fantasy. Randall had certainly not been gay when they were together. She laughed quietly. “You’re right. Not what I expected.”
“Would you like to meet him?” Randall chafed Gina’s hand. “He can come here if you want. And you should get to know him. Soon. We both need him to get through this.”
Gina shook her head. “There’s nothing to get through, Randall. I had a bad dream, nothing more. This here, it’s just a way to calm myself with good memories, even if my imagination is being overactive. You’re not real. I’m just imagining you, the same as I am this beach and the drink I’m holding.”
Randall’s gaze was touched with sadness. “I wish I could say you’re right, but you’re not, Gina. Georgina. You’ve hidden for so long, but the time to stay undercover is over.” He withdrew. “Gina, this is Dakarai.”
He beckoned, and to Gina’s surprise a man she’d never seen before emerged from t
he shadows of a coconut tree. She couldn’t make out many details, as if the dusky light clung to him, but there was an almost instant feeling of peace spreading out from him in pulsing beams.
“You’ll see us both for real soon,” Randall promised. “Here.” He plucked a frond from a palm branch and laid it in Gina’s open hand, curling her fingers around the green strand. “Time to go back now, Gina. Wake up.”
Gentle as a breath, Randall touched her forehead.
The beach and the hammock vanished.
Gina blinked at the sight of her dingy kitchen, feeling an odd light-headedness and sense of confusion.
“Whoa,” she murmured to herself. Those visualization exercises really worked, huh? She’d completely lost herself in the moment under the bliss of the Caribbean sun, her mind taking off and turning a simple daydream into something nearly as real as her vision -- no, dream -- of the dragon.
She let out a gusty breath and reached up to touch her forehead, testing for warmth, as the heat and cold were still rolling through her.
The rough end of something in her grasp tickled her skin.
Gina jerked her hand down to stare at a leafy frond resting against her palm. It rolled a little, as if blown by some warm tropical breeze, and felt as hot as if it had been baking in the sun.
She dropped the thing with a swallowed cry of dismay. No. No, it couldn’t be real. This was a hallucination. Her mind was out to get her, plain and simple. The palm frond didn’t exist -- she just thought it did.
Her heart gave another mighty thump beneath her ribs, the skin tightening with pain. Gina shook herself hard, like a dog after a session of jumping through puddles, and clung stubbornly to her belief that this wasn’t happening.