by Willa Okati
Gina laughed long and loud. “History,” she said, and threw herself at her foe.
He made a choked sound as the impetus of her weight and the element of surprise knocked him off his taloned feet. Gina hung on for the ride, hands locked around the dragon man’s scaly wrists, until they hit the ground with a meaty crunch.
She was smaller, but she knew how to use her size to her advantage. Gina twined herself around him in a parody of making love, drawing still more dynamite from the memory of her joining with Randall. “What about if I kill you with kindness?”
The dragon man choked. “You reek!”
“Home-brewed love juice.” Gina rubbed herself against his scaly hide. “Finger-lickin’ good.”
He growled. “Damn you, woman! The scent of your wiggling human copulations never ends. What sort of whore have the Georges produced?”
“A damn good one, baby.” Gina kissed the dragon man on his cold blue lips despite the bitter stink of his mouth, deliberately dragging her tongue along them.
He gagged. “Such a foul stench!”
“You don’t like the bouquet, sugar?” Gina breathed into his face. “Smell me? This is what’s going to bring you down. Me, my mage, and my bodyman. They’re not here, not in the flesh, but they don’t have to be. I have a part of them inside me.” She rocked against where the dragon man’s groin would be. “You ever hear of la petite mort?”
“Enough of this!” The dragon man writhed, his strength renewed and surprising. He rolled them over so Gina lay on her back, then freed his wrists. He could have thrown her -- it would have been the smart move -- but damn, he couldn’t take any hint of an insult, could he?
Pride’s gonna getcha every time, bucko.
His eyes were inches from hers and his rotten breath streamed into her face. “You mock me with the suggestion of mating. I would never release my seed into you. It would be blasphemy.”
Gina struggled against the dragon man’s weight pinning her down. “You never know,” she managed to brazen out. “Bet I could suck the life out of you.”
“You will not have the chance.”
So I could have, Gina realized. Damn!
“It ends now. A pitiful fight after all my preparation, but I have no stomach for more.” The dragon man pressed his forearm against Gina’s neck and applied pressure. “Die, little human. The game is over.”
Gina fought to breathe. It took a long time to choke a human to death, she knew. But to knock them out? A hell of a lot less. Which meant the clock was ticking. She clawed at the dragon man’s arms, but they were hard as stone and all she got was stabs of pain as her fingernails split down to the quick.
No. It couldn’t end like this. She was not going down.
Closing her eyes against the fading room, Gina reached out with her mind and found the strands of power binding her to Dakarai and Randall. Both were thick and healthy, pulsing with strength.
She jerked on them with all her might, shouting inside her head: Get your asses down here!
A taloned hand slapped Gina’s cheek. “Look at me,” the dragon man ordered. “I want to see your eyes as the life drains out of them.”
He wanted to gloat. Gina kept her eyes firmly shut. She tried kicking with her legs, but bare feet were useless against something hard as marble.
The dragon man laughed. “How easily you die. Disappear into darkness, little George, and know I have won the fight between our kind. The last of the Georges falls to me. Me!”
“Not yet.”
The dragon man howled, arching up. His arm left Gina’s neck as he bowed backward, shrieking with rage. Gina got the hell out of the way, as far as she could go, scrabbling along the floor, rubbing her neck and shaking her head to clear the sparkles from her vision.
She looked up and laughed in glee. “You made it.”
“Wouldn’t have missed this.” Randall said from where he’d moved behind the dragon. He pulled out a gardening spade, honed to a dagger point, dripping with dark and steaming blood, then strode to her. “Dakarai figured out how to get us here. He sent me ahead to be your bodyman. To help you with weapons. He’s coming himself in just a second.”
“How?”
“Later.” Randall pushed Gina aside and brought his trowel up in a sharp jerk, piercing the dragon man’s hide under the ribs as the creature rushed them, incoherent with rage.
The two stood for a long second, the dragon man writhing on the edge of Randall’s weapon. He glared at them, diamond-shaped pupils ablaze with a diabolical light. “A good try,” he said, lips flecked with blood. “But not good enough.”
He grabbed Randall’s wrist and bent it sharply to the right. Randall gave a yell of surprise and pain over the sound of bones breaking, automatically letting go of the homemade dagger. One solid kick to the chest and Randall was down.
Down, but not out. “Gina, behind you,” Randall bellowed. She took a whip-quick look over her shoulder to see a canvas bag marked “Dakarai’s Place,” stuffed to the brim with bristling weapons.
Unfortunately, the dragon man spotted them, too. He growled and lunged at Gina again. A little knowledge was no bad thing, though. Gina spun out of his path, leaving him stumbling to a stop.
“Do not think yourself clever, human,” he warned, rounding on her with a hiss. “That dodge was a lucky move.”
Gina chortled. “I don’t think so. Catch me, catch me, if you can,” she taunted.
“You are mine,” the dragon man roared. He leaped for her again, but the blood loss was making him sloppy. He missed his grab at Gina, then slipped in his own fluids.
Gina snatched a three-tined hand rake from the bag, now beside her, and waved it in front of him. The points were keen as daggers. “Give it up, Puff. Game over.”
“You think so?” The dragon man began to glow. Light burst from his skin, rippling in waves. When he spoke, it was through a distorting mouth. “I think we’ve only just begun.”
“Shit. Down!” Gina flung herself to the floor, careful of the sharp edges of her weapon, and covered her head. “Randall!”
A mighty roar echoed through the chamber as the light reached a blinding crescendo. Gina peeked out through slitted eyelids, cursing to herself as she saw the form of the beast solidify above them.
The dragon heaved out a ball of fire which blasted a dark spot against the floor, missing Gina by inches. The ensuing heat felt like it would crisp her skin.
Okay, so this is how the story ends, she thought to herself, gathering her strength. Dragon chow. But I went out with a bang, not a whimper. And there’s glory in one last stand.
Scrambling to her feet, Gina ran hunched underneath the dragon’s belly. She jabbed up between its forelegs with her rake, hoping to find a vulnerable spot -- but the gardening tool hooked in a scaly patch and hung there like an earring. “Shit!”
The dragon chortled, each chuff filled with deadly satisfaction. He stretched out one surprisingly agile forelimb and dealt Gina a hard blow, knocking her on her back. The weight of his foot pinned her in place like a concrete beam, pressing hard enough to strain her ribs and poke holes through her bare flesh.
“You can’t keep this up,” Gina panted. “You wasted too much strength holding that other shape. You’re weak. I’ll take you down.”
He raised his chin arrogantly. “I hold my own.”
“You’ll crumble any second.”
The dragon’s eyes narrowed. “You know too much, little human. If I fall, I fall, but not before I tear out your throat and your heart.” He lowered his muzzle to nose at Gina’s neck. It was the most delicate of movements, and the most deadly. His hot, foul breath made her head spin even as she felt the edges of his fangs teasing the underside of her throat.
“This,” he whispered, voice echoing off the stone walls, “this is victory.”
“Yes.” Dakarai’s voice. “I would say so.”
The dragon snarled and turned his head in aggravation. “Did you think to take me by surprise? Fool. Wh
en her bodyman came across, I knew you had found a way through to the reality veil. It took you long enough, for all I understand your ancestors knew of the necessary arcana. They taught you poorly, or you are stupid. What did you plan, to catch me off guard by delaying the appearance between bodyman and mage? Ha! You know me ill. And now that you are here, tell me, what can you possibly do? I have her at my mercy.”
“True.” Dakarai spread his hands wide. He began to glow, the radiance emanating from the ankh he wore. “You have one woman pinned. But I have an army.”
“What trickery is this?” the dragon demanded. He pressed his foot harder against Gina’s chest. She choked, imagining she could feel things inside begin to tear and rupture. “I see no army.”
“No?” Dakarai clapped his hands together. “Look again.”
Mist plumed from nowhere, cold as the grave, filling the chamber with its curls and wreaths.
“A fog?” the dragon scoffed.
“Not exactly.” Dakarai beckoned to no one Gina could see. “Now. Come!”
The bellow of a mighty, massed force raged into their hearing. From out of the smoke, the shapes of men and women began to coalesce, each one dressed in battle armor, carrying either sword or spear or both. The heaps of dragon ash rose up into smaller beasts, their eyes glowing red with fury.
“No. How?” The dragon lifted his foot from Gina’s chest. She lay where she’d been pinned, struggling for the energy to move her arms and legs, staring in wonder at the growing army of ghostly shapes. “What magic is this? What are you doing? Who are these creatures?”
“The Georges,” Dakarai said with deadly calm. “And others who, I think, hold a grudge against you.” He tugged at his ankh. It shot out a beam of purple light. “Attack!”
The shadows swarmed the dragon, weapons slicing and teeth grabbing scaly hide. The living dragon screamed, thrashing to and fro, trying to shake off the relentless shades. No good. As soon as he bucked off one, another surged in to take its place.
Blood spattered in thick gouts, painting the floor. Gina’s dragon raised his throat, howling in pain. “No!” he roared. “I have worked too hard to be so cheated -- I have lived and breathed so long for this -- you cannot--”
“Can and will.” Gina gathered her legs beneath herself. She was shaky, aching, and bruised, but not broken. “Randall?”
He had risen, too, his tattoo gleaming with an echo of the light coming from Dakarai’s ankh. He cradled his broken wrist, but it didn’t look like he would let the injury slow him down. “Name it.”
“The best you’ve got.”
He grinned fiercely at her and moved to his sack. What he withdrew with his good hand took Gina’s breath away. It had once been a shovel, but the staff had been sawed off and the digging end honed into a deadly point. He held it out to Gina, urging her to take the thing.
No pressure necessary. Gina snatched the weapon and made for the dragon. Taking a gamble, she began to climb up the hordes of shadow figures. They supported her weight, even pushing her further up. How it was possible, she didn’t know. But Dakarai -- leave it to him, eh?
One thing she had to be sure of, though.
“Who are you?” she whispered to a massive man who offered her a hand.
He grinned, teeth flashing in a thick, bushy beard. “A George.”
Gina punched the air with her makeshift spear. Hot damn! Then, although she didn’t have the time to stop and stare, much less cry, she smiled, eyes moist, when she saw familiar faces -- her parents, brothers, and grandfather.
The dragon’s head whipped to and fro as Gina reached the top of her shadow pyramid. She could see blood leaking from the corners of his muzzle, from his nostrils, and from his eyes. But he seemed to sense her presence and stilled, those vicious colorless orbs glaring into her own.
Poising, Gina raised her weapon to strike.
“This is not how I would have this end,” he hissed, voice a bare remnant of what it had been. “I will not be bested by a woman, a human woman!”
Gina studied him briefly. “Tough luck.”
She drove the weapon home between the dragon’s eyes, strength beyond any she’d ever felt pushing the shovel deep, shattering skull bones and digging into the soft meat inside.
The dragon bellowed, tossing his head. His tail uncurled and began lashing out at the shadows, at the stones of his realm, at the army attacking him.
“Gina, down!” Randall shouted.
The final George held up his hands to give her a boost. Planting her bare toes in his wispy palm, Gina lifted off. As if she didn’t hurt at all, she tucked and rolled, somersaulting in the air and landing in a controlled ball on the floor, coming up on her feet.
She stared at the dragon, flailing in his death throes. He was slowly going under the shadows, their forms covering him in a misty blanket -- but he wasn’t dying easy. Every thrash of his tail against the walls and pillars sent down showers of masonry dust. Chunks of stone began to fall like deadly rain.
Dakarai ran to her side and took one hand. Automatically, Gina reached out for Randall with her other.
“We did it,” she said, glowing with pride.
“Georgina’s dragon is no more.” Dakarai pulled them around into a triangle, each bracing against one another’s arms. “Ready to go home?”
Gina laughed. “Does ‘home’ mean a place with you? Both of you?”
“Always,” Randall swore.
“And with me,” Dakarai promised. “It won’t be easy, but--”
“What worth having is easy?” Gina grasped their arms. “Get us out of here, mage. I want to go home and celebrate with my lovers.”
“Might want to hurry,” Randall suggested as a block of stone landed too close for comfort. “This place doesn’t look too sturdy.”
“The dragons made it their own. Invested it with their magics. Now that the last of them is gone, this particular shadow land will crumble. We must be safely back on Earth, or we, too, will be destroyed.”
Gina glanced back. The Georges had backed off, and only the dragon ghosts were left to gnaw on the soft underbelly of the beast. It bucked one last time, weakly, then lay still. “What happens to them?”
“Dust to dust. The Georges I called up will sleep again, and the spirits of the dragons will rest once they’ve had revenge, if they’re not obliterated in the fall of the shadow realm. Speaking of which, we must hurry.”
“It’s over,” she whispered. “Over.” A thought struck her and she chortled. “What the hell do I do with the rest of my life?”
Dakarai leaned in to kiss her, followed by Randall, their soft lips a counterpoint to the crashing, crumbling destruction of the chamber. “Finding out, Gina,” he said softly, “will be the fun part. There are no more dragons to fight, but I think the world can always use a heroine. There will be other battles, and we will stand by you as mage and bodyman.”
“And lovers?”
“If you’ll have us.”
“As if I wouldn’t.” Gina pulled them close, her lovers, her men. “Take us home, Dakarai. The future awaits. To the Batmobile, away!”
Dakarai hooted and Randall groaned and Gina giggled as Dakarai’s magic flooded through them and the shadow land disappeared. Gina screamed with glee as they soared through the black.
She was Georgina, last of the Dragon-Killers.
And she would be Saint Georgina, first in a line of other heroes and heroines. She and Randall and Dakarai would be the start of another legend. She knew things would start happening as soon as they touched down. Challenges, duels, sorcery... love.
Bring it on, Gina thought excitedly. I can’t wait!
Willa Okati
Although a relative newcomer to the field of e-publishing, Willa Okati has been writing since before she was old enough to pick up a pen. She thinks she knows where those dictated stories are hidden, but she'll never tell.
Willa is also very interested in the paranormal: magery, Wicca, New Age philosophy, transgender s
tudies, and of course, writing. You can drag her away from the computer if you really fight, but you'd better be prepared for a battle.
She is owned by far too many cats, all of which have serious attitudes, and addicted to anything made out of chocolate or involving coffee. She is quiet, but has a very wicked sense of humor that springs out when you least expect it.
She loves to hear from readers, and always responds. You can contact her at [email protected], or visit her website to check out her work at www.willaokati.com.