Kidnapped by the Alien Dragon

by Ward, Abella

  "Look, I don't have magic worth crap. Now get away from me before I scream. There is a neighborhood watch group. There's probably dozens of little old ladies on their phones right now, reporting you!"

  He rolled his eyes and shook his head, mouthing 'wow' in an exaggerated way. "Jumping to conclusions, much? Look at me. What about me says 'magic hunter' to you?"

  "If all magic hunters looked like magic hunters, then the police would be able to pick them up and we wouldn't have a problem," I shot back. "And then there's the whole creepy 'I've finally found you.' Something that somebody who has been hunting somebody would say."

  "Or somebody that has been looking for somebody for a long time. Say, twenty-seven years?"

  I was twenty-seven years old, and he couldn't be a day older than I was. If I had magic worth anything, I'd be able to blast him away and make a run for it, but my magic was limited to my unnatural ability to taste the emotions of the people around me.

  I somehow doubted that it would be of any use against Mr. Hunter.

  "Okay, I can see that you're paranoid now," the man grumbled, shaking his head. "I guess that makes sense, considering everything. But you have to believe me, I'm not here to hurt you. In fact, I want the opposite. You are being hunted, but not by who you think—"

  "You can stop right there." I fished my cell phone from my pocket and tried to dial 911 without looking down at it.

  My trembling hand slipped. The cell phone dropped. I dove for it. Even as I did so, the man lunged forward. He crossed the distance between us quicker than I thought possible. I opened my mouth to scream while throwing my palm up towards his nose.

  A crack of thunder deafened me. Light flashed in every direction, and dirt filled my mouth. Rocks scraped over my skin. I was caught in a vice unable to escape. The thunder cracked again and it was all gone. I stumbled, falling directly into the man's arms. He caught me, almost tenderly, and helped me to regain my feet.

  I pulled away from him, throat dry. The neighborhood and playground had both disappeared. Instead, we were in the middle of a field, with rolling hills spreading out every which way until they met emerald green mountains rising in the distance. Stone fences divided the fields, and herds of sheep baa-ed as they munched on the grass.

  "As you can see, I have no need to steal magic." He grinned at me, my hand still in his. "I have plenty of my own. Welcome to Ireland."

  Ireland?

  I turned in a circle. It certainly looked like the pictures I'd seen of Ireland. But there was a whole ocean between home and Ireland… My head spun and I had to sit down. What the crap was happening? If he wasn't a changeling hunter, what was he? And more importantly, why did he kidnap me?

  "Are you ready to hear what I have to say?" he asked, crouching beside me.

  I cast him a glare but nodded silently. How had he even brought us here? I didn't know of anybody with enough magic to transport people like this. It was my opinion that the really great witches, wizards, and other magical folk had died out years ago due to persecution. It was only within the past few decades that witch-hunting was declared a crime. Many types of magic were still illegal.

  The man settled beside me. The tart taste from before increased. Ah, so it was his emotions. That usually meant sad, but in this case, there was also something sweet mixed in, closer to happiness. First meetings always made it difficult to determine what people felt, but this was more extreme than usual.

  "Where to start?" he mused.

  "You name?" I suggested.

  The man started and laughed. "Right. I forgot. I'm just used to everybody knowing me… I am Finvarra—"

  "Finvarra?" I straightened, looking at him with renewed interest. We could have saved a lot of difficulties if he had just told me that from the start. "You mean the fairy king?"

  "King of the Daoine Sidhe," he corrected. "Not fairies. I understand your confusion, though. There is a lot of misinformation about me and my people out there."

  I gripped his wrist, my breath quickening. "Are you here to take me back home? To my real parents? Is that why you were looking for me?"

  "No."

  Disappointment hit hard. "But I'm a changeling."

  "You're not a changeling."

  My brow furrowed. "Uh, yeah I am. Ask anybody. I was even tested—"

  Finvarra shook his head. "We don't go around stealing human babies. We certainly wouldn't trade our infants for human ones. Why would we?"

  "Servants, to replace your children in the tithe of hell, because fairies don't produce breastmilk and the baby would starve without a human nursemaid – take your pick, the explanations abound."

  My heart sank even as I tried to fill my voice with sarcasm. If the king of the freaking fairies said I wasn't a changeling… that meant I wasn't a changeling, didn't it? But then what was I? I had magic, and he flat out said he'd been looking for me ever since I was born.

  "I have to be a changeling," I insisted. "Why else would you be looking for me?"

  "No. Changelings don't exist."

  I swallowed hard, looking away. My fingers curled into fists. It couldn't be. "I have to be."

  If I wasn't, then my parents had spent the last twenty-seven years wishing for a daughter that they always had. Mom already felt guilty for wishing me away and Rosemary back. How would this affect her?

  Finvarra put his hand over mine. He gazed at me with an indecipherable expression. "No. We never would trade away our own children for human babies. We have our own theories about why humans claim to have these incidents. In the past, it was not only to explain developmental issues or unexplained diseases but also to bring comfort to families that suddenly lost a child with no explanation."

  I frowned at him. He was saying what was argued by many changeling-rights activists. "And in these days, it's used as an excuse to abandon children with social disabilities like autism? Is that what you're saying?"

  "Among other things, but that’s a whole other issue." Finvarra laughed, sounding nervous, and ran his hands through his hair. "Honestly, I'm just delaying talking about the real issue here…"

  An uncomfortable twisting in my gut told me I was the 'issue' he was referring to. He had sought me out, after all. Was I half-fairy, then? Did Mom have an affair with a fairy and get pregnant?

  I plucked a blade of grass and wrapped it around my fingers, waiting for him to speak. He rested his hands on his knees, frowning at the beautiful landscape before us. I had always wanted to come to Ireland. But this was not how I wanted it to happen.

  "What do you know of the Tuatha Dé Danann?"

  I stared at him blankly.

  He rested his face in his hands for a moment. "For a world that still uses fairies and magic to explain simple scientific phenomenon, you have a lot of gaps in your knowledge. I just did a press conference last month to clear up some of the misconceptions about the sidhe."

  I had planned to watch it, but with finals, I'd been too busy. "Didn't see it."

  "If you thought you were a changeling, why didn't you pay attention to your heritage?"

  "Hey, it's not easy to have magic in this world. I've been concentrated on trying to fit in and get a job – school and everything." I narrowed my eyes. "What about the Tuatha Dé Danann? And why do you have a Canadian accent if you're an Irish fairy?"

  "Sidhe," he insisted. "And I'm not Irish. I lived in this place before the Celts. Human border names mean nothing to me. I don't even speak your language. It's magic, translating what I'm saying into what you best understand."

  Ah. That made sense.

  "As for the Tuatha, they're… they were a race that existed in these lands before me. Now you'd call them gods, basically. And among these gods were the Morrigan, three war sisters with incredible powers. One of them, Macha, was killed in the Fomorian war, but gods can't die that easily. She reincarnated into human form. And then when the form died, she was reborn once more. This has been going on for thousands of years."

  Bile crept up my throat. Maybe Mo
m was this Macha. But I knew what he was saying. If I wasn't a changeling, but I had magic…

  "You're her."

  "No." I jumped to my feet and forced myself to laugh. This could not be possible. "No, I am a brilliant student and maybe a little weird, but I'm no war goddess. Take me home."

  Finvarra scrambled to his feet. "You need time to process—"

  "Take me home!"

  The fairy – sidhe – looked sympathetic. "Okay. I'll take you home now. But just… just think about it. Your memories of your past lives are there if you look for them."

  I shook my head. No way was I believing this crazy dude. I was not a goddess. I was just plain old ordinary Nicole X. And I liked it that way. Finvarra didn't speak again as he took me home. I closed my eyes against the thunderclap of transportation.

  Once I was home, I'd forget any of this had every happened. I'd go about my life like I had before, only this time I'd be more grateful towards my parents. They loved me. I loved them. That was all I needed.

  Chapter Three

  Was I crazy?

  Everybody knew there was a strong connection between our world and Faerie, where Finvarra ruled his fairy subjects. During the early Christianization period, there had been a concentrated effort to portray the fairies as nothing more than folk talk, but Finvarra had met with the Pope early on and sorted all that out. He had remained in close contact with world powers ever since. With the digital age, he was more and more outspoken against the ill treatment of witches and magical beings, like werewolves, mermaids, and harpies.

  After he took me back home, I'd looked him up and watched dozens of news feeds about him. Humans were never permitted into his hall itself, although it seemed like he released a statement every other week to refute claims that humans had been kidnapped by fairies.

  Magic was part of life. My strain was different, strange when compared to the magic used by humans like Wiccans. But I had always assumed that it was because I was a changeling.

  But then I had the fairy king pop into the neighborhood to say that I was an ancient war goddess.

  For the next two weeks, I agonized what to tell my parents, only to decide that right now silence was the best option. Fairies were well-known to be tricksters. Everything Finvarra had told me could be a lie. Still, he said he would be back in a month when I had time to research everything. I hadn't, beyond looking him up, but I still looked forward to when he would return.

  Because I wanted answers. Not because he was hot.

  I shook my head as I waited for the bus. It was early morning, the streetlights still lit to chase away the residual darkness of night. My breath misted in the air and a heavy dew sat on everything. I always loved this time of morning. It was peaceful. Today, though, I wished I could just stay home on my computer. I hadn't dared look up the Morrigan or Macha, but I knew I'd have to soon. Mom was making fudge brownies when I left. They were just what I needed to bolster my courage and find out what my past really was.

  The bus pulled up to my stop. I gagged as I climbed on. It smelled like cigarette smoke. There were half a dozen other peoples on the bus, strange for this early in the morning, but I ignored them. They were all reading newspapers, anyway.

  When Finvarra came back, what would I do? What did he want from me, anyway? If I was this Macha reborn, what did it mean? Was Nicole X even a real person, or just a persona I'd taken on, a persona that would be destroyed if my memories came back?

  I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that I almost missed it when the bus driver turned left instead of right onto Fenning Street. I straightened, brow furrowing. Was this a new driver who didn't know the route?

  None of the other passengers reacted to the wrong turn. A chill ran down my spine. Trying to remain composed, I pressed the stop button. Two minutes later we rushed passed a bus stop with no indication to slowing.

  "I'd like to get off the bus," I called to the driver, but he didn't acknowledge me. "Hey, I want to get off the bus!"

  I got to my feet. The driver continued to ignore me.

  "Stop the bus."

  I scrambled in my pocket for my cell phone. In unison, the other passengers lowered their newspapers. I froze, eyes widening. Bile rose in my throat. Thick, leathery skin covered their bodies. Their faces were distorted, with fishlike lips and a single giant eye in the center of their foreheads. The smell of cigarette smoke increased. I backed away as the creatures stood. As they stretched their fingers towards me, I saw they were webbed.

  "Stop the bus!" I screeched as the creatures started for me. "Stop this bus right now!"

  As I spoke, I felt something stirring inside of me. A powerful beating of wings, bursting up my spine and spreading out to my fingertips. Black streaks shot from my palms. The bolts sliced through the creatures coming at me, buffeting them to either side. The smell of burning rubber filled the bus; brakes screeched as we fishtailed wildly. The beams cut out abruptly, but sparks pooled at my fingertips. When I fell against the side of the bus, trying to keep my balance, it melted away, leaving a round hole.

  I couldn’t spare any time to consider how this happened. I bolted from the bus, stumbling a little on my heels when I hit the pavement. I kicked them off as shouts rose from the bus behind me, and took off down the sidewalk. I didn't dare turn to see if they were chasing. I knew they were. My skirt clung around my knees, constricting my movement.

  The scent of an ocean breeze washed over me and I turned towards it instinctively. I could taste the bitter orange of his worry before I saw him.

  "Finvarra!"

  Wet footsteps slapped the sidewalk behind me. Claws caught my shirt, tearing it. I banked a hard right, darting into the yard between two houses. The wooden fence separating me from freedom burst apart. Wooden planks and splinters flew every way.

  Finvarra, wearing nothing but boxer shorts, leaped through the hole in the fence. A halo of fire surrounded him, his teeth bared in a snarl as he pushed his hands towards me. A wall of fire burst from his palms, heading in my direction. I didn't so much as flinch as I ran through the flames and into his waiting arms.

  "Hold onto me," he murmured in my ear.

  I clung to him, closing my eyes as bursts of color flashed all around me and thunder cracked in my ears. When I opened them again, we were in a thick forest, wide leaves filtering the sunlight green by the time it reached us.

  "There were these things," I babbled. "They were after me. If you hadn't been there—"

  "Are you hurt?"

  I gazed up into his piercing eyes and shook my head. My heart still pounded and adrenaline pumped through my blood, but I was very aware of his body. The contours of muscle under my arms. The warmth of him, my breasts squashed against his chest. He had saved me. At that moment, despite my lingering fear, I wanted him.

  As if reading my desire, Finvarra cupped my face in his hands and kissed me deeply.

  Sparks exploded in my mind, the sound of giant wings pulsing in my ears. A delighted screech filled my chest and I threw my arms around him, pushing him against a tree. I parted my lips, giggling as his tongue slipped over them, his hands clutching my hips—

  What. The. Hell?

  I yanked away from him as suddenly as I had thrown myself at him. Heat traveled up my cheeks. I backed away from the impossibly handsome sidhe, eyes widening. He grinned at me, as though we hadn't just escaped from a horde of sea-like Cyclopes.

  How did he even know where I was? Was he following me? Were those things his sidhe subjects, frightening me into using my magic?

  I used magic. Not just a little trickling of tasting emotion, but full-blown magic. I had been attacked, I used magic, and then I started making out with a complete stranger? Something was wrong with me. Something very, very wrong.

  "It's okay," he said, mistaking my silence for worry. "I've taken us to Central America. The Fomorians don’t have the magic that can bring them here. That's how we defeated them in the first place—"

  He might have magic, but he didn't see my
fist coming. It crunched against his face, sending shockwaves of pain shooting up my arm. The skin on my knuckles split open and I yelped, cradling my hand to my chest. Finvarra stumbled backward, eyes widening as he clutched his nose. Slick, red blood poured down his face.

  "Ow," he mumbled. "What did you do that for?"

  "I get attacked by those freaky looking things and you just happen to be in the area to rescue me?" I narrowed my eyes, raising both fists again. I tried to ignore the throbbing in my left hand. "Look at you, the big strong hero, rescuing the damsel in distress. You're in league with them, aren't you?"

  He groaned. "And here I thought we were making progress."

  "Finvarra…" I shook my head, disgusted at my own naivety. "You're not a fairy. You're a changeling hunter, just as I thought you were. You stole magic from other changelings, and when you saw that I didn't have magic, you put me in a situation where my magic would come out so you could steal it too!"

  Finvarra stared at me, mouth agape. One hand was clenched over his nose, though it appeared that the blood flow had already stopped flowing already. The throbbing in my own hand was lessening as well.

  Now that I had spoken my accusation aloud, though, I realized how stupid I was being. I dropped my fists and flinched. If he had spent twenty-seven years looking for me, he wasn't going to just leave once he found me. He must have been hanging around. Maybe those things that attacked me were the changeling hunters.

  "I… I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't mean it. I'm just confused. All my life I've been the weird changeling, and suddenly I'm a goddess and then you're there, all kissing me… Why did you kiss me?"

  The fairy king pulled his hand away from his nose. With a disgusted expression, he waved it through the air. All the blood disappeared, leaving behind a clean face and straight nose, as though nothing had happened.

  That magic would have been really helpful when I was going through my zit stages. I took a deep breath, ready to forget the whole kiss thing and ask what those creatures were and why they wanted me, but Finvarra ran a hand through his auburn hair. The movement flexed his muscles, reminding me that he was half-naked. My gaze took him in.