by Sariah Skye
"Ugh, I’m such a spaz, seriously!" I insisted, grabbing a napkin from him and dabbing at his sweatshirt with it.
He chuckled nervously as I did so. "Really…not a big deal. I do it to myself at least twice a day."
I smiled and reached up to dab at his glasses when I paused. This was the closest I had ever been to him and I had the urge to step closer. It felt…safe and warm and he smelled wonderful. Peaceful and relaxing like sandalwood and pine and… cinnamon. He forced a nervous smile and I pulled away. "Oh, sorry." I handed him the napkin and allowed him to clean off his own glasses.
"I said, don’t be sorry," he insisted. "It’s not often I get an excuse to stand next to a pretty girl." With his glasses off I could see his brown eyes sparkle. He smiled and wiped a lens on his shirt and put them back on.
I put my hand to my cheek to touch the heat that had formed and my knees began turning to jelly. I had to remind myself to stand up straight and not collapse into his form right now. I was dumbfounded. All I could do was stand there, smiling nervously. "Well…oh come on I’m sure it happens all the time." Why the hell was I so drawn to him?
He chuckled. "No…the closest I get is my brother and…the NPCs in a video game."
I gave him a look. "Your brother is pretty?"
"Uh…yeah kinda."
I let out a laugh. It helped break my nervousness so I could function; strength returning to my legs again. "So, you want coffee?"
"Um, actually, no." He paused, looked down at his shuffling feet before he looked up, pausing to find words. "I came to ask you about your tattoo."
My hand immediately went to the back of my neck, the smile fell from my face and was replaced with a look of discomfort. "My…my tattoo?" I swallowed, nervously. "Oh, ha, I got it in Norway, when I still lived there."
"Really? Because I swear I’d seen it before." The friendly, flirty look upon his face was gone. Instead his mouth was set in a straight line, his eyes boring through me suspiciously.
"This?" I squeaked. "Not this. The tattooist swore it was one of a kind."
"Yeah…yeah I’m sure it is. What does it mean?" He crossed his arms over his chest and waited for my answer.
"Who…who are you?" was all I could ask. Most of the time humans commented on my mark it was "Oh cool! Where’d you get it? So neat!" and that was it. No one ever asked me about it again.
"That depends. Who—or what—are you?" he asked.
Oh my God. He knows. Somehow, he knows.
Calm down, Leorah…he could just be another dragon from another city who’s heard of the crazy pink dragon and wants to give you crap…nothing new. Nothing you can’t handle. I took a breath and forced myself to smile. "What do you mean, what am I? What else could I be? An alien? A witch?" I scoffed, and waved him off with a laugh.
"What does it mean?" he persisted.
I backed away, towards the counter. "It’s just a design. If you have to ask, you have no idea what it is, either."
"Leorah, can I borrow you a minute?" Kit called from behind the counter.
Relieved for the distraction, I didn’t bother excusing myself and quickly joined her behind the counter. Kit's normally sunny, happy face was ridden with concern.
"Are you okay?" she whispered, pretending to show me something in our credit register. "You look pretty upset."
I looked up at her, panicked. "I…I don’t know."
Cute (Now Creepy) Coffee Guy had come up to the counter and was staring at me, looking for answers.
"Pardon us," she let out a ditzy giggle. "I screwed up on some paperwork and I need Leorah here to help me out. Give us a few minutes and I’ll make your order, okay?"
He nodded, not taking his eyes off me. "Sure, whatever you need. Is there a bathroom?"
"Of course; to the right, and down a slight hall," Kit said, with a point.
"Thanks." He paused to glance at me again, sending panicked shivers down my spine—not the nice ones when I was thinking about him earlier. But, terrified I’m-about-to-vomit shivers. Then he followed Kit’s gesture and disappeared into the bathroom.
I let out a little yelp when he was gone. "Oh my god…" I muttered to myself.
"What? What’s wrong, Leo? I almost thought you guys were hitting it off and then you started to panic. Did he say something nasty to you?" Kit questioned, putting a concerned hand on my shoulder.
"I—well…yes, I suppose he did." And I knew I had to get out of here and away from him. In the years that I’ve been in Minnesota, no one has ever said they know what I am before like that. It made me incredibly nervous to think I might have to run and start a new life somewhere, far away from this dude. Or had to go hide for a while.
Quickly I untied the apron strings behind my back and pulled it over my head, getting the neck string caught in my long brown hair in the panic. "Kit, I’m sorry but…I need to go. Call me if it gets busy but I really really need to get out of here." I never called in, never left work early (dragons rarely got sick—finally, an advantage!) but this was quite possibly life or death. I needed to leave. Normally I would have felt guilty about it but right now I could care less.
"Okay, hun…please call me and let me know what’s going on, okay?" she insisted, as I shoved the apron under the counter in a cubby area that was supposed to house books.
I nodded and grabbed my jacket and purse from another cabinet beneath the register, I yanked my keys from out of my black jeans pocket and dashed as quickly as I could out the door, with Kit yelling, "Please call me!" as I left.
I ran across the parking lot, darting another customer driving in with his Jeep and jumped into my car, thankful that I never locked it. Waiting for the Jeep to get out of my way impatiently, I back out of my parking spot and peeled out to the driveway.
I took a glance at the rearview mirror; I saw Coffee Creepy Guy waving me down in the mirror. I didn’t stop, just sped out the driveway onto the dirt road and I didn’t look back until I was on the highway.
Relieved I seemed to be the only person on the highway, I calmed down a little but as I reached down the dash to switch on the radio I noticed that my hands were shaking. I could barely touch the button to turn it on.
Dragons rarely had anything to fear; except other dragons. Besides that, maybe a broken wing and a fall when flying, or a human with a flamethrower that would hurt like hell was about all that scared us. And in all actuality if I shifted I could eat him so there was little reason to be intimidated but the thought of having to start over in a new town, find a new job, and move my cat bothered me immensely. I had grown to like it here in this small Minnesota town. It was the first time I’d felt content in my entire life and I hated to give that up.
I felt my eyes moisten and I blinked rapidly to keep the stinging tears out of my eyes. "Calm down. He probably has no idea what you are. You’re overreacting. You just need to calm down."
I didn’t know where I was headed until I decided I needed to relax. Suddenly my legs and arms felt restless and tight, like I was wearing a diving suit three sizes too small. I wouldn’t shift out involuntarily but it became very, very uncomfortable. Probably some sort of instinctual need in times of stress; as our dragons were much tougher than our human forms.
Half your panic is probably just because you haven’t shifted in a while. Yeah, that’s it. I was overreacting because my human body was anxious because the dragon needed to come out. Just for a while.
I drove about four miles down the highway and turned off on a little dirt road that actually led to a farmhouse but the land was abandoned. Turn off before you hit the driveway and drive another mile or so into the woods. It was a path overgrown by shrubs and greenery and weeds and was rarely driven on. Word had it the old farmhouse was haunted so people rarely came out here.
I glanced up in the mirror to make sure I wasn’t followed; when I was satisfied I wasn’t I parked my car right before the little path gave way to the woods and proceeded to run as fast as I could into the thicket. The ground was co
vered in leaf litter but little else; the oaks, elms and willows in the woods were so large they blocked out all sun from hitting the ground and letting anything grow.
When I reached my spot in the middle of the woods I knelt down to the ground to catch my breath. I closed my eyes and inhaled the fresh scent of the woods, of the leaves and dirt and raised my arms over me. This distressed, I couldn’t shift so I needed to calm myself first.
I sat and took several deep breaths and could feel the terror exiting my body into the ground, the earth absorbing my worries. It was a belief in human paganism that if you need a release, just ask the earth to take away your negative energy and if you believe, it will. While dragons weren't extremely religious any longer, we still had a few beliefs we stuck with and in this instance—at least the dragons in Anarach—agreed with human paganism here (after all, they are one and the same). This was something in common I had with Kit.
I felt the stillness of the ground, the coolness soothed my restless feet and legs…relieve the heavy pit in my stomach and relax my lungs. I exhaled with a sigh, and opened my eyes, standing slowly, feeling invigorated and renewed.
Now I could shift.
I glanced down at my clothes—my black jeans, flower-patterned doc marten boots and my silver lace tunic over a black camisole and groaned. I hadn’t brought anything to change into and shifting would surely rip my clothes so I had to take them off first. I started to pull the silver shirt over my head when I heard a familiar voice call out:
"Wait!"
I gasped and quickly pulled it down back over my human form and swiveled around. There he was. He had followed me. How he'd gone unnoticed by me was unclear and disturbing—he was slick indeed.
I glowered at him. "Look, buddy…you do not want to mess with me. You have no idea what I am capable of so just turn and walk away."
"No! I’m sorry I freaked you out!" He slowly inched closer to me, his palms forward in the air in a sign of surrender. "I know what you’re capable of. I know you can bite my head off—literally. I just…wanted to see for myself if you really are what I think you are?"
I crossed my arms over my chest. "And what do you think I am?"
A dreamy look spread across his face. "A powerful, magical, mythical, amazing being; and I've been looking for you all of my life."
Chapter 3
"What?" I sputtered in disbelief.
"You! I can’t believe I’ve found you! You don’t know how long we’ve been searching for one of you!" he was almost ready to burst with excitement. "For hundreds of years I and people like me have been searching for you or one of your kind and here, I’m the lucky one to actually find one of you!"
"Excuse me?" I cocked my brow at him and rolled my eyes.
"Oh," he laughed nervously. "I’m sorry. You might not be aware of what I am."
"A loopy human that just escaped the mental ward of the hospital?"
In a motion that totally surprised me, he knelt humbly down on the ground on one knee and started up at me. "I am a Knight. A knight of Ord na Draconica Dianthus." He bowed his head down. As if it explained everything.
I snorted. "What? What the hell are you talking about?"
He slowly looked up. "Loosely translated, Order of the Pink Dragon. But it sounds a lot cooler to say it like that." He looked up at me and winked.
I winced at the word dragon. So he did know what I was. But I was going to play stupid and pretend this guy was a whackjob. Which he obviously was but…
"A dragon?" I cackled wildly. "There is no such thing."
He looked up at me with a smirk. "I’m not stupid. That mark—you bear the mark of your dragon and it’s in pink. You’re a pink dragon. I have something similar."
"Coincidence. Clearly my tattooist was a liar."
"No…" he started to pull off his sweatshirt but stopped. "May I stand? So I can show you?"
I scoffed. "What the hell do I care?"
A smile crept across his face as he slowly stood and I watched as he pulled his sweatshirt over his head taking a heather gray t-shirt with it. His arms were completely covered in tattoos and Celtic symbols; I recognized most of them as symbols we used in our own dragon faiths. The tattoos covered his forearms and slightly defined biceps up to his shoulders and he had a few smaller ones on his chest. One was a triskele knot we used as a symbol for protection over his heart. I couldn’t get a closer look at the ones on his stomach. He turned around and emblazoned across his shoulders was a dragon, pink in color, flying under the moon with a rose in her mouth. He turned back around and pointed at one smaller tattoo on his pectoral muscle. It was a simple, yet distinct mark of a simple dragon in a circle, nose touching its tail all in pink. Celtic knotwork wrapped around the dragon, swooping in and out of all the curves. Again, all in pink. Almost just like mine.
I gasped. It was in fact very similar to mine. The only difference was instead of my mark being totally round, it was stretched out lengthwise more...more appearing a birthmark than a tattoo sometimes. It probably was rounder at one time but with all the shifting and growing and whatnot it sort of lost some of its cohesiveness.
"But—how?"
He turned to face me, and gave me a fascinated look as if staring at god himself. "It appeared when I was ten years old and inducted into the Order."
"Appeared?"
"Probably just like yours does, when you’re in your human form," he said knowingly.
I relented. "So you know I’m a dragon."
He smiled. "Yes, yes I know you’re a dragon. A pretty awesome one too, I'll bet."
"Ha! No, not really."
He appeared disappointed. "No? You are selling yourself short. There’s no way you are anything but amazing."
I laughed shortly. "Yeah okay. Sure. So what about this Order are you talking about?"
"Well the Ord na—Order—began years ago when dragons and humans roamed the earth together, before dragons sought refuge in your realm. There were many humans that worked in peace with the dragons and there were many that wanted to abuse the dragons’ power, especially with the rising of some very powerful empires…the Roman, the Visigoth and later the Celtic and so on. I probably don't have those empires right," he said, pausing to laugh, "but the records are sort of sketchy. But, if the power of the dragon they worked with could be harnessed, they had a much better and easier chance taking over the empire, or the kingdom. The Order was created so that we could work alongside pink dragons and keep the peace amongst our two peoples’," he explained, fiddling with his sweatshirt in his hands.
"Wait…so there were more pink dragons?"
He nodded. "Oh yeah there were just as many pink as silver and gold ones back in those days. But, after a time, people started realizing exactly what pink dragons were capable of…and they began disappearing."
"No kidding."
He smiled sympathetically. "Back in the day, pink dragons were respected for their power; other dragons envied their power and their connection to the humans; sometimes to the point of getting quite annoying I would assume. At least, that's what I have heard," he said with a wink of his eye.
I let out a loud, unintelligible noise. "Envy? Respect? Are you kidding me? There has never been any respect for me. I was shamed. I am a disgrace to my entire family!"
He appeared shocked. "Are you serious? Wow…I can’t believe that…" he trailed off. "You aren’t even aware of what you are!" This reality seemed to stun and bother him. He covered his face with his palms. When he removed him after a moment, he asked, "How many of you are there now, about?"
"How many? How many? Well there’s me. And…that’s it. The last one we know of was hundreds of years ago."
His mouth fell open. "Oh my—wow. Wow. No wonder we haven’t met up with you until now. Oh, that explains so much…" You could see in his eyes, the wheels turning in thought and realization in his head.
As he pondered, I stood there, glaring at him. "Are you going to clue me in here?"
He pulled himself
from his thoughts. "I’m sorry. I will start from the beginning. I am Gabriel O’Donnell. I am tenth generation Order knight and however—whatever it takes—I will help you. It’s what I was born for." He knelt to the ground on one knee again with a grand gesture of his arm. "If you will allow me, that is."
I snickered at his chivalrous behavior. "Oh stop, you look ridiculous."
He raised his eyes and gave me a wounded look. "Sorry but this is new to me. I don't know quite how to act."
I softened my rough expression but remained stubborn with my hands crossed over my chest. "I don’t know. Act like you normally would, I guess. How do I know this is for real? And how come we have never heard of you."
He smirked. "Oh I guarantee there are plenty of your kind who have heard of us. If you could get one to admit it to you. And was old enough. Knowledge of us kind of…fell by the wayside as we separated realms."
I considered this. "Okay…so how many are you now?"
"Just myself."
I chuckled despite myself. "So we’re both a dying breed?"
"I suppose so," he said with a laugh. "My uncle was a former member, but when I got my mark and came of age, I took his place. I always wondered why our numbers dwindled…I guess I have my answer, since there is only one of you."
"Guess so. But…why me? Why pink dragons?"
"Well of course you know that that color determines a dragon’s abilities, sometimes personalities, what element they can harness and control and influences the strength of their dragon fire. You know that."
"Yeah but I don’t breathe fire," I said with disdain, kicking my boot at a stray weed in the dirt like it was my non-ability and I could actually physically kick its ass.
"No you don’t." He smiled knowingly. "What do you do?"
I snorted. "Sparkles. Misty foggy mist stuff. And…more sparkles. Some sparks, maybe if I'm lucky. Really?" I shook my head in disappointment. "They do nothing. Nothing at all. It looks kinda pretty though, I suppose."
"And, have you ever breathed your sparkly mist at any other dragons?"
"No well—" I suddenly remembered an incident in school, when I was a young dragon. Some older dragons were harassing me and one started breathing fire at me. He was black so it was a dirty, gritty fire. I hadn’t attempted to breathe fire much except for when I was very small; before I knew better the sparkles amused me and made me and my brother giggle. Out of instinct, I breathed back at him and he instantly stopped. I was scolded by the professor and sent home for a week, until I promised never to breathe my misty stuff in school again—or ever in public—or else I would never be allowed back in school again. And I really haven’t much, because there really never seemed to be much point. "I did. Once. I got in trouble."