A Dragon's Heart: (Dragons of Paragon - Book 1)

by Jan Dockter

  Then, out of the murky depths of his thoughts came a whisper. Peter strained to listen, blocking out the painful sound of Ashe’s crying from the phone pressed to his ear. The whisper was frustratingly far away, like a dog whistle just above the range of human hearing. He could feel its vibrations, but could not hear what it was saying.

  “I don’t love you,” Ashe sobbed into the phone.

  Peter only half-registered it, his mind still hung up on the phantom signals. “Wait,” he said. “Don’t say anything.”

  “But it’s true,” Ashe sobbed harder. “You have to believe me. Please.”

  The voice in Peter’s head was getting clearer, fighting its way through the conflicting noise. Peter gunned the car engine faster, only paying the minimum attention to the scenery whipping by as he fought his breaking heart with every word Ashe said.

  “Please, Peter. You have to believe me. I said I don’t love you. I never loved you.” Ashe’s voice was desperate as she shouted for him to reply, but the signal in Peter’s brain started to overpower her spoken words.

  I love you Peter. I always loved you.

  Peter nearly dropped his phone. The words sounded the same as they had in the wood. He tried to send a message back.

  I know, he thought back.

  Ashe’s crying on the phone abruptly stopped.

  “Are you there?” Peter asked out loud.

  “I—I—”

  Someone’s there with you, aren’t they? Peter thought. They’re making you say these things to me.

  Peter? Is it really you?

  Yes, and I’m on my way. Where are you?

  You can read minds?

  No, I don’t know. This is the first time. But I heard you calling for me. I knew you were in danger. Just tell me where you are.

  I’m at your house.

  Who’s with you?

  Penelope.

  Hearing that name was like a stake through his heart. Peter couldn’t even keep Ashe safe from his own family. He couldn’t believe his own sister would do something like this to the woman he loved.

  Peter realized that the phone had been silent for far too long. If Penelope was there listening, she would start to grow suspicious. He forced himself to speak aloud.

  “It’s okay, I get it. I never should have thought we could be together. I was stupid.”

  He heard Ashe’s voice in his mind. I’m so sorry for what I said, but I had to.

  I know. It’s okay, he replied. I love you.

  “I guess this is goodbye, then,” Peter said into the phone.

  I love you too, Ashe replied.

  The steady drip of blood into the jar was the only sound in the house. It punctuated the seconds, reminding Ashe just how precious her time really was. She was lying on the sofa with one pale arm hanging off the edge, her fingers barely grazing the floor. From the inside of her elbow, a thin tube trailed across the floor like a snake until it met up with a large glass jar sitting on the coffee table. Her whole body ached as though she had just run a marathon; she was having trouble drawing even breaths. Her vision swam as she glanced down at the glass jar on the low table beside her. It was nearly half full. At least the pain had gone away, the cuts inflicted on her by Penelope’s razor a fuzzy memory in Ashe’s mind.

  The only thing that allowed Ashe to keep her tenuous grasp on consciousness was the echo of Peter’s words in her mind. He was coming to get her and she had to stay strong for him. She couldn’t give up hope.

  “I learned this technique from a friend,” Penelope said, checking that the stopper on the jar, through which the tube fed, was secured tightly. “This kind of bloodletting can be used intermittently for weeks if the victim is strong and given time to rest in between. Fortunately for you I don’t have that luxury this time around. I have to get rid of you by the time the others wake.”

  Ashe felt like her ears had been stuffed with cotton and Penelope’s words sounded muffled.

  Hurry Peter.

  Ashe tried to project her message as she had earlier, but her mind was too weak from the blood loss to fix on any one thought for too long. She didn’t know if Peter’s telepathy could reach her mind without any effort on her part, but she hadn’t heard anything from him since their phone call. Her hope that he would get there in time was draining with every drop of blood that filled the jar.

  “The way you broke Peter’s heart was just delightful, by the way,” Penelope crooned. She licked her red-tinged lips. “And the note you leave when you run away from home will be just as good. No one will ever suspect that you’re actually buried somewhere outside of town in an unmarked grave.”

  She pinched the thin rubber tube leading from the inside of Ashe’s elbow to the jar, which now was half-filled with blood, and removed the stopper from the jar. Ashe felt momentary relief as the flow of blood from her body stopped. She wondered if Penelope was done with her for now. With the snow, it was impossible to tell how late in the evening it was, but it couldn’t be long before the rest of Peter’s family woke. Even if Penelope was letting her rest now, her time would be up soon enough if Peter didn’t get here.

  “Does that feel better?” Penelope smiled her razor smile.

  Ashe muttered weakly and closed her eyes. She needed a few moments to rest, that was all, but she wouldn’t let herself fall asleep. Somehow she knew that if she fell asleep now, there would be no waking up again.

  “You might think I’m evil for what I’m doing to you, but I’m not. What I’m doing to you is only in my nature. But of course you already understand this to some degree.”

  Ashe felt a tugging on the needle in her arm then a strong feeling of vertigo.

  “You allowed your father to continue his important work for our family. You even tried to forgive me for my sin of biting you. But what you fail to comprehend is that our hunger is not meant to be controlled or managed like some chronic disease that eats away at an otherwise healthy body.”

  Ashe’s ears thudded then rang in a single eerie pitch. She opened her eyes to see what Penelope was doing to her, but black spots obscured her vision. They spread over Ashe’s vision like mold, making her sick to her stomach.

  “Our vampirism is what gives us our power. It’s our deepest essence. You accepted us despite what we are, not because of it. You may think in your stupid little head that you love my brother but what you feel is not true love. You can never love him completely because deep down you’re revolted by the fact that he lives of the blood of human beings.”

  Intense pain shot down Ashe’s arm and her skin began to tingle with the loss of feeling. With shock she realized what Penelope was doing. She was drinking directly from Ashe’s artery.

  Ashe willed herself to move but her body refused to respond. She managed to lift her head a few inches off the sofa cushion, but consciousness threatened to escape her for good this time. She let her head fall back down with a thud. Her eyes were useless in her head as the darkness consumed her.

  She was dying and Peter wasn’t there to save her.

  CHAPTER 6

  Peter drove the car right up onto the lawn. It didn’t matter since it was in the snow; he couldn’t afford to waste any time. He had been trying to reach Ashe telepathically the whole ride over but could not detect even the slightest trace of her in his mind. The thought that something had happened to her nagged at him and made him feel guilty for ever leaving her side. He was already at the front door of his house when he realized he was holding the remaining stake Mark had given him, its twin having already been lodged into Landon’s heart. Peter didn’t know if he could bear to do the same to his own sister, the woman who had sung over his cradle and brought him blood when he was too young to hunt for himself. Landon had been a monster, but Penelope was family. It wouldn’t be so easy this time around.

  Peter burst through the front door and into a nightmare scene. Ashe lay on the sofa as if dead. Penelope had Ashe’s arm to her mouth, rivulets of scarlet blood dripping down from her lips onto the ca
rpet below. She looked feral, her eyes lit with an unnatural light. She was a creature from the depths of Hell itself.

  “Get off her!” Peter shouted, shoving Penelope away from Ashe.

  Penelope hissed and backed up as Peter brandished the stake. He crouched protectively over Ashe, holding one hand tightly over the wound on her arm to stop the flow of blood. Peter fought a wave of dizziness as the tangy metallic smell was going straight to his head. His grip tightened on her arm.

  “Are you okay?” he asked her. Her eyelids fluttered, but she was otherwise unresponsive. There was a sheen of cold sweat on her brow. Peter could see the fine cuts crisscrossing Ashe’s skin as he put his fingers to her neck for a pulse. He winced, thinking about the pain that had been inflicted on her. Her pulse was weak and fading with every second.

  “What did you do to her?” Peter shouted at Penelope.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” she said, ignoring his question. “Didn’t you listen to what Ashe told you? She’s disgusted by you. You mean nothing to her.”

  “What did you do to her?” Peter demanded.

  His sister staggered drunkenly to her feet and wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth. “I did what you always knew I would do,” she replied.

  “I never thought my own sister would turn into such a monster,” Peter growled.

  “Who says I ever changed? You’re the one who has changed little brother. You’ve grown docile and weak; the human girl has tamed you. It’s sickening. I’m done bending over backwards like you to hide my true nature. So what are you going to do, kill me?” She nodded at the stake in Peter’s hand. “You’re not going to kill me. If you let go of Ashe’s arm now she’ll bleed out and die. This time it was no love bite that I left her with. She’s not getting out of this one alive.”

  Peter could see the rise and fall of Ashe’s chest as she breathed. Each time he was scared the next one wouldn’t come. He slowly lowered the stake and placed it on the coffee table. Penelope smirked. He then reached behind his back and pulled out the gun he’d been carrying. Penelope’s smile froze.

  “You wouldn’t,” she muttered.

  “I’d do anything for Ashe.”

  “I’m your sister.”

  “Not anymore.”

  “Don’t say that,” Penelope cried. “You can’t possibly be choosing this pathetic human over your own flesh and blood. Just look how weak she is. When she dies you’ll be alone. The clan will punish you for killing me.”

  Peter’s hand shook as he cocked the gun. “Help me save her and I’ll let you go. She’s still alive. You can fix this.”

  “You’re the one that needs fixing,” Penelope said. “You’ve forgotten what you really are.”

  “Ashe never did anything to you. You don’t have to do this,” Peter replied.

  Penelope took a step towards the door.

  “Please,” Peter shouted.

  Penelope turned and Peter squeezed the trigger. The bullet went wide and hit the wall behind Penelope as she disappeared through the doorway. He didn’t have the opportunity for a second shot.

  Peter let the gun clatter to the floor as he reeled from the shock of what he had nearly done. Only his nerves had caused him to miss the shot. At least that’s what he told himself. In his century of life he had been in several wars and had never once choked like that, not when it counted. He wanted to believe that this time was different, but a part of him worried that he had missed the shot on purpose. He had chosen to let Penelope go.

  Ashe moaned, bringing Peter back to the present. She was still losing too much blood through Peter’s fingers clamped over her arm. Peter pulled his belt from his jeans and looped it around Ashe’s upper arm like a tourniquet. This stopped most of the blood flow long enough for Peter to pull his phone out of his pocket with shaking, bloodstained fingers and call David to come save his daughter’s life.

  As he waited for David to arrive, he tried to use his telepathy to communicate with Ashe. He wanted to reassure her that everything was okay, even though he wasn’t sure that it was. Her pulse was barely perceptible and the heartbeat in her chest was the vaguest of whispers.

  Don’t die, Peter thought. Please Ashe don’t die. I’d be nothing without you. I promised you a lifetime together. You can’t leave me now.

  Peter thought of one way that Ashe would be able to stay with him longer, in fact eternity. A few drops of Peter’s blood and Ashe would become immortal. At first Peter felt guilty for even entertaining the thought, but the weaker Ashe’s heartbeat became, the more desperate he was. He couldn’t bear to lose her.

  “Ashe,” he said. “Can you hear me?”

  He needed to know that she understood what he was going to do for her.

  Ashe, he said to her in his mind. I need you to talk to me. You’re dying, but there’s a way to save you.

  He couldn’t tell if she had heard him.

  I need to turn you. It’s the only way. David’s on his way, but he won’t be here in time. It’s the only way we can be together.

  Still there was no reply; Ashe was on the cusp of being lost forever. Peter tried to stretch out the seconds waiting for either a response from Ashe or for David to come bursting through the door. When neither happened, Peter was forced to make an impossible decision. He tried to think of what Ashe herself would have decided if faced with the choice between her life and her humanity. He knew that what she had said to him on the phone earlier had been lies forced upon her by Penelope’s torture, but could there have been a kernel of truth hidden somewhere in her words? Maybe Ashe really was frightened by him, not that he would hurt her, but by the world he belonged to and the shadows lurking there. Maybe his appetite for blood did disgust her. What would it do to her to force her into such a life without giving her the choice?

  He feared that Ashe would hate him for turning her, but at least she wouldn’t be dead. Peter would teach her how to live as a vampire, how to control the urges and continue as normal a life as she could until she aged a couple hundred years and the sun became too harsh for her to endure. He would take all of her hatred for him and absorb it so that it wouldn’t eat her up inside, then give it back to her as love. He could be strong enough for the both of them. He knew he could.

  With a sense of urgency, Peter shattered the jar on the table. It released the thick scent of Ashe’s blood— even stronger than what was coming from the bite wound on her arm. He picked out one of the larger shards and poised it over his forearm. Once he did it, there was no turning back. For better or worse, Ashe would be one of his kind.

  The screeching of tires outside stayed his hand. Peter set the shard of glass down shakily. David came in the door moments later carrying a large black duffel bag and looking like he was bracing himself for battle. Peter had been so close to doing the irreversible. He didn’t know if he could have lived with himself had he actually gone through with it.

  “Help me with this,” David said.

  Peter didn't miss a beat. He unzipped the bag and started handing equipment to David to give Ashe a blood transfusion. The first time Penelope had fed on Ashe, she had only drained enough blood to make Ashe weak. This time Penelope had meant to kill her.

  David slid the needle into Ashe’s uninjured arm.

  “I’m going to need to stitch up the bite. She’s unconscious for now, but I don’t have any anesthetic and I can’t be sure she won’t wake up from the pain.”

  Peter nodded. “I’ll hold her down.”

  “Thanks.”

  As soon as David plunged the needle into Ashe’s skin, her eyes fluttered open and she moaned.

  “It’s okay,” Peter said, holding her arm steady with one hand and smoothing down her hair with the other.

  David paused, giving Ashe some time to orient herself.

  “Your dad needs to close the wound on your arm so you don’t lose any more blood.”

  Peter could tell that Ashe was afraid, but she didn’t try to protest. “Stay with me,” she muttered
.

  “I’m right here,” Peter replied.

  David set to work again and Ashe gritted her teeth to keep from crying out. Peter wiped the tears that fell from the corners of her eyes. “You’re almost done,” he said, glancing down at the progress David was making. Peter could see the grim lines of determination on the man’s face. He was managing to keep his hand steady though Peter could tell that every stitch hurt him just as much as it did his daughter. The wound was a lot worse than Peter had imagined. Penelope must have really wanted to hurt her.

  “All done,” David said as he tied the end of the string holding the needle. Ashe let out a shivering breath.

  “You did great,” Peter said.

  “Yeah,” David agreed. “Turns out my little girl is a lot tougher than I thought. Guess your mom did fine raising you without me.” He laughed self-consciously in the awkward silence that followed, and then got up to go wash the blood from his hands.

  The color was still missing from Ashe’s cheeks, but she had managed to stay conscious through the stitches. Her pupils were no longer dilated either. A pint or two of blood and she would be all right, Peter thought. It had been close though, too close.

  Ashe mumbled something that Peter didn’t catch.

  What? Peter asked in his head.

  I think everything’s going to be okay now, Ashe replied before falling into a deep sleep.

  Ashe awoke to the sound of Peter talking on the phone. The inside of her left arm felt like it was on fire and her head ached terribly. She had no way of telling how long she’d been asleep, but it was dark outside and she had been moved to a real bed. It wasn’t hers though; it must have been Peter’s.

  “Tell Mark he can come pick up the car any time he wants,” Peter said as he paced the hallway outside the bedroom with the phone against his ear.

  “That’s terrible. I’m so sorry. I wish I could have helped you guys out... no, she’ll be okay.”