Phoenix

by Finley Aaron

  “Let me see the picture,” she demanded, first thing, before introducing herself.

  Her accent wasn’t as pronounced as the man’s. Felix was grateful for that. He handed over the picture and explained that Faye Goodwin was his grandmother.

  “What ever became of her?” the French woman asked.

  “She died forty years ago, after laying my mother’s egg, but before it was hatched.” Felix knew full well that, if the woman before him wasn’t a dragon, she’d be confused by his reference to eggs and hatching. But she didn’t seem at all surprised, only sad.

  “Faye was such a good friend to me. One of the last.”

  Felix studied her as she removed her tinted glasses and dabbed at her eyes.

  Surely she was a dragon. Besides the fact that she still looked young—with her tiny frame and delicate face, she could have passed for being in her early teens—her eyes glowed with a jewel-toned pinkish color, more tourmaline than chalcedony (as dragons, Felix and all his siblings had to learn the names of all the gemstones in their treasure hoard, which was vast).

  “Do tell me your story, Child,” the woman requested.

  So Felix launched in to a lengthy account of his grandmother’s adventures, which had led to her being rescued by his grandfather Elmir, and the birth of his mother, on through their escapades up to that morning. It was a rather long story, and the woman listened patiently.

  As Felix finally reached the part that led through that day and his visit with her, he asked, “Would you like to return with me to Edinburg, to meet the others?”

  He expected her to respond with eagerness. After all, he had gone to great lengths to find her. He’d done all the difficult work, and now she had only to accept his invitation.

  But the woman toyed with a strand of pearls at her neck, and looked up with uncertainty to the man who’d opened the door, who had been stationed to one side behind her chair the entire time, a bit like a bodyguard.

  And old, frail bodyguard.

  “I don’t leave Paris,” the woman simpered.

  There then ensued an extremely long conversation, which was composed of Felix asking the woman direct questions and trying to be helpful, while the woman mostly simpered and played with her pearls and answered evasively and looked helplessly up at the man, whose name turned out to be Pierre.

  Very little came of that conversation. Felix learned the woman was named Alyda Etincelle, that she hadn’t seen another dragon since his grandmother’s last visit, and that she lived a reclusive existence in her apartment, pampering herself and her dogs and watching the world change its frightening face outside her window.

  The woman was interested in meeting the other dragons, but she simply refused to leave Paris.

  With no other way around the question, Felix feared he’d have to go back for his family, interrupt their work, and devise some means of getting them all back to Paris to meet the woman. When he spoke aloud about his concerns, he noted his doubt that Chen and Zhi would have passports, or even be able to get passports, with no record of their birth or parents.

  “Where are they from?” Alyda asked.

  “Northern China, near the Mongolian border.”

  “Oh? I used to know dragons from China. They taught me their language.” Alyda then rattled off something in Chinese, which Felix caught very little of, but whatever it was must have amused her greatly, because she giggled and looked up at him, her eyes suddenly brighter than they’d been all during their conversation. “All right, you have convinced me. I will go to Scotland with you. But my papers are so very old—I must make myself look old to match them.”

  While Felix got on his phone and booked a return flight to Edinburgh—three tickets, since Alyda refused to go without Pierre—Alyda donned a white wig, and used makeup to artfully age herself until she matched the photograph on her passport (for which she must have undergone similar preparations). Thankfully, though she insisted she hated to leave Paris or even her apartment, Alyda had at least gone to the trouble of keeping her paperwork current, even if it meant disguising herself as a ninety-year-old woman.

  “Someday soon, I suppose, I’ll have to present myself again as a young woman, and pass myself off as my own granddaughter. That’s what I did the last time. But the rules are so much more sophisticated now. I don’t know if they’d let me through. The world is moving ahead without me. Makeup can only do so much.”

  Once she was ready, she grabbed a walking cane and packed a small bag, and the three of them took the train together to the airport. Alyda walked briskly enough until they arrived. Then she leaned on her cane and gave a convincing impression of an elderly woman. Her stooped posture helped hide her face, as her white wig then partially veiled her less-than-elderly features.

  Felix was relieved once they made it through security. While they waited for their flight, he called Ed and asked him to pick them up at the Edinburgh airport. Then he tried to chat with Alyda, hoping to learn more about her history and family and the dragons she’d known, but she only shook her head and insisted she felt too nervous to speak.

  It wasn’t a good sign. Felix mostly felt annoyed by this woman—even more annoyed than he’d felt with Zhi. And the fact that she was so reluctant to leave Paris, well, it didn’t bode well for matrimony, since he had never been fond of large, sophisticated cities, and Paris was one of the largest, most sophisticated cities in all of Europe, and even the world.

  It was lovely enough to visit now and then, but if he had to live there all the time, and never leave, it would feel like a prison to him.

  The flight sent smoothly and they found Ed with little difficulty, though the ride home turned out to be slightly awkward since Ed’s truck only seated three people at best. So Felix lay down out of sight in the back end, and they reached the apartment without further incident.

  Once inside, the tiny apartment felt even more crowded. Alyda appeared to be completely overwhelmed. Fortunately, the Melikovs picked up on her trepidation and gave her space. Soon she was engaged in a lively conversation in Chinese with Chen and Zhi.

  Felix found a spot on the sofa next to Zilpha. “Find any other dragons?”

  “Not a whisper. Sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. It’s exciting finding dragons, but it’s also a great deal of work, and rather—” He bit off his words.

  But his sister knew him too well. “Disappointing?”

  “I don’t care for either of them. I mean, I’m glad to have found them. And grandfather seems to like Zhi.”

  “He does. And she likes him,” Zilpha confirmed. “And Chen seems enamored of Alyda already—which could prove to be a boon, because someday, our nieces and nephews will need mates they’re not already related to.”

  Felix nodded, and thought there was nothing more to what Zilpha was saying, but then he noticed his sister pointing discretely to Wren.

  “What?” Felix asked.

  “She’s going to lay an egg.”

  “What? Wren? Are you sure?”

  “Quite sure. She’s sure, anyway. We talked about it. She’s thrilled. Ed is over the moon. Haven’t you noticed him beaming?”

  “I can’t say that I really paid attention.” Felix attributed his ignorance to having spent the ride back from the airport lying down in the rear of the truck, which made it far more difficult for him to notice the driver beaming.

  “Well, there are going to be nieces and nephews. Ram and Nia want to start a family soon, too. There will be more dragons in this world. They’re going to be cousins and I—” Zilpha’s voice caught, and Felix wondered if perhaps this was an emotional cue, such as Ed’s beaming, that perhaps he ought to pick up on.

  “I’m happy for them,” Zilpha finished in a hasty breath, her voice higher than usual.

  Felix recalled that his sister had always wanted to marry and have children. More than any of the five siblings, she’d been determined to marry, spending hours pouring over history books, searching for clues that might lead her t
o dragons. But she’d never found any.

  “Zilpha?” Felix began, unsure what to say to make her feel better.

  “It’s fine. I’m glad for them. I always wanted cousins. And someday—” she cleared her throat and shook her head. “It’s fine. We’ve gone through all the papers today, and found no more clues to dragons, and that’s okay.”

  “Were you hoping to find a male?” Felix asked, realizing once the words were out that of course she was.

  “There wasn’t much chance of it, I know.” Zilpha shrugged. “But I couldn’t help hoping.”

  Across the room, Alyda and Chen were laughing at some shared joke, while Elmir and Zhi stood shoulder-to-shoulder, packing away books in a box.

  Felix swallowed back a rogue lump in his throat. He hadn’t found what he’d come for. Well he had, but not really. He’d found female dragons, but he hadn’t found a wife.

  Still, his efforts had contributed to the world dragon population in some way. He’d done his part, even if it wasn’t the part he’d intended. And for the time being, it would have to be enough.

  “You’ll find a mate someday, Zilpha. Don’t worry.”

  “Oh, I know.” She patted his knee and then rose, heading across the room to help pack books.

  Felix couldn’t help but be impressed with the confidence in her tone. It was almost as though she consoled herself with the secret knowledge of another dragon, somewhere out there, who she might take as her mate.

  But that couldn’t be it. Could it?

  The End

  And now, here’s the promised glimpse of Zilpha’s story, Vixen.

  Vixen: A Sneak Peek at the First Four Chapters

  Chapter One

  “It’s too dangerous. I don’t think you should go.”

  I stop in the middle of tugging on my cardigan sweater and stare at my friend Jala. “Don’t think I should go?” I repeat, unsure what she could possibly mean. “Not go, when? Tomorrow? You think I should hold off a day or two?” I shove my arm through my sleeve and wait for her answer.

  Jala’s making this lip-chewing, scrunched-nose face that says she knows exactly what she wants to say, but she knows I don’t want to hear it. Or maybe I’m just projecting.

  Yes, hopefully that’s it.

  Jala takes a deep breath. “I don’t think you should go, ever.”

  “But that’s the whole reason I’m here—”

  “I know! But it’s too dangerous.”

  “We talked this over last summer. You agreed to help me then. What’s changed?”

  “Honestly, Zilpha?” Jala shakes her head regretfully. “I thought you would come to your senses and change your mind. I agreed because it was a year away, and I knew if I argued with you, you’d only dig in your heels that much more—”

  “Dig in my heels?”

  “You are a dragon. The most notoriously stubborn creatures on earth, which only still exist because they were too obstinate to die off with the dinosaurs.” There’s half a good-natured smile on Jala’s face, so I know she’s only teasing me. But the rest of her expression says she’s scared. Scared of my plan, of what might happen to me—scared of admitting she doesn’t want to help me out, after all.

  I’ve got my sweater on and buttoned up against the Siberian cold. It may be summer again, but it’s still Siberia. I haven’t been here since last summer, when my sister’s now-husband defeated the mutant water-yagi, and my brother met his now-wife. Amazing how much the world can change in a year.

  But Siberia is still cold.

  And I haven’t changed my mind about my plan to seduce Ion—although seduce isn’t technically the right word for it. That makes it sound like I know what I’m doing, like I’m some kind of seductress, which is laughable. But what other word is there? Woo? Flirt with?

  I plan to do something between flirt with and seduce. I am not a seductress. I am a...vixen. Yeah, a flirty, woo-some, dragon woman. And I am here to somehow convince Ion that he and I need to be together.

  I mean, Ion may be my family’s arch-enemy, and there was that one time when he almost killed my father (yes, on purpose) but he’s also the only single male dragon in the world who I’m not already related to.

  I have no other option.

  Sitting opposite Jala at the small table in the cabin she shares with her grandfather (though he’s back in Azerbaijan for a few weeks right now), I give her my most rational smile and try to speak in a voice that says I’m not a crazy person, and I actually know what I’m talking about. “It’s going to be far more dangerous for me to go in there if you don’t help me.”

  “B-but,” Jala stammers. “You can’t do it if I don’t help you.”

  “I’m less likely to be successful without your help, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to try. Come on, if you’re worried about my safety, then come with me so I’m not alone, at least.”

  “You don’t even know what you’re doing.”

  I bite back the words that’s never stopped me before, and try to think of the thing that’s most likely to convince her to go along with her side of the plan. “My family will be forever grateful to you for the role you played in helping me find a mate.”

  “Your family will forever despise me if anything bad happens to you.” Jala buries her head in her hands. “Your mother saved my life, you know. When I was only a very little girl, and the yagi swarmed the village square—”

  “Nothing bad is going to happen to me.” I cut off Jala’s story because I’ve heard it a dozen times already and to be honest I don’t believe she was ever in half as much danger as she thinks she was.

  Nor am I going to be in that much danger, but I’ve got to convince her of this. I stand. “Let’s go.”

  “We’re not going now! You at least have to wait until three o’clock tomorrow.”

  “We’re not going, going now. I just want to peek at his castle, like we did last summer. Come on. It’s perfectly safe.”

  “It’s not perfect safe,” Jala pouts, but she stands, anyway.

  “I’ll let you ride on my back.” I know Jala’s a sucker for riding on a flying dragon. Who wouldn’t be? Besides maybe breathing fire, flying is our most awesome feature.

  And Jala hasn’t had a chance to ride on a flying dragon in almost a year, not since early last summer when most of my family came to Siberia and a bunch of crazy things happened. In the midst of those crazy things, when everyone else was distracted with destroying the water yagi and discovering the yellow dragon, Nia (who ended up marrying my brother), Jala and I sneaked off and I got to see Ion for the first time.

  I haven’t been able to forget him. Honestly—Jala thought I might change my mind? If anything, I’m more determined now than ever. I can’t wait to see him again, even if it’s from a distance, spying on him from the Siberian woods.

  Is he as handsome as I remember, or did I embellish my memories because of my longing? Has he changed? Will I still feel what I felt when I saw him the first time?

  I fling my sweater off and step out onto the porch.

  “Be careful. You don’t want to be seen,” Jala reminds me, as if I could ever possibly forget that I can’t allow anyone to see me in dragon form. “Eudora’s still dangerous. I don’t think she’s happy about having her water yagis destroyed, and her yagi population decimated by your brothers’ volcano antics, or whatever that was.” But even in the midst of her protests, Jala climbs onto my back the second I turn into a dragon and crouch low.

  Once she’s holding on, I bound forward into the evening sky in the direction of Ion’s castle.

  I’ve been looking forward to this for almost a year. Okay, yes, it’s probably dangerous. Ion is supposedly in league with Eudora, who’s been trying for centuries to kill off all the dragons in the world (or maybe just control them—my brother Felix has some interesting theories about this). And I know Ion very nearly killed my father, but there were a lot of extenuating circumstances that don’t apply right now.

  But besides all
that, there’s this feeling I get when I look at Ion. I can’t explain it. I’ve always had a picture in my head of what I wanted my future husband to look like and be like. Cultured. Sophisticated. Handsome. Articulate. Not a half-mute muscle-head like my dad and brothers (they’re great guys, don’t get me wrong, and I love them all to pieces and all that, but seriously, my father’s almost completely non-verbal. It works between him and my mom because they can practically read each other’s minds or communicate with nose-twitches, or something like that, but that’s not what I want in a mate).

  When I saw Ion last summer, it was as though everything I’d wished for had materialized before my eyes, only better. Jala and I saw his castle (which is itself an amazing piece of architecture and I’ve been wanting to explore it since the moment I saw it) and there’s a big balcony off the main ballroom, with these enormous arched windows and a concert grand piano inside. And Ion sat down at the piano and played.

  He played the piano!

  We couldn’t hear him, or anything, on account of the windows all being closed, but it was beautiful to watch. He closed his eyes and got caught up in the music, and I knew.

  I just knew.

  This man. This dragon. The only single male dragon in the world I’m not already related to—he has to be the one for me.

  There’s just that little part about how everyone in my family hates him, and he might secretly want us all dead, and that. Don’t think I haven’t weighed the pros and cons here. I know it’s complicated. I’ve told myself for the past year my plan is crazy and I should probably just forget about him.

  But I haven’t been able to forget about him.

  And now I’m here.

  I set down in the woods behind some trees, in a spot near the one we observed him from last summer, with a clear view of the ballroom’s high arched windows.

  The castle is still, with no signs of life. I don’t see Ion, but the castle is even more gorgeous than I remembered. It’s nestled among the silvery stone mountains, with turrets that jut up like so many mountain peaks. And it’s all silvery green like aged copper. I’ve heard Ion has pale silvery-green eyes, but I’ve never been close enough to him to see them.