by Jenna Payne
“Be careful on the landing,” Daniel shouted. He must’ve seen a flicker of worry in her face. “Watch me!”
She hovered above the ground, flapping her wings steadily, and watched as Daniel slowly lowered himself to the earth with softer and softer flaps. Joshua had already landed, and was standing beside the house watching them. Stacie took a deep breath, her lungs feeling clearer and freer now that she was in the open, away from the city, in wide-open space. Then she began to flap her wings, slowly.
It was an awkward moment. In the end, she had to let herself drop a few feet. She nearly sprained her ankle, but on the whole she was okay. She walked toward the house, to where Joshua and Daniel stood, and stared at them for a moment. There were no words, at least no words that she was aware of, that could adequately describe the intensity of emotion within her.
Joshua looked at her, smiled, and began to laugh. After a moment, Daniel laughed along with him. And then Stacie burst into laughter. It was crazy and surreal and alien, but Stacie felt at home. She fell against Joshua and he put his arms around her. Then Daniel stepped up behind her and wrapped her in his arms, too.
The three of them stood like that for a long time, and only went inside as the sun began to set.
“So,” Joshua said, “what do you want to do?”
The three of them were sitting around a table in the house. It had been four days since her flight from the city. Her wings were safely tucked into her back-sacs. It sounded disgusting when Joshua first explained it to her, but she found it to be much more dignified; the wings folded into her back, so they were almost invisible. Well, you certainly didn’t notice them on Joshua or Ragnar on a certain night. They had just finished three steaks and were sharing a glass of wine. It turned out Joshua’s dad had been very rich, and had left Joshua a sizable inheritance, hence the lavish meals, expensive cars and many other luxuries.
They wanted something from her now. They wanted to know if she was going to go with them, west. West to the dragons, so she could be officially recognized by the Council of Scales. Or was she going to return to the city, to her old life, to her call-center job and her apartment? Did she want to be a Queen or did she want to be a drone?
“I think we all know the answer to that,” she said.
Dragons were not like humans, Stacie had learned. Their emotions were quicker and more intense. She had bonded with these men faster over the past four days than many humans would in four years. It was an almost telepathic bonding, formed over secret looks and held hands and frantic lovemaking. It was the kind of bonding only Queens and Drakes have access to.
“I want to be a Queen,” she said, feeling strong as hell.
And I will be. I will be a Queen of the skies. I will be a Queen and Joshua and Daniel will be my Drakes. Yes, Stacie Simmons, you have done alright for yourself.
“I saw them!” the boy shouted, excited.
The waitress rolled her eyes. “Three dragons, Tobe, really?”
“Yeah, really!”
“OOohhhhhhh, okay. And where were these dragons going?”
“West, Sissy, they were going west!”
“Right! Stop making up stories and let me get back to work.”
THE END
Bonus Story 28 of 40
The French Quarter Hostages
Elizabeth fought to get free of Jake’s tight grasp. He was squeezing her so tightly in his bear form that she could barely breathe. She was tucked under his arm like a carcass, and was bouncing around like a rag doll as he climbed as fast as he could up a thick, bald cypress tree in the Louisiana woods.
“It won’t hold us!” Elizabeth yelled, as the ground disappeared beneath them, as bright green spindles caught in her tank top and jeans, and as sharp, dry branches ripped through the surface of her pale skin. Elizabeth tried to tuck her long blonde hair in her shirt for fear it would be ripped from her scalp in the ascent, but she was bouncing around too much and needed to hold on.
Jake growled something to her that must have been a swear word in whatever growly language bears speak. She could not understand Jake or his best friend Chris when they transformed into bear form. Chris was already several feet ahead of them in the tree, and Elizabeth tightened her grasp in Jake’s, black, thick fur as they raced behind Chris. Jake was just following Chris’ lead, but all Elizabeth could think about was how Chris was likely weakening the spindly branches in his enormous grizzly bear form above them.
Chris must have read her mind, because as he climbed higher he got smaller until the massive girth of a grizzly bear receded into the broad shoulders of a thirty-year-old man. Chris’ tousled blonde hair danced in the cool Louisiana night and his long body ascended the tree with great ease until he settled on a high branch. Elizabeth could see the curves and shadows of his many defined muscles even a few feet down, as they drew nearer to him, Chris’ deep green eyes burned into her. His square jaw was clenched like he was angry, but she knew he wore that stern face more out of habit than out of menace.
When Jake sat her on a branch across from Chris who was bare-chested aside from torn blue jeans riding low on his hips, Chris still stared at her. She knew he wanted her reaction, maybe even an apology. She had told the friends, Chris and Jake, that they were full of shit. She did not think that two hot guys trying to pull a fast one over a bookish college student could be supernatural creatures.
Elizabeth was only in Louisiana for the spring semester since her school, Michigan State, was doing an environmental student exchange with Dillard University in New Orleans. All she wanted was to save the planet, and save at risk animals like the bear population, from shrinking in the Cajun state. Never in her wildest dreams would she have thought her earth-consciousness would land her high in a tree in the Louisiana forest with two men who had the ability to transform into grizzly and black bears. Not to mention, inadvertently, she managed to run into a menacing voodoo priestess.
“I think you owe us an apology,” said Jake, flashing her a boyish grin. He had already transformed back into a man, a man nearly as muscular as Chris, but who took the world half as seriously.
“It’s not a joke, man,” Chris said, scowling at him.
“It’s pretty damn funny from where I’m sitting, bro. If Elizabeth had listened to us about not poking the metaphorical bear that is Louisiana voodoo culture we would all be enjoying ourselves back in New Orleans. I just want to take this time to gloat, and bask in what a shitty person Elizabeth must feel like right about—now,” Jake said, whipping his head around to look at her, and subsequently flashing her a cocksure grin.
She gritted her teeth, knowing he was right. Jake’s blue eyes twinkled with humor, contrasting with his inky-black hair. He had this way of blasting you with the truth through his sarcasm, and she had to admit she was happy that he and Chris saved her.
“That’s not going to help us get down from this tree,” Chris said, scowling. Scowling melancholy seemed to be Chris’ way of backhand slapping you with the fact you were doomed, and Elizabeth’s stomach sank with guilt.
“Look, I get it. I get it. I screwed up. I’m sorry. Just—just would you believe me if I told you I was a magical transformative bunny rabbit?” Elizabeth said, feeling exasperated.
“Bunny rabbits? You compare the lords of the forest with rats with long ears?” asked Jake, raising an eyebrow at her.
“We are not the ‘lords of the forest’, idiot,” Chris said, rising to his feet and surveying the land.
After an afternoon of passion between the three of them, Chris had told her that werebears could see for miles, and Elizabeth wondered what it would be like to basically have binoculars for eyes.
“Well, it would catch on if you say it too. People will catch on, and we’re the biggest, so if people disagree, we should eat them. I think that’s only fair,” Jake said, shrugging his massive shoulders.
“Shut up, Jake. Jesus, why don’t you keep a lookout so we can get out of this damn tree?” Chris said, turning his head slowly
like a barn owl.
“You see anything?” Elizabeth asked, staggering to her feet. She was experiencing vertigo from being up so high, and the ground was swaying beneath her.
“You should sit,” Chris said, more as a command than a suggestion.
Elizabeth wanted to protest, but he was right, so she plopped back down on the thin, gray branch.
“I really don’t think they followed us this far, man,” Jake said, lazily surveying the quiet countryside.
Chris did not seem to agree, because now his head was darting left and right, and he was sniffing the air.
“No, they’re here. They just don’t know which way to go. We need to get out of here,” Chris said, looking at Elizabeth.
“Go where? I can’t spend my semester running from supernatural psychopaths. I have school!” Elizabeth said, crossing her arms.
She felt like a petulant child, but she had near perfect grades, and this was her senior year at Michigan State, and she wanted to do well. She had to do well. No one in her family graduated or even attended college, and here she was with a full ride to college, and a reputable internship at Dillard to study wildlife hands on. This was an important step to her final college career goal. She wanted to work for the Environmental Protection Agency in Washington, D.C. She just had to graduate from this program to be considered for their entry level research program, but here she was stuck in a tree instead of saving the trees. This one misstep was throwing off her plans. It was like one domino fell after the other after the other, and her world was crumbling. Elizabeth sat up when she saw a glimmer of light dance about a hundred feet below in the underbrush.
“Don’t move a muscle,” Chris said. He must have seen it too.
“Guys, it was nice knowing you. We are totally fucked,” Jake said, shaking his head.
*****
One day earlier
Elizabeth scribbled furiously in her day planner as she marched down Bourbon street. The brick made a wet, slapping noise against her flat shoes as she fought with the recent rain. The ground was slushy, but even in the macabre grey of the day there was an electricity to the city: New Orleans. No matter what street she walked down, jazz was dancing in and out of her ears. There were street performers too, in vibrant colors like they were putting on a pre-show for the upcoming Mardi Gras festival. It seemed fun, but it was not something Elizabeth could be bothered with.
Elizabeth had landed in New Orleans in January, and had until May to submit her thesis on causative human factors in the black bear decline. She did not want to go the bland “human expansion” route because she wanted to dazzle. She wanted the EPA to notice her, and beg for her to join their agency, and she would have to encourage herself to do it. None of her classmates could be bothered with doing extra work senior year. Michigan State was a hard enough school as is. The last thing anyone wanted was extra research. And the last thing Elizabeth wanted was to end up a single mom working in a diner like her mom.
Elizabeth pounded down the sidewalk, not taking in the sights of the historical buildings, blatantly disregarding the magic of the French Quarter, and almost snapping when a human statue tapped her shoulder. She glared at a him, a silvery Charlie Chaplin look-alike, and he stiffened back into character.
Elizabeth just wanted to get back to her dorm room, but her stomach growled menacingly, reminding her it was lunch time, and she had not eaten all day. She looked up from her day planner for the first time in a few city blocks, and realized she was in Gris Street.
Everyone at Dillard told her to avoid Gris Street, because of the evil that permeated the air. It was rows and rows of voodoo and occult shops all with crooked orange and black signs that read ‘open’. Elizabeth felt no evil, it was painted with the same dull gray as the rest of the city because of the recent rain storm. Her issue with the shops on Gris Street was not their reputation, but the fact that they did not sell food. She turned around in a full circle, realizing she was surrounded by occult stores, and pursed her lips. This part of the city was not overcrowded with tourists like the main French Quarter where people seemed to be shoving past her just to get some jambalaya. The thought of red beans and rice made her mouth water.
Elizabeth picked a store, a black and red painted brick building tucked in a corner, with a sign that read “Karis’ Mischief Shoppe.” Elizabeth tilted her head, deciding she did not like ‘shoppe’ spelled in an old European way since this was America, but she needed directions or a bag of potato chips so she did not pass out before her next visit to the woods.
The doorbell made a low clinking noise as Elizabeth entered the dimly lit, small, round space. It smelled of wet grass, and an undercurrent of spices. Bizarre dried out plants were in clear plastic baggies hanging lazily on hooks down three narrow aisles that all pointed to a single register. Elizabeth looked around for a vending machine or a cooler, but nothing looked edible in the shop. Also no one had even come from the beaded doorway in the back of the room to greet her.
“Can I help you, miss?” came a low rhythmic voice down one of the aisles. A Creole woman rose to her feet. Her face was caramel brown, and her features were sharp, aquiline, and her eyes were a clear gray like the edges of her braided hair.
“Hello, I was looking for food, like a restaurant, maybe?” Elizabeth said, clutching at her cross-body purse for support. The woman made her nervous.
The woman crossed the aisle, dragging her thin body closer, and crossing her arms, as if appraising Elizabeth.
The woman was wearing a long, muddy-brown dress, and Elizabeth felt out of place in her jeans and t-shirt.
“You come to a voodoo shop for food?” the woman asked with a crooked, mirthless smile.
“I—I’m just lost. I’m sorry for bothering you,” Elizabeth said, turning to leave.
When she reached for the door, she saw rows of something that caught her eyes in the baggies: bear teeth and bear fur. She reached for it, tracing her hands around the edges of the bag, feeling her stomach sicken.
“You kill innocent animals for a joke shop?” Elizabeth asked, feeling angry.
The woman uncrossed her arms, and sneered at Elizabeth.
“This store has stood in this spot for over eighty years. There is nothing funny about it. And for your information, we don’t kill anything on these walls. When bears tear through the flesh of their prey, sometimes a tooth falls out, and lingers in the wood. I collect them for their power. It’s an ingredient in hexes.”
Elizabeth scoffed, putting the baggie back on the hook.
“Oh, so you don’t believe, eh?” the store keeper asked.
“I’m an environmental scientist. I work on, at a minimum, empirical evidence. Don’t put much stock in magical bear teeth.”
“Well, you should. And I would be careful who I insult when I’m so prone to shedding hair.”
The woman pulled a long strand of straight blonde hair from a shelf Elizabeth had just walked pass. Elizabeth instantly touched her scalp like she would miss it.
“Don’t worry. I will just keep it for good measure. Anything connected to you can shed even your more darkest secrets, your fears, your hopes, so I would be careful Miss—” the woman paused, threading the hair through her index finger and thumb, pinched her eyes closed, and breathed deeply, “Elizabeth.”
*****
Elizabeth all but ran out of the store. The rain had started to fall again and her straight blonde hair was sticking to her slim face. She pulled the hood of her jacket up, and trotted ahead until she saw a line of restaurants. Even though Elizabeth did not believe, she had to admit that being away from the street of voodoo shops made her feel at ease. There was something dark in the air there. It was a heaviness that she could not explain. Perhaps it was the darkness of the rainy day, or perhaps it was her own anxiety about getting a job in her field that made her so uneasy. She marched ahead, keeping her head down when she slammed into someone.
“Hey, watch it!” said a man with dark black hair.
�
�I’m sorry,” Elizabeth said, looking into the handsome face of the stranger.
When he met her gaze his eyes seemed to soften. He was taller, broad-shouldered and had a grey hoodie up to protect him from the rain.
“No worries,” he said, smiling down at her, “Come let’s get out of the rain. I was just about to go into PJ’s for lunch. You like po’boys?”
He waved her over to an awning in front of a two story building that had PJ’s etched on the front of the door in thick, gold lettering.
“I, um, I don’t know what that means. No offense, but I’ll pass. I don’t even know you.”
Elizabeth’s stomach growled loudly and he looked her up and down with a cheeky smile.
“Po’boy is a sandwich. I’m from Baton Rouge and my mom used to make them all the time. And you can get to know me over food. Don’t lie and say you’re not hungry. Your stomach just gave you away. I’m Jacob by the way. You can just call me Jake.”
He extended his arm to shake her hand. She took it, eyeing him speculatively.
“Don’t worry. I don’t bite. Not on the first date anyway,” he said, winking at her and pulling the door open, “after you.”
“This is not a date. I’m Elizabeth by the way,” Elizabeth said, walking ahead of him in the restaurant. The interior was dark wood and high ceilings with numerous square, white tables spread around the floor. It was basically empty. A dark-skinned hostess in a checkered red and black dress greeted them.
“Hello, just two?” the hostess asked.
“Yep,” Jake said, pulling his hood back and shaking out his hair.
Elizabeth stole another look at him, feeling her stomach dance with butterflies. She never gave guys a second look with her rigorous program at school, but none of the men on campus looked anything like this Louisiana man.