by Chris Cannon
“I’m sorry, should I leave you alone?” Bryn asked.
“What?” Miss Enid blinked and then shook her head. “Sorry. I was off in my own little world.”
Thank goodness the frown hadn’t been directed at her. Bryn felt her shoulders relax. “How was your summer?” she asked.
“It was unsettling.”
She knew why her summer had been odd, but she didn’t know what Miss Enid had dealt with. “Feel free to tell me to mind my own business, but what happened?”
“Nothing specific,” Miss Enid said. “It seems like there are several political forces at play, and I’m not sure what their goals are. I know your grandfather is trying to keep the peace, but Ferrin seems bent on crushing anyone he even thinks might be a problem. I had a new student, who happened to be a Green-Red hybrid, organizing an area on the second floor. When she didn’t return in a timely manner I went to check on her and discovered that a guard had grabbed her for questioning. She’d been approved to attend school and had passed another set of approvals to work for me. The guard had no cause to suspect her. He’d just grabbed her because her auburn hair didn’t match her dark complexion.”
“That’s ridiculous.” And it reminded her of something. “Have you heard about the No Loitering rule in Dragon’s Bluff?”
“No.”
Bryn told her about the guards almost arresting Clint.
“That’s absurd.” Miss Enid drummed her nails on the wooden desk. “I don’t understand why someone would go through the trouble of clearing students to return to school if they planned on targeting them afterward, anyway.”
“I have another question.” Bryn glanced around. “Why won’t they let any of the adults leave Sanctuary?”
“Interesting. It’s almost like they’re purposely separating the children from their parents.”
“Why would they do that?” And then Bryn had an odd thought. “What about the students who aren’t old enough to attend the Institute? Where are they going to school?”
“Some of the hybrids were teachers, and they’ve set up a school for the younger students,” Miss Enid said.
“Oh…well that’s good. What are the adults doing all day?”
“I’ve heard that everyone is pitching in to build housing.”
That made sense. “Enough reality for the moment. Can you recommend some books that have nothing to do with dragons?”
“How do you feel about demon hunters?”
“I’m willing to give them a shot,” Bryn said.
…
Bryn was one hundred pages into her book when someone knocked on her door. She’d just seen Clint and Ivy at dinner, so who did that leave? Wait, she knew the answer. She slid a bookmark between the pages and went to see what Jaxon wanted.
She opened the door and sure enough, the blight of her life stood there with a sour expression on his face…and he’d gripe if she tried to talk to him in the hallway. “Come on in.”
He entered and went to lean against the library table. “We need to talk.”
“Here I thought maybe you dropped by to play charades.”
“I’m not going to dignify that poor attempt at humor with a response.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “We should start eating our meals together in the dining hall.”
“Hell no.” She was not giving up her friends.
“I’m just as thrilled about it as you are, but people are talking about us not spending enough time together.”
“What people? And since when does a Westgate care what other people think?”
He opened his mouth to speak and then paused. “Good point, but for the sake of appearances, we should eat together a few times a week.”
This was not a conversation she wanted to have standing up. She walked over and flopped down on the couch, putting her feet up on the coffee table. “Fine. Let’s negotiate. You don’t want to eat at my table and I don’t want to eat at yours, so we should share the awkwardness on some sort of schedule.”
Jaxon came to sit in one of the winged-back chairs and pointed at her feet. “A table is not a footstool.”
“This one is,” Bryn said. “Back to the irritating topic at hand. I’ll join you for dinner on Tuesdays and you’ll join me for dinner on Thursdays.”
“Fine. We should probably eat lunch together, too.”
Nope. “Lunch is for scarfing down food before going to your next class. Let’s stick with dinner. It’s more date-like.”
“I guess you’re right. We’ll start with dinner two nights a week and see if that takes care of the issue. We still need to discuss weekends.”
She was going to regret asking this question. “What about the weekends?”
“Your grandmother and my mother spent all summer throwing us together. Did you think they’d stop just because school started?”
“Son of a bitch.” Bryn slid lower on the couch.
“Agreed. Apparently, they are bringing events to campus rather than dragging us off to other peoples’ estates. My mother claims it’s about helping to unify the student body and making them feel welcome.”
“Good to know other people will be sharing the fun.” On a positive note, at least with students from all Clans and multiple versions of hybrids, she wouldn’t stick out like she normally did at Blue events.
“So…this weekend we’re having a Homecoming Gala where we’re supposed to mingle and be seen.”
“Can we do that in jeans, because the dress code isn’t in force on the weekends?” Girls were required to wear skirts and blouses and archaic panty hose to class everyday and she relished her evening and weekend yoga pants and jeans time.
“I’m sure you know the answer to that question.”
“You’re just the bearer of all sorts of good news,” she said.
“Just sharing the joy that is our inexplicably intertwined lives.” He stared down at his hands. “I understand now why they test bloodlines. There are certain traits you definitely don’t want brought to light. I’d like to see how they determine which bloodlines are compatible. You’d think there would be more than just a few good matches for every dragon.”
“I don’t understand why Mr. Stanton and Miss Enid were denied without a reason.”
Jaxon’s brow wrinkled in confusion before he seemed to understand. “They were denied, and they didn’t accept the Directorate’s alternative partners, which is why they never married.”
“Exactly. They’ve been seeing each other all this time. And honestly, since they’re past the age of having children, what would the harm be in allowing them to marry?”
“As far as I know, something of that nature has never been discussed,” Jaxon said. “Dragons who chose not to marry have always stayed single, but if they are no longer at risk of producing dangerous offspring, they should be allowed to marry.”
“I know it’s not really the Student Directorate’s place to advocate for teachers, but we could say that some students asked,” Bryn said. “Because we’re students and we wondered.”
“Bothering my father with anything other than a life or death situation right now is not advisable. He’s barely home and when he is, he isn’t in a social mood.”
Poor Lillith. “I could ask my grandmother if she thinks we should ask the Directorate about this. My grandfather seems like his normal self, but I have no idea what he’s dealing with right now.”
Jaxon stood. “Let me know what she says.”
“Okay.” Bryn followed him to the door and locked it after he left. While she wasn’t looking forward to eating several meals a week with him, it was nice to have someone to talk to about these Directorate issues. Did he feel the same way?
Chapter Seven
The next morning at breakfast, Bryn shared the joyous news about Jaxon joining them for dinner one day a week.
“So you have to eat dinner with him tonight?” Ivy said.
Bryn nodded.
“Everyone knows your marriage contract was approved, so why do yo
u have to be seen digesting food together?” Clint asked.
“I don’t know…something about presenting a united front or showing everyone that our family alliance is strong or some weird Blue Clan crap like that.” Bryn sipped her coffee. “Did I mention that there’s going to be a Homecoming Gala this weekend? Posters will probably go up later today and it’s my job to mingle and be seen with Jaxon.”
“It’s almost funny,” Clint said.
“Almost,” Bryn said, “but not quite. The good news is there will be food. The bad news is, it’s dress code compliant.”
“But it’s the weekend,” Clint said.
“I had the exact same reaction,” Bryn said.
“How’s your Medic class going?” Ivy asked.
“Interesting. I met a Green named Janelle. She’s pretty cool. How’s history class, part two?”
“They haven’t found a replacement teacher yet, so we’re reading historical articles,” Clint said. “Mine was about a secret society of Silver dragons who possessed all the breath weapons. They took dragons as prisoners and siphoned their Quintessence.”
“That’s downright evil,” Bryn said.
“True,” Clint said. “It reads like a horror story. Hard to believe it was real.”
“Why would someone need to do that in the first place?” Bryn asked. “If you’re tired, you rest or eat…you don’t go all Quintessence Vampire on someone.”
“Some people just don’t play well with others,” Ivy said. “They want all the toys for themselves and they don’t care who they hurt.”
Bryn had a mental image of Ferrin hoarding toys and refusing to let anyone else play with him. “Sounds like someone I know.”
“Does his name rhyme with Darren?” Clint asked like he was trying to solve a puzzle.
“How’d you guess?” Bryn asked.
“I’m brilliant like that,” Clint said.
As the weekend approached, Bryn waited for word that her parents would be allowed to visit, or that she’d be allowed to visit them in Sanctuary. She received no such message.
At dinner Thursday night she griped to Clint, Ivy, and Jaxon, who sat at their table looking like he’d rather be eating behind a dumpster.
“I don’t understand,” Bryn said. “I thought the powers-that-be would have all that crap straightened out by now.”
“The Directorate has been convening day and night for months,” Jaxon said. “And they probably prioritize everyone’s safety above your concerns.”
Bryn glared at him. “I’m aware of that,” she added a silent asshat to her statement. “But a reliable source told me that my parents would be allowed to visit soon. And I won’t apologize for wanting to hug my mom and dad, who I thought were dead…so back off.”
Jaxon’s eyes narrowed. He leaned toward her so that their faces were inches apart. “But unlike Rhianna, they aren’t dead, so you will be able to see them again.” Frost shot from his lips as he spoke. “Stop complaining when you have no idea of the scope of issues the Directorate is dealing with.”
Flames crawled up the back of Bryn’s throat. She knew he was hurting but he’d crossed a line. She pushed the flames down but could still taste the smoke. “I know you’re still grieving, and I miss Rhianna, too, but that doesn’t give you the right to be a condescending asshat. We’re supposed to be a team, which means we support each other, not tear each other down.”
Instead of responding, he just stared at her for a moment and then he went back to eating his dinner. Was he admitting she was right? She couldn’t read the blank expression on his face. Clint and Ivy made small talk while they finished their dinner. Bryn finished her food before Jaxon. Now what? Did she have to wait for him? Maybe if she asked him, he’d feel better because he’d have an answer for something, which might soothe his ego.
“When we eat together are we required to exit the dining hall together?”
“Yes.” Jaxon glanced at her plate. “My appetite is gone. We can leave now if you want.”
Now he just seemed sad which made her feel guilty. Reaching over she laid her hand on his forearm. “I’m sorry.” His skin was surprisingly warm to the touch.
He seemed genuinely confused. “For what?”
“For the whirlwind of crap that our lives have become.”
“That’s a fairly accurate description.” He gave a tight smile. “From now on, I’ll try to remember that we’re on the same side.”
She exited the dining hall with Jaxon. They didn’t speak as they walked back to the Blue dorm, but the silence wasn’t awkward. He walked her to her dorm room and said goodnight. Clint and Ivy knocked on her terrace window fifteen minutes later.
She let them in and they went to sit in the living room.
“That was uncomfortable,” Clint said.
“At the end it was kind of sweet,” Ivy said. “Which was strange, in its own way.”
“I know.” Bryn rubbed her eyes. “Half the time I want to smack him, and the other half I want to comfort him but I’m not sure what to do.”
“Yeah…he doesn’t seem like the hugging type,” Ivy said.
“On to a less awkward and far more interesting topic,” Clint said. “I found more articles about Silver dragons. Supposedly, they were part of a cult and they took Quintessence from specific dragons in order to gain their breath weapons.”
Bryn sat forward. “Try saying that again in a way that makes sense.”
“The dragons sucked Quintessence from each Clan with the help of some ancient spells that gave them the ability to reproduce each Clan’s breath weapon. Think about it,” Clint said. “A dragon who can breathe fire, ice, wind, lightning, and sonic waves would be badass.”
“And slightly crazy,” Bryn said, “due to the whole vampire-type thing.”
“True. But it’s still intriguing,” Ivy said. “And the article hinted at the idea that possessing all the breath weapons would make them invincible…like no breath weapon could hurt them.”
“Wow,” Bryn said. “If that were true they could do whatever they wanted.”
“I think that was their plan. They wanted to be superior to all Clans, even the Blues, so the Silvers would then be the rightful rulers.”
“Wow. I can’t believe the Institute, much less the Directorate, lets students even read these articles.”
“It’s not like any Silvers are around today,” Ivy said. “The last cult member died more than a hundred years ago in a Directorate-sanctioned public execution.”
Bryn cringed. “That sounds medieval.”
“They weren’t nice dragons,” Clint said.
“I get that. Do these articles say which Clan these crazy dragons were from? And please don’t say they were hybrids. We’ve gotten enough of a bad rap lately.”
“No mention of the term hybrids, but it did say they were the result of some sort of rare combination of genes, so that could mean hybrid.”
“Great.” That’s all she needed.
“When you think about it, the driving force behind any cult is the need for power or control, so I’m guessing any clan could be susceptible. The Silvers claimed it was their duty to evolve into superior beings, like super dragons, so there would be peace among our kind.”
“But didn’t they kill the dragons they sucked Quintessence from?” Bryn asked.
“There is that minor detail,” Clint said. “Although some of them kept dragons around and fed off them routinely, like vampires feed off fang groupies.”
“Fang groupies?” Bryn asked. “Seriously? Is that a thing?”
Ivy laughed. “Depends on what paranormal television shows you watch. In some of them there are vampire groupies who allow vamps to feed off them for the sheer joy of being around the undead.”
“Can you say abusive relationship?” Bryn asked.
“I didn’t say it was a mentally healthy lifestyle choice,” Clint said. “And small public service announcement—vampires aren’t real. Though the comparison works. The Silver dragon
s had groupies who hung around and lived on their lavish estates in exchange for allowing the Silvers to feed.”
“Are you sure this isn’t some twisted up vampire story you’re reading?” Bryn asked. It sounded way too bizarre to be true.
“Who knows?” Clint said. “But there are a lot of historical articles about it, and it’s far more interesting than reading those Directorate Law journals.”
“It’s kind of a guilty pleasure,” Ivy said. “We should go to the library and see what Miss Enid knows about them. I bet she could point us in the direction of some great articles for our research papers.”
“A bonus of being in Quintessential Medicine is that we haven’t been assigned a research paper.”
“Yet,” Clint said. “Research papers seem to be a right of passage for senior year.”
“I hope that’s not true.”
…
When they told Miss Enid what they were interested in, she balked. “That might not be a wise topic choice.”
“Why not?” Clint asked.
Miss Enid glanced at Bryn. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you not to share this, but there have been recent reports of Silvers that you don’t know about. Around a dozen years ago it was rumored that someone had tried to bring the cult back to life. Students started coming down with a strange illness that left them exhausted for days at a time. It took the Medics a while to realize that someone was siphoning Quintessence from them.”
“Umm…how could you not notice that?” Bryn asked. “Because I can feel it when I use too much of my Quintessence when I’m trying to heal someone. It literally feels like your life force is bleeding out.”
“That sounds lovely,” Ivy said.
“The cult members were very adept at engaging unsuspecting victims in conversation. They’d brush their hand across the chosen dragon’s forearm a few times. Eventually, they’d lull the victim into sleep. Then they’d siphon what they wanted, perform some sort of spell on the victim to change their memories of where they’d been, and walk away to prey on someone else.”
“That is all sorts of wrong,” Bryn said.