Vane

by Teshelle Combs

  He patted his dragon with a gloved hand and pulled back on his reins.

  Then, he slid off the dragon’s back and walked to where the red and his rider stood, Ava pressing herself against the wall, and Cale still kneeling with his blade drawn.

  Shiloh’s gray skin was pulled tight over his bald, narrow head, and beneath the ghastly tint was a spidery network of black veins. He held up his hand.

  “I am not here to harm you,” he said.

  The words resonated in Cale’s head, his core. It was meant to alleviate Cale’s fear, but it only made him clutch his ears.

  Cale’s rider stepped forward and pointed a finger at Shiloh, her eyes wild with anger. “What the do you think you’re doing?”

  Shiloh stared into her bold, brown eyes, which meant he was challenging her right back. “I am visiting a friend. Is that not admissible?”

  Ava prodded her finger in to his chest. “We’re not friends, Shiloh.”

  “No, we are not.” He looked away at last, a sign of respect—or at least one that no longer meant he was prepared to fight. “But you are kin. We are both riders.”

  Ava’s eyes were daggers. “Let go of my dragon right now, Shiloh.

  I mean it.”

  “Or?”

  “Let’s not play this game.”

  Cale remembered it all. Remembered the first time he’d ever encountered a no-ir—the way Shiloh had called his name and spoken death and judgment over him, the way Ava had run her blade through the belly of the same dragon standing before them.

  Shiloh sighed, acquiescing. He turned his head to his beast and spoke in the whispers of the no-ir tongue—all vowels, all ups and downs, the words like the notes of a cello slurring into one another. Rane shrank before their eyes, becoming as small as an owl, leaving his saddle behind.

  He flew up to Shiloh’s waiting arm and perched, his dark, glinting eyes seeing everything at once. Ava couldn’t help the smile that threatened to sneak to her mouth. “Hello Rane.”

  “Rane gives his greetings,” Shiloh interpreted. “And he apologizes for the rude entry.”

  Rude? Cale was still stuck in the same position, staring at the bits of haning drywall and the wooden beams that had once been the roof. His daze was broken by the whir of police sirens as the authorities hurried to see what damage had been done to the little apartment complex.

  “What do you want?” Cale said, his voice gruff.

  “I have come to request your aid in a matter most grave,” Shiloh answered.

  “And you couldn’t have used the door?”

  Shiloh shifted so that their bedroom door was in his line of sight. “I was in a hurry. I suppose that option did not occur to me.”

  Cale got to his feet, ashamed that he was a bit wobbly. He tried to shake it, to remind himself that every dragon—every dragon in the known world—was afraid of the no-ir. That was how their cores had been programmed. The fact that he could even talk to one without burying his face in the ground made him braver than most.

  “Why would we do anything for you after you destroy our place, Shiloh?” Ava gestured to the ceiling should have been. They’ll throw us in jail. We can’t explain or pay for any of this.”

  “I don’t know what you mean by ‘pay.’”

  Ava blinked at him. “We’re not rich. We don’t have enough money to fix the roof. We don’t even have enough money to fix breakfast.”

  The black rider hummed as he thought, his vocal cords vibrating in his throat. “I have no time to aid in reassembling your home. But I can send food when I return. Only if you will agree to help me.”

  Cale still held his dragonblade. He didn’t trust Shiloh. He never would. How could he ever let his guard down before someone who’d not only tried to murder him, but his rider as well? Who knows how many red dragons the greys have had him kill?

  Ava crossed her arms. “This doesn’t sound like a fair deal.”

  Shiloh’s lips thinned, his features strained. If his grey skin could have paled, it might have. “You will not help because I was unwise in my entrance. I should have been more careful.” But he wasn’t talking to Ava or Cale. It was like he was scolding himself, his black eyes void of any white and filled with tumult.

  Ava held up a stern hand. “Give me a minute.”

  She went to Cale and pulled him into the closet, shutting the crooked door behind them. It was dark, but he could still see her face in the shadows. “We have two minutes before the police get here, so we need to decide fast. Do we hear him out or tell him to get lost?”

  Cale, just far enough from the no-ir and his rider, inhaled at last. “I won’t trust him, Ava.”

  She nodded. She was only inches from him, and he smelled like Cale. His skin moved against hers as they maneuvered in the crammed closet, his breath unnaturally warm against her. Yet she wanted him to back away, to talk to him from across the room. Concentrate, she told herself. Pull yourself together.

  “He helped us. Remember?”

  Cale groaned. “I know. But I don’t like him.”

  “He wouldn’t have come if he didn’t need us. He’s very proud, Cale. Maybe he’s in trouble.”

  “I don’t doubt that. Maybe he sat on someone else’s house before ours.”

  Ava chuckled. “I’m not supposed to laugh. This is serious.”

  “I can’t help it. Comedic genius.”

  She laughed again and couldn’t believe that she was so close to him. It was like a gift. Like someone had carved him and brought him to life and gave him to the person who least deserved him, to the one who wouldn’t mind being apart, just for a little while. The combination of longing and guilt was about to make her sick, when the closet door flew off its already rickety hinges.

  Shiloh frowned at them, dropping the door to the ground. “The human authorities have come. I must leave. Are you two procreating in here?”

  “What?” Cale stepped away from Ava, his cheeks a flaming red. “No, we’re not having…we’re not doing…”

  Ava rubbed her temples, suddenly aching. In fact, all of her hurt. It was like she was allergic to her own skin. The ripple of gold across her arms and hands was beautiful, if not for the discomfort.

  “Shiloh, tell us what you need.”

  “I will bring it to you. Soon. Be vigilant. And for the sake of God above, tell no one I came to you.” And he took the funsized Rane and leapt through the open window. Rane changed back to his larger form mid-air, stretching impossible wings and multiplying in size until Shiloh and the saddle landed on his back. A few flaps of his leathery wings and the no-ir pair vanished into the void.

  And before they could catch a breath, there was a knock on the door so loud, it rang through what was left of their walls. Ava hurried to answer, opening it to find a tall, well-built police officer. His mustache was such a burly brown it might have belonged to a woodland creature. He kept his sunglasses on, even though the sun was far from showing its face.

  He stepped inside, toothpick in mouth, his thumbs looped in his belt. “There’s been a disturbance reported here ma’am. I’ll need to ask a few questions.”

  “Uh…sure.” Ava was aware that she was still in her pajama shorts. She hadn’t minded in front of Shiloh and Rane, and certainly not in front of Cale. But something about the way the man’s mustache twitched beneath his sunglasses made Ava wish she was in her usual jeans and t-shirt.

  “Are you alone?”

  “No.” Ava closed the door behind her. “My dr—uh…my friend is here with me.”

  He tilted his shades as if he meant to meet her eyes, but all she could make out were eyebrows as dense as his lip hair. “Is he the cause of this domestic dispute? Are you in danger, ma’am?”

  “What? “ Ava almost laughed at that. “No, Cale is not a danger to me. We’re fine.” Maybe if you weren’t wearing sunglasses in the dark, you could see that.

  The police officer wandered towards the bedroom, almost running into Cale. But her dragon didn’t give a polite apol
ogy and step aside. He crossed his muscled arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes. “Who are you?”

  “I’ll be doing the asking, boy.” The officer flicked the toothpick with his tongue. “Step aside and don’t get testy.”

  Ava hurried over and tugged at Cale’s arm, moving him out of the way so the officer could investigate the bedroom. “What’s wrong with you?” Ava hissed at him.

  “I don’t like him,” Cale said, his teeth clenched too tight for the words to sound out. He switched to red tongue, so the man could only hear mumbles. “He’s trying to hurt you.”

  Ava shivered at the sound of the new language. She wasn’t used to the way the guttural rises and falls flooded her brain and became words. It was more like she felt the language than understood it. And she certainly couldn’t speak it. “He’s not going to hurt me, Cale. He’s a cop.”

  But Cale wouldn’t take his eyes off the man. “You’re right. He’s not going to hurt you. I won’t let him.”

  “Cale—”

  The officer came out, said something no person could ever discern into his radio, and looped his thumbs into his belt again. “You have a name, girlie?”

  Ava could feel Cale tensing beside her. She put what she hoped was a calming hand on his arm. “Ava Johnson.”

  He nodded, took out his notepad and scribbled it down. Then he headed over to their fridge and pulled it open. He took out his camera phone and snapped a picture of the bare contents, then kicked it shut. “Not much for food here, girlie. Your mother working?”

  Ava chewed on her lip, growing more uncomfortable while Cale grew more defensive. “She’s working. Why? What does that have to do with the ceiling caving in?”

  He didn’t answer, just chewed on his toothpick. “You’re Jim Johnson’s girl, right?”

  Ava’s world shifted, everything just a little off kilter, at the mention of that man’s name. She’d almost forgotten he existed. “Excuse me?”

  “Get out,” Cale said, his voice cloaking his growl.

  “I would be real polite, boy,” the officer said, his mustache growing still, his sheathed eyes glaring into Cale. “I’m just gathering information for my report. No need to get agitated.”

  “To answer your question, I’m not Jim Johnson’s girl. Never was. And legally, never will be again. So unless you’d like me to call your supervisor and let him know you’re harassing me, I’d suggest you close that notepad and find your way out.”

  He flipped his notepad closed. And the corner of his mustache turned up in a flicker of a sneer. “Belligerent. I expected as much. I’ll be sure to report these poor living conditions to the proper avenues of our child safety associates. I hate seeing innocent children in need of a firm, guiding hand.”

  And he left, closing the door behind him with a smug click.

  “Ava…” Cale started.

  But she rubbed her temple, and closed her eyes. “I should have recognized him right away. He played poker with Jim all the time. I’d just never seen him in uniform.”

  “He’s not going to report you to child services, Ava. And if he does, they won’t find anything.”

  She swallowed, wishing she was thirsty. Normal people would be thirsty after all this. “They’ll poke their heads around. Jim will make sure of it. But I’ll be eighteen before they can make anything stick. Trust me, I’ve been through this. The system moves slowly.”

  Cale sighed. He was so tired, it was unsafe. “We should find someplace to sleep.”

  Ava nodded. “I bet the landlord will have to give us something. A motel maybe.” She grabbed her keys before realizing that it was silly to lock the door when they didn’t have a roof. “Hey Cale?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Don’t tell Miriam.”

  “Which part?”

  She sighed. “Any of it. All of it.”

  “I’ll let you do the talking.” Meaning he would let her do the lying.

  Cale didn’t know which was worse. The fact that Jim might try to steal Ava or that the black dragon rider who’d tried to kill them more than once was calling in a favor. Or that Ava looked relieved to be walking to the landlord’s apartment without him near her.

  She wants me. She’ll always want me. He told himself that. He needed it to be true. But he didn’t dare try to say it out loud.

  Two

  Normal

  A whisper. He held up a hand and sat up bolt-straight in bed. He signaled for Ava to wait where she was. Then, he took up his dragonblade and pressed the blood red gem on the handle so that the long, dark sword sprung to life.

  Silently, he crept down into the O’Hara’s living room, crouched behind their leather sofa. He peeked golden slivers of eyes over the back, watching. And then he felt a ripple up his skin, a warmth grow in his chest. It meant…

  Ava. His rider kneeled next to him, her own dragonblade in hand.

  Cale’s eyes glinted at her. It didn’t matter that he’d told her to wait. She never listened. And there was no way for Cale to explain to her how it scared him worse than death to think something might happen to her. He almost wished he’d picked someone who was a bit more timid, more fearful.

  There it was again. The soft click of the window shutting. Cale held his ground. The window? Sirens weren’t the type to enter so politely. They liked to squeeze through cracks in garage doors, or even through keyholes. He’d never heard of one climbing in through a window.

  “I don’t understand why you’re going back to them.”

  It was a girl who spoke. Dark hair, even in the moonlight that gleamed against her. Hair that fell in gentle waves about her. The white cloak over her shoulders was rough-sewn from dragonthread. As Cale breathed from his hiding spot, he could smell Ireland on her. He had to focus to keep the longing for open, Irish air from overtaking him.

  But she wasn’t alone. Their silhouettes splashed with silver light, they stood only inches apart. She put a hand on his shoulder, clutched his black cloak in her grasp. “Stay,” she whispered.

  He took her hand and pressed it to his lips. Then he lowered his head, left a kiss on her belly. When he stood, she looked into his eyes.

  “How long?” she asked. Her voice shook, but she held his gaze as long as he could stand it.

  He looked away, as was the no-ir custom, and touched gloved fingers to her lips, as if they were magic, as if they were not to be touched, but he had learned how.

  “Not forever,” he answered.

  Cale knew that voice. He had heard it call out his name on the plane to Peru, felt the pain it sent rushing through his cells. He knew it because he dreamed it all the time—that it was coming back for him, that it was coming for Ava.

  But before Cale could move, Shiloh—his gray skin luminous as he turned away—was gone, stepping out of the window and climbing onto his black dragon before vanishing into the abyss.

  Cale had his blade drawn as he approached the girl who stood alone near the open window. Killing her would be easy. Killing anyone who had hurt his rider would always be easy.

  But the lights flicked on, and Miriam, who until then had been fast asleep in her room, shrieked at the sight of Cale rushing an unarmed girl, especially one with such a large bulge beneath her thin dress. Cale froze. Ava froze. And Miriam, for once in her life, did something. Her dishwater blonde hair stuffed into pink rollers, she grabbed Cale’s arms and shoved him away.

  “What on earth is going on here?” Her pale blue eyes did their best to glare at Cale. “Were you trying to hurt this poor girl?”

  “Yes,” Cale said, but as he lowered his weapon, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion. He hadn’t sensed danger from the no-ir rider and the girl. Not like when Shiloh destroyed their old apartment, not like when he ripped that airplane to shreds. If there was danger, he would have known it.

  “He has every right to be angry,” Juliette said in her gentle way, her Irish accent sweet as it left her mouth. “Even to kill me.” But her hand fluttered up to her round belly.
/>   Cale stumbled backwards. “Leave,” he growled. It was middle ground. For someone who’d offered up his rider to an army of sirens, staying his wrath and asking her to get out was more than generous.

  Ava sighed, and took Cale’s hand, leading him away from Juliette. “Sit down, Coston,” she said over her shoulder.

  Cale whipped his head to his rider. “Ava, no.”

  Ava led Cale to the sink and poured him a glass of water. The next glass she took over to Juliette, who was waddling to the O’Hara’s sleek sofa. Juliette took the water and guzzled as if she had been on the brink of death.

  “Thank you,” she said. And it sounded like she meant it. “Your hospitality is more than I expected.”

  “She has to leave,” Cale said from the kitchen. “I want her gone.”

  Ava went back to him. “The girl’s pregnant,” she said. “And she looks exhausted. We should let her rest.”

  Cale glanced over at her. He was too kind. Ava knew it, and Juliette knew it. “You stay where I can see you.” Then he turned to Ava. “And she doesn’t lay a hand on you.”

  “That sounds reasonable,” Ava answered. “But you stay back here, before you hurt someone.”

  Miriam had already found Juliette a pillow and was refilling her water. “I never,” she scolded, shaking her head at Cale as she passed by him.

  Ava peered out the window, looking for signs of Shiloh and his black dragon. The neighborhood was still, the cars and trees all asleep. Shiloh was truly gone.

  “I didn’t think no-ir could show up anywhere without destroying the place,” she remarked.

  Juliette took another sip of her second glass of water. “I’m actually surprised Rane was so careful.”

  “So are you going to explain why you broke in through the window one in the morning?”

  Juliette paused, her green eyes speckled with the brown that belonged to most red dragons, studied her glass. “He told me you would help us.”

  “Us? Who’s us?”

  She looked up at Ava. “Shiloh and me.”

  “He’s a slippery bastard. He could have just told me it was you.” He could have told me a lot more, too.