by T. S. Ryder
As she thought about this, Attar started to wake up, yawning slightly and nipping at her collarbone. Her eyes grew big. If Sullivan’s companion could sense that she loved him, could he also sense that she now carried his child? She waited with bated breath to see if the little dragon would do anything unusual but he just laid his head back down and went back to sleep, his tail curling around her neck, making his presence known.
Cynthia sat there, battling her inner turmoil when a customer entered the store. It was one of her regulars. A rubenesque woman who taught gender and sexuality at the local university. “Hey Charlotte, how are you today?” Cynthia greeted her with her usual friendly smile.
“I’m good. Gave my students an exam this morning. I think they all did really well. I haven’t graded them yet but the class has been really engaged this semester.” She said this as she looked through a rack of dresses. “Do you have anything I could wear to a gala. I’m looking for something in black or a navy blue.”
Cynthia picked up her pencil for a moment, twirling it around before she finally put it down. “I should. I think there’s some here in the clearance rack.” She guided the woman toward the back of the store where a wide array of different dresses hung, all up to par with Charlotte’s taste.
“Oh, these are wonderful!” Charlotte exclaimed, picking up a simple, tampered black dress with a boxed neckline. “What do you think about this one?”
“I think it would look really nice on you. Do you want to try it on?” Cynthia asked politely. The woman nodded and moments later she emerged. All her curves accentuated perfectly. She did a slight three sixty in the mirror, admiring her reflection.
“This is perfect. I don’t know how you do it Cynthia, but you always manage to have the best things for girls like us. What’s your secret?” she asked, laughing. Cynthia laughed along with her. A few moments later, Cynthia was ringing out her dress at the register. “Oh is this one of those balls you ask a question to and it tells you the answer?” Charlotte had grabbed the black sphere Cynthia had left on the counter, shaking it, but nothing happened. “Is it broken?”
“Yeah, I was just going to ship it back,” Cynthia lied.
“Oh, that’s too bad,” Charlotte said. “I really wanted to ask it something.” She shrugged like it was no big deal before she paid for her dress and left the store, a bright smile on her face. Cynthia sighed, picking up the sphere once more. She stared at it, asking it one more silent questing before she shook it.
When she looked down at it, the words follow your heart appeared in tiny lettering. She frowned slightly at the indirect answer before she put the ball away. Maybe it was right. Maybe she should just tell Sullivan. If he really loved her as much as he said, then he wouldn’t get mad. Hell, he would even be overjoyed by the news of her pregnancy. Either way, Cynthia knew, deep down, that she needed to tell him.
Chapter Nine
Cynthia closed up shop early that day. She pulled down the metal gate and locked it up. She pocketed the key and then walked the short distance to Sullivan’s antique shop. He was still open, sitting behind his counter, polishing one of his swords. His shop was crowded with a million different things. There were old dolls, furniture, clocks, silverware. The store was a little intimidating to walk into but Cynthia found the warm lighting and the soothing atmosphere welcoming.
Sullivan didn’t even look up, too enthralled with his current task. Cynthia tapped his muscular arm slightly to get his attention. He started slightly, his eyes wide as he looked at her before he smiled. “You scared me,” he laughed, pulling down his work to get up and wrap his arms around her, hugging her tightly before he kissed her lips. “It’s not even five yet, what are you doing here?”
“I decided to close up shop a little early today… there’s something I have to tell you,” Cynthia said, her voice serious. She sat down on an old, high-backed chair that looked like it once belonged to royalty.
“Oh?” Sullivan sat down next to her, fixing some of the knick-knacks he had on a glass table.
“Yeah…” Cynthia said, trying to find the right words to say.
Sullivan could sense the hesitation in her voice and reached out his hand, holding her face gently. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.” He smiled at her, encouraging her.
She nodded and gulped down the nervousness she felt. “Right. It seems I’m pregnant.” She looked into his eyes, seeing them widening to the size of the moon.
“You’re carrying my child?” he asked in disbelief. Instantly, his hand dropped from her face down to her stomach. “Are you sure about this?”
“I asked my magical sphere this morning. It gave me a definitive yes. It’s never been wrong before.” Cynthia explained biting the corner of her lip, toying with the little bit of skin she felt there. “You aren’t mad, are you?”
“Of course I’m not mad!” Sullivan exclaimed, lunging out and hugging her tightly. “I am very excited! I have been alive a very long time and I have dreamt of starting a family for a while now. I couldn’t be happier to start one with you.” His words were clear and confident. Cynthia smiled wildly. She hadn’t been expecting this sort of reaction. She wrapped her arms around him tightly and laid her head on his chest, hearing his rapid heartbeat.
“I love you…” she whispered softly.
He just kissed the top of her head and smiled.
***
They had gone out for dinner that night to celebrate the news but when Cynthia suggested they should go home together, Sullivan came up with a lame excuse as to why he needed to be alone that night. Cynthia found it odd that he was busy all of a sudden, but she didn’t question it. She had a bit of work to do herself.
So Sullivan drove home by himself, his mind already working in overtime. Cynthia was pregnant. That meant he had finally fulfilled the requirements for reclaiming his position in dragon society. He could finally return from exile. But did he want to?
He thought about his family that had been so quick to kick him out when he hadn’t found a suitable partner. It wasn’t his fault that none of the dragon women appealed to him. They hadn’t even listened to his requests, instead, they had just thrown him out, severing all ties he had with the other dragons. It had been a lonely experience in the beginning. He didn’t quite know how to interact with the humans and he became bitter, blaming his race for his miserable experience.
Still, deep down inside, Sullivan knew he wanted to go back. He wanted to sit on the throne and take control of the beautiful Kingdom of dragons. He wanted to once more have the right to transform into his true self and soar above the clouds. He closed his eyes and thought about the last time he had turned into a dragon. It had been forty years ago. Forty long years.
He ground his teeth, arriving at his home. He opened up the gate and drove up the long winding driveway. Would going back be worth it? He had finally settled somewhere and found someone he had fallen in love with. What if Cynthia didn’t want to join him? He sighed, contemplating his options. He could just as easily stay in the human world and no one would be the wiser for it, but at the same time, the thought of reigning as a King, with Cynthia as his beautiful Queen was almost too much to ignore.
Feeling frustrated by the turmoil he was feeling, he went into his house and laid down on his couch, turning on his TV. It was one of the greatest inventions the humans had come up with. Hours of entertainment all at his fingertips. He worked the remote and turned it to the History Channel where a man with crazy hair was talking about aliens. He chuckled, thinking it was absurd that humans believed in aliens but not in dragons.
He reclined, trying to lose himself in the TV but all he could think about was Cynthia. Should he tell her? Should he keep his heritage a secret? He sighed and closed his eyes. Maybe he should just push the thought out of his mind. It would be less trouble that way. Yet, as he started to doze off, his dreams brought him back to Northern Ireland where a glorious throne awaited him.
Chapter Ten
Deep in the b
elly of the castle, Weston Cox paced back and forth. His brother had been banished nearly forty years ago. Now, the throne was his for the taking the moment he turned two hundred and fifty. He had but five years to go and the kingdom would be his. He grinned at the thought. He had mated young and already had three offspring under his belt, making him qualified for the throne. If only his brother would stay out of the picture.
Weston walked up to his scrying orb, making it replay the scene he had witnessed. A full-figured woman was sitting beside Sullivan. Attar, his companion was wrapped around her neck, marking her as his mate. Weston could see the interest with which his brother looked at the woman. He shook his head with disgust. Instead of seeking out the best possible mate who would yield the strongest offspring with a rational mind, Sullivan had been weak, succumbing to his emotions while choosing a partner. Sullivan had always been weak, Weston thought.
Nevertheless, because Sullivan was the elder dragon, he had right to the throne before Weston did. He focused his magic on the orb and the sound of their conversation floated to his ears. “I’m pregnant,” the woman said. Weston’s eyes grew large. If she was indeed carrying Sullivan’s child, then he now had the right to come back to the kingdom. Bile formed in Weston’s mouth as he thought about it. Anger seethed within him, his blood boiling. His dark eyes grew almost black with hatred. He had to do something about this. He would have to pay his brother a little visit.
***
It was weird being in the human world. Instead of flying, he was forced to ride in metal carriages that were either too hot or too cold. The humans he interacted with were all possessed by some strange rectangular things they held in their hands. Weston shook his head, cursing under his breath that he was forced to do this. He was a dragon prince. This was no place for him. Still, if he wanted to secure his spot on the throne, he would have to get rid of the girl.
He conjured up the image of the antique shop his brother now owned. He thought the idea of a royal dragon sitting in a shop all day, selling trinkets to humans was outright ridiculous, but then again, his brother had never been all there in the head.
Weston finally arrived at a large building. There were cars all around him and every few seconds, humans would leave the building with colorful bags in their hands. A group of young women emerged as he walked toward the door, giggling amongst themselves. They nearly bumped into him, but he growled at them, making them quickly move in the other direction. “What the hell is that guy’s problem?” one of them whispered. Weston glared at them and this time, they shut up completely, quickly getting into their car and driving away.
A smile spread across Weston’s face. He enjoyed their discomfort. He was about to reach for the door when it slid open by itself. He looked at it curiously, wondering what kind of magic the humans had managed to attain over the years. He kept staring at it before someone walked past him, rousing him from his trance. He ignored his curiosity and stepped into a large hallway, where his footsteps echoed.
People stared at him, noticing his dark suit and impossibly attractive features. He paid them no mind as he closed his eyes and tried to find his brother amongst the crowd of pathetic humans. Aha! There he was… top floor, the center of the building.
“Mommy, what’s that strange man doing?” A little boy was staring at Weston, pointing at him. Weston had begun to hum softly, channeling his magic. The little boy tilted his head, trying to figure out the peculiar sight, but his mother quickly pulled him away, reprimanding him.
“You shouldn’t stare at people like that, Freddie.” Her voice was low as she glanced at the strange man, feeling uneasy. Should she call security? Not wanting to get into it, however, she just pulled her child out of the mall, trying to forget about the whole thing.
Finally, Weston opened his eyes and walked forward, following the trail his mind had created for him. He had a hard time figuring out the strange moving stairs the humans used to move between floors, but he eventually managed, nearly getting the rawhide lace of his shoe caught in the escalator. Humans were so peculiar, he thought.
Eventually, he made it to the top floor where he looked out at a large Macy’s. He admired the big red lettering, thinking that whoever this Macy person was, they must be quite wealthy in the human world. Maybe even royalty. Did humans even still have royalty?
This thought occupied Weston’s mind as he walked down the corridor. He was about to pass a store with the words Better with Size hanging over it when he heard his brother’s deep, throaty chuckle. He quickly ducked away, not wanting to be seen, hiding in a small crevice between the store and a hallway that led down to the restrooms.
“I’m going to see the obstetrician tomorrow. I thought you might like to come,” a gentle voice could be heard saying.
“What’s that?” Sullivan’s husky voice sounded.
“It’s a doctor who takes care of babies. I’ll have to see one now that I’m pregnant,” the woman explained. There was a pause. Weston edged forward, hoping to catch a glimpse of what the couple was doing, but racks of clothing were in his way.
“Oh, is that so? Well, in that case, I’d like to meet this man,” Sullivan answered confidently. “He’s just a simple human?”
“Yep,” Cynthia said, gazing out at the entrance of her store.
“And you’re sure he’s qualified to deliver the baby? He’ll know what to do?”
“Yes, yes. They’re trained. It’s their job after all,” she reassured him. “As long as the baby is normal, right?”
“Yes, dragon babies look just like human babies at birth,” Sullivan answered.
“Then yes, he will know what to do.”
Weston was finally able to get a glimpse of them, seeing his brother standing close to the woman he had seen through the scrying orb. Her long, caramel-colored hair had been pulled up into a messy bun and her features looked a little different, the corners of her eyes painted in blue. Weston studied her, trying to figure out what his brother saw in this woman.
“Okay, if you say so. If you trust him, so do I.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek before walking out of the store. Weston noticed his human-style clothing and shook his head in disgust. If his brother claimed the throne, it would be a disgrace to his kind. He couldn’t let something like that happen.
When he was sure his brother was settled inside of his own store, he straightened himself out, rolling his narrow shoulders. Confidently, he walked into Better with Size.
Cynthia was writing something in a notebook when she looked up, seeing the wiry figure approaching her. She furrowed her brow, instantly noticing that he looked oddly familiar, as though he reminded her of someone, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. His eyes were dark and his chin was covered with black facial hair. “Hello, can I help you find anything?”
“No,” he said curtly.
Cynthia was a little taken aback by his answer. Her fingers tightened around her pencil, and she eyed the man suspiciously. Weston noticed the thick piece of gnarled wood in her hand and smirked slightly. So his brother’s mate was a witch. How interesting.
“What do you want then?” Cynthia asked through her teeth, trying to remain polite even though she was getting a very bad vibe from this guy.
“You,” he hissed, raising a bony finger in her direction. Suddenly, his eyes turned into green emeralds, with dark slits in the middle, much like those of a cat. Cynthia mistakenly looked at them, feeling her body freeze in place. She found it hard to breathe as if invisible coils were being wrapped around her body.
“What are you doing?” she exclaimed, trying to point her wand at him but before she could do so, it was snatched from her hand.
“You won’t be needing this anymore,” he said with a chuckle. “But it might be useful to me.” He grabbed a piece of paper and started to write down a message in long, fluid handwriting.
Cynthia wanted to scream, but her lips had been sealed shut. She thrashed about, but it was hopeless. She could barely move an inch. Her
eyes were ablaze with hatred as she stood there, shooting daggers at the man before her. “Oh… and you definitely won’t be needing this little pest anymore,” Weston said once he had finished writing his note.
With two fingers, he grabbed hold of Attar, rousing him from his deep slumber. Sullivan’s companion snapped at the unknown finger, but Weston’s magic was strong, quickly pacifying him and turning him into nothing more than a statue, stiff as stone. Slowly, he pried the now lifeless pendant off Cynthia’s neck.
Cynthia screamed silently, pain shooting through her whole body as Attar’s talons were ripped off her skin. Droplets of blood ran down her neck as she gasped for air. Weston grinned, sensing the woman’s pain, but he knew he couldn’t take pleasure in the situation for much longer. With his companion now removed from his mate, it was only a matter of time before Sullivan noticed that something was amiss.
Dropping the little dragon on top of the note like a paperweight, Weston’s mission was nearly complete. Now, all he had to do was imprison the woman where Sullivan would never find her. He grinned, knowing just the place. He pictured the location in his mind, walking up to the woman who kept trying to scream. Of course, her pleas fell on deaf ears as Weston picked her up and after a few chanted words, they both vanished, leaving nothing but a dark smoke in their wake.
A few minutes later, Sullivan ran into Cynthia’s store. It felt like his heart had been ripped right out of his chest. He gasped for air, looking desperately for his lover. To his horror, he saw Attar, laying motionlessly on the counter, but no sign of Cynthia. He rushed forward, picking up the little dragon, who now felt like lead in his hands. As he did, a piece of paper fluttered to the floor. He picked it up, his heart racing.
Dearest Brother,
I hope this note finds you in good health. I hear a few decades in exile can really do a dragon some good. It has come to my attention that you have finally found yourself a mate and that she’s carrying your child. As you’re probably aware, I’ve almost reached my two hundred and fiftieth year and with you in exile that leaves the throne open for the taking, and mark my words: it will be mine. But of course, that will not happen if the woman remains alive. I simply cannot allow you to return to our midst and humiliate our family name any further. I am putting an end to this right now. I hope you realize that it is for the best.