by Ann Gimpel
I told my cock to stand down, but it never listened to what I wanted. Surely, she could feel the length of me pressing into her belly. I was embarrassed, but I’d tossed fuel onto the pyre with my kissing imagery.
I gave myself a good mental shake as the kitchen walls shimmered into black nothingness. What lay ahead would require 110 percent of my concentration. I had to convince first myself, and then whoever examined me, of the purity of my intent.
That I wanted to become a dragon shifter for myself, not so I’d be more attractive mate material for Katya. She was so close, though, she was all I could think about. My cock twitched, harder than it had been a moment before. To divert myself, I drew out a few calculus equations in my mind and set about solving them. When that proved too easy, I went through the periodic table, listing the elements in order with their respective atomic numbers.
Katya’s rich contralto rose and fell around us. Her words were in a language I’d never heard before. I was certain I’d be able to pick it up, given half a chance. One of the advantages of growing up in Europe is we all speak several languages with a few dialects tossed in on the side.
I didn’t detect any sense of movement after the kitchen vanished. We appeared to be suspended in a black void. In defiance of the laws of physics, I could see Katya. The warm glow that surrounded her was far more pronounced here. When she fell silent, I asked, “Is there anything I should be doing?”
“I don’t believe so. I have petitioned the dragon shifter god on your behalf. Now we wait.”
“How long?”
She tilted her head and looked at me. “As long as it takes. You humans are a literal bunch. Time isn’t nearly as important as you believe.”
“It is if you only live eighty years or so—give or take a decade.”
“True enough. Quiet your mind. It may speed things up.”
I nodded. I was nervous, although men hate to admit such things. When I’m edgy, I fill in with talk, but Katya had all but ordered me to remain silent. I tried closing my eyes, but that didn’t last long. Control may not be much more than an illusion on the best of days, but I liked to believe I had the upper hand.
Except in this situation, I didn’t. I was the greenest of neophytes, and I’d do well to hold that knowledge front and center.
A buzzing grew around me until my ears complained. Pulsing, pounding, shrill. I raised my hands to clap them over my ears and realized Katya wasn’t there anymore
“Katya!” I yelled her name, but she didn’t answer.
When had she left?
Why hadn’t she told me?
Without her, why wasn’t I plummeting down through blackness? What was keeping me suspended in this void?
Aw shit. Without her, how would I get back? Was I destined to float in this alien place forever?
If I was, how long would forever entail? Maybe not long since I’d die without water in short order.
Except this wasn’t Earth. Maybe things were different here. Maybe—
“Stop!” I shouted the word. My mind was on a rampage when what I needed was calm. No one—magical or otherwise—would want anything to do with a raving madman.
The buzzing stopped as abruptly as it had begun, leaving my ears ringing.
I’ve never been much for frou-frou things like meditation, but I sucked in a breath, a big one, all the way to the bottom of my lungs. After holding it there, I blew it out slowly and repeated the process.
I focused the entirety of my consciousness on breathing. When I had a handle on it, I added a few bits like imagining peace and tranquility filling me when I inhaled, and uncertainties leaving with every exhale.
I feel sheepish to admit this, but it did make me feel better. More settled. More balanced. Maybe there was something to that meditation crap after all. I’ve always respected the Dalai Lama, and I felt ashamed for doubting the cornerstone of Tibetan Buddhism. I have no idea how long I floated, but long enough to become resigned to nothing ever changing.
This wasn’t all that bad.
I’d been in worse places, like when the Russians broke my femur and left me for dead. Guilt pricked. I wanted to help save Earth from the serpents, but I couldn’t do it from here.
More time passed. I might have dozed off and on. The next time my eyes flickered open, I said, “I’m ready. I wish to become a dragon shifter.”
Nothing changed. The endless vista of black didn’t even flicker.
“I’m ready,” I repeated, my voice louder this time.
“Are you?” An amorphous voice echoed around me.
It startled me, but I kept right on floating. What choice did I have? I started to ask who’d spoken, but didn’t. Somehow I understood this wasn’t a juncture for me to question anyone. I opened my mouth to say, I think so, but changed it out for one word. “Yes.”
I had to project confidence.
Doubt would be my undoing.
The buzzing rose again, following by a crackling like sheets of aluminum foil rubbing together. My womblike existence shattered, and I was swept into another dark place, except this one lacked air. I longed for my thick suit; it might have held a few residual oxygen molecules within its weave. As it was, I tucked my nose into my down jacket. It didn’t help much.
My lungs first ached and then burned. The ringing in my ears grew louder, and my vision narrowed. I shouldn’t be able to see anything, not without a light source to reflect back, yet I could see my body. I sucked at the airless ether reflexively. My lungs were on fire.
Christ!
If I was going to die, I’d have preferred drowning. From everything I’ve read, it was easy after that first sweep of water entered your lungs. Suffocation, on the other hand…
Shut up, my inner voice shouted. Dead was dead. What difference did the manner of its making matter?
A cavalcade of everyone who’d ever meant anything to me marched through my fading mind. I should fight, but what could I do? After three minutes, my brain would begin to die. Once it checked out, nothing else would work, either.
Something like a giant horse’s hoof kicked me in the rump. I catapulted through a barrier that cut through layers of fabric, shredding my clothing, and landed sprawled on my belly, gasping like a gutted fish.
It took a moment for me to understand I was breathing again. Wherever I was had air. I got to my hands and knees and rolled to my feet remembering the voice that had come out of nowhere asking if I was ready.
I winced. I’d made a horribly poor showing. If a dragon was out there somewhere, I was certain it had left in disgust. A quick look around convinced me I wasn’t beneath Antarctica anymore. This place had ancient evergreens, but they weren’t any variety I’d ever seen before. Their needles were shades of blue and silver. Brush grew beneath the trees in the form of a manzanita-looking plant with shiny orange bark and red leaves.
The dirt was normal color. So were the rocks. Rolling land extended as far as I could see. From overhead a sun shone in an ochre sky, but didn’t produce any warmth. It wasn’t cold, not by Antarctic standards. Perhaps minus two Celsius.
My oxygen-starved brain was coming back online. If I wasn’t at Katya’s, and I wasn’t in the void between worlds, it had to mean I’d passed the first test. I was on a borderworld.
Elation filled me, rolling upward from my toes.
I wanted to whoop, to cheer, but after making an arse out of myself during the transit from where I’d been separated from Katya to here, I opted for a more dignified approach. I started by tucking shreds of my tattered down jacket into holes the barrier had sliced through it. Feathers floated around me.
Where was Katya?
I didn’t believe she’d have left me unless something forced her away. In her own way, she was as much of a control freak as me. I couldn’t envision her embarking on a project and abandoning it partway through.
I turned in a full circle, checking to make certain I hadn’t missed anything. My ears had quit ringing, and the tempting sound of running w
ater reached me. I was thirsty. God only knows how long I’d hung in the place between worlds. Nothing else was happening, so I angled toward where I was certain I’d find water.
Would it be safe to drink?
I grimaced. What a twenty-first century question. Men had been drinking water out of creeks, brooks, and lakes forever. It was only during the past hundred years or so anyone had questioned the practice.
I ducked beneath a particularly lush tree, and a small, babbling brook skittered past my boots. The water was clear. I squatted and cupped my hands. The sight of them, dirty and stained, brought me up short. Rather than using my hands as a cup, I lay on my belly and dropped my mouth into the flow. After a tentative swallow, where I determined it tasted like water, I drank until I wasn’t thirsty any longer.
If the stream contained some stray microbes that did me in, so be it. I couldn’t carry on with whatever my life had turned into if I suspected everything was out to get me. Nothing would be familiar, and I had to suck it up and get used to it.
I got my hands and knees under me, moved back into a crouch, and spied a reasonably flat rock. This was a peaceful spot. If I had more waiting to do, it was as good a place as any. After brushing dirt off the front of me, I settled on the rock.
The rushing creek was mesmerizing, but I did my damnedest to remain alert. I had the oddest sense something was lurking unseen watching me. But maybe I’d imagined it. My eyes wanted to close in the worst way. I fought the sensation, but my lids grew heavier and heavier.
Just when I was starting to wonder if I’d stumbled into a reenactment of Rip Van Winkle—at least he woke up eventually—images took on a kaleidoscopic quality behind my half-closed lids. When I gave up and let them fall, an emerald-green dragon took shape. Huge and beautiful, its wings were spread, and its golden eyes whirled.
“Are you my dragon?” I flinched at my presumptuousness, but I couldn’t take the words back.
“Are you my human?” it countered, its words resonating inside my head. Understated humor laced its question, and I knew it was mocking me. Strangely, I didn’t care.
I felt humble in the creature’s presence. Everything Katya had cautioned me about, including the importance of maintaining the upper hand, frittered to dust.
“I’d like to be,” I replied.
“Take off your clothes and stand in my presence.”
I hastened to comply, but it felt like I was swimming through thick honey. My motions were slow and clumsy. Finally, I stood naked and shivering a little. My eyes were open, so of course the dragon had disappeared.
“Open your mind to me,” thundered through my head.
I held an image of the dragon and imagined dropping all my boundaries. It was hard. I’d always held a part of myself aloof from everyone. To rip myself open down to my very foundations required a leap of faith.
Either I did this or begged the dragon to help me return to Earth. A half-assed attempt would be worse than none at all. Several times, I reached a place where I was certain I’d done everything I could. When nothing happened, I dug deeper and peeled back one more layer.
I discovered parts of myself I’d forgotten about. Parts I hadn’t fully known existed. Regardless of today’s outcome, I understood myself a whole lot better. If by some miracle Earth survived, I hoped I’d be less of an arrogant jerk when the tide wasn’t running in my favor.
With no warning, something sharp blasted into the center of my chest followed immediately by what felt like hundreds of razor-sharp knives piercing my skin. I wasn’t imagining it. Blood spurted from gashes all over my body. I smelled it and felt its thick heat gushing down my flesh.
I ground my jaws, did everything in my power to hold back the scream in my throat. Men didn’t screech. The sharp thwack of bones cracking undid me. I hollered, bellowed, squealed. I fell to the dirt since my broken legs wouldn’t hold me upright.
Had the dragon found me unworthy? Was that why it was killing me?
“Visualize me,” it shouted into my mind. “Jump into my body.”
“How?” The word tore out of me, drowned by the next scream. How much more could I hurt before I blacked out?
My eyes were scrunched shut, but I couldn’t see the dragon any longer. Had all this been a hallucination? Not the pain part. My body was truly broken beyond hope of redemption. No one could be hurt this badly and survive.
Maybe there’d never been any dragon at all.
“If you do not believe in me, you will die, human.”
A ringing slap across my cheek forced my eyes open. Katya bent over me, her face contorted by fury and horror. “Goddess damn everything. Johan. Reach for your dragon. Do it now.”
“I cannot see it. Not any longer.”
She gripped the sides of my face; her power flooded into me. I had no idea if my eyes were open or closed, but the dragon hovered in front of me, forelegs extended and fire blazing from its mouth.
With the last dregs of my strength, I reached for the green behemoth, imagined blending my consciousness with it. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Every part of me hurt. The only thing holding me steady was Katya’s magic wrapped around me.
And then it too departed, and I plunged into blackness.
Chapter 4
A Short While Earlier
Katya still floated in the place between worlds, but a different spot from where she’d been next to Johan. The dragon god was here. He’d spirited her away. Knowing it was probably useless, she raised her mind voice and called Konstantin, but her brother didn’t answer.
“What are you doing?” she screamed at Y Ddraigh Goch. “Johan’s helpless in a magical world. He needs me.”
“His dragon must ensure he is worthy of the bond,” the god replied.
“I don’t care. You had no right to drag me from his side. He won’t understand what’s happened.”
“You forget yourself.” Y Ddraigh Goch drew himself up to his full height. Despite him being in his dragon body and her being human, their heads were level with one another. His scales were silver and gold, and his eyes held an endless collage as they told one story after another, chronicling dragon shifters from the beginnings of time.
Katya recoiled. She’d always had a temper, but the god was right. Even if she didn’t agree with what he’d done, she’d overstepped her boundaries by a good big bunch.
“I’m sorry, but he trusted me—”
“And now, he will have to trust me,” the god cut in.
Hot words bubbled from her throat, but she bit her tongue. Johan wouldn’t have understood why she suddenly wasn’t by his side, arms wrapped protectively around him. Worse, he’d have no idea what to do.
“Look at me, daughter.”
Katya tilted her head back, regarding the dragon god.
He nodded. “Better. You came to me, requested the human become a dragon shifter. Do you not have faith he is strong enough, resourceful enough, to find his own path?”
She tried to look away but couldn’t. The question was a two-edged sword. If she didn’t have faith in Johan’s courage and ingenuity, she had no business petitioning for his transformation.
“It’s not that I don’t have faith…” She faltered, but then more words forced their way through. “I didn’t instruct him sufficiently, mostly because I had no idea how the process would unfold.”
“It hasn’t happened often,” Y Ddraigh Goch agreed.
Katya chewed her lower lip and chose her next words with care. “If I give you my word not to interfere unless it is absolutely necessary, will you tell me where he is?”
“Do you offer a blood bond?”
“Absolutely.” She would have done anything to return to Johan’s side.
“Hold up your hand.”
She did. He dipped his mouth until he nicked her fingers with his sharp teeth, binding her with her blood. Katya drew her hand back and waited. She’d done her part. Time dribbled past; she remained floating in the liminal space, eye to eye with the d
ragon god. She didn’t wish to anger him, but worry bit deep.
Finally, she couldn’t stand it any longer. “I gave my word.”
“I understand.”
She wanted to ask why she was still here and not where she could keep an eye on Johan. Instead, she tempered her question. “When will I be allowed to keep watch?”
“Soon. I am orchestrating this venture.”
“So you’re watching over him?” It was the first piece of maybe decent news she’d had since being yanked from Johan’s side.
The god’s eyes zeroed in on her, reminding her she’d overstepped herself—again. “Keeping him safe isn’t my job. He must be strong. The first transformation is very difficult.”
Which was precisely why she wanted to be there. If the lore was correct, many humans had died. Katya couldn’t hold the words back. “Why am I still here? I gave you my word. My blood.”
“He may not need you.”
But I need him.
The thought cut through her like a knife, sobering her. It was the first time she’d admitted to herself how much Johan had come to mean to her. When she’d floated the idea of him becoming a dragon shifter, she’d assumed she’d be there, overseeing every step along the way.
If the other dragon became unruly, she’d planned to shift to her beast and— And what? Browbeat it into submission? The bond didn’t work like that. She had no control over any shifter binding beyond her own. Guilt left a foul taste on her tongue. She’d been a fool, and Johan would be the one to pay for her hubris.
“Please.” Her voice wavered. “If he dies because he trusted me…”
“He would have died had you returned him to anywhere on Earth,” the god reminded her. “Perhaps not as quickly, but the serpents are intent on establishing dominion.” He shook his great head; fire flew from his jaws. “I should have expunged them from all worlds when I had a chance. Once I banished them—misplaced mercy, if ever there was such—I lost the opportunity.”
“I see.” Katya nodded.
“Some outcomes are worth risking everything for, Daughter.”