Fianna the Gold

by Louisa Kelley

  Miriam, who watched the interaction without comment, said in a rush, “I’ll get food and water and a first aid kit.” She avoided Abbie’s eyes and fled as if chased.

  If she really could chase her, her sister-self might just kill her and her cohort Marcus. That cheerful thought rallied her for a second. Abbie commanded, “Shift NOW!” as fiercely as she could, and damn the consequences, but the fury in Abbie’s blood burned in useless heat. She sensed a sticky, dark presence acting like a monstrous wall, trapping her from her Draca sisters, even from her own inner self. She limped over to the bed in despair, holding her sore side, and stretched out with a groan. The muscles in her lower back twitched in mini-spasms.

  Find out I’m a dragon, and two days later, get captured and imprisoned by a dragon family member, she thought sourly. Not only that, Marcus also happened to be the boss of her House on Dracan. Fianna had told her he was the one who’d discovered her. He’d been able to sense her presence in Portland because of their bloodline connection. No wonder the old bastard caught her so easily. But she was destined to go to Dracan anyway, so why was he caging her here? She had a thousand questions.

  Abbie let out a bark of laughter. This was so her life. The most awesome thing that had ever happened to her was turning to shit. Just like it always did. Magic, powers, spells, whatever. None of it was doing her any good now. Didn’t matter that the Weird Box had been emptied out. Another one had shown up to take its place.

  God, she was exhausted. Abbie’s eyelids grew heavy, and she let her aching muscles sink into the mattress.

  Chapter Twelve

  Dragon Rescue

  Fianna and Guin screeched into the clearing on the mountain where they stored the car and flung themselves out. They ran, shifted in motion, and arrowed to the evening skies for the short flight to the cabin. Circling over the house, alarm grew when they spied a gaping, blackened hole on the back end of the structure. The dwelling stood dark and silent, the curtains drawn, and the entire grounds reeked of foul magic. They dropped, shifted, and raced to the house, screaming for Orla.

  “Orla!” Fianna yelled. “Where are you?”

  The front door hung open, revealing the beautiful new living room smashed to pieces. Fianna and Guin ran through the rooms, calling for Orla and noting the damage in growing fear. At least the Fire Agate sat intact, still atop its throne in a sea of broken glass and crockery. The jewel gleamed an ominous, violeted glow of warning.

  Signs of struggle littered the entire house. Frantic, they followed the trail of broken and smashed objects to where the reek of smoke was strongest. Whatever happened must have climaxed in the first-floor bedroom. The bed and furniture were upended, smoke had blackened everything, and most of the rear wall stood exposed to the outside. Sheetrock and splintered wood hung open in an awful gash. Cold, damp wind blew in and the ominous scent of dark magic grew stronger.

  “Orla!” Fianna screamed. “Where are you?” She and Guin jumped through the damaged wall to the outside. Their predator vision gave them perfect sight as the forest sank into nightfall, and they scanned the property for signs of life.

  About three hundred yards away, a blonde figure lay face down and motionless. Fianna’s heart stuttered. They ran and fell to their knees next to Orla’s body, which was still locked in a partial shift. Scales covered her exposed back and streaks of blood ran down her arms.

  “Orla. Oh, Gods, sister!” Fianna rolled her over with care.

  “Is she alive?” Guin asked, anguish filling her voice.

  “Yes, she’s breathing.”

  Not only was she still breathing, she clutched the bloody dracophone against her chest. She moaned when they moved her, her grip on the dracophone visibly tightening.

  Orla’s eyes fluttered open. Alarm filled her face, then profound relief. “Am I dead?” she asked in a weak voice.

  “No, but someone else might be,” Fianna said, her voice shaky. No one wore any clothes, and she cursed that she’d forgotten to bring their bag and had nothing to cover Orla with.

  “I don’t think he’s dead. At least, not yet.” Orla coughed when she tried to sit up and fell over.

  “Stop moving, brave warrior,” Fianna ordered, as she gently pried the dracophone out of Orla’s protective grip. Orla groaned with the movement. “Let us check you out.”

  “What hurts the most? And who did you almost kill?” asked Guin.

  Orla issued a weak growl. “Guess.”

  “Marcus,” Fianna said, feeling sick. “This better be the results of dracfire, because if it’s not, we have a horrible new problem.” She checked Orla for injuries.

  It took a lot to bring a dragon down, and Fianna was grateful for the hardiness of their species. Nothing was broken, but her ribs were badly bruised and bloody cuts marked her arms and shoulders. A jagged purple mark spread across her cheek. Orla’s sister-self still shivered in traumatic reaction, and the sisters-Draca launched a healing croon to help settle Orla’s dual nature.

  “Did you beat the shit out of him?” Guin asked.

  Orla’s face crinkled in weary disgust. “I did my best. His brother-self is a dirty fighter—ow!” She clutched her ribs in pain when Fianna tried to help her to a sitting position.

  “Let’s get you in the house and warmed up,” Fianna said. “Then you can tell us everything.”

  Fianna tucked the dracophone under her arm as she and Guin helped Orla to the master bedroom, which surprised everyone by being the only room in the house undamaged.

  Guin gently saw to Orla’s injuries, while Fianna held her hand as she talked. The fury they all felt over the attack burned as a primal need for revenge. The sisters-Draca were ready to kill Marcus the Bastard, as they’d renamed him.

  Orla began in a weak voice, “He showed up out of nowhere and demanded the Fire Agate. He said the Council had put him in charge of everything, but of course, I knew he was lying. He said he was keeping Abbie for himself. I think he meant here, in Portland—for what he called a ‘special project.’ I told him I didn’t believe a word of it, and that’s when he went crazy. He started yelling, but I couldn’t follow, his words were all mixed up in Drackish. Sounded like garbled nonsense, crazy talk. Then he came at me and, before I knew what he was up to, punched me in the face! Of course, I hit him right back and the fight was on. I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t even understand what we were fighting about. Talk about bizarre, battling with the Council Leader. I didn’t have time to think, only react. Then he made a run for the dracophone, which I knew couldn’t be allowed. I tried and tried to reach you all on the net. Where were you?” Orla’s plaintive question broke Fianna’s heart.

  “I know, love, I know, we couldn’t hear you, either.” Fianna smoothed the bloodied blonde hair. “It’s why we raced back here. We knew something was wrong.”

  Orla sighed. “I beat him to the dracophone but then he chased me all over the house. He cornered me in the back bedroom and I swung the dracophone and hit him on the head as hard as I could.” She stopped to take a sip of the herbal tea Guin brought her. “Didn’t stop him, though.”

  “Who put the hole in the wall?” Guin asked.

  “I think we both did. We started shifting into Draca battle mode, and someone, or both of us, kicked through the wall. After that, things get kind of fuzzy. I can’t remember who was chasing who, but we ended up in a full-tilt aerial fight.” She coughed, holding her ribs. “It was nasty. His brother-self bites, goddammit. I think he may have torn one of my wings. I’ve never had to fight like that for real, only in training simulations. But—wait.” Orla stopped short with an alarmed look. “Where’s Abbie? I can’t believe I didn’t notice until now. What did you do with our dracling?”

  “She’s still in Portland,” Guin told her.

  “What do you mean, still in Portland?”

  “Long story,” Fianna said. “Finish telling us what happened and we’ll fill you in after.”

  Orla looked from one to the other. “You don’t know whe
re she is, do you?”

  Guin pressed her lips together and slid a glance at Fianna.

  Orla fell back against the pillow. “Oh no, please don’t tell me Marcus has got her.”

  Orla put to words what Fianna feared most. “Tell us how it ended with Marcus,” she said. “Then, we’re calling the Queen.”

  Orla’s lips tightened. Her next words came in a growl. “He got away from me and flew back to the cabin. I followed, but not in time to catch him before he shifted again. I think he was going for the Fire Agate. However…” She paused and a flash of bitter satisfaction crossed her bruised face. “When he tried to get in the door, our handy magical device decided to get busy and exploded out a massive wave of repellant magic, literally blowing Marcus on his naked ass across the entire clearing. He went down, shifted, roared, and flew away, but not before he swiped me hard with one of his wings and knocked me out so I couldn’t follow him.”

  “How did you end up with the dracophone out here?” Fianna asked.

  Orla shook her head. “Not sure. These magical objects have minds of their own.”

  Fianna kissed Orla’s forehead. “You’re incredible,” she said. “Your own power called the dracophone to you for protection. You did so well, my sister. Thank you for your brave fight.”

  Orla’s eyes filled with tears, and she reached her arms out to her beloved sisters. Fianna and Guin leaned into Orla’s embrace and a much needed, healing group hug. They held each other, and breathed in the renewed strength and comfort that closeness always brought. Tensions had been high for days, and their tattered connection sank into the warm body contact with enormous relief.

  “Okay, so, now tell me where Abbie is,” said Orla after a minute, swiping the tears off her face.

  A sudden buzzing noise made everyone jump and the dracophone glowed red, indicting an urgent call from Dracan.

  “Perfect. Right on time,” Fianna said, as she lunged for the phone on top of the dresser. “This has to be the Queen.” Her hands shook as she pressed the heated crystals. She waited with mounting anxiety as the silence between the two realities stretched on longer than usual.

  Nareen’s voice came through the receiver faint and crackling with interference. “Fianna. Where is Abbie? I think she’s in danger from Marcus.”

  “We know. There’s been an attack at the sanctuary.” Fianna quickly filled her in. “Is it dracfire?”

  “Yes,” Nareen answered, sorrow in her voice. “So very unfortunate. It’s making him more cunning than ever, though. I didn’t realize the extent of his dracfire until the wily old dragon managed to steal the transformation spell.”

  Fianna flashed a look at Guin. It was exactly like she’d said.

  “No Draca in history has done such a despicable act. He’s power-mad and delusional.”

  “Are you coming here?”

  “Yes, after I take care of related urgent matters. The grimoire must be secured, among other emergencies.”

  “What should we do in the meantime?” Fianna asked.

  “Fetch the dracling and get her back to the cabin immediately. I’ve no idea what Marcus is capable of in this condition. The sanctuary is the safest place for her.”

  Fianna agreed, and explained what had happened in Portland and what they’d found at the human’s house. Orla’s eyes widened as she listened, her face thunderous at the mention of Blackwood.

  The shocking import of this information stopped the conversation cold. After a loaded pause, Nareen spoke in a tone that gave Fianna chills. “So you’re saying we’ve got a mentally unstable Dracan on the loose, colluding with humans to build and cage something, judging by the historical nature of Blackwood. This is all very bad news. It is time to put a stop to such nonsense.”

  Fianna gripped the receiver. Was the mission over? Were she and her crew going to be yanked home by the alarmed Queen?

  Then Nareen surprised her by saying, “Can you handle things there for a little while longer, Fianna? I do believe you are the wisest choice to return Abbie to us. Either I, or some of the Council Elders, will be there shortly to offer support.”

  Relieved that the return of Abbie was still in her hands, Fianna answered with every ounce of determination she had. “Absolutely. You can count on us, My Queen. We’ll bring Abbie home safely to Dracan. Have no doubt.”

  “Quite a redemption mission this has turned out to be,” the Queen said. “I’d make the most of it, if I were you. Contact me as soon as you get back to the sanctuary. Also, I’m sending a few spells to the Agate. I think you’ll need them. One in particular will help you get to Portland faster.” The connection came to a sudden end.

  The need to hold Abbie in her arms and get her to safety beat like a war drum in Fianna’s blood. The collective sisters-Draca were held on a very thin leash. Playing it safe was off the table now. Time was of the essence, which was why her shifter instincts focused on the spell Nareen had mentioned. “I’ll be right back,” she said, and clattered down the stairs.

  The gem’s color gleamed neon green, filled with lacy yellow magic, indicating new spells being sent by the Queen. Fianna placed her hands on either side of the warm stone, and received the hoped for answer. “Oh, fantastic,” she breathed, and raced back upstairs, where she announced, “Nareen sent an invisibility spell.”

  “Screw the car.” Orla crowed. “Let’s go.”

  “So say we all!” cried Guin.

  Fianna sensed everyone’s spirits lifting with the promise of unexpected help. They eased Orla back down the stairs and stopped in front of the pedestal. Fianna invoked the illusion spell for later use, and they continued out into the chilly fall night. The meadow beckoned ahead, visible in the moonless dark to their shifter senses. They aimed for the cliff, supporting Orla’s limping form between them. Her injuries would heal as soon as she shifted.

  Their unity bound them, strong and sure. The telepathic and spirit connection between them had rebonded, save for one, their precious dracling. No one doubted they’d bring her home.

  One by one they dove off the cliff, shifted and soared into the night sky. Dracan territory stretched for an approximate hour of flying time before they’d be visible in human space.

  Fianna sailed through the evening air, allowing herself a brief respite in tension. She sank into her other nature and reveled in the cracking stretch of her wings, and the tug of her massive muscles against the wind. Her entire dual spirit sighed in shape-shifter relief. Since they’d been in Portland, her predator nature hadn’t gotten near the usual flying time.

  Tonight, there was no time for play or aerial antics. They flew straight on until Fianna felt the sting of the sanctuary borders and slowed their progress. They hovered close together, while Fianna called out the spell within her and sent the magic whirling around them in a whoosh of power.

  The sister-selves cackled in delight as they disappeared into low lying cloud. They liked this new game. Their energy signatures caused barely a ripple in the atmosphere as they streaked, invisible above the Columbia River, west to Portland.

  Fianna prayed the spell would stay until they got to the warehouse in northeast to collect their stored car.

  “Let’s fly over Abbie’s house first,” Orla suggested to the collective. “We’ll sense if she’s there or not.”

  That would really test the boundaries of the spell, Fianna thought. Was there enough power to check for Abbie, and still make it across town? “Abbie,” her sister-self declared. Their shifted natures would sense if Abbie was there, without having to confront the strange roommate again. Trusting the wisdom of her other self, Fianna aimed them to the inner city. Three dragons flew incognito above southeast Portland and couldn’t help being gleeful over the trick. They did a cautious fly-by, careful to avoid telephone and cell towers. The streets were quiet with light traffic. They flew over Abbie’s house once and then back.

  “She’s not here,” Fianna said. “Blast the girl.” They rapidly conferred, feeling time running out on the sp
ell. The edges of the magic had already thinned and Fianna glimpsed a shadow of a claw appear from Guin’s back foot when she dropped below the cloud line.

  They flew on to the warehouse, located in a deserted industrial area. There they shifted and changed into clothes always kept stored in the building, along with a fleet of vehicles.

  “This is insane,” muttered Orla, as she climbed in and slammed the car door shut. “All this back and forth in stupid cars.”

  No argument there, Fianna thought, feeling the frustration of the group. She focused on the goal. They agreed Abbie probably went off looking for them, which would have sent her southwest. It was the only lead they had. If she and Guin could sense the energy around that estate, Abbie would, too.

  Blackwood in the yard. Construction in the house. The pieces clicked in her head. “He’s building a trap,” Fianna concluded. “And Abbie’s going to walk right into it.” She pressed the gas pedal, imagining wings on the car. They had tried to reach Abbie on the link, with no luck so far, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t listening. Fianna sent out a heartfelt “We’re coming, baby dragon!” and hoped she’d hear.

  “Feels like we’re going into battle,” Orla said.

  “No.” Fianna was firm. “No more battles. Not if we can help it. We snatch our girl and get the hell out of there. The Council will take care of the rest.”

  “I bet Marcus built a cage for Abbie.” Orla kicked the back of the car seat behind Guin. “You know he’s got to be there, scheming with whoever he’s snared into his crazy dracfire delusion. Shouldn’t we try to take him and his partners in crime down, too?” She aimed another kick.

  “Ow,” said Guin from the seat in front. She shot a pained look over her shoulder. “Feel better? Come on, Orla, you heard what the Queen said. Bring Abbie to the sanctuary. Call home. Period.”

  Orla growled.

  Guin said, “Do you need a hug?”

  Orla snickered and kicked the back of the seat again. “What if Abbie’s not at this property?”