“There’s more to being a dragon than being quick and strong.”
“But my steel skin—”
“Is interesting,” Stonequest said and cut her off. “Perhaps even unique. If the world were made only of humans, you could rule, no doubt, but we are dragons who have slain dragons. As long as you are stuck in your human form, you wouldn’t stand a chance against us.”
“Bullets bounced off me,” she protested.
He narrowed his eyes. “I’m not here to threaten you, but don’t think you’re above us either. As long as you’re in this form, you are weak and cannot challenge us. All I would need to do is order Heartsbane to snatch you up and drop you in the river. Steel sinks.”
“I can change back—”
“And we could try other things. The volcanoes of Iceland aren’t terribly far for beings such as us. We could drop you in one of those. It’s not like you could fly out.”
Kristen paled.
Stonequest smiled, although it was hard to tell if it was genuine with his slitted orange eyes. “But like I said, we’re not here to threaten but to welcome. For the time being, you are to stay with the humans and continue to grow. Once you begin to realize your full potential, we’ll be in touch.”
She nodded. There really didn’t seem to be anything else she could say.
He seemed to know this as he gestured at the other two dragons behind him. They all transformed from their human shape and took to the skies.
Numbly, she watched them vanish into the night.
After a moment, she realized that the rest of her team had watched the entire exchange.
For a moment, no one spoke. Finally, Hernandez broke the silence. “And I thought I was a bitch.”
“They weren’t so tough,” Keith added and limped over to the group from the back of one of the ambulances. “Okay, yeah, they can fly and breathe fire and probably pick up a police car, but can they play airsoft?”
“I bet they wouldn’t know gumbo from jambalaya,” Butters added.
“Come on. Let’s get back to the station,” Drew said. “I heard that asshole say you’re stuck with us humans for a while, which means none of us will do your paperwork for you. After all, great powers to manifest and all that shit.”
“I don’t think he meant I had powers over paperwork,” she protested but laughed. She realized her steel skin had reverted to normal. Suddenly, she was exhausted.
“Why else would he wish you to stay with us?” Beanpole asked. “You defeated a small yet extremely well-equipped army. What more is there to learn than how to properly file a report?”
She shook her head and smiled at the insanity of it all. While she had no idea what the future held, she was glad her team would continue to be a part of it.
As soon as he had seen the police officer rise with steel skin, Mr Black had left his human form and the warehouse of gang members behind.
He’d become the black dragon, leapt across onto another nearby warehouse, and transformed into human form in a swirling cyclone of shadow and smoke. When he descended the stairs of this adjacent warehouse, his two personal guards waited for him with an armored getaway vehicle. He had expected to be successful, so it was a little frustrating when one of his men proffered a chilled bottle of champagne.
“Not tonight,” he muttered angrily at the human. “Get me out of here.”
“Sir?” The device that blocked the radios was useful when fighting coordinated human forces, but there were disadvantages like having to explain to his guards what happened.
“Another dragon was forced to reveal herself this night. In doing so, she unraveled my plans for this wretched city. Still, I don’t believe she wished to reveal her powers, and even after all these centuries, information is still the most precious currency.”
“Where to, sir?” one of them asked. The other guard offered him a cigar. The black dragon told himself he’d give that one a raise.
“Take me to my den. Her aura is giving me a headache. Also, there’s…yes, dragon SWAT will be here soon. I’d hoped to deal with their masters from a place of power, but now—with this steel dragon emerging from nowhere—I don’t wish to reveal myself yet. If I know anything about them, Dragon SWAT and their masters will try to keep the presence of this new steel dragon quiet, which suits me perfectly. After all, the dragons I know will be very interested to hear about a new player in the Motor City…very interested indeed.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Drew had not been lying about the paperwork. By the time she was halfway through with it, her right hand ached from holding a pen for three days straight. Time spent on the shooting range was less physically demanding, she’d thought morosely more than once. Worse, there was the fact that she’d had to confront the identities of all the people she’d killed.
Despite them being criminals who’d killed Jonesy, after three days of reviewing their files, she felt guilty at ending all their lives so quickly. A few of them had kids. Some had wives. More had girlfriends or boyfriends. Kristen knew all but a few of the truly wretched would be missed. Hell, even the monsters would probably be missed. Human beings were funny when it came to emotions.
But the hostiles having friends and family only made their behavior even more confusing. These had been people who had tried to take over with guns and explosives. They would have burned the whole damn city down—their own city. What compelled people to take up arms and turn them against their homes? Detroit certainly had its fair share of protests in the past, but people armed with machine guns and rocket launchers trying to entrap SWAT was a level far beyond protests that turned violent. Had a dragon made them all behave so monstrously?
She didn’t know and as far as the paperwork was concerned, it didn’t matter.
Her team leader put a hand on her shoulder and broke her from the paperwork-induced stupor. “Hey, Hall. It’s time.”
Without a word, she nodded, stood, and followed him out of the station and into a police car. Butters was in the back seat. He remained silent and simply looked at her with a stoic grimace.
Drew turned the lights on but not the sirens and pulled out. Keith eased out behind them in another cruiser with Beanpole riding shotgun and Hernandez in the back. They drove in silence for a time until they made it to the funeral parlor.
“The viewing should be over soon,” Drew said.
He was right and after a few minutes, people carrying a casket emerged from the funeral home and loaded it into a hearse. But it wasn’t an “it” they loaded. It was Jonesy.
Kristen had already been to see the body. The coroner obviously hadn’t known the man. He’d put makeup on him to cover his pockmarked face and persuaded his mouth to show a wry smile. Jonesy didn’t smile. He sneered, he scowled, and he spat, but she had only seen him smile when he cussed someone out—and he wasn’t cussing at anyone now.
The hearse pulled out and Drew followed it, leading the procession of police cars through the Motor City. She tried to keep herself from crying—they were driving in a funeral procession, after all, so there was no reason to weep yet. But when she heard Butters sobbing in the backseat, she stopped pretending like losing Jonesy didn’t hurt and let herself mourn. The tears stung at first. It was like admitting he was dead all over again, but after a minute of pain, she began to feel better. It was amazing what a human could adapt to…or a dragon, she thought dully, still in shock at what she’d learned about herself.
“He was a pig, you know?” the sniper said.
Drew nodded. “It’s Jonesy we’re talking about. Show some respect. He was a fucking pig. A goddamn fucking pig.” He stopped and dragged in a breath. “I… God, no one could curse like him, not even Hernandez.”
“Don’t mention that to her. She’s in worse shape than anyone else,” Butters mumbled.
She didn’t know how it was possible for anyone to feel worse than she did. Jonesy died because of her—he’d taken those bullets for her, and he’d died because of it. And to think that if h
e hadn’t jumped in the way, her steel skin probably would have stopped them anyway. “At least she didn’t kill him,” she blurted.
“Neither did you,” Drew said with a sharpness that surprised her. “A criminal with a gun did. Don’t forget that. I’ve seen too many officers blame themselves for the actions of a moron with a gun.”
“But if I hadn’t blocked that bullet in the pawnshop, maybe he wouldn’t have tried to protect me and I would’ve transformed sooner. No matter how you look at it, his death is my fault.”
“Don’t you fucking do that Hall.” His curse sounded as fierce as Jonesy’s ever had.
“But it’s true. If I had used my powers, I could have—”
“I don’t give a shit about your powers, but I guess you’re right. We all could have used a bulletproof dragon warrior a little earlier in the fight.”
“Then why are you screaming at me?”
“Don’t you dare act like Jonesy wasn’t a goddamn hero. He would’ve taken those bullets regardless of whether you’d taken any for him. He was a hero. A goddamn hero.” That cracked the man’s stoic façade. He clenched his teeth and wiped his eyes before the tears could spill from them.
“Of course he was a hero,” Butters said from the backseat. “Do you think we would’ve put up with his bullshit if he wasn’t? He was a loud, disrespectful—and if I’m totally honest—racist son of a bitch. He made more enemies than friends and was a constant pain in my ass, but damn if he wasn’t a good cop. He didn’t let that shit get in his way either. He didn’t curse out shoplifters or shoot black kids in the back like some cops do. He left his politics at home but not his damn tongue.”
“Exactly,” Drew said. “He was a fucking asshole, but he was a great fucking cop.” He shook his head and forced himself not to cry.
They arrived at the cemetary, and the six of them—Kristen, Drew, Butters, Beanpole, Hernandez, and Keith—carried Jonesy’s casket to his grave.
There were speeches and tears. She listened but all she could think about was the man about to be lowered into the grave. In the end, she threw a handful of dirt on the casket.
It almost broke her heart, but she knew Jonesy had lost people. Everyone on SWAT had lost people, so she didn’t let it overwhelm her. She’d continue to fight and keep this city safe for the people he had left behind.
Brian had refused to go to Buddy’s and instead, insisted that she pick up one of the pizzeria’s uncooked pizzas so they could eat at home.
She hadn’t minded until she’d realized that her brother had ulterior motives.
“I still don’t believe it. There is no way my sister is a dragon.”
Kristen rolled her eyes for what felt like the thousandth time. “Brian, what’s there to believe? Look.” She’d practiced changing her skin to steel and back and had gained some measure of control over it. After a deep sigh, she held her hand up in his face and turned it to metal.
He shrugged. “Big deal. So, you learned a trick. I’m not impressed.”
“It’s not a trick, Brian. Watch!” She snatched one of her mom’s kitchen knives and stabbed her palm—or she tried to anyway. The blade broke.
“You could’ve weakened the knife. And besides, I’ve seen gloves that can do that on the Internet.”
“Then you choose a knife. Stab me anywhere and see what happens.”
“If you two think you can ruin all my knives over some sibling squabble, you have another think coming,” their mother snapped. “Now, dinner is ready. Wash your hands and come to the table .”
They obeyed her, washed up, and sat at the table. Kristen felt more relaxed than she had in days. Being home felt normal again. Brian still treated her the same as he always had, and her parents? Well, they were still her mom and dad, exactly like they’d always been.
She’d been adopted but so what? She could deal with that. At the end of the day, that wasn’t what mattered most. The love and care her parents had shown her all her life were what truly counted.
“I thought dragons were supposed to have, like, super-great reflexes.” Her brother tossed an olive at her face. She batted it away.
“Brian! Don’t pester your sister,” their mom protested.
“I do have good reflexes. I beat you in everything we’ve ever played.”
“Not video games. You can’t even win at Mario Kart!”
“I can too.”
“No fucking way.”
“Brian! Language!” their mother said, venom in her glare.
“What? Dad talks that way.”
“Your father was on the police force for thirty years. He has earned the right to swear every now and then.”
“Did I hear that shit right?” Frank swaggered into the room.
Marty smiled her smile that said it was not the time to argue. “Of course you may swear, you know that, but not at the dinner table. And Kristen, you are a lady. You’d better not pick the habit up.”
“But, Marty, I’m not a lady, I’m a dragon. That’s what I’ve been telling you.” She turned her skin into steel and back to flesh.
“Mom, Kristen’s showing off,” Brian complained.
“Kristen Hall, if you call me Marty again, I will throw you out on the street and let your brother eat all your pizza.”
“That’s your name.”
“Not to you it isn’t, young lady. I don’t care if you’re a dang gold dragon, you will respect your mother,” Frank said, but the heat wasn’t in his voice. He grinned even wider than Brian did. “But, for your old man, do the silver skin thing again. It’s too cool.”
She smiled and flickered her steel again, which drew an even bigger grin from her father. Kristen shook her head. He wasn’t Frank to her and he never would be. The man was her dad and he always would be.
It made no difference to her that she was adopted. She didn’t care that this wasn’t her biological family, and—under this roof at least—she didn’t care that she was a dragon. She knew her family didn’t end here, though. Not being related by blood to these people made her new bonds with the SWAT team feel all the more important, but she would never forget where she came from.
Although, if Brian didn’t shut up, she would totally use her powers to beat him at video games.
Chapter Twenty-Six
For Kristen Hall, facing hostiles and the real possibility of coming under fire felt like déjà vu. The entire situation seemed like an almost-duplicate of her first live action as part of SWAT, although with a couple of notable exceptions.
Exactly like the first time—which had also been her encounter with hostile fire—the criminals were in a pawnshop. Also like her first time, it was her job to sneak into the back through an alley. This time, she didn’t wear a bulletproof vest or a helmet. Her somewhat naïve rookie self hadn’t known what it felt like to kill someone. Now, she knew and didn’t like how easy it could be.
But the biggest difference was that her partner Jonesy was dead.
She had taken a bullet for him in that too-similar assignment, only to have him foolishly return the favor to save her life at the cost of his own. Except he hadn’t saved her life, not really, because neither of them had known she was a dragon—and not merely any dragon, but a steel dragon. If he hadn’t jumped in the way, Kristen’s powers might have activated and he’d still be—
Consciously, she dragged herself away from that line of thought. There was no point in dwelling on what she couldn’t change. Not now and not on a mission when she could damn well make sure nothing like that ever happened again.
“I counted two hostiles back here,” Keith murmured. “We enter. You take the one on the left and I’ll go right. Butters should be able to hold down the last guy in the front.”
Kristen nodded, even though she had absolutely no intention of doing what he said.
They stalked forward through the back of the store between rows of bicycles, lawnmowers, and work-out equipment people still hoped to buy back from the pawnshop before the items made it onto the
showroom floor. At the end of the room, a door opened into a tiny armored airlock of a room where the pawnbroker usually worked.
Currently, the access was wide open and the two hostiles had their heads turned away from the SWAT duo to look into the store itself.
“We should have the drop on them—” Keith said but stopped when she sprang into action.
She rushed forward and tapped into the increased speed that being a dragon gave her. It brought her to the first guy before he so much as turned toward her. She caught him by the shoulders and hurled him overhand toward the back of the storage room she and Keith had come through. Fortunately for him, he collided with a punching bag rather than the wall, but the impact made enough noise for the other hostile to turn toward her.
He fired before she could reach him. The shot would have been wide but he was armed with a sawn-off shotgun, so a hundred mid-sized BB’s peppered her abdomen.
His gleeful anticipation of what he obviously considered the inevitable outcome faded to an expression of shock. “I hit you!” he whined and almost sounded petulant.
“You forgot to call no tag-backs.” She transformed her face and arms into steel to match the part of her body the hostile had tried to injure. He yelped and dropped his gun when she grasped him by the right shoulder and squeezed.
“I think technically, that makes me it,” Keith said and sauntered toward her.
“Hmm?” she turned to him and lifted the criminal off the ground at the same time.
“One of the BB’s got me,” her teammate said, wiped his brow, and showed her a bloody hand.
Kristen’s stomach twisted. Keith had gotten hurt—he was actually bleeding—and it was all her fault. Without thinking, she tightened her hold on the man’s shoulder. A bone crunched under her grip before she hurled him across the room. He catapulted into a row of bicycles that clattered on top of him. Although he groaned in pain, he didn’t move any more than the man she had thrown into the punching bag.
Steel Dragon Page 19