Steel Dragon

by Kevin McLaughlin

  Tendrils of wind sucked her inside the behemoth of a cloud.

  Within, all was darkness. Wind battered her from all angles, so she immediately became disoriented. She couldn’t find her way out and when she tried to flap her wings, great gusts of silver scales blew away. Each one left a tiny spec of exposed skin—human skin—and she began to hurt. She gritted her teeth, determined that she wouldn’t let the pain consume her mind.

  The lightning already did an excellent job of adding to her agony. It cracked louder and louder and great big bolts moved vertically and diagonally, within and throughout the cloud like nerve impulses in the brain.

  Kristen felt that she knew what the cloud was thinking—horrible, malevolent thoughts that chilled her. It sought to rip her wings from her body like a cruel child would an insect and cast her to the earth.

  She had to escape!

  Despite her renewed attempts to find a way out in every possible direction, nothing freed her. Instead, she constantly found Sebastian Shadowstorm hiding in the clouds. He smiled at her and gave her false courtesies and sweet little lies while his dragon claws harnessed lightning and used it to blow her delicate scales off.

  A bolt struck her. She expected it to feel hot and painful like the gunshot had but instead, it was as cold as ice. Rather than pain, she simply felt drained of all power.

  In the next moment, she was in human form once more and plummeted earthward. She heard only two sounds—the rush of wind in her ears and Shadowstorm’s laughter.

  Dreams of falling weren’t new to her, so she half-expected to wake before she impacted the apartment block that rushed to meet her. But either the drugs or the vibrancy of the dream kept her in it, and instead of waking, she pounded into the building.

  Her momentum drove her through floor after floor after floor. Each shattered beneath the weight of her steel skin and concrete, tile, and metal girders tore like paper. None of it slowed her descent, though. She continued violently through the levels of the building until she reached the basement and landed in a swimming pool.

  It was only a few inches above her head but she couldn’t get out of the water. She tried to swim but she was too heavy. Her lungs began to burn and she had all but given in when a red-and-white buoy splashed above her. She caught it and pulled herself out of the water long enough to see her brother Brian holding the rope attached to it.

  He pulled on it but despite his large frame, he yanked himself into the pool. In the next moment, it wasn’t a pool but the Detroit River and she struggled to release the rope in which she was now tangled. As she sank deeper and deeper into the muck, she dragged him with her. Despite her burning lungs, she didn’t drown. Her brother wasn’t so lucky.

  Her thrashing pulled his bloated body to her and she screamed and screamed and screamed. She could feel her aura affecting everything around her. The fish fled, people left the shores of the river, and the entire city of Detroit emptied out, all because of her. Her pain was their pain and her death would be their death. But rather than let the creatures of her domain perish with her, she forced them to flee and to abandon their master.

  No one remained to bear witness to the monster that was the Steel Dragon.

  There was no one left to help the person who defended the city.

  She listened, but no one called her name.

  “Kristen! Kristen, wake up. You’re having a nightmare.”

  She woke abruptly and sat bolt upright. Her left arm ached from the effort, but her neck and chest felt better. She looked at her steel skin and, with effort, turned it off. Her transformation had already pushed out the IV that had been in her arm. The needle lay beside her and oozed watery-looking blood. She wished her steel skin could have forced the bullet out the same way it had forced the needle out.

  “Smooth move, ex-lax. You turned your steel on and off, over and over. You probably short-circuited all their equipment.”

  Kristen looked over to identify the speaker. It was the Wonderkid, Jim, who leaned against the doorframe. He gestured at the now useless IV on the bed. She took a deep breath and forced herself to lay down in the hospital bed.

  “Smooth move, really? What are you? Like seven?” She managed to say. It sounded snarky despite the fact that she still felt the terror of the nightmare tight around her throat. But this was how SWAT dealt with terror—you laughed in its face.

  “Wow, I gotta say I’m impressed you can still talk shit. I thought that after the big bad dragon girl passed out from an itty-bitty bullet, you’d be all quiet and meek by now.”

  “You wish, Washington.”

  He smiled. “I don’t. I really don’t. And don’t call me Washington, not anymore. We know each other too well for that.”

  That drew a responsive smile. He was right, of course. “Thanks for being here, Jim.”

  “No problem. Anyway, do you really think I’d miss this? Do you have any idea how much money I could make from the tabloids by selling what the Steel Dragon mumbles about when she has a bad dream?”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  Jim shrugged, entered the room fully, and sat on a chair next to her bed. “Maybe I would. Maybe I’d like to make an easy ten grand and go on a little vacation. I’m sure the dragons who run this world behind the scenes wouldn’t have any problem with that whatsoever. After all, they respect human lives and all that.” The sarcasm in his voice was palpable.

  Before she could protest that not all dragons were like that, his tone changed. “Of course, I wouldn’t piss off the only dragon I’ve ever met who really does care about people, so your secret is safe with me. But I am curious. Who is Brian? You said his name more than once.”

  She nodded. Of course she had talked in her sleep. She always had. While she was a dragon with powers unlike any other, she still mumbled in her sleep. No wonder the other dragons didn’t ever seek her out. They must have found her entirely too human. Even her dreams ended up being human dreams. “Brian is my brother.”

  “Oh, right, of course. Drew mentioned that.” There was something in his voice that set her on edge—like Brian was more than simply a name mentioned over beers and was maybe a detail to remember, a part of a case.

  “Why did Drew mention my brother?”

  He shrugged awkwardly. He was obviously holding something back from her.

  “Jim, why did Drew tell you about Brian?”

  Her teammate took a deep breath. “He sent a detail to your house as a precaution. No big deal. We think it’s very clear that the sniper had targeted you and the identity of the Steel Dragon isn’t exactly secret. You were out cold, so Drew and the captain thought it was better to take precautions. You know how it is.”

  “Has something happened?” Kristen demanded and saw right through his attempts to downplay the situation. She sat up again and a fresh wave of pain surged through her shoulder.

  “Yeah, something happened. A sniper shot you in the damn shoulder. If you sit up like that again, you’ll rip your damn arm socket to pieces. Take it easy.”

  Jim leaned forward and touched her wound tenderly. It was bound in gauze, but he still seemed to be able to tell something about the wound. He was a veteran, she remembered. He’d probably seen any number of dressed wounds.

  She ignored his concern. “I need to check on my family.”

  He merely shook his head. “No, you don’t. Not yet.”

  “Yes, I do.” Her aura rose unbidden, ready to make him want to obey her desires and to feel what she wanted him to feel. She pushed the power down, determined not to use that, not now and not on her friends.

  “Look, I know you have your fancy powers, so give me a second to check how fancy they are. Sit up slowly and let’s see what’s going on.”

  A little mollified, she nodded and sat with his help. It didn’t hurt when she didn’t jerk upright out of bed.

  “Now, rotate your shoulder gradually…good. Exactly like that. Now, see if it’s an ache all over or if you have twinges of pain.”

  She
rotated her shoulder once again. “It aches, but honestly, it feels worlds better.”

  “Good. That’s really good, Kristen. It means you’re on the mend. Your freaky dragon powers are doing their thing to take care of your freaky self.”

  “Do you always talk to dragons so disrespectfully?”

  “Only when they’re injured.” He grinned. “They can’t chase me as well then.”

  Kristen wondered if he understood the seriousness of that statement. She now knew there was much that Shadowstorm hadn’t taught her, but healing power was one ability they’d spent a fair amount of time on. She called on it now and urged her body to focus on the wound and to use all her internal resources to mend the torn flesh and skin. Her teammate probably didn’t realize how short the window was in which dragons were actually injured.

  “I passed your little field test. Now, let me check on my family. Where’s my phone?”

  “I have it right here.” He tapped the pocket of his shirt. “But there’s more you should know. You weren’t out long, but the situation has developed.”

  She stared at him, a little startled before common sense kicked in. Of course, she’d been unconscious, but the idea that the world had moved on and gone about its business while she was out filled her with a sudden pang of dread. This was her city filled with her people. She couldn’t be out cold and dead to the world. “How long?”

  “Only a few hours. The morphine should have kept you under for at least eight, but I had a feeling the Steel Dragon wouldn’t rest easy.”

  Okay. That was better. At least she hadn’t missed a day. “Did they catch the asshole?” she asked with way too much hope in her voice.

  Jim shook his head and she nodded. She wasn’t so naïve as to think that someone as skilled as that sniper had been would have waited around for the cops to arrest him.

  “They found his position, though. It was the room you and Butters saw. They’re combing through it now, looking for evidence, asking people on that floor if they saw anything—the usual, nothing a dragon needs to worry about.”

  “Great. So let me check on my family.” She knew there were many things she could do that the regular cops couldn’t, but collecting evidence was one area she didn’t have any expertise in. If the sniper had left anything at all, she was confident that her team and Detroit PD would find it. Which meant she didn’t need to worry about that.

  It was Brian who sprang constantly into her mind, Brian she kept pulling underwater and into the murk and gloom of the river.

  Her teammate looked around conspiratorially as if he didn’t want to be overheard. He scooted his chair closer and reached into the other shirt pocket—the one that didn’t have her phone. “There’s more, Kristen. Look, I might get in trouble for sharing this with you, but…well, you and I were both working outside the law on that last mission, and it’s a good thing we were.”

  “I was tracking you and you think that was a good thing?”

  He shrugged. “If I hadn’t had made that contact, we would never have exposed Shadowstorm, and if you hadn’t followed me, I’d be dead. The way I see it, the only mistake I made was not telling you. I won’t make that mistake again.”

  Kristen smirked. How odd it was to be such close allies with the Wonderkid. When he’d first arrived on the force, he’d hated her simply because of what she was and now, he wanted to recruit her for a clandestine operation? Almost dying together did things to people. In this case, it had brought them closer.

  Jim pulled a plastic evidence bag out of his shirt pocket and put it on the table beside her. It contained what appeared to be a bullet, except it didn’t resemble any she had ever seen. The shape was the same but beyond that, it looked like something from an Avengers movie.

  For starters, it wasn’t made of metal but of an orangey-red material that made her think of lava rock. There were cracks and fissures down the sides of it and the top of the projectile was deformed slightly, but to her, it looked remarkably intact. “Is that what…”

  He nodded. “This is what they pulled out of you.”

  “What the hell is it?”

  “It’s a bullet, but one I’ve never actually seen before. I’ve heard of these, though. It’s made from dragon scales.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “I certainly don’t think it’s funny.”

  “How did you get it?”

  “As soon as they wheeled you out of surgery, they bagged it and gave everything to the police for safekeeping. It’s a good thing you can trust police—you know, like me.”

  “This is supposed to be in evidence?” She was incredulous. Of course, she’d heard of cops stealing from the evidence locker, but never on Detroit SWAT. Captain Hansen ran a tight ship.

  Jim shrugged. “No one knows it’s missing yet. And it’s not like I’ll let you keep it.”

  She rubbed her face, not sure of what she thought about taking something from evidence and not sure if she even cared. This was bigger than SWAT. “Why dragon scales?” she asked after a moment.

  “You know that I…uh, used to be fairly obsessed with hating dragons.” He at least had the decency to look embarrassed but pressed on. “Well, they say dragons can’t be killed with lead. Your physique is…well, different. I’m sure that if someone unloaded enough bullets directly into a dragon’s heart or your brain, that would do the job, but it would take a ton of lead. These things interrupt the healing process or interfere with your immune system or something. Whatever it is, the Internet’s fairly damn certain that a bullet made from a dragon is the best way to kill a dragon.”

  “What the fuck does that mean?”

  “It means this guy not only knew where you were and what you were but had a damn good idea how to eliminate you.”

  “Did they recover the other two bullets that hit me?” she asked.

  “Yeah, but I didn’t bring them. There was no point. They weren’t interesting enough.”

  “They weren’t like this?”

  “Dragon? No. They were armor-piercing rounds, though, and two different types if you can believe that. The asshole wanted to kill you with a single shot, but he was prepared in case he didn’t. The other two shots were probably to test your steel skin.”

  Kristen peeked under her blanket and looked at her chest. There was slight bruising but nothing serious. The bulletproof armor had done its job. She held her right hand up —the one she’d use to block the third bullet—and looked at her palm. Already, a huge purple bruise had blossomed. That had almost broken through, which meant if the sniper tried stronger rounds, he might get through.

  She focused her healing power on the bruise on her hand instead of her left shoulder. If she had to shoot a gun, she’d need her right hand. The purple began to fade away as her blood worked through her body to restore the damage.

  The wound in her shoulder was more stubborn, no doubt because of what that bullet was made of.

  “Well…that’s better than three dragon rounds.”

  Jim shook his head. “I don’t think so. I think that if it were three dragon rounds, we’d know Shadowstorm had simply given a marksmen a number of them. They’re damn expensive—we’re talking tens of thousands of dollars apiece—but I’m sure Shadowstorm could afford that unless there’s a code about dragons not using them.”

  He eyed her and his old biases flickered in his gaze before he grimaced and shook them away. “No, what concerns me is that this guy is familiar enough with dragon rounds to know that they’re not particularly good at shooting through metal. I’ve found some mentions of this idea, but it’s difficult to acquire any solid info. I’m worried our sniper wants to conserve his supply of these so was looking for your other weaknesses.”

  “It’s a good thing he didn’t find them.”

  His frown remained in place. “That’s true, but he also confirmed that he can get under your skin if he can get the bullet to you before you hear the bang and armor up. He’s also eliminated two types of armor-piercing rounds
to try. I don’t like this at all, Kristen. I think we’re dealing with someone who knows a fair amount about killing dragons.”

  “It’s a good thing you did so much research into killing our kind. Hopefully, you can reverse-engineer a profile on this scumbag.”

  “Your kind, really?” He raised an eyebrow.

  Kristen sighed. “I didn’t mean that. It slipped out. My kind likes pizza with ham and pineapple and plays way too many videogames.”

  “What are you talking about? Pineapple on pizza? That sounds horrible.”

  “It’s my brother’s favorite topping, Jim. Now give me my phone so I can call him, please.”

  “Right, sorry. Here you go.” He pulled the phone out of his other pocket and set it on the table beside the cracked dragon round. “Are you still worried about him even though it’s most likely a dragon-killer out there? He should be fine, right? I thought your family was normal.”

  “They’re definitely normal, but if this guy knows about dragons, he might come for them. That’s why Drew sent a unit to my house. He knows Stonequest enough to know that… Well, you must know that dragons see humans as property?”

  The man’s scowl could not have been fiercer. “Yes. I do. Sometimes, I wonder if rich white folks would have enslaved my ancestors if not for their shithead dragon role models.”

  All she could do was shrug at that. It was impossible to speculate at what a world would look like without an incredibly powerful, self-centered ruling class. “Well, my family counts as the Steel Dragon’s number one possession. If this person is really targeting me and not Detroit PD, they might set their sights on my family.” She forced her voice to remain calm and didn’t want to mention that she’d also dreamed that her abilities were killing her brother. That had merely been a dream. Dragons weren’t prophetic, but that didn’t make the nightmare any easier to swallow.

  She unlocked her phone, opened her favorites, and touched the picture of her brother stuffing two pieces of pizza in his mouth. He didn’t answer so she called again.

  “It’s around dinner time. I bet they’re eating that gross pizza. I’m sure they’re fine,” Jim said.