The price is high—many hundred people died on both sides, thousands are injured.
Around me, people keep distance, even shy away. What do they see in me?
Minutes ago, the poor, tortured creature, naked and covered in red blood from the birches’ cuts, the face an image of suffered pain—now the angel of death in the black suit, with long, golden claws at fingers and toes, soaked with the blood of my enemies, bent by the burden of my guilt, bitter grief in my features.
I don’t need the claws any longer, so they seep back. I look up in search of familiar faces.
Some of them I won’t find anymore. I remember—Greg is holding the dying Mo in his arms while I’m killing his murderer in passing-by. The nameless young woman just cuts the third cop’s throat when a bullet blasts her skull away. Trevor wrestling with a rifle shooter on the press emporium, both are going down, hit by several pistol shots. Mick—the knives of three Bloods in his body, dealing out with his own weapon, but in the end, it doesn’t suffice.
I recognize fear in the people around me. Yes, they had come for me, they’ve risked their lives for me like I risked mine for them. But now? They don’t love me, they don’t pity me, they fear me!
That hurts, more than anything else. I want to call to them, hey, I’ve done that for you! But what would it change? They should know, but they don’t feel it.
And now? We’re watching each other, waiting for someone to do the next step.
All around, the injured cry. Surely there’s a lot to do, but no longer for me. They don’t need me anymore.
The crowd forms an alley, lets the Fool pass through. He smiles when he approaches me, spreading his arms. I allow him to hug me, to cautiously hold me tight.
“Does it hurt much?” he asks.
That’s a good question. How am I, actually?
Release pain signals.
Whoah!
My legs give in under me, a black veil clouds my gaze. The Fool’s strong arms catch me. “Oopla!” he calls out.
My nano suit could deflect the shots of numerous police pistols, and also some linear rifle bullets, but the latter have left decent bruises. Worse are two grazing plasma shots, on my arm and on my side, but the worst are the pains from the torture that I now feel unfiltered.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” the Fool whispers.
“Nobody should have to do such,” I whisper back. “But it did work.”
“It wouldn’t have been necessary.”
“It’s been necessary—how else should I have prevented another innocent being executed?”
“Not this way. No, not this way.” His voice sounds bitter.
“What’s bothering you?”
“Yesterday morning, I called the number you had dialed, and talked to your friend. I asked him whether he could help.”
“He’s not allowed to.”
“Not without an official request, he said. Fine, I said, as the last rightfully elected Mayor before the Syndicate’s seizure of power, I herewith officially request support from the American government.”
“Mayor?”
“I haven’t always only played guitar, you know? The Fool was a useful role—as Velvet was for you.”
“Yes.” If I had known that, I wouldn’t even have surrendered to Jasper’s greasy grasp. Upon the thought that I could have spared myself all the pain of the last five days, my knees become weak again. “But I don’t see any support.”
“No—actually he had said that they’d come as fast as possible.”
An old man, whose dark skin nicely contrasts with his pale suit, steps to our side.
“Hello, Father,” I welcome him.
“Velvet.”
“Your people helped much.”
“The Bones owe you seven lives. It was a question of honor to come to your aid.”
The same basically applies to Cap and his Marines, too. He had said, he’d come upon an official request? What’s the problem now?
Such questions don’t help me now. The Marines haven’t come.
“We’re not done yet,” I declare. “The Syndicate’s leaders aren’t neutralized yet, and you have no one to care for the gangs and cops in the boroughs.”
“You’re hurt. And most of all—nobody can get into the Syndicate’s fortress,” the Fool disagrees—the Mayor, I correct myself.
“I’ve been there.”
“As captive, yes.”
“No. Last weekend, when I procured the plasma rifles for the Times Square action. Why do you think the Syndicate’s arsenal failed today?”
“I wondered, but I thought you must be grateful even for little miracles. Are you trying to tell me that you sabotaged their plasma rifles?”
“Exactly.”
“In the Syndicate’s armory?”
“Exactly.”
Thereafter, he’s silent for a while. Finally he focuses on the Father. “I think we owe this woman more than we thought.”
“I’ve gathered a few men,” the Mayor says. “We can go.”
“Aren’t you needed here?” I ask. During the last two hours, he coordinated the treatment of injured, collection of arms, and the appointment of citizen sheriffs.
I’ve used the time to heal my worst injuries, first of all my soles and the burns. A full healing trance must wait.
“I have many friends who can take care. Now, we don’t want to let the gentlemen in the Freedom Tower wait any longer.”
“One moment.” I sense something—the sound of several approaching propeller planes, and at the same time the emissions of numerous micro fusion reactors. “I think the cavalry’s coming.”
“They are somewhat late.”
“Yes.”
“Hello, Cap.”
“Hello, Jo—or should I say, Velvet? Good that you’re alive.”
It sounds both honest and wrong.
“You didn’t expect to find me alive.”
“Nnno.”
“You’re late.”
“The mission order came late. We were ready, but the Ospreys were not.” He points at the tilt-wing aircraft the Marines have arrived with.
“What delayed the order?”
“We weren’t told. I’ve tried to ask and got a clear rebuke.”
“You shouldn’t arrive early enough to save me.”
“That’s an ugly suspicion, Jo. You know where we stand toward you. If it had been our say—but you’ve said yourself that you didn’t want that.”
“No. And, as you see, I’m still alive.” I know who’s behind this, and why. What I did isn’t politically correct and doesn’t match the clean image of a government about to replace the Cartel and rule America by law and justice. Velvet is a product of the old times, a rogue, so she must disappear. If the Syndicate’s to blame, even better—a clear cut, a clean end. Cynical, but understandable.
For the good of all, you must make sacrifices. Who would understand that better than me, after the last five days?
“In exchange, I leave the Syndicate leaders to you. Only watch out for the mines.”
“Mines?”
“I’ll explain what you’ll have to look for, and then you won’t have trouble.”
Epilogue
“What will they do with you, Mistress?” Achrotzyber asked. “The human laws are not logically understandable to me.”
“It takes long to understand the strange logic,” I admitted. “But I’ve broken their rules undeniably and determinedly. This must be examined by the court comprehensively and ultimately, so that I can fulfill my new role afterward without my past catching up with me one day.”
“You have saved them.”
“And they’re grateful. Anyway. I’ve committed many crimes, I’ve stolen from many people, I’ve hurt other people, I’ve used illegal weapons, and so on.”
“What do you have to expect from your strange laws?”
“Oh, surely a long sentence in jail. Perhaps they’ll release me on parole after a while. In any case, I’ll report
for my sentence and serve it.”
“You will be among other criminals. They will try to hurt you, the Captain said. You had better leave, he advises.”
“Oh, I’ll have my fun. They won’t be able to do much harm to me.” And if—it would just be pain.
“I will wait until you have finished serving your sentence. Then you will have to further educate me, Mistress.”
“Of course. You’re my companion.”
His scaly head jerked around. “Is that so, Mistress?”
“If you like.”
“Is that so, Mistress?”
“Yes. Achrotzyber, you are my companion.”
“Johanna, you are my Companion.”
Something was different when he formally spoke these words. I sensed it in his Signature, too. “And?”
“We are bound now. This is a Dragon contract. Due to it, by Dragon law, on Earth, you are now considered to be a Dragon. Now you are immune to their law.”
“No jail?” That would be nice, but I wouldn’t lead this juristic fight now—after all, mankind shouldn’t learn that there still was a Dragon.
“Dragon law is still in place. Companion.”
I surely only imagined that he voiced these words tenderly, didn’t I? Dragons acted by logic, not emotionally. With him, I didn’t have to hope for a romantic night with candlelight, nor for tenderness and passion. That was the way I wanted it—sex was something far too profane for this wonderful creature!
Why did I want him as Companion then? That must be the thief in me. I had grabbed the opportunity to secure the only Dragon on this planet for myself—irresistible!
“Johanna, my Companion.”
“Yes, Achrotzyber?”
“As you do not have Dragon parents, you cannot transform into a Dragon. Or do I lack information?”
Can I?
—No. There’s no data about a Dragon body’s build.—
“No, I can’t. I don’t know how a Dragon body should be built.”
“Then I will assume your shape to be able to fulfill my duties as Companion, as soon as it is possible for me.”
As if there’d been a hint of warmth in his voice—was that compelling Dragonish logic or a true longing for mutuality? If this possibility existed, I gladly looked forward to the day he’d hold me in his strong arms for the first time!
“Hello, Jo.”
“Hello, Cap. Did they send you to arrest me?”
“Jo, I—”
“I’ve almost expected it.”
“Jo, one word, and we’re coming with you.”
“You don’t want that.” I saw his conflict. “We already talked about that. You’re good Marines, and this country needs you. That’s exactly why Nicholas sent you—because he knows that I won’t resist you. Because we all know that, by resisting, I’d destroy everything I’ve just fought for so dearly. So do your duty.” He hesitated. “What else?”
“Jo, why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you go to jail? Why don’t you leave? Who could stop you?”
“For many years, I’ve only run away, Cap. Away from the police, the Cartel, some cultists. I’m tired of it. I’ve sworn to myself that I won’t run again. The alternative is fighting—or giving in. But here, I don’t want to fight.”
“But what could you gain?”
“Once I’ve served my sentence, my guilt is paid. Then I’m truly free.”
“They could have acquitted you, after all you’ve done for us.”
“There, you’re right, they could have done that. But they didn’t. How should they have reasoned the acquittal?”
“That you’ve acted on command?”
“So that the government then can be accused of working with the same methods as the Cartel? That would put everything in jeopardy I’ve fought for.”
“Mmm. The sentence is still very hard.”
Indeed. Harder than I’d have expected. For the homicides alone several life-sentences—for the torturers I had taken out last. Immediately next, they had listed several cases of robbery, severe mayhem and theft, which they had somehow attributed to Velvet, and moreover, vagrancy, rioting, civil disorder, tax evasion, and fornication.
Nobody had deemed it necessary to really prove the individual charges tightly—or at least hear me about it. The last thing this government needed now was a public lawsuit, during which I might accidentally misspeak and give Nicholas’ or Cap’s involvement away.
Of course, it was scandalous to simply lock me away without proper court action. But in the end, I only was a single rogue without lobby, the location of whom nobody knew anyway, and who hence wouldn’t be missed by anyone. Well, almost no one, but none of the few insiders would start a big press racket. The New Yorkers didn’t know about it, that was part of the deal.
Bad luck for me that I had agreed to this covert game without knowing the rules. Bad luck for me, now that I’d been thoroughly played for a sucker, that I still felt the obligation to keep my part of the deal. Not for the deal’s sake. For the sake of the people who had helped me, whom I had freed—who had trusted me.
“Give me a few more minutes to talk to my Dragon. I don’t want him to cause any trouble while I’m away. After all, it will take some more time.”
“Oh. No, that’s fine.”
“It will take a little longer, Mighty.”
“What has happened?”
“They’ve spoken their sentence. I will go to jail for a very long time—for a large part of the remainder of my natural life span.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing. I will live longer than an average human. It will be good this way, because the humans will have to learn getting along without help. They’d all-too eagerly follow someone promising them an easy solution—for which they don’t have to work themselves.”
“A short-sighted optimization strategy.”
“So-to-say.”
We watched each other. The few reports on Wyvern that could be found publicly described them as ugly creatures with unhealthily blotchy scales. Hardly anyone had ever seen a living Wyvern, counting out the Dragon empress.
To my eyes, my Companion was neither ugly nor unhealthy. Okay, olive-brown was no gaudy color, but his shape was majestic, his appearance both proud and humble, and his demeanor since our first encounter beyond reproach.
He was beautiful—outwardly as inwardly. And he was mine.
This thought would keep me straight during the dark hours that lay ahead of me.
“Companion?” he asked.
“Yes, my Companion?”
“How long will it take?”
“Mmm—maybe thirty years?”
“That should suffice.”
“For what?”
“To assume the shape of a human Companion.”
Oh yes!
To be continued…
About the Author
I am Valerie J. Long, born in 1963. I live and work in Germany as an IT project manager. I like role playing games, and I like putting my ideas on paper. I like all kinds of Science Fiction and Fantasy, I like music, and I like making you bite your nails off.
Table of Contents
Part One—Goodbye
Part Two—Loyalty
Part Three—Reconnaissance
Part Four—Exposed
Part Five—Recruitment
Part Six—Way Of Suffering
Lioness’ Legacy IV—Torment Page 21