by Ann Gimpel
“Don’t forget the dragons who ended up brood mares for the serpents’ genetic experiments,” Konstantin said.
“We missed that part”—Yle clamped his jaws in a tight line—“until you uncovered it.”
Kon gathered magic. It eddied about them. “I will ferry all of us to the surface. It will be less noticeable than if each of us travels separately.” He turned and locked gazes with the man sporting braids. “Summon everyone you can find. When we get back, we’ll plan our first engagement and put it into action.”
The man nodded acknowledgment. “I shall see everyone is here.”
Katya had no doubt he’d do whatever was necessary. He had a no-nonsense way about him that inspired cooperation, and she assumed he was the dinosaurs’ leader. The scent of her brother’s magic thickened around her. Sunbaked clay and burning wood and aromatic herbs.
She wrapped wards about herself. No point in not being as ready as she could be. Just because they were emerging in a protected spot didn’t mean a serpent sentry wouldn’t notice a disturbance in the warp and weft of his—or her—magic. As she thought about it, she’d seen very few females.
What had happened to them? Were the inequities in their numbers creating problems?
The only familiar things once the spell settled were the boulders. A thick layer of ice covered the headlands. When she peeked over a hillock, the ocean was frozen as far out as she could see. Surely, humans had sounded a major alarm. This was summer in Antarctica, which mean dozens of cruise ships plied these waters daily. Were any of them stuck in ice, or had word gone out to warn ships not to come here at all?
Probably a little of both. Which meant the first batch of unlucky ships could be mired in ice. Kon tapped both her and Yle on the shoulder and pointed skyward. Shifting ate up a lot of magic. They probably should have shifted below and emerged as dragons—and a dinosaur.
Too late now. She hid behind warding as much as she could and spread her wings as soon as they’d support her weight. Kon’s black dragon soared above her with the pterodactyl higher still. The dinosaur was large, but not bulky like dragons. Wings spread, he rode the air currents effortlessly.
Her bondmate wanted to bugle and paint the skies with fire. She muffled it amid a bevy of complaints that it was a sad day when dragons had to creep about like old women. Kon flew north. She followed, intuiting he wanted some sense of just how much of the ocean had frozen solid.
They flew toward the small stretch of open water humans had named the Drake Passage. She couldn’t remember how it got its name, but it was known for rotten weather and rough crossings.
And shipwrecks. Those had come as a plus since most of her hoard had been gleaned courtesy of foundering ships.
So far, she hadn’t seen even a single serpent, but she felt their foul magic. They had to be swimming beneath the ice. How the hell were they breathing? Last she checked, they had lungs just like she did. The pterodactyl flew in front of her and dipped his wings to one side, clearly wanting her to see something.
She glanced down.
The struggle she’d had with her dragon before paled in comparison to her beast’s bid for freedom now. A ship was encased in ice. A good-sized one that could carry hundreds of humans. Helicopters hovered above it. One landed, took several passengers, and departed. As soon as it left, another took its place.
They were moving people off the stranded ship.
The humans were unaware of serpents closing on their stricken vessel. She felt their nasty emanations beneath the ice. Konstantin circled back to where she and Yle treaded air.
Kon had forbidden communication, but she didn’t care. “We have to do something.” She shielded her telepathy. Hopefully, the serpents were so intent on the feast they figured was theirs for the taking, they weren’t paying attention to anything else. Surely, not something a couple hundred meters in the air.
“We could break up the ice,” her twin agreed.
Yle flew in front of them and twisted midair so he faced them. “No. Just because you can break up the ice with fire, is no reason you should. Humans do not need to know about us. It’s bad enough a few of them may have guessed about the serpents at this point.”
“Meh. They’ve probably chalked them up to some iteration of the Loch Ness Monster,” Kon mumbled, and then added. “You’re right. I’ve come to my senses. We’ll only waste magic we can ill afford to lose.”
Katya battled anguish—and her dragon. “We’re warriors!” her bondmate squealed into her mind. “We oppose evil in all its forms. We do not walk away because it’s inconvenient.”
“I have an idea,” Kon said. “Earth is fighting back. The ice is her doing. What if she could extend the freeze all the way to the ocean floor in this spot? It would keep serpents from reaching the ship. They’d have to turn around.”
“I like it,” Yle replied. “Can you reach the land?”
“I don’t know. So far, my attempts have not gone well, but I’m going to try again.”
“Should we remain?” Katya asked.
“No. I’m retreating to the headland. No reason to be in the sky. You two should return beneath ground.”
They covered the distance to where they’d emerged and shifted. Every serpent in the region was intent on the crippled ship. No one would notice their magic. She hoped.
Kon would be expending a lot of obvious power in his bid to reach the land. “Are you certain you don’t wish at least one of us to remain?” she asked.
“Quite sure. It’s bad enough my magic feels similar to those who are persecuting her. For there to be two of us might ensure failure.”
Katya gave him a quick hug. “We’re close if you need us.”
Yle looked from one to the other of them, his silvery gaze serious. “Thank you for heeding my warning. My pterodactyl is much easier to manage than a dragon. He enjoys a good scrap, but he also recognizes losing causes.”
Katya smothered grim laughter. “Dragons view themselves as invincible.”
“So I’m coming to discover.”
“Out of here, both of you.” Kon sounded exasperated. “I’ll return as soon as I can.”
Katya gathered magic and set a course for her underground lair. At least her beast had retreated, but she still thought leaving was a mistake. A point she was making by sending fire, smoke, and ash splatting from Katya’s mouth.
“I like your dragon,” Yle said, “but she could accept sound advice more gracefully.”
“Did you hear that?” Katya asked her bondmate. Instead of words, more fire spewed from her.
Katya brought them out in the midst of a large group that had formed near the shores of the lake. “If you believe dragons ever accept advice that runs counter to their wishes,” she told the dinosaur shifter, “then you know nothing about us. Nothing at all.”
Erin
I hate to admit this, but I was relieved when Konstantin left the battle-training workspace. Not that he departed on his own. His twin, Katya, chivvied him out of here. She’s a good woman, and she understands her brother. Probably better than I do.
It’s not that I don’t enjoy Kon’s company. I do. But he reminds me of the old, crusty surgeons I trained under. He expects me to know everything—and be competent—right off the bat. I couldn’t do it when I was wielding a scalpel. And I can’t do it here, either.
Up until very recently, I’d relegated magic to the realm of the impossible. Children’s fables, except my childhood was so far from idyllic no one ever read me a single fairytale. No wonder I never wasted energy believing in the impossible. I was too busy surviving. Things got a little better after I was six or seven and they dumped my poor excuse for a father in jail, but that’s a tale for another time.
Or not.
It really isn’t worth opening a door to examine the misery from my childhood. It won’t change a thing. I got past it.
“Erin!” Johan yelled.
I ducked reflexively, and a ball of blue magic missed me by an angstr
om. Several more were headed my way. I stepped out of the line of fire and shouted, “Can you shut that thing off for a moment?”
Whirring that had become part of the landscape quieted. I’d never known holographs made noise, but then I’d never come across one powered by magic, either.
“Are you all right?” Johan aimed a speculative glance at me out of his dark eyes.
“Yeah. I got caught up in thinking about stuff. I’m ready to try that last set of defensive moves again.”
“Take a moment,” he suggested. “Catch your breath.” His English was excellent, but spoken with a strong Dutch accent. Up until I’d become a dragon shifter, English was my only language. Magic had corrected that little impediment.
Johan was a kind man, and his attentiveness to detail had served him well when he’d worked as a metallurgical engineer. He walked closer. “You can do this, Erin. I understand you did not grow up playing war games like little boys, but—”
“You have no idea how I grew up,” I interrupted him. He was just being considerate, but something inside me splintered, jabbing me with sharp edges. Maybe because I’d been dangerously close to reliving my volatile childhood.
He held up a hand. “Sorry. I was trying to be supportive.”
Remorse twisted my face into a scowl. “Yeah. Best thing for me is to get back to practicing. Whether I played ‘war games’ as a kid or not, killing wouldn’t come naturally to me.”
“No, I do not suppose it would.” He took a deep breath and blew it out. “Whoever designed this workshop and the battle simulations was very skilled. The scenes are self-adjusting depending on your response to them. If something is too easy, it becomes harder.”
“If it’s so smart, why’d it chuck those last balls of juice my way?”
“Maybe it knew you had ceased to pay attention?” Johan shrugged. “We should switch to offensive maneuvers. My sense is that you already know how to defend yourself if attacked.”
I grimaced. “Comes through loud and clear, eh?”
“Indeed. You can be as prickly as a hedgehog.”
“Doctors, especially surgeons, don’t especially prioritize social skills,” I sputtered. Done waiting for Johan to reactivate the holograph, I borrowed a page from Star Trek and stomped closer to the far end of the room. “Alien battle, level two.”
Johan snorted laughter.
“What’s so blasted funny?”
“It responds to magic, not words. I discovered that by trial and error after Kon and Katya left.”
“Where was I when you were doing that?”
“Staring after Konstantin.”
Before I could protest I’d done no such thing, Johan materialized next to me and raised a hand. Power flared from it.
From what I could tell, it was mostly fire with a jot of air mixed in. The whirring started up again, and I raised both hands and marshaled the power I’d discovered deep within me. My dragon was gone for the moment, but I was certain she’d return.
I parried a dart of white lightning, followed by a whole bunch of black ones. Soon the sum total of my attention was on figuring out where to send jets of power to stymie the holographic attack. At some point, I truly did move from defending myself to being a worthy adversary.
Sweat ran down my body, but magic sang sweet, kindling my nerves with the joy of destroying my enemy. I have no idea how much time passed, but I was breathing as hard as if I’d run a race.
Johan waved a hand and cut the flow of magic. “It is enough for today. We made progress.”
I was still struggling to catch my breath, but I gasped out an agreement and sank into a crouch.
“You did well just now,” Johan said. “What made the difference?”
It was a good question, and I thought about it. As usual, his observations were spot on. Something had finally clicked between me and my nascent magic and the holographic program.
I got my feet back under me and straightened. “It was rather like surgery when I’m in the zone. Everything is clicking, and I’m fully immersed in the moment. When that happens, there’s no past and no future. Only now.”
He smiled, and it lightened his austere features. “You sound like an advertisement for Zen mindfulness.”
I grinned back because I couldn’t help it. Something about Johan’s moods were contagious. That was even true when he’d been lying in an ice cave with a broken femur joking with me.
“We’ll never see that world again,” I murmured. “The one where meditation ads are all over the web.”
“You do not know that,” he countered. “If we are successful, something will remain here on Earth.”
“Yes, but we won’t be part of it.”
“Not in the way we once were,” he agreed thoughtfully, “but you do not know how our futures will unfold.”
I nudged him. “I have a pretty good idea about yours. You’re mated to Katya, and you’ll ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after. As dragons.”
“And you shall be mated to Konstantin. Or will you?” He quirked one dark brow my way.
I did a quick spot check. My dragon wasn’t back yet, so there was no one to spy on me and report back to Kon’s beast. Breath whistled through my teeth. “I don’t know. It’s not that I don’t love him, I do, but he has some arrogant aspects that set my teeth on edge. Like earlier today when he decided I was incompetent or incapable or something and simply stepped in front of me and fought for me.”
Johan tilted his head to one side. “He is from an era when men protected women.”
“Doesn’t make it any easier to swallow—or accept.”
“You stood up for yourself.”
A rather rude snort blew past my lips. “And he moved six inches away. It wasn’t until Katya dragged him off to deal with some other task that he left. And he didn’t want to go. I saw it on his face.”
“What is the worst part of that for you?”
I regarded him through lids that sat at half-mast. “So now you’re a psychiatrist rather than an engineer?”
He raised both hands until they faced palms outward. “The hedgehog returns, spines and all. I am trying to be your friend. As the only other human in this bunch, I understand more than you think.”
Heat swooped from my chest to the top of my head. “Sorry. I can be a terrible bitch. Probably because of how I was raised, I’ve never let anyone get very close to me. If Kon had his way, he’d rule my life, and I value my freedom too much to let him do that.”
“Katya and I have had several ‘freedom’ discussions. Turns out I was not as free as I presumed. Neither were you. This is not about independence, so what is it?”
Point to Johan.
Freedom was an amorphous concept, and a smokescreen. I nodded, feeling tired. “What if we end up hating each other? We’re stuck. Forever. Doesn’t that worry you about Katya?”
“Sometimes.” The corners of his eyes pinched with concern. “I spent my life avoiding commitments. Oh, I had the best of excuses. One after another, but the upshot was I was still single and in my forties. And likely to remain so. I understood I would have to make some significant life alterations to accommodate a wife and children, and I was not ready. That was fine when I was twenty-five. Less fine ten years later, and edging into unacceptable when I passed forty, but I did not know what to do about it. Or I did, but I was not willing to make those changes.”
“Sounds familiar,” I ventured. “Not that I’m forty, but close enough.”
“How did you square it with yourself?” Johan’s dark gaze bored into me.
I shrugged. “I was busy. Doing critical work. Long hours on my feet. Even longer hours on call. A husband and children would never see me.”
“Did it not occur to you to work less?”
“Sure, but I discarded it.”
“Why?”
Here was the crux of the woman I’d become, and it hurt to admit it out loud. “I was afraid.”
“Of?” he prodded, not willing to let
me off the hook so easily.
“Lots of things. Making a mistake. Not being able to love someone enough. Being a terrible mother.” I winced but forced a few more words past my unwilling lips. “Sparing you details, I had a perfectly wretched upbringing. Lots of foster homes and zero decent parental role models.”
“I lack your excuses. I had wonderful parents and still doubted my ability to be a husband and father. Katya was worth laying my qualms aside.” He dropped a hand onto my shoulder. “Nothing changes unless we do, Erin.”
Boy, oh boy, was that ever true.
“Ready to look for everyone else?” I asked. Johan had given me a lot to think about, but I was done with introspection for the moment.
“I am. Shall we stop by the kitchen, first?”
“Sure.” I visualized the great room one floor up, felt a rush of magic, and ended up there. Someone had tidied up the library, but not resurrected the illusory wall hiding it.
Was it a “fuck you” from Konstantin for the chaos I’d left, or was he simply being himself? Perhaps Katya had done the straightening. Regardless, I’d have to thank them for clearing up my mess.
Johan loped around me and was on his way up the stairs leading to the kitchen. He was as guilty as me for the disarray in the library, yet he apparently hadn’t given it a second thought.
Because he’s a man…
I chopped that line of thought off fast. I was prickly and quick to take offense. Even if Kon had cleared up the library, why couldn’t I assume positive intent? What was wrong with me?
I didn’t care much for the answer. When I played the injured party, it gave me a false moral high ground.
I could do better. And I promised myself I would. I’d said I was done with introspection, but I’d kept right on brooding. It truly was time to put a lid on things.
“Didn’t find much,” Johan was saying as I rounded a corner into the kitchen.
He’d laid out kelp and dried meat, and I realized I was famished. Somewhere around the second mouthful, my dragon slammed into me bugling, “I’m back.”