Arcadian Savoy III gazed at the endless expanse of open space from the observation deck on Draco Station. The view of deep space inspired and enthralled many. Some it drove mad. For Arcadian, the sight filled him with claustrophobic anxiety and lonely despair.
He flexed his hands into fists at his side and slowed his breath before he lost control and shifted. A silent scream rose from his heart and echoed into his mind.
I want out of here!
The urge to flee, to shape shift, break open his great dragon wings and fly away rippled down his back, daring him to act, driving him to find a way off Draco Station.
Somehow, he vowed, I will find a way.
He relaxed his clenched hands and took a deep breath. He’d experienced one miracle in his life, a scientific miracle from the laboratories of Pantheon allowing him to shift into a dragon with gold and blue scales and a ten-foot wingspan. That miracle gave him lungs capable of breathing the toxic atmosphere of Draco Prime. That miracle put a ten billion-dollar price tag on his life.
One I have to pay back.
But the profound nature of his new identity, his new awareness, eclipsed the ten billion-dollar value. That miracle did more than expand his physical realm, it expanded his understanding of himself and created a new role for his abilities as a dragon shifter. From the moment he first opened his wings, a primal need to find the place he belonged was born, along with needing a purpose beyond mining vulkillium.
He needed his freedom from Pantheon to explore this new identity. But he didn’t think Pantheon gave a damn about his newly discovered awareness and need for purpose. He laughed with derision. “Pantheon, a heartless corporation with the motto Where Gods Gather ~ Redefining Humanity’s Boundaries Through Science, has only one care in the world.”
The bottom line.
“Ha! What do they care about me?” The irony burned his heart with gall, but he refused to accept defeat. He just needed another miracle. And where there was one, another would come. Until then, his life belonged to Pantheon and to Draco Station.
When he agreed to the DNA altering cocktail, he’d asked Dr. Foster, “Am I going to be the best?” But he knew the answer. He’d be as good as Draco could currently produce, but not the best; the best had only come from Dr. Anthony Lazar, who’d left Draco over a year before.
“We’ll fix you up, Arcadian. You’ll never regret this,” Dr. Foster replied.
At first, the doctor was to be believed. During recovery from his dragon transformation, it became apparent his genetics melded well with the new editing. Immediately, his musculature expanded in both human and dragon form.
When he opened his wings, they snapped like a flag in the wind. His chest expanded, and his legs thickened with muscle and bone. He glanced over his shoulder at the lab techs who monitored this phase of the process from the observation window. Innately he understood just how much stronger, how much smarter, and how much faster he was than all of them.
You don't know what you’ve created.
The thought was the genesis for his new awareness. Initially, pride in his genetic improvements was the octane for his life. Being one of the few who could shift to dragon to mine vulkillium made his heart scream with superiority … until the trips to the surface became drudgery.
Eventually, he understood that Foster, as with any mouthpiece for a corporation, had lied, and regret came for Arcadian in great waves.
While his ability to shift into dragon remained a thrill, the rules that came with the package were strict. Wings were added because they came with expanded lung capacity, thereby enabling the dragon more time on the surface in the toxic atmosphere. Wings were not given so he could fly.
You can’t give me wings and tell me not to fly!
But that’s exactly what they did. Flying was taboo because it expanded reptilian desires, allowing the dragon to override the human, increasing dragon behavior—particularly dragon driven blood lust.
Blood lust, a term attached to Nate Givens, the one-time poster boy for Draco Station.
Givens had succumbed to the allure of flying and stirred his dragon brain to deadly repercussions. Free flying ultimately pushed the primal dragon drive to consume Nate’s human neurological system. He ended up killing two people to satisfy his blood lust. But in the end, his humanity reigned supreme and he’d killed himself out of human remorse.
While dead is better than Draco, I want to live!
Being a Draco dragon tied Arcadian to Draco Station legally, but that didn’t mean the station was where his heart yearned to be.
I’ll have another miracle. One will come.
He didn’t know how, but such was the way of miracles. All he had to do was let it happen. In the meantime …
Draco Station’s allure failed him. The sleek lines and the seductive colors and décor left him wanting. His luxurious apartment and his extravagant pay as a surface dragon seemed a pittance against the cost to him. The more he explored what Draco had to offer, the more he understood he’d been cheated.
Lied to and cheated. This isn’t where I belong.
Trapped on Draco with his disillusionment and discontent, he sought satisfaction with virtual reality games, simulation rooms, showgirls, and gambling tables. After a whirlwind of destructive behavior, he found himself returning repeatedly to the observation deck.
Somewhere out there is my place to be … where I belong.
This nagging and persistent lack of fulfillment dogged him even in his sleep as he dreamed of flying free with a purpose beyond mining vulkillium for the uber-rich.
A purpose I’m meant for—but what is that?
In his waking hours, he sought a vision of what his purpose might be, where his place might be, where he belonged. While he conjured images and scenarios, the core essence of his purpose evaded him. He only knew he wouldn’t find it on Draco.
Figuring out an escape became consumptive. First, as a dragon, he wasn’t allowed to leave. Second, the shuttle provided the only way off station for those scheduled to leave. Due to the tightly managed Fly Out list, his chances of getting onboard were slim to impossible. This one aspect defeated him, until …
One day he went down to the embarking platform. A drinking buddy from The End of the Line bar, Tom McNally, waited to board the shuttle. “Hey Arcadian, keep my spot warm at the bar. I’ll be back next year. Gotta have some Earth time, you know.”
Arcadian’s gut clenched with wanting, with longing, with a rabid, foaming at the mouth need to escape Draco Station. This longing marched into madness, to where he’d willingly tear down the walls of Draco Station if that would get him off Draco and on Earth.
His gut twisted and a sweat of desire slicked his palms. Shocked at the depth of his emotion, he gulped and wiped his hands on his pants. Just then, Tom thrust out his hand for a farewell shake. Arcadian fixed a smile on his face and extended his in return.
They shook, with Tom smiling and Arcadian grinding his teeth. All he could think was how much he wanted to be this man, how much he wanted to walk onto the shuttle and fly through space toward Earth, to never see Draco Station again. He wanted this as much as he wanted life.
As they shook, his hand tingled. He cocked his head, distracted by the sensation as he answered. “Sure. I’ll look for you then, Tom.”
Afterward, when the travel deck doors closed, he returned to his apartment with the desire to be Tom McNally still ripe in his heart. Once he got inside, a warmth rushed over him, much like when he transitioned into dragon. He watched his hand as it morphed, not into his familiar dragon flesh, but into human flesh … only not his human flesh.
Not possible.
In spite of his thought, morphing chemicals flowed through him and his full body shifted like a strike of lightning. But instead of his wings popping open, instead of the usual flash of scale forming across his torso and limbs, instead of what he expected, something else happened.
Not dragon, but human. Who, then?
He stepped slowly to
the bathroom, heart pounding, armpits sweating, and turned on the light. The image reflected in his bathroom mirror stunned him.
Tom McNally, how are you here?
He glanced at his hand, remembering the tingling as they pressed flesh, and the depth of desire coming from his heart at that moment. The normal process to shift to dragon began with emotion, the desire to shift. Once the mind told the body it wanted to shift, the emotion triggered the morphing chemicals to flow.
I picked up his DNA—
He’d wanted to be Tom when they shook hands, and his body shifted into the DNA from Tom based on a new primal imperative. This thought slipped into his mind like smoke, firing the destruction of what he thought he could do. Followed by new possibilities.
How do I develop this ability? How far will it go?
His heart ramped up and swelled in his chest. Hot tears rushed to his eyes.
Is this my second miracle?
He grinned and touched his chest. “It was here inside me all along.”
The next day, he lingered in the cafeteria until Shelby came in. She had dark hair and sultry eyes, and he desired her. Unfortunately, she already had two dragon lovers. But he always liked to get a smile from her. “Hey, Shelby. How you doing today?”
She stopped and gave him a slanted glance, allowing him enough time to move beside her and brush her bare arm as he reached for the napkins.
“Hi, Arcadian, I’m good.”
Her gaze raked over him, leaving the heat of desire in its wake. But his arm tingled, like when he morphed into Tom McNally. He licked his lips as the desire to touch more of her blossomed in his mind. “You’re looking sharp.”
She smiled, enticing. “You know if I could take three dragon lovers, I’d be on you like no tomorrow.”
“Our mutual loss, then.” He inhaled deeply and caught her scent; it made his mouth water. “Maybe one day?”
He left to return to his apartment after she moved on. On the way there, he focused on how much he desired her physically, how much he wanted to be her. He rushed to the bathroom through his dark apartment, feeling the burn of morphing chemicals fueling transition through his body. Heart racing with a nauseous combination of anticipation and fear, he turned on the light. He blinked with amazement.
Damn, I’m her.
The perfection astounded him. He leaned closer to the mirror and checked out the subtle color striations in her eyes. He palmed her breasts with appreciation and whistled softly.
Hell, not bad. Not bad at all.
Her eyes stared back at him in the mirror as his thoughts ran wild.
If I can be this good as Shelby, I can be anybody.
He smiled at her face, enjoying her beauty one last moment before beginning the process of shifting back into himself. He closed his eyes and drew up his face in his mind.
I’m Arcadian. I want to be Arcadian.
When the chemicals began coursing in his bloodstream and the burning began, he opened his eyes. Like a time-lapse video, her flesh morphed into his own visage. Within seconds, his familiar face stared back from the mirror.
The impossibility of this swamped him, and yet he’d just watched it happen. “I can be who I want, as long as I have a scrap of their DNA and the desire to become them.”
Still, he wondered … how? Genetic modification was inherently a wild card. But, as far as he knew, never had a dragon shifter been able to transform into anything but a dragon.
Until now.
His heart stuttered and he coughed. Excitement rippled through him, bringing palpitations interspersed with bursts of incredulous laughter. He stood, wanting to fly with exhilaration, and clutched his fists to his chest.
I’ve got it! I’ve got a way off Draco!
“Planning. This will require precise timing,” he muttered as an escape idea began to form. “Genetic modification has its pros and cons. What they didn’t plan on was a new genetic ability developing. One that will get me off station and onto Earth.” He paused in his excitement. All thoughts and movements froze as he wondered …
Is this an unforeseen accident of genetic manipulation? Or is it something engineered? Or is it an evolutionary jump?
“Scratch deliberate engineering; such an ability would never have been added on purpose. Or, did evolution respond to my desire to leave by developing this ability?” The idea spun in his mind. Astonished, he warmed to his new status.
I have a secret ability. This makes me even more special.
He wanted to shout but put his finger to his lips. He recalled the moment after taking the genetic cocktail when he recognized his superiority over the human technicians. Today’s discovery was that realization all over again, only on steroids. The urge to shift with excitement rushed through him, bringing the initial sensations of shifting. He said, “Stop!” The process shut down, the tingling eased, his heart rate slowed.
What remained were visions soaring in his mind of freedom from Pantheon. A mix of joy and invincibility raced down his spine, and he shouted, “Yes!” as he leaped into the air with a conquering fist.
I’m free!
He came down on both feet and dropped into a crouch as he grinned and whispered, “My chains are broken.”
The next morning, he went to his shift on the surface of Prime, boarding the mining shuttle with a secret smile tucked into his heart.
The shuttle doctor came by and checked Arcadian’s watch that recorded his surface time. “You doing all right, Arcadian? I see you’re maintaining no overtime. That’s good. Let’s keep it that way, right?”
A grenade of silence dropped. The unspoken yet explosive words ‘Or be dead like Nate’ hung in the air.
“No problem,” Arcadian said.
I’m leaving Draco, but not in a body bag.
After his shift, he returned home and changed into a shirt with short sleeves. He left on an excursion for more DNA and more data on his ability to change who he was.
In the hallway, he waited at his door as if just coming out until one of the farm workers passed behind him. He followed him into the elevator and reached for the buttons, but said, “Oh, hell I forgot--” He jumped to catch the elevator doors, deliberately brushing his bare arm against the man’s hand. “Sorry,” he said, and bolted out the doors.
His arm began to burn and tingle where he’d touched the guy in the elevator. But he didn’t want to morph into everyone he touched—he had to find a way to control this ability. With a different objective this time, he turned his mind off the farm worker. He kept focused on himself and the desire to remain in his own DNA.
The burning and tingling ceased.
He returned to his apartment and entered, resting his back against the door. “Arcadian Savoy, Arcadian Savoy,” he chanted.
His heart eased down. He closed his eyes and focused on his individuality and commanded his body through his emotions. He exhaled slowly, keeping the image of himself in the front of his thoughts. Within moments, chemical delivery shut down, and his body relaxed.
I did it. Now, what else I can do?
The thought sent a shiver down his spine, followed by an eruption of ideas racing through his mind. “Slow down, bad boy. One thing at a time.” He exhaled with caution. “Now I know how that works, on to the next part of the plan.”
After work the next day, he stopped by the library. “Hi, Lois, can I look at news about former Draco employees?”
Lois was contract labor—a true librarian. She didn’t have much in the way of looks, but she handled the library as though the materials were her own.
She leveled a steady inspection at him, giving Arcadian a hot spot of vulnerability in his stomach, as though she could see into his heart and pry out his secret. To deflect her inspection, he leaned in and softened his voice. “I’m writing a book about Draco based on its past employees. Fiction, of course, and highly glamorized.” He winked and gave her a smile filled with charm.
Her steely gaze weakened and she glanced side-to-side before respon
ding. “Don’t tell, but so am I. What’s your title?”
The library was digital only, with no access besides Lois and her computer. He needed Lois, needed all the data available through her fingertips. He gathered his sweetest smile and winked again. “Well, since it’s after they leave station, I thought … ‘Escape from Draco’. Do you like it?”
She laughed with an exaggerated air of conspiracy. “Oh, that’s perfect. Let me get you my best files. Maybe we could compare manuscripts sometime?”
As she tapped on her keyboard, he caught his breath.
Her best files.
“I’m just in my preliminary research,” he said. “It’ll be a while before I have anything to share. Hey, out of curiosity, what about characters? Who do you think out of Draco’s alumni would make an interesting character?”
She grinned, pleased to share. “Oh, that would have to be Dr. Lazar. He’s become quite the eminent and notorious individual since leaving Draco.” She leaned in and crooked her finger to draw him closer. “You know, he left under strained circumstances. Dragged out of here in handcuffs by Dr. Sinclair, or rather Sheriff Sinclair. That was a dark day for Pantheon and Draco Station.”
He tucked his head and lowered his voice, even though they were the only ones in the library. “I know, right? Pantheon hates it when they get poop on their corporate face.”
She rolled her eyes and put a finger to her lips.
“Sure,” he said and waved his hand in negation. “We won’t mention--” He gazed off and allowed silence to settle briefly, then asked, “So, you have all the latest on Dr. Lazar? Sounds like he has the potential for what I want.”
A secretive nod from her broadened his smile. “I included all the latest on him, up-to-date from the last shuttle.”
Everything updated about Lazar.
He took the thumb drive she offered. “Thanks, Lois. You’re a doll.” All the way back to his apartment, elation soared in his heart. He rushed to get through his door.
Lazar, the one man who can keep me from returning to Draco.
He plugged in the thumb drive. Not wanting to leave a digital trail of his plans, he pulled out a pen and pad to take notes.
Hexes and Handcuffs: A Limited Edition Collection of Supernatural Prison Stories Page 36