Branded (13 page)

“But what exactly does that mean?”

“In theory, binding magic benefits both of you by supplying an overall higher energy level, which you share. You can take his magic; he can take yours.”

“This sharing things applies to energy only, right? Not thoughts or anything?”

“Well, yes. You won't be able to read each other's thoughts, of course. Strong emotions will always affect your magic however, and can be noticed by your partner. You have to understand that you're linked at the core.”

“And you said this was irreversible.”

“I'm afraid so. But there's an upside to it. At least, for you.”

“What's that?”

“You see, this was a non-consensual binding. You forced the dragon into it. You beat him and you're his master now.”

José furrowed his brow and shook his head. “I’m not anyone’s master.” Especially not Asher's.

“That symbol you have on your palm now,” the medic explained. “You touch him with that hand, you give him an order, any order, he won't be able to refuse.”

José touched the palm of his right hand with his left thumb and swallowed. That was how he’d made Asher calm down just a minute ago. The medic wasn’t kidding. “I don't want that sort of power. I only wanted to help.”

“I understand, but it's not something I can change or take back. Some people say this is why dragons aren’t around anymore. They tend to find these bonds quite discriminating against their kind.”

“Who’d think,” José muttered.

“But I am glad you say that. It makes me think you'll be sensible about this.”

That much was right. José would never use his power or even tell Asher about it. He could only imagine how much this would upset him.

“It’s been said,” the medic started again after a moment, “that the binding effect of the pact would be destroyed if he confessed actual love to you.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m sure you don’t intend to break the laws, but I thought I’d let you know everything I’ve heard.”

José ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, sure, thanks,” he said, storing that information away for later use. Probably never.

Chapter 14 - Wake Up and Smell the Coffee

Asher opened his eyes to an unfamiliar brown ceiling. Where was he, and how had he gotten here? His stomach hurt. A dull pounding that made him throw back the covers of the bed he was lying on and look down on himself. Bandages were wrapped all around his waist. Right, that sea monster had hurt him.

”Stupid son of a bitch,” he said under his breath. His throat was parched.

“Good morning.”

Asher turned to face Blind Guy, who sat on a bed across from him, leaning back against the wall. “Where are we?”

“A little town called Crigston. This is their version of a hospital, I guess.”

Asher looked around the room and found two more unoccupied beds. But nothing was white… or seemed terribly sterile. Actually, the room smelled of dust. Someone had set flowers in a cup of water on a small table beside his bed. Asher frowned at them. Flowers were something people in lame TV soaps got. He had no use for plants that weren't edible.

“You've been out for a while,” Blind Guy said. ”How are you feeling?”

“What do you care?” Asher snapped. Then he blinked. Where had that come from? For some reason, when he looked at Blind Guy, something in him wanted to be angry.

Blind Guy got off the bed and walked toward the door. “I'll get you something to drink,” he said and left.

Asher watched him go with a blank face and told himself that maybe he was just tired.

About an hour later, after he'd eaten and some sort of medic guy had done a check-up on him, Asher lay in his bed alone. Staring up at the ceiling, he tried to figure out what people weren't telling him. He couldn't badger Blind Guy; his companion had gone out a couple of minutes ago, claiming to want to go for a walk or something. Couldn’t have anything to do with the way he’d told Blind Guy to get lost when asked if he needed anything.

He had to get this under control. Later.

Asher closed his eyes. For now, maybe he'd just go back to sleep.

It wasn't long until someone disturbed his peace.

“Are you awake, mister? The blind mister said you were.” Asher opened his eyes to a little girl and a little boy standing in the doorway. The girl looked at him out of curious eyes while the boy kept his gaze to the ground.

“We picked new flowers!” the girl continued when Asher didn't reply. She was clutching a colorful bundle of flowers in her hands and held it up for emphasis.

“What did you do that for?” Asher sat up in his bed as she exchanged the flowers in the cup and pushed the old ones onto the boy.

“Because this room looks so boring! Duh!” She had attitude. Asher raised an eyebrow at her. “You're supposed to say thank you now, mister.”

“Aren't we the ones thanking him for saving our lives?” the little boy asked.

“That's what the flowers are for!”

So that’s what that was about…

“He has to thank us for thanking him?”

“You're stupid,” the girl said, whacking the boy, who then rubbed his head and stayed silent.

“He's not,” Asher found himself saying. “This stuff is confusing.”

The little boy looked up at him out of big round eyes and smiled. “Yeah!” He seemed to dig up a bit of courage now that Asher was taking his side. “You're the blind mister's dragon, right? I think that's totally cool! When I grow up I want a dragon, too!”

“No, I'm not. What are you talking about?” The boy made it sound like he was Blind Guy's pet dragon or something.

“But you got that symbol on your back!”

“What?” Asher turned his head to the left, then to the right, straining to see his back. There was something there, but he couldn't make it out clearly.

“What the hell?” Had someone put a freaking tattoo on him while he'd been sleeping? “Get me a mirror!”

He let his fingers run over his right shoulder blade while the children ran out. It felt like someone had carved fine lines into his skin. And no one had bothered to tell him.

The children raced back in and then the little boy handed Asher a small mirror. Asher used it to inspect his back.

“What the hell…” he repeated. Something was carved into his right shoulder blade alright. Some weird ass symbol about the size of his palm. Kind of like the tribal-style tattoos that had been all the rage a while back. Looking at it, Asher felt his blood pumping through his veins. He did not spent hours on skin care to have someone carve lines into him while he slept.

“It looks really cool, mister!” the little boy said and Asher turned to glare at him.

“I didn't want no fucking tattoo.” He threw the mirror to the ground, where it shattered.

The children ran out of the room, but Asher couldn't care less. While he’d been out, someone had put a fucking tattoo on him! Someone had touched him. And ruined his skin in the process. What the fuck kind of creep did that? Asher shuddered, and searched his pockets for his lighters.

That was when Blind Guy entered the room, a grim expression on his face, like he dreaded coming into the room. He knew what was up. Asher narrowed his eyes at him.

“Calm down and—”

Asher grabbed a pillow and hurled it at Blind Guy. “Shut up!” he said as the pillow hit its target with a force that made Blind Guy rub his head. Asher didn't care what Blind Guy had to say. This was his fault. Had to be.

“How the hell did I get a fucking tattoo?” Asher looked around the room to see if there was anything else he could throw.

“It's only—”

“Why the fuck didn't you tell me?”

“I was—”

“I bet this world doesn't even have the laser technology to get it off!”

“Listen, there—”

“What sort of sick son of a bitch puts tattoos on people while—” Asher shut up when Blind Guy threw the pillow back at him, hitting his face. Not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to surprise him.

“Would you
listen
for a second?”

Asher only glared. “Why?” he said then. “You're gonna say something that'll heal my skin?” His voice dropped. There was nothing anyone could say, was there? Even if he bashed Blind Guy’s head in, that wouldn’t return his perfect skin to him, would it?

“No,” Blind Guy said. “But I'm gonna say that tattoo is the only reason you're up and bitching now.”

“What, they heal people by slicing into their skin here?” Asher scoffed.

“Believe what you will, but that's what happened, and you're gonna have to live with it.” Blind Guy crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Look at me, I got two of them, but you don't hear me bitching.”

“What do I care how many tattoos you… Wait.” Asher blinked and paused to think. Blind Guy pressed his lips together. “Why do you have any?”

All this made less and less sense. Blind Guy sighed and sat down on the bed across from him. Asher dug his fingers into the pillow on his lap so he could throw it if needed.

“We're in a sort of… pact now. And these symbols were needed to form that pact. So we could share our magic. You needed that to heal up.”

“That's all?”

“That's all.” Blind Guy stood up and walked toward the door. He stopped halfway through. “Oh, also, we’re leaving. I figure it’s not very smart to stay here for too long. I was just waiting for you to wake up.”

Asher blinked at him. Blind Guy was probably right about being an easy target here, but he didn’t feel like spending all day on his feet. Through the window he could see the sun shining; it had to be hot out. “I was just about to go back to sleep when the brats came in,” he said.

“One of these
brats
had their family here waiting for them. And they’re so thankful you saved their offspring they offered to give us a ride out of here.”

“A ride?”

“They have a cart, and I don’t know how comfortable that is, but you wouldn’t have to walk, at least.”

“Yeah, fine, whatever,” Asher said, looking away from Blind Guy. He knew he should feel grateful, but he really couldn’t stand seeing him right now.

Chapter 15 - On the Road Again

They set out the morning of the following day. José would have liked to leave earlier, but the people who had been kind enough to offer a ride didn’t want to leave so close to sundown.

Still, José couldn’t help but worry. How many people had seen Asher in the sky, and how many of those would come after them? It was bad enough that they had pissed off the authorities in Doblis, and the lavalight had told him that the blood of a slain dragon was highly valuable. One reason so few of them existed anymore.

And as irritating as Asher could be, after all that had happened, José wasn’t going to let anyone lay a hand on him. Since he didn’t know this country, or the people they were traveling with, really, other than that they were elves, he always walked with one hand on the wooden cart and slept maybe two hours a night. The rest of the time he spent thinking of Maya and Jonas, and how he’d lost them. He thought of how close he’d come to losing Asher, too. And lying on the rocky ground beside the campfire, he only had to strain his ears a little to know that death was still around them.

Asher didn’t seem bothered, so José knew everything he sensed had to be far away, but all the time he smelt smoke and he felt fires.

“It’s only the rebels,” the lavalight said. “We’re close to their stronghold.”

If she was trying to be reassuring, she was doing a poor job of it.

“How long until your friend’s place?” José asked.

“Not long. Stick with these people for another day or two.”

‘These people’ were one of the kids Asher had saved and his aunt and uncle. They were going back to their home town — if it still existed.

Asher was mumbling something in his sleep. Some nonsense about pretty nails. He was healing up nicely, but sleeping still took up most of his time. It was for the best, too. As soon as he was awake, Asher found something to fight about. Anything José did seemed to set him off. Just the day before, they’d gotten into an argument about their favorite alcoholic beverages. It had started with Asher liking whiskey, and José liking rum. And it had ended with Asher calling him a tasteless bastard and José calling Asher an irritable idiot.

It hadn’t stopped José from settling down beside him for the night.

José perked his ears as Asher rolled over and stood up.

“Going somewhere?” José asked.

Asher paused. “Getting a drink if that’s okay with you.”

“It’s perfectly okay.” They’d refilled some water flasks at a stream a while ago. José tried not to be put off by Asher’s tone, but a change of topic might be good. “Dream anything nice?” he asked as Asher searched through their provisions.

“Not really.”

José listened to him drink as an animal cried in the distance. It was far enough away not to be worrisome. “Do you remember at all what you dreamed after you got injured?”