Dragon Guardian (Drakins of Wyrmarach) (3 page)

The little dragon statue from the shelf over her kitchen sink
had fallen onto the drain board and lay broken in half. Damn, maybe later she
could glue the little guy back together. She slid her feet into sandals and
left the dragon where he lay.
No time
.

She grabbed her phone and keys off the kitchen counter,
pausing to scoop up a box of glass ware she was going use to build a window
display.

Wren raced toward the back door that led down an external
wooden staircase from her second floor apartment. Coffee could wait until she
could get the shop open. Checking the clock over the door, --
nine-freaking-hell-thirty--
she bolted.

She stepped onto what should have been the first stair tread
from the back door landing. A man’s shouted warning came too late. Her feet
found only air. The steps were gone. A scream ripped from her throat echoing in
the alley. She grabbed out with everything in her for something, anything that
could break her fall.

≽
∞
≼

The warning
in
Ethan mind reached a fevered pitch of discomfort, marking when what was
going to happen
collided in the cosmos
with what
was happening
. Looking up
to the top of the stairs, Ethan could see space where stair steps should be.
Hearing the door open he shouted a warning for whoever exited the apartment
above but it was too late. The quietness of the alley was broken by a bone
chilling shriek.

Ethan stumbled, mired in the swirling eddies of the vision invading
his consciousness. Relief swept through him as Caleb pushed to the lead and
jumped forward ready to catch the swirling tangle of red-haired woman before
she crashed into the ground.

Bad thing about gravity, hard landings always sucked. Bile
burned his throat at the image of her mangled broken body as he fought to
reject the impending horrific conclusion of such a fall. His brother leapt from
the ground, to grab the woman.

Wait, that couldn’t work. The physics of the whole scenario
was flawed. Caleb’s momentum drove their bodies forward toward collision with
the pavement. His attempt to save her had turned into a flying tackle. Caleb
fought to turn so that his body would take the impact of the landing.

Seven Hells, either sustaining injuries from a two-story fall
or crushed face first into concrete, tackled by a 230-pound wall of muscle. Bad
just got worse.

Ethan envisioned himself grabbing them with his kinetic
energy and yanking the invisible power stream back wrestling to keep them on
their feet. Every decision made the result worse.

He had a split second to decide on the right course of
action. Events continued to flash through his mind. His vision seemed to be
reality as the consequences played out in his head. Their combined force came
back at him.

Okay, over
compensation, not so much better.

Caleb and the woman would hit him like a cosmic bowling ball
and they’d all eat pavement just the same. Precog rolled like a movie, how the
pavement would shred the skin off his back so much Swiss cheese through a
grater, guaranteeing him a primo case of road rash. He could almost hear the
ripe melon sound of his skull when it smacked the pavement.

Craapp this was
going to hurt big time
.

Ethan froze, braced for
the crash. His brother
shouted.

“Ethan!”

Adrenaline surge on overdrive, the breath whooshed out of him
and Ethan looked around, reflexively patting his body. As if doing so would
ascertain the reality of his standing here undamaged. He wasn’t on the ground
battered and bleeding. Caleb stood in front of him, not part of a human heap of
disaster. The woman! There was no woman. He shook his head. The vision wasn’t
real, yet. They still had time to intervene.

“Caleb! We’ve got to…”

His brother pointed up, directing Ethan’s attention to the stairs
over their heads.

“I could use a little help up here!” A woman hung from the
gap between the stairs. Her arms clasped hugging the next tread like a life
raft. Against all odds, the woman managed to circumvent the precognition he’d
so clearly seen. She fought to hang onto the board. “I can’t hold on much
longer.”

≽
∞
≼

Wren struggled
to maintain her grip on the stair while her body dangled in open space. Her
chest burned and her chin throbbed, no doubt scraped from her impromptu exit
through the stairs. She swung her legs trying to catch something with her feet
to brace against and climb back through the gap-- nothing but empty space. The
movement threatened her tenuous grip on the board.

A deep male voice shouted up at her.
“
Let go, we’ll catch you.”

Her arms ached, locked around the wood. She wanted to let go.
Wren couldn’t convince her body to cooperate. “I can’t.”

Her hold weakened, her arms shook and she slipped causing a
shrill squeal. She clambered to grip the board tighter. Where were her shoes?

“It’s okay, just drop. We’ll catch you.”

She didn’t have much choice; her arms were giving out and
shook in protest of her death grip on the plank. She peeked down over her
shoulder and saw two hulking men staring up at her, smiling reassuringly.

“I’m Ethan Monroe, this is my brother Caleb. You’re safe
now.”

She gripped the stair tighter in a valiant attempt to
maintain her hold. She closed her eyes.
What
the hell do I do now?

“Stretch down as far as you can, we’ll catch you.”

His tone inspired trust. She glanced down again. His
companion nodded, “We won’t let you fall,
it’s
okay.”
She stared into faces too similar to be coincidence.
Whoa, twins?

Her best plan was to relax her hold and allow herself to
dangle closer to their reach. Pull-ups were never her strong suit in P.E.
Before she gained the extension of her stretch, her fingers slipped their hold
and she yelped again as she dropped, sliding down a chute between the two hard
male bodies below.

They staggered, the force of gravity increasing her weight.

≽
∞
≼

The woman’s shriek
fizzled to a squeak and a gasp as Caleb looked into her too green eyes, losing
himself
in the depths of color, highlight and shadow.

“The stairs… gone.” she rasped. Exhaling a shaky breath, she
added. “You...caught me.” Her strained voice broke as she began trembling in
his arms.

Her long tapered fingers rested on his sternum. She fell back
against Ethan, wilted, from feeling the dizzying effects of her rescue. Her
soft hair brushed Ethan’s neck as her head leaned back on his shoulder.

“You have me.” Her three words spoke straight inside Caleb
causing a funny twist deep in his chest.

“Yes, we have you.” Ethan murmured from behind her, bending
his head toward the delicate shell of her ear, his eyes closing in
concentration as he inhaled her musky jasmine scent. Caleb blinked, savoring
the aroma along with Ethan.

Even strained, the soft lyrical tones of her voice caressed
Caleb.

Wren coughed. She seemed to be coming out of the daze.
“Very good.
Thank you, for… catching me.”
 
She stuttered. The adrenaline rush flushed
causing her body to shudder with shaking spasms.

She cleared her throat, unsuccessful at reducing the
huskiness of her voice, “Where are my shoes?”

Ethan nudged him.
She’s
bleeding
. Red splattered from her chin dropping on Caleb’s shirt and arm,
where the blood pooled and then seemed to be absorbed by his skin. His mind
shouted,
What the Fuck--
absorbed by my skin!

He didn’t have a clue what that biological eccentricity meant.
When he drew back, his twin’s eyes caught and held his, revealing a wildness
that seemed barely controlled as he spoke in Caleb’s mind
.

Don’t let her notice.
She’ll ask questions we aren’t prepared to tell a human. There’s probably a
logical reason that has something to do with our heritage.

Caleb did a quick survey of her visible injuries. Split chin,
scraped from stomach to chest, light winked off the emerald stone of her navel
piercing. Whoa, don’t go there. He looked up at the stairs. The gap where
several steps were missing prevented them from getting her back to her
apartment.

Wren’s shifted her weight squirming in their hold. Her
movement jerked him back from his thoughts.

“Put me down.” Her strained voice broke on the last word with
a squeak. “I want my shoes.”

The sight of her blood gnawed at him. They released her and
stepped back. She reached out to steady herself against them. “I’m fine.”

He looked around trying to think. Garbage cans were tucked
under the lower section of the steps. The broken stairs extending up over their
heads would have to be fixed.

She’s bleeding in this
germ infested alley

Caleb took a deep breath and exhaling a shaky
what-the-hell,
cleared his mind trying
to think what to do next. He pulled his t-shirt over his head and shook his
hair back over his shoulders with a shrug.

Wren’s eyes widened and she blushed pink across her cheeks.

Without speaking, Caleb pressed the soft cloth against her
chin and pushed to stop the flow of blood, then directed her small hand to hold
the wad of shirt in place. She held the makeshift bandage against her chin,
muttering she marched over to one discarded shoe and slipped her foot into it.
Then, did the one-bare-foot hobble in the opposite direction to slip on the
second shoe.

“Oh for-crying-out-loud.”
She
dropped the shirt and ran to a card board box with its contents dumped at the
foot of the stairs, glass shards scattered over the ground. “Unbelievable.” She
looked up at the stairs before she started picking through the box in an
attempt to salvage some of the objects inside.

Ethan tried to prevent her from stepping in the glass with
the flimsy shoes. “Stop, you’re going to cut yourself.”

“Those were Gram’s crystal goblets. I wanted to use them in
the front window display. Now they’re broken.”

Ethan swung her up to catch her under her knees and carry
her, ignoring her protests, and headed for the front door of her shop.

“Put me down. I can walk.”

“You’re in shock. We will come back and get your box of
glasses.

“No! I’m not leaving Gram’s glassware out here with the
trash.” She wiggled out of his arms to stomp over and picked up the box hugging
it to her chest in an act of defiance.

Caleb bent down and picked up the discarded blood covered
t-shirt. The little spit fire grabbed the shirt out of his hand and mashed it
back against her chin while she strode toward the front door.

Ethan stood at the door and jiggled the handle he should
already know wouldn’t open. The shock of the morning’s events had taken their
toll. “It’s locked.”

Caleb’s mental tone didn’t communicate any of his outward
calm.
Genius, of course it’s still
locked. The keys probably went flying when she fell.

Ethan, you’ll have to
break in.

“Don’t you dare break my
doors.
”
They both froze at her command. Caleb hadn’t a clue how she would know what
they’d thought to each other. He turned to her. She was a puzzle.

Then, he somehow knew the countless hours she’d spent
searching for the double doors that would provide the entrance to her world,
Salynne’s
. Additional hours spent stripping
and refinishing them to their former beauty.

Her joy in the treasure was immeasurable. The psi-energy was
being unusually fickle today with the random bits of information it gave him.

“Men always break anything they can’t figure out.” She
quirked her eyebrow “I have the key.” She opened her right hand, revealing the
keys and various deep cuts they’d made across her palm from gripping them
during the fall.

Caleb narrowed his gaze staring at the places where the keys
sliced into her skin gouging through the flesh of her hand.

More blood, so much
blood flowing from her injuries
, Caleb’s psychic contact drifted to Ethan
and he finished the thought that had both of them freaked out,
and inexplicably sucked up by our skins like
an industrial hefty
.

Nothing was without consequence and he didn’t doubt this shit
would be monumental.

≽
∞
≼

A dry, fetid odor
hung in the darkened air of the abandoned slaughterhouse. The musty sweetness
of death was an aroma he had become accustomed to and found almost pleasant. The
work soothed his tension over the colossal failure of what should have been a
brilliant maneuver. His plans didn’t fail, not until today. He was The Chosen.

He shook his head to stop replaying the memory of the woman
falling, her scream shattering the air like glass. How could such a perfect
plan result in a bungled mess like this? He’d planned every detail, set up
events so perfect. Damn, when she fell… well almost fell, through the stairs,
she should have saved herself and opened the portal to Wyrmarach, a primitive
world parallel to the human one. He needed to stop replaying the scene of her
rescue in his mind.

How to make something of this whole mess? He needed Wren to
embrace her role as Dragon Guardian to find her power. Something about her drew
the terrifying creatures to her presence. The shape-shifter he’d captured felt
safe to transform into the powerful beast, unobserved in the woods.

 
Meticulously stalking
his human shell on the inkling of suspicion had led to so much more than The
Chosen had anticipated. He’d been present to see legend become reality in front
of his eyes. He’d remained hidden to witness the miraculous change. Carefully
following the human form of the shifter had eventually led to the woman.

She wore the necklace identifying her as Dragon Guardian.
He’d been fascinated by its curious design, obviously old with a pattern on the
stones that seemed at times to almost move. He’d tried to gain influence over
her with courtship and been summarily rejected.
Stupid cunt
.

His mind worked while he cut, ignoring the enraged howling
from Phaux, the dragon beast beneath his knife.

He had searched diligently until he found a sketch of a woman
in one of the older books. He’d almost passed it by until he noticed her
wearing the jewelry he recognized, like bread crumbs that one reference had led
to another and then another.

Scrupulous research had revealed clues to the magical
secrets. He’d interpreted the references he needed in the ancient Greek scrolls
and texts. He’d been so positive of his translation. He’d pieced together the
information like reclamation of a grand mosaic. His plans evolved from there.
He must have overestimated her abilities.

He had watched, ready to run to the portal and jump behind
her into the dimensional shift. He should have gained entrance to the hidden
world. He’d planned to take the necklace and assume her place as the Dragon
Guardian. That would guarantee him the authority to conduct further experiments
in the dragon world-- power, and status would all be his for the taking.

Then, he’d keep her by his side, chained if necessary. He’d
keep her as his very own pet to explore at his leisure. She’d bow to his power,
a revenge which he would savor.

Working always helped him think to sharpen the analytical
edge of his scientific mind. He concentrated on his task as the ichor and blood
coated his gloved hands, pouring from the shallow slicing wounds to channel
down the sides of the great beast and puddle on the floor.

A bigger swath was necessary to determine if size influenced
the outcome of the experiment. A larger piece might reveal the hidden magic.
The Chosen carved the patch from across the monster’s broad back humming a
discordant melody while music and pounding bass reverberated around the room.

Bound by chains and sound, the dragon was immobile other than
his pitiful vocalizations. The monstrous creature’s body remained stretched and
pinned by low frequency sound-waves interlaced with a heavy base throb.

The right frequency pitch incapacitated the brute a quite
effective restraint when experiments required direct hands-on contact. The
wretched creature moaned between shrieks of rage and pain while he worked at
peeling a bath sheet-sized swath of skin from the large dragon’s body.

This morning his cleverness had failed him. The image of
Wren, her scream of terror, falling toward the pavement as he’d intended,
superimposed itself over the bellows of agony from the dragon as he cut.
Apparently, she didn’t know her ancestry.

Damn, for something so soft and thin, this hide was
resilient. By appearance, the skin should part like hot butter. The harsh
hacking sound of the hide ripping echoed through the cavernous room. The tissue
fought the knife like reinforced Kevlar. The blade was too dull.