Successors (24 page)

“It’s dragon…” Ethan’s mouth began to form the words but he gagged.

“Yes, it is.” Danato threw a cluster of tissues in the trashcan. They hit the bottom with a sickening splotch. “More importantly, it is the safest, most effective natural steroid
not
known to man. You will drink it, just as you have every morning for the last three months.”

“I’ll puke it up! Look at me!” He held his mouth, feeling himself heave again.

“I have an endless supply of it.”

Ethan was about to object again, but he saw the determination in Danato. There was no more arguing this point. He forcefully swallowed as he looked down at the mess of green on him.

“There’s a lesson for you, kid,” Belus said as he opened the door. “Never ask a question you don’t want the answer to.” His uproarious laughter continued until the door shut behind him.

45

The hangar door loomed before Ethan. He stared at them curiously. He tilted his head one way, then the other. Belus stood beside him looking from the doors to him. “What are you looking at?”

“It must be huge,” Ethan said.

“It is.”

“How does it live in there?” He shifted the sword holstered on his hip.

“They are surprisingly docile creatures. They prefer cool, dark places. I suppose it stems back to the days when they sheltered in caves.”

“I could see that.” He nodded absent-mindedly.

“You ready for this, kid?”

He shook his head. “I don’t suppose we can postpone it?”

“Nope, gotta stick to the schedule.”

Ethan took a deep breath. “Just one more thing: is this the one you guys get the stuff from?”

Belus thought about what he meant and shook his head. “No, this one’s a girl,” he said and ran back to the front of the gym as fast as his legs would carry him. He pulled a large red lever by the light switch. The massive garage door on the opposite side of the gym shuddered and lifted with a groan. “Good luck!” Belus hollered over the noise.

Ethan looked back at him. A long red line separated the gym into the safe half and the not-so-safe half. Until now, he hadn’t paid much attention to it. He took a deep breath and pulled his sword.

The rising door revealed curved yellowing claws, dull blue-green scales, and flaring nostrils with just a tinge of mucus. Just as Ethan suspected, she was the size of a private jet—give or take some variations in girth. There was one thing he hadn’t expected though.

As he stood at attention, prepared to fight, the massive dragon before him was sprawled out; eyes closed and fast asleep.

“She’s sleeping,” he whispered and glanced back at Belus.

“Yeah, they’re like cats,” Belus said, leaning against the door with his arms crossed. “They sleep most of their life. Which is good, because she’s a pain in the ass to walk.”

Ethan gave Belus a questioning look about this statement, but movement drew his eye back to the dragon.

“Oh, she’s waking up now,” Belus said. “We ought to have a good battle in twenty minutes or so.”

Ethan looked back at him to verify the time, and dropped his sword with a scoff.

Thirty minutes later, Belus still leaned against the door to the gym, while Ethan resorted to lying on the floor. He brandished his sword at the ceiling. “So, she really doesn’t spit fire?” he asked.

“No, the answer hasn’t changed. She is a big, fat, lazy mammalian lizard. She isn’t magic, and we don’t call her Puff.”

“But she flies, right?” Ethan asked.

“When she feels like it.” Belus looked up with interest at the hangar. “You know that… stuff you drink?”

“Yes.”

“You’re about to find out why we make you take it.”

He raised his head to look at the hangar. The dragon was awake. Bowed down low, she twitched her tail furiously. Her wings shuffled as she eyed a certain someone within her perimeter. Her low grumble vibrated his eardrums.

Game on.

She darted at him with surprising speed. Ethan jumped upright and blocked her bite with a clumsy sword parry. Her sheer strength of mass pushed him back. He regained his balance only to be knocked down with her tail.

Her head darted in again for a bite. He blocked. The sword bounced off the hard scales around her mouth. It made a satisfying clank but didn’t do anything to hurt her.

He retreated into the curl of her body where he could see her tail and her face, a mistake he would never repeat. He shrieked as her rear claws ripped into his back.

Her massive paw pushed him face down onto the cold cement floor. He could feel the weight pressing on his lungs. He couldn’t inhale. He could only exhale.

Over the sound of his own wheezing and the dragon’s congested snorts, he heard Belus yelling, “Toss away the sword!” His right arm was outstretched in front of him. He was no longer holding the weapon, but it was within his reach. He pulled it back to him and slid it out again.

As the blade gained distance from him, the weight of the dragon lifted. He inhaled deeply, feeling the first of many cracked ribs that would come from these exercises.

He saw Belus rushing to his aid, and then nothing.

46

Without concern of being caught, Cori and Vince were free to return to his apartment in Paris where they flourished. Vince spared no expense in romancing Cori with dinners, clothes, and jewelry. They took every opportunity to enjoy the nightlife the city had to offer.

On the way back from one such evening, Cori’s high heel got stuck in a grate. “Oh, wait,” she said as their linked hands threatened to break. “I did it again.” She groaned.

Vince laughed and returned to rescue her. They were both dressed in their finest clothes, having just come from dinner. She was wearing a flirty red dress that lifted when she spun and, of course, stilettos that she didn’t have an operating license for. He was in gray slacks with a light blue shirt that felt like a sweater, but was as thin as a t-shirt.

He pulled up his sleeves, revealing two wide leather bangles that decorating his wrists. He knelt down to remove the shoe’s heel from the hole it had lodged in.

“Maybe stilettos are not the best shoe for me,” she said, leaning on him for support.

“I don’t think high heels in general are good for you.” Vince released her shoe and looked around the sidewalk behind them. Cori could see him sniffing the air. He tended to do that more at night when he was concerned about muggers. Not that he felt threatened by human attacks, but his concern was for guns. She was still vulnerable to gunshots, even if he wasn’t.

“See someone?” she asked. His eyes shot up to her and he shook his head. Even if he had sensed something, he probably wouldn’t tell her. He got her shoe out and ushered her to move along.

“What’s the hurry?” she asked, feeling the strain in her shins from the quick pace.

“We should get home.”

“No, I want to go dancing.”

He looked at her pleading eyes and smiled. He sniffed the air again. “Yes, we can dance, but not too late. I need to be at the gallery tomorrow.”

They walked on toward their destination, without concern for anyone or anything that might be lurking in the dark behind them.

“Don’t you think I should start looking for a job?” Cori asked.

“I would prefer if you didn’t.”

“Why? Don’t you like money?” She scoffed.

“Sure, but I would rather you stay out of the public eye while you’re dating me.”

“So, when I break up with you I can get a job?” she asked cheerily.

“Precisely,” he smirked. “Do you by chance know when that will be? I have a few girls lined up and they won’t wait forever.”

She punched his shoulder, and he pretended it hurt. “You slime, now I’m never going to break up with you.” She shoved him against the brick building they were walking along, which took a great deal of effort on her part. “You’ll just have to suffer with me forever.”

He pulled her body against his. “It will be a difficult task, but I will have to endure it.” He gave her a lascivious grin and let out a low rumble in his throat that could only be described as a growl.

She could feel the heat of his body as he leaned in for a kiss. She pulled herself out of his arms. His hands dragged along her body but didn’t try to hold onto her. He was always very careful never to force her or subdue her. His face showed his confusion at her retreat.

“We should save this for after dancing.” She waited for his response. She expected either a complaint about her rejection or a begrudged surrender, but he just smirked and crossed his arms.

“Come on.” She tugged at his arm.

He shook his head and let his eyes traverse her curves.

“No, we’re in the middle of Paris. Someone will come by any moment.”

He didn’t say anything but raised his index finger to point at her. He turned his hand and motioned with that powerful finger for her to come hither.

She bit her lip and came over to him slowly. He laughed at her reluctance. He pulled her close and gave her a long sultry kiss, but she no longer felt the heat in his body.

“You are such a tease.” He swatted her butt before taking her by the hand to walk on.

“We’re right on the street,” she explained.

“Yes, yes, but refusing me even one kiss is just cruel.”

“Crueler to give you
only
one kiss, don’t you think?” She looked away, hiding her red face.

“I suppose, but...” He stopped her mid-step and dipped her back for a long sensual kiss that sent shivers down her body. He parted from her and brought her back up swiftly. Her head spun from it and the kiss. She leaned her head against his shoulder. “The one kiss is for your benefit, my love,” he whispered in her ear. “Think of it as priming.”

She lifted her head from his shoulder and looked into his twinkling brown eyes. She loved the power he had over her. She was defenseless against his charms, and she savored the defeat. She lifted herself up to his lips for another kiss, but he pulled away. “No, no, we’re in the middle of the street.” He clicked his tongue.

“What about priming?” she said, licking her top lip.

He smiled and laughed a little. “You’d better be careful, love.” He kept a smile on his face, but his words were heavy with warning. “Unlike you, I have no reservations about ripping off your panties and putting you against that wall.”

She pulled back and stood a little ways away from him for a moment. As hot as it sounded to have sex in a public place, the reality was embarrassing and illegal. She smiled and put her hands behind her back. They walked for a few blocks without touching or talking to cool themselves off.

“How about there?” She pointed to a club two blocks up where a steady stream of people kept the volume of the music adjusting with the opening and shutting of the door.

“Sure,” he said, taking her hand again.

Vince pushed through crowds of people huddling by the front door. A few annoyed patrons tried to keep him back to maintain their position in the immobile herd, but trying to stop Vince was like blocking an elephant: possible, but never successful.

Cori tucked in tight behind him, slipping through the parted sea of people before it closed behind him. He kept his hand to his back so she could keep in contact with him. If her fingers slipped from his hand, he would stop and go back to retrieve her.

Waves of tobacco smoke, pot smoke, and maybe a few more Cori hadn’t jaded herself with, billowed through the air. The booming music would have been an instant headache to anyone over the age of forty. Truthfully it made her head hurt too, but somehow the youthful desire to party overruled the brain shaking-volume.

They found a spot on the dance floor where they could hide inside the crowd. Cori did better on the dance floor with stilettos than she did walking. A few heavy songs got her moving. She hadn’t really considered herself a good dancer, but she liked to move to the music. She closed her eyes and moved however it felt right. The memory of dancing with her doppelgangers made her smile.

Several songs later, they played something slower for the romantics in the club. Mostly it was an excuse for everyone to grind. Cori hung onto Vince in spite of being hot and sweaty. She laid her head on his shoulder, an opportunity she rarely had without stilettos. As she looked around the room at the couples grinding to the love song, she caught a few couples outright dry humping each other. Cori chuckled at this. At least they weren’t out in the street.

As her survey moved up to the balcony section, she saw eyes staring back at her. A woman, typically French: tall, slender, with short black hair and a cigarette between her fingers like a natural extension of her hand. She was staring right at her. Cori averted her eyes for a while and looked back, but the woman was still openly staring at her, and wouldn’t stop.

“Vince.” Cori spoke without moving her lips.

“Yes.”

“There is a woman staring at me up in the balcony. Do you know her?”