Damian gave them the truncated version of the story he’d told Andi, about his great-whatever ancestor having forged an alliance with a dragon only to betray it completely, stealing its power, but in doing so bringing a curse down on his house. And…that in the fight between Damian and his dragon, his dragon would eventually win.
“So, you’re going to give the Heart over to us to study, right?” Mills asked when he was finished.
“Yes, but any time you open the box it’s in, you’ll have to warn me first.”
“Why?” Zach asked.
“Because the box it’s in is a magical dampener. When it’s open, its effects work faster, and my dragon….” Damian inhaled deeply, remembering how wild the thing was when they were at the mall. “It lets it be more in charge,” Austin grunted warily, and Damian nodded at the man. “Yeah. We don’t always agree on things. It hurts. And it’s hard to control.”
“Which is why you’ve been making me work on that gun to kill you,” Jamison stated.
“Precisely.”
It doesn’t matter what they attempt, his dragon told him. The curse cannot be undone.
“What happens if your dragon escapes while you’re here and not in the Realms?” Mills asked.
“I…don’t know,” he said, right before his dragon told him, I would open a rift and return, and he blinked.
Is that something you can do?
His dragon seemed to ponder this. I believe so.
Damian frowned. If it could’ve opened a rift to go home, why hadn’t it tried already any of the other times when it’d longed to do so and was almost in control? Are you just telling me that so my friends don’t murder you on sight?
His dragon laughed at him. I am not afraid of any weapon.
“Damian?” Mills prompted gently.
“Sorry,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “If it ever comes out, and you’re sure it’s not me, don’t hesitate.”
“That’s grim, and not in the cat-sense,” Jamison said.
“You’ve trained a gun on me before.”
“Yes, but I have excellent trigger control,” Jamison said, making his metallic hand clack between them.
“What if we just put you into a box that was a magic dampener?” Mills mused aloud.
“Like some sort of Ken doll?” Austin asked.
“No,” Damian said. “I’ll live my life. And we’ll make it work. Or we won’t. But I’m not pausing anything in the interim.” Except for these two days without Andi.
“It’s a heavy burden,” Max said, the first time the man had spoken since Damian shared his story. He’d taken a spot on the ground, his back against Ryana’s bed, and while Damian couldn’t see his eyes what with the goggles, his weapons master’s lips were in a thin, straight line of concern. Maximillian had been part of his father’s court from before his mother’s time, until after the dragon’d taken him. He’d seen his father change, losing himself bit by bit over time to his dragon, until there was no more human left. “We’ll help you lift it, as best we can.”
Damian nodded. “Thank you.”
Zach stroked the dark stubble on his chin. “How did your father die? I mean, presumably, the heart was in the box over there as well, right?”
“He died in combat, as a dragon. It was at the end of a war that he’d started as a human, and to be honest, I don’t even know if his dragon had a stake in things so much as it wanted an excuse to take a few thousand humans on.” Damian and Ryana had toured the charred pit that’d been all that remained after his father’s dragon had immolated itself to secure victory, taking out most of the magicians left on the opposing side. “I had hoped that distance would forestall things. Which it did seem to—”
“Until your sister messed up by bringing it over,” Austin said, giving his erstwhile patient a worried look.
“To be fair, she probably didn’t know I was going to save her,” Damian said. Although she must’ve been hoping—there was a reason Lyka had come to his mirror for help. “I don’t suppose you can talk to the bird?” he asked Grim, who had been creeping up on the cheese plate Mills had set down, scanning for crumbs.
Grimalkin fell to sit on his haunches. “I tried, Damian, but she’s been very close-beaked. Thinking about whatever happened over there—it hurts her.”
“Understood,” Damian told him, and then to everyone else, “Grim says it’s a no-go.”
Max angled his limbs to rest his hands on his knees. “I still wish we knew what’d happened,” he said.
“Me too,” Damian said. “But I really just want her to get better.”
“What’s to stop us from opening up a mirror and throwing it back? Or launching it into space?” Zach asked.
Everyone else present looked at Damian expectantly. “It is a sought-after thing, and it cannot be destroyed,” Max said on his behalf. “At least, that’s what your father said, Damian,” he added.
“Well, we haven’t tried yet,” Mills said.
Damian realized that this was yet another way that here, on Earth, he was doing the unthinkable. His father had only shown him the Heart once—after his dragon joined him. He didn’t even know which vault of the palace it’d lived in, and here he was, willing to give it over to his five closest friends to experiment on. “My fate is still linked to it. I don’t think I want it destroyed, so much as I want to be unchained. When it was in my stepmother’s control, I could trust she’d keep it guarded, due to our mutual animosity. Now, though….” Could Mills really manage it?
“Launch it into the sun?” Jamison guessed in hope. “We own rockets—”
“Anything with enough magical power could open a rift between here and the sun. That’s ninety-two million miles of opportunity, my love,” Mills said, patting Jamison’s knee affectionately. He caught her hand in his and interlaced his fingers with it.
“So, what’s protecting it now?” Zach asked, doing an excellent job of project managing—even when that project was the object of Damian’s eventual demise. Damian gave him a rueful grin.
“Grimalkin, and the fact that I’m sure the chaos back home is still evolving. They may not even know it’s gone yet.”
“I’ve made headway on Ryana’s false-corpse, but if we knew what kind of attack they were under, it would help with authenticity,” Mills said.
“Won’t they know it’s not her, though?” Damian asked with a squint and watched Mills bite her lips.
“Not if I do it right,” she answered precisely. “But don’t ask me how yet, please. I’m still working on it.”
One of his eyebrows quirked up, but he acquiesced to her request. “Okay. But later?”
“Yes,” she agreed emphatically.
“Have we gotten any more news from the trackers Andi placed?” Damian asked Jamison. The man closed his eyes for a second.
“The boat’s parked at the harbor, and the car’s at the airport; both appear to be currently empty. So, nothing useful yet, but they’ve both got a few days of batteries left. I’ll let you know if anything comes in.”
Damian nodded, then turned to Zach. “And any news from Stella?”
“About that,” Zach said, giving his brother a dark look.
“Here it comes,” muttered Austin.
“I talked with her this evening after we returned. The Hunter we gave her didn’t know much, except that there was an important meeting coming up in two nights. No location, though. He’d only heard it from other Hunters.”
“I don’t suppose enough of him’s left for us to interrogate ourselves?” Austin asked archly.
“Doubtful.”
Damian grunted. Maybe this brief separation from Andi was well-timed—he wouldn’t have to talk her out of coming to stalk Hunters with them.
“I don’t like the idea of Stella out there on her own,” Zach went on.
Seeing as Damian currently intimately understood that pain, he nodded. “You want to bring her into the fold?”
“I do. As for whether she’d accept—”
“Or whether the rest of us would let her,” Austin said, and Zach frowned at him.
“She’s a loner. So far. But yes, I’d like to be able to ask.”
“Is she trustworthy?” Damian asked, steamrolling Austin’s concerns.
“I think so,” Zach said.
“She stabbed you!” Austin protested.
Zach shrugged with a boyish grin. “I survived.”
“Jesus Christ,” Austin groaned, looking first at Damian, and then over at Mills and Jamison, clearly sitting together while beside him on the couch, before staring at Max. “Max, you and I are the only ones here not going soft.”
Max quietly pursed his lips and scratched his chin. “No comment.”
Jamison chuckled, Zach snickered, and Mills outright laughed as Austin groaned and stood, waving all of them toward the door. “Okay. Screw all of y’all. I’m tired. You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.”
“But we are home,” Mills said, confused, though moving to stand.
“It’s a saying,” Jamison explained, sweeping the cheese plate up off the floor to follow her. Grimalkin had already licked it clean. The cat bounced back onto the bed and nestled himself in the crook behind Ryana’s knee.
“Don’t forget I’ve got a board meeting to get magicked up for in two hours, Mills,” Zach said, filing out first.
“I could never,” the witch told him truthfully.
“Mills, wait a moment outside, will you?” Damian asked as everyone else made their way out of the room and to their appointed floors. Then he turned to Austin, who was stretching himself back out on the couch. “Thank you for this, by the way.”
Austin tipped the edge of an imaginary cowboy hat at him and turned toward the bed, eyes only half-lidded.
Damian met up with Mills in the hall, and she smiled up at him. “Did Andi like her pajamas? I like to think I have fantastic taste in cozy sleepwear.”
“She did like them. Very much.” He decided not to tell her what he’d done to them, for her sake. “Can you buy her a few extra for me? Also, she needs a purple velvet sectional, although I have no idea what that is.”
Mills laughed. “I’ll have Jamison pull up her apartment’s blueprints for measurements and send one to her.”
“Thanks,” he said.
She turned, walking for the stairs, assuming her audience was over, and he hesitated. There was already so much on her plate, he felt selfish asking her for more, and yet….
She turned around. “You can just ask it, you know.”
“Is my aura a needy red right now?” Damian asked, gesturing to himself.
“No. It’s more of a guilty green,” she told him. “Whatever it is, I won’t be mad at you, I promise.”
Damian started walking with her until they were in the entry hall, and he could sit down on the stairs. Mills sat a few stairs up from him, moving the long braid of her hair, so it cascaded down the stairs beside her like a sturdy rope. “I was thinking when you were talking earlier—”
“I am sorry about Michael, Damian, really,” Mills said.
“No, I get that. Michael wouldn’t have wanted you to injure yourself to save him. Neither would Jamison, though,” he said, giving her a stern look. “But let’s not cross any bridges before their time; it was more about the breathing thing. Andi was very unhappy the other day when I had to go and leave her behind. And, as she took the time to remind me in exquisite detail, while there are a million ways that she could accidentally die when it comes to me, there’s a million and one.”
Mills nodded as he went on.
“So, I was wondering if there was something you could create or spell for me, to give to her—some sign of life. Just so that she knows I’m okay, even if I’m not with her.”
Mills picked up her braid and started playing with the end of it, pondering. “What were you envisioning?”
“Something small. Smaller, the better, probably. And easily carried.”
She nodded deeply. “Jewelry, then. And what are you willing to trade for it?”
He blinked. The question was very unlike her. “I can pay you, obviously, but—”
“I mean life-wise,” she interrupted him. “A spell would just be like one of Jamison’s trackers. Eventually, it’d run out of charge. If you really want her to know how you are, you will have to give up a piece of yourself to it.” She paused to search for words. “It is a strange kind of magic you’re asking for, Damian. On the verge of dark, almost, only you’re doing it out of love…and don’t tell me you don’t love her. Remember who it is you’re talking to. No, this is the kind of thing that has to be freely given, and in whatever quantity you deem fit. It’s not prescriptive…it’s unquantifiable.”
Damian considered this. “When you say a piece of me…what precisely do you mean?”
“That’s also up to you. It’s the kind of thing you’ll know when you know.” She waved her hands with the braid in them. “I hate to be so vague, but this is that kind of magic.”
Damian grunted. “How long would it take you to make?”
“A day or so. My part’s easy, really; yours, not so much.” Mills stood as he did, giving his chest a pat. “Just don’t give her your actual heart. We need that to stay inside of you.”
“I wouldn’t want to curse her,” he said with a snort.
Mills inhaled to say something, and then he could almost watch her swallow her words, as her friendly smile went close-lipped and tight. There was an instant in which he could’ve pressed her to make her say the thing she was sorely tempted to, but he had a feeling he already knew what it was.
That regarding himself and Andi and curses, it was already too late.
She should’ve known that without Damian around, the nightmares would come back. That might’ve been the only thing that could’ve changed her mind earlier if only she’d remembered. But she hadn’t, so she woke up that morning after hours of being chased in her dreams by a half-skinned hound, sweaty and exhausted and alone.
She heard Sammy puttering and the scent of brewing coffee wafted underneath her door. Andi got out of bed and went to a dresser to pull out an older pair of pajamas that she now knew were sadly insufficient and went out to see her roommate.
Sammy was surprised to see her. Her curly red hair was already up in a professional bun, and she was wearing her work uniform. “I didn’t make enough coffee for three, missy,” her roommate said, pouring the remnants of a pot into her thermos.
Andi waved her down. “He had to go home, and I should go back to sleep.”
“You’re working tonight?”
“Yeah. My schedule’s all jacked up,” she said, stifling a yawn.
“Did you sleep at all last night?” Sammy teased. “Before he went home, that is. Wait,” her eyes narrowed, “did he go home just so he wouldn’t have to let me drive?”
Andi snorted. “There was sleeping. And there was not sleeping. And I’m going to get us a replacement couch, I swear, and the drives are still on…as far as I know.”
“You don’t sound definitive,” Sammy said, screwing her thermos cap on.
“I’m…not?”
“Oh my God, Andi,” Sammy groaned, already mourning the loss of her time in Damian’s Pagani. “What happened?”
“He’s super intense?” Andi said, wincing. “And he’s used to getting his way.”
“Uh, that can be kinda hot. Assuming he knows what he’s doing.” Sammy gave her a look.
“It is, and he does, but…look, can we just hang out tonight before I go to work? Together? Like in the olden days of last month when boys still sucked?”
Sammy fished her phone out of her pocket. “I had plans for tonight, but this is me, canceling them for you,” she said, quickly texting someone.
“Thank you. I owe you.”
“Plus, you go into work at ten. I can totally swing by his place afterward,” she went on, grinning.
Andi grinned back. “I’ll take whatever I can get of you.”
She waited until Sammy headed out the door and stood on their stoop, waving like a 1950’s housewife until she got into her car and safely headed out. Then Andi scanned the parking lot for sleek black cars holding insane cannibalistic passengers, and finding none, she went back inside and locked the door.
She thought about plopping down on the couch, but that’d only bring back memories, plus probably make her smell like dragon. She did flip over the couch cushions. It was the least she could do until she got a new one.
It wasn’t like Netflix could distract her with anything weirder than her own life right now, besides. She went back to her bedroom and pulled out the photo album, bringing it out to the kitchen counter and its much better light and began at the beginning of the photos.
It was definitely her mother. In all of them.
She’d always thought her mom was more mercurial than the mothers of her friends, but she assumed it was because of the different ways they’d been raised. She knew her mom was from a different generation and a different country…but now, a different century, too? Andi looked at the photos, feeling hopelessly lost. This page featured her mother standing in a cheongsam amidst a pile of skulls, her hair bunned up with beautiful floral hair pins, and strange pointed jewelry covering her last two fingers like she was some sort of evil-goth Chinese princess from one of the historical kung fu dramas they used to watch together.
Only, this had been her mother’s actual life. No wonder she’d made fun of Andi for going briefly vegan in seventh grade.
But even though Andi knew it was her mother in each of the photos, none of them had the feel of her, until they got into modern times—until Danny and Andi started showing up in them as well. The photos then were looser, not as well framed, far more casual and blurry—but they were happier. All of them. The skulls were gone. Was that because her mother had had a change of heart, or if whatever it was they’d been killing was gone?
Without her mother to ask, her uncle was her next best bet. She had too much history with Danny to even think straight when she saw him, plus he had far too personal a stake in whatever the fuck this was. Whereas, yes, maybe her uncle had been a liar her whole life too, but seeing him didn’t instantly send her into a blind rage.
Yet.
They were probably getting there, though.
Andi sank back on the bar stool she was sitting on. After she got her answers—answers that she was almost certain not to like—what would be left? Arguably, it wasn’t even worth finding answers out if she knew it was all going to anger her. Curiosity killed the cat and all that, but at least the cat fucking knew.
She sighed, slammed the photo album shut, and carried it back into the bedroom with her, putting it carefully onto her desk before taking an Ambien and crawling back into bed. She set her phone’s alarm for an aspirational eight hours later. There was no way she’d sleep that much, especially if she kept having nightmares, but since she was working tonight she had to try.
Just as she was about to drift off under the Ambien’s spell, her phone screen flashed with a text.
Going to sleep now, Damian informed her.
Me too, she texted him back. The dots of him typing his reply began immediately.
Then good night, princess.
She smiled a little at the phone in spite of herself and texted back, G’night, dragon, before turning her phone off.
He was glad that he’d texted her.
He’d felt a fool, of course, worrying she wouldn’t respond and all the things that that might mean. For a creature—and man—used to taking permission for granted, the delicacy of earthly courtship rituals was baffling. But Andi was of earth, and she deserved his patience.
It just killed him that these things took time because it felt like he was running out of it—ever since the Heart had reappeared. He could chase his fears away when he was with Andi or his crew, but alone, it was like he could feel the thing beating, despite the box, despite the room it was in not having doors. He knew he could put it into the middle of the Forgetting Fire itself, and it would neither burn nor stop.
So, he forced himself to concentrate on something slightly better—how he’d satisfy Mills’s request, to give her something of himself to transmute for Andi. What would possibly work? For all the possessions he had, none of them felt intimate enough, and Sammy would be horribly depressed if Damian gave Mills his favorite car to crunch into a diamond.
I have a suggestion, his dragon told him, and showed him, flashing images of action across his mind. Damian considered it…and it felt right.
Yes, he agreed.
He lay down on his bed in his bedroom, watched by the darkened mirrors surrounding him like so many black eyes, and tried to imagine better places and better days, all with Andi, to fall asleep to.
Damian woke up later, not sure how much time had passed—it was light outside. And he was greeted by a text from Andi. Up now, sent from hours ago. And I’d say thank you for the couch delivery, but we both know that it was Mills, wasn’t it? Her words sounded sharp to him until she followed it up with a grin.
I did tell her you needed one, so it’s at least partly me. He texted her back. Sleep well?
Until they dropped the couch off, yes.
Sorry about that. I should’ve been more specific with my delivery request.
Eh. It’s okay. Sleeping’s hard for me, anyhow.
Nightmares?
Some, she admitted, followed by a frown. But also working nightshift and being on the opposite schedule from the world. He wished he could change the world for her when she added, It can’t be helped though. What are your plans for today?
Not sure. Food, training, killing any monsters that pop up. You?
A little more domestic. I’m going to rest more, then go out with Sammy tonight, just us girls, don’t get worried. Then, work, hooray. (That was a sarcastic hooray. They don’t make an emoji for that level of sarcasm yet.)
Damian smiled at his phone, then shook his head. You do realize we could have this conversation in person, right?
Yes. But that would be cheating.
Who precisely is keeping score?
The Rock is. I’m looking at him here from my bed, and he’s telling me to be strong. Damian snorted as she went on. Vin agrees with him, by the way. They both think that less than forty-eight hours is nothing. Between sleeping, eating, me working, and you killing monsters, it’ll be over in no time.
Damian sighed. As much as he liked to claim it was his dragon that was the creature of action, he was too. This distance felt wrong, and it angered him.
I miss you, he admitted.
It felt like he watched the dots of her reply spin on forever before she finally stated: I miss you, too. But before he could get his hopes up, she continued, We can both make it till midnight tomorrow night, though.
While technically I know that we can, it is hard not to feel like this is punishment.
The dots circled again. No. If I wanted to punish you, I’d send you nude photos.
Desire poured through him, mixed with anxiety. How many nude photos do you have? he asked her.
Countless, she teased him. And then an image popped up—of the back of her hand.
Andi, he said, and finally went through the stupid smiling faces on his phone to send her one that had its tongue out.
She sent a string of laughing faces back to him as he noticed that the sheets in the background of her photo were changed from the ones he’d just given her. Why would she have changed them so quickly? They hadn’t even defiled them yet. Or was that an old photo?
A new image loaded quickly—this time, of her chest. Her beautiful breasts were slanted slightly back by gravity; she’d clearly held the camera directly over herself and snapped it quickly. He knew it was a photo from just now because he could see a small spot inside her cleavage where his mouth had marked her yesterday evening, and the sheets were definitely back to penguins.
Look, Mister, when I send photos over, I generally expect some sort of response, flashed on his screen. Unless you’re too busy with your hands to type….
He tapped the icon on his phone to initiate a call, and she picked up. “Speakerphone?” she guessed.
“Andi,” he began, his voice low, ready to point out how arbitrary this entire thing was, and to ask her why she’d changed her sheets, then he remembered that he was trying extremely hard to be reasonable for ridiculous human definitions thereof.
“I’m not punishing you, Damian, honest,” she said, defusing him instantly. “Maybe I’m punishing myself…I don’t know.”
“For what?”
He heard her sigh on the far end of the line, and he wished that he could hold her.
“I looked at all of my mother’s photos. All of them. I mean, I really, really looked. And apart from the fact that my mother apparently lied to me my entire life, she was a horrible person. I guess. I think. I don’t really know? And now that she’s dead, I never will.”
He could hear the pain echoing in her voice. “Andi…we are not the sum of our relatives.”
There was a long pause, and then she said, “I’d ask how you can be so sure, but I think I know.”
“I’m glad I shared enough family trauma with you then. And if I thought for one moment I was like my father, Andi,” Damian said, stretching out on his bed, “I would kill myself without hesitation.”
“Don’t say that!”
“Well, the irony is that if I actually were like my father, I would never dream of doing such a thing. But if that’s the reason you pushed me away, I understand.”
“Thank you,” she granted him. “But…I did mean everything I said last night. This morning. Shit, I don’t know, time keeps slipping away from me. Whenever I was telling you, I just needed some room to breathe.”
Damian grunted. “I like you breathing. So, please, do continue.”
“Oh, see, now I wish you were here so I could shove you,” Andi groaned. “Thanks for doing this for me, though.”
“I do possess a limited capacity for following explicitly stated instructions,” he said. “Even if it is hard sometimes to understand the human relationship process.”
“Your dragon probably thinks I’m insane, doesn’t he?”
Damian made a thoughtful sound. “No, actually, he trusts you. He doesn’t understand either, mind you, but he’s a lot more okay with that than I am,” he said, and he heard Andi chuckle.
“I’m glad I have one fan, at least.”
“Two for sure,” he said with a smile he hoped she heard. “And maybe as many as six,” he went on, thinking about the rest of his morning with his people. “Could be as high as seven, if my sister wakes up and you two get along.”
“I hope so…on both counts,” she said, and he thought he heard her smiling too.
Whatever doubts Damian had begun his phone call with had entirely evaporated after talking to her, and as much as he wanted to keep talking, this was probably his best chance to make a graceful exit from the conversation. “All right, princess. Get some rest and call or text before your shift tonight.”
There was an unwarrantedly long pause on the far end of the line, before Andi said, “Hmmmph.”
“What did I do now?”
“I sent you a photo, Damian. Technically, you’re supposed to send me one back, for equitable blackmail.”
Damian laughed. “What? I don’t think I even know how to take pictures with this thing.”
“You mean on all of your ‘countless’ dates, no one ever sent you nudes?”
“You’re the first of my ‘countless’ dates to actually have my real phone number.”
“No way. Wait…if that’s true, who manages your pretend phone?”
“Mills. She just told me what I needed to know before I went out with anyone.”
Andi started laughing hysterically. “Damian…I don’t know how to break this to you, Mills has been holding out. I bet you’ve got a substantial amount of nudity on that thing.”
“But…why?”
“Because that’s what people do, Damian. Earth-people who don’t have wings. And with all the vagina that you were getting thrown at you, oh my God,” she said, giggling helplessly, as he blinked at his ceiling, trying to understand.
“So, wait…as your boyfriend…I could expect you to send me nude photos? Any time I desired?”
Damian didn’t get an answer, just heard a rustling, and then a text popped up—a photo of the inverted V of Andi’s thighs, covered by a triangle of dark purple underwear. He wished he could reach through the screen and tear them off.
“You are evil, princess,” he said and heard her laugh even more.
“No, being evil is telling you that I might touch myself thinking about you when I hang up. I’ll call you tonight and tell you all about it if I do, though; I promise. Bye!” she said, and then hung up quickly, leaving him semi-hard and staring at his screen.
“This is more difficult than I had imagined,” he muttered to himself when one last text from her flashed across his screen—a photo of her hand placed seductively across her stomach, fingertips tucked under the edge of the purple fabric—and then a final text: Promise if you go out fighting you’ll come back safe to me?
Always, he messaged her and put his phone down.
What his dragon had suggested earlier was gruesome, but it felt right. And it was the last text from Andi that did it. She’d been so worried about him earlier—there was a chance that this distance wasn’t just born of denying their pull, or her past, but also paranoia. Her needing to prove to herself that she could manage her fears alone. And now that it was light out, he needed to hurry if he was going to give Mills’s magic time.
He got out of bed and went to the door that led to his dragon’s bathing pond, which was fitting because this was where it seemed everything with Andi had begun.
This will hurt, his dragon warned him.
Pain is fine, Damian thought, as his dragon had once told him, before pulling off his clothes and folding them neatly at the water’s edge. I would rather hurt us now than her hurt later.
So be it, his dragon said, as Damian relinquished control.
This time, it was like there was a massive beast below him and he dropped the reins—or some fantastic vehicle in which his foot was always on the brakes—and he’d just let it go. He closed his eyes as human, and within moments, he was gone, replaced by the monster always lurking inside of him.
The bathing pond, which’d seemed infinitely large as a human, now felt constraining, its roof in particular. Trapped inside of it, Damian felt his dragon’s will surge, with all of its monstrous desires to fly and be free.
The Heart’s proximity makes me stronger, his dragon rumbled gleefully. I do not think you could stop me now if you tried.
I thought we were in agreement? Damian said, tensing, mentally searching for the reins again and dropping his foot back down.
We are, the beast agreed, and reared up, the tips of its golden horns brushing against the room’s cave-like roof. For now. And then it bent its head and caught its teeth beneath the scales upon its own chest and bit down.
His dragon’s fangs weren’t sharp—they didn’t need to be. The creature had speed and crushing weight on its side. Which is why, as the thing bit down on its own flesh, Damian felt it through every nerve inside his body. It twisted its head, adjusted its bite, and continued, its muzzle filling with salty dark green blood and the heat of its own flesh, the sharpness of its own rough scales that he could feel across its tongue. It started snapping its neck, trying to yank the piece free, and Damian howled in wordless agony inside. He had never known such pain—nothing had ever gotten the chance to hurt him so badly before.
Do you wish me to stop? his dragon asked him, doing so, teeth still buried inside his own breast.
Damian reeled. No. But…hurry.
The beast growled and redoubled its efforts, and blackness came in at the edges of Damian’s vision—a darkness shot with scattering stars. Damian wondered what would happen if he passed out with his dragon in control—what it would do, where it would take him—if this was at all like what it would feel at the end when his dragon finally won—as it whipped its head free and spit out a still bleeding scaled chunk of flesh on the sandy shore.
Damian sank to his knees in the void that he occupied when his dragon was in charge. If there were any reins available, he would not have been able to pick them up; he couldn’t have fought his dragon now if he tried.
I am finished, his dragon announced before receding, folding once more into Damian’s human form, leaving Damian gasping at the water’s edge, his hand instinctively covering the bleeding wound above his heart.
Andi dozed again after sending Damian sexy photos to no avail. The fool had clearly taken her at her word and turned off his phone. She would have to sit him down and make him watch some romantic comedies, once she could think of any that didn’t annoy her or have any elements in them that he could take too seriously out of context. Dating him was kind of like training a puppy if that puppy could also become a sixty-foot dragon. She snorted, rolled out of bed, and went into her bathroom. “At least I don’t have to take a shower today,” she told her reflection, hoping that Damian was being true to his word and not looking through.
“So, like, what kind of fun are we going for tonight?” Sammy asked, knocking on her door after she heard the toilet flush and knew that Andi was awake.
“Coffee casual,” Andi shouted, working through her closet, pulling out some jeans and a cute shirt, and tucking her feet into sneakers she could also wear later at work. When she was dressed, she walked into the living room, where Sammy was already sitting on the couch Damian had delivered, in a bodycon blue dress and strappy heels.
“I said casual.” Andi laughed, looking at the differences between them.
Sammy grinned. “Yes, but, after casual, comes—”
“A booo-tay call,” Andi cut in, making fun of Sammy’s Irish accent. “And he’s not going to care what you look like when you get there, trust me.”
“But I do,” Sammy protested, bouncing up off the couch. “I take professional pride in these sorts of things.” She grabbed her purse and headed for the door, then gave Andi a sly look. “Nice couch, by the way.”
“Thanks,” Andi said, trying not to flush.
“Is there any way you two can fuck on the refrigerator next?” Sammy teased. “He’s strong, and you’re tiny; I know he can hold you up.”
“I’m gonna hold you up in a moment,” Andi muttered, loud enough to be heard, as she followed her snickering roommate out the door.
Not long after that, they were sitting across from each other at Jones & Shah Coffee, and Sammy was squinting at her over a steaming mocha.
“So…tell me why we got free coffee again?”
“The barista remembered me, and she really liked her iPhone,” Andi said with a mysterious shrug. “I helped her with a problem.” The problem of it almost being stolen by a former patient of Andi’s, not that many nights ago.
“If you say so,” Sammy said, giving up, but Andi was sure she’d circle back around later—Sammy didn’t give up on anything. Ever. Dead engines, dead-beat men—their apartment would be full of feral kittens if she thought they could pull it over on their landlord. Her obstinate belief that she could make anything make sense was the main reason why she’d dated Danny for so long. As if reading her mind, Sammy reached out to touch Andi’s hand. “So…any news?”
“Not yet. My uncle’s working on it, though,” Andi said with a tight smile. She hated lying to Sammy, but she had to. There was no way to explain that her brother, Sammy’s ex, was now some sort of dragon-thing and that her uncle—
“Hey…you’re not alone. I’m worried too.” Sammy must’ve seen her fears flash on her face. “Just because we didn’t end well doesn’t mean I didn’t care.”
Andi flipped her hand to catch Sammy’s. “Honestly, Sammy, if there’s one true thing I can tell you about Danny, you shouldn’t be wasting your time. I have to because I’m his sister, but one of us should get to escape scot-free.” She squeezed Sammy’s hand tightly and then let it go. “Tell me more about your smoking hot man? Or is he just a smoker?” she asked with a side-eye.
“I told him he had to quit or face my roommate’s judgment.”
“Did he sound scared?” Andi grinned.
Sammy grinned back. “Not after I told him you’re five-three.”
“Five-three-and-a-half, Sammy,” Andi tsked. “And just for that, I’m not going to get fucked on the fridge.”
“Fine,” Sammy said, feigning petulance. “Stove? Please? Not on, but…like, I’ve always wanted a conduction range—”
“What? No!” Andi put a hand to her chest in mock horror.
“Why do you have to ruin all my dreams?” Sammy said, slouching in her chair dramatically, before perking back to life. “Wait…if you fuck in my shower…will I get better water pressure? Or faster heating?”
Andi cackled. “He’s just rich, he’s not magical,” she said, even though it was the lie of the century, then stood. “I’ll be right back, I’ve gotta pee.”
Jones and Shah’s bathroom was gender-neutral and a single room, so you almost always had to wait in the hall outside. Andi knocked and found it occupied, so she crossed her arms and started reading the massive announcement board posted right outside while she waited. Another woman joined her, a feral-looking blonde with makeup shellacked on like armor, standing far, far, too close.
Andi put a hand over her purse and shifted her weight, wondering if the other woman would get the hint. When she didn’t, Andi gave up on being polite and physically scooted sideways, just as the door opened and a man stepped out. Andi caught the door as the woman moved forward. Maybe she’d never been here before and didn’t know how it worked?
“Oh…sorry!” she announced, after glancing inside, ducking back into partial shadow.
“No, clearly, you need it more. I can wait,” Andi said, making a sweeping gesture with her arm. The woman slunk forward, that was the right verb for it, she totally slunked—or was it slanked? Andi thought—darting in, grabbing the door out from Andi’s hand and slamming it behind her.
A junkie. Probably. Andi looked back at Sammy and saw her waving the attentions of some Lurch-sized random guy away, using Andi’s half-full cup of coffee as a prop, and knew she needed to get back to the table. Sammy was too hot for her own good tonight. That smoking guy had better really quit. The bathroom door burst open, and the woman prowled out, giving Andi an extended glare.
Andi caught the door again as the woman moved oddly as if to breathe on her, and in the distance, the man Sammy was trying to shoo away sat down. Andi let the door go and stormed over to rescue her friend. “Can I help you?”
“I don’t know, can you?” the man said back at her, and she could smell the alcohol on him. Clearly, a drunken fuckwit.
“I was just about to round up the trash, darling,” Sammy said, cracking her knuckles and leaning forward. Andi knew Sammy had a tongue on her like no one’s business.
“You’re not supposed to play with your food, Sammy,” Andi said.
Then the weird woman from the bathroom line was there. “You…get the fuck out…now.” She accosted the man without fear, despite the fact that he was three times her size. “You heard me,” she said when he didn’t move.
Sammy looked to Andi, who looked back and shrugged, and then the bathroom-line girl reached forward and caught the guy on his shoulder, Star Trek Spock-style, and practically picked him up with a pinch. He started instantly whining as she maneuvered him out the door.
“Who the fuck was that?” Sammy asked.
“No clue,” Andi said, sitting down. It was odd, and now that she knew about Damian’s life, her ability to calibrate local weirdness was all skewed. Was it a garden variety kind of strange or something that might come back to bite her—possibly literally—later?
“Well, it doesn’t matter,” Sammy said, brushing the incident away. Andi knew she had thick skin. She worked at a body shop; she got hit on all the time, whereas Andi usually only got hit on at work by people coming off of anesthesia and creeps on the bus. “Where were we…oh wait, were we talking about my man?”
Andi leaned forward with renewed intent, refocusing on the now, and how good it felt to lovingly hassle the shit out of her roommate. “That depends. Does he also do home improvements?”
“Possibly,” Sammy said sagely while grinning like a fool. “I mean, he really is good at nailing things.”