Chapter 26

“Come with us,” Dr. Radcliffe says.

Tanis and I follow him away from the dim light cast by the LED. I glance over my shoulder at my squad, the dragons, and those three other teenagers who aren’t my friends. Tatsuo paces in front of my peers, who are clustered together. Ion and Mauve are emptying paper bags from the back of the SUV. They place the bags on the concrete floor at the edge of the illumination provided by the single bulb.

“Clay,” Tanis says.

“You bought clay?” I ask. A dozen or so paper bags are arrayed on the floor. “Why so much?”

Dr. Radcliffe chuckles. “All in good time, Allison. You do not expect us to reveal all our secrets at once, do you?”

I look at Tanis, who only gives me a sly smile.

“Who are you? What are you? Why can I see you as shimmering apparitions while the others can’t? Why me?”

We come to a halt halfway between the center of the warehouse and the back wall. I suppose for someone with regular eyes it would be a murky gloom, but between the light given off by the translucent dragons and the night vision capabilities of my prosthetics, I might as well be out in the midday sun.

“We spoke about your disturbing ability to see us while we ride the slipstream,” Dr. Radcliffe says. “We have a plausible if improbable explanation.”

“More of a theory,” Tanis says.

“Are you going to tell me or not? You’ve kidnapped us and threatened our lives. I think I deserve an explanation of why this is happening.”

Tanis stiffens. Dr. Radcliffe smiles avuncularly.

“We believe it is an unexpected outcome of your prosthetic eyes and skaag blood. It is something we do not understand. The human eye cannot penetrate the slipstream, and neither can a skaag’s. Ordinarily, human devices, even a highly sensitive scientific apparatus, cannot penetrate the slipstream. You, however, can see us. You could not see us, I assume, prior to having your prosthetic eyes?”

“You’ve been a dragon forever, right? Like at the faculty gathering last September, were you? A dragon, I mean.”

Dr. Radcliffe nods.

“I couldn’t see you then.”

“We do not like having our true nature revealed to an outsider,” Dr. Radcliffe says. “Our enemies hunt us even now as they have for hundreds of years. They will kill us without hesitation.”

“What’s that have to do with me?”

“You’re part human and part skaag,” Tanis says. “Humans and skaags shouldn’t be capable of interbreeding.”

“Yet here you are,” Dr. Radcliffe says.

I remember the ghostly visitation I experienced at the hospital. The sense that whoever or whatever intruded upon my rest woke something alien hidden deep inside me. Then came insatiable hunger for meat and the fury that somehow never seemed entirely my own. Earlier this evening my body healed itself with remarkable speed, and for a fleeting time I possessed immense physical prowess. Somewhere in my core, the sleeper stirs, rattling its cage.

“You feel it, don’t you?” Tanis says and takes my hand in both of hers. Her hands are warm, almost hot. “The wound is gone. Preternatural healing is a skaag trait.” She rubs my palm with her thumbs. “The skaag in you is fighting to emerge. It’s kept in check by powerful magic.”

“How do you know?” I demand. I don’t want to be a monster. I don’t want to be me either, the half-Asian girl abandoned by her mother and the butt of every joke and offhand remark of the popular girls. I don’t want to be the girl who pines after a boy only to lose him to a racist. I don’t want to be me, but that doesn’t mean I want to be a monster. How can I even be one? My dad is just a college professor, an ordinary guy.

My gaze darts to Dr. Radcliffe. No, Dad is not like him. He’s not a monster. Never. I know him, and I’d know if he is a skaag. I would. I can’t say that about my mother. I don’t have a single memory of her. She’s always been the mysterious woman who abandoned me long ago while I was a helpless infant. No, that’s not possible. That’s asylum-level insanity. There’s no way my mother is a skaag. I’m not buying what these dragons are selling. No way.

I bite down on my lower lip, remembering that astral presence that claimed me as its daughter at the hospital. No. That had to be a dream, didn’t it? Maybe? Then again, not that long ago I consigned dragons to fairy tales.

“Are skaags like you? Do they look human?” I ask.

“They can look human, but they are not like us. They are shapeshifters, able to alter their appearance to look like your kind,” Tanis says.

My lips tremble. Maybe my mother had a good reason to abandon my father and me. Maybe she never expected to become pregnant.

“Is my mother…” I whisper, then shake my head. “No, I’m jumping to conclusions.”

Inside me the sleeper stirs and, with the stirring, the certainty that my mother is indeed a skaag. I fear I might weep in front of Tanis and Dr. Radcliffe. I want to be impervious to the emotions bubbling inside me, but I feel like I’m tumbling down an abyss. It’s a helpless feeling, like your feet have slipped out from under you, and there’s nothing you can do to stop your fall.

“When I tasted your blood,” Tanis says, “I detected three things. Human blood, skaag blood, and magic, thick and strong. A powerful sorcerer doesn’t want you or the world to know you’re a skaag.”

“My mother. She is a skaag,” I say, knowing from the sleeper that there is truth to my words. “She worked the magic to protect me.”

“Possibly,” Dr. Radcliffe says, nodding. “Your father is not a skaag. His smell would have given him away long ago. He likely never suspected your mother was anything other than human. Of course, with magic at play there are other possibilities.”

“Other possibilities?” I ask.

“The man you consider your father might not be your biological father,” Tanis says with uncharacteristic gentleness.

“No.” I shake my head. “He’s my father.”

“Magic can alter human perception,” Dr. Radcliffe says.

“He’s my dad. You’ll never convince me otherwise. I…I need time to process this.”

I try to pull away from Tanis, but her hands clench mine with a force that belies her aged appearance.

I wince. “Let go. You’re hurting me.”

Tanis releases me, and I back away, opening and closing my aching hand. I want to flee. I don’t want to be a monster. I want to be anywhere other than here with these dragons and their problems. If the rage inside me wakes and fills me with physical power, I can escape. Jason’s car is still parked behind the warehouse with the keys in the ignition. A burst of incredible speed, and I will be through the door before they can stop me. I’ve never driven in the snow. I’ve never even driven without my dad. But I can’t let that stop me.

I glance back at Dalia and Haji, who huddle together so close their shoulders touch. My chest aches.

“You need not worry,” Dr. Radcliffe says. “As long as you cooperate, your friends are safe.”

I face him. “Why should I trust you?”

“It would be an easy thing for me to allow Ion to kill all of you,” Dr. Radcliffe says with a bemused smile. “If I give the word, she will eat you. Flesh and bones and clothes. No one will ever know what happened to you. As near perfect a crime as possible.”

“Why don’t you do that then? Why all the threats?”

Dr. Radcliffe raises an eyebrow and glances at Tanis then back to me. “I thought it would be evident why we have not killed you. Despite your reaction when you see us pass out of the slipstream into this world, we are not monsters. We are civilized. More civilized than humans. Humans are on the cusp of disaster. Consider the greatest existential crisis humanity faces. Anthropomorphic climate change. Humans are destroying this planet’s ability to support life. It is a scientific fact, yet some politicians claim that it is a hoax. My people faced similar circumstances millennia ago and overcame the challenges. We adapted by learning to live in harmony with nature instead of attempting to conquer it at every turn. For that, we reaped the rewards. Our civilization spans planets, stars, dimensions. We do not destroy life without cause. You must forgive Ion. She is young and afraid and a soldier. It is in her nature to deal with problems by crushing them. She killed dozens of skaags before fleeing to Earth.”

Dr. Radcliffe continues speaking, but his words smear. Deep inside me, the sleeper wakes and throws itself against the bars of its cell. The cage rattles. The bars bulge but do not break. Its strength flows into me as a trickling stream that builds into roaring rapids.

Tanis says something to Dr. Radcliffe. She backs away from me, and Dr. Radcliffe marches toward me. His looming golden draconic form follows him, fading in and out of existence. Animalistic fear seizes me as his dragon form nears, yet the fear is tempered by something out of place—confidence. Confidence that I can match the dragon in combat.

I retreat, but Dr. Radcliffe snatches me and pulls me around in front of him to face Tanis. He is behind me now, his hands clamped down on my upper arms. The old woman stares impassively at me as the air around her crackles. An electrical arc sizzles from the crown of her head to zap the ceiling. More arcs emanate from her body. My skin tingles as her dragon form shimmers into existence.

The white beast stretches its neck toward the ceiling, joints crackling like popcorn. A clawed hand lifts the humanoid Tanis, who is stiff as a granite statue, off the ground and sets her aside out of the way. The dragon turns her large, pale pink eyes on me. The sleeper throws its writhing black body against the cage. The bars clatter and buckle. I tremble. I convulse. Only Dr. Radcliffe’s strong hands keep me upright.

My lips curl into a snarl, and I battle against his indomitable grip. His long fingers cut into my skin like steel manacles, yet I fight against him, spurred on by the torrent of fear and hatred and hunger gushing from the sleeper.

I throw my head back like a wrecking ball, clipping the bottom of his chin. He grunts and stumbles. The sleeper hurls itself against the cage. Metal strains and squeals and cracks. A thick, black, serpentine body squirms between the bars. The bars burst from the stress. I gasp, my eyes going wide. A jolt of physical prowess with the kick of gallons of adrenaline surges through me. I lift my right foot and slam my heel into Dr. Radcliffe’s ankle. His joint pops. Pain shoots up my leg, but it’s mere diagnostic feedback.

Dr. Radcliffe grunts and wobbles. I wrench my right arm free, then my left. Fingers brush against me, then fall away. I’m ready to run, but the ancient white dragon blocks my way. She might be smaller than Dr. Radcliffe and Tatsuo, but she is still bigger than an elephant. Her pink leathery wings are outstretched, reaching either wall of the warehouse. I spin around just as more electrical sizzling fills the air. Lightning flashes in my peripheral vision. Electricity arcs. A golden hand slaps me, rattling every bone in my body. I strike the ground, and my breath whooshes out of me. I scramble, but Dr. Radcliffe’s scaled hand pins me to the floor.

I struggle against clawed fingers as thick as tree trunks. I growl in frustration. I should be able to escape. I should. The sleeper can overcome these monsters. It’s why I was made with the desire and attributes to slay dragons. Only something is wrong. The sleeper is out of the cage, but it is still trapped, held in check by an invisible, unconquerable force. The sleeper shrieks, and I scream. The sleeper throws itself against the translucent netting entangling it, and I writhe.

Dr. Radcliffe’s massive head fills my vision, golden lips curling up to reveal fangs the length of short swords. His hot breath stinks of sulfur, and wisps of black smoke curl between his teeth. His mouth expands into a gaping chasm with bright flames burning in its depths. Writhing, I flail my arms against his golden scales. My hands come away bloody as the scales rip my skin and the fabric of my coat.

Still pinning me to the floor, Dr. Radcliffe withdraws his head, giving Tanis space to move her bulk over me. She holds a claw coated in steaming purple ichor above my chest. The hand holding me shifts, grip loosening. I wiggle my torso and shuffle my feet, winning free but only for a moment. The hand tightens around my waist. At the same time, the ichor-stained claw inches toward my chest.

The sleeper shrieks, and I scream. “No!”

The purple claw pierces my clothes and pricks my skin. Flames burn through my body. The invisible netting melts, freeing the sleeper. With sickening squelching and loud cracks, bones break and burst from my skin in a red torrent. Organs rend and reshape like works from the imagination of a mad origamist. There is no pain, only a sense of movement. Then agony explodes, expanding like a supernova. A blood river floods my vision, transforming into a pulsating white that withers to black.