Rare Form: Descended of Dragons, Book 1 (16 page)

I took a deep breath that came back out in a shudder. The more he talked, the smaller I felt. It was as if the universe held me in its palm and I was a dust particle in its infinite hand. I saw my life becoming a study in procreation and genetic genesis.

Once again I began to question what exactly Gresham’s interest was in me.

“Stella, are you all right?” Gresham searched my gaze, which had narrowed at him amidst my suspicions.

I could only grunt in his direction.

At once, my addled brain pieced together what Gresham had been saying, a concept that was so foreign, the antithesis of what I knew to be true, that the two things were wholly incongruous.

“My god.” I sat down on the banquette, unable to stand a minute more. “Are you saying that my mother is…not just Thayerian, but Edina, the dragon from the massacre?”

My conscious mind was having a hard enough time accepting that I turned into a wolf, then a freaking dragon. My own mother was possibly the villain in a murderous fable? I closed my eyes, held onto the table, concentrating on breathing in and out through my mouth in an effort to avoid fainting.

“She must be,” Gresham said. “Besides adoption, there’s no other explanation.”

“Adoption,” I repeated blankly. “No. No. I wasn’t adopted. I know it.”

“I think it’s time you go back to your mother, Stella. Armed with this knowledge, she must understand you need information to protect yourself. If what we suspect is true, there’s much that only she knows.”

“You’re right. I have to know. I’ll go tomorrow.”

“Would you like me to come? Are you afraid of her?”

“Of my mother? No, Gresham. She’s harmless. Gentle. There’s no way she’s Edina. There must be another explanation, and this is a conversation best had alone.” The weight of the world seemed to set on my shoulders at that moment. “I’m tired, Gresham. I have a million questions, but I can hardly keep my eyes open. I wanna go to my room.”

“Of course,” he said, collecting my teacup and helping me up. He let his arms fall, but kept them around my waist. “I think you’re doing exceptionally well absorbing and dealing with this news.” His gaze once again held pride.

I smiled weakly and traced from his arms to my room at Sabre Hall.

I
woke with a start
, my unconscious brain having concluded that I didn’t know Boone and Timbra’s fate. Since I’d separated from them after the skinny dipping incident, which seemed like a lifetime ago, I had no idea if they’d gotten out of there. I remembered with revulsion the screams coming from the water, the square.

Ewan and I had gone toward the square. Ewan. If Timbra and Boone were okay, they certainly wouldn’t be after I shared the tragic news of his disappearance. We’d need to organize a search. Was it even safe for me to go out there? Any of us? Safe or not, I knew we’d do it to find him.

Still clad in Gresham’s shirt, I drug my feet into Timbra’s room through our adjoining bathroom.

A sharp gasp and an emphatic “Oh, shit” alerted me to the room’s occupation. Two naked bodies snatched at sheets and blankets to cover themselves though, really, I had already seen it all. The speed of sight beats reaction time without fail. Unfortunately.

“Stella, thank the gods,” Timbra nearly laughed with relief while holding a sheet close to her chest.

“Ahhh. I’m so sorry,” I sputtered. “I came to check that you were safe after last night. I didn’t…I didn’t know. I’ll let you two get dressed.”

“No. Stay.”

At this, Boone whipped his head around to determine her meaning.

“Well, I didn’t mean
stay
, obviously. Just….okay,” she conceded. “We’ll hurry and dress, but don’t leave your room. Ewan said you were separated in the woods and he was worried sick you’d been eaten by the dragon that chased you. I want to hear…”

I cut her off. “Ewan? Ewan’s
alive
?”

“Of course. What did you think? When everyone discovered what was happening in the square, they traced back to The Root and its impenetrable wards. We all met back up here at Sabre to wait out the attack.”

“Uh, ladies?” This from Boone.

“Just a minute.” I looked back to Timbra. “So when Ewan disappeared in the woods, he traced back here and you guys, what, hung at the bar all night?”

“Basically, yeah. Why didn’t you just trace? Congrats on finding your she-wolf, by the way.”

“Guys?” Boone again.

“Thanks. Why didn’t I trace?” I trailed off. “Why
didn’t
I trace? It never once entered my mind.”

I stood in stunned silence, contemplating my idiocy until Boone cleared his throat loudly.

“Hmm?” I said absently.

“Still naked here.”

And so he was. I backed through the door from which I had come, and walked back to my bed.

Tracing
, I thought.
Of course
’

Surely Ewan discovered that I hadn’t traced back to Radix, and came to the bridge to save me. With both of us in wolf form, communicating ‘Damn, Stella, trace already’ would have been difficult. I was grateful to Ewan for putting his life at risk for mine, but I was also a little peeved that he’d traced back to The Root, effectively abandoning me to my fate against a dragon.

I
took a really long shower
, which is where I do my best thinking. While shaving my legs I came to terms as best I could with the fact I was now Triple Threat Stella Stonewall: one part brainy redhead, one part vicious red wolf, and one part fire breathing dragon. No big.

Honestly, I was just pleased I’d finally found my form. Okay, so I had two and that was apparently pretty uncommon. Then again, I had never been normal, so nothing new there.

And, okay, so there was an evil sorcerer out to get me because I was a freak of even Thayerian nature. But as long as I stayed inside the boundaries of The Root, I was safe. That was something at least.

I thought I would probably keep the whole
triple threat
thing to myself for a while. No one had seen my dragon besides Gresham. Well, and the attack dragon. Shit. And speaking of attack dragons, I wondered where those had come from if all but my mother had been exterminated hundreds of years ago. Even Gresham didn’t know that.

My own problems shelved for the moment, my mind wandered to Boone and Timbra. How did that happen? I couldn’t wait to tease Ms. ‘What’s The Point Unless We Have a Future.’ For all her prudish grandstanding, she sure didn’t waste any time getting busy like the rest of us.

Rest of
us,
hell. Aside from a little flirting with Gresham and Ewan’s kiss, I was the only one suffering through celibacy.

I
knocked tentatively
on the dark green door of the simple brick house. I don’t know why. I couldn’t think of another time…ever…that I had knocked at my own front door. Maybe because I was supposed to be in South Africa. More likely it was because I’d use any excuse to delay this conversation even for a few moments.

I pulled at the dead fronds on a neglected fern as I waited for my mother to answer the door.

I saw her magnified green eye through the peephole, then she opened the door with a flourish.

“Stella, baby. What’re you doing here?”

“Oh, just a surprise visit, Mom.” I tried to smile, but only succeeded in pulling my lips back in a weird grimace.

“From South Africa?” she breathed, and threw both arms around my neck. She smelled of the subtle moisturizer she applied each morning. I’d forgotten how much taller I was. She was so petite, so delicate. “I thought you couldn’t come until the end of the year. But I’m so glad you’re here. Come in, come in. Where are your things?” She poked her head out the door and looked around for a car. “How did you get here?”

Ignoring her questions, I made my way inside to the kitchen and found my usual seat at the breakfast bar.

She stood with a hip against the old ceramic sink and looked at me expectantly. “So, tell me everything.”

I couldn’t meet her gaze. I focused on a scratch on the Formica counter and blurted before I lost my nerve, “I haven’t been in South Africa, Mom. I traced here. From Thayer.”

I did look at her then. I didn’t want to miss the widening of her eyes in surprise, no matter how subtle. She was good. If I hadn’t been looking for an indication of her recognition, I would’ve missed it.

“I can see that you know what I’m talking about, Mother. It’s time you told me the truth.”

All the color left her face and she went ashen with shock. She opened her mouth to speak, closed it, opened it again, and collapsed to the floor, her eyes rolling back in her head as she went unconscious.

I rushed to her side and cradled her head in my lap.

“Mom. Mom, wake up!” I patted her face gently at first and then harder. I shook her shoulders and pulled strands of dull red hair from her face. What had I done? I should have known she couldn’t handle such a shock. I knew she generally only held on by a thread. My stomach roiled with guilt at my abrupt and ruthless questioning.

Her head and hands began to move, and after a few tense moments she came to. She was groggy, but met my gaze and then, maybe recalling the revelation I’d just made, she closed her eyes again and exhaled shakily. I helped her sit upright and we both sat there in silence for several moments. I was giving her time to recover before I pursued the topic again, and she, I assumed, was determining how much to tell me. Finally she rose to her feet and grasped the counter, as if it was the only thing keeping her upright.

“Mom,” I began but she stopped me.

“Stella, I can’t,” she whispered. “I just can’t re-open those old wounds without bleeding out entirely. I fought so hard for so long to put the horror, the tragedy, the guilt behind me.”

“I know, Mom, and I’m sorry.” My lips quivered with emotion at her admission. I sniffed, steeled myself, and pushed ahead. There’s so much I need to know. I turned into a dragon, Mom. And a wolf! I need help understanding all of this…I need to know who I am. Why won’t you help me?”

“I’m sorry I’m not stronger for you.”

“Don’t say that; just
be
stronger,” I said, beginning to lose my temper. “All I’m asking is for a conversation about my father, about your lineage, about my own. I need to know this. We don’t have to discuss your imprisonment.”

She began to cry, but I wouldn’t let her tears deter me this time. She covered her face with her hands and shook her head over and over. I could no longer see her eyes, but her stooped posture told me she was so upset that she was near grieving. I pushed anyway.

“It’s like you’re abandoning me and forcing me to fend for myself when I don’t even have to. Ignoring this won’t make it go away, Mother. You’re being…you’re being obtuse. Worse, you’re being a shitty mother.”

I was angry. I knew better than to berate her like that. She was so fragile, so emotionally unstable. But to continue to refuse me information was akin to risking my life.

She removed her hands and looked at me, her pale face stricken at my words and streaked with tears and ruined makeup.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t have said that. I just don’t understand why you won’t help me.

She turned her head and closed her eyes. Her lips trembled, and the rest of her body shuddered, too.

I gritted my teeth and stormed into my room before I said something even more hurtful, slamming the door shut behind me. I sat in my desk chair and shook my head over and again, infuriated and beyond baffled at her continued obstinance.

I took in the little treasures and trophies that littered my room. My normal life, activities like softball and the weekend theater had once meant so much to me. Now I had left them all behind. I felt sad at the thought of abandoning everything I’d known, but wasn’t regretful. I was happy to have found my new life, these new parts of myself. Navigating Thayer alone had been difficult and clumsy, but I had done it. If my mother wouldn’t, or couldn’t, talk about it, then I ‘d have to live with it for now. I resolved to continue down the overgrown path that I’d begun clearing one machete swipe at a time. I rose, intending to tell Mom that she needn’t worry about more questions from me.

“Mom?” I called out. No sign of her in the kitchen.

“Mom?” I checked the living room and the hall bathroom, but she was neither place. More troubling, she wasn’t answering me.

“Mom?”

I pushed open the door to her bedroom. She wasn’t there. I noticed that, as usual, her bed was meticulously made; hospital corners snapped and tucked tight.

I searched the entire house, but she was nowhere to be found. I called outside, and she didn’t answer; she never returned.

Eventually I went back into her bedroom to she’d packed a bag; if she planned to come back anytime soon. I opened the drawers of her dresser and found everything as it always had been—folded neatly and stored with a bewildering attention to detail.

Confused, angry, and very much afraid, I slammed the dresser drawer shut, rocking the furniture. As I did, an envelope I hadn’t seen before fell from its propped position against the mirror. I found my name scrawled hastily across the front. Inside was a short, hand-written note.

Gone. My mother was gone.