“It is Amos,” he repeats with a frown, clutching his cane harder like he’s imagining smacking me with it. “But yes, I suppose I owe you somewhat of an explanation. First, Dawn, how did you become a skinwalker?”
I debate my options, but I honestly don’t really know much, so I don’t see the harm in telling him. “I was murdered and buried, I was on death’s door when I...just didn’t die. I woke up and crawled from the grave and became what I am now.”
“The thing is, Dawn, our bloodlines are weakening. Each time another is born, their blood is diluted from interhuman breeding and supernaturals losing their powers. Humans are becoming the dominant species with the original gods gone, while more and more are born with latent blood running through their veins...waiting to be activated. Essentially, we are speaking of a whole army’s worth of supernaturals trapped in a sheep’s body. I think that happened to you.”
I grit my teeth as he carries on, what a prick.
“When you woke in the ground, so close to death, you had a choice. Yes, I see it in your eyes, you remember the moment. You chose life, you chose to keep fighting, and in doing so your body changed to keep you alive, your very cells evolving until you became what you are now. But those awakened do not always have the traditional blood of their ancestors, they are adapting. Whether it be the environment or human blood, some are stronger, their powers untold...like you.”
I do remember the moment he’s talking about, where I chose rage instead of peace. I chose to come back for revenge, to hurt those who hurt me. It was then the pain started and I changed—he’s right.
“And others?”
“Others are subspecies, not human and not enough to be one of us. Abominations.”
I snort. “Wow, monsters snubbing other monsters, and here I thought only humans were such assholes.”
“Whether you like it or not, Dawn, we are evolving, we must keep the lines as pure as we can.”
I lean forward. “That’s not all, is it? To me it sounds like a last-ditch effort. You said your numbers are dwindling, the humans are dominant, and I don’t think you like that. I believe you are trying to build an army…but for what? To take over? To make those you deem worthy in charge again? It would be chaos, humans will always come out on top. We are better off sticking to the shadows, we are monsters, after all.”
He sighs. “I can see you don’t understand yet, you will, maybe with a bit of effort and pain, you will see what we are trying to do is for the best of us all.” He stands, still clutching his cane.
“Doubt it, but please try. I do enjoy a bit of torture, really gets my blood going if you know what I mean.” I wink and he turns away, then he stops before Veyo.
“Break her, I want her obedient, I have plans for her,” he instructs, and sweeps from the room.
Veyo calls out, and guards with the glowing medallions—witch magic—step into the room. Getting to my feet, I crack my neck and let my monster out to play—my eyes bleeding black, my claws extending, and strength surging through me. It comes easier and easier each time. He was an asshole, but he’s right, we are changing. I’m becoming...more than just a skinwalker. I can feel it, the power growing within, wrapping me in its arms...the question is, what will I become and what are his plans for me?
I have a feeling Veyo doesn’t want to share that kind of information, even if he knew. No, he was ordered to break me, and he will try.
I will kill them, rip their faces from their bodies and wear them as I laugh. “Come on, boys, let’s play.”
Veyo nods and they rush me in a wave. They are stronger than humans, the magic of the witches running through them, making them almost as strong as me. Almost.
I throw myself at them, taking them down. I rip out one’s throat with my nails. I take the other’s own energy weapon from him and use my strength to stab it into his chest. He jolts and shakes with a scream as he’s locked in an endless cycle of electrocution.
Someone smashes theirs into my back, and I lurch before spinning with a howl and gutting them. More and more come at me, and I fight and slash, taking down as many as I can. I know I won’t win, but I don’t give a fuck. I’m going to hurt them, show them they might be able to subdue me, but they will never break me.
Tim couldn’t.
Death couldn’t.
These magicked up bitches can’t.
They start to overpower me and I end up on the floor, still hacking and kicking, but soon I have to curl up to protect myself, their boots and magic too much. Veyo cackles and I glare. Fuck these pricks and their agenda.
Refusing to let them see me hurt, I laugh, spitting my blood in their faces as they rain down punches and kicks on my curled up body. I continue to laugh until a boot slams down on my head, knocking me out.
“See you soon, dragon.” Nos shakes my hand and I return the gesture. Maybe they aren’t so bad after all, they do seem to love Dawn, that we can agree on at least.
“Try not to die before you bring us that council, dickhead,” Griffin orders, and I snort at him, sweeping my leg out to kick his sofa on purpose as I turn. I hear him swear, making me smirk as I head outside and straight into the road that leads to the forest behind his house. I follow his directions so I can find a secluded place to change and return to my car. I need information. I have to go back to the witches and pay yet again. I wonder what they will ask for this time.
I will pay it, they can have all my gold and treasure if it means keeping my mate safe. I refuse to consider what is happening to her right now, I can’t without losing it. I will, however, try to contact her tonight through our link before I leave the witches’ safety net. Even if it’s just for a moment to see for myself that she is okay.
I head to the very edge of the street and walk until I find a cove of trees. Stepping inside, I make a nest out of leaves and fallen branches and settle to try and contact her. It’s dangerous out in the open, but I have to try.
Animals still, sensing me nearby. The forest smells crisp and of magic, old magic, undoubtedly from the forest god my mate has claimed. This is his land, after all, and I can sense the fae here and there as well, and a recent trail to the left of me a couple of miles away. I map the land in my head, letting my dragon out to see and sense any threats. When we find nothing, I settle back down again and try to force myself to relax.
The branches crack with each shift of my body, and I wish I could make an actual nest. My dragon is restless, and just when I am about to give up, I finally slip into a troubled slumber, my soul reaching across the miles between us, searching for her…
“Dawn?” I call out, my voice loud and echoing.
We are back at the lake of my homeland, the one I often escaped to when I thought about the heavy weight of leadership and my need to break free from traditions and my own people. Everything is hazy, white, and too perfect to be real, but the trees are the same.
The identical rock where I used to lay after flying, dipping, and diving in the water is situated where it should be. I used to leap off the cliff over there when I was just five until I could do it myself. It was tradition. No one could be a dragon who couldn’t fly—it should be instinctive, they said. So they threw their children off cliffs and hoped for the best, but I didn’t wait for that to happen. I did it alone. They called me fearless even back then. My wings sprouted on the first go, but they were too big for me and I crashed into the water.