I inhale sharply at that, not in disgust…but need. Fuck, like I said, I’m messed up.
“I don’t fear what I am, but what I was...I fear that I don’t care. Does that make sense?”
I nod. “Of course, but fear has no place in our world. In private? Yes. But we are survivors, and right now we’re in a cell and we need to get out. Make them pay for what they have done. After…after we can worry about everything else.”
“Okay,” he replies calmly, lifting his head. I can see him now, how he will be, so strong with his head tilted back in defiance, blood in his wake as he walks through death and laughs. The image makes me shiver and clench my legs together. He reminds me very much of the films about Dracula I used to watch as a kid, so formidable, and the spiked head thing? Was he a rip-off or were they? Or maybe the stories of Vlad the Impaler are just a mixture of legends, I can’t be sure. Did they base those stories on the vampire before me? It makes me wonder how old he is and just how powerful he will be...
“For that, you need to feed,” I remind him. Deciding to circumvent his argument, I sharpen my nails and slash them across my wrist so blood wells. The ruby red is stark against my pale skin, and I watch him with mild interest as it drips down my arm, the cut deep and wide, and then I look up at the vampire to see him straining to get to me. That’s better.
“Feed,” I demand, and get to my feet. “I need you. Let me save you the way you saved me.”
I fly to my car, change back into my human form, and get back in, starting the engine and heading back the way I came—to the witches. I wonder what I will owe them now, but it is worth it to save my mate. I would do it and worse.
A buzzing comes and I realise my phone is ringing, so I snatch it from the passenger seat as it goes off, making me grumble. I spot the many notifications as it starts to ring, Jean Paul’s name coming up. I swipe to accept it.
“Hello?” I call, driving as I do.
I can hear him speaking in a tiny voice, so I glance down at the phone. “Fucking machines hate me. I can’t hear you, speak up!” I scream, and I hear miniature laughter. Pulling over, I put it to my ear to hear him still laughing.
“Sire, press the speaker button.” I move the phone away and examine it, pushing buttons while I swear until I finally hear him speaking loudly.
“Magic.” I sigh. “Jean Paul, is everything okay?”
“Yes, sire, I wanted to check on you. Have you found your mate?” he asks, and I sigh.
“Not yet, there are some complications, nothing I can’t handle. How is everything there?”
“All fine, sire…” He trails off, and I can hear something in his voice which makes me grip the wheel tighter.
“Jean Paul,” I command.
“I didn’t want to tell you...I have heard some rumours, a rumbling if you will,” he hedges and sighs. “There has been another dragon sighting, not far from the town you stopped in for the night.”
“You think he is coming for me?” I frown. Why would a dragon be here? We don’t leave the realm…well, they don’t.
“I don’t know, sire, I couldn’t say. He was last spotted there about fifty minutes from the boat you went to and hasn’t been seen since. Would you like me to send you the location?”
“Yes,” I reply distractedly.
“Very good. Good luck, sire, ring me if you need anything else.” I hang up and toss the phone away. A dragon here...now? It’s too big of a coincidence, it has to be for me. I can’t lead them to Dawn, so as much as I hate it, I will have to see what he wants before I find the sleeping council.
I pull back onto the road, rolling down my window and roaring at someone as they honk their horn and flip me off. They soon drive away, speeding no doubt. Sheep.
I restart my journey back to the witches. I will stop after and find the dragon. I just hope it doesn’t take too long and that my mate doesn’t need me in the meantime. I am feeling antsy to meet her in reality now.
I find their location with ease this time, not needing the little phone magician to direct me, thank God. It does take a few hours though, and when I step back onto the ship, I shiver at the feeling that passes over me. Something, or someone, is here. I debate waiting until they leave, but Dawn needs me, so I go inside anyway. Luckily, it leads me to where they are.
I stop when I see them. All three witches turn to face me, but that isn’t what makes my blood cold, it is the men...or more aptly ghosts, standing behind them.
Ghosts are usually sad, mopey bastards left in this world after a tragic death, or when someone still clings to the living, they stay here, stuck between worlds. Over time they seem to fade unless they feed on power, then they can even move objects and that’s how rumours of hauntings come around, some even possess people…but these? These don’t look like any ghosts I have ever seen. Of course I haven’t seen many, they are miserable bastards and keep mostly to their selves, but these men? These ghosts?
They are something different…I can sense their power, their age from here, and when their gazes focus on me, my dragon roars to the forefront of my mind to try and protect me from their unnaturalness. I can feel it now, the witches’ power flowing through them, keeping them here and strong and almost human.
If it wasn’t for the slightly grey pallor of their skin, and the mist seeming to surround them, I wouldn’t even know what they were. Loxley steps forward first. “Dragon, did we not give you what you seek?”
My eyes track the three male ghosts. One is really tall with a long, unkempt brown beard, bright green eyes, an old-style hat on his head, and a leather vest and jeans. He almost looks like a cowboy. The second is smaller and leaner, wearing what looks like a tux and a top hat, his lips curled up in a sneer, his eyes showing such rage and hate. The third? He appears normal, but his eyes…I shiver from the look, the intelligence, and just what I see there, as if I stare too long I might not come back out alive. He is wearing jeans and a shirt, and his brown hair is swept back to reveal a boyish face. He is almost unforgettable and disarming, but I know better.
Chloe is next, watching me closely. “Dragon, you seek something else now, something much more dangerous…”
“He does,” Mercy concludes. I watch the ghosts encircle them.
The cowboy stands with Mercy, the brown-haired, normal one with Chloe, and the sneering one with Loxley.
“We told you one day you would meet our men, but this is sooner than expected, yet you need them, don’t you?” Loxley inquires, her eyes far away as her hand goes out to stroke the man at her side, but he slaps it away and grabs her neck, dragging her closer. She sucks in a breath, wearing a grin on her face as he controls her movements.
“What does he seek, sisters?” Mercy whispers, coming to circle around me, her cowboy trailing after her. The cold gust of wind from him nearly knocks me back, so I snarl and he laughs, stepping away.
“I need the sleeping council’s location,” I declare, wanting to be gone from this place as quickly as I can. These men are not natural or sane, I can feel it. The hate they carry fuels them, yet the witches seem to thrive on it.
“That will cost you,” Chloe tells me, leaning against her man who wraps his arm around her, watching me closely.