Page 133 of Shattered Stars
The human magicals chatter together in excitement and the dragon flaps its gigantic wings, cracking the night’s air. We soar faster through the sky, the other dragons by our side, flying in a formation.
Do the humans know we are coming? Are they prepared?
As we fly closer, the formation breaks. Most of the reptiles soar away to the city. The one I am riding veers to the east with five others and we sail over countryside, the scent of it familiar, and then a hill appears, a great house perched on its peak.
I recognize it. The boy called this place home for many years. It is also where the girl should be.
I inhale, sure I can already smell her familiar scent even over this distance. We will find her. We will keep her safe. I will rip the throat out of this great creature with my teeth if I have to.
The night is eerily silent, cold air rushing through my fur, the pound of the reptiles’ cold hearts and the crack of their wings the only noise. Then music, as we soar closer, music and then the lead dragon crashes down onto the roof of the school, smashing its snout and it claws through the turreted roof, until there’s nothing of it left but a gaping great hole.
The beast I cling to swoops over the building and below I see the faces of a hundred young human magicals.
And her. Her eyes golden in the darkness, calling to me.
I pull back my claws, release my arms and fall. Through the sky, through the night, into the scattering students below me, my body twisting and contorting as I do, returning to his form, his body.
He needs to find the girl and together we will protect her.
50
Renzo
The truck speedsalong the country roads, dim beams illuminating the ghostly trees and spindly bushes. I bounce on my seat, Marcus beside me, behind us ten other trucks. All full of soldiers like this one.
He won’t tell me where we’re going. But I ask again just for the hell of it.
“You don’t need to know. Just be prepared for one hell of a fight when we get there,” he says, grinning at me.
“Might help me with the fighting if I knew the details, if I knewwhowe were fighting,” I say, fidgeting in my seat. We’ve been driving straight for two hours. My legs need to move. My muscles are twitching. I rub at my chin, at my chest, slide my hands down my thighs.
I’ve never been able to sit quietly. My mom tied me to my chair once, screaming at me to keep the fuck still. Couldn’t do it then. Can’t do it now.
“You’ve never cared about the details before, Renzo,” Marcus says, eyes narrowing.
“Maybe I’m getting more discerning in my old age.” I flick lint off my leg.
I’m fucking 26 next year. It’s hilarious. I never expected to make it past 20. I don’t think anyone thought I would.
Just goes to show I’m good at my job. Nah, maybe it’s not that. Maybe I’m good at surviving. Good at something anyway.
I peer back at the soldiers lined up on two benches either side of the truck. Some of the men are Marcus’s, the inks on their arms and their necks making that damn obvious. The others are from the West. My eyes flicker back to Marcus. What the fuck is the crazy motherfucker up to? And is it going to get us killed?
I remember what it was like as a kid. My mom with her ear glued to the radio, puffing on cigarette after cigarette. Some dude with a plum in his mouth reporting of attacks and battles, people dying, of dark forces. Somewhere distant. Just words.
I close my eyes, my body jolting around by the stupid truck and its fucked-up suspension.
Do I care if I die? It never bothered me before. Live. Die. LiveDie. DieLive. Never gave a fuck. Probably why I’m still here, lungs expanding, heart pumping. If you hang on to something too desperately, like your life for example, it’s usually the first thing you end up losing.
I think of my little rabbit. And something behind my ribs aches. I look down at my chest. I’m wearing an old leather jacket. It’s my favorite. Took it from the body of the very first man I killed. Still makes me shiver every time I slide my arms inside the sleeves and shake the thing up onto my shoulders, even though it’s been a long time since it smelled of him. It stinks of me now. Wonder if my little rabbit would wear it. I like the idea of her all wrapped up in my scent, unable to stop thinking about me, like I can’t stop thinking about her.
I shake my head. Marcus eyes me through the darkness.
“Brother,” he says, and it’s been many years since he called me that. Are we? Not by blood, but they say there are other kinds of family. He was the one who saved me – a half starved kid, scrapping to survive. The one who took me in. “Don’t do anything stupid tonight,” he growls near my ear.
My eyes snap open. “Me?”
He didn’t want to bring me. Which made me all the more determined to come. Okay, so I don’t ask about all his plans, but he’s never been so reluctant to tell me either. I don’t like it. And so that’s why I’m here.
