Great! Just fucking awesome. The dragon king could not have designed his army any better, a big bunch of pack-like, immortal drones. He probably had mind control over us too. Although … it would explain why I’d been so drawn to the Vanguard prison, desperate to go back there to try to free those prisoners.
“We believe the king, when he rises, will be able to communicate with all of you at one time. Collectively.”
Braxton was grim faced, legs slightly apart and arms crossed over his chest. Listening and not happy. He wasn’t the only one. I was also feeling “not happy” right now with this entire bullshit endeavor.
“Lastly, you all possess the ability to call on the spirit of the dragon. Touch the power inside and a small facet of the king’s power will become yours. Senses heightened, strength heightened, speed heightened. Basically, you will mimic much of the ability a dragon possesses.”
I raised my hand but didn’t wait to be called on. “Have any marked ever like … shifted into a dragon?” It had to be asked, even though I was almost certain I was the special cupcake of the year.
The mystics observed me for a moment, almost as if they couldn’t believe anyone was questioning them during their “talking moment.” Get used to it.
Quale answered: “No, to our knowledge there have never been any to actually take the form of a dragon. As you probably know, there are no dragon shifters who are marked. They don’t need to be, they are already called to the king’s cause, and they have far greater skills and strength than the marked.”
I nodded a few times as if that was an awesome and legitimate answer. Meanwhile, on the inside I was having a mini freak-out. Definitely a special cupcake. Fuck a duck.
The mystic from before started talking again, shooting me a dirty glare. “As I was saying, these are the three traits present in all marked, no matter which of the races you fall under. We are here to cultivate these qualities so that when the king rises, you will not be taken by surprise.”
I raised my hand again, and with a sigh he quirked a single eyebrow at me. Which was quite a skill. “Why the hell are you helping the king? He’s evil and an asshole. One supernatural should not rule everything.”
I heard laughter, and a quick glance told me that I was amusing my parents, Louis, and Braxton.
The mystic walked toward me. So far he was the only one of them to break the line and move around. “What makes you think everything is so black and white? Good, evil, they are two sides of the same coin. How do you know the king was not trying to usurp a corrupt supernatural world? How do you know his intentions were not virtuous and honorable?”
Truth. He spoke in the certainty he believed, so it rang distinctly of truth.
He was about two feet from me, so I stalked myself closer, stopping when we were face to face. “It might be true that I don’t know the king’s intentions, but then neither do you. How do you know that by allowing the king to rise again, you’re not bringing about the destruction of the supernatural world?” I could feel the eyes of the other marked on me; they were listening closely. “We all know in the last thousand years nothing really terrible has happened within our prison communities. Sure, there were a few wars and battles, but mostly it has been peaceful. That is what we know. You, on the other hand, are simply guessing because you have never even met the king. All you have are your inherited memories and abilities as his council. You know nothing.”
Clapping broke the tension and drew all of our attentions. Louis was grinning lazily, applauding in slow motion. “You should listen to her, she speaks truth and reason. Something I think the mystics sorely lack.”
His laughing eyes flicked across to Quale, and I was pleased to see his brother simply flip him off. Uncharacteristic behavior for a member of this somber group, but it was a nice little insight into Quale’s developing relationship with the powerful sorcerer.
The mystic in front of me turned his back, dismissing my words in the only way he could, and moved back to join his lineup of grays.
He didn’t miss another beat, picking up the speech from where he’d been interrupted before. “We are here to strengthen your bond with each other and to learn how to call on the spirit of the dragon. Reach inside to the place of the mark. It should be easy to find, it is foreign to your other race energy. If you’re a vampire, it will exist near the home of your beast, but you will know it’s different. For the fey, your elemental powers are clear; you will find the marked energy nearby.”
It definitely did not feel that way for me. I had a wolf and a dragon chilling inside, creatures I could pretty much see with my mind’s eye. I could call on either of them if I wanted to – hopefully without the issues I had the last time I tried to connect to my fluffy beast – but there was no way I would shift into my dragon here. The mystics were already suspicious of me, I didn’t need any more supes to know about my unusual mark and abilities.
The reasonably well lit room started to sparkle, and I realized the supernaturals around me had called on their energy and were now surrounded by the same sort of ghost dragon I’d seen on Mischa. I wasn’t sure what to do. I searched around inside. My dragon flicked her tail at me; I could tell she wanted to know if I needed her. I gave her a mental pat with some of my energy and she was content to lie down again. But nope, there was no ghostly specter energy there for me to touch.
The delusional mystic who was doing all the talking was also apparently a smartass. “Having a problem?” His tone was all smug and mocking.