Today, I am once again part of The Infinite Bard, a weekly free short story group. You can head here to check out all the past stories – we’ve just eclipsed FIFTY, so there’s plenty of free reading there for you should you so desire đ The stories come out on Wednesday every week (US time) and span the whole range of genres. Much fun!
Today I’m actually giving you TWO short stories, because they are both very short so I thought it’d be better value for your time if you got two đ This pair of stories appears in my collection It All Changes Now, a collection of flash fiction written September/October of 2020. Blood Dragon and Dragon Theft introduce a new story world I’m playing in (ish; spoilers there though) that I’m currently calling The Fey Wars. It seems set to be a big, sprawling urban fantasy with multiple POV characters and politics and factions and generally speaking the Fey are at war with humanity over ownership of their magical dragons, semi-sentient creatures that live in the skin of other living beings and bear/wield huge magical power.
This pair of stories are just a tiny taste of the world, and in fact they are the very first two things I wrote in this universe. If you enjoy it, there are also two more stories set in this world in It All Changes Now, one of which continues on from Dragon Theft (though from the POV of another character).
Enjoy!
BLOOD DRAGON
The iridescent green dragon tattoo on the manâs bicep bared its teeth, and the teeth glinted under the black lights of the club. The pounding rhythm of the bassline drilled into Anyaâs skull, and the stink of weed and sweaty bodies writhing against each other made it hard to think. But, gaze locked on the dragonâs, Anya wove through the crowd anyway, determined not to let it get away again.
At the far edge of the dance floor, the manâmuscled in a long, lean kind of way, mid-brown hair, eyes probably dark as sin in his tanned face, though it was impossible to really tell in this lightâturned, winked, and vanished through a doorway he shouldnât have been able to walk through.
Anya ground her teeth and swore loud enough that the precious blonde girl to the right with the pigtails raised her eyebrows. Anya flipped her off and headed for the doorway.
Only it wasnât a doorway anymore, it was a door. A fairly standard door, matte black like the rest of the clubâs wallsâand it wouldnât budge.
Anya swore again and ground her teeth. She tasted bloodâand stilled.
Right. Blood.
The grin she gave was sharp-toothed enough to scare away the handsome little boyâmaybe twenty, twenty-twoâwho was trying to catch her attention on the edge of the dance floor.
Good riddance.
Anya closed her eyes, concentrated on the sweet taste of blood on her tongue, and let her mental defences fall.
The club screamed around her, the thoughts and desires and hungers of a hundred sweaty, unprotected minds rubbing against her in raw agony.
She ground her teeth harder; she only had to bear it for a few minutes, then it would be all over and she could raise her mental shields again.
Somewhere in something that felt like the far distance, but which was probably only just outside the front of the club, in the dim stairwell that led to the night-blanketed street, something green sparkled.
Here, little dragon, Anya crooned. Come taste my blood. Mmm, tasty blood.
She rolled her tongue around again, trying to saturate her awareness with the metallic tang.
Something in the distance, or else quite close by, perked up its interest.
Yes, yummy blood. He wonât give you blood. He doesnât know how to feed you. He doesnât know that you need blood to survive. And he wonât listen to you, he doesnât know how. Go on. Try asking him for blood.
A silence, filled with the screeching, scraping cacophony of unprotected minds and heavy bass lines and the smell of weed and sweat.
No, no. Blood. Only blood.
A flare of hunger in the darkness.
Anya smiled. See? He doesnât know how to listen to you. Come. Come back, and Iâll feed you.
Her heart pounded at the prospect, but it was a small price to pay to secure the dragon again.
Another split-instant pause, and then something roared in the darkness behind her eyes.
Anya jerked as something hit her with the force of a freight train. She stumbled, reeled, fought back a scream as something tore through the skin on her bicep and shoulder, like a hundred thick needles piercing every pore.
Breathing heavily, she propped herself against the wall by the new door and stared blindly out at the writhing crowd as they danced in the flashing lights.
Blood, blood, blood.
Yes, Anya replied wryly, glancing down to see the dragon spiralling and twining round and round and round her shoulder and upper arm in ecstasy under the surface of her skin. Blood. Alright, thatâs enough, she said, and bopped the glittering green dragon on the nose.
Blood, it sighed wistfully. But it stopped.
Gradually, the pain in Anyaâs arm dimmed to an ember glow.
She inhaled deeply, exhaled through pursed lips, glanced at the door. The door was going to be a problem.
But it was a problem for later. Right now, she had to get this bloody dragon back behind locked bars.
DRAGON THEFT
In the smoky darkness of the clubâs secluded corridors, Akash stared at the glimmering, writhing dragon. Through the dark, inch-thick iron bars in the dim mood lighting, the three-foot-long scaled beast was barely more than a few flashes of emerald green and the glint of a golden eye.
Akashâs pulse pounded wildly nonetheless, his hands sweating inside his thin leather gloves.
Two minutes. Two minutes to pick the lock, bond the dragon, and get out.
The steady rhythm of the baseline from the clubâs dance hall thrummed through the walls, the black matte paint soaking up the gold light from the naked bulbs overhead. He couldnât be sure heâd hear footsteps if someone approached.
Teeth clenched, jaw twitching, Akash twiddled the lock on the cage.
The dragon hissed.
âShut up,â Akash murmured, glancing over his shoulder. He wasnât the only one here to steal a dragon tonightâjust the only one whoâd be successful, because Daniel was an arrogant idiot, and that vanilla mortal whoâd broken in not five minutes in front of him was, well, a plain vanilla mortal, who obviously didnât know that the dragon would kill him as soon as breathe the second it got hungry.
The pin he was using to pick the lock snapped. Akash swore.
Sweat trickled down behind his ear as he stared at the snapped pin, wreathed in shadows.
Dark night. Now what was he going to do?
The dragon hissed again, smooching itself against the bars like a cat, scales glittering, glimmering, flashing and flickering.
All he needed was a second of skin contact.
Could he risk it? Could he do it, forcing his hand between the iron bars and holding it there long enough for the dragon to feed?
He shuddered at the mere thought of iron against his skin, burning, blisteringâŚ
The dragon hissed softly, a sound almost like speech.
And Akash straightened. Yes. Yes, to fetch back one of the Caged, he could do it.
He peeled the glove off, one finger at a time. Inhaled. Hesitated for a brief moment a breath away from the bars.
The dragon bared its teeth, sensing a meal.
Akash plunged his hand between the bars, biting back a scream. The dragonâs fangs sank into his handâblood, blood, bloodâbut it was nothing to the fire and burn of the iron.
Three.
Nine.
Fifteen.
Thirty seconds was enough, and he was nearly there, nearlyâŚ
The dragon gave a gleeful little cry and vanished in a puff of glittering green.
Akash reeled back from the cage, gasping. Cradled his burnt hand in his whole one. Sucked air through his teeth.
Something skittered up his arm.
He pulled back the loose sleeve of his crisp cotton shirtâand bared his teeth.
The dragon wound around his arm, seemingly embedded in his deep brown skin. It twined over and around and around and around, a glittering, glimmering, iridescent tattoo. It shifted itself, sliding up past the crook of his elbow. Hot breath tickled the back of Akashâs neck. He pulled down his sleeve. Grinned fiercely through the stink of mortal hallucinogens and the clumsy, primitive thrum of subpar mortal music. His hand throbbedâand it didnât matter, because he had the dragon, and now he was going home.
I hope you enjoyed the stories đ Remember to check out The Infinite Bard for more free fiction every Wednesday!