Dragonsapien (7 page)

‘Then why
haven’t we seen or heard of more people flying to safety?’ Mary
asked.

‘For the same
reason that Harry’s staying put for as long as he can; the longer
everyone remains calm, the longer we have to prepare everyone for
what’s about to happen. Besides, Harry says that everyone he’s
warned has been pretty sanguine about it; they’re both grateful and
amazed we’ve remained undiscovered for so long. We’ve always been
aware that we couldn’t remain hidden for ever. They’re hoping that
humanity’s progressed enough to accept our presence, much as
there’s now far more understanding amongst the different
races.’

‘The difference
between the human races is pretty minimal,’ Hincheley growled
ominously. ‘They might not be so understanding when they feel
threatened by a species stronger and – yes, let’s be honest about
this –
superior
to them.’

Erdwin shrugged,
an anxiety in his grin that he couldn’t hide. It was as if, Jake
thought, he’d already considered this point and didn’t want to
accept the assumptions he’d made regarding any possible
consequences.

Noting the sense
of unease that had spread across the gathering, Perisa smiled
brightly as she turned first to Celly then Leon.

‘Celly,’ she
said remarkably gaily, ‘why don’t you show Leon around the island?
It will help you get to know each other again, and remember old
times!’

Jake couldn’t
help but notice that the uneasiness hanging over everyone
immediately vanished. All the adults were now smiling
expectantly.

‘Sure,’ Celly
replied. ‘Me and Jake can show him round, can’t we
Jake?’

The smiles
vanished even swifter than the sense of unease had.

Obviously, Jake
realised, this isn’t what the Volances and even their servants had
had in mind when Celly’s mum had suggested taking Leon on a tour of
the island.

‘Oh, but that
could take
ages
, Celly,’ Perisa said, gently reprimanding
her. ‘You could do it so much quicker if you flew, couldn’t
you?’

Celly glanced
back at Jake apologetically, her eyes pleading for understanding as
she said, ‘I suppose so.’

Jake shrugged;
what else could he do?

Celly’s mother
could have just about leapt for joy, he reckoned, when Leon stepped
forward, holding out his hand for Celly to take.

Even Mary looked
like she was pretty close to erupting into a burst of cheers and
rapturous clapping

Leon was already
transforming, his skin glistening with gloriously captivating hints
of emerald and amethyst, his wings unfurling as much as they could
within the confinement of the canopy and its supporting
stanchions.

Jake had to stop
himself from gasping at the beauty of it all; a cathedral’s stained
glass made real, solid, flowing and moving with incredible
grace.

How could Celly
fail to be as equally impressed as he was?

Taking Leon’s
hand, Celly turned, leading him out from beneath the canopy. As
soon as they were clear of everyone, she underwent her own
transformation, her skin shimmering like waves of molten gold and
silver, her wings like captured and elegantly controlled
sunrays.

Suddenly, Leon
stumbled, as if his legs were giving way beneath him.

He lifted a hand
to his forehead, clasping it in the way you would if suffering a
dreadful headache, or trying to stop yourself from feeling dazed,
dizzy.

His wings
crumpled slightly, such that they dragged weakly and uselessly
across the sand behind him.

What was wrong
with him? Jake wondered.

He whirled
around, surprisingly anxious, wondering what everyone else would
make of Leon’s abrupt change.

Everyone was
beaming happily, watching Leon’s bizarrely dazed antics as if they
ranked amongst the most wonderful things they’d ever seen. They
seemed excited, enthralled, rather than apprehensive.

Could it just be
that Leon was tired after his journey?

Jake studied
Leon more carefully now, trying to interpret his drunken stumbling
as nothing more than a sign of a fatigue.

Yes, yes; it had
been a long journey after all. It would have taken a great deal of
energy and strength out of him.

And, as if Leon
had abruptly arrived at the same sensible conclusion, as if he had
decided that he couldn’t fly another inch, he completely furled his
wings away. Celly immediately followed suit, her wings rippling in
the sunlight like the shimmering of a mirage, then smoothly
disappearing into her back.

Still holding
hands, they made their way down the beach like two young
lovers.

So, Jake
thought, he wouldn’t have slowed them down after all.

Then again, he
told himself bitterly, I don’t think anybody will be happy if I run
after them.

*

Very few of the
pebbles he was throwing skimmed across the water as they were
intended to do.

Rather, they
plunged into an oncoming wave, or simply hit the sea at the wrong
angle, instantly vanishing beneath the surface.

Jake didn’t
care. His mind wasn’t on aiming low and flat enough, or getting the
spin on the pebbles right.

Throwing the
pebbles was simply a sign of his anger, his frustration. When they
disappeared without a trace, without a skip or bounce, beneath the
waves, it was a satisfyingly perfect summation of how he felt at
the moment; overwhelmed, small and useless against the might of the
never-ending, unstoppable waves.

Less than
quarter of an hour ago, he was the happiest he’d ever
been.

Now he felt more
miserable than he would have believed possible.

He felt
strangely empty, yet also ridiculously heavy. Awkward, graceless.
Dumb, stupefied.

Like the control
of all his senses had deserted him.

Like everything
about him was poorly formed, badly connected.

Everything about
him was hateful, useless.

In short, he was
everything that Celly wasn’t.

Celly was
wonderful, gorgeous, graceful. Celly was fun, bright,
sparkling.

Celly was
perfect.

Celly was
superior.

Out of his
league.

How could he
have ever fooled himself that he and Celly belonged
together?

Yet it was Celly
who had made him feel that he wasn’t inferior, that they were made
for each other.

Only moments
ago, Celly had made him feel as perfect as she was.

Almost made him
feel, in fact, that he could fly, just as she could.

That’s
how happy he had been.

And
now?

Like the pebbles
that sank and sank, vanishing in the waves; that’s how he felt
now.

*

Farther along
the beach, Jake came across the indents in the sand where he had
lain with Celly.

He angrily
scrubbed it out with his feet. Kicked at the sand like he was
kicking Leon.

He looked out at
the glistening waves, remembering how he and Celly had come
together, been drawn to each other, within their rolling
embrace.

He couldn’t
scrub that away, could he?

The flowing,
sparkling light had rippled across their skin. Making them glow.
The glow of silver, diamonds and sapphires. Of stars and the
clearest sky.

For a moment,
awash in the sea’s undulating glow, he had foolishly flattered
himself that he was as beautiful as she was.

Fooled himself
that he too looked as if he had been blessed by the sun herself,
reflecting her glow, her magnificence.

Of course, in
his case it had only been a briefly borrowed beauty.

In Celly’s case,
it was perfectly natural to her. Like she was an offshoot of the
sun. Like she had been born magically from an elemental
fire.

Because yes,
even untransformed, Celly’s skin glowed deliciously. This glow,
though, was the luminosity of perfect, unblemished skin, the
radiance of health, the golden sheen of the lightest, most flawless
tan, continuously bathed in the sun’s light.

They all had it;
all the dragons.

Now he came to
think about it, yes, even when in human form, there was this
strange sense of a faultless, brilliant aura about them.

What was it they
said about certain people lighting up a room? As if they carried an
inner radiance?

Yes, that was
the Volances all right.

Their servants,
too.

And – though he
was loath to admit it – yes, Leon as well.

Wasn’t that what
all his anger was about, really?

That, unlike
himself, Leon possessed a beauty comparable to Celly’s, in its
way.

He was tall,
slim, elegant.

Every movement
flowed effortlessly, one into the other.

Even as humans,
even though they weren’t actually humans, they were a more perfect,
superior species.

And as the
creatures they actually were? They could have been formed from
everything that humans deemed precious.

Gold. Silver.
Rubies. Sapphires. Opals. Emeralds.

Hah! Hadn’t he
read in fairy stories, in legends, that dragons jealously guarded
hoards of precious gems and treasure?

How ridiculous
was that?

Their skin was
more beautiful, more awe-inspiring, than any treasure hoard he
could imagine!

And, come to
that, wasn’t here something else those legends and medieval
illustrations had also got so ridiculously, so laughably
wrong?

The way they
told of or pictured a single knight in armour taking them
on!

Oh
sure!

A single slash
of a talon would open them up like they were a handy can of fresh
meat!

Jake blinked,
shaded his eyes, as a bright burst of sunlight flashed in the sky
just above him. Incongruously, he also abruptly found himself
enveloped in a growing shadow.

He glanced up
towards the glistening ball of golden light. It was descending
swiftly towards him, a miniature sun in its own right, a fiery,
falling star.

Celly.

Celly was
dropping towards him, her wings now halting and slowing her fall as
if she were a descending angel.

The sun’s rays
shimmered through the languidly beating gossamer wings, seemingly
transforming the surrounding air into shimmering, fluctuating
streams of liquefied gold.

Celly giggled
happily.

Then, suddenly,
her arms were wrapped tightly around his shoulders, his
neck.

She drew his
head close to hers. His mouth to her lips.

Then her wings
curled about them both, an embracing cocoon of blazing light, of
the most reassuring warmth.

*

Just to think;
she had always wondered what her first kiss would be
like.

How was it
supposed to work?

Did your lips
meet straight on, or at an angle?

Should they be
dry? Or should she wet them slightly, with a secretive wipe of her
tongue tip?

But not too wet,
surely; that would be
horrible
, wouldn’t it?

And
where did your nose go? Wouldn’t it get in the way?

Now, it all just
seemed so natural. So easy.

So
meant
to
be

Like it required
no thought at all.

No thought
apart, that is, from how wonderful it all was.

How incredibly
delicious it felt.

As for her nose,
well; it just somehow fitted perfectly against Jake’s
face.

Just as his
nose, his cheeks, his lips fitted perfectly against her cheeks, her
lips.

Fitted, in fact,
as if they had been deliberately formed to match, to complement
each other.

Everything
brushed lightly, strangely tantalisingly, against each
other.

Like their skin
was whispering, one whispering its love for the other.

Jake didn’t need
to talk to tell her how much he loved her.

His lips, mute
yet endlessly moving, flitting across her neck, nibbling beneath
her chin, her ears, savouring hungrily the rising of her throat as
she ecstatically arched her head back; they told her this in ways
words couldn’t express.

And when their
lips met once more, they nestled delicately, or merged firmly, the
contours blending and inseparable, as if each needed the other to
feel fully whole.

Their lips were
soft, moist, malleable, unresisting.