Origin Exposed: Descended of Dragons, Book 2 (10 page)

“
Y
ou knew who
?” I whispered, but I knew already.

“Your mother. Edina.”

“Edina? No, Stella’s mother was Elena, Ms. Avenatio,” Timbra corrected.

I drew a soul-deep breath and exhaled it through strained lips. Then I just laid it all on the line.

“My mother changed her name, Timbra. Apparently she fled Thayer and raised me without ever revealing my true genesis—to me or anyone else.”

“But, who was she then? The only Edina I ever heard of was the one they do re-enactments about at Solstice Fest—the dragon—” Timbra’s words trailed off as her round eyes first held certainty, then doubt, and finally they seemed to plead with me not to admit it.

But there was no going back.

“My mother was Edina. The dragon.”

I relayed the story to Timbra, Layla, and Val. How my mother had been tortured and abused by Brandubh. I told them how lovingly she had raised me, and that she was the kindest, gentlest soul I’d ever encountered. I begged them not to judge her by the horrific actions she was forced to make, and I tried to convince them that she was a victim, too.

“I knew her,” Val said again. “Before.”

“Was she as I knew her? Was she docile and meek?”

“On the contrary, she was fiery—pun intended,” Val grinned and her black eyes gleamed. “She was fun and wild and free.”

“I never knew her that way,” I said, surprised by the loss I felt at the statement. “I think by the time she’d conceived me she’d had all of the “fire” tortured from her. The woman who raised me was gentle, but in truth she was just a shell.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Val said. “We were dear friends. We entered as primos together at The Root, and we were partners in Metamorphosis class since both our forms were airborne. Gods, we had such fun soaring the skies together.” Small white teeth peeked from her lips when shot me a crooked grin. “Even though she dwarfed me.”

“When the attacks began I didn’t believe the stories about her. I knew my friend would never—could never—do such violent things. Then I saw it with my own eyes. I think she would have decimated me if I’d gotten in her way. Her actions were so incongruent with the girl I knew. I could never quite reconcile what went wrong. And I’m afraid many people—myself included—were biased against her due to her fearsome form.”

“Like, ‘that dragon didn’t go crazy, that dragon went dragon’?” quipped Layla.

“Exactly,” her mother said. “I’m afraid no one really stood up for the Drakontos, or any of the dragon families, once the attacks began. And how could they have? They’d have been annihilated just like the gnome and fae people.”

“So, those dragons that were there in the crater when Brandubh attacked you?” Timbra asked.

“My grandmother, uncle, cousin.”

“Damn.” Layla said, and got it right.

“Did you help them escape?” Timbra asked weakly.

“No. I didn’t. They simply got away.”

“So,” I asked Val to change the subject, “did you see anything else? Anything that can help me with Gaspare Shaw? Can I trust him? Should I go to him for help?”

“The path looked clear, though not unburdened, Stella. I saw him as a prominent figure in your future.”

“Well, that’s pretty vague, Val. Anything else? Anything I should avoid?”

“It’s not an exact science, as I said. It is a gift, an art. But I did see that you aren’t free of danger yet. You’ll be betrayed yet again before all of this is through.”

“Figures,” I said. “Any idea who?”

She shook her head sadly and rubbed my back in a motherly way. “I wish I knew, hon. I wish I knew.”

“
W
ell
, besides the freaky aviary show, that was a complete waste of time,” I huffed and shoved my hair from my face after Timbra and I traced back to The Root.

“Oh, Stella,” she admonished, “you know it wasn’t. She gave you some direction. You can feel—well, kinda safe—about going to Prime Minister Shaw for help.”

To my dubious look she sucked a breath through her straight square teeth and shrugged. Then she took on an expression so serious it seemed foreign on her sweet face. “You do realize that our conversation about your mother isn’t over, right?”

Dread skittered across my back like a line of fire ants. I needed Timbra on my side. Besides her I didn’t really
have
a side. That was not a conversation I was looking forward to. I abhorred the thought of her being frightened…or disappointed. Timbra Redfern’s opinion of me meant a lot.

“I know, Timbra,” I said. “Just promise me —”

She’d stopped listening to me. Her attention was focused across the lawn in the direction of Sabre Hall where a very large, very loud man shook his fist and pointed his finger at anyone stupid enough to stop and give him attention.

“What’s
his
problem?” I mused as he transferred his anger from actual people to berate the shrubbery. I couldn’t make out what he was saying but Timbra’s cervid ears twitched wildly. She let out a long breath that sounded suspiciously like the word “shit.” At the same time, Mr. Loud and Gnarly whipped his head in our direction. His eyes widened with recognition and he let out a bellow surely heard throughout the entire campus.

“Timbra Dawn Redfern!” he hollered, and both she and I ducked.

I looked to Timbra to see if she was in some sort of trouble. She was in trouble, all right. I could tell by the frantic look in her eyes that her mind was racing. Her normally tawny complexion had paled to an unnatural puce. She unwittingly took a step backward and I followed her lead. It was obvious she knew him. That he was pissed was even more apparent, but about what I sure as hell wasn’t sticking around to find out. I clasped her hand, readying to trace and take her with me when she was suddenly jerked from my grasp. I looked up to find that the man had hold of Timbra’s shoulder and was pushing her toward a small copse of trees.

“Hold the fuck on,” I found the nerve to say. “Get your hands off her!”

“It’s okay, Stella,” Timbra said meekly as the man turned his ire toward me. “He’s my father.”

It was at this point that I noticed the ears—and the antlers. His ears were bigger than Timbra’s; proportional to his broad body. But those
antlers
. My god he was menacing. Though covered in a gray-brown velvet because it was June, they were nonetheless one of the most extraordinary things I had set eyes on. They grew back from the top of his head before shooting out and upward into a comb-like structure at least four feet wide. The physics of how he remained standing upright was a mystery. The sheer neck and upper body strength it took to support those things was unfathomable. But he was definitely built for it. His thick chest held a bulk of muscle apparent even through his khaki button-down shirt.

My enthrallment must have been obvious because Timbra reprimanded him sharply. “Oh, put the antlers away, Father. You’re scaring my friend.”

“I’ll do what I damn well please,” he said, unable to control the volume of his words. “And you’ll bite your tongue if you’ve got any sense left in your head. But if what I’ve been hearing is true, you either never had any to begin with, or it’s been corrupted by your perverse sexual escapades.”

Timbra jerked at his words. She stood dumbfounded as he continued to berate and insult her, stopping just short of calling her a whore.

There were sacred few things left I knew to be true beyond a shadow of doubt. One of those things was that Timbra Redfern was decidedly
not
a whore.

She was also
not
defending herself. She stood there, shoulders drooped in defeat, a million miles away from what was taking place right in front of her.

“Now wait just a minute, Mr. Redfern,” I interrupted, knowing full well what was best and safest for me was to back away and let the two of them settle what seemed a family matter among, well, family. But Timbra had become
my
family, and I wasn’t going to let the overbearing hulk of a man insult my friend, who I’d thought was meek by nature, but I was beginning to suspect was molded that way over time. “You’re yelling at Timbra like she’s been screwing the soccer team, and maybe you’ve been misinformed. That’s not her.” That was Bex, but I didn’t want to get into
that
. “Timbra’s a kind, intelligent, generous person with an exceptional moral compass. Accusing her of ‘perverse escapades’ is…well, it’s hilarious, really, because she’s the last person to be described that way.”

“Is that so?” His eyes were squinted to angry slits; his voice gritty with menace. “So she’s not sleeping with a dog? With that Adder boy?”

Words escaped
me
then. To confirm or deny Timbra’s relationship with Boone wasn’t my place. She was a grown woman and it was none of his business. On the other hand, I wanted to defend Timbra. Boone was wonderful for her, wonderful to her. They were crazy about each other, and very happy.

“It’s true,” Timbra squeaked from behind me, then cleared her throat and stated with more force, “It’s true. I’m seeing Boone Adder. I like him very much, Father. I think I might love him.”

Instead of espousing more rage at her admission, his face crumpled like sodden parchment. He turned his head, closed his eyes, and wheezed with suppressed emotion.

That was my cue to leave. I squeezed Timbra’s hand to convey my solidarity and headed for Sabre Hall.

A
s I trudged
up the wide stone steps, Pia alerted me to a note waiting at the front desk.
Oh hell
, I thought.
Gresham
. I snatched the note from my little mail slot behind the counter and opened the crisp white envelope with dread. But it wasn’t from Gresham at all. I glanced ahead to the last line, which only held a scribbled “SD.”

I
’ll be
at the cafe on Ulmo Street today from 12:30 to 2:00.

Would enjoy seeing you again.

Dad and Granny say hello.

SD

S
D
, I thought.
Dad and Granny
? Then I got it. Stryde Drakontos. What the hell was he doing in town? During the day. And at a cafe, no less. I checked Pia for the time. It was 1:30 and I had another class at 2:00. I’d have to hurry.

T
hankful for tracing
in a time crunch, I went as far as I’d been downtown and used PiaMaps the rest of the way. Though it was mid-day, the street was so lined with old trees that it was shaded and cool. Several small tables lined the street ahead. It was impossible to be
too
cautious, so I peeked through the window of Cafe Bjorn. There were only a few patrons, but a booth at the back of the restaurant was conspicuously occupied. He wore a hat over his dark hair and sat low in the booth, but it was unmistakably Stryde.

Three little bells chimed as I entered, attracting the attention of a husky woman behind the bar. She nodded but never moved her concentration from the tasks behind the counter. Stryde saw me and started to rise, but I waved him back down and looked around nervously. The whole situation had me on edge.

I slid into the booth and wasted no time to whisper, “What are you doing here? Are you crazy?”

“No one will recognize me, Stella. I was young when I,” he paused ever-so-slightly, “left, and I’m not so well known as Dad and Granny. Besides, I wore a disguise.”

“The hat? Yeah, not fooling anyone. I knew you right away.”

His lips turned up in what was meant to be a smile. It was the first time I’d seen him attempt one, to my recollection, and it was
off.
Like he’d borrowed it from someone and it didn’t fit right. Maybe with some alterations or if he could fill it out better. In its current state, though, the gesture was disarming.

“Oh, here comes the waitress,” I said. “She won’t recognize you, will she?”

“Of course she will. I’ve known her since I was a child. Stella,” he said as she approached, “this is Deandra Bjorn, an old friend of my family. Deandra, Stella—my cousin.”

“It’s true, then,” she breathed. “You’re Edina’s. I didn’t believe it.”

I shrugged and mumbled “Nice to meet you” as she studied my features. She reminded me of the women I used to see back home—the ones you knew just by looking at them came from a long line of farming families. Strong-backed, barrel-chested women with biceps and quads that would put weight lifters to shame. Women who could give birth to a strapping son one day and be back on the tractor the next.

“So this is one of the people who’s helping you?” I asked, once Deandra left for my water.

“Yes, Deandra’s family and my family—your family—have been close for many years.”

“How do you know that you can trust them?”

“Magical families like ours have always stuck together. We have to.”

“What do you mean, ‘magical families’?” I asked.

“Well, our family isn’t your typically-evolved squirrel or salamander. We’re descended of dragons, a mighty, magical creature. As is your father’s omni blood,” he mused. “So you have magical forbearers on both sides.”

“Wait a minute. Are you saying ‘magical creatures’ like unicorns and merpeople? Is that what you’re talking about?”

Stryde lifted a sleek black brow. “Merpeople are just regular people with aquatic ancestors. It’s likely someone in your world caught a glimpse of one of us, and thus a myth was born.”

“Uh-huh. And unicorns? You gonna tell me they’re real, too?”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” Stryde shook his head as if I’d lost my mind.

“
Me
? You think
I’m
being ridiculous?”

He didn’t know how to respond to that. The implication of course was that’s exactly what he thought.

“Deandra’s family are great bears,” Stryde went on after clearing his throat. “Besides their powerful natural animal forms, they’re also magical skinchangers. They can inhabit the minds of animals. Or people. And because people fear being inhabited, throughout history Deandra’s family has faced prejudice. Not to the extreme we dragons face now, but prejudice as a result of fear, nonetheless.”

Stryde’s green eyes clouded over as his thoughts took him far away. “Several hundred years ago a woman murdered her own husband, her entire family. When they caught her she claimed she’d been possessed. Fear spread like wildfire of the Bjorns and others like them. Everyone known to be a skinchanger was rounded up by mobs and accused of awful, evil things. People who the week before patronized the Bjorn’s general store—who hired Deandra to babysit their children—they lost their minds to fear of the unknown, the unusual. They accused the neighbors they’d known their entire lives of intending to mind-rape them.”

“My god. That’s awful.” I’d not heard the story, though it was similar to so many throughout history. Fear of the unknown, prejudice, and violence against those that were different. It was a tragic story that repeated itself time and again. “What happened? To the woman. To the Bjorns.”

“The woman was discovered to be schizophrenic and had hurt her family in a psychotic episode. The Bjorns and others like them were innocent, though they faced continued prejudice. They do still, but refuse to back down. They opened this cafe. They continue to serve and help their neighbors in spite of everything.”

“Exceptional people,” I said.

“They are. They’ve been instrumental in our survival since escaping Brandubh.”

I nodded and took another look at Deandra, this time with much more appreciation for her people, her history, her heart.

I came back to the present after a quick glance at the time. “Stryde, I’m sorry. I only had half an hour until my next class. I have to run. Is there something you wanted to talk about?”

“Oh,” he said and blinked several times in short succession. “No.” His disappointment was evident in his stiffened shoulders. “I only wanted to get to know you better.”

The admission was a departure from the bizarre and detached demeanor I’d encountered before. “Oh, we’ve got plenty of time for that,” I said and waved away his seriousness.

I left the cafe admiring Stryde’s bravery for overcoming his crippling fear and myriad issues in order to get to know me, his estranged cousin, better.