Rare Form: Descended of Dragons, Book 1 (9 page)

“Students, let us get one thing clear right now,” barked a spindly bald man in spectacles at the front of the room.

“I will not tolerate nonsense of any kind. None. If any of you think yourselves comedic geniuses or overly intellectual, think again. Finding Your Metamorphosis is more than a college course; it will grant you the defining moment of your young lives.

“Soon we will embark on the most spiritual endeavor of your existence in order to find what physical form your very soul will take. You are undoubtedly familiar with the term ‘soul,’ the lifeforce of our being. In this class we will discover your soul as animal, or the physical manifestation of your true inner self. Through this course alone you will know the duality of possessing both a static humanoid and an animal form, and I’m the only one that can help you. I suggest you pay attention.”

My classmates and I dared not breathe. The only audible sound was the scratching of an ancient wall clock’s second hand ground over dull brass numbers by decrepit gears.

“Ah. I see I have your attention,” he said. “Let’s begin.”

Professor Fendrel Martin did, in fact, have our attention. This was the moment we had been waiting for—to learn to reach that part of us linked directly to our evolutionary heritage.

He held a stack of crisp white paper, and as he weaved between tables he distributed an individualized handout to each person in the class. He called out the surnames of the recipients. “Adder, Avenatio, Bartlet, Corleone, Durand…”

Damn alphabetical listings and an “S” name.

“…Redfern…” I had seen Boone, Layla, Ewan, Bex, and then finally Timbra all greedily snatch their stapled papers from the professor’s hand and devour its contents. I was dying to get my hands on mine.

“…Stonewall…” My heart stuttered to a stop and I sucked a breath in through my teeth. It took him 900 seconds to get to my desk, and when he finally got close enough I lifted off of my stool and snatched it right out of his hands. He probably gave me a censorious look, but I don’t know for sure because once I had the handout in my hands my gaze never left it. My whole identity could be revealed in the next second. All I had to do was turn the page.

The printouts were personalized for each student and listed family histories, genetic anomalies, and other information, as well as the name and contact information for each student’s advisor.

Many students shared advisors since genetic classifications intersected. Bex, for example, whose genetic ancestry was that of lions was paired—much to her obvious distaste—with another student whose family evolved from hyenas.

Likewise, Boone and Raynor shared an advisor since they both fell within the scientific suborder Caniformia. I had already learned of Raynor’s ancestry of seals. Boone, I was not surprised to learn, was descended of great dogs—ancient Greek Molossians.

“My ancestors chased the beasts of the forests,” Boone boasted. “How about you, Bristol?” he asked as he turned on his stool to face Ewan.

“My people
are
the beasts of the forests,” Ewan said menacingly. “You wanna have a go now?”

“Ah. No thanks,” Boone blew him off with a laugh and a shake of his head, ever the good-natured soul.

“And you, Stella? From what great line are your people descended?”

Of course he had no way to know that this subject was uncomfortable for me. I had not shared with anyone the enigma of my paternity; not even Timbra.

The paper was so starched that I had to lick my finger to flip to the second page. The cover whirred as I threw it over in search of my information.

Except for one line, my handout was blank. The only information listed?

Metamorphosis Advisor: Rowan Gresham

My heart plummeted to the pit of my stomach. I closed my eyes in defeat and anger and let out two or three breaths before I opened them again. I leaned to look at Timbra and Layla’s handouts to make sure that mine was, in fact, the anomaly. Of course it was. I knew I wouldn’t get any information about myself or my animal form that day. I never answered Boone’s question. I was so frustrated I couldn’t speak for fear of breaking out in tears.

Professor Martin dismissed the class shortly thereafter with the assignment of making contact with our respective advisors. I really should have seen it coming that Gresham was my advisor. No wonder he had taken such an interest in me. I still had questions, such as how did he know I existed and where to find me. With classes over for the day, I planned to use the remainder of the afternoon to hunt down Gresham and find out. But the best laid schemes, says the old Scots poem, often go awry.

Gresham didn’t have an office within the Department of Physical Form, nor did anyone know where he might be. I got the distinct impression that he didn’t use an office frequently, if ever. I left the building more than a little irritated. I really wanted some information
about myself
and I was sick of waiting to get it from other people. As I walked back to my room at Sabre Hall I decided to take matters into my own hands.

“Pia, do you have a way to contact Rowan Gresham?”

“Of course, Stella. One moment please.”

A real-time image of the man himself appeared on Pia’s six-inch screen a moment before he gave a strained, “Gresham.” The image came at an odd angle, almost as if his device was lying on the floor…or a bed. All I could see of him was naked, his wide chest and upper torso glistening with a fine sheen of sweat. I knew that he was powerfully built from the way he easily threw me over his shoulder the day of the car wreck. What I never expected was how defined and…and…yummy he would be.

His powerful rounded shoulders bulged and creased along his delts as if straining to hold himself erect. His thick pectorals featured a dusting of chest hair that screamed “
Man
.” What I could see of his upper torso was rigidly corded in muscle. He was built like a fighter. Powerful and lithe.

“Stella. Stella, what’s wrong,” Gresham was saying.

I realized with a horrified start that I wasn’t looking into his eyes, but down the strong lines of his body. I was peeking up and over Pia’s screen as if I could get a better, lower view. I glanced quickly up.

“Wrong? No, nothing is wrong. What…what are you doing?” I stammered, aware that I had interrupted some sort of physical exertion.

“I was trying to work out,” he huffed, grumpy as ever. “What can I do for you?”

I cleared my throat. And my straying thoughts.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were my advisor?” I asked.

“You didn’t ask. Do you need something, Stella?”

“I did too ask,” I whined, indignant. “I asked why you were helping me and how you found me.”

“Okay, I’m helping you because I’m your advisor. It’s my job to do so. Does that satisfy you?”

“No. You said you did ‘special projects.’ Am I a special project?”

He grunted, and the screen moved wildly before coming to a stop at his face. His head tilted forward and his jaw ticked, then he inhaled deeply before continuing.

“Do you know your genetic makeup?”

“Um, no.”

“Do you know into what you might turn once you learn how to reach your inner animal form?”

“Nope.”

“Do you have any idea how to control yourself while you’re in your form?”

“Uh-uh.”

“Are you aware of how to shift back into your natural form once turned?”

“Yeah, that’s a no.”

“Special project,” he declared with an imperious nod. “Is that all, Stella? I’m a little busy.”

“You answered the phone,” I whined, exasperated.

“It’s a P.I.A.”

“Whatever.”

“Goodbye, Stella.”

“Wait. I’ve been assigned to make contact with you. I assume we’re supposed to meet and get started on my…transformation?”

“Right,” Gresham said with approval and…menace? “Be at my place at 8:00.”

“Your home?”

“Yes. Your P.I.A. has my info. I’ll see you tonight.”

M
y first day
at Radix was, simply put, astounding. Being new not just to Radix, but to Thayer, I may be more overwhelmed than most Root students. The concepts of magic and craft, of an “animal form,” and of the need for psychic defense are all completely foreign to me.

I mean, sure, I have read enough fiction to be familiar with magic, but not magic. Like, for real. And it is real; I know that. I felt it the moment I stepped foot in Thayer. It is as if…well, it’s like walking in a zero-gravity exhibit—a different reality than I have ever known.

Today in Craft and Ritual Dean Miles cast a spell that made a copy of herself. She called it a ‘fetch,’ and I suspect she was just showing off, but the fact remains that she made a
copy
of
herself
. Magic.
Real
magic.

She may be talented and powerful, but she’s also a bully. She belittled me at the front of class, and I cannot fathom why. The only good thing I can say is that I was successful in my recent endeavor to better control my smart mouth.

It’s clear that I am going to have to work much harder than everyone else to overcome the learning curve I face. My classmates grew up with magic as a backdrop to their daily lives. Most of their parents and ancestors attended this school and passed on their knowledge. Hell, since animal forms are genetically-informed, most of my friends have a good idea what they’ll turn into upon this elusive self discovery.

But because Mom refuses to reveal my father, I have no idea if I’ll turn furry or feathery. Shit, what if I’m scaly?

Or horny. Ha. At least I’ve maintained my sense of humor.

“Stella,” interrupted Pia as I typed. “If you need help with humor, please feel free to consult me. I have an extensive repertoire of jokes…that are funny.”

“Oh, shut up, Pia. That pun was funny. Anyway, this journal is for my personal use, so as long as I think it’s funny that’s all that matters. Furthermore, stay out of my journal. These are my private thoughts; I don’t need your wisecracks.”

Where was I before I was so rudely interupted?

“Interrupted has two “r’s, Stella.”

Dammit has two “m’s.” How about that, Pia? Shut up has two “u’s.” Hmm? Nothing? I thought so.

Anyway…the one thing that stands out the most in my observations today is the absence of the word “witch” and any religious connotations and applications to the way of life here. Quite a difference from the fundamentalist Christian household I grew up in. It seems that due to the absence of Christianity and even paganism in the historical reference of Thayer, there is only a spiritual ideology that is wholly accepted. It is “animism,” I think, and based on the fundamental view that no separation exists between the physical and spiritual worlds and that not just people, but animals, plants, mountains, rivers, storms—everything has a soul or a spirit. It is fascinating and exciting, and I cannot wait to learn more.

T
here were
four free hours between my last class and when I was expected at Gresham’s for training. I convinced my new friends to take me into town. They may have grown up around the area, but it was all new to me; I was dying to explore this world.

We left The Root beneath its towering arched gates, walking the mile or so to the main square of the Thayerian capital, Caliph. The ancient city was formed along the Basel River, a source for water, fertile soil, food, and even a port of trade for thousands of years.

Radix was strategically located atop the tallest hill in the area. The winding footpath down into the city provided stunning views of Caliph and the surrounding expanse. The city’s architecture reminded me of medieval European cities like Florence and Prague, yet it wasn’t cold or crowded. Yellow buildings topped with terra-cotta roofs were broken up occasionally by copper domes gone green with rust. Tree-lined squares and intricate fountains dotted the landscape. I found Caliph to be as breathtaking and magical as everything else I had seen in Thayer.

Across a massive stone structure bridging one city to another was Vischt, Caliph’s working-class counterpart. Where Caliph had the impressive art, architecture, and infrastructure to show for its roots as the cultural and intellectual nucleus of Thayer, Vischt was made up of factories and ports, and the congested housing of blue collar workers.

For a girl that had never left the states, this new world, this city, was wondrously exciting. Radix was unlike any college experience, to be sure, but looking out over a medieval city steeped in history and culture called to me on a cellular level. This place was my home. It was in my bones, my blood. In my very soul.

Once we entered the city’s cobbled streets, I was so glad to discover gnomes, dwarfs, and even what I suspected were fairy-like creatures going about their daily business alongside people who looked like me. Though there weren’t as many of them as humans, these mystical creatures’ existence was still so new and curious to me I was caught staring more than once.

I was
trying
not to be so provincial.

Ewan suggested we eat dinner at a place on Caliph Square that had a large patio. A polite old man seated us with a flourish and took our drink orders.

“I highly recommend the pasta,” Ewan said with conviction. “They make it here and serve it perfectly al dente.”

“Which pasta?” asked Timbra.

“Any,” he said with an easy smile.

After placing our orders, we relaxed with our drinks, chatting and getting to know one another better. Our conversation came with such ease that it seemed no time at all before our food arrived.

I tasted a single bite before sighing in bliss. “Oh. Ewan. You were so right about this pasta,” I said between mouthfuls. “I really think it might be the best thing I have ever put in my mouth.” His grin reached his eyes before he ducked his head. “I’ve never had fresh pasta; only the boxed kind,” I went on. “The two are so incomparable they should have different names.”

The dinner provided an avenue for great conversation, and I learned a lot about my new friends.

“I grew up on a homestead just outside the city,” Timbra said. “We grew a lot of our food ourselves. My mother makes the best pasta sauce I’ve ever tasted. It simmered for hours on our stove, making us so hungry that we never had leftovers, no matter how much she cooked.”

“Sounds delicious,” I said. “What’s her secret?”

“A chopped carrot,” Timbra replied, though I never expected to actually discover the secret ingredient.

“We all lived in a big cabin deep in the forest,” said Ewan. “I have two sisters and three brothers. Big family. My father always stressed the importance of knowing as much as possible about any subject, every subject. We were taught to work hard and to study hard, and I always enjoyed it. My brothers…well, less so. And while my dad pushed integrity and work ethic, my mom ensured we were polite. She aimed for cultured, she said, but would settle for polite.” Ewan’s smile took an anguished turn as he talked about his mother.

“I’m sure raising six children was exhausting,” I said as I shook my head. “She sounds sweet.”

“She was,” agreed Ewan. “She died last year. She…she was sick.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, and I was. What I knew of Ewan’s character so far was remarkable. Not being able to meet the woman that raised him felt like a loss.

He quickly steered the conversation away from the subject. “What about you, Adder? You have a big family, too?”

That was the first time that I had considered the connection between dogs, wolves, and…well, litters.

“Oh, yeah,” Boone said. “I have several brothers and sisters. We’re a rough bunch. Played hard, fought harder, and ran wild in the countryside.”

“My childhood was less…conventional,” Layla told us. “The Avenatios, we’re more magical than most, and my upbringing was steeped in the supernatural.”

“What do you mean?” asked Timbra.

“Well, my mother made and sold spells, charms, potions for people. I grew up thinking every kid knew how to grind a turtle shell or find a beehive. It wasn’t until I got here that I learned most of you don’t know the first thing about magic.”

I made a mental note to stick close to Layla in Craft class.

“We rarely had need of magic,” professed Bex. “My father is fierce, my mother strong and beautiful. My mom runs things in my family, and appearance and poise was everything to her. She drilled my sisters and me until we ate, drank, and slept deportment. Luckily, she had a lot to work with.”

I was still evaluating whether or not anything valuable lay beneath Bex’s polished exterior.

“How about you, Stella?” asked Ewan. “What’s your family like?”

My heart sank. I didn’t have an answer besides my mother. And I really didn’t want my new friends feeling sorry for me.

“Oh! Look at the time,” I yelped after a quick peek at Pia. “I have an eight o’clock meeting with my advisor. I’m going directly there; I’ll see you guys back at The Root. Thank you for this wonderful afternoon.”