Rare Form: Descended of Dragons, Book 1 (11 page)

W
hen it came to exercise
, I typically preferred to run out of doors or do yoga at home. But Timbra had convinced me to go with her to an indoor cycling class, insisting that exercise infused with magic was not to be missed.

The instructor, a knockout brunette with the widest gap between her thighs I had ever seen in real life, was a gifted illusionist. As the up-tempo beat-laden music thumped through the room, she first wove a scene for warm-up. Speaking into a wireless headset to be heard over the music, she relayed our intent for a four-minute warm-up along the Basel River.

As she described the gray water flowing along the serene banks, I was transported from the sweaty gym onto a river trail. She continued to speak, but her words faded away and in their place was the feel of cool wind on my brow as I began to perspire. A hawk “cawed” overhead and splashed into the river, its dive for a long slender fish successful. I continued to pedal through the warm-up at an even pace, my heart rate steadily increasing.

As I rounded a copse of trees, the music in the background changed to one with an urgent beat. A steep hill lay directly in my path. In order to make it up the daunting obstacle, I left the bike’s saddle and stood, pedaling in time with that driving beat. I pushed myself harder and harder, pedaling as if my life depended on it. My leg muscles screamed for respite, but still I pedaled. Near-breathless, I reached the top of the hill, and when I looked to the valley below the scenery changed.

The ocean’s endless expanse lay to my right. At a leisurely pace I followed a sidewalk and listened to the soothing ebb and swell of the sea as gentle waves crashed onto the deserted beach. The sun beat down, and it was wonderful, cleansing. I sipped water from a bottle on my bike’s frame.

The sandy beach became rocky terrain. The only trail in sight was overgrown and rocky, and my road bike was no match for it. I moved to re-attach my water bottle and when I looked down I saw I now sat atop a mountain bike. As I stood again to navigate the rough forest terrain, my surroundings became oppressive. Enormous trees formed a canopy so dense that sunlight fought to stream through. Sparse rays shot toward the forest floor, illuminating dust particles that pirouetted through their brilliance. I could hear the brief, hurried scampering of small animals as my approach frightened them away. The fresh woody redolence of the forest, the earthen scent of fallen leaves as they crunched beneath my chunky tires gave me great pleasure, even as I struggled to keep up the fast pace. The forest trail became less and less passable as I progressed, the underbrush at some places tearing angry red scratches across my calves. I had pedaled so long and at such a consistent incline that my energy level neared spent. My breaths left in ragged huffs and I began to feel lightheaded.

Luckily, the terrain changed once more, placing me at…my old neighborhood. I wondered how the talented instructor had ever formed this scene. Was she accessing my memories? It made me a little uncomfortable to consider, but my unease was soon forgotten as my old friends joined me on the street. I pedaled leisurely atop a vintage orange cruiser. It was my bike from my childhood with a basket in front and a broken kickstand—every detail was right. I laughed aloud with other giggling girls as an older boy showed out, popping a wheelie and then crashing as he overestimated his ascent. My basket held a Coke bottle and I slugged it, savoring the syrupy taste of real sugar.

Too soon this scene was replaced with another challenging course. I forced out the last remaining energy I possessed to complete it, so relieved to hear the words “cool down” and a reggae song replace the pulsing electronic beat. Rolling my neck and drinking my water, the gym class came into view once more.

I found Timbra immediately and mouthed “Oh. My. God.” She smirked; I could practically read her mind—
Told ya so
.

After class I approached Pippa, the instructor.

“That was so amazing. I’ve never experienced anything like that. Thank you so much.”

“Oh, I’m glad you enjoyed it,” she gushed. Her face was flushed, her tight exercise top as soaked with perspiration as the rest of ours.

“This was my first time. How did you create my childhood street and friends? How is that possible?”

“Trade secret,” she replied, tapping a finger to her temple.

T
he past three
weeks have flown by! I am shocked by the mountains of new information that I have learned with each class. My Tuesday/Thursday classes (Tools of the Trade, Elements, and Herbalism) have opened my eyes to so much more that I need to learn. And my Wednesday night Breaking Bad lab is going to be a lifesaver. I am learning how to protect myself from physical or mental attacks.

The overarching theme for me right now is self-awareness. I am horrified at how little I know about myself and my abilities. Every time I think about the shallow little existence I have lived up to this point… Shit, I just cringe.

I mean, sure, I’m a typical college kid. I’ve been ashamed to discover, though, that I’ve never even tried to scratch the surface of who I really am.

“After a time skin sags; appearance fades,” a favorite professor told me on my twenty-first birthday. “Look deeper,” she said.

At the time, I thought that sounded exactly like something a fifty-year-old spinster would say—what else did she have? But with each new day at Radix, I’m learning that the true strengths of a person cannot be found externally. True beauty can be found in a cherished friendship, in small acts of kindness, in self-exploration and education, and in the confidence that results from all these.

Beauty, however, is not what I am charged with discovering now. No, my directive at Radix, and as a new-found Thayerian, is to find power within myself. Power to shield against those that would harm me, power to find the physical form of my soul, power to manipulate the world around me—to do magic.

I
t was
my sixth meeting with Gresham. We met twice a week—on Monday nights, while the Metamorphosis class was still fresh, and again on Thursday afternoons. I’d proved successful in reining myself in and not climbing his tall ass like a tree. The thought crossed my mind once. Okay, twice. Hell, at every meeting—the important part was that I refrained.

He remained professional, and while he was often cranky, he did have rare moments of pleasant and sometimes even approached cheerful. I never knew which Gresham I would encounter, but since I couldn’t change who I was anyway, I usually chatted away merrily as he shared his insight on how to release my form.

“Dammit, Stella!” Gresham roared behind me. I jerked clumsily away, scrabbling for purchase of a nearby bench. We’d been practicing outside, the weather fair and his back yard lovely. I searched his face, thinking I had elbowed him in the nose or stepped on his toe—hurt him somehow. But, no. He was
frustrated
with me. For the first time, to my knowledge. He’d been patient, and I thought we’d been making real progress.

“What the hell, Gresham?” My voice came out in a higher pitch than I’d intended.

“Focus, Stella.” he said, rounding on me with clenched fists. “Do you think this is a game? You act as if this is all cotton candy and rainbows and that you have all the time in the world to prepare for what’s coming. If you aren’t committed to this, stop wasting my time. I certainly have more important things to do than play tutor to a silly little girl. If you’d pull your head out of that tight little ass for one moment you’d realize this is important. The sooner you discover your form, the sooner you can learn to control it. And when you can control it, you can use it to protect yourself.”

O-kaaaaay. I guessed we were bypassing cranky and going straight on through to deranged and conspiratorial.

But to insinuate I wasn’t serious, that I was being lazy, was going too far. I was infuriated. And, ‘silly little girl’? Well, that was just mean
.

“First of all,” I said, stepping into his personal space with fists clenched at my waist so tightly my nails dug into my palms. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. What do I need to protect myself from? And what’s the hurry? You said we could go at my own pace. Why this shit fit now? And furthermore, I am
committed
! While my friends are out having fun, you know where I am? In my room, spending all my time reading, studying everything I can get my hands on to catch up to what they learned at home. I may’ve had a disadvantage when I came here, but I’m so far ahead in most of my classes that I could teach them.”

He rolled fierce honeyed eyes at me, an action which made them far less attractive, though the pull of his angry mouth and the sharp lines of his gaze did scream ‘dangerously sexy’. Or just ‘dangerous.’ Or just ‘sexy.’ Damn, I was hopeless.

“Oh, please,” he scoffed, leaning so that he towered over me. I had to look up to see his face. “You haven’t even scratched the surface of the knowledge you need. And after three weeks with you, I’m not convinced you even
have
another form. All the books in the world can’t teach you to control raw power, Stella. You can’t possibly know what it means to coax a throbbing chakra; to fan its banked fire until, white hot, energy bursts forth and burns forcibly through your veins. You can’t imagine the rush you’ll feel when the only physical form you’ve ever known explodes into a thousand pieces and leaves a monster in its wake. And the liberating part about changing is that you don’t even care. You’re free; you’re…
yourself
—finally.”

Gresham stopped then, a stray thought obviously taking hold as he eyed me in appraisal.

“What?” I pouted.

“Nothing.”

“Tell me, Gresham. Why hold back now?”

“Oh, I assure you that I have held back,” he said, disdain dripping from his voice.

“Look, despite what you think, I
am
trying.” I slumped back down on the bench, my hands falling loosely to my lap. “It’s just that this entire thing is so foreign to me that I can’t grab hold. I mean, I understand the concept of it, sure, but putting it into practice is my hangup.” I slapped the bench with both hands in frustration, reveling in the sting. “And that’s why you were assigned to me, right? To help me with the physical part of my metamorphosis? I haven’t the faintest idea how to ‘coax a throbbing chakra,’ for gods’ sake.”

He’d gone still as stone, though his gaze still followed me. “I just thought of one way,” he said. “But it’s unconventional and I’m not sure you’re…up for it.”

“Gresham, you just chewed my ass and questioned my commitment. If you know of a way to help me, do it. I’m a big girl.” I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders. “I can handle it.”

“All right,” he agreed, though still hesitant. “But if you find the subject matter offensive, remember you asked for it. For now, just go with it.”

“I can do that,” I said. “Shoot.”

***

“Have you ever orgasmed, Stella?”

Whaaah? I nearly fell off the bench. I was sure glad he had suggested I sit, or I would have fallen over completely.

“Ah, that’s a pretty personal question.” No way was I talking to him about that.

“The sensations are related,” he said, exasperated. “I need to know if you have had an orgasm so that I can explain to you the similarities. If you’ve never had one, then the explanation is pointless.”

I started to say ‘who hasn’t?,’ but I already knew the answer to that. I personally knew a
few
girls. As impossible as it was for me to believe it, late-night, tequila-drunk, college girl talk had revealed some of my own friends had never orgasmed--through intercourse or otherwise. They blamed religious or parental guilt, and certainly their partners’ skill levels. “
What about, you know, ‘alone time’?”
I’d asked. These same girls couldn’t seem to shake the shame or the shyness to
help themselves
. And certainly I couldn’t see them in a novelty shop acquiring mechanical assistance.

But to the conversation at hand, I didn’t care to reveal too much and simply replied, “Yes. I have.”

“Excellent.” He nodded in approval. All business.

But then he lowered his head down to mine, scooting near me on the bench so that mere inches separated our faces; our noses so close that I could feel the warmth of his skin. He smelled so good. I let my eyes drift closed to savor the faintest hint of cologne mingled with the natural scent of his skin.

“Do you know that moment,” he half spoke, half whispered, gaze intent on my own, “when you feel that familiar quickening low in your body? That first inkling of knowledge that if things keep going this well, if you can just reach a little farther, that you’re sure to peak?” His eyes searched mine for the assurance that I did know what he meant.

I had to clear my throat twice to get out a shaky “I know it.”

“Yes,” he said, his voice deepening and his eyes crinkling at the corners with amusement and…interest? “It appears you do.”

The baldness of his questions, the proximity of his big body to mine, and his breath on my face that smelled minty yet sweet, like cloves, already had my engine revved. My breathing had become heavy; my chest rose and fell roughly with each breath.

His lips parted at my response. “You know what I’m talking about don’t you, Stella? Can you imagine yourself right now in that moment, just on the precipice of of your body exploding into a million pieces?”

“Yes,” I breathed, eyes closed. My god, it was way better than phone sex.

“Good girl,” he said, and hearing the words sent a thrill sliding down my spine.

“Now imagine not your…not your lower body, but your chakra; that place just outside your heart. Your chakra: your body’s true center. Imagine your chakra pulsing and throbbing, desirous of attention.”

Truthfully, I didn’t
want
to move from my throbbing lady parts to my chakra, but I understood the importance of the exercise. Reluctantly, I reached out with my mind, an imaginary palm moving slowly upward to rest above my breastplate. There. Faint, but there. It wasn’t a throbbing, but a thrumming, like when one gets too close to an electrical plant and can feel the vibrations of electrical current.

“I feel it.” I whispered emphatically, my breaths becoming shallow, quick.

“Good,” he said. “Good. Now, relay your memories from a sexual context to this psychic one. Concentrate on the quickening of your chakra, reach just a little further. Imagine yourself opening up, your inner being thickening and softening, becoming pliable and ready for this new experience.”

And, god, I could. My insides grew weighted and expanded, anticipating the next directive. I nodded my head, unable to speak, unwilling to break the spell.

“Yes, Stella. Perfect. Now, zero in on that one concentration of psychic power that’s your chakra—the clitoris of the soul, so to speak.”

“Imagine it catching fire and burning white hot. Yes, now, when I say, picture the entire chakra erupting into a massive explosion that forces its way through your veins and pours into your every organ. Are you ready?”

I could only vaguely nod, mouth agape in concentration.

“Now, Stella.” At his words not my body, but my
soul
, bucked, eviscerating barriers that until then had been untouched. I imagined a tiny hole forming in the thick, rubbery constraint, and then, like a beacon, my white-hot fire shined through. I singed a hole big enough for my inner being to escape, cauterizing my way through to allow access of every single atom of my physical form. Saliva pooled in the back of my throat as if I might be sick, but it wasn’t my stomach’s contents that wanted out of my body; it was my soul’s physical form.

Instead of nausea there was excruciating pain. A massive clawed thing was fighting within me to escape. Hell, it felt like several massive clawed things were fighting against each other, my body painfully wrenched this way and that from the force of their attacks. My head fell back as I cried out. My arms crossed protectively over my stomach, and I fell to my knees panting through the pain.

Gresham seemed to realize then that something had gone horribly wrong and dropped down beside me.

“That’s enough for now, Stella,” he said in a calming tone, though when I rose up to howl again I saw the briefest flare of panic in his eyes.

“Let’s put her back to rest for now,” he said. “Follow my instructions; can you do that?”

I could only nod, still panting through the pain like a laboring mother.

“Good girl. Now, imagine your chakra gradually and gracefully mending itself. Instead of flowering, picture it folding in like a hibiscus bloom at dusk.”

Still on his knees beside me, he reached over to gently smooth my hair. He continued to say soothing things, praising my good work and rubbing my back in slow, supportive circles. I worked hard to calm myself, to rein in my frantic pulse.

Finally, as if the gaping tear had healed, I felt normal again and breathed a deep, cleansing breath. I looked up at Gresham, giving him a quick nod to indicate that I was better, and rose upright. I put my hands on my thighs and sat on my haunches a while, recovering.

“Was that normal?” I asked once I was able to speak. I was weak, and the words came out in a croaked whisper.

“When it comes to finding one’s physical form, there is no normal. Each person, each form is different.”

“You know what I’m asking, Gresham. I saw fear in your eyes.”

“Well, most times releasing an animal form for the first time is difficult, and sometimes a bit painful. You were in substantial pain, though, which is unusual.”

“It felt…how can I explain this? It felt like things were clawing not at me, but at
each other
to get out. Does that make sense?”

Gresham nodded noncommittally. He was hiding something.

“What? What is it?”

“Nothing, Stella. You did well today. You did so well, in fact, that I am sure you’re exhausted. Let’s get you home.” He ran his arm across my back and held on to my shoulder, transporting me to the comfort of my room with a single thought.