Rare Form: Descended of Dragons, Book 1 (3 page)

“
H
i
, Mom. Whatcha doin’?”

“Hi, babe. Well, the Church Beautiful committee meets today. We’re planting azaleas in front of the Family Life Center. I was grabbin’ my work gloves when I heard the phone. Everything okay?”

“Oh, fine, fine. Just talking to Lizzie about her mom and dad coming up for graduation. Made me think of my own father and what he’s missing. You think he’d be interested to know I’m graduating college, Mom?”

I heard her grunt involuntarily, as if I’d punched her in the gut. She was silent for a long moment, but finally found her voice.

“I’ve got to go, darlin’,” she began, but I cut her off.

“Mother! I’m a big girl. I can take it. There’s no reason you can’t tell me at least something about my father.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t be late for this meeting. I’ll call you later.”

“I don’t care how bad it is, just tell me the truth.” I yelled into the phone, taking my frustration out on the empty line long after she was gone.

T
he rest
of the day turned out to be one of those that you look back on and wonder where the entire thing went. I daydreamed about the morning’s revelation during every spare moment…and most moments I didn’t have to spare.

Then I saw it happen before it happened. Most people I know have experienced deja vu, but it wasn’t that. It played behind my eyes like an old-fashioned movie reel, flickering and shaky; the picture grainy and streaked. And then it happened.

One minute Dr. Charlton stood before the class, pointing at a Hertzsprung-Russell Diagram in preparation for the final, and the next he backhanded his chai all over the lecture hall desk and a disorderly stack of manila folders.

I risked a look at my classmates. Everyone was behaving normally. Looked like I was the only one who had watched the event play out twice. I wished I could say that was the first time, but it wasn’t. Not even close.

I somehow got through my final, though I have no idea how well I did. I don’t remember a single answer. I was preoccupied with thoughts of my father, the possibility of an ancient unknown world, of unexplainable premonitions, and about the impending meeting with Gresham, who had offered to pick me up since I was officially rideless.

I still had a lot of questions. I hadn’t accepted the entirety of what he’d told me, but I was anxious to know more. Nothing wrong with gathering information in order to make an informed decision. Every time I blew off Gresham’s revelation as the ravings of a madman I remembered the small suited man. No doubt that’s why he brought him. Tricky, very tricky, this Gresham.

I used hot rollers so my thick red hair curled down my back. A little lipstick and mascara are all I ever wear for makeup, and I applied those before slipping into a billowy green top and a mustard skirt. I swiped Lizzie’s peep-toe pumps and headed for the door. I expected Gresham at seven, and would really have preferred not to have him in the apartment again because, in hindsight, I was embarrassed about my vicious behavior. I was justified, to be sure, but still preferred not to relive the moment.

Gresham pulled into the apartment parking lot in a sleek gray European car and held the passenger door open for me after a quick hello. Once inside the car he glanced my way and put his hand on the gearshift. But then he looked at me again in that way—the predatory one from the day before that made me feel exposed.

I’m something of an odd genetic composition. While my moss green eyes are typical for a redhead, my skin isn’t fair or freckled. It is olive, so it looks like an Italian was thrown in a blender with a Scotsman. He spent some time studying my face, and my eyes, especially, but it didn’t escape my notice that he also lingered just a little too long on my shiny lips and barely-exposed knees. Men.

Some small part of me was glad that he was studying me with such fervor because it gave me a chance to rake him from head to toe unnoticed. He was wearing a suit and looked amazing. In college, in a college town, it was rare that I saw anyone in a suit. This was a real treat. When they fit right, like this one did, I think men look absolutely stunning in a suit. His was charcoal gray and very expensive. My guess was Italian. A crisp white shirt and small-patterned tie completed the ensemble that I was willing to bet was unmatched in town that night. His hair was different than when I first saw him. He’d arranged it so the black waves were more controlled, forced up and back. The result looked sophisticated, sexy. His eyes were even more striking than I recalled. The brilliant amber was unhindered by his muted suit and understated car. It was almost as if everything else was an elaborate setting for them.

I came back to the present, all too aware that my mouth had parted as I stared dreamily at him. I cleared my throat and looked away, but not fast enough to miss the amusement that flitted across his face.

He pulled out of the lot. Neither of us had said a thing since getting into the car. Was this sexual tension? I realized, horrified, that for me at least it was. I shook my head. He was too old and honestly too…something else I couldn’t put my finger on. Dangerous? Predatory? Besides, he had made it very clear he thought I was much too young. Wait, why was I even having this internal debate?
Eyes on the prize, Stella, and he ain’t it.
Information. That was the order of business for the night.

“What kind of food do you like?” I asked to get the conversation rolling. We hadn’t discussed dinner, and I knew he was unfamiliar with the area.

“I made reservations at Luca. Do you know it?”

I did. Luca was an intimate, locally-owned Italian place with great atmosphere. It happened to be my favorite, though I rarely had an opportunity—well, the budget—to go.

After we were seated at a private table, the waiter took our drink order. Gresham ordered a bottle of French Blanc that was way out of my league. If I ever splurged at all I went for the $8 glass instead of the $6.50. I hadnt had anything of that caliber and I told him so.

“Life’s too short for cheap wine and expensive women, I always say,” Gresham smiled.

His joke lightened the mood a bit, and we fell into easy conversation about the town and about food. I ordered the seafood risotto and Gresham asked for the same.

“Can I do anything else for you, sir?” the waiter asked. There had been a definite emphasis on ‘else.’ I glanced up at him just in time to see his attempt at smoldering, but the look wasn’t meant for me. I cleared my throat, but the waiter spared me no attention.

“Henri,” with a thicker Southern drawl than mine, was paying far too much attention to Mr. Gresham. Each time he offered to serve Gresham in some way, the waiter looked at the floor and bit his lip.

“I think you have an admirer,” I said grinning from ear to ear.

“Who? Henri?” Gresham pronounced it ‘ahn REE’ as opposed to the ‘HEN ree’ that I suspected he was given at birth. “Oh, he’s cute but not my type.”

A record scratched in my brain. Was Gresham gay? Maybe he was. The suit, the hair, the shoes, the emphatic insistence I was in no danger from his advances… Highly possible when I looked at it from that angle. Dayum, what a shame. He would make such beautiful little black-haired Baby Greshams. But then how could his reaction to me in my apartment be explained? This topic definitely required further investigation.

“I realize you probably have a lot of questions, Stella, and I’m happy to answer as many as I can. Did you get any information from your mother?”

“Ah, no. I asked her on the phone but, as expected, she changed the subject and hung up. I’ll ask her again this Saturday when she’s in town for my graduation.”

“Graduation. Right. From the university,” he said, suddenly preoccupied. “That does present a problem. I had hoped to take you to Thayer this weekend. I’d planned to leave first thing Saturday morning.”

My brain short-circuited in shock, and my stomach threatened to return the expensive wine. It was one thing to discuss an alternate realm and wax poetic about its throwback lifestyle. It was quite another to accept that it actually existed. And then to entertain the thought of physically entering said realm…well, that was just insane.

My mind vomited questions. Was he for real? Was I actually buying into this whole thing? If so, was I really considering going? Could I come back? Was it dangerous? How would I get there? What would I pack? All of these questions flew through my mind as I absorbed what Gresham had proposed.

The one I asked was, “What’s the rush?”

He smiled. “As I told you before, being part-Thayerian has likely resulted in your possessing talents—of a supernatural nature. You’ve possessed them your entire life, but for safety reasons they’ve been concealed from your knowledge. Their use has been restricted until you’re old enough to control them. They’re yours by birthright, but you must be mature enough to use discretion and good judgment.”

That little tidbit blew my mind. I had a magical talent? What was it? I took a sip of my water and didn’t know if the slickness on the glass was condensation, or the result of my nerves.

“What about children born in Thayer? Both….two-dimensional…and full-blooded Thayerian? Are their abilities suspended until they reach maturity, too? What exactly is the age of maturity? Is it standard and arbitrary like voting or drinking?”

“Though there aren’t many, we prefer to call people like you bi-dimensional. Two-dimensional implies a lack of depth.” He smirked.

I twisted my lips, nonplussed. He cleared his throat and continued, “The answer to your question is yes. The use of supernatural abilities is restricted until age twenty-one. But the age is not exactly arbitrary; it’s believed by scientists, both in your world and mine, that the brain doesn’t fully mature until the mid-twenties. This of course varies from species to species in my world, but our governing bodies came to a consensus at twenty-one. Just imagine a gang of preteens with superpowers. They wouldn’t survive into adulthood. Many didn’t, which is the reason for such restrictions.”

“Sure, that makes sense I guess,” I said, though it did
not
make sense. “But what now? How will I even know what my powers are? Can I just start practicing in the bathroom or what? Maybe I don’t even have any.”

“No,” he laughed. “While you may have already felt some changes or experienced unexplainable urges, your full abilities will only manifest in Thayer. And even then only with guidance and lots of practice.”

My sudden recollection of the previous day’s premonitory weirdness must have shown on my face because Gresham leaned in, an excited gleam in his eyes.

“You’ve already felt something, haven’t you?”

I gave a noncommittal ‘mmm’ and looked away.

“I knew it,” he said, pleasure adding color across his sharp cheekbones. “I want to leave Saturday because a primos class starts Monday at Radix, Thayer’s Citadel for Supernatural Learning.”

I quirked a brow at the name.

“It’s a beautiful campus built centuries ago,” he said. “And an unparalleled educational experience.”

“What does ‘primos’ mean?” I asked.

“It’s our term for entering students. Instead of freshman, in Thayer they’re called primos—primos, sophos, tertios, quartos. Radix is a less American university-type atmosphere than you’re accustomed to here…more of a magical training ground for adult students.”

“I see the appeal, Mr. Gresham. I really do. But, why me? And how did you find me?”

“I’ve been trying to find you for some time, but it’s been difficult. I suspected that you were out there somewhere, but only recently discovered where. That’s why I was so thrilled to hear you say your name, despite the circumstances. My long search was over.”

“Huh,” I said, still thoroughly creeped out that he’d known to look for me. I had a bad feeling about the whole thing. “Sorry,” I said, declining his invitation to leave my comfy world. “My graduation ceremony doesn’t mean a lot to me, to be honest, but it does to my mother. I should cross the stage with my class.”

“That’s all right,” he said, undeterred. “Are you free tomorrow?”

I
must have been
out of my mind. I was leaving the only world I had ever known for another filled with magic and mystical species. I’d had to lie to my roommate and say that I was going out of town for a job interview. I hated lying, but how could I reveal something as outlandish as what I was attempting to do. She would never believe me even if I did tell her, and according to Gresham the fewer people outside of Thayer that knew of its existence the better. I would be back in town in time for graduation, and none would be the wiser.

I lay awake the night before entertaining the idea that Thayer existed. I weighed pros and cons; tried to make an informed decision. On the one hand, I had proof mystical beings did exist in the form of a dapper little bearded man. Also, and this was a stretch, but perhaps my precognitive experiences that had been growing more frequent of late might be the suppressed abilities to which Gresham referred. Finally, I really wanted everything Gresham had told me to be true. It would explain my lifelong tendency toward the weird. It could explain the useless scratchy visions. And I could finally get some information about my father.

Cons? The whole thing could be a construct of a handsome stranger’s demented mind…although, that wouldn’t explain the gnome. Thayer could actually exist, but wasn’t safe, and I would be in danger the moment I set foot there. Gresham could have an ulterior motive in taking me to this new world. Hell, his primary motive wasn’t real clear. He could be the one I should fear. But if he meant me harm, he could easily have taken me somewhere by force that day in my apartment. No, he wanted me to go to Thayer willingly, and he wanted me to like it.

It might be dangerous, but I was willing to risk it. The potential pros far outweighed the cons, and I was excited to see Thayer.

“
G
ood morning
,” said a clean-shaved Gresham. “I hope you slept well, despite the anticipation of what awaits you today.”

Gresham was waiting outside my apartment door sporting a grin as I grabbed my sweater and a small suitcase. He was super chipper, which I found…odd. His morning glow was quite a change from the subdued Mr. Rigid I’d encountered before. Maybe he was excited to be going home. He looked fantastic and completely put together in low-slung flat-front black pants and a lightweight charcoal sweater. My eyes snagged briefly on the way his hipbones protruded above the band of his pants. Wide shoulders paired with that narrow waistline made me wonder what he looked like without a shirt.

I was staring. Again. I snapped to attention, raising eyelids that had drooped as my imagination got busy. I shook myself and noticed with confusion that Gresham’s gaze was still on my lips.

I cleared my throat and answered the man’s question because at that moment it was all I could think to do.

“Actually, I lay awake for hours imagining what Thayer looks like, what the people look like, and hell, what they will think of me. After that I tossed and turned wondering who my father is and if I’ll ever meet him. Then just before dawn I dozed off only to wake grabbing the sheets and gasping for breath after a horrifying dream that I’d been defragmented like an old computer while attempting to cross realms.”

I fidgeted with the strap of my bag. I was practically bouncing with nervous energy. “I’m babbling. Sorry. How do we do this? Is there a top-secret teleporter? Some hidden ley line? Oh. I know—an ancient dolmen marked by megaliths. Or is there some heightened state of awareness that we need to achieve first? Don’t worry; I have read the books and seen the movies. I am well educated in all sorts of inter-dimensional transportation methods.”

Gresham’s mindset appeared to have gone from cheerful to leashed tolerance. Must not be a fan of the fantasy genre.

He took a deep breath and shook his head. “No, no, none of that. It’s much simpler, actually. Just think of where you want to go, take a step in that direction, and you’ll arrive at your intended destination.”

My incomprehension must have been evident because he added, “There are limitations, of course. Travel by intention is limited to a desired physical location, rather than specific person. You cannot just think ‘I want Matilder’ and appear on the sofa beside her. Most Thayerians create barriers, or wards, around their property so that guests aren’t just popping into their bedroom any time they please.”

I glazed over at some point. This was all so…so unlikely.

“Since you haven’t been to Thayer and can’t imagine a specific physical location, I’ll lead us both. Give me your hand.”

I looked to his outstretched hand. My mind was stuck on ‘take a step in that direction.’ I tried to speak, but only soft grunts escaped. I was suddenly dizzy, and I widened my stance so that I didn’t topple over. Hot May air ran over the back of my tongue as I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, willing myself calm and open-minded.

“You can do this, Stella,” he said with authority.

I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “I can do this. I can do this. I can do this,” I whispered. I placed my free hand in his warm—no, just plain hot—hand, and held onto my luggage with the other. He gave a slight, reassuring squeeze and nodded once at me.

Ready or not…

My eyes, which had been squinted shut, flew open at the sensations that permeated my entire being. My body was moving much too fast for my mind to comprehend. Unable to see or do anything else, I leaned into Gresham and grabbed his forearm with my free hand. I squinted my eyes again and lay my forehead on his shoulder, gritting my teeth in disabling fear and wishing desperately for the moment that the whole thing was over. There was a brief severe cold, like a container of dry ice had been opened. No rushing wind or intricate light tubes. One moment I was outside my apartment and the next I was…somewhere else.

Before me stood a colossal stone gateway that opened onto a campus straight out of a pictorial guide to Gothic architecture.

I had just traveled by intention.