Tesser: A Dragon Among Us (A Reemergence Novel) (4 page)

Humans are not the same as other animals. They think, speak, debate, care, and love. For them, with their heavily developed society and ability to use both the ancient magic as well as whatever new magics they have developed to build structures so high, they are set far apart from the rest of the animal kingdom. Yes, there were some animals that raped to intimidate, or to impregnate, but the whole idea of forced copulation for any reason made the dragon's skin itch.
 

Are this woman's feelings more important than her unconscious need to procreate? Are her emotions on the subject clouding her ability to judge that giving birth is important to further her line?

Tesser's mind raced as the three bodies in front of him moved in slow motion. He watched intently as the woman's face contorted from soft and pleading, to panicked and angry. She fought with all her might against the two men. The young adult males, however, had little panic in their faces. They had lust and anger.

Immediately, Tesser's mind discarded the strange debate as he felt his own emotions flare. This was not about sex. This was about domination. This was about ego. This was not about making a baby, and bringing new, wondrous life into the world. This was about causing pain and evoking a powerfully twisted form of justice. He'd seen it before in many places and he hated it.

And I will not allow it.

Tesser had no designs to shift into his dragon form to stop the rape from happening. His full form would never fit in the alley, and he knew far too little about this world. Revealing his greatest secret now, even for this, would be foolish. He would need to turn into something that would not be out of place.

Tesser became a man.

The shift from rat to human was painless, like all other shifts of which Tesser was capable. It took only the thought and desire to become something for him to change into that thing. As a human, Tesser preferred to shift into the same form over and over. It was automatic once he'd become comfortable. Akin to how one might button a familiar pair of jeans in the morning getting dressed, or how it is possible to tie a shoe without thinking about it, or even looking at it. Changing into an unfamiliar body took a few seconds longer as he decided how each and every aspect of his form would appear. What hair? What eyes? How tall?

Tesser's favorite people were the north men. He'd spent centuries amongst them, taking the form of a tall, muscular man. His hair was shorter than was the style then, as he made it now. He copied a hairstyle from a picture he'd seen in a window. His new body was lean and painfully perfect as he took his first steps forward. He was already very close to the men. The odd dark stone felt cool and rough under his bare feet.

The short man with the fat fingers turned and saw Tesser, naked and completely out of place in the alley. He challenged him after a moment of confusion, though Tesser didn't understand his words.

"Fuck off, hobo! Get some fucking clothes!" The man said, passing the frightening woman off to his taller, thinner friend.

Tesser watched as the fat-fingered man curled his hands into fists, preparing for the inevitable altercation to come. Tesser's bright, golden eyes nearly glowed with intensity. The thick person stood his ground, showing more courage than Tesser expected.

"One more step, faggot, and I break your jaw," the fighter said.

Tesser didn't understand him, and even if he had, he wouldn't have stopped. His mind was made. He was a dragon and this was a mere man.

The man angrily stepped into a punch that, had it connected, would've been powerful. Tesser's draconic brain and reflexes saw it coming long before he even threw it, so when the fist whistled out, Tesser was already stepping to the man's inside with enough time to watch the attempted strike pass by.

The other man and woman watched the entire fight end in the time it took to take a deep breath.

Tesser grabbed the man's right wrist with his left hand and squeezed hard enough to collapse the two bones at the base of the hand. It was the kind of injury that would have resulted in death when Tesser last walked amongst men. Before the man could let loose a scream, Tesser hammered his own fist up and under the man's ribcage, sparing him shattered ribs, but collapsing both his lungs violently. All of the fight had left him and it had only taken a second. Tesser guided the man down to the pavement carefully, though not gently. The man's nose broke against the hard surface they stood on, and he balled up into the fetal position, heaving air back into his empty chest and holding onto his ruined hand as his nose bled out a large pool of red blood. He groaned in pain.

The other man discarded the woman and bolted, abandoning his friend.

Cowardice. I see the humans still can suffer from it.

"Thank you, oh thank you. They were going to rape me," the pretty young woman said, her eyes boiling over with fresh tears of relief. Tesser couldn't understand her, but as she threw her arms around his bare shoulders he knew the essence of what she was conveying. Gratitude. She cried until the man on the ground got his breath back, and started to moan complete words, begging for help.

"Sweet Jesus, please! You fucked my arm up, man! I need help. Call 911! C'mon!" He cried out, rolling around on the ground in agony.

"Go fuck yourself, you North Shore guido! You and your fucking homo friend!" The woman yelled back, clearly out of control. She let go of Tesser and started to rear back a high-heeled shoe to kick the man in the groin.

Tesser again didn't know what she said, but could piece it together. He snatched up her wrists firmly, moving his body between hers and the man he'd just beaten senseless before her kick could reach the hurt man. He made eye contact with her, peering into her blue eyes with his golden orbs.

"Your eyes…" she said softly, entirely forgetting about the man who had planned on attacking her. The gold glittered like its namesake and she was entranced. Her rage melted away.

Tesser knew one word's meaning, and knew already it was nearly universal, and he spoke it softly, "No." He shook his head to match it, indicating that her behavior was too much. She simply nodded, all the will to be cruel gone.

Tesser smiled genuinely, happy that she was safe. He let her wrists go and turned, his long naked body causing the woman to catch her breath. His human form, the same as his rat form, was perfect. Tesser caught the tiniest whiff of her unconscious arousal and smiled. It pleased him enormously.

He crouched low and leaned down to the injured man.
 

"No, please, man. Take all my money! Take my ring; it's worth three G's! Just don't kill me!" The man scrambled on his back, getting his clothing dirty in the garbage. His shirt was covered in his own blood.

Tesser shook his head in disgust as he stood and walked down the alley, leaving the man and woman behind to sort out their futures. When he could, he stepped behind one of the large metal refuse containers and shifted down into rat form and disappeared. They had seen nothing.

The woman wiped her eyes, smearing her mascara terribly, and reached into her tiny purse for her smart phone.

Chapter Five

Abe Fellows

Mr. Doyle's home was expensive; everything inside it was expensive as well. The Beacon Street brownstone would list on the market for well over five million dollars and that was a fraction of the value of the artifacts that the reclusive sorcerer had stored in it. Where Mr. Doyle had earned the money to own such a home was beyond the young man.

Abe let himself in and walked upstairs. He entered one of the upper floor study rooms and sat at the corner of a long mahogany table. Intricate scrollwork ran along all four edges of the table. Words and runes were delicately carved in a very precise and magically powerful fashion in languages that were spoken no more. The table had been enchanted over a century earlier to be used as a place for experimentation. The spells cast upon it would contain and nullify any accidents, protecting those sitting at the table and the rest of the room. Abe called it “The Error-Proof Table”. It alone would fetch half a million dollars at the annual arcane auction in Paris should Mr. Doyle want to sell it.

But the old man would never do that.

His employer sat at the head of the table. The British man had a receding hairline that was quite gray and a round face edged by soft wrinkles.
 
Abe knew that was wrong.
 
The wizard had been slowing the decline of his aging body for some time, and there was no way to tell just how old he was. Mr. Doyle had told tales of experiencing the First World War in person, and that would put his age at no less than a hundred. He didn't look a day older than sixty.
 

Mr. Doyle sat at the head of the table, leaning over the invisible wall of runes at the table's edge and examining a large pocket watch. The watch was made of gold and, like the table, had its own set of carvings and inset words and runes. Abe watched both the timepiece as well as Mr. Doyle intently, utterly and completely unsure of what was happening. He cleared his throat quietly.

"Shhhh," Mr. Doyle said softly, holding a finger to his lips.
 

He even shushes in a British accent.

"
This watch, this marvel of magical engineering, hasn't worked in nearly ten years, Abraham. Ten years. It has remained in my pocket every day nevertheless. Yesterday, I heard it tick once at precisely noon. If you look at your wristwatch you will notice that we are just a few moments from noon. Your silence will be appreciated, young man."

"Of course. Sorry," Abe replied.
 

Why do I put up with his attitude? Seriously? I could totally apprentice under a different warlock or sorcerer now. Someone younger, someone with a more modern take on magic. Maybe someone in a west coast coven? Yeah, it might take me a year or two to find someone new, but it might be worth it.
 

The pocket watch ticked. Abe's eyes had been pointed directly at the second hand, and when it ticked off a single second, there was a brief flare of energy, almost like the watch had vibrated the very reality surrounding it, phasing into and out of our world. Abe felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

"Fantastic," Mr. Doyle sat up, pleased like a Cheshire cat. He adjusted his wire-rimmed, circular glasses.

"Does this mean…?" Abe let the question hang in the air. In truth, he had no idea what it meant.

"It means that some of the magic that has faded from this world is coming back, Abraham. Some of my most trusted associates back in the old world have confirmed that some of the spells and enchanted items that haven't worked in a decade are starting to function again. Powerful magic, Abraham."

Abe looked at the watch, then at his teacher. "What do you think is causing this? Alignments of the stars? A convocation of spellcasters? Some prophecy coming to fruition? Do we have any idea?"

Mr. Doyle sat back in his mahogany chair and wrung his fingers in thought. It was a habit of his. "I cannot say. Most of the prophecies of old are just the ramblings of mad men. Idiots and lunatics that thought they saw the future in tea leaves and the innards of a pig. Whatever has happened, or is happening, is unknown to me as of yet."

"What do we do?" Abe sat back in his own chair and looked through the doorway into a study that was lined wall to wall with ornate glass cases filled with all manner of strange objects. Velvet cases held jeweled rings and bracelets, while hooked mounts displayed swords, daggers, and more than one firearm. That room and all its arcane contents was Mr. Doyle's lifelong passion. All
things
magical were his obsession.

Mr. Doyle sat forward, eagerness in his voice, "We wait, and we watch. Something will happen soon. A sign. A magical portent of the supernatural will arise somewhere, and if we are vigilant, we will see it, and we will move to it and investigate it as the scholars we are, Abraham. I am certain of this. Nothing this powerful happens without leaving a mark, or making itself seen sooner or later."

"Are there divinatory spells we can cast? Can we get out your crystal ball, or fill the scrying pool you've got in the other room?" Abraham's heart jumped.
Oh boy, this will be fun. Real, honest, clairvoyant magic.

Mr. Doyle shook his head. "I'll see to that, Abraham. That is
my
forte. For now, I need you to do what you do best. I need you to search the internet. YouTube, Twitter, Facebook, and all those other foolish places you frequent so often. Use your modern savvy alongside my magical experience and we will find our clue soon, I suspect."

Are you shitting me?
Abe frowned, and spoke before his brain could stop him from doing so, "Are you shitting me?"

Mr. Doyle frowned in a sad fashion. "No, my dear Abraham, I am not 'shitting you.' Swallow your disappointment and get to work, my son. You do your part and I will do mine. Run to the Star Market and fetch yourself one of your energy drinks, and perhaps one of those bags of ranch-flavored corn chips you savor so. Bah. American snacks. We are in for a very long stretch, my apprentice." Mr. Doyle got to his feet with a slight creak to his motion. Abe thought he looked a little older today than yesterday.