Chokurdakh, Siberia, Russia
2007
Jaeger drained the shot glass. With the back of his hand, he scrubbed the remnants of the cheap vodka from his lips. The alcohol burned as it went down, not especially to his liking. Having acquired a taste for the finer things, rot-gut alcohol wasn’t something he necessarily appreciated, but there was a purpose for it. Across the table, a Slavic man stared back at him, chuckling under his breath.
“I’ve not met one who could drink as heartily as I,” the man spoke in his native Russian. Any other person wouldn’t have seen the telltale signs that the man was beginning to weaken.
There was a slight hitch to his voice.
A barest of sways to his body.
A slight drop in his eyelids.
Jaeger smiled back before pouring them both another round from the bottle. He believed it was their thirtieth. Or was it the thirty-first? He’d lost count along the way. No matter, as he wouldn’t be the one to lose the bet.
Dragons couldn’t get drunk, although as quickly as they’d gone through the empty bottles on the table, he might be testing that theory.
Men? They weren’t quite so fortunate.
Jaeger eyed the meager handful of rubles on the table between them, disliking paper money. Gold, that was better, but a bet was a bet was a bet.
Especially when he had ulterior motives.
He lifted the shot glass. “Za zdorovje.” Jaeger downed the shot and slammed the glass onto the table.
The human parroted the phrase and drained his glass. Jaeger watched the slight wobble to the man’s hand before he lowered the glass to the table. He smiled, pouring another round and finishing off their third bottle.
Jaeger had to give it to the man. He hadn’t seen a human able to drink so much in the space of two hours and barely show signs of drunkenness.
Barely being the operative word.
Well, he is Russian.
Jaeger eyed the man across from him. A Russian captain of one of the boats docked outside at the river’s port.
A boat that was carrying a painting that would soon be in Jaeger’s possession. After being stolen in Boston over a decade before, it had bounced around on the black market, always one step ahead of Jaeger. When he’d learned of the Russian oligarch who’d purchased it, he was well pleased. Once he’d bribed enough people to learn the route it would travel, he learned it would be passing near his Siberian hideaway on its trip to St. Petersburg.
It would look far better on his walls than the oligarch’s.
His castle was farther north, closer to the Arctic Circle, and the perfect setting for Rembrandt’s lost masterpiece. The Storm on the Sea of Galilee… Jaeger had been present in the painter’s studio as the human had finished his only known seascape, and Jaeger had fallen in love with it that very moment.
He’d already fallen a little for the handsome painter and spent many a night in the man’s bed, along with Rembrandt’s friend and art dealer, Hendrick. Not long after, Rembrandt had married Hendrick’s cousin, Saskia, to quell the rumors circling the trio and thus, ending their torrid affair. The Netherlands still held special memories for him even now, remembering the young lovers he’d had there. Possessing the painting would allow him to reach into the past…
As his future grew more and more bleak. Jaeger clenched his jaw, willing the human to yield.
The years pressed on without end.
Jaeger was a dragon without purpose.
A dragon without purpose was a dangerous thing. It heralded the shifter’s end of days…
The painting… that gave him something to hold on to.
A little piece of him almost didn’t want to find it. If it was lost to him once more, it would prolong his search.
Give him something to look forward to.
The moment it was in his hands, the chase was over.
And he might be over, as well.
Jaeger watched as the man across from him began to sway ever so slightly. He lifted a hand to the barkeep. “Another bottle,” he said in his perfectly accented Russian.
Before the bottle could be delivered, the captain began to sway even more. Finally, he fell onto the floor in a heap, an “oof,” coming from his ruddy lips. A smile played at Jaeger’s lips. The man at a nearby table close to the captain reached down to check the man as Jaeger scooped up the rubles.
He rose from his seat with the captain’s heavy woolen trench coat and hat in hand, handed the barkeep the rubles to pay for the bottles and the mess, and headed for the door. As soon as he was outside in the cold, he inhaled, loving the chill to the air. It wasn’t yet winter, but already it was a brisk -22 C° outside. Barges and boats lined the nearby river, the sound of their prows crushing through ice reverberating in his ears. Above, the sky was pale and gray, the sun fighting to be seen through the clouds.
Jaeger felt his scales shimmering across his body, his ice dragon pleased with the temperature. He slid on the captain’s coat. Typically, he only wore winter gear to appease the people out on the street. He could easily walk down the street naked without freezing, but in order to hide amongst the humans, one had to act like one. Today, he needed the disguise. After donning the fur-lined ushanka on his head, he reached inside the pockets and pulled out the scarf and gloves to cover his identity more.
Jaeger sighed. He much preferred to feel the cold wrapping its icy fingers around him. Once ready, he began walking toward the docks, in search of the ship. The ice and snow crunched under his leather boots with each step.
A scent suddenly crossed his nose.
He froze, rooted to the spot. Jaeger dragged in a deep lung full and his dragon roared within. He felt the tingling of his skin, the excitement of his dragon.
Gold.
Turning, he scanned the vicinity, trying to determine where the scent was coming from. Unable to determine a source, he followed the scent. His dragon rumbled deep, urging him to move faster. This wasn’t a paltry piece or two… what he was smelling was substantial. The small port town wasn’t known for its riches. Quite the opposite.
A trap?
Onward he walked, until he spied a small Russian Orthodox Church. At some point, the building had been something else. After the break-up of the USSR, the Russian government had become lenient on the practicing of religion, and many new churches had opened their doors. If he was correct, this one had been a Soviet office building.
The closer he grew, the richer the scent and the louder his dragon became. He reached the door, a knot to his stomach.
Yet he couldn’t stop his dragon from moving forward.
He slid the door open slowly, the creaking of it echoing through the sanctuary. Almost immediately, he saw the hoard upon the altar. Salivating, he held back, listening for a sound out of place.
He heard nothing. Sensed nothing. A tremor raced through his body, the scales flittering over his flesh for a split second before hiding again. His cock grew thick and hard, the desire for gold almost as strong as his desire for sex. Blood pounded in his veins, urging him closer.
It’s a trap.
No one leaves gold out to be so easily stolen.
He took a few steps in. Inhaling, the rich scent of gold filled his nose. Even if he wasn’t alone, he likely couldn’t sense anyone above that delicious smell.
Leave.
Now, before it’s too late.
Yet, Jaeger couldn’t help taking another step closer. He searched the interior. It was dark, the gray of the day not allowing much light in through the stained glass windows. No one seemed to be about. Turning his head, he stared at the pile of gold, the need making him weak. A rivulet of sweat coursed down his forehead.
Mine.
He took one more step—before utter pain slammed into him.
Molten magma came from above, burning the flesh of his shoulders and back. Jaeger dropped to his knees, a roar of pain coming from his lips. His jacket fell around his feet, and his shirt hung limply before him, the back of it destroyed. The scent of his skin and muscle cooking filled the air, masking the gold smell that had dragged him there.
He attempted a shift, but his body refused to cooperate. His claws came out, but his body failed him. The pain was too great. Again, he tried, but another wave of hot, liquid flowed over his body.
He fell to the floor, sweat coating him. Jaeger gasped for air between the screams of pain.
One last time, he attempted to shift.
Metal.
They’d poured metal all down his back. It already felt it begin to harden.
Pain seared through him as he fell to the floor.
The blackness soon took him, but not before he saw booted feet surrounding him.
This can’t be how it ends.
* * * *
Months later…
Jaeger knelt in his tiny cell, sweat coating his body. Beads ran down his body, shining in the fluorescent light of the small space. His lungs burned, his body shaking in agony.
It was a self-imposed agony.
This won’t be how I end.
Once he fully caught his breath again, Jaeger made another attempt to shift. A roar came from his lips as he felt the shimmer of scales race across him. His wings tried to materialize, but tore as they came up against the wall of metal. He could feel the tiny bones shattering the more he pushed.
The pain was like nothing he’d ever experienced.
Finally, he gave up and fell to a heap onto the middle of the floor, panting.
The door to his cell slid open, and a human walked inside. “Wear yourself out yet?”
“Fuck. You,” he whispered hoarsely, pissed he was so weak when an opportunity to escape materialized before him.
The human laughed. “No need for coarse language. We’re friends, are we not?”
Friends? Jaeger glared over his shoulder at Lore, lifting a brow. The man was decked out in his dress uniform, all his metals gleaming on the front. Behind Lore was one of his jailers, holding out a huge weapon and aiming it directly at him.
Had Jaeger been able to shift, that weapon would’ve been more than inadequate. They’d both be slaughtered, their prison demolished around them. Now, trapped in his human form, that gun could cause some damage—not mortal, but he was in no position to crave more pain considering what he’d just done to himself. He would need to shift in order to fully heal, which he hadn’t been able to do in weeks.
Months?
Years?
Time passed without a way to mark it in his tiny room. There were no windows. No way to truly tell if it was night or day—only the innate sensation he could no longer trust.
A sense that hadn’t alerted him there had been human soldiers lying in wait for him.
Lore took a seat at the corner of Jaeger’s tiny bunk. “I can ease your suffering,” the man said.
“Considering you’re the one who inflicted it, whatever your sales pitch, you can shove it.”
“Help us,” the man said smoothly, ignoring Jaeger’s words.
“Help you do what?”
“Shifters pose a threat to our world. We only seek a means of protecting ourselves. If I get what I want, I’ll free you.”
“Bullshit.”
Lore chuckled. “You have every reason not to trust us. I realize that, but I am a man of my word.”
“Shifters have existed as long as you have, and you’ve not suffered from it,” Jaeger said. “Your kind has nothing to worry about.”
The human stared at him as he rolled to his side and tried to push himself up. His arms weakened under him, and he fell back to the floor, his body betraying him.
“Shifters have killed many humans over the centuries,” Lore said. “Too many.”
“As with anything else, there are good and bad. Just like humans. I’d say you all kill yourself at significantly greater numbers than we kill you. Especially your kind, those in uniforms who carry weapons.” He forced himself into a seated position, the gun’s aim never leaving him for a second. “I’d guess a man like you has a long list of people he’s killed.”
Lore ignored his comment. “A shifter could wipe out humankind. We must learn how to protect ourselves.”
“Leave us alone and we’d have no reason to fight you.”
“So your kind should be allowed to roam freely and murder whomever they want?” Lore asked, his face growing redder by the second. A pulse formed at the side on his forehead, the blood pumping visibly. “We must protect ourselves from your kind.”
“You can’t,” Jaeger answered.
“We can’t?”
Jaeger shook his head. “You lack the power to stop us.”
A small, satisfied smile crossed Lore’s lips. “We stopped you. We put you in this hole and locked you away from the world. Even if you could escape us… you’re trapped in that human form, unable to show your true nature.”
Jaeger growled deep in his chest.
The man with the gun spread his feet slightly; ready to absorb the blowback from his weapon.
“Until your release, we could make your life here a little more… bearable. If you joined us… and helped us defend ourselves from this threat. We could allow you a bit more… freedom. If you proved yourself trustworthy. And a male… for your pleasure.”
Jaeger glared at the human. “For my pleasure? Do you really think to play the pimp and offer me a piece of ass to turn traitor?”
“Maybe some gold inside your room? Something to appease the animal within.”
At the mention of gold, Jaeger’s dragon roared to life.
“Fuck. You,” he repeated, forcing back the gold lust.
Lore gave him a wicked smile. “A hoard larger than the one we laid out to snare you in? We could put it in the corner and let the scent of it fill this room. How about it?”
Jaeger narrowed his eyes. “No.”
His dragon glowered within.
Lore’s smile turned into a snarl. “One way or another, you will do as I demand.” The human turned to leave, but paused. “Or you’ll suffer the consequences.”
Unable to allow the chance to pass, he took every ounce of energy he had left and lunged for the door before it closed. He wedged his body between the metal and the electronic locking mechanism. The strength of the closure was powerful. His weakened body was no match, yet somehow he got it to open.
Only to get shot in the chest.
He fell to his knees, pain erupting from the gaping wound.
Behind the other doors along the long hallway, he could hear the shrieking and screaming that had been more muffled inside his cell.
He was but one of many.
How many have they trapped here?
The fact he wasn’t alone perhaps should’ve made him feel less terrible, but it only added to his horror. How many shifters had they captured? How many men were they systematically destroying?
Jaeger fell back against the closing door. He struggled to get air into his lungs and felt his blood sliding down the front of his prison garb.
“How stupid are you?” Lore asked. “You can’t escape. You’ll never escape me.”
In that moment, he did feel stupid. But he’d had his reasons. For weeks, he hadn’t been outside that room. He’d awoken in it and had no idea where he was being held.
He needed to get intel if he had any chance of escaping.
Jaeger swept a glance up and down the corridor, checking for sentries, and saw nothing but cameras.
And a thin, sliver of a window at one of the ends.
Outside, the sun shone. A few inches of snow lined the ledge.
He closed his eyes, the sight almost bringing a tear to them.
The door behind him slid open, and he was hauled back inside and left on the cold floor, dropping him with a clink of metal on linoleum over concrete.
The humans left and the door swept closed again, leaving him back to his tiny cell.
No one would be tending his wound, obviously.
Slowly, his skin began to knit itself together. Before it could be left to be lodged within him, Jaeger reached into the wound and fished the large caliber bullet out. It took a few attempts, his blood making the slug slippery.
Finally, he tossed it to the floor as his body slowly healed itself. The metal tinkled as it skittered across the floor.
Without a shift, it would take longer.
He stared up at the ceiling, his mind, body, and soul weary.
This won’t be how I end.
This won’t be how I end.
Perhaps if he told himself that enough, he wouldn’t just give in and die.
And it was then that he realized he had something to live for.
The day he’d watch James Lore die.