Francesco Marino

Leaving Damon's room has me wanting to break things. He woke up this morning, seemed to be turning the corner, and now, he's regressed. I can't be sure what's going on. Dragons are able to heal far faster than humans can, yet Damon wasn't healing, not entirely, far slower than he should be.

I marched on down to the kitchen, poured myself some whiskey, and drank it. Should've been savored, but I wasn't in the mood to wait. I needed something to take off the edge.

Miguel entered the room, took one look at me, and shook his head.

"Don't just me," I said as I poured myself more.

He glanced at the clock.

"Yeah, yeah, I know." It was nine in the morning. I lifted my glass. "Five o'clock somewhere, right?"

"What's the occasion?" Miguel asked, grabbing himself a drink from the cabinet.

I snatch the whiskey and won't pour him any. "I need you to do something for me."

"That doesn't involve drinking? Hardly seems fair." Miguel rubbed his throat. "Are you telling me what to do?"

"Please. This isn't a dick comparison type deal. Believe me. I only want you to do what I can't. We have too much on our plates to squabble."

"Tell me what you need me to do," Miguel said. "Not that I'm promising anything, but I'll hear you out."

"Damon. "I need you to find the best doctor, scientist, whatever. Someone who can figure out what is wrong with Damon. He's—"

"Oh, that." Miguel waved a hand. "I have five guys and gals coming over in about an hour. I've already been trying to figure out why he's not healing. Contrary to what you think, I don't only focus on myself. I do care about you and Damon. I'm a good tail for out clan, aren't I?"

"I never said otherwise."

"What are you going to do while I heal our second best tail?"

"You being the first?" I assumed.

"You know it."

"I'll be preparing the rest of our clan for battle. Hosting a drill and then getting ready for a battle. You have to know that we're going to be attacked and soon. We have to be on high alert."

Miguel nodded. "I'll handle Damon. And then I'm going after Audrey."

I groaned. "Miguel, we've been over this. It's too dangerous. Yes, I want her as badly as you do."

He smirked. Wait. Crap.

"I want her back as badly as you do," I corrected.

"Yeah, yeah, both want her and want her back. Why can't we take the fight to them again?"

"Because they have her."

"But if we go back and rescue her, then it won't matter."

"Let me worry about the Fanged Serpents. You handle Damon."

"Yes, fine. I will, but I don't like this."

"You know I don't."

Miguel shook his head, yanked the bottle out of my head, downed a few swallows, and left the room.

It didn't take me to gather all of the clan in a field to the north of our mansion. As a general rule, we never shifted to our dragons during the day when we might be seen, but this area wasn't where planes flew, and the day was cloudy. We took to the skies and rose above the clouds.

Another general rule? We didn't often battle in our dragon forms. Why would we? We weren't fighting each other. We were a family, not just a clan. Brothers and sisters, cousins, aunts, uncles, mothers, fathers, we were in this together.

At times, though, generally when drunk, Damon, Miguel, and I would fight in dragon form. An hour south of the city, we had a massive building, even larger, taller, wider than this one. Only one room. There, the three of us would rumble as our dragons more for the fun of it. What can I say? We were guys.

But that tussling might just help us as I guided the dragons through a few drills. It wasn't hard to claw and swipe or bash with a tail, but knowing where to strike against a dragon's hide was something that took skill. It wasn't our underbelly that was our weakest point. Under the arms. The backs of our knees. Where our wings protrude from our backs.

As I was trying to demonstrate how to escape when you were tangled claw to claw, a claw sank deep into my tail. I twisted around to see Fanged Serpents closing in on my dragons. I yanked my tail free and slammed it straight into the offending dragon's face. He tried to bite me, but I was already zooming toward him. I ducked as he blasted the air above me with fire and bit hard on his wing, tearing it, blood coating my tongue.

The dragon spiraled, falling and then rising, moving slowly, still trying to fight, but I was already pinching another's dragon's wing. Quickly I spun in a tight circle, timed it, and released the dragon so he collided into another one of his.

All around me, my dragons were fighting as best as they could, but it was clear to me that the Fanged Serpents had trained harder and longer. They often attacked in pairs, and my dragons weren't always covering each other's backs.

Killing a dragon wasn't easy. We were fierce, our hides thick, and we could take a pounding. Basically, we were like tanks.

Just then, a strangled cry rang out. A dragon, a female Three-Tailed Clan member, just stopped flying. One of Chloe Schwartz's wings had been torn nearly to ribbons, and a huge gash had nearly caught off one of her legs. I zoomed down to grab ahold of one of her arms, to slow her descent. A few others helped, and we managed to prevent her from slamming to the ground, little that that matter, though, because she was already dead.

With proud puffs of smoke, the Fanged Serpents flew off, leaving, the battle ended as a victory for them. Losing one of ours was a low blow considering we hadn't killed any of theirs.

Already, I was beginning to fear the worst, and fear was one emotion a dragon should never ever feel.