Chapter Eight 

“First, we need to find you some clothes,” Willa lightly suggested. “While I really like the view, I still can’t imagine how you ran so fast and so far with all of,” she casually waved her hand up and down between them, trying not to stare as she went on, “that blowing in the wind.”

It was obvious a lot of what she was saying was sailing right over Asher’s head by the furrow of his brow and the confusion in his eyes. Although still lucid and pretty up to date with his speech, her Dragon’s mind was still a mass of confusion and chaos. Little by little, Willa was reaching for the Dragon King she’d briefly met, knowing that if the man and his beast could be reconnected, true healing would begin.

Holding out her hand, she waited for Asher to slide his fingers through hers before turning towards the latest, much bigger and infinitely less stinky cave he’d found for shelter. Walking hand-in-hand, static filled the air around them as Asher’s grip tightened. Slowing her steps and lowering the shields in her mind, the images of a darkened hallway, only the light from small, sparsely spaced bulbs hanging from thin black chains brightening the oppressively stark corridor.

Pungent…bitter…acrid, the stench of urine, feces, and decaying flesh assaulted her senses as agonized moans and tormented wails reverberated through her consciousness from the small barred windows of the padlocked doors on either side of the corridor. Looking through Asher’s eyes, feeling what he felt, listening to his thoughts, Willa instantly knew that he was planning an escape…and it wasn’t the first time.

Going limp, forcing the guards dressed as orderlies to hold all his weight, Asher’s head fell forward while his preternatural senses rode the airwaves, noting the electric doors and placement of the sentries. Listening to the orderlies, he smiled to himself.

“What the hell are they doing with this one in the middle of the night?” The bald one grumbled while yawning.

“Who knows. It’s above my pay grade,” the one with shaggy hair and a beard shrugged. “They offered double-time and a bonus and I said yes.”

“Me, too,” the bald one chuckled. “The old lady has been raggin’ on me about redoin’ the kitchen. A couple more of these jobs and I can shut her up.”

Snickering, the taller, scruffy one joked, “That’s why I’m single and stayin’ that way. My life, my house, my rules.”

“Dude, I hear ya’.”

  All conversation stopped as they approached the bullet-proof, steel-barred, double glass doors of the Treatment Theatre. What a comically fucked up name for such a horrid place. Concentrating on the six distinct tones rising from the electronic keypad as the man’s fingers beat the rubber keys, Asher continued to play possum.

Letting the muscle-bound men drag him through the door and down the hall, Asher counted the tiles on the floor, preparing for what was to come. Holding his breath as they dragged him into the largest room, the one with the most equipment, and lifted him onto the cold stainless-steel table. Waiting for that split-second when they would let go while fastening the restraints around his head and neck, he slowly exhaled.

Three…two…now!

The countdown still echoing through his mind, Asher’s arms flew from the table, the side of his hands connecting with each guard’s Adam’s apple as he lifted his legs towards his chest, throwing them downward and using the momentum to flip off the end of the table. Ignoring the gagging, wheezing orderlies, he sprinted into the brightly lit hall. Blinking against the harsh fluorescent lights, he ducked into the first exam room on his left and listened carefully.

Making sure no alarms had been raised, he stepped back into the corridor, looking right then left before dashing towards the door. Hitting the code just as the guard had, he had the door open and was darting towards an exit before the buzzer had ceased its grating growl. 

Kicking open the fire exit with the flat of his foot, Asher headed to the lowest level. Bracing his hands on the railing, he launched himself from one landing to the other, reaching the ground level and the loading dock with still no alarms sounding. Keying in the same code he used on the laboratory door, he opened the large garage-type aluminum door. Shivering as frigid gusts of arctic winds and flurries of snow whooshed in, he thanked Solveig for the warmth spreading through his body.

Not worried that he only wore a tattered pair of scrub pants, Asher took off into the blizzard, using his heightened senses to lead the way through the zero visibility. Ducking behind small outbuildings, huge silver tanks of petrol, and tall stacks of metal containers, he’d made it halfway across the grounds when the wails of the sirens slashed through the quiet calm of the winter storm.

Finding the door of one of the largest bungalows unlocked, he quickly entered, thankfully escaping the icy weather chilling him to the bone. Stacked from floor-to-ceiling with wooden crates, there was barely room for Asher to maneuver his huge shoulders through the narrow rows between towers of wood and metal.

Opening one container after another, he luckily found parkas, insulated pants, thermal gloves and fur-lined boots. Putting on the clothing as quickly as he could, the sound of boots striking frozen earth shattered the silence of the storage building.

Peering through the small windows at the rear of the shed, he saw a troop of soldiers heading in his direction. Zigging and zagging towards the door, he slid over the threshold and into the back of the marching ranks without being noticed.

Keeping in step, moving ever closer to the west side of the compound and the one fence without fifty-thousand volts running through it, Asher stretched his senses as far as they would go searching for signs or landmarks that would tell him where on the earth he was. Farther away from the horrors of the Treatment Theatre, past the last building and into a small wooded area they marched, no one speaking, all thoughts centered on finding the ‘abomination’ and returning him to his cage.

Humanity, in its rawest, most basic form, these soldiers, Hunters, their minds stuffed so full of lies and hatred that their brains were about to explode, were nothing more than minions, cannon fodder for whoever was running the show. They proved what Asher had always believed, humans, if given the right motivation could and would be bloodthirsty, warmongering, and bigoted, acting with extreme prejudice towards the object of their ire. They followed whatever leader was the most charismatic with the ability to play upon their need to be omnipotent.

But they weren’t almighty or all powerful. They weren’t even able to save themselves, that fell to the Dragons, the Universe’s chosen warriors. One of the many the Hunters were trying to eradicate with their gruesome torture and heinous drugs.

Without warning, a ring of familiarity alerted not only Asher but also Solveig to another of their kin close by. The sensation of brotherhood, of a shared bond of blood was evident but somehow obscured, tainted, filled with indignation and the refusal to recognize one of its own.

Searching for a place with sufficient cover to leave the formation without being seen, Asher remained in step until he spied a clump of trees to his left. Waiting until he was adjacent to the closest trunk, he made it exactly one step before becoming ensnared in a web of magnificent magic that bit at the bare skin of his face as sparks filled the air.

Shouts of ‘Stop right there’ and ‘Stop or I’ll shoot’ in their many variations echoed through the desolate area accompanied by the cocking of automatic rifles and the zing of Tasers charging. Immediately realizing it was futile to fight, knowing that even if he could escape the magical web, the soldiers had more than enough time to get a shot off, impale him with their electrical barbs or both, Asher held perfectly still, awaiting the arrival of the Dragon who dared to wield black magic.

Silent as the grave, the sharp intake of air from the humans the only indication that the enemy was close before the traitor stepped into Asher’s eye line. Unable to believe what he saw, willing himself not to react, throwing up his mental shields to protect his thoughts, Asher stood tall when all he wanted to do was ask why.

Refusing to look away, unwilling to show even the slightest sign of weakness, he continued to return the Dragon’s stare, waiting for the bastard to break the silence. Charged with electricity, the air around them swirled from more than the blizzard, the dark Dragon’s malevolent mysticism growing exponentially with every passing second.

Taking a step closer, the traitor finally spoke, his voice deeper than Asher remembered with a gravelly quality that spoke of injury more than lack of use. “So, you’ve made it farther this time.” Smirking, fire smoldering in his whiskey-colored eyes, he scoffed, “Did you really think to escape? Think that Red Castle had not taken every precaution to keep its…shall we say, ‘guests’ from leaving outside of a body bag or as ashes on the wind?”

Unable to hold back the flood of betrayal and fury, Asher snarled, “I don’t know, Taranis. Seems as though you’re still standing.”

Expelled from his mind and left standing alone as he stomped away, growling, “Don’t follow,” Willa watched Asher for as long as she could see him.

Tempted to ignore his wishes, but knowing she needed to stay put, to show her mate that she could be trusted to do as he asked, she took a seat on a huge rock, leaning against the trunk of a sycamore tree for support. Waiting and patience were both things that Willa severely lacked. After drawing pictures in the dirt, identifying the birds flying overhead and watching leaves skitter across the ground, she let her eyes slide shut and within minutes was soundly asleep.

Dreaming of people and places she didn’t know but that filled her with happiness, she happily awoke to the feel of Asher lifting her from the rock and tenderly kissing her cheek. Opening her eyes, she couldn’t help but smile and tease, “You don’t have to carry me.”

“Aye, but I like to.”

Waiting until he’d set her down and then joined her under the canopy of a group of low-hanging willow branches, Willa laid her hand on his arm and winked, “Nice clothes. Do I want to know where you got them?”

“No,” came his grunted reply.

Undeterred by his gruff response, she continued, “Did you happen to get anything to use as bandages for your arm?”

Tucking his injured limb behind his back, Asher gave a single shake of his head, his eyes trained on the ground and his mouth turned down in a deep frown. Emotional turmoil was the only way she could describe what her Dragon was feeling. Not only was he refusing to look at her but he’d locked her out of his mind and wasn’t saying anything that wasn’t a single syllable. Never one to let anything go, Willa refused to be deterred. Knowing that if they were going to survive an eternity together then he’d better get used to her ways.

“What’s going on? Who was that Dragon in your memories? What does he have to do with you? Why did he turn traitor? Was he one of your Clan? Did those people brainwash him? Bribe him? Lobotomize him?”

Up on his feet faster than she could track, Asher was nearly fifty yards away before he slowed down enough for Willa to see anything more than a blur. Following his lead, she ran after him, huffing and puffing by the time she caught up but ready to fight if that’s what he wanted.

Stepping in front of him, holding her hands up for him to stop, Willa demanded while wheezing to catch her breath, “Talk to me. Tell me what’s happening. I’m here to help, but I’ll be damned if I’m gonna stand by and watch you sulk. It’s time to buck up and help me help you. You’re better than this, I just know it. You have to want to get better.” The words came so quickly, spewing from her lips faster than she could hear what she was saying that it wasn’t until Asher’s eyes opened wide that she realized what she’d said.

“Fuck, Asher, I’m so sorry,” she hurried to apologize. “I didn’t mean…”

Brushing past her, his pain whipping around her like flames, Asher stopped as quickly as he’d started, spinning back around. Stalking towards her like the predator he was, he stopped mere inches in front of her, leaning over her so far that she had to crane her neck to keep eye contact.

Seething, the scent of burnt wood and ash biting at her senses, Asher growled, “What is it you think you know, Willa?” Gritting his teeth, the muscle in his jaw moving the whiskers of his ragged beard forward and back, he snarled through gritted teeth, “Do you know that Taranis is my brother? That we are twins? That he betrayed us all and helped those bastards sever my bond with my Dragon?”

Grabbing her upper arms just short of pain, his face moving closer to hers until the tips of their noses touched. “No! No, you don’t! You know nothing!” Picking her up and immediately setting her down an arm’s length away, he spun around and called over his shoulder, “Run along home, Little Gypsy. Go home to your kind. I don’t want or need you. The Universe made a mistake.”