It was so cold ithurt, and she shivered violently for the few seconds it took for her to release the muscles that held her human shape.
Much as it feels to open one’s clenched fist, she allowed her other form into being, and then opened her wings wide and leapt into the air, beating her leathery wings against the frigid air, taking off and gaining speed easier than ever. Icy wind rushed past her underbelly, but oh, the freedom of being airborne once again — the sheer, bone-deep rightness of it.
She flicked her tail and banked, going low over the dome and then in a circle around it, for all the shifters who’d gone aboveground to see the dragon fly.
She blew a torrent of fire for them and realized it gave her a few moments of warmth, flying through the heat, so she did it again.
And then she turned away from the water to explore the inland, as she’d wanted to do since she’d flown over it in the plane, looking out the window.
Early November’s sun hung low, a pale gold disk skimming the horizon, gilding the snowfields in honeyedlight that lasted only these precious hours before the long night would swallow it.
She soared low over the alien landscape, her wings slicing the wind with a resonant whoosh, each downstroke propelling her over endless snowfields. The Arctic sprawled beneath her like a living tapestry, tundra rolling out in undulating waves of white and frost-kissed brown, punctuated by thermokarst lakes frozen into mirrors that fractured the landscape.
She banked left into a joyous barrel roll that sent her heart thundering, and dove toward distant movement — a massive polar bear, lumbering along the edge of a low ridge.
Emmy trumpeted a deep resonant call that echoed across the landscape, and the bear reared up, paws splayed, before dropping to all fours and vanishing into a snowdrift.
She rose above a squat willow thicket with frost sparkling like crushed glass. The wind carried the tang of brine and frozen earth, and she breathed it in. Nine months too long, she thought, exhilaration bubbling through her veins. She spiraled upward again and then leveled off, wishing for thermals to play in, and watched her shadow race across the snow.
Below, in a hollow near a winding river, an arctic fox chased a lemming and then pounced on it. A mile away, timber wolves slunk through a willow thicket, their gray forms low and purposeful, yellow eyes flicking skyward as Emmy’s form blotted the sun.
Ptarmigan exploded from the underbrush in a feathered panic, white wings beating frantic against her downdraft,and a snowy owl perched on a knoll turned its head, golden eyes unblinking, as if weighing her worth. Most likely, he’d decided he wasn’t big enough to be a meal for her, and thus he was safe.
She opened her jaw and released a controlled plume of orange and gold that licked the air, turning superheated vapor into a buoyant updraft. The warmth enveloped her, a silken glove against the eternal cold, but only for a few seconds.
She rocketed through clouds that tasted of ice crystals on her tongue, the world below a mosaic of life etched in frost, and caught sight of a caribou herd migrating south in ragged lines, their antlers a tangled forest against the snow. Just over a rise, a wolverine scavenged a large carcass.
Regretfully, she had to admit it was time to head back. Toby had given her a nearly two-hour window, but the cold was getting to her after perhaps thirty minutes, and she’d seen enough.
The sun dipped over the ocean on her way back, painting the horizon in bruised purples and fiery scarlets, and Emmy wheeled once more, blowing fire with abandon to stay warm. Or at least, not as cold.
She made a quick dip over the ocean and spotted dark clusters of seals, and she banked over the small town toward the Aurora Ballroom’s dome, with its buried secrets.
She dove one last time before landing in a spray of snow and cold,changed, and was happy to see security had taken her clothes inside for her, as promised. She ran into the ballroom, through it, down the stairs to the first floor, andthen grabbed the fireman’s pole and didn’t slow until she hit the flock’s common area.
Seventeen more steps, and she was in the welcoming heat of the sauna. Several minutes later, Rhea entered and sat beside her with a huge smile. “Damn, you are magnificent.”
“It’s beyond motherfucking cold out there, but holy hell did I need that.”
“I’m actually looking forward to the feeding frenzy tonight,” she told Rhea. “I haven’t been fucked in three days. Pretty sure that’s a record for me.”
A week later, all the mammals were back to normal, but the perpetrators hadn’t been caught.
Emmy was looking forward to this feeding frenzy, though. She’d been turned on when reading about it before they left, and it was finally time to experience it.
The flock was responsible for their own hair and makeup, with pictures of what was acceptable. Basically, hair pinned into curls, but simple. Nothing fancy. And if they wore makeup, it had to look natural, as if they weren’t wearing it. No contour, no glitter. Nothing modern-day.
And they only had to arrive in the theater ten minutes early to get dressed. Some nights involved an hour of hair and makeup followed by the costumes.
Emmy would be one of four flock members on stage with vampires who’d bid in an auction to fuck them with theothers watching, which meant forty-four tables were set up in the ‘audience’.
Felix wasn’t on stage, but someone had bid on him for the night, wanting a level three they could hurt, so he’d be on the first row.
Other than those who were bid on, flock members were always at the same table or cushion, and the vampires moved down one table every night, so they got a different person.
Once dressed, Emmy stood center stage looking down on the floor, and couldn’t wait to get started.
It turns out, girls wore stolas, not togas, though it wasn’t actually that much different. Hers was white and gauzy, clinging to her now dye-free skin, and came to her mid-calf.
