Chapter 27
Zaden
It'd beentwo days since we dropped Bryce off at his friend's house. He'd had a great time and was home snoozing now. Krystal was as well. I closed up the bar myself tonight, a job I enjoyed. The trick was to focus on the tactile. The sweep of the rag across the sticky bar top, the repetition of pint glasses stacked mouth-down on rubber mats, the metallic clatter of ice scooped from bin to slop sink. Every surface was familiar, mapped into my muscle memory a thousand times over. Each Sunday night was the same.
The crowd had thinned by two, and the regulars trickled out in twos and threes. Even Kenneth had taken a sandwich and vanished. The only noises left were the hum of the refrigeration and the quiet click of the liquor bottles as I inventoried the shelf. Sometimes I liked to think the bar had a heartbeat, slow and stubborn, refusing to stop even after last call.
I finished wiping down the last table and turned all but one row of lights off. The place looked different in this half-lit state, more honest. It smelled of lemon cleaner and a faint, lingering undertone of old smoke, even though we’d gone non-smokingyears ago. It was the afterimage of a hundred years’ worth of packs, stubborn as memory.
I poured myself a soda and took it to the office. The paperwork didn’t care what time it was. There was a rhythm to counting out the register, logging the receipts, balancing the till. The computer screen painted everything blue, the text sharp and impersonal against the battered wood of the desk. I filled in the numbers, made a few quick notes for Kenneth, "Check keg levels before lunch shift," "Find out who’s drawing dicks on the bathroom stall again", then scanned the security feeds one last time.
Every camera angle was clear, and each door locked tight. My eyes went to the corners of the image, looking for the flicker, the ghost, anything out of the ordinary. Nothing. Only my own warped reflection, hunched at the screen.
I logged off, killed the lights, and did a walk-through, front to back. The windows all closed, the coolers humming, the chairs stacked.
I shut the door behind me, listened to the bolts slide into place, then stepped out into the alley.
The night air wasn't super cold, but it had a nip that promised winter was on its way. The main drag of Stock Creek was empty, all the shops and restaurants asleep, even the neon at the vape shop blinking out between colors. The alley behind the bar ran three blocks, ending at the mouth of a shallow creek. Nobody ever came back here, except for the occasional high schooler with a six-pack or the foxes looking for a bite.
I set my bag down and stretched, rolling my shoulders. The ache in my neck said it was time to shed the skin.
I scanned the alley, more out of habit than caution, then let the change come.
First, the heat, a full-body rush that burned through the soles of my feet and up into my teeth. My bones lengthened, rearranged. My skin thickened, turned to armor and scale. My hands cracked open and curved, fingers dissolving into talons. Every tendon pulled tight, then loosed, then pulled again as my body stretched into its true shape. The pain was exquisite and brief, gone as fast as it came.
The world grew smaller, then bigger again, then smaller still as the shift finished and I hunched, dragon-spine pressed to brick.
I unfolded, one careful segment at a time. My scales shimmered in the dark, picking up scraps of moonlight. My tail curled behind, nearly double the length of my human height, and my wings were massive and strong enough to snap a telephone pole if I didn’t watch my flight.
I stood for a second, cataloging the scrape of gravel under claw, the sharp tang of the air, the distant chemical sweetness of antifreeze from a leaking car a block away. My dragon senses never dulled. They layered over each other, building a picture of the night more complete than any camera.
I crouched, checked the sky, then launched.
Flight is its own language. It doesn’t translate to humans, not really. There’s no "up" or "down," only where the next current takes you and how your wings catch it. The air was clear, perfect for gliding. I took it slow, low at first, skimming over rooftops and the cracked tar of the main road. Stock Creek was a speck of a town, but from above, it felt like the navel of the universe. Every light was a beacon, every heat signature a story.
I banked left, then caught a gust that pushed me higher. The town lights shrank, and the mountain that loomed over everything became another shadow. Out here, I could see the scatter of farms, the subdivisions stitched together by long, winding roads, the quicksilver flash of a deer herd moving at the edge of a field.
I circled wide, then angled toward the northwest edge of town, where the cottages thickened into woods. The mate bond thrummed in my chest, a silent GPS that pointed the way to Krystal and Bryce. The closer I got, the stronger the pulse. not a sound, not a feeling, just a certainty. They were safe. They were home.
I dropped altitude, careful not to rattle the treetops, and coasted above the house. It was dark except for the single lamp in Bryce’s window, a faint blue glow that seeped into the yard. The security cameras I’d installed blinked red, their tiny eyes never sleeping. I ran a quick perimeter check, scanning for any movement, nothing but the usual. A possum crossing the road, a feral cat nosing around the trash.
I slowed, hovered, and let the dragon sight go deep. I could see in the windows from this angle, and it didn't matter to my dragon eyes that it was dark.
Bryce was asleep, a tangle of arms and sheets, his mouth open in mid-snore. The wolf plush was still clutched to his chest. Krystal lay on the bed, fully dressed, one arm draped across her eyes. Her breathing was slow, even. I counted the beats, twelve per minute, the same as always.
Satisfied, I swept the rest of the property, then found my landing spot. I dropped to earth behind the shed, back where the ground went soft, and the grass grew wild.
The shift back to human was easier but left me hungry. I stood still for a moment, skin prickling, checked the cameras one last time from my phone, then walked the house perimeter. I listened for anything weird or out of place. Only the ordinary night sounds answered.
Inside, the fridge light painted the kitchen white. I opened it, found the leftovers from dinner, and ate straight from the Tupperware. The mate bond ran a soft background hum, not urgent. Sated. It told me, in a way that was older than words, that everyone inside these walls was safe, at least until sunrise.
I rinsed the bowl, set it in the sink, and padded down the hallway. I paused outside Bryce’s door, letting myself soak up the ordinary miracle of a kid sleeping without fear.
In the master bedroom, Krystal had barely moved. I slipped in beside her, careful not to wake her, and watched the line of her jaw in the moonlight.
This was the center of my universe, for now. This was enough.
In the darkness, I let myself dream. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t have to fight it.
