Page 17 of Shifter’s Thunder

When the song faded, she searched the high, wispy clouds for patterns, transforming them into charcoal sketches in her mind. A swirl of vapor became the crest of a wave. The long, thin streamer looked like the elegant neck of a swan. She visualized her mechanical pencil in her hand, losing herself in the lines and shadows.

As a captive, her dreams had been of escape, of seeing the new wonders in the world she’d lost. She had imagined endless travel, soaking in every color, every texture, every new experience the real world had to offer. Now, soaring toward that prison, she realized that what she really wanted was a home. Astonishment caused her wings to lose rhythm for a moment. The idea of having a place to return to was a novelty all by itself. Traveling was in her blood, but Kotoyeesinay was a tiny constellation of wonders just by itself, and full of people who welcomed her with open-hearted generosity. Even the eccentric dark elf, Iolo Maxen, had given her an armor charm, a nearly invisible chain that now circled her hind ankle, a gift from a near-stranger.

Tanner’s magic flared, which felt like a low, subsonic rumble in her bones. He flew with a powerful grace, like a storm given life and purpose. He was real. This was real. And the memory of his lips against hers was the most real thing of all.

She did not regret the impulsive kiss. He was unreasonably sexy, and even a stray thought of him sent her desire dancing. With a desperation that felt dangerously close to need, she hoped he wanted to repeat it. Knowing her luck, though, he wouldn’t. Perhaps that was for the best. She wanted to ambush him with her dragon’s best hunting techniques, but having sexual congress with him too soon would overwhelm the fragile, tentative connection they were building. A connection she wanted to keep if she could. The family curse of never recognizing a mate had never bothered her until meeting Tanner. She’d just have to hope the moon could guide her even if she was blind.

The feather charm from Tanner was a tiny warmth on the scales above her heart, a bit of borrowed courage and hope. He was a rock and a protector. She was a leaf on the wind. The chasm between what she could offer and what he deserved seemed as wide and empty as the night sky around them.

Her wings felt heavy, each beat a conscious effort against the thin air. Her dragon’s magic burned hotter to compensate.

She pushed thoughts toward Tanner. “We’re close.”

After a moment, he replied. “There’s a wrongness in the wind here. It’s… dead.”

“Yes. The shield steals energy from the real world. If you’re ready, I’ll try to open it.”

“Go,” came his clear thought.

She gathered a spark of the lightning she’d been harvesting from the clouds and launched three thin, probing bolts of energy. They hit the invisible barrier and illuminated its lattice with a silent flash. She could see the holes made during her escape, but she could also see a crude web of magical repairs. Was it too much to ask of the gods to let her have the easy way just once?

Her dragon was unhappy about the hard way. She wasn’t thrilled, either. It exposed the Storm Mouth family’s greatest secret. She might well be the only living Storm Mouth dragon, so she was only risking herself.

“Can you see the shield? They patched the hole.”

“I only saw it once you painted it with lightning.” His calm voice in her head cut through the turbulent currents of her fear.

“I have another way.” She banked slightly, steeling herself, praying to the moon gods to watch over her. “It will seem as if I have vanished. Stay ready.”

Drawing on the well Storm Mouth magic, she let her physical form dissolve. The sensation was a pins-and-needles agony that started at her wingtips and tail, a precarious unraveling of self. Her body broke apart into a cloud of charged particles, a dragon-shaped shadow of static and will held together by the barest thread of consciousness.

She slipped through the micro-fissures in the shield’s clumsy patch job, a ghost passing through a wall. The passage was an instant of searing cold, a friction that threatened to scatter her into nothingness.

She reformed on the other side with a jolt that felt like being born and struck by lightning at the same time. The agony seared as her dragon body knitted itself back together from the storm of particles. She was at the demesne’s portal door.

Her anxiety exploded, the memory of captivity a raw and bleeding wound.

We’re still free, Avelunne thought with gritty determination. And we’re not alone. Our friends are so close. Anger was a better fuel than fear.

This was the gamble. She and her fellow captives had devised two backdoors. She had used the obvious one to escape. This was the subtle one, the one that relied on Tippizoars’ lack of imagination.

She pressed her talons against a specific, discolored node on the portal’s frame, a spot that looked like a flaw in the construction. Then she pushed a precise, coded pulse of her own lightning into it.

For a heart-stopping second, nothing happened. Then, with a low groan, a bar of light appeared in the center of the portal as it opened to a narrow width.

She sent Tanner a focused thought. “Now! Dive in fast with wings folded, like an arrow. The portal thinks you’re an incoming supply delivery, not a living creature. It’ll pull you inside once it senses you.”

Even as she sent the instructions, the portal’s magic grabbed her and dragged her inside the opening. The moment she crossed the threshold, the demesne’s inner magic slammed her with a force change spell. Her bones and scales melted away, and her body collapsed inward in a violent, involuntary shift to human.

She hit the platform hard, aching and naked, on a slimy, yielding floor that felt like diseased flesh. The stench assaulted her, coated her skin, filled her nostrils, and tasted of death. Fear welled up. Bile rose in her throat.

A dark shape shot through the slit of open sky. Tanner. The forced change hit him just as hard. His thunderbird form crumpled mid-flight, the shift a brutal, uncontrolled tumble.

Fighting the wave of nausea, Avelunne scrambled to her feet. She grabbed his human arm and pulled him the rest of the way through the closing gap just as it closed, plunging them into the foul, dim twilight of hell.

Every breath threatened to bring an avalanche of dark memories. She shoved them back, burying them deep. There was no time.

Tanner was already moving, sliding a bracelet from his wrist. He slapped it against the portal’s grotesque frame. It flared with a silver light that froze the rippling flesh. He moved unsteadily to another section of the wall and pressed a second bracelet into it. The charm pulsed once, a silent beacon. He was sweating, his face pale and tight in the dim, sulfurous light.