On The Prowl

"Claire, listen to me," Heidar said in a furious whisper. "The Dark Fey have a very low birth rate – even worse than ours. Most of them can't interbreed with humans and that, plus losses against the Alorestri, have seriously reduced their numbers."

I looked at him blankly. Why the hell was he telling me this now! I could smell the burning flesh on the wind, and hear the sounds of carnage from within the trees. I felt sick.

"He probably won't kill you," Heidar continued, "as long as you show the proper respect. When he emerges, don't challenge him. Just stay perfectly still as he looks you over, wings folded, head down."

I vaguely wondered what else he thought I was going to do. My head was killing me from the arrow still sticking out of it, and my wings were useless. Not to mention that this body I'd somehow acquired looked nothing like the dragon's streamlined, lithe form. I doubted if those little wings could lift my bulk even if I figured out how they worked.

The scene wavered in front of me as the dragon emerged from the woods. He stepped on the body of a fallen Fey, grinding it into the mud. Then he just stood there, looking at me for a long moment. Despite the horrific things I'd seen him do, I couldn't help but be awed. He was a terrible, but strangely beautiful, sight. His golden scales had a reflective quality that mine lacked. Flames from the burning trees reflected off them, painting him dark orange and red in places. His wings, which he didn't seem to have any trouble controlling, were huge, black things that made mine look almost vestigial. As I watched, they folded neatly over his back.

He moved closer, not the clumsy waddle I'd been doing, but with almost snakelike fluidity. His large golden eyes looked me over, taking his time. His long snout nudged Heidar, who I was proud to see didn't go screaming after the other Fey, although he looked like he was thinking about it. Then the snout brushed against my tattered wing and a whimper slipped out between my lips. It was half pain, half knowledge that I was no more match for him than I had been for the guards. His talons were fully six inches long, and glittered like daggers at the end of his paws.

He paused, and reared back at my small cry. He said something, actually spoke, but it was in a language I didn't know. It had a liquid undercurrent that washed over me almost like a caress. Then his form wavered like it was melting. But there was no residue on the ground, nothing to show he'd been there except a tall man with dark red hair and a tender expression.

"You have your mother's eyes," he told me, right before I passed out.

Chapter 6

I woke up on a bed in a large room. It was mostly dark, except for the flickering shapes a few low-burning candles sent dancing along the walls. But the fact that everything was slightly out of focus told me that something very good had happened while I was out. A glance at the human-looking arm draped over my stomach confirmed it. I was back.

Somebody groaned nearby and I sat up. A very battered-looking Heidar was lying on a nearby chaise, while an old woman in a white apron finished winding a bandage around his waist. "Stop whining, elf," she told him, "your ribs will be sore for a day or two, but you'll live." She didn't sound happy about it, and the squeeze she gave his shoulder as she pulled down his nightshirt was on the wounded side. He drew in air with a hiss, but didn't retaliate. At the moment, I wasn't sure he could.

"What happened to you?" I asked.

The woman spun around. "Ah, you're awake." She bustled over, beaming.

"You fell on me," Heidar said accusingly.

I blinked at him. He was basically one large bruise, which, thanks to his accelerated healing abilities, had left him with bright orange and lavender splotches all over his body.

"Sorry."

"Don't you apologize to him! From what I hear, you saved his worthless elf hide." The older woman lifted my arm for a look. I got a look at her, too, and realized that I'd been a little hasty. Whatever she was, woman didn't seem to quite fit.

The head was all right, complete with kind blue eyes, wispy white hair pulled back into a neat chignon and a pair of reading glasses perched on the end of her nose. But the body under the apron didn't move like a human's, and the hand she reached out to me with was more like a claw. I looked down and saw three-toed bird feet peeking out from under the flounce on her skirt. I swallowed, and said nothing. Who was I to talk?

I glanced over at Heidar, who had managed to prop himself up on some pillows. "I thought 'elf' was pejorative."

He scowled. "It is."

"You'll be fine," she said kindly, patting my cheek. "Get some rest and don't let that one make you upset." She said the last glaring at Heidar, then turned and made a hopping sort of exit. A black feather blew out from beneath her skirts and floated slowly to the floor.

"Harpy," Heidar said, before I could ask. He moved around, trying to find some comfortable position, but finally gave up. "I think we need to talk." I looked at him warily. I wasn't sure I was ready to talk about what had happened yet. I wasn't sure I ever would be. "If I am stuck in enemy territory with someone, I would like to at least know who – or what – she is," he was saying. "You could start by explaining what you did to those guards."

"Which guards?" I had a vision of exploding trees and burning silver hair.

"The ones in the village, shortly after we arrived. I meant to ask you about it before but I... was distracted."

I relaxed slightly. Anything that didn't involve scales claws or fathers, I could handle. "I told you. I'm a projective null."

"Nulls block magic. That was not blocking it!"

"It's never happened that way before." I struggled for words that would make sense. "Usually, it just... goes somewhere inside me, like I absorb it somehow, and then it's gone. I've never been able to... redirect it... before."

He didn't look like he believed me. "You used it as a weapon."

I started to shrug, but stopped because it hurt. My whole right side felt sore, like I'd swum a marathon using only one arm. "It was considered one, a long time ago. Nulls used to serve as bodyguards to anybody worried about a magical assault. They brought down the wards guarding their enemies' lands, and some of the strongest stopped entire battles just by walking onto the field. But that was before the Harvesters almost wiped us out."

"To make null bombs."

"Yeah. In the eyes of most of the supernatural community, I'm not a person, I'm a weapon. And the sooner they drain me into one of their bombs the better."

"But your family protected you," Heidar said, more softly. He seemed to realize he'd hit a nerve.

"If you call trying to sell me to the Fey protection."

"I assumed they did so to keep you away from the Harvesters. If you were part of a powerful Fey family – "

I laughed, but it sounded bitter. "My welfare was not foremost in Father's mind."

I sat up and found that I could move with no trouble except for a little stiffness. Someone had put me in a white nightgown liberally trimmed with lace – not my style – but I didn't feel like complaining. I sat on the edge of the bed and looked at poor, beat-up Heidar. Normally, I didn't like talking about my family history, but under the circumstances, I thought it might be relevant.

"My father was always too ambitious for his own good, especially in politics," I said, grimacing a little at the understatement. "When he discovered that Jonas Marsden, the mage who headed up the Great Council, was retiring, he decided he would have the top spot himself or die trying." It ended up the latter, but the prize glittered so brightly that it had blinded him to the risks.