My name is Randall Eric Ddraik.
I'm a Dragon.
I'm currently falling from the top floor of a forty-story hotel in downtown Los Angeles, after being thrown off the balcony of my client’s suite.
I really don’t want to die.
Why don’t I just glide gently to the ground, or fly away into the night? Because I’m also half-human. A brief description is probably in order.
I'm six foot five, weigh in at two-twenty, blessed with a strong jaw, sharp nose, and high cheekbones. My hair is a dark reddish-brown and my eyes are emerald green. The color of a Scottish hillside my mom used to say... sorry, not relevant now. The important point you need to take away here, I don’t have wings.
But I digress, I was falling to my death I believe.
Time slowed to a crawl as I sailed over the railing, and every detail snapped into sharp focus. I saw the faces of the men hurling me to my death, all of them sharing the same look, warrior’s courage and righteous triumph. They’re Vanatori Drakon. Literally translated, Dragon Hunters. They’re assholes.
I saw my client, Annalisa VanSusstern, watching in horror as I was launched into the night sky. Her dazzling amber-colored eyes wide with confusion and fear. A man’s hand clamped over her mouth to suppress the scream trying to escape it. She’s not just a client, she’s in my care, which meant I had taken an oath upon my life as a Dragon to keep her safe and free from harm. Yes, I do realize I’m doing a suck job of it right now. Shut up.
The last thing I saw as I pinwheeled into space and the balcony disappeared from view, was the man holding her. He was tall, wrapped in a long black trench coat. His skin was porcelain pale, and his eyes were white. All white. They seared into my memory like a red-hot brand. Not their lack of color but the look in them. It was sadness.
I should have sensed him long before I saw him, because he wasn’t like the other men. He was Half-kin, a Dragon, like me. What in the name of bloody fuck all was a Dragon doing with Vanatori, and why hadn’t I sensed him?
I didn’t have time to think about it though, because falling and all.
I dropped past the thirty-seventh floor.
My mind was consumed by a single screaming thought: I don’t want to die!
As I passed the thirty-fifth floor, I twisted and flipped over in mid-air, assuming a sky-diver’s free-fall position. Arms out and bent up at the elbows, legs bent up at the knees. If I was gonna die I would damn sure face it head-on. Far beneath me, but rapidly approaching, the water of the pool sparkled from underwater lights. I was going to smash into the concrete deck surrounding it.
I don’t want to die.
Involuntarily, a primal scream began building deep inside me. My Death Roar. I tried to fight it back, hoping that if I could prevent it from escaping my mouth, I could somehow prevent myself from said smash. My mouth wouldn’t listen to my brain, and my lips began to part on their own, a low growl emanating from my throat. Stupid lips.
Goddammit… I don’t want to die.
Before my mouth opened completely, I caught a glimmer of light rocketing towards me from below. As I dropped past the thirty-third floor I focused on the light, revealing the tiny form of Tatiana Fynfire. A name right out of a Tolkien book I know, but her name, nonetheless.
Her long bluish-blond hair whipped wildly around her head, and her large eyes were lit bright orange, matching the sparkling glow surrounding her body. She shot towards me like a tiny glowing missile. Her teeth bared in a snarl, her eyes narrowed and blazing like hot coals.
Tat’s a fae of the air, commonly known as a Sprite. I’d had her tailing Annalisa and me while we were out for the evening. She’d been in a holding pattern outside, waiting for me to come out on the balcony and give her the all-clear sign. Being thrown off was not it.
With a high-pitched yell that would have been cute under any other circumstance, she slammed into my stomach with a surprising amount of force. Tat’s significantly stronger than her just-over-a-foot-tall size lets on, and I felt ribs break as I folded in half around her tiny form.
She’d hit me at an angle, and I felt my straight downward trajectory slide sideways. She was trying to push me toward the pool. She had a ton of momentum behind her when she hit me. Add to that the lack of resistance a free-fall provides, and you’ve got a recipe for some serious midair movement.
As I hurtled past the tenth floor the deep end of the pool slid into my view and my thought suddenly changed... I might not die today! My building Death Roar turned into a mad cackle of survival.
“Roll!” she screamed.
I flipped to my side as best I could. I had been folded over Tat, trapping her with my body. The move created just enough space for her, and she broke free and streaked skyward.
As the fifth floor flashed past my periphery I screamed to myself, I am not going to die today! I willed for it to be true with every fiber of my being as the water became my worldview.
I snapped into a fetal position, trying to avoid the mother of all face plants, and in defiance of every natural instinct to tense my body, I forced it to relax. Have you ever heard of drunk drivers surviving accidents that should have broken them to pieces? It’s because their bodies are so loose and fluid that they unconsciously move with the momentum and motion of the crash instead of fighting against it. I tried desperately to apply the same principle here. I failed a little as I clenched my jaw. I’ll call it a win.
I hit the water.
Hard.
I felt more ribs break. The water twisted me wildly, something in my left shoulder snapped as I slammed back first into the bottom of the pool, and my head cracked into the plaster. A universe of stars erupted in my sight. A split second later the stars winked out as my vision narrowed to a pinpoint of light, and darkness flooded in. Despite my best efforts to hold my breath, I screamed and immediately sucked in what felt like half the pool.
I flailed weakly, trying to swim upward toward the tiny point of light still left in my vision. I became dimly aware of feeling a rough surface on my face. Bloody hell, I was swimming down not up. The white I had thought was light was really the plaster of the pool bottom. I grinned insanely as the thought ‘death by pool’ bubbled through my head, then everything faded to black.
