~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Part 13:

Iry Lupine jumped at the thundering on his door. His next actions might have seemed strange to an onlooker; he picked up a knife that looked as though it could hack elephants apart and his eyes a curiously bright grey-brown of evening sandstorms, stood behind the door. The knocking had stopped and there was only a patient silence as he flung the door open and slammed the knife towards the person with lightning fast reflexes.

Iry felt hands catch his arm and next thing he knew, he was lying on his back on the ground with an irate female glaring at him and waving his knife like she knew how to use it. Appearances, he decided, were deceptive. Alisha didn't look like she could throw a basketball, let alone a fully-grown werewolf.

"Iry, it's me," Alisha said before he could retaliate, holding up her hands in defence and throwing the knife onto the ground. For all he was a lone wolf, there were parts of his nature Iry could never change. She had seen it before in others like him. You could take the wolf out of the wild, but there would always be wild in the wolf.

He muttered something she shouldn't have understood but which she clearly did, from the slight curve of her lips. The 'wolf vaulted up, rubbing his wrist. "I know that now," he said sourly.

"Do you get a lot of insurance salesmen round here or something?" she said, glancing around the copse. His house was right in the centre of the forest, away from humans and any of the Pack, screened by trees on all sides that were like green curtains.

While she gazed around, he picked up the knife. "No, but I get a lot of the Pack decidin' to drop round after huntin' nights. You learn to be cautious here, or you don't have a life to be cautious with." He frowned at her. "An' where did you learn that nasty little trick?"

"Daybreak, of course," she answered. No affection for her old home. "They have this weird attitude about us getting ripped apart. Can't understand it myself." She smiled a little at his sullen glance. "Ju-jitsu is a required part of being sent out on assignment. Especially for humans."

"Fair enough," he said. "I suppose you'd better come in, then."

* * * *

"So what're you here for?" Iry said as he shut the door firmly. The smell of smoke hung faintly in the air. One thing Alisha had learned about the werewolf in her last visit; he was a chain smoker. "That dragon still bein' over-amorous?"

"New development," Alisha said with a sigh. "David's got a friend helping him. She's called Bahri. Know her?"

"Dragons, huh?" Iry said gleefully. "You've come to the right 'wolf. My ma used to specialise in dragon fairy tales. You had Red Ridin' Hood killin' the wolf. In Ma's stories, that upstart kid got made into bonfire fodder by Fireblade or Azhdeha."

Alisha blinked. "Oh...good." She sounded sceptical, but carried on. "She didn't hang around long, but I did learn something about her. She said she was very famous."

He snapped his fingers. "Bhari." He grinned. "Said to be very intelligent, not at all your rampagin' dinosaur type. My ma told me she was rumoured to be strange among her own people. Wonder what makes a dragon strange?"

Alisha sighed. "Never heard of her. But there was a girl called Dragon who said she knew her..."

Iry sneered. "Well, she would, wouldn't she. That one's Drax's daughter an' he was famous, too."

She ignored the interruption. "...but then, Daybreak are still learning about dragons."

Iry looked smug. "So damned Daybreakers don't know everythin'. No dragon detectors?"

Alisha grimaced, her eyes mildly amused. "The best we've got is being hit by a few megawatts of dragon-powered electricity. When your vital signs cut off, you've found your dragons."

The werewolf knocked back his drink, thinking hard. "Well, you've landed yourself in trouble this time. Bhari's one clever dragon and she's got a favourite habit that makes her harder to outthink than a vampire after a bloodfeast."

"Wonderful," she muttered. "What? Apart from being able to kill people without touching them and become anything you can name and then some?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Dream manipulator? Ever heard of 'em?" At the shake of her head, he explained. "You wouldn't have. 'Spect Daybreak thought they'd died out." At her stare, he gave her a fanged grin. "Darlin', that sort of thing's an old art. Very popular in the sixties, but it disappeared. Anyone with telepathy can control dreams easy as minds. Used to be a group of vampires an' witches over in Washington who had fun with humans. Convince 'em they were bein' hit by a car or somethin' in a dream. Convince 'em it's real and the spirit can die. Takin' the body with it. It's probably natural as breathin' to dragons."

His tone turned distinctly cold. "There was a revival in one of the big cities a few years back, a small cult of vampires, but it disappeared when a shapeshifter girl died and someone took revenge. They still don't know who."

"Why?"

That slightly sour smile. "Might have somethin' to do with the stakes through their hearts."

She whistled softly. She remembered Lord Thierry sending Morgead and Jez to keep the peace in one of the large cities that had bad shifter-vampire relations. He had mentioned something about an 'incident', hadn't he?

Iry was spinning the cigarette absently again. "It rocked the Nightworld. Dream manipulators are *dangerous*, girl. They only cause trouble." He swore as the cigarette end scored over his hand and carefully put it down, instead rattling his fingers on the arm of the chair. "But I don't think this dragon wants to kill you. Your David wouldn't let her-"

"Not kill. Make me into a dragon." she interrupted impatiently.

Shrug, brown eyes looking distant. "I don't know nothin' about that - didn't even know you could - 'course, but think about what your friend David wants from you. Then think about what this Bhari could want. There's gotta be somethin' in it for her. Dragons ain't exactly known for their generosity."

Alisha shook her head woefully, her hair falling out the loose knot she had put in into. "If I knew that, Iry, I wouldn't be asking for advice," she said, a touch of asperity colouring her voice.

"Advice?" Scepticism crossed his face. "I don't reckon you came for advice. You wouldn't have come to me."

She grimaced, remembering just why she was here. "I needed to know about dragons. And now I need to know how you fight a dream manipulator," she said ruefully, "without losing."

He had expected that, from the faint smile on his mouth. "You just need to fight them at their own game. Once you know they're manipulatin' you, they lose their power. Maybe you can control them then - they're in your mind," he offered diffidently.

"Dragons?"

"It's been done before."

She laughed shortly. "By a Wild Power! Slight difference."

"Wild Powers don't exist," the werewolf said, confusion narrowing his eyes. She stared for a moment then saw he really didn't know.

"They exist all right!" she said in ghoulish amusement. "I've met one. It's all real enough."

He sighed, and for the first time she saw age in his face. Experience that could help her not at all. "If you insist," he said in grudging concession. "Then you got one chance." He paused.

"Now is not the time for hesitation," Alisha said urgently. "I need all the help I can get."

"You got to fool her into thinkin' she's won. Maybe you got to let 'em make you a dragon. Leastways you'll have the power then. Surprise 'em."

"What?" she howled. "You must be kidding! Let them make me a dragon!"

Iry glared. "Yes, it's a funny joke I just thought up." As she began to argue, he cut her off, voice almost growling. "Look, you said yourself you can't fight a dragon. It's a gamble. An' maybe it's goin' to mean givin' up somethin' you don't want to, but..."

"It's not that simple."

"Why?" he said, eyes narrowing, words fast.

"It's not just me I've got to look after," she said quietly. "And if I get changed, I might die. And I don't know what that will do."

The werewolf groaned. "Don't tell me," he drawled sardonically. "You've found your soulmate or your long-lost brother."

"Both, actually," she said. His eyes went round as saucers and he started to laugh. "I'm not kidding."

That stopped him. "Who?" he asked, eyes greying with curiosity.

"Jepar and Cougar." He started laughing again. "Look, Iry, this is serious. If I die, what happens to Jepar? I don't know what becoming a dragon involves but...I don't want to risk it. Aren't soulmates minds supposed to be linked?"

"Yes," he said half-smiling, half-sombre. "So you an' Jepar...?"

"He doesn't know."

Iry looked confused, then his face cleared. "Ah. The Old Soul business. Then I can't help you. Sometimes, you got to take the risk. What's better, Alisha? To risk people you care for, or not to care for what you risk?" He was all serious now, looking much older, his desert sand eyes stern. "You make the choice, and have some control over what happens, or you wait for your dragons and maybe people you don't even know will die. Your dragon don't know about Jepar, right?"

"Unfortunately...yes," she said. "David will try to kill Jepar. He hates him." She shivered. "He's a monster. But I've got to convince him that I'm not in love with Jepar, that I don't care, maybe he'll leave him alone." She stood up.

"I need to think about this," she said with a sad smile. "And the Circle are waiting for me." Before she left, she gazed at him gravely. "But I think you're right. I can't let life pass me by anymore."

She had guts, Iry thought with cool approval. No sense, but guts. Though if dragon past was anything to go by, she wouldn't have them much longer.

Iry chewed his lip. "Don't get made into chutney 'cause that'll mean we all probably get the same treatment. And good luck," he said. "'Cause, believe me girl, you're goin' to need it."

* * * *

On top of a mountain, a dragon dreamed of his past. It would be the change soon, when Bhari brought Talisa to him. A change that he, too had experienced.

David y Pelathas had been different when the dragon approached him. He had been human for a start; and not the brash bold aristocrat Talisa had known. No, he was quiet, taciturn and still inwardly grieving for Talisa, though he had no grief for his now- dead father, no pride in his new status as Lord of the land. So he had been stunned when the creature approached him.

It had been in the guise of a young woman, with looks that were as exotic as they were startling. Her dark skin stood out, her obvious poise and lack of feminine subservience even more so. She had sought him out, appearing in the family halls when he was alone.

He had turned around and she had been there. Lounging on a chair as though she had been there some time, her eyes pensive and golden as the sands which she must surely be birthed from. He had noticed striding through the area, heard she lodged with one of the families there, but other for that, thought nothing of her.

"I would speak with you?" she said solemnly.

He had stared. "How did you do that?"

One hand waved lazily, a cat's paw swatting at the air. "You will discover that soon."

His tones had grown glacial; the aristocrat seeping through. "And you will discover the penalty for trespassing when I call the guards," he snapped.

"And not learn of your lady Talisa?" she inquired in that low accented voice.

"What?" She had stopped him short, and he had stridden over to her, catching her hands at once. "What do you know?" he said harshly. "Tell me!"

She sniggered. "It requires you to believe what you would otherwise not," she said darkly. "Another world, a-"

"I know about this Nightworld," he cut in. His eyes burned like the northern lights, strange and unholy.

"So! She told you." The woman tactfully extracted her hands from his grasp, with a casual strength that he would not have thought possible. "But did she tell you of dragons?"

At his negative, she had explained that long ago, these mighty beings with the ability to be any living being had been overruled by witches and set to slumber in the earth. All but a few; not all dragons were destructive, she illustrated carefully, some did what they had to survive. Then she sighed heavily. "Vesuvius...an unfortunate mistake. Such a waste of all that life."

She, the woman explained was one of these. But she was tired of being what was feared. She wanted to live and to do that, she said patiently, she needed to be human.

"And this has what to do with me?" David said calmly, pretending he was not at all fazed by her extraordinary story - though he did not doubt the validity of it; already she had become creatures he had only seen from afar.

"I would trade my powers for your humanity," she said quietly. "It seems to me that I have seen everything; what more can humanity achieve? I have only one thing left to know and that is death. But I will never suffer that, for we are truly immortal and unharmed by anything."

"I don't want your powers," he said dully, though something within did leap wildly at the thoughts of such immeasurable energy.

The girl laughed and he could see something that shone out from eyes that said that this was no girl at all. "But you want your lady Talisa."

"And I will not be with her by living," he said flatly. Tali was gone, and he had never missed anyone so terribly. It was no physical pain, but of all the women he had known, she was the only one who had left with his enduring love. He had done everything within his power to hold her to him and in the end, it had not been enough.

"Wrong," the girl almost sang out, beginning to pace with frantic dynamism. "Talisa is what we call an Old Soul; they exist within your race and the Nightworld. Not, it seems, within mine."

"Meaning what?" he said, beginning to wonder if this seemingly sane young woman was some kind of lunatic. If all that she had shown him was imagination and nothing more.

The girl rolled her eyes. "Meaning she will be reborn. But you, David y Pelathas," she prodded him in the chest, "will not. Unless you become immortal. I offer you that."

"How do you know?" he said suspiciously.

The girl grinned. "Always a doubter," she said cheerfully. "Mortals!" There was a manic exuberance around her now. "Did she never mention it to you?"

He paused and thought. Yes, she had. Just once, in the early stages of their relationship; she had told him that she was an Old Soul. He had asked about her apparent lack of fear of death.

"I will never truly die," she had said and he had not understood at the time.

"Do you want the risk?" the dragon girl whispered. "Or are you too afraid?"

"I fear nothing," he had replied. It was not true of course; but he knew and she knew that to show fear would be to give in to it.

"Then what do we wait for?" she had said. "Will you be a dragon and let me be mortal? Will you see your lady again?"

the thought of Tali sparked his resolve. Even the hope of seeing, even the most slender chance that she would be his, it was enough to fuel an inner fire. "Yes," he said firmly. Then a thought struck him. "She said Ieran was her soulmate..."

The girl stilled suddenly. "Yes," she said. "I have heard this. And it is true that her aura was linked to another's. I sensed that he had already gone to the other realm to await his new time. He too is an Old Soul. But there is a soulmate for everyone in the world and though the link is weak now, I remember a time when it was not. A soulmate link is an almighty power indeed, but even it can be defused. By blood, by suffering but also, David y Pelathas, by love. There are millions of you mortals on this earth who stumble around blindly seeking love and perhaps one or two of them find it with their soulmate. You could be happy with Talisa and she with you. But she will know that you hide something from her, though she will not know what. Old Souls are always perceptive."

"I will handle that," he replied. He knew how, too. If this girl did not deceive him, if he became like her, killing Ieran would be nothing. And Tali...Tali would understand.

"Then we are agreed," she said clearly. "A trade of lives."

They shook hands on it.

* * * *

And now his memory skipped forwards, to an exotic long-limbed girl some hours later, her dark skin glowing with human health and spirit, her eyes no longer true gold but a light brown, a girl who seemed so fragile. Her frown.

"You are so limited!" she said scornfully. Then corrected herself. "I am. I can see half of what I could before. How dull your room is. How slow I am," she said in mixed wonder and chagrin.

And David was dazzled by the sights he saw, barely awoken from unconsciousness from the trade, colours leaping out at him as though rainbows had burst from everything, smells vivid as sound, sounds fathomless mysteries.

And there was something new. He was hungry in a way he had never been before. A writhing, contorted craving for something that was not the polite, delicate food of humans. He said as much to the girl. She looked alarmed.

"Ah, you must feed," she said. And frowned. "I too, I think."

"What do I eat?" he said curtly, wanting to feed on something he couldn't define.

She had given him a sly, knowing smile that had made her seem for an instant, more feline than human. But she had lost that aura of power and she had become...yes, prey. "Life," she said.

"Life." He repeated it in confusion.

"Humans. Animals. Anything with meat, but humans are best." She bared her teeth in a slightly derisive gesture. "I put some food in a cave for you."

"Where?" he demanded with a new sharpness in his voice that he couldn't control.

She stared insolently. "Take it from my mind, y Pelathas, though I suppose you are just David now. We have no need of last names."

"From your mind?"

She had been genuinely exasperated. "Telepathy, fool. It is a skill dragon-children know from birth. Still, I have never made a dragon before. I suppose it is harder for you. Think of your mind as a hand, or an arrow might be more appropriate. My mind is your target; hit me."

After he failed, she finally gave him verbal instructions. It was some time before David mastered telepathy, or nay of the dragons' powers; it was impossible to hold his human form once he managed that first change. The girl had taught him, patiently over and over before she announced she was moving on. He had let her...but not without a souvenir.

She had left minus a finger, and regretting her reckless manner to David. She had spoken to him as though he were a peasant, treated him with none of the respect he was used to but because she was his maker, he let her live. Because he was a dragon, because if she had spoke true about that, the rest might true - because she would give him Tali.

Now he could be hers eternally. So mote it be.