Dragon Mystics: Supernatural Prison 2(18)

Oh, right. Humans were weird with that “say one thing and mean another” crap. Mischa had zero actual human in her, but some of their tendencies rubbed off on her while she’d been hidden in their world.

“You want to shower first?” she asked.

I dropped myself back onto the comfy bed. “Nah, you go ahead.”

She turned away to riffle through her bag. “So do you think this place is just a sanctuary for dragon marked?”

I’d been running the possibilities through my mind since we’d entered the mountain. I had many theories. “I do get the feeling there is more to it than a simple sanctuary.” It was pretty ironic that a world which had been allegedly created to shelter supes from the wrath of the dragon king, was now used to protect his “marked” supernaturals. Someone, at some point in time, had manufactured a genius switcheroo.

Mischa continued to chatter about the different zones, leaving the bathroom door open. I mumbled and nodded, but truth be told I think I might have fallen asleep for a bit.

“Gah!” I yelled as hands shook me, bolting upright. “What? What happened?” My head swiveled left and right, but there seemed to be nothing in the room except my clean, soapy-scented sister. Her hair was damp and she had on new jeans and a long-sleeved tank.

“Your turn.” Her grin was a little wicked, as if she’d enjoyed shocking the shit out of me. Nasty. Probably payback for falling asleep on her.

I rolled off the bed, the little nap I’d had rejuvenating me. My main exhaustion was due to an egregious, horrific, shameful lack of food. I was used to eating regular meals and that had not been happening much lately. My last full meal had been … shit, at least twelve hours ago.

My bag looked to have all the essentials. I just grabbed what I needed and stepped into the blue tiled bathroom. I didn’t close the door either, naked wasn’t a big deal.

“Holy freaking hell!”

I spun around, my shirt clutched in my hands. Mischa had actually cursed so I was expecting, like, flying vultures to have descended in our room. But no, her eyes were locked on me, and suddenly I remembered the mark on my back.

She took a step closer, one hand raised as if she couldn’t stop herself from reaching out. “Is that … the dragon mark?”

I twisted so she could appreciate the full picture, it was so difficult to see in its entirety, the black and red continually moving and shifting. Almost like the shimmering scales on a dragon in flight.

“Will mine look like that?” She touched a single fingertip to one edge, I guess to see if it felt different than skin. It looked like a three dimensional image. I’d expected it to feel raised too, but it wasn’t.

“I have no idea,” I said, “Gerard did say that my mark was larger than any other he’d seen, but I don’t know about you. If the Four weren’t hunting our asses, I’d say we should get Louis to remove your spell.”

It was the only way to find out.

Mischa must have realized that I was still standing there, half naked and waiting to shower. “Sorry, I’m wasting your time,” she said, backing across the room.

I finished undressing, forcing myself not to dwell on the massive mark. The shower was awesome – large powerful jets, plenty of hot water. I washed away the last twenty-four hours and almost felt like myself as I dressed in ripped black jeans and a simple white tank. After brushing out my long hair and securing it in a ponytail, I pulled on black biker boots to finish the outfit. I was ready to go.

The bedroom was empty. I noticed Mischa had unpacked, putting our clothes into the large wardrobe. Our crap took up about an eighth of the space provided.

I could hear voices as I ventured into the living area. I was the last out; they had been waiting on me.

A knock on the door had us all spinning around. I was closest, so I started along the hall, but before I could press my hand to the panel and activate the unlocking mechanism, I was muscled out by four large pains-in-my-ass. The quads formed a line of defense before Tyson triggered the magical opening. I wedged my way through to find a male standing on the other side.

He was average height – short for a supe – and had a head full of silvery hair, another one of the mystic cloaks, only he was sans cloak, wearing a simple pair of cotton slacks and a loose-fitted white shirt.

“I am Quale.” He did not smile or encourage any sort of warm feelings, but there was something around the dark blue eyes, a few shades off purple, which told me that this guy was pretty closely linked to Louis.

The Compasses backed up a foot or two, and with a wave of Maximus’ hand, he was allowed to enter. It was pretty hard in the supernatural world to prove anyone was who they said they were. Firstly, we didn’t carry identification, and any we had was generally fake. Mostly we judged on power level and whether we could kick the stranger’s ass. If we were weaker, we proceeded with caution. If they were weaker, we didn’t really give a shit who they were.