A Fifth Daughter [Book 1: The Dragon Rider]

“Memory-loss… damage… careful…”

“Lie… pain…”

“Cai… Angel…”

“Talpa… Werewolf… forget…”

“Shh…”

A hand brushes mine and I cringe, the image of gold-grey eyes coming to mind, before the face morphs into one of pure agony and suddenly blood is coating everything.

I sit up with a silent scream on my lips and an aching pulse behind my eyes at the sudden invasion of bright white light. That’s all I can see. That white light follows me wherever I look.

“Smoke, it’s okay.” Someone soothes. “Tell Mom she’s awake.” That’s Carma’s voice, and the hand touching mine suddenly has a much kinder face, one with worried green eyes and disarrayed blonde hair. I frown, and then realize I’m looking right at her and the white light has moved to stay with the fixture on the ceiling.

The door in the far corner, beside closed curtains to the hallway of – I’m guessing – a hospital, opens and Mom enters with Tempest on her heels.

“Smoke, how are you feeling?” I stare at Mom. The face I remember is harsher, more defined from years of dealing with seven kids, but now her features are tired, softer, as if years of being a worried mother have finally caught up with her.

Her question catches up to me: How am I feeling?

Like I’ve been… the comparison escapes me… something about being run over or beaten. I’m not sure. Maybe both

Instead of trying to actually remember the phrase, I hash out; “I feel fine.” Wow, lie of the year. “What happened?” I try to remember myself.

An image of towering walls and turrets enter my thoughts. We were at Rosemont Castle. Flowers and pews, walking down the aisle, standing on the stairs. I was at a wedding – no I was in a wedding. White dress and Carma’s smiling face. I was at Carma’s wedding. And then I draw a blank.

“You collapsed at the wedding.” Mom says. Tempest behind her twitches obviously. Her nose scrunches up and her right eyebrow goes into her hairline.

Lie. The thought enters my mind so suddenly that I’m thrown off guard for a moment. Why would Mom lie to me? She has no reason to. But there’s that small doubt, so small that I barely register that it’s there, but I feel it eat away at the cautious part of my brain anyways, even as I try to ignore the nagging.

“Oh,” I frown, then turn to Carma, “Was it before or after you said your vows?”

Carma isn’t listening to me. She’s staring at the floor, her eyes glassy; proclaiming she’s on the verge of tears.

I guess it was before the vows.

LIE.

I almost jump at the thought. Not because of its sudden reappearance, but because of the voice behind it. That wasn’t my voice. It was much too masculine to be mine.

What the heck is going on?

“It was after.” Mom answers, her voice quiet amongst my thoughts.

“Then why is…?” I gesture toward Carma and wince as my side snitches. I must have taken quite the fall and bruised a few ribs.

“It’s nothing Smoke,” Carma answers, wiping at her eyes. The tears don’t stop. “Nothing at all.”

LIE!

“Okay.” I pause, trying not to frown as the thought becomes louder and more pronounced. It is definitely not mine. “How long have I been out?”

“A while.” Mom says, “You hit your head pretty hard.”

How long is a while?

“What do you remember?” Tempest asks, stepping forward, her voice quiet, but curious. I don’t miss the look Mom gives her; the watch-what-you’re-saying look. I frown at both the look and the question.

I try to think back to the wedding, try to remember feeling faint. But all that comes to mind is a blank black hole. As if all the memories have been buried so deep into my mind that even I can’t access them.

“Umm… not much.” Why am I lying? I don’t remember anything. Why do I feel the need to lie?

Mom nods, but Tempest suddenly looks very pale, her body tense.

“Are you okay?” I ask Tempest.

She nods, her eyes very wide and unfocused. “It’s the hospital smell,” she waves a hand in front of her face; her nose curls up even more, “I think I’m going to step out for a bit.”

“I’ll join you.” Carma says. Together they leave. Now I’m left with Mom and my nerves are going haywire. Something is warning me. Or it could be someone, as the voice in my head continues to mumble in its masculine lilt. I can’t understand it and it’s becoming impossible to think with the constant noise.

My sisters are barely out the door before it opens again and Eaton walks in. He’s covered in dirt and blood, his hair a mixture of silver, black, red mud. His clothes are fresh though, like he had the mindset to change, but not take a shower. Wait… why is he covered in blood?

“Leave.” He commands, looking at Mom with a glare that’d kill armies.

“I will leave when I am right and ready to, Mr. Knight.” Mom answers, defiant as ever. “Besides you can’t force me to leave my own daughter.”

“I said, leave.” The power in his voice has me wanting to jump and dash from the room. That’s the voice of someone knowing they’re stronger than whoever they’re commanding. He bares his teeth, shiny canines showing, and a low growl rumbles from his throat. That’s the voice of an Alpha.

Mom probably gives herself whiplash as she spins around and disappears from the room as quickly as Eaton appeared. He clicks the lock into place behind her, and then turns those silver eyes to me.

That’s when I realize that I haven’t reacted at all.

I didn’t object to him commanding my mother around. I’m not surprised that he’s here, that he has the sudden aura of a Werewolf. In fact, if anything I feel more relaxed around him than I did with my own family.

I frown at the bed sheets. Strange.

“Smoke.” Eaton’s voice is cautious now, his steps slow as he moves to take Carma’s vacated seat.

“I didn’t faint, did I?” I mumble quietly, glancing at the gauze wrapped around my right hand, restricting any movement. Somehow I know it’s not wrapped because I broke it fainting.

He shakes his head; those bloodied, silver locks swaying. “Not in the way she probably told you, no.”

“What’s going on?” My throat scratches up, and something sharp nags on the edge of my mind.

Eaton sighs as he relaxes back in the chair. Exhaustion is clear in his silver gaze, which seems to shine brighter than the moon as he glances up at the ceiling, hanging his head against the chair back. “What did she tell you?”

I frown. My thoughts are slow, as if they’re running through malaises. “She said that I fainted during the wedding.” That coming out of my own mouth sounds so foreign that I immediately feel like I just told the biggest lie in history.

LIAR! Yells that voice in my head again. I flinch at the intensity of it.

“Cai’s trying to make contact, isn’t he?” Eaton asks, sitting forward. “The Angel really did a number on both of you.”

Cai…? Blue eyes. Cai…? Black scales. Cai… Snarky attitude. Oh…CAI! My dragon. Why – no – how could I have forgotten about him? He lives in the back of my mind all the time. Why have I suppressed him? Why wasn’t he there when I woke up?

Why isn’t he here now?

Why can’t I hear, or feel him?

And what the heck is Angel?

“He informed me of what Allied was doing,” Eaton whispers, like he’s gauging my reaction. There isn’t anything to see. I’m too preoccupied to even think about what Eaton is implying, or what my mother has been saying. I feel empty. Without Cai filling my head, I feel one sided, half full, half empty; void.

“Where is he?”

Eaton stands at my accusing tone, his hands out in a defending manner as if I’ll jump up and punch him. “He’s outside, and he’s fine. But I need you to tell me if Allied told you anything else.”

I shake my head ‘no’ and relax back on the stiff bed, the smell of bleach is strong in my nostrils, but the tang of blood is stronger. I run a hand through my hair, and freeze; the thoughts of Cai flying out the window as I’m faced with a new situation.

What happened to my long black hair?

Near panic sets in and I push both hands over my head, the locks short and dirty under my fingers. “Um…” I mumble; trying to think back to if I cut my hair for the wedding.

No. No, I didn’t. I had it up in a bun and some fell out before I walked down the aisle.

So, when did I get it cut?

“Oh, yeah,” Eaton cringes, “that… Uh… I guess you really don’t remember anything, do you?”

“What’s to remember?” I sound slightly hysterical, and I’m still running my fingers through my short hair. It’s cropped to my head and I can feel the grain of blood fleck off from the roots.

“Smoke,” Eaton starts calmly; sitting down again. He talks slowly, pronouncing each word that falls like a death bell to my ears, “Davenport attacked the reception and you almost died. Do you really not remember any of that?”

Uh… do I remember almost dying? “No.”

I toss my legs over the rim of the hospital bed; planting my feet on the solid floor. I don’t even remember putting that action into motion, but I’m standing as soon as Eaton’s hands fall to my shoulders.

“Woah, Smoke, where are you going?”

“I need…”

Why am I out of breath?

“I need…”

Why does my side burn in pain?

“To see…”

It doesn’t matter, I need, “Cai.”

“No,” Eaton reprimands “Smoke, you need to sit down and take it easy.”

“No, I need… I want to see Cai now!” For the first time the demand in my voice doesn’t sound foreign, it sounds right; sounds strong; it sounds like me.

Eaton stiffens, his back ramrod straight, his arms glued to the side of his body as if I burned him. He nods, doesn’t say anything and begins to walk to the door. I’m out into the hall as soon as he flips the lock, not evening caring about his odd behavior.

I ignore my family sitting outside the room – none of them standing to try and stop me – and march down the hall.

It doesn’t take long to figure out I’m on the third floor, and it only takes a few turns and a helpful sign to find the elevator. No one stops me: The girl walking around covered in blood and wearing a destroyed black dress. In fact everyone in the halls shy away from me, either into open doors or pressing themselves against the wall. And just like Eaton’s obedience, I vaguely note how strange all of their reactions are.

Once in the elevator I get a really good and horrifying look of myself in the full length mirrors making up the double doors. I have nothing to compare myself to except perhaps a stitched up zombie… or death… maybe someone who just survived a blood bath. My dress is mostly intact. The multiple layers make it deceiving though. The only obvious destruction done to it is my side where white wrapping shows through, which explains why my chest has been aching so much. There’s the gauze around my right hand. My chin has stitches climbing around it and up toward the curl of my jaw, but there are no other obvious injuries, except bruises and a slight panic that I can’t remember where I’ve obtained all these wounds.

The doors ding! open. My blood covered image is replaced with a very busy, very loud hospital foyer.

Adults hold in their tears and cries of anguish but the children scream. The noises of death and destruction fill the large room. Cots and makeshift beds cover every inch of the room except for the little pathways for nurses and doctors to walk around and not trample anyone.

I have to pry myself from the elevator before the doors close on me, but as soon as I’m out of the box all I want is to return to my own room.

There’s too much.

Too much of everything.

And I can’t even remember why any of this happened.

“Ma’am,” someone snaps their fingers in front of my nose and from the impatience in the voice I’d say it’s not the first time they’ve tried to get my attention. I look at the little blonde nurse in front of me. “Ma’am,” she repeats, “are you okay?”

“That is, quite possibly, the worst question you can ask anyone.” The voice that escapes through my lips is harsh and not me. The nurse visibly flinches, but then a hardness takes her young features.

“Ma’am, I think you need to return to your room.” She must have seen me exit the elevator to assume that I came from a room and not a place on the floor.

“I think you need to return to your duties.” Which reminds me, I need to get outside. A sliver of natural light catches my eye, it just happens to be behind this little nurse.

While she takes her time to either call someone to drag me back upstairs or do whatever else she can, I move around her and toward the glass doors.

“Ma’am, do I need to call security?” She’s following me. Wow, this girl is about as stubborn as I am.

“Probably, and while you’re at it tell someone there’s an empty room upstairs to be used and a lying mother who needs to be dragged out.”

“Who are you to command me?” She rounds me, blocking the last few feet I have to the doors.

“Who am I?” The question is almost insulting. That same demand from before enters my voice as I ground out through clenched teeth; “My name is Smoke Green, and I am leaving this hospital.”

Apparently my name has a certain power of its own, because she freezes and her mouth drops.

I take the chance, and leave the bleach and blood smelling confinements of the foyer.

The sun is warm on my skin as I exit the building, and then I’m running. My side burns, but the pain just wakes me up. I’m thinking clearly now, my mind is open and Cai is there. Banging on my mental walls. Demanding to be let in.

I take my walls down so quickly that they crumble under my haste and his banging.

“Finally!” Cai yells at me, “in the name of Flame, you terrified me Smoke!”

“Yeah, I scared myself. Where are you?”

“Hold still and look up.” I obey and there he is, a giant black wraith suddenly shadowing me. He doesn’t take the time to land, but instead wraps me inside his talons and shoves into the air again.

I grab the saddle stirrup and pull myself up, ignoring the stitch in my side and using Cai’s shoulder as a foothold. Then I’m up and Cai begins to climb. Not a slow, steady climb, but a vertical, rocket shooting into the air climb. The wind shoves against me, trying its hardest to drag me down. Cai doesn’t level out until we break the thick white clouds, and then we’re gliding over deceiving, fluffy pillows.

I sigh and lean forward, pressing my head to his neck and closing my eyes.

“What happened, Cai? Why can’t I remember anything?”

Cai huffs out a sigh, “Probably because you don’t want to. You’ve unconsciously suppressed the memories. I can open them for you, but it’ll be painful.”

“Was it really that bad, that my own mind has suppressed it all?” Cai doesn’t respond, but that’s enough answer for me. My side snitches again at the thought of anything being painful, but I ignore it – again. “I want some answers first.” Cai mentally nods. “What’s Angel?”

“It’s a drug – or better known as a flower – that only harms Pure Ones and their dragons – well, if they have one. When a flower it’s called Angel’s Trumpet, but Angel is its powder name.”

“How did it weaken us? Or me? I don’t have any known powers.”

“Maybe I should recharge your memory storage. You just commanded Eaton, who – well you don’t know this – is an Alpha, and I’ll explain that later. No one can command an Alpha. You also continued to exude that Alpha power as you left the hospital – which would be why you snapped at the nurse. Any Alpha in an emotional state will bite at any punch or jab, no matter how small. Anything ringing bells yet?”

“Other than the fact that you’re basically quoting my Werewolf Genetics book, no.”

He sighs, “Any other questions?”

“Why did Mom lie?”

“Any mother will lie to protect her children.” He says like it’s obvious. “She was hoping you couldn’t remember, and I bet she was hoping I wouldn’t be able to remember either.”

“Why wouldn’t we be able to remember anything?”

“Because Angel is a suppressing agent. It’s used to not only deter powers but, if strong enough, it can also erase memories, either permanently or for just a short time. It depends on how long you’re in contact with the drug. Davenport poured it into the room, hoping to weaken you. So, you were standing in it for a long time last night; everyone was worried that you wouldn’t remember anything.”

“Show me.”

“Smoke…”

“No, Cai.” I demand. “Show me. They are my memories and I want them back.”

Cai sighs and I feel his feather like touch move along the edges of my mind. And then he plunges deeper until he’s skimming the black hole in my memory.

“Hold on tight, Smoke. This is going to hurt.” Cai dives in, and everything dances with stars until it’s all black.

From the darkness a string of memories come forth.

They hit me like a herd of charging Pegasi.

When I’m finally back to myself, tears are flowing down my cheek and if it were possible I’d be suffocating Cai.

All the memoires, all of those horrible things that happened. Cai was right, I didn’t want to remember. Any of it. I’m not exactly sure where or when the wound in my side happened, or how Eaton is a Werewolf – an Alpha.

But the question that comes out isn’t about my health or Eaton’s bloodline. “Where’s Davenport?”

“He escaped the castle before all of us dragons came to.”

“Came to?”

“Something knocked us out. I would have been the only one affected by the Angel, so instead something else was used and we didn’t wake up until he’d already left.”

“Is anyone looking for him?”

“Rayn has sent out some search parties, but she’s more worried about when he’ll attack again.”

“I want on one of those search parties. He needs to be found.”

“How about you heal up some first, huh?”

That reminds me. I fiddle around the saddle, the rough leather creaking and squeaking with every movement, until I find the little cover near my knee. Hiding there is a knife. Not caring to be careful I slip it under the gauze on my hand and cut it off.

My hand is a swirl of black ink, creating nothing but curls and waves. It rolls around on my palm but I can’t feel the movement and it never drips off.

“Focus, you’ll see it.” Cai says calmly.

I touch the ink expecting it to be wet, or perhaps cold. But instead of coming off with my finger it moves of its own accord in two directions; up my fingers and down my wrist. It doesn’t irritate my skin, doesn’t feel like a fly landing on my arm, it just feels right; like water flowing down your parched throat. It stops moving at the tip of my middle finger and curls around my elbow.

Now I can see what it is.

And it is beautiful.

“Congratulation Smoke, you’re now an official Dragon Rider.”