Dragon Kin

02

Alicja

My Opa died last summer. Since then it's been just me and Oma in the house. My folks came down with an illness no one ever gave a proper name to, five years ago. They both died in the hospital ICU, their beds next to each other.

We are called Enedral. Or rather it was kal' enedral, and then shortened to Enedral. Sometimes people call us True Bonds or True Loves. They make it derogatory, or at least unappealing, but who isn't interested in true love?

Many fear what they don't understand — which was why I was trying very hard not to fear after we got home. Because I still didn't understand.

Oma seemed to have forgotten the whole ordeal. When I tried to bring it up, she waved her hand weakly, and said that it wasn't something she had done, and not her business. But a man, a full grown man had been snatched in front of us. To me, that was a concern.

Honestly, when I forced myself to sit down and write about it, I was alarmed that something like that could happen in the modern world. This happened outside, on the streets of New Orleans. It wasn't something I saw on YouTube.

But then, I didn't see what happened.

That took a while to realize. I had stepped in front of Oma, but turned my head away from Ben's threatening blow. Oma's vision was blocked by me being in front of her. So, he didn't just vanish, I realized.

Something took him.

Something big and powerful enough to grab a man and ... what?

On our side of the street the space was empty. Vacant. There wasn't a house for hundreds of feet. The other side of the street was lined with buildings. But that man, Ismael, was over nearby. Wouldn't he have seen? He was left looking at us.

I drew out a little map in my notebook, then studied it.

There wasn't much light out there. The moon wasn't up yet. It would be a Corn Moon when it rose. The streets didn't have good lighting. Still, where could he have been taken? In which direction?

It was like magic, I decided. What I meant by that was: the kind of magic that makes the Statue of Liberty disappear. Misdirection.

I sat up and took a drink of water. Going over my notes, I sighed. It was such a juicy distraction, and it happened to me, so that made it all the more appealing. But it wasn't what was on my mind. Did that make me a bad person? That I had things more important to me, than finding out what happened to Ben?

Maybe I should take the distraction. Delve. Look for clues. Conduct interviews. See how this weird thing has been talked about. This couldn't be the only time or even the first time that — whatever happened — happened. Stay out of my head.

According to tradition, legend, and what happens frequently with my people: we are spiritually bound to another. Each of us. When we come close to the one we are bound to as a lover, a mark appears on the inside of our left wrist. It's small. Three rises, like tiny inert bug bites. Then when we are hand in hand the mark evolves into a more complex design. It's not easy to see, even then.

That's the way the legend is told, but history has shown that sometimes they don't appear at all.

In our past, around the 1720's, it was common that those who did not show a mark by their twentieth birthday, were expelled into the world at large — out of the Enedral. Every group, it seems, has their Puritan believers, who unfortunately get the reins of governance periodically. That was ours and not our best hour certainly. Nearly wiped us out.

It also came to light — just after that period — that some people who did not get their mark might be bound to one of the Others. Those who lived outside our 'dimension' for lack of a better word. To be specific, one of the Dradam.

The Dradam were our people who lived in that other 'dimension' — branches of the family tree. Relations.

They were described in various ways. Outsiders, people outside of the Enedral, almost always deem them demons. But they aren't. They aren't angels either. They have nothing to do with those beliefs. And we don't worship them, just like we don't worship Enedral who live in Colorado, or Alaska, or Russia.

I suppose we couldn't blame them, these outsiders, since the Dradam are dragon-born. They change shapes, from human to a mix of dragon and human. Some shift into wings, horns, and armored skin. Others don't have wings, yet they are said to be able to fly anyway.

This seemed to make sense because the wing span required to lift a man into the air would be massive. Where would those wings be as a human? And how could a Dradam even walk around with wings that size? So, something else must be helping them fly — I guess.

Anyway, you can see the issue some people might take with them. With their appearance and all.

I know they are real, because there are Hunters. Part of our creed is to help keep Hunters away from them when we can. So, we no longer talk about the Dradam to outsiders. Also Opa, was a connection to the Dradam and did things for them, mostly investments and such.

I didn't want to be bound to one. Not really. No one was going to exile me into the world. Not these days. Right?

I've had dreams since I was twelve about what kind of man would be bound to me. I've invested a great deal of thought and energy into this query. In all of my imaginings, not once did he have huge wings and horns on his head. Not once. And, every time I thought about his home and family, he lived in this dimension.

Looking at my notebook and my little diagram, I took another drink of water. Maybe a distraction was better. After all, what was there to do about my marks except to rehash, over and over, what I've already hashed?

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