Chapter 1 #2
The Independence Exam is a prerequisite for living and flying independently, and all fire dragons have to take it when they turn eighteen.
Zara has it coming up in a few months, and as the eldest sibling I should be the one helping her prepare, teaching her all the skills she’ll need to pass.
Instead, I’ve got my younger brother fishing me out of a bloody lake.
‘Don’t tell Zara about this,’ I sign firmly.
He quirks an eyebrow. ‘She’d understand.’
‘She’d feel guilty. She doesn’t need that.’
He tilts his head in acknowledgement. ‘She won’t find out from me.’
I empty my pockets, taking out my dead phone, my sodden wallet full of cancelled cards, and my keys. I remove the key to our parents’ house and hand it to Milo. He takes it without comment.
My parents, along with the rest of our dragon flight, disowned me when I was convicted. My dad sold my car and all but one of my hoard of bass guitars to pay legal fees. He’d have sold my Fender too if my brother hadn’t begged him not to.
Milo, who was only twenty and at university at the time, took over the rental agreement on my flat.
I hate that he had to work three jobs to be able to pay the rent until he graduated, but he was in a shit living situation at the time and insisted it was what he wanted.
Now, knowing I can go somewhere familiar? I’m grateful that he did.
I stare down at the key to the flat my brother pays rent on and the progress Pride flag keyring Zara got me four years ago. Those and my Fender are the only possessions I have of any value anymore.
Milo stays with me, keeping me company through my little pity party.
‘I need alcohol,’ I sign.
‘At home or in a pub?’ he asks, no hint of judgement in his expression.
There’s definitely a part of me that wants to head to a pub, to reassure myself that I can, that I’m free to do whatever I want.
But the larger part of me wants to go home.
Not that I can go back to the mountains of Wales where I grew up—I’m not welcome there anymore—but my other home, our little flat in the city of Birchester.
I pocket my measly belongings. ‘Home.’
He gets to his feet and offers me a hand up. I ignore it and get up on my own. It’s bad enough that he’ll be paying for virtually everything until I get back on my feet; I refuse to take more from him than absolutely necessary.
The shift comes a little easier this time, and it only takes three tries until we’re airborne again, flying north-west until we reach Birchester.
I moved to this city when I got a job at my aunt’s architecture firm after I completed my degree, and it’s a lot more lively than the village where we grew up.
Full of a mixture of supernatural species as well as two million humans, it’s a hotchpotch place that I didn’t fully appreciate before.
The city centre—the neutral zone between multiple supernatural territories—has changed. There are shiny new tower blocks in both West Green and Riverside, although our neighbourhood in the Southern Quarter is reassuringly familiar and relatively unchanged.
Except for the new garden on the roof where I used to land.
The main reason for choosing this building to live in was because of the rare roof access on the former Victorian warehouse.
No one is up there in this weather, of course, but the car park is too full to land in without crushing multiple vehicles and there’s no other convenient open space nearby.
As we circle the roof, Milo drops down, shifts about ten feet up, and lands lightly on his feet next to two huge rectangular planters. He moves to the side, beckoning me to do the same.
I used to be able to do that sort of thing just as easily, but I get the feeling this particular landing is going to be less than graceful.
Fuck it. I can survive crushing a few plant pots.
I circle around, losing height as I go, but as I drop down for a landing my dragon refuses to shift back. I pull up at the last minute, narrowly avoiding catching the railings that run around the roof space.
I exhale a giant plume of smoke and circle around to try again.
Somehow I manage it the second time, shifting from twenty feet up and landing awkwardly, half on a stack of chairs.
I stumble as the furniture collapses under my weight, losing my balance and managing to roll as I hit the ground. I get to my feet and brush myself off.
‘I meant to do that,’ I sign casually.
Milo’s lips quirk. ‘Of course. The patented Draig Landing Roll.’
‘Exactly.’ I sigh at the fact that I’ll have to pay Milo back for reimbursing the management company for the destroyed chairs on top of everything else. I could really do without any unforeseen expenses. ‘Maybe that flight training you mentioned is a good idea.’
He bites his lip to hide his smile as we head inside and down the stairs to our floor.
The neighbouring flat glimmers with the royal blue mesh of a sorcerer-woven ward, and I’m briefly distracted by the lingering scent of a tiger shifter, but when my brother stands to one side of our flat door and gestures to it, everything else falls away.
I pull out my key and try to pretend I’m fine, even though my hand shakes a little as I insert the key into the lock. Being able to unlock a door is a bigger deal than I want to admit.
Inside, things are the same but different.
The tiny console table is in the same place, but the bowl on the top where Milo puts his keys is new.
The carpet is the same, but the wall colour has changed.
The standard landlord magnolia has been replaced by a charcoal grey, which continues into the open plan space at the end of the hall.
It takes some concentration to make my skin heat without my scales breaking out, but I manage to dry my clothes without singeing anything.
Milo does the same with far less effort, of course.
As I remove my boots he hangs up his jacket, revealing a new tattoo on his left bicep.
His skin is still far less decorated than my full sleeves, but the serpent wrapping around his arm suits him.
‘Nice ink.’ I tap the snake’s tongue.
He grins. ‘Thanks. This new place called Monster Tats opened up, run by a wolf shifter named Jethro. I used my bonus.’
‘I might have to check it out.’ Although it’ll be a long time before I can afford to get a new piece. ‘So, the landlord let you redecorate?’
Sadness flickers in his eyes before he nods. ‘I got permission after Tom dumped me. It’s fine as long as we change it back before we leave.’
I frown at the reminder of his shitty ex. I hate that I couldn’t be here for him when it all went wrong.
He heads to the fridge in our tiny kitchen, pulling out two shifter-strength beers from the Lone Howl Brewery. He hands one to me and sits opposite me at the cheap four-seater table. ‘Don’t stress. I’m well and truly over him.’
This room is only just big enough for a kitchen along one wall, the square table and chairs, and a moderately sized sofa facing the TV. The dark colour suits the space, and between the strategically-placed lights and the French doors, it’s lit well enough for easy signing.
‘Feels more like a den now.’ I like the vibe; it’s much better suited to dragons.
‘Exactly.’ He sits forward in his chair, a hint of pride in his eyes.
I take a swig of my beer, relishing my first taste of something different. It’s not an exaggeration to say it’s the best beer I’ve ever had. Sitting here with my brother, sharing a drink, is the first time I’ve truly been able to relax since my arrest.
I lean back and take in the new plants he’s got, snorting at the How to Train Your Dragon poster on the wall behind the sofa, then stand and walk over to the framed pencil sketch that looks really fucking familiar.
It’s the first drawing I did of the eighteenth-century manor house that inspired me to become an architect. The lines have faded a bit over time, but the memories definitely haven’t.
I ignore the tightness in my chest and take a gulp of my beer.
Milo waves to catch my attention. ‘You’re in the spare room. I had to get rid of your desk to fit a bed in there. Your stuff is still boxed up next to your Fender. Figured you’d want to unpack it yourself.’
I give a sharp nod. I’m less bothered about my few belongings, but I’m itching to get my hands on my bass again. The vibrations soothe me like nothing else.
‘Help yourself to any food in the fridge. If you finish something, add it to the shopping list. I’ll send you a link. Your new phone is on your bed, along with a credit card linked to mine and a new bank card for your account.’ He stops when I frown.
I put my beer down on the coffee table to free up my hands. ‘You didn’t put my prison earnings in there, did you?’
I arranged to transfer my meagre savings from my pitiful prison wage to him to cover some of my basic expenses, like food. I’ll be annoyed if he’s transferred it to my bank account instead of using it.
He shrugs, palms up, like he couldn’t possibly know what I’m talking about.
I narrow my eyes, retrieve my beer, and head for my bedroom. I’ll check my account online later. Some time playing my bass has to happen first, and then I’ll see whether I have any clothes that still fit.
They’re small steps in rebuilding my life, but they’re a start.
‘Bryn!’ The grinning face of my little sister greets me from my phone screen. ‘I’m glad I caught you. Are you about to go inside? You start this morning, right?’
I smile at Zara’s careful hand movements. ‘Yeah, in about ten minutes. When do I get to see you?’
‘It might be a couple of days. Dad is determined to keep me away from you. It’s so unfair. I wanted to be there when you got released yesterday.’
Her pout makes my heart clench. Between the more sophisticated make-up she’s wearing, her new nose piercing, and the way her curly hair cascades over her shoulders, she looks so much more grown-up now.
‘I wanted that too, but we’ll see each other soon.’