Epilogue
Abaddon found himself restless and ended up outside under the full moon. He couldn’t have said what bothered, and at the same time, he had a list.
Malone remained missing, and it bothered because the doctor surely plotted his demise.
He’d yet to figure out how to visit any of the other hatchlings. Leo had been looking into purchasing a used aircraft carrier, but even if acquired, the problem would be how to get Abaddon to the airstrip and on board without being noticed.
Flying remained too dangerous, despite the fact Pip had managed to fabricate a harness that held a radar scrambler. However, as predicted, on the test flights, the battery for it failed too quickly.
Then there was the nagging sense that his knowledge was incomplete.
That there were things about the dragons and their past that he should know.
Important things. He blamed the dreams he’d been having recently for that newest worry.
One in particular kept repeating. A dragon of the darkest red scales, who slept soundly, too soundly, and didn’t wake when a human stabbed her through the eye into the brain.
The dream—nightmare—always ended in a blast of fire that woke.
He’d had that one too many times to count, and yet the more disturbing one, which woke him with shivers, was simply an aerial view of a snowy mountain.
That was it. A big hump of snow and ice that, for some reason, filled him with terror.
A noise he knew all too well tilted his head to the sky. The sound of wings beating, and yet he saw nothing as a confusing morass of darkness descended and coalesced into a dragon.
Abaddon blinked at the sight of the massive male with the mirror-like scales. He lacked horns and yet oozed a presence that led to Abaddon straightening his back and hissing, “You dare come to my territory without invitation, stranger.”
“I’m not here to harm you, Abaddon.”
“How do you know my name?”
“I know all your names. Tigger, Persephone, and Pollita.”
The stranger had obviously done his research. That didn’t bode well.
“You are here to kill me,” Abaddon stated, fearful for the first time in a while, for here was a dragon that could defeat him. It led to his stomach churning and his nostrils steaming.
“Keep that flame in your belly,” barked the big male. “I am here to talk, not harm. My name is Alistair Graham.”
“What kind of name is that?” Abaddon scoffed.
“The one I took to allow me to blend in with humans, seeing as how my original appellation, Shamash, isn’t exactly conducive for fitting in among the population.”
A puzzling thing for him to say. “I don’t understand. Fit in how? According to humans, we don’t exist.”
“Yes, the purge did a good job of wiping us from memories. But not all of us died.”
“There’s more?” The news shocked.
“Technically, me and one other. There’s been rumor of a third, but I haven’t been able to confirm it.”
“How have you managed to survive?” Abaddon couldn’t help but be curious because it wasn’t just this male’s size that indicated his advanced age, but the aura he emitted.
“As I said, I do my best to blend in. My ability is rather unique.” With that said, the dragon suddenly disappeared and, in his place, stood a man.
“That’s impossible,” Abaddon whispered. “My inherited knowledge doesn’t mention this power.”
“Because your mother was selective in what she imparted.”
“You knew my maternal progenitor?”
“Unfortunately.” Shamash grimaced. “She is dead, by the way. Killed by her servant—”
“With a sword through the eye,” Abaddon interrupted.
“How do you know that?”
“I’ve dreamt it. But why would she not have told us everything?”
“Because she was mad. Completely and utterly crazy. She’s the reason the humans rebelled and killed us all. She’s why you mistakenly think dragons are supposed to rule the world.”
“What are you talking about?” Abaddon scoffed. “It is our primary driving goal.”
“It was her goal, which she passed down to you, although whether by design or accident I couldn’t say. Your mother had a plan for her hatchlings that was less than savory.”
“Why do you use the human title of mother instead of the proper term, maternal progenitor?”
Shamash snorted. “I don’t use it because that was a term she came up with so as to ensure no attachment ever formed between you and her, as she planned to kill you to increase her power.”
The news shouldn’t have bothered. After all, to rule the world, it made sense there would be casualty, even amongst those related. But the way this Shamash spoke… Did he imply dragons were supposed to have familial bonds? “Liar. Stop speaking as if you knew my maternal progenitor.”
“But I did know Tiamat, better than I like to admit. And had I been aware of what she was doing at the time, I’d have killed her myself.”
“Sounds like you were jealous she might succeed in being supreme ruler.”
“Try angry at being used.”
“Used how?” Abaddon asked, even as the answer hit him a moment before the male spoke.
“I am your father.”
Having recently watched Star Wars, Abaddon almost screamed “No!” Only this wasn’t some dark lord trying to kill him. Yet…
“Why are you here?” Abaddon asked.
“To speak with you. Get a measure of your character. Assess if you’re a threat.”
“Going to murder me, Father?” Abaddon’s belly churned again.
“Only if you’re going to cause problems. You see, contrary to what your egg might have programmed into your brain, this world will never be ruled by dragons. The humans will purge us from the planet before they allow that to happen.”
“And if I say I won’t start a war against the humans?”
“Then I’d like for us to get to know one another. I realize the concept of family might sound odd to you, but perhaps we could be friends?”
Abaddon blinked. “Friends?”
“You know that thing where people get to know each other, share stories, experiences, provide comfort in times of need, defense if there’s danger.”
“I’m aware of the definition,” Abaddon snapped.
“Good. Because I’d really like for us to get along. You, me, the other hatchlings.”
“You’ve met them?”
Shamash shook his head. “Given you’re the de facto leader, I came to you first.”
At least he recognized Abaddon’s greatness.
“Which of the females are you planning to take for yourself?” Abaddon asked with sudden jealousy rearing its head.
Incest wasn’t a thing with dragons. While humans couldn’t interbreed family members without birthing children with birth defects, dragons were built differently, likely because their eggs were so hard to hatch.
And just because he’d not decided between Persephone and Pollita didn’t mean Abaddon wanted to share.
“None. I have a mate. If matters progress well between us, you’ll meet.”
“A stepmother?” Abaddon mocked.
Alistair shook his head. “No, but she is important to me, which means, harm her and I will end you.” Said without rancor, yet Abaddon understood the threat.
“I, too, have some servants to which I’m closely attached.”
“Ah, yes, Philippa, Maddox, and Leo, if I recall correctly.”
Abaddon nodded.
“And what of Malone?”
“What do you know of him?” Abaddon barked.
“That he’s dangerous.”
“You’ve seen him.”
“Weeks ago, in Scotland.”
“Trying to hatch an egg?”
“Not exactly. He’s dead now. Drowned, although we’ve yet to recover his body. I don’t suppose this Malone ever made mention of an ancient sleeping dragon?”
At that query, the icy mountain flashed in his mind, only, this time, Abaddon saw the shape for what it was and shivered.
“You reacted. You know something.”
He shook his head. “Not unless a dream counts.”
“Some do. Would you care to share it?”
“Perhaps later.” Then, to change the subject, he asked, “Would you like to come inside and meet the other hatchlings via video conference?”
Shamash smiled. “I would like that very much.”
And so, Abaddon invited the other dragon—his father!
—into his sanctum and contacted all the other hatchlings via a four-way call.
There was much exclamation and, strangely enough, joy in that moment.
It occurred to Abaddon that he didn’t actually want to have to kill the other hatchlings to rule the world.
For the first time since his birth, he didn’t think of how he could rule the world or how he’d have to eliminate the other dragons he’d come to like.
Instead, he began wondering if perhaps the Dragocracy’s purpose might be about saving the planet because, if what he saw in his dreams was true, then their entire existence might hinge on them working together.
In Antarctica, a continent never fully explored, a place where no plane ever crossed, no explorers ever trekked—on purpose—a mountain of ice and snow gave a slight shiver.
Blame the man who stood before it.
A man who should have been dead twice over.
A determined cryptozoologist who’d finally discovered the one thing that would finally make the world apologize for their mockery—and scream for mercy.
Yikes! Hope you’re ready for the exciting conclusion to the Dragocracy Chronicles, Escaping My Dragon.