Malachite (Patreon)

Something from a while ago. I love Lee and Xander, I really should do more with them.

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There’s a buzz from the intercom. “Inmate #691, to the front, please.”

I grumble and get to my feet, stepping from my tiny bedroom into the tiny cell. I face forward with a practiced expression of vague disinterest. In addition to the normal guard, who I expected, there’s a young man in a suit. His demeanor, and the piercing gaze of his eyes, remind me much of the warden. A relative, perhaps?

“And which one is this?” he asks. There is no window and no bars keeping me here; nothing quite so ephemeral as metal or glass will do. “Floor six is magical creatures, right?”

“Mythical.” the guard corrects. Oh boy. Here we go again.

“What’s the difference?”

“Scale,” the guard says, as if he’s getting off to this. “Mythical creatures transcend culture and are more fundamental to the world. Only some places have lake monsters, but shapeshifters like lycanthropes show up all over the world.”

“I see,” the suited man says, clearly not understanding at all. “So what is he?”

“I can hear you, you know,” I say, looking at the floor to their left.

“So what are you?”

“Dragon.”

He arches an eyebrow. “You don’t look like a dragon.”

“A big flying lizard wouldn’t fit in a twelve-by-sixteen cell, now would it?”

“Don’t get testy,” snaps the guard. “Show the nice man your arm.”

I roll my eyes behind my cap but with some focus reveal the claws beneath my mammalian facade. I let them drip with something strikingly green, like how people think toxic waste looks, but is basically harmless. Then I return my arm to normal.

“Satisfied?” I ask.

“What kind of dragon? I’ve never seen that shade of green before.”

“Malachite,” the guard says. “I’m sure you’re familiar.”

The man looks at me with a gaze that again feels like the warden, like I’m a prey animal he’s sizing up. An unsettling feeling for an apex predator. “Leave us,” he says, not turning away but clearly speaking to the guard.

“Sir, I’m not sure-”

“Leave us.” He says again, just a tiny bit more insistently. The guard leaves in a bit of a huff.

“Do you know why I’m here?” the man asks me casually.

“No,” I say. “I don’t get many visitors.”

“I can’t imagine you do. Why are you here? The security here doesn’t seem adequate for a dragon of your bloodline.”

“I want answers from you as well. Why are you here? What do you want from me?”

“We can trade off. I’m here looking for a bodyguard. Someone more dangerous than any human.”

“You’re not going to let me out.” I say.

“Is that a threat or a warning?”

“It’s a prediction. People who come here don’t tend to get let out.”

“But you can leave whenever you like, if you’re really a malachite,” he counters. “You stay here of your own volition. Why?”

“Where would I go?” I ask. “Alone, a fugitive, a failure to my family. I’m not naive enough to expect sympathy from strangers. At least here I’ve got a warm bed and hot food and no knives in my back.”

He chuckles. “You are quite austere for a dragon.”

I huff indignantly. “You don’t know shit about austerity or dragons.”

“Teach me, then,” he says. “I’m willing to learn.”

I scowl. “I’m not a fool. If I go with you it’s a different cell but the same damn chains. You can’t buy my freedom and I doubt you even want that.”

He blinks and pulls out his phone. He makes a call, not breaking eye contact.

“Hello, uncle. I have a question, what’s the bail on inmate #691?”

A pause.

“Really, okay. Yes. No. No. Yes. I’m playing it by ear. Fine. Good? Good.”

He hangs up. “Your bail’s been paid. You’re free to go. I’ll offer you a path forward, but I won’t make you take it.”

“You’re insane,” I say.

“Maybe.”

“How much was it? The bail.”

“You don’t want to know. It’s worth it, though, even if I never see you again.”

“Man, fuck you.”

The warden’s nephew takes a step back. “I’m trying to do the right thing.”

I step to the edge of the cell. “Listen, ape. You are playing a game without knowing the rules and the penalty for fucking up is a painful, gory death. You are not saving me, you’re just dragging me down with you. I don’t want to leave!”

I punctuate my rant with a left hook, expecting to bounce off the cell’s barrier with a dramatic but harmless wobble.

My fist doesn’t stop at the threshold. I don’t know who’s more surprised. I can’t stop the punch, but I angle down to hit his chest instead of his face. As smarmy as he is, I’m not interested in breaking his nose.

He staggers back from the blow, toppling to the floor with a grunt. I follow, momentum carrying me down with him. Another grunt as I land on top of him. I roll off instantly but don’t move further.

“…Sorry.” I say quietly, not getting to my feet. “Didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“That was a pretty wicked punch for something not meant to hurt.”

“Didn’t think the barrier would go down so fast.”

I’m tapped on the shoulder by a foot. “I’m Xander, by the way,” the stranger I have just assaulted says. He’s offering me a hand up.

I begrudgingly take it, dusting off my jumpsuit as if the place was dirty or I cared about that. “Lee.”

I turn my attention to my cell. Suddenly I find it rather small. “You’re really serious, huh?”

Whatever Xander was going to say is interrupted by a blaring alarm. A commotion two floors down; the post-biologicals. A riot. Quaint.

“We need to move,” I say, already running away from the chaos. It’s going to burn out quickly, but it spreads fast. “I’m not interested in another week in solitary.”

Xander struggles to keep up; he’s more athletic than he looks, but he’s still just a human. “Why are you running? You’re free.”

“The guys with guns don’t know that,” I counter, shoving through a wraith bound to a cinder block. Xander ducks around her as she re-forms.

As I run I tear off my inhibitors, which is both a massive relief and vertigo-inducing. I don’t want to go all-out, it’s been so long, but I need a little help.

Malachite dragons don’t have wings. We do, however, have excellent climbing skills. I look up; levels five through one stretch up to the surface. Easy enough by myself, but… I look back to Xander. Right now, in a situation outside of his control, he’s easy prey.

Fine. “Xander!” I shout. It’s already getting loud. “You got a key?”

He nods, a flash of that perfect confidence on his face. I point to a staff elevator which hasn’t been torn off. No walls, just enough room for a small party, good enough. I shoulder check a ghoul eyeing Xander like a starving dog and join him. We stand there for a second as Xander fiddles with the controls.

“Are we going up?”

“Yes, give me a sec…” Xander says, taking his keycard out of the slot, turning it around, and trying again.

I kick another undead whatever back. A ghast or something. “We really have to get moving.”

“I know! Just… there!”

The elevator begins climbing up the wall sedately. A skeleton I vaguely recognize is trying to haul their way up; they give me a wink.

“No trouble?”

The skeleton nods. I start hoisting them onto the platform as Xander backs away. There’s a thud from below, and a second later I’m holding nothing but a hand as the other bones clatter down to the floor. I drop the hand as a significantly more imposing inmate hauls himself up onto the elevator.

“Miss me, snake?” a topheavy devil asks. His smirk pisses me off.

“Not particularly. I don’t want trouble. There’s no reason we can’t share.”

“What a shame,” he says, throwing a quick punch, “cause I want lots of trouble.”

I dodge the blow and slash at his flank with freshly-grown claws. The blow connects, but it’s superficial. Still enough.

The malachite bloodline’s most feared skill is knowing exactly how to kill anything, and how to make it. A little essence tells me all I need to know to bring this idiot to his knees. No way to generate holy water, unfortunately, but there are other ways to make him sting.

He slashes with a bladed tail, I parry with a talon. The platform is too small for a real fight, and I can’t let him get close to Xander, so I have to play extremely defensively. Let him bleed out as I prepare.

He grabs me by the chest and headbutts me with his buffalo horns, which I’m pretty sure gives me a concussion. I shove him away and my head feels like it’s going to burst. Yeah, definitely a concussion. Fine. The brute has a weakness, as they always do; honey, of all things. Hard to synthesize in my current state, but not impossible.

With my last bit of strength, I jab a talon into his chest and inject a burst of honeysuckle-sweet sugar water. I hit the floor, and the demon lands on top of me. He’s screaming too loudly to be in fighting shape, but even the piercing sound begins to fade.

I come to in a car. A nice car. “Ugh,” I say. There’s an ice pack on my head. “Where’s my hat?”

Xander looks down at me. “Your hat? It’s right here.” He waves it.

“Gimme,” I say, trying to shake the ice pack off.

He removes the ice pack, sets the hat over my face, then replaces the pack. Good enough, I guess.

“Where are we? What happened after the fight?”

“We’re heading to my place. Medical staff on the top floor patched you up and sent me off with your unconscious body. Too much going on already, I guess.”

“Cool. Yeah, okay.” My head is still killing me, but it’s down to a throbbing pressure versus the previous stabbing pain.

“Thanks for getting me out of there,” Xander says. He’s inspecting a cold iron band, which may or may not be the one I tossed away.

“I guess I could say the same,” I say, and fake-laugh. Every syllable stings.

“Who was that guy?” Xander asks. “The devil. Sounded like you two have a history.”

“No fucking clue,” I say, and then I pass out again.