The old truck hit a hidden rock on the dirt road and Suzanne's eyes automatically strayed to her satchel. Her bag barely moved and she flicked her eyes back to the road. Above and around her the sky drained of color until the edges of the world seemed to be on fire. She amused herself with the thought of the planet sitting in a massive brazier, flames licking at the edges. The image was particularly fitting, she thought.
"A dragon," she said to nobody in particular. It wasn't the first time she'd said the word today. Or thought of it. Not even the hundredth time.
She'd picked her destination for its remoteness. And the mountains. Of course there had to be mountains. Nobody around for miles and miles. Dark shapes in the setting sun. Sharp teeth in the maw of the world. She smiled and her thoughts were wicked things.
As she approached the foothills, her mind wandered again to a conversation she'd had a week ago. An old high school friend had approached her; someone she hadn't heard from in almost ten years. They'd played at games when they were children and shared a kiss but grew apart as they learned what it meant to be pretty and popular and, in Martin's unfortunate case, not.
-----
"Do you," the man had stopped speaking, looked around and licked his lips nervously. "Do you remember when we were kids? Playing knights and dragons and princesses?"
She'd arched her fine eyebrows, meticulously maintained. She did remember but this wasn't the conversation she quite expected. Although, she supposed, it still could turn into the "You're single and we went to school together. How about we go out?" conversation.
"Remember," he laughed a barking little nervous laugh and then silently snarled as a large, confident man strode past. "Remember how you always wanted to be the dragon and not the princess? Because..."
"Because the princess was weak and the dragon was ferocious and free and could do whatever it wanted," she answered.
The man nodded, licking his lips. He glanced behind Suzanne and then pulled into himself and averted his eyes as a woman passed with a prancing little poodle. He continued when the woman passed. "What if," he paused again. "What if I told you there was a way?"
"I'm sorry, a way for what, exactly?" She asked.
"To be the dragon," he whispered. "To be what you were meant to be."
She watched him, waiting for him to laugh or show some sign of the joke. When he didn't, she began to wonder if he was crazy. And then she saw his hands. Sharp black claws tipped his fingers in place of fingernails. Thick brown and black fur covered the back of his knuckles and hand. When he saw her looking, Martin snatched his hand back.
"You see, don't you?" He asked her. "I found someone. He gave me what I wanted. To be fierce and strong. I took it and it changed me. You don't know what it's like, Suzanne. Oh god. Unfettered by humanity. I changed. The werewolf. I watched myself change. I ran. I hunted. I..." Again, the man laughed his curious little laugh. She'd thought it sounded insane, a barking, coughing, high pitched chuckle. He leaned forward. "I mated."
The young man rolled his shoulders and again licked his lips. His eyes never stopped moving. Watching, always watching everyone that walked by. Several times his nostrils flared to take in someone's scent.
"I have to go. Too many people. Too many smells. You don't have to believe me," he told her. "I don't care. I don't care. I saw your name on the news and I remembered. I thought I'd share but you don't have to believe me." He stood and she wondered if she should say something. But, before she could, the man dropped his shoulders and hurried away.
A small card lay on the table in front of Martin's seat. A simple card with an address within the city. She frowned at it and wondered. Finally, she took the card and called a cab.
The shop was disappointing. She'd half-expected some grandiose version of the curio shop from the beginning of the Gremlins movie but, instead, she found herself facing a cheap, faded faux Chinese import store. Cheap paper lanterns and shiny plastic swords were cluttered around with various other trash. The kind she'd expect on every corner in the city's International district. The owner sat behind his desk with the day's newspaper spread in front of him.
"Help you?" The old man asked. He wasn't Chinese, she decided. Just old. Old and white.
"I'm starting to doubt it," she muttered. "Someone I know- knew gave me your card. Said you'd given him something to change him."
"Is that what you came for?" He looked bored or dull or both, she thought.
"I came because I'm a fool, apparently. I'd played at being a dragon when I was a child and he'd said that could happen. That I could be a dragon."
The old man watched her. Without a word, he walked to the back and returned with a small vial filled with a thick, golden liquid.
"What is that?" Suzanne asked.
"What you want," he told her.
"You don't-"