Page 16 of Avelina

“That’s not what I’m asking, and you know it.” I exhaled in frustration, then decided to try his brilliant tactic from earlier. “Please,” I said, softening my voice.

He didn’t answer. He just crouched down to tie the dragon’s hind legs together tightly, then he hauled it over to the front of the cottage. He attached the rope to one of the hooks, letting the creature dangle by its feet, head down, its meaty tail flopping over the top. The metal basin sat underneath to catch blood, or entrails—or whatever.

Ew.

Rogue had reappeared from inside the cottage and plopped down, right in the doorway. He watched Aaron work.

“Aaron, I need to get home. I can’t do that without information. Please, I need your help.”

Aaron pulled out the serrated knife again. He made a shallow vertical slit from the dragon’s groin, continuing past the belly, and farther down to the neck where his crossbow bolt had killed the thing. He took a deep breath and said, “I knew someone would be there. I knew your name, that you would be from over there. I knew that a dog with your name on his collar would lead me to you. That is all.” He faced away from me as he worked and spoke, his voice quavering ever so slightly.

“How did you know all that?” I asked.

He continued butchering the dragon, his movements certain and efficient but jerky, as if he were taking his frustration out on the carcass. I waited in silence for him to answer, watching him slide his knife under the skin at the tail. He peeled the hide back a few inches on each side of the cut, then worked inch by inch to tug it away. When he finished, he murmured, “My mother told me before she disappeared. She’s . . . a seer, a precog.”

Rogue made a strange coughing noise. I barely registered it. “She’s a psychic?” I asked incredulously.

He rounded on me, his face red. He exuded that same What the hell? look I had seen earlier. I thought I had exclusive rights to that look, but he wore it like he’d invented it.

“Why can’t you understand simple things?” he demanded. “She’s a reservoir for the Precognition fragment.”

“Great, that clears things up. Thanks. Oh, by the way, what the hell is that?”

Aaron snorted derisively. “Precognition? Or fragments?” He asked the question as if the answer should be obvious and was intended to insult me.

I sighed. “Either one.” Jerk.

Aaron blinked, staring at me. Then, as if all my stupidity finally made sense to him, he whispered to himself, “Doesn’t know about fragments.”

I blew out a breath. “Of course, I do. Just stick a subject in that sentence and it’ll fix it right up.” Aaron gave me the look again. What can I say? Grammar humor isn’t for everyone. Or anyone, really.

He closed his eyes, shaking his head as he turned back to the dragon. He finished peeling the skin away from the incision, then he reached into the carcass and yanked open the sternum, producing a loud crack. The sound made me cringe, and a wave of nausea struck me. He reached inside the dragon, sliced out the windpipe, and tossed it in the basin.

“I’m gonna vomit,” I mumbled. That made me think about the dragon’s fire-vomit, and I giggled again. “Wow, you’re right. I am all over the place. What is wrong with me?”

“A perfectly constructed question,” he commented.

I narrowed my eyes. Is he using grammar humor against me? This man is more formidable than I thought. And more educated. He isn’t just some mountain man with a penchant for belted tunics.

“Huh,” I said.

He chuckled softly. “It’s my turn to ask a question.”

“Okay,” I said. “Shoot.”

“Earlier, when we were”—he paused for a moment—“eh, on the ground. Did you feel something? From me?”

I resisted the urge to make a sex joke. That might send the wrong message. “Yes. Heat, then—”

“So much grief,” he finished.

“Yes.”

He turned to face me, his hands dripping red and black fluid. “That was your fragment. Fragments are slivers of power. They are broken, fragmented, into different forms, just like light breaks into different colors. Together, they are the force that holds together our physical reality. At least, that’s what they teach in school.” Aaron raised his eyebrows and shrugged as if he weren’t convinced.

“In order to harness the power of a fragment, you must have a reservoir for that fragment, an internal container that lets you store the power. Everyone has a reservoir, though the depth and type vary. Most people have a lesser reservoir, too small to willfully exert any kind of physical effect, but on rare occasions, someone might have a greater reservoir. A greater reservoir is an unusually deep container that allows you to wield the fragment as power. It is said that people don’t just have reservoirs, but that we are them, like our minds and bodies are imbued with the quality of whatever fragment they contain, for better or worse.”

Aaron paused, thinking. This was the most he’d said since we’d met. I stared, entranced. His voice was like silk that I wanted to rub against my cheek. He was thoughtful and eloquent and used fancy words like “imbued.” Now that he was communicating and not looking at me like I was a complete idiot, he was positively captivating.

---