Page 43 of Draco's Fire

Dain laughed bitterly and then let out a long sigh.

"You might not be Mr. Stallard. You don't have the killer instinct required for it. I knew it the moment I saw you face to face in the woods. Oh, you may have wanted to kill me, but you've taken this pacifism bent to heart. More so than most proclaimed pacifists.

"I have to respect that. Even from a monster, I have to respect that. You're committed. Which makes you a perfect target for so many reasons." The amount of joy Dain seemed to take in taunting Tyson was its own level of unnerving.

"You don't fight back, no matter the cost. But you also encourage peace—the concept, not the organization. You lull people into a false sense of security." Dain chuckled. "A false sense of hope." Dain's chuckle turned into a laugh.

"People see you and think there's a potential for all shifters to be fluffy little bunnies like you. Able to keep their anger in check, hesitant if not unwilling to use their abilities."

Dain brought the scalpel closer to Tyson, who began trashing.

"I'm just going to get a small skin sample. Though if you keep moving like that, it could end up being a much larger one. Either suits my needs in the end. I get to have enough to run some more tests.

Tyson stilled as Dain carefully cut a small patch of skin from Tyson's bicep. Tyson had felt worse pain, but there was a level of humiliation to this. He had the power to end it but couldn't use it.

Dain put the small piece of skin in some kind of sterile container and then began bandaging the wound he left on Tyson.

The dragon shifter looked up at his captor and tormenter with an expression of utter confusion.

"Oh, I don't want to waste any more blood than I have to. I want the bleeding to stop. It's why I didn't cut too deep. Sure, I could collect samples from your corpse, but I don't know if that will change any of the test results.

Dain put the sample into some sort of machine that Tyson couldn't decipher the use of. This man was going to take him apart, piece by piece.

It was enough to make Tyson start to question his philosophy. Would even self-defense or protecting others turn him back into that monster, the monster men like Dain saw, or the monster Tyson saw in himself.

Could he save himself and save Shayla without falling down that same dark path again? Or was self-defense going to be the excuse that would let him do the next awful act? Where did that line end? Tyson had grown as a person since Vietnam.

He wasn't sure if he was doing more mental gymnastics to justify violence or abstain from it. Pacifism didn't have to mean nothing. He might be able to control himself once he unleashed his power and took care of this one, an immediate threat to his and Shayla's safety.

But there would be others. There would always be others coming for metahumans. Where did the cycle end?

"Huh," Dain said from his station in front of the machine. "You know what, Tyson, your commitment to pacifism, might actually lead to peace. Once I unlock your secrets, the war can be over before it even starts."

Twenty-Eight

Shayla

Shayla heard Tyson's voice as the world put itself back together around her. She could still feel the burning sting of iron, but Tyson was there so things would be safe. But then, as more pieces fell into place, she heard another voice. That voice.

The shooter was there. When Shayla lifted her head, she saw him talking, almost amicably with Tyson. Or at least the human's tone was amicable. Tyson sounded about ready to combust.

Then she looked to her right and saw there was an IV in her arm. From the burning around the needle, she was pretty sure that the man, who finally introduced himself as Dain, was pumping her full of iron to keep her powers in check.

But she had the iron antidote that Gil had given her, or at least she had had it. There was enough in the bottle to counteract the effects. Four pills remained, and all she needed was three. As silently as she could, she maneuvered her bound hand and the rest of her body until she could reach into her coat pocket.

There it was, the pill bottle. Dain had been arrogant and hadn't thought she'd have any way out of his trap. And that arrogance would cost him.

One-handed, she managed to wrestle the top of the bottle off. Then she poured the remaining pills into her coat pocket. Fishing out the first pill, she set it on her thumb before flicking it into the air and catching it in her mouth.

All those movie nights fling popcorn into her mouth paid off. She could already feel the burn lessen. It wasn't enough to sense her deep connection to the fae magic that was her birthright, but she was getting close. The second pill fell into her mouth just as easily as the first.

Unfortunately, she overdid it for the third, and it went skittering across the floor. Shayla lay very still. The sound was minuscule, so it wasn't likely Dain had heard it. Still, she waited until she heard Dain talking about taking a skin sample from Tyson before she continued.

She fished the last pill out of her pocket and hoped she wasn't going to miss this time. The medicine landed in her mouth. And she felt her blood cool as the iron in her system was neutralized enough for her to use her magic.

First, she spun an illusion that she was still lying in bed, unmoving. Then she beseeched the natural parts of the leather bonds to loosen, and they did. Once she finished unstrapping herself from the table, she pulled the IV out.

The wound still burned hot, and her arm was bleeding from where the needle had been. But considering everything, that was a minor inconvenience. Her illusion held fast, and she moved silently. Dain had placed Tyson's skin sample into some machine and looked wrapped up in whatever data he was gathering from it.

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