Dragon Me To Broken Heart Read online

  DRAGON ME TO BROKEN HEART

  A Broken Heart, Oklahoma Novella

  By Michele Bardsley

  Chapter One

  “Oklahoma?” Libby Monroe stared at the map her parents rolled out on the chipped table. She tugged her sweater around her and pressed her lips together to keep from chattering. The RV was freezing thanks to a broken heater. It was just one of a million fixes needed. Her parents spent money on state-of-the-art equipment such as sensitive recorders to catch electronic voice phenomena and thermal video cameras to catch the heat signatures of ghosts. “Seriously? Oklafreakinghoma? In February?”

  “Yep. Broken Heart,” said Dora Monroe, tapping a spot on the map. “Our online forums are buzzing with constant news of activity. Sightings of Bigfoot, monster wolves, and in one instance, a flying man.”

  Elmore Monroe grinned. “Now, that would be something. Jet pack? Or…”

  Her parents began a debate about how a man would manage to zoom around the sky.

  Libby stopped short of rolling her eyes. She loved her parents. She loved their work for the Paranormal Research and Investigation Services, the organization they co-founded. However, she didn’t think every report was credible and every situation was paranormal. Her parents approached each investigation realistically and used science-based methods (and okay, the occasional psychic)—but they were so open-minded about the supernatural it was a wonder their brains hadn’t fallen out.

  “Where’s Brady?” she asked. He was good back-up when her parents got … er, enthusiastic. Braddock Hayes had joined PRIS ten years ago. He was a firm believer in the paranormal, although he never fully explained why. The most Libby had ever gotten out of him was that he’d experienced something unexplainable. He was the one who created the security protocols everyone used when on-site. Sometimes, she thought that Brady was just paranoid, but he was obviously good at his job. Plus, he had some seriously great electro-whatsits. He also had weapons. Weird ones.

  “Braddock’s with his team in Texas,” said Mom. “One of these days, we’re gonna get that Chupacabra. We have to cross Oklahoma to rendezvous with him, so Broken Heart is right on the way.”

  Woo. Libby scooted out from the bench seat and went to the temperature controls. Fifty-eight degrees? Ugh. She messed with the fan and heat settings, but nothing kicked on. She sighed. Her parents had moved on to the Bigfoot sightings. Dad was tapping away on the laptop, checking out the PRIS message boards.

  Libby put on her parka and slipped out of the RV. She crossed to the fire pit. They’d piled it with wood earlier, so it was just a matter of lighting it. She got a blaze going and sat on a camp chair, staring at the flames. Even though it had been ten years, fire still reminded her of the explosion. She wasn’t scared of fire … not any more. That awful night, she’d been thirteen, checking out an abandoned farm with her parents. Their friend Archie had been inside the decrepit old barn when it blew.

  Shivering, Libby veered off memory lane. She walked down it often enough, especially lately. She was twenty-three now, and had been living her parents’ dream—one she thought was hers, too. She wasn’t exactly qualified to do much else since her education and experience were paranormal-related. Still, she’d been thinking more and more about going off on her own—maybe it was just time. She couldn’t live forever with her parents. She wanted to date, and one day, to get married and have a family.

  Night sounds filtered into her consciousness—chirping crickets, scurrying animals, a chill wind tickling dead leaves. She shivered again, staring up at the night sky. The moon winked down at her, unaffected by her internal drama. Maybe after the Broken Heart investigation, she’d take her meager savings and go … well, somewhere. Her parents would understand. They’d even encourage her. They wanted her happiness, no matter what form it might take.

  “Hey, Libs!” called her father from the doorway of the RV. “Your mom and I are mapping out the Broken Heart investigation. How do you feel about taking the cemetery?”

  “Again?” she called. “I always get the dead people.”

  He chuckled. “So long as they don’t get you.”

  Her dad shut the door with a tinny bang. Libby scooted closer to the fire then returned her gaze to the sky as if her future were there, waiting for her among the stars.

  Chapter Two

  “Synd is back,” said Elder Raine.

  Sylphina put down her delicate china teacup, careful not to slosh the hot liquid. Fear spiderwebbed through her. Her brother was back? Unable to form words around the knot in her throat, she took a moment to study the drawing room. That’s what they called it—the drawing room. Brocade curtains, dark antique furniture, doilies sitting like snowflakes on the overstuffed furniture, and ceramic knickknacks crowding every surface.

  “How?” she asked.

  “We don’t know.” Raine’s gaze was as steady as always, but lurking in those teal depths was sadness. Sylphina knew then that her life was forfeit. An event Raine had predicted to her sorrow on the day of Sylphina and Synd’s births five-hundred years before.

  Sylphina studied her friend and mentor. Raine was dressed in the traditional blue robes that denoted her status as a Council member. Her silver hair was plaited into a single braid that was so long it coiled behind her chair. Her teal eyes burned with ancient dragonfire. The gold-rope necklace and to the fire-red jewel rested just above her bosom. Raine clung to the traditions of their kind, though dragons were nearly extinct.

  Next to her, the only other remaining member of the old Council, Elder Amethyst, sat wringing her hands. She was nearly as old as Raine. In human form, she looked in her early sixties. She wore a crocheted white sweater with a pink dragon on it, purple knit pants, and thick-soled orthopedic shoes. Her lilac eyes were filled with dread.

  “Oh, my,” she said. “Oh, my.”

  Sylphina clasped her hands, mostly to keep them from trembling. After Synd made a bargain with a powerful demon, he lost what few morals he had. In his quest for power, he didn’t care who he hurt—humans, dragons, parakind. The Elders had tracked him down, subdued him and encased him in stone. They did it for her. Synd wanted from his sister what he had given away for power. He wanted Sylphina’s essence, and now … now he was free to pursue her. To take it from her. Synd had always been the stronger one, even before he gave in to the dark magic that now ruled him.

  “I’ll call Ash and make arrangements,” said Sylphina.

  “The soul shifter?” Amethyst’s eyes went wide. “She’s … not very nice.”

  “Most assassins aren’t,” agreed Sylphina dryly. “But she’s got a moral code and a sense of honor. Giving her my soul and my powers is far better than Synd taking them.” Her gaze met Raine’s. “Is there any way…”

  “I fear not,” said Raine. “He will find you. He always does.”

  “Then the sacrifice is necessary.”

  “For good to endure, sacrifice always necessary.”

  “Oh, my darling!” Amethyst popped off the couch and wrapped Sylphina in a warm, lavender-scented hug. “May your journey to Yalinia be a peaceful one.”

  “Thank you, Elder.”

  Amethyst let go, sniffling. She drew a tissue out of her sweater sleeve and wiped her nose.

  Raine rose and embraced Sylphina. “I, too, wish you a peaceful journey, child.”

  She nodded. “My thanks.”

  “One last thing,” said Raine, regret tingeing her voice. “You must draw your brother away from us.”

  “Of course.” Sylphina had already planned to go as far from her home as possible. Synd wouldn’t blink an eyelash at harming the Elders. Hate burned in him as bright and hot as his own dragonfire.

  “There is a place in Okla
homa. The town is called Broken Heart. I believe the vampires there will help you. Ruadan is familiar with our kind—and Ash could meet you there."

  “What if Synd finds me there?”

  “Broken Heart knows how to handle the dangers,” said Raine. “They are a strong community.” She stroked Sylphina’s red hair, her gaze wet with unshed tears. “Though you cannot be with us during your transition perhaps being with other immortals will be of some comfort.”

  Sylphina lowered her head, a sign of respect, but also to hide her own tears. How could she be comforted?

  She was going to die.

  Alone.

  Chapter Three

  Libby lay facedown in the dirt, spitting out grass and rocks. Something warm and wet trickled down her temple, and she rubbed at it with trembling fingers.

  Blood.

  “Oh, my God! Libby!”

  Her mother’s terrified voice sounded muffled. Libby shook her head and realized the fiery blast just moments earlier had muted her hearing. Dora stumbled toward her, her own face streaked with dirt and blood.

  Libby’s whole body ached as she rolled onto her side and stared at the fire consuming the old barn. Even though she was yards away and protected by the tree line, the heat was intense. Her mother reached her and pulled her into her arms, hugging her so tight Libby couldn’t breathe.

  She stared over her mother’s shoulder, unable to look away from the fire as it reached jagged, flickering fingers toward the blackened sky.

  Libby woke up, the thin coverlet clenched between her fists. She sat up and flipped on the bedside lap. Her heart raced and sweat beaded her upper lip. Damn it. She hadn’t dreamed about the night of the bombing for a long time. Wasn’t ten years enough time to just to get over it, already?

  The motel’s bed was rock-hard and the pillows flat, but it was still better than the RV’s couch. Combing through her hair with quivering fingers, she tried not to wonder if the dream’s reappearance was a portent. She’d had a knot in her gut ever since her parents had announced the Broken Heart investigation.

  She went into the bathroom and poured a glass of water from the tap. It tasted metallic, but she gulped it down anyway. She returned to the bed and flopped down, so not ready to go back to sleep. The digital alarm clock blinked 2:08 a.m. Usually, sleeping in a motel felt like heaven, especially after being confined to the RV for weeks at a time. Tomorrow, they would cross Oklahoma’s border. Her parents wanted to stop in Tulsa and help with a haunted house investigation then … Broken Heart.

  Screw sleep. She grabbed her laptop and booted it up. Then she logged on to the PRIS forums and looked up the Broken Heart messages. Comments about everything from vampires to Bigfoot had been posted. She scrolled through the vampire posts. She had a healthy respect for the unknown, for the mysterious. But vampires? Really? She couldn’t fathom the idea of some undead guy sucking necks for food. Her mother had written a whole volume about the deamhan fola. Dora believed in vampires. In fact, she and Brady had worked out an odd sort of hypnosis (coupled with one of Brady’s cranial electro whatsits) that she said guaranteed they couldn’t be glamoured by the undead.

  Hoo-kay.

  Under the “Miscellaneous” category, she found a reference to a zombie attack.

  My friend Ryan went to Broken Heart to visit his grandma’s grave. He said that some people wouldn’t let him into town because there was a gas leak. He snuck through the woods and got into the cemetery. This dead dude scared the shit out of him. His skin was all gross and peeling off. He didn’t have no eyes, either. Then these bad-ass wolves came running in and tried to eat him. Ryan ran away and said he’d never go back. You ask me, Broken Heart is full of weird shit.

  Zombies? Riiight.

  With a sigh, Libby shut off the computer and climbed back into bed. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe in the paranormal or that she hadn’t seen some seriously strange crap … it was more that feeling she wasn’t living her own dream. Was paranormal investigation really gonna be her life’s work? And though she wasn’t psychic or really all that intuitive, every time she thought about Broken Heart, her stomach knotted.

  She fluffed the pillows and flicked off the lamp. Then she stared into the dark until she fell into restless sleep.

  Chapter Four

  The fireball hit the BMW on the passenger side. The car skidded to the gravel shoulder, the flames so hot, Sylphina felt her dragon roar with longing. She dove out and rolled, the rocks biting into her skin. She popped to her feet and scanned the sky.

  Synd was not there.

  Sylphina studied the car as it melted into a heap of twisted metal. A warning shot. Her brother hadn’t wanted to kill her. Just freak her out.

  Mission accomplished.

  She was at least an hour away from Broken Heart with no way to get there—at least not by human means.

  Sylphina realized she would have to morph into her dragon, which was exactly what Synd wanted. Killing her in her human form wouldn’t be as much of a challenge, and Synd loved a challenge. Plus, he loved being a dragon, considering his human side weak and nearly useless.

  Staring up into the night sky, she renewed her vow: Synd would not get her powers. No matter what she had to do.

  For good to endure, sacrifice is always necessary.

  * * *

  Libby’s dad parked the rental car on the side of the road. It was edging toward ten p.m. Unlike most of the highway they’d traveled on the way here, this section had no working lights. It was the kind of dark that set her teeth on edge, a cold, bleak night that kept secrets.

  Broken Heart’s secrets.

  “We really gotta walk?” Libby groused as she zipped up her parka.

  “Other investigators haven’t had much luck driving into the town,” said her mother. “They get stopped and re-routed. More than a few remember driving through it without stopping, but nothing else.”

  Mom’s theory: Vampire glamour.

  Hoo-kay.

  They exited the car. The cold was like knives, sharp and unrelenting, even in her lungs. Their breath puffed out into little white clouds. Her dad stamped his feet.

  “Use the walkie talkie feature of your cell phone. You’re Crystal One,” said Mom. “I’m Ruby Two, and your dad’s Sapphire Three.”

  Libby stared at her mom. “And we can’t use our names because…”

  “Brady suggested this as a security measure,” said Mom. “I got to pick the code names.”

  Terrific. Libby heaved her purse over her shoulder and tucked the cell phone into her coat pocket.

  Her father pointed across the road and toward the pocket of woods. “Go through there and stay to the north. You should reach the cemetery in about fifteen, twenty minutes.”

  “Did you read about the zombie attack on the forum?” asked Libby.

  “Oh, zombies are basically harmless,” said Mom. “You know that. They’re not exactly quick on their feet.”

  “If they even have feet,” pointed out her dad. “Sometimes they crawl toward you. Then you really have the advantage.”

  “Thanks for the advice,” said Libby drolly. “Where will you be?”

  “We’re sticking to the tree line on the south side and following the road toward the convenience store.”

  Mom and Dad gave her a hug, then set off.

  Libby crossed the empty highway and entered the forest. She walked at a brisk pace. The only sounds in the strangely silent forest were her shoes kicking up dead leaves and snapping twigs.

  Every so often, she felt as though someone—or something—was watching her. Her flashlight beam barely cut through the thick darkness. She’d been on plenty of investigations on her own. This one was no different. Her heart thumped with fear and excitement. Maybe this time they would find something real. And finally walk away with irrefutable proof of the supernatural. Hell, at this point, she’d gladly shake Bigfoot’s hand. Anything so her parents could get the proof that would make their life’s work worthwhile.


  She’d been walking a good ten minutes when she heard a howl.

  Not just any howl. A spine-tingling, blood-curdling yowl that echoed through the forest. Like an idiot, she stopped, slowly turning in a circle to determine the source.

  This is when the horror-movie heroine gets whacked by the ax murderer.

  The howl came again. Then another, and another. Three blending into one.

  That was definitely not Bigfoot.

  Libby picked up the pace, walking as fast as she could without tripping over fallen logs and other forest debris. In the distance, she saw the trees fade into a clearing.

  The cemetery.

  Right now, zombies were looking pretty good. She clutched her flashlight and her purse, and ran … toward Broken Heart.

  Thank you for reading DRAGON ME TO BROKEN HEART, the prequel novella to WAIT TILL YOUR VAMPIRE GETS HOME. Begin the adventure!

 

 

  Michele Bardsley, Dragon Me To Broken Heart

  Thanks for reading the books on GrayCity.Net