Rook

waking monster. I had a twinge of last-minute doubt. Dragons had ravaged Europe before, killing untold numbers. In front of us was the last of a dynasty that had faded by the fourteenth century. An eleventh-hour surge of the bloodlines, and now we were watching it emerge.
    I sensed the movement within the shell. Muscles flexed against their containment, and mine flexed in unconscious sympathy. I felt the stirrings of panic in my stomach. Normally, to use my powers I need to be touching someone. Occasionally, when someone is under major physical or mental pressure, I get hints of that person. But this was different. My fingers hooked into claws, and I strained against my own muscles to straighten them out. I wanted to spread my wings and scream into the air.
    Bittner had fallen silent, but we could all see the egg rocking slightly. Then a claw cut through the shell, stabbing like a stiletto. It was neat, controlled, slicing through the egg and peeling off six-inch-thick sections. In a shockingly short amount of time, the egg had fallen away and we could see a mass of brown scales. Bittner spread his arms and the dragon uncurled, limbs stretching, tendons snapping into place. A serpentine neck drew itself out and up. Massive, fanlike wings were unfurled up into the sky. We watched, spellbound.
    “My God,” whispered Alrich.
    Bittner’s breathing was ragged over the intercom. We heard him gasp just before the dragon threw its head back and shrieked into the night. Centuries-old lungs were cut by air for the first time. Eyes opened and saw their first light. And I felt it all. It screamed again, louder, and we all clapped our hands over our ears.
    “Rook Thomas?” Cahill asked uncertainly, and I saw that she was ready to give the order to the snipers.
    “No!” shouted Bittner, whirling around to face us. “You must not! The dragon and I are bonding! We share a unique rap—” He was cut off abruptly as the dragon reached out and languidly clawed his head off.
    I clapped my hands to my mouth, but my eyes were glued to the tableau. Around me the room reacted. People stood up, knocking their chairs over. Some shouted. One or two were ill. Alrich burst out laughing. Anthony put his hand on my shoulder as if to guide me away, and Cahill shrieked into the radio, giving the order to attack. In front of us, the courtyard was filled with flashes as the soldiers opened fire. Bullets swept through, and the glass flexed as bullets ricocheted off the dragon. I’d given orders for the strongest reinforced glass possible; these were the kind of windows the pope sat behind. Smoke curled up in front of us, and the dragon was lost to view. Its tail slapped against the glass then disappeared back into the clouds. Then a torrent of fire burst through, illuminating the smoke and the snow.
    “Status? Status!” Cahill was shouting. There was no answer, and the smoke slowly cleared. The dragon was rearing back on its hind legs, unharmed, fanning its wings gently. Around the courtyard lay the scattered bodies of soldiers. Some lay on the roof, burning. There were bodies on theground, torn apart. Against our window, a man hung down, eviscerated, his insides painting the glass red.
    “Orrrr… fuck,” said Anthony behind me. The dragon reached out, plucked up half a guardsman, and began to devour it messily. With weak fingers, I opened my mobile phone and dialed.
    “This is Rook Thomas. Can you hear me, Monica?”
    “Yes, ma’am” came her voice. In the background the wind whistled, and I pictured her, bundled up tight against the cold, her hair tied back, watching the stars wheel above her as she waited patiently, standing on nothing. The dragon’s head swung down and around, and through the mirrored glass, it saw us. I felt its muscles tense and its talons slide out.
    “It’s gone badly. Begin now, please.” I was proud that my voice didn’t shake.
    “Yes, ma’am.” Monica hung up, and I turned to Pawn Cahill, who was staring in shock at the various parts of her troops.
    “Pawn Cahill, close the shutters please.” She stared at me, not processing, and I grabbed her hand. “Close the shutters!” A shock passed through her body; she looked at me with widening eyes and slapped at the controls at her side. Our view of the dragon was cut off as massive iron curtains rolled up out of the ground.
    “Thomas, what the hell is going on?” demanded Sir Henry, grabbing me roughly by the shoulder and turning me to face him.