Fifth floor. The door of the elevator opens and I step out onto the deep burgundy carpet of the corridor. The lights and the yellow illumination of the room numbers cast a dim glow on the beige walls.
A mix of modern and antique.
I inhale the scent of the expensive curtains and leather sofas.
Room 512.
Before I can make it, a whisper of words reaches my ears from the direction of the stairs. I praise myself for leaving the helmet on. I don’t want to be interacted with, so I turn the next corner onto the stairs leading up, where I lean against the railing and listen. It’s past 2am; I imagined these players would at least sleep normally during tournament season.
“… and I’ve been terrified of playing against him all year. When he announced he was coming, I seriously considered not attending.”
“It would have been a mistake, after all, he did blow it last year too.”
“True, but who would have thought it would happen a second time? Poor Anonymous, they’ve had it with him… No one will sign him next year for sure. “
I turn the room card back and forth in my pocket. Quickly, non-stop. They’re getting closer… What if they come this way? I should keep moving. The last thing I need is for my white hair to be associated with Jev’s character! I asked them not to model it after me, but…
“Come on, Devin! Why can’t I look at you while you’re making someone else happy?”
Idiot.
To my relief, the boys stop in the middle of the hallway. They wish each other good luck and say goodbye. I wait for the doors to close, then hurry on as quietly and quickly as I can to 512.
I reach for the shiny door handle, but my motion freezes in mid-air.
Why am I doing this? Jev is a dragon.
Love?
Come on…
Gratitude, responsibility?
Sympathy. Compassion that comes from the same emotion that keeps me from falling in love with her.
The look of admiration in her eyes, her touch hungry for love…
I haven’t felt so guilty in a long time.
I swipe the card against the sensor, open the door quietly and close it behind me. Maybe she’s asleep…
No. He is huddled on the edge of the untouched bed, his back to me, as if looking out the wall-sized window at the lights of shops, billboards and skyscrapers. Only his hunched back, trembling shoulders and soft sobs suggest that he is completely oblivious to the outside world.
I take off my helmet, jacket and boots and go inside. Cautiously, afraid that the room might go up in blue-white flames at any moment.
I sit down next to him without saying a word, the mattress sinking in underneath me.
He doesn’t speak to me, but with the silence, he creeps into my mind, taking away my autonomy, stripping my soul bare. It is not the kind of nakedness that I voluntarily give to another, but rather when something creeping under my skin uninvited, lying there and watching until even my own thoughts embarrass me.
I feel no anger. There is no reason. He doesn’t do it on purpose. It’s like breathing for him.
I know, because Alden is a dragon too.
And that’s exactly why I can never return the kind of love they have for me, no matter how hard I try.
Their shoulders are shaking more and more violently, their whole being is in a state of constant flux. It was as if they were waiting for my presence to unleash the raging torrent that will tear them apart again and again. Breasts and horns grow then recede, their nose turns from curved to straight and then dirty, their ears become pointed and distorted into the shapes of different animals. Scales appear on their skin, melt into fur, feathers appear, and then they become human-like again.
A cacophony of earthly and otherworldly creatures, of body parts. The ability they alone possess. That which makes them unique.
And outsider.
A dragon who eats meatloaf made of human flesh… Yet, they allow themselves to be wounded by the very same species.
Why?
For the same reason I cut off my wings after Alden gave up on me and set me free. For the same reason I studied hard and spasmed every nerve to consolidate my Power and become a Warden. For hiding my identity and trying to make people believe I’m not a monster.
For the illusion of normality.
It’s also why they dare the impossible, why they publicly disgrace themselves, why they tolerate being slandered – even though their brainwaves could incinerate the entire city in a fraction of a second.
And they would be lonelier than ever.
Maybe that’s what binds us. The desire to belong to someone.
I put my arms around them, pulling close. They rest their forehead on my chest, their clawed hands stroke in their hair, long and short, wavy and straight.
“They hate me…” they whispers. “All of them. The team I begged my way into, my fans… But what could I do…? They were all in my head. “
They rip into their scalp as if to force the madness into shape.
“All the eighteen thousand mind in the arena… The security guards, the workers, the staff… My team was talking to me through the headset too. But I couldn’t listen. Because I heard everyone and everything. I couldn’t… I just couldn’t do anything.
Maybe we don’t have to. Just accept that we can’t live as humans.
“You’re wrong. This game allowed me to live like any other being. Without the thoughts of others overriding my own. Without the insanity. And now I’ve lost all of this. “
“You can always take on a new identity.”
“I’ve been changing and running for thousands of years. But I can’t escape myself.”
“Then don’t.”
“I tried, but it’s impossible.”
“According to the rules of human, maybe. But you’re not mortal. Even if you’ve lived among them for so long that you think you are one now.”
They embraces and hugs me. Still sobbing.
After a long time, when their tears have soaked my sweater, they settle into a female form.
I have no idea when we fell backwards or how long she’s been sleeping on my chest. The turtleneck, damp with tears and saliva on my skin, is becoming more and more uncomfortable.
Damn, I’m thinking again. I have no intention of waking her, so I quickly stare at a corner of the ceiling, looking for a fixed point. I empty my mind and simply exist.
The first rays of the sun rise above the city.
Talia’s face appears before me. I must kill her. It’s almost time for me to leave and get back.
Jev turns to her other side.
I’m thinking too loud, she must have heard me… She hears this too… She’ll ask me what happened yesterday. But she’s silent, buries herself in the hollow of my armpit, then embraces my arm.
Perhaps her own pain is greater than her concern for my problem.
“You’re right,” she says in a sleep-roughened woman’s voice.
“Hm?” I indicate that I can’t see inside her head.
“I can’t give up. I tried to blend in, to become one with the role of Metamorph and forget my identity. But I can’t. I must stand up for myself and my own well-being. At any cost. To hell with roles, rules, sportsmanship. I’m already considered a fraud. It’s time to take advantage of who I am.”
She gets a handkerchief from the bedside table, wipes her face. Takes another one and brushes it against my sweater, but as soon as she realizes it’s not the amount that could be soaked up like that, she pulls her hand back.
“I’m sorry,” she bows her head. “If you like, I’ll buy you one as soon as the shops open. Or I can wash it for you, unless you want to ride home in a Metamorph-logo T-shirt.”
“Leave it, I can take it. It’ll have time to dry in the six hours of driving wind. You should start thinking about what you’re going to do.
“Actually, I have a plan,” he hands me a handkerchief.
I raise an eyebrow.
“Do you remember that game designer I showed you on one of the live broadcasts?”
“The one who draws inspiration from the afterlife?”
“Yeah. He’s right here in the hotel, somewhere above us.”
“Do we know what we’re looking for?”
“No, but he’s definitely not human.”
I roll up my sleeve, take the handkerchief, but leave my palm extended.
“Two, please!”
And I got two. I press them to my temple, then close my eyes and let my horns pierce through my scalp. The handkerchiefs become drenched, the world expands, and my consciousness is flooded with the energy fields of the surrounding life forms. In the next room, four humans and a doxi are fast asleep. Despite the early hour, a cavalcade of colour is swirling in the street. In the adjacent building, a harpy seems to be in a distraught state of mind towards the end of their night shift.
But the person I’m looking for is here, in this building. Above us. I’m scanning the next floor. Forty-nine people. Higher still. And higher. A mass of grayness.
On the tenth floor, I stumble upon the orange aura of a druid. Is that him? I focus on the Alliance tattoo on my arm and my skin heats up along the lines of the seal.
It’s him!
“Tenth floor, fourth room on the left. If I’m counting right, that’s Room 1020. Druid. He’s feeling good, though slightly tired. Alone.”
“Does he have Power? I don’t feel like dropping dead as soon as he sees me…”
I’m concentrating on the wing part of my tattoo, which is a challenge with my faded Power.
“I can’t feel it. But maybe that’s just my weakness… Though, considering the small number of Wardens the Alliance employs in the Underworld, I doubt they’d put one in the entertainment industry. Probably just a Watcher or Sentinel.”
“I agree.”
I pull back my horns, fill up the blood that’s left in their place as best I can, then give the handkerchief back to Jev.
Red on white… The waves of the past wash over me. The loss, the loneliness, the pain. The memory of all the people I couldn’t save. Blood, guilt…
I need a shower, right now. And fast, if I want to make it back by the time Talia’s done at school.
My chest itches. My bloody fingers touch a clammy substance, damp with tears and saliva.
“Does your offer of a wash still stand?”