Excerpt from The Book of Dragons:
Healers (Breed): lightweights; these dragons are not meant for combat and usually have far more delicate bones and scales. They are gentle by nature, sometimes going to great lengths to avoid violence. Healers have the ability to sense illness and injury in living creatures, be it human, dragon, animal, or even plant, and they have a keen 'sixth sense' that allows them to find the best treatment. They are not as territorial as others, more willing to share and allow company. However, like all dragons, they are extremely protective, and though they will resent it, will not hesitate to defend their kin, home, and young with violence. Dragons of this breed are also often allowed into other Dragons' territory, as Healers will often live as nomads, passing through the lands, making well the ill and sickly, and are generally said to bring well-being to those who treat them with respect. Healer dragon eggs are opalescent in colour, paling to white at the time of hatching, and the shells are prized in medicine. Nests are created in hollowed out areas of earth, lined with moss, feathers, or anything suitably soft as Hatchlings are born with very thin, sensitive scales that thicken with age; they usually lay only two eggs at a time. These dragons raise their Hatchlings together as a pair, with equal responsibility to the nest.
By the time it was time for work in the morning, Cutter had probably drunk his weight in coffee, hadn't slept a wink, and his hand ached from making notes in one of his journals.
The Book he'd been left...he'd learned more in a night of reading than he had with all his questions over the past eight months, including things that he'd have never even considered asking. There was everything in it, it seemed. The paleontologist in him was amazed and enraptured by the delicate, detailed drawings of the dragon anatomy in all different breeds, from the remarkable muscle system of a shadowrunner to the endlessly small, finite joints of the wing bones in a skydancer. There were chapters on behavioural issues, the delicacies of their language, even how to raise orphaned Hatchlings, covering everything from art to magic to culture to history. They were far from the great fire-breathing brutes portrayed in legend. They had a language that was almost as intricate and complex as Chinese characters, rituals and gods and traditions, not to mention a strict etiquette. His own notes might as well have been doodles in crayon.
He was leafing through the chapter on Dragon Magic, incredulous, when a paragraph caught his eye.
Rune Mark: a form of tracking spell that any adult Dragon is capable of casting, which appears on the skin of the marked individual like a tattoo.
One hand drifted up to touch his arm where, beneath his shirt sleeve, the beautiful tattoo-like mark lay. Awed, he looked back at the passage, reading the rest of it.
Most Rune Marks are placed upon Hatchlings by their Mother but are also exchanged between mated pairs. The caster of the Rune Mark is able to 'sense' the one marked, locate them, the strength of the mark growing as the Bond between them strengthens as well. The mark can only be tracked by the one who initially cast the spell (see pg. 332 for Personalised Magic) and each one is unique to the individual. Most begin very small and simple, but they will spread and grow in intricacy as the Bond is strengthened. Rune Marks are a sign of implicit trust as the one marked will be connected to the dragon that cast the mark; whatever pain that is inflicted upon either the dragon or the marked being will be felt by the other, as well as other powerful emotions such as fear, anxiety, and anger. It also gives the marked protection from some lesser magics and allows for faster healing ability. The stronger the Bond becomes, the stronger these attributes will grow.
Out of sudden curiosity, he pulled his sleeve up and studied the...Rune Mark. True enough, it had grown, a few new curls and spirals stretching further up his bicep. He traced a finger along one long swirling line, the implications of the new "tattoo" just starting to sink in. A sign of implicit trust, the book had said. Some days, he wasn't even sure if Claudia liked him, much less trusted him, and yet, she'd given him a magical mark that said she did, and greatly.
Another, more traitorous part of his mind noted that the book also said that Rune Marks were shared by mated pairs, but he hastily shoved that thought away. He was not going to think about it like that, no chance in hell. She'd probably gut him first. And if she didn't, odds were that Ryan would do it for her.
Discarding thoughts of evisceration, he looked down at his watch and cursed softly. He'd only just have time to shower and change clothes before he had to report to the ARC now. He briefly considered taking the book with him, but for some reason, a sudden protective impulse came over him. No, he wouldn't take it with him, not just yet. He marked his place with a page from his notes, then hid the book in the false bottom of the drawer of his desk, though he wasn't sure exactly who he was hiding it from.
Grabbing his keys, he headed out the door.
Claudia still could not believe her own audacity.
She had given him her Mark, something entirely unheard of. No Human had ever borne the Rune Mark of a Dragon before. Not only was it magic – highly illegal in that time – but it was also a sign that she trusted him, cared for him, and if anyone were to harm him, they would have to answer to her, as it also meant he was under her protection. And that Mark would only continue to grow and strengthen as she continued to trust him more and more, despite the lifetime of instinct and ingrained training that screamed for her not to. And despite herself, she was doubting. What if he did not wish to be Marked, didn't want to bear the sign of her magic on him? She would remove it if he asked her to, but it would hurt, in more ways than one.
She had not told anyone about what she'd done, and in a way, she was almost ashamed to, ashamed that she could so easily give a Human so rare and precious a blessing as a Rune Mark. Still, a greater part of her, that new, still forming part that Nick had helped to build with all his kindness and encouragement, protested that he had done more than enough to deserve her trust and protection, that he was willing to stand against the Keepers in order to make her and her kin safe.
She paced around her room, shoving both hands back through her hair and muttering indecisively to herself. Her fingers caught on something, and very gently, she pulled the red silk ribbon from her hair, letting it glide through her fingers. Remembering where it'd come from, she looked to the small crystal figurine on the shelf, right where she'd placed it, and that starting-to-become familiar sensation of bubbling warmth bloomed in the pit of her stomach, the corners of her mouth pulling upwards. Smiling, she carefully re-wove the ribbon into her hair, then took the figurine from the shelf and lay in the middle of her nest to admire it, purring softly in her throat.
Yes...Nick Cutter had earned her trust.
The new part of her that was her tether to him prickled with awareness, and Claudia twisted to her feet, carefully replacing her treasure before leaving the office. Nick was coming down the hallway, muttering and grumbling to himself, a scowl set in his features. Her hearts sank briefly, but when he looked up at her, the scowl melted into a smile. "Claudia, good morning."
"Good morning," she replied with a small smile in return. "Why did you look upset just now? Is there something wrong?"
"Mick bloody Harper is what's wrong," he replied, smile fading at the name.
She fell into step beside him as he walked towards his office. "Who or what is a Mick Harper?" she inquired.
He shrugged off his jacket and threw it in the general direction of his desk chair as they entered his office, flicking on the lights that illuminated the matrix in a web of gleaming silver lines and curves. "Mick Harper is a leech, a wart on the nose of humanity. He's a reporter or a journalist, whatever, for some paper. Evening News, I do believe. He was at an anomaly event once, the mammoth on the M25, and now he's been after us like a fly on a cow's arse, trying to get the story of the anomalies," he replied tersely. "And the scummy bastard apparently found my address somewhere and showed up at my house this morning when I was trying to leave. I almost thought I'd have to run him over, and I was sort of hoping I could." He leant over the computer on his desk for a moment, then leant back and pointed to the screen. It showed a photo of an olive-skinned man with dark hair. "So if you see this bugger anywhere near the ARC, make sure you tell the guards so they can keep his sorry carcass out."
Claudia studied the face of the man closely, a slight prickle of defenciveness tracing through her. This little Human thought to threaten her ARC, her home, with his own ambition? Perhaps if she did see him, she would not report to the guards at all and simply solve the problem herself...
"Not that I'm disagreeing with you, but killing him wouldn't quite fix the issue," Nick remarked, an amused grin on his face, and Claudia realised she must've voiced her thoughts aloud. Her ears warmed, and she ducked her head slightly. "But the next time he shows up, I'll be sure to let you do the honour of escorting him out."
The morning passed quite uneventfully, with no sign of an anomaly. Claudia prodded and cajoled Nick into doing his paperwork on time, refusing to let him work on his matrix until he did so. She sat on the edge of the table, accidentally-on-purpose playing with one of the metal rods from the matrix. He gave her a mock-baleful glare over the desk. "Fine, but I won't turn it in on time, or Lester will start expecting it to be that way all the time," he said, a playful glint in his eye.
Claudia rolled her eyes, wondering if the rod was long enough for her to rap him on the head from here, but instead the ADD began going off, loud, demanding sirens interrupting the silence.
"Oh, thank God," Nick sighed as he pushed back from the desk.
"I will make you finish when we get back," Claudia informed him primly.
"Oh, my God. It's huge," Stephen uttered in awed disbelief.
The entire team stood staring at the enormous anomaly which occupied most of the aircraft hangar, including Claudia, keeping to her promise of accompanying them on call-outs. Cutter began to step towards it, but her hand curled around his elbow. "Try it, and I'll sit on you until it closes," she warned, none-too-playfully. He knew how serious she was now, after reading the book all night – Dragons might not sleep on beds of gold and gems, but they were notoriously possessive creatures. The Mark on his arm was a declaration to all the rest of the world that he was hers.
"I just wanted to get a reading. The magnetic field must be incredible," he replied sheepishly. She arched one eyebrow in an incredibly Spock-ish expression, both a query and a rebuke at the same time, but she released his arm, hand lowering to her side. As he was studying the readings, Claudia made a disconcerted noise from behind him, and he felt a hand curl around his arm once more. "I didn't even go towards it," he protested.
"It is not that. I can smell...something," she murmured back, voice lowered. She wasn't looking at him, either, but over towards the unobtrusive crates and boxes that were stacked up along the walls of the warehouse, probably shipments of parts and such. "There are three...no, four Humans over there. Behind the crates. Three males and a female. I believe they're watching us." Loosening her hold on his arm, she turned slightly and made a gesture towards Becker, gaining his attention; she tilted her head slightly in the direction of the crates, surreptitiously holding up four fingers.
The captain frowned, then nodded in understanding. Using silent gestures, he made for his men to block the entrance and form a loose semi-circle around the crates. Claudia slunk around, moving on silent bare feet, sliding into an easy hunter's crouch as she sidled around the crates to the edge. One pale arm shot behind them with the speed of a striking cobra. There was a loud, quite unmanly squeal, and then she was pulling out none other than Mick Harper himself, having a firm grasp on the back of his neck and quite a bit of his hair as well. With him was a cameraman laden with equipment, a man that looked like a safari guide, and a woman with a rather unpleasant demeanor about her.
"Son of a bitch," Cutter exclaimed.
Claudia looked from Harper to him, her eyes full of a quite mischievous sort of glee. "May I solve our problem now?" she asked oh-so-innocently.