In The Lair of the Draca (Book 2)

In the Lair of the Draca: (Book 2) Chapter 9: Wrath of the Mother

"Dusha! Deema! Daughters! Get into my chambers this instant before I flay alive the lot of you!"

Dragura was furious. In fact, she was more than furious. She was absolutely seething. Pacing back and forth between the latticed window and her canopied bed-chamber, her usually impeccable, jade-colored robes hung haphazardly off of one shoulder and trailed the dirty ground beneath her feet, attracting dust motes and dried blood from her handmaiden Wainrak's 'accident' on the floor. Dragura's fists curled in on themselves in massive turbulence, the diamond-studded nails drawing crescent-shaped rings of blood inside her delicate palms. Even the lovely strands of her terra verte hair, usually so impeccably coiffed, hung like limp strings around a face that was so twisted with wrath that it could not longer be called beautiful, in any sense of the word. Streaks of black eye-soot trickled down her cheeks, mixed with tears, as Dragura ranted, raved, and screeched her outrage.

"My Doora has not returned!" she shrieked, once her audience had taken their customary perches on the window ledge. "She had strict orders that she was to bring that weak-hearted woman, that miserable Sashek, to me as a sacrifice! Now the entire ceremony has been delayed, and I have no one to give as a blood offering to placate the twin Moons and receive a mate! I say, what awful thing has happened? Has that wretched woman a fancy that she's gotten the best of me again? Well, I won't have it!"

Out shot a swift, angry arm across the contents of her bedside table: a mirror, a fragile jar of bloom-scented perfume, and a dish of sweet honey-coated nuts were dashed to the floor and shattered.

"This is an outrage-- no, a travesty! What have you beasts got to say for yourselves this time?" Another flick of Dragura's angry wrist. This time, the emerald-studded bangles slipped off her arm and clanked to the floor, where she proceeded to jump up and down on them like a child in the throes of tantrum. "This is not happening! This is not happening! I demand an explanation before the four of you wind up on my dinner plates!"

Dusha, Deema, Daara, and Disha ducked their massive heads in shame and anguish. The brilliant light of the Twin Moons gleamed eerily off of their iridescent green scales; stiff tails stood straight out behind like support beams to keep the Draca sisters balanced precariously on the window ledge, which were gripped by four sets of strong, sallow-colored talons. Each sister panted heavily, as  Draca did when they were nervous and insecure. Each noble set of proud, blue-veined wings quivered in anxiousness as they were stretched, extended, and then folded again, drawn into their trembling bodies like protective coverings. Deep pink tongues lolled over the pearly-whiteness of the Dracas' formidable teeth, which could have easily stripped a human being down to its skeleton in seconds.

And yet they cowered before this woman, who had eaten five of her own offspring without an ounce of mercy in the world, simply because she had been angry with the way they had gone about their duties. Who was to say what she was capable of next?

Dragura pointed. "You!" she snapped. "Dusha! You were ordered to perform a compliance check on my Doora's whereabouts and well-being as she searched for that good-for-nothing Sashek. Did you do as I asked? Have you seen what has happened to my Doora?"

Dusha shifted her thick talons and raised her slender neck in a smooth, serpentine gesture. The eyes which peered back into Dragura's were just as marine-green as the eccentric woman's who stood before them.

"Aye, I have done as you requested," Dusha admitted, in her deep-set, baritone voice which was rich with lustre and glossy elegance. "I trailed Doora for some hours at a distance which kept her from noticing that anything was amiss. But after a while it became clear--"

"What? It became clear that what? Get on with it already!" More priceless trinkets and lovely jewels harvested from the mines beneath the fortress were swept onto the floor. "So help me, you half-breed brute, if the truth does not come forth within seconds--"