When We Were Still Human by Vaughn Foster (best ereader for textbooks .txt) 📕

body jerked to the left. “That shirt in other locker might fit better.”

“Thanks,” Paris said, quickly slipping the article over her head.

“Reason number two…” Avia droned impatiently.

“Dragons originate from Spain,” Castor said proudly. “You speak Spanish. If you use an accent, it will help with your cover.”

Avia bobbed her head happily and stepped into the dressing room, internally gagging at the thought of women who acted that way by nature. As she passed Freya, she noticed that the woman’s costume was designed to show off her undead form. The red stripes along her high socks were actually lacerations. Her stock boob window was paired with one on her side that displayed muscle-clad ribs.

“Are you ready for tonight, señorita ?” Avia asked, carefully touching up the woman’s already perfect makeup.

“Mmhhmm. This is our first show in the South. Brother and I are very excited.”

“Happy to hear!” Avia realized she was running out of things to say and internally cursed the twins.

Freya opened her mouth to say something, then stopped, instead stifling a small giggle.

“Qué es?” Avia ran over everything that had just happened but couldn’t think of a single thing that was funny.

“I don’t want to be rude,” Freya laughed, “but your accent is terrible.”

“Latin Spanish is nothing like Spain Spanish,” Avia argued. “You two spend every free moment in France, you should know this. Hell, you should know Spain Spanish yourselves!”

“Well, we don’t,” Paris said. “Besides, you’re already dragon-ed up, and with Spain being the dragon capital… Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. I bet they won’t even notice.”

Avia swore at Gemini again, then at herself for losing that argument. “Caught me.” She smiled back and innocently twirled her hair. “My family were some of the dragons that settled in Latin America. I’ve just moved to the homeland and am trying to get their speech patterns down.”

“Oh, you don’t need to worry about that,” Freya laughed with a wave of her hand. “Back when we lived in the Northern Kingdom, no one cared about silly things like accents. Yes, the dragons were a bit haughty, but I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

Avia realized this was her chance and chose her next words carefully. “Yeah… I guess you’re right. No es fácil—” A raise of Freya’s brow told her she pronounced the ‘es’ wrong, so she continued in English. “It’s not easy, you know. Everything in the North is awesome, but so strange. Why did you and your brother leave?”

“It was a bore.”

Avia turned to see Freyr leaning on the door frame.  Like his sister, his skin tight trapeze outfit displayed streaks of red painting life into his grey skin. If not for the copious amount of hair gel—and the undead thing, of course—she may have found him kind of cute.

“He’s not wrong,” Freya said, turning back of Avia.

Freyr flashed a surprisingly white smile. “I’m never wrong. Day in and day out, it was either ridiculous amounts of responsibility, or laying on our asses doing nothing. Giving up godhood, that was a twist, but then it was the same routine again and again.”

“And that pitiful child, Roman!” Freya exclaimed with a shake of her head. “If his mother was still queen, maybe it wouldn’t have been so dreadful. Even his father would have been tolerable. But that halfling halfwit… He ruled for two years before his formal ascension. By the gods, it was hell. Couldn’t even face the people with his stupid laws, sending that advisor of his out with every public announcement…”

“Needless to say, it was time for a change,” Freyr sighed. He looked at his sister and they both laughed hysterically. Avia stared, curious if she had missed a joke. Freyr looked at her and opened his mouth, only to clutch his side with more laugher.

“We’re sorry, we must be slowing down your rounds,” Freya managed to get out as she wiped away tears. “We just remembered something— a joke from a couple centuries back.”

“Exactly,” Freyr said. “So, there’s this centaur in a forest, right? And—oh.”

It happened so quickly Avia wasn’t really sure what had happened. There was a crash, a flash of silver, then a heavy thud on the ground. The next instant, Freyr was staring at the stump of his wrist. Its corresponding hand now lay on the floor beside an axe.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no, I am sorry, sir.” A big, hairy man—maybe a lycan, but he could have been human just the same—was on his knees, groveling outside the dressing room. “I was in a hurry to get ready and I tripped on a wire, and now I’ve—” he looked back at Freyr’s stump and began to cry.

Freya smiled and placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Relax, little one.” Avia found it a bit amusing, given that two of the blonde woman could have fit inside the mammoth’s frame. She watched in awe as Freya calmly picked up her brother’s hand and placed it to his wrist. No sooner had she twisted it into place than he was flexing his fingers.

“No harm done, friend,” he said. “But if you’ll excuse us.” He turned back to Avia. “This fellow’s right, we need to get to our places.”

Avia blushed, realizing she’d still been staring. “Si, yeah, of course. I’ll get out of your way. Good luck.”

“Thanks!” they called as she quickly made her way out of the backstage area. She shook her head, trying to make sense of what had just happened, but wasn’t given a chance.

“Avia!”

She looked up to see Paris waving from the archway of a giant flashing sign reading “The Big Top.” The rest of the tent was hidden past the stone walls. Shoving through the crowd, she squirmed her way to the front of the masses.

Avia couldn’t deny, even in human glamour, Paris was still stunning. Chestnut brown