by S. W. Clarke
I tilted my head at him. “I’m sure you do much more than drive and cook paninis.”
He half-smiled at me. “You know what I mean.”
“I know.” I set one hand over my chest, forced all my southern sweetness aside to show him I meant what I was about to say. “I swear, I’ll do everything I can to keep Seleema safe on my watch.”
“I know you will.” He sighed, turned away toward the stove. He picked up his spatula. “She’s seen the nature of your soul.”
Chapter 15
Three hours later, Seleema, Percy and I stood outside a coffee shop as night settled in.
“So let me get this straight,” Percy huffed as I wrapped the leash around his neck. “You dragged me from my pedicure to go on a ‘cool adventure,’ and now you’re tying me up outside this Starbucks like a dog?”
“Now, Percy”—I pulled the leash taut, tied the end around a streetlamp—“don’t forget that you were the one who insisted on coming along.”
“Yeah, so I could be your sidekick.” He raised one delicate, manicured set of claws and touched the leash’s strap with disdain. “Not stuff my face into a puppaccino while you and the houri go play detective.”
Inside the coffee shop, every patron was staring with unabashed intensity at the dragon on the sidewalk. One barista had spilled a drink in the process of rubbernecking.
Seleema giggled. “It does look rather undignified, Tara.”
“You’re both right, all right?” I double-tied the knot and stepped back. “But listen, there’s just no way we can sneak into this dirty doctor’s office with a GoneGodDamn dragon in tow. There’s just no way, Perce. That’s why you have to be the lookout.”
He sighed. “Fine, I’ll be the lookout. But really—the leash again?”
I waved a hand through the air. “Blame the city and their blasted ordinance about dragons of a certain age being left to roam after dark.”
“Sounds Otherist to me,” he shot back.
“That’s because it is, my dear.” I stepped forward, took his adorable face between both my hands and kissed him square on the nose. “But the world’s changing. You and I are part of that change.”
He glared at me—ever since he’d turned five, he hated me kissing his head in public. Then he side-eyed the leash. “You call this ‘change?’ ”
“Sometimes change takes time,” Seleema said from behind me. “But I agree with Tara—the world is changing for the better.”
The dragon looked dubious.
“Listen, we’re just going to zip in and out of this hospital.” I made a beeline through the air with my fingers. “Then I’ll get you a whole bundle of lamb kebabs for dinner. How does that sound?”
A tiny glint of pleasure entered his adolescent eyes. “I want six.”
“Six it is.”
“Dozen.”
“Six dozen lamb kebabs?”
He nodded.
I cursed under my breath. “All right, six dozen. And don’t worry—we’ll be at the bottom of this barrel of monkeys soon enough, and then we’ll be out of New York.”
His expression shifted to concern. “What if you get into trouble in there? Will you call for me?”
I lifted the metal whistle around my neck. “You’re the first dragon I’ll call.”
When I turned away, he made that noise—the one that indicated he had one more thing to say. It was a small snort, followed by, “Tara?”
I turned back around. “Percy?”
“I can protect you, you know. I’m ready.”
An unexpected wave of emotion swept over me; I was glad for the darkness to mask it. I gave him a short nod. “I have no doubt, my dear.” With that, I gestured to Seleema.
“Farewell for now, dragon Percival,” she said to him.
Seleema came to my side, and the two of us started down the sidewalk. We didn’t have anything else to say; we had already been through the plan half a dozen times.
As we came into Langone’s reception area, eyes of a certain gender followed us.
What can I say? We were two fine dames.
We came to the counter, where a young man sat at a computer.
I stepped up first. “How do? My sister and I have an appointment with Dr. Drow.”
The man raised a finger, even as his other hand kept typing. His eyes never met mine.
“Pardon me,” I tried again. “We have an appointment.”
“I’ll be with you in a minute,” the man said, eyes still on the screen.
Seleema placed one hand on my shoulder as she came forward. She set her clasped hands on the counter, leaning forward. “Good evening.”
Her voice sounded like silk over skin.
The man kept typing. But two seconds later, his gaze strayed from his screen, fingers still moving. His unimpressed eyes found Seleema and widened a degree. But his hands didn’t leave the keyboard. “Good evening.”
Seleema lifted one hand, her finger tracing vertically through the air to indicate the worry line between the man’s eyebrows. "You strike me as slightly anxious. Is it just today, or for longer?"
His fingers left the keyboard; one hand went up to the spot between his eyebrows and commenced rubbing. “Oh, it’s been a crazy day.”
“Really?” Seleema tilted her head. “In what way?”
Now he turned toward her in full, the wheels on his chair squeaking. The two of them fell into a deep, empathetic conversation, Seleema nodding and offering thoughtful noises of concern.
I glanced between the houri and the receptionist. You could draw a line between them, the air was so thick with heady tension. And not the negative kind.
Finally, the receptionist asked, “Did I hear you mention an appointment?”
Seleema smiled. “Yes, we have one.”
“And what’s your name?”
“Her name’s Annabelle Martin,” I cut in.
The man’s eyes flicked to me, and some light left them. I tried not to take it personally as he turned back to the computer. I wasn’t a houri, after all. He clicked once, twice. “We don’t have an upcoming appointment on the schedule for you, Ms. Martin.”
An upcoming appointment.
So Annabelle might have had a past appointment.
“Oh.” One hand rose to Seleema’s chest. She was quick as a whip, that one. “Did we get the time wrong?”
I stepped forward. “Sir, my sister can be a bit forgetful on account of her condition. Could you tell us when the original appointment was set for?”
More mouse clicking. The man’s eyes never left the screen. “It appears you signed in for your appointment with Dr. Drow at 7:45 this morning, Annabelle.”
Seleema and I didn’t meet eyes, but I knew she was thinking the same thing I was.
This was absolute confirmation. Annabelle had come here this morning. She’d come here, and she’d never come back home.
There was no question what we had to do now.
↔
I took hold of Seleema’s arm. “Thank you so much for your time. Annabelle, what do you say we see if the vending machine has any peanut M&Ms?”
Seleema glanced at me and caught my drift. “Oh yes. I do so love hard-shell candy with peanuts in the center. Not as nutritious as orange juice, but quite delicious all the same.”
I forced a smile as we left the desk and headed toward the vending machines in the adjacent hallway. I sensed the receptionist watching us—or, I should say, watching Seleema.
“Part of being sneaky is saying less,” I whispered to Seleema. “Not more.”
“I was saying less,” she whispered back. “Frank knows well my feelings about the horrid influence of refined sugar on our mortal coils. He does not dare to bring home anything as vile as these ‘peanut M&M’s.’ ”
I stifled a groan as we passed the vending machines—and got out of sight of the receptionist. “A little candy won’t kill you.”
“Our bodies are the vessels for our souls, Tara Drake.” As far as I could te
ll, she had entirely forgotten our purpose for coming here. “They must not be defiled. They must be treated with absolute reverence, for they house the pure essence of our beings.”
“Uh huh.” I scanned the hallway, which ended in a pair of swinging doors with AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY written above them. A resident in scrubs came striding through, pressing the doors open and hardly seeing us as he strode by.
As the doors swung back, I caught a glimpse into the hospital’s interior. The hallway beyond was empty. Which meant no one was around to care whether or not we were authorized.
We proceeded through the off-limits double doors. As we came to the other side, we found it thankfully empty.
We spent the next fifteen minutes walking through the hallways, following signs toward the Ear, Nose and Throat wing. When we came to a locked door, Seleema flagged down a passing nurse.
“Excuse me,” the houri called out, even as I tried to grab her arm to stop her. But it was too late—the nurse had already stopped.
And once again, Seleema did the same thing she’d done with the receptionist: she charmed the pants off that nurse. Within a minute, the nurse was telling her all about her two kids and the challenges of working the night shift.
I just stood there with folded arms, nodding along, some strange concoction of feelings running through me. Gratitude … and maybe a twinge of jealousy. You don’t always have to be at the center of things, Tara.
But it wasn’t just that.
It was the fact that Seleema seemed, without conceit, to actually care about what this nurse was telling her. She’d cared about the receptionist’s worry line between his eyebrows. She cared about Annabelle.
And it was all right there on the surface. Clearly she didn’t feel nauseous every time things got sincere.
That was where the jealousy stemmed from.
“The gates of Heaven were always open to all,” I heard Seleema say to the nurse, indicating the locked door. “Closed doors weren't something you found in Jannah. My friend and I are interested in entering this hallway. Your soul tells me you will say yes to me."
Like that’s going to work.
“Oh!” said the nurse, grabbing the keycard at the waist of her scrubs and setting it to the security pad. It blinked green as the door unlocked. “You go right ahead.”
I stared, mouth agape, as Seleema walked through. She turned, gestured for me.
When I came through and the door had closed behind us, I whispered, “How do you do that?”
She glanced over, eyes innocent. “Do what?”
“You—” I jerked my thumb back the way we’d come. “You just charm people. You ask them how they’re feeling, then you say some stuff about Jannah, and …”
She kept staring, eyes as unafflicted as a lamb’s. And I realized there was no deception in her. Not a drop of it.
Her eyes shifted past me. Seleema stopped me with a hand on my arm.
I stopped. “What is it?”
She pointed out the large window to our left.
There, wings flapping, was my dragon with his nose to the window. The leash was still around his neck, but he held up the end of it and swung it in a circle like a go-go dancer.
“GoneGodDamn it,” I whispered, gesticulating for Percy to fly away. “Go back. Go back to the coffee shop.”
He blew smoke, which coated a section of the window like frost. With one claw, he traced letters on the glass.
“A-rat ih,” Seleema read as his finger moved. “What does it mean?”
My eye twitched. “It means ‘Hi Tara’ backwards.”
“Oh. Is he attempting to get our attention?”
“He sure is.” I spun on my heel, continued down the hallway.
Seleema followed. “Tara, what if it is important?”
“It’s not.”
As we walked, I sensed Percy following alongside from window to window.
“Will he go back to the spot where you leashed him?”
“No.” I ground my teeth as I stalked down the hallway. “Just ignore him. The only way to win against a teenager is to ignore them.”
“But he is not a teenager. He is a dragon.”
“Yeah, he’s a teenage dragon. Do you know how much worse that is?”
Seleema shook her head.
“Human teenagers are fairly harmless. They’re awkward and pimply and mostly just sleep,” I said. “Meanwhile, dragons have claws and enormous teeth and fire in their bellies. Have you ever seen an angry teenage dragon spit fire?”
“Was he not angry when you battled the ogre on the street?”
I shook my head. “Nope. Not even close.”
“Then I have not seen an angry teenage dragon spit fire.”
I leaned toward her, pointed to an old burn mark on the back of my hand. “Be glad.”
She breathed in. “I understand now. It is worse.”
We kept walking, and Percy kept following. I was outwardly irritated, but secretly glad for his presence. The truth was, I was always happier with Percy around than when he was gone.
It wasn’t just about feeling safe. It was because he was mine, and I was his. I’d hatched him from an egg, and he and I were family.
Plus, he made me laugh as often as he made me furious.
We were about to pass into a section of the hallway without windows—where Dr. Drow’s office was. “One second,” I said to Seleema. I approached the window where Percy hovered and placed my face close to his. “We’re going into the office. We should be in and out. If you don’t see me again in fifteen minutes, then you go back to Frank’s and get help, all right?”
His voice came muffled through the double panes. “How about I burn through this glass and murder anyone in my way?”
I sighed. “No.”
“But you let me do it that one time in Encino.”
I set my finger on the glass. “That was different. And I didn’t let you murder anyone—just scare ’em.”
“OK, scare ‘em. Can I burn through the glass now?”
“No burning through the glass.”
As I turned back to Seleema, a tiny smile had formed on her lips.
“What’s that smile about?” I said.
“You know what it is about, Tara.”
And I did, of course. As we left Percy at the window, the number I’d given him rang through my mind.
Fifteen minutes. In and out.
Chapter 16
As expected, Dr. Drow’s office door was locked.
Seleema tried the doorknob, but it didn’t budge. Unfortunately for the doctor, it had a keyhole.
I reached up and eased a bobby pin out of my hair. “Let me get in there a sec.”
The houri glanced at the bobby pin. “Surely you cannot pick a lock simply with that.”
“You’re right.” I knelt down, reaching into the tiny utility pouch on my belt and slipping out a tension wrench. “You need this, too.”
“Where did you learn this means of intrusion, Tara?”
I inserted both tools into the keyhole. “Intrusion sounds so negative.”
“What would you prefer I call it?”
I began jimmying the lock with delicate fingers. “Handiness. Resourcefulness. Dar—”
The doorknob turned on its own, and I removed the tools just before the office door swung in to reveal a dimly lit office and a man in the doorway.
There before us stood none other than Dr. Drow, blinking first at Seleema, then at me.
Box of hopping frogs, I silently cursed.
How did I know it was Dr. Drow?
Well, for one thing, he was wearing a lab coat with his name tag on it. But even if he hadn’t been, the guy was actually a GoneGodDamn drow elf. I mean full on dark-blue skin, pointy ears and dark, probing eyes.
“What are you doing?” he said down to me.
I rose, folding the tools into the palm of my hand. “Ah, the doctor is in.” I stared at his name tag. “Dr. Elvarish Drow? Your name is actually Elvarish
Drow?”
His gaze followed my hand, and his eyebrows came together. “You were trying to break into my office.” He went to step around me. “Security is ...”
Seleema stepped forward, blocking his way. She didn’t say anything.
I stepped forward, too, turning him around with one hand over his shoulder. “No need for all that. We’re just two gals here for a chat with the doctor.”
He resisted, attempting to jerk out from under my arm. But Seleema pressed in behind us, and unfortunately for Dr. Drow, dark elves weren’t known for their height or strength.
Thirty seconds later, the three of us stood in his office with the door closed. Dr. Drow folded his arms over his chest. “Now listen, I don’t know what this is about, but I’ll tell you right now—”
I raised a finger. “Sorry, Doctor. I’m afraid we’re on a tight schedule. You see, there’s a dragon outside ready to turn glass back into sand. He’ll reduce your office door to ash if I don’t reappear in”—I glanced over at the wall clock—“eleven minutes.”
The doctor’s gaze flitted between me and Seleema. “A dragon?”
Seleema nodded, folding her arms, too. “The human does not lie.”
A strange light entered his eyes as he studied me. “Who are you?”
“That’s not important.” I stepped forward, pulling the old woman’s drawing out of my jacket and holding it up to him. “What’s important is that you tell me why the Angelic symbol for rebirth is on your prescription pad.”
He stared at it, then his eyes returned to me. “You are Tara Drake, aren’t you?”
My mouth hardened. I didn’t like that he knew who I was, and I really didn’t like the way he’d said my name—like he knew other things about me. “How do you know who I am?”
“Why, you are here. Mariana’s vessel, standing right before me.” His hands clapped together like a toddler’s, and he leaned every which way to survey me. “Oh, you are miraculous.”
