The Infamous Beast

by T Shadow

  It feels like five minutes pass instead of five seconds as I wait for him to accept my peace offering, but Leland slowly grasps my hand in his and shakes it. It’s the first stepping stone in a long path towards the friendship we should have had. I can feel it, the smile growing on my face. It’s a rare thing to experience it, let alone see it. The Second Knight is not known for smiling, after all.

  Our small pep-talk is interrupted by the 'employee’s only' door at the back of the café. I expected it to be on a hinge which allows it to swing both ways, but boy, am I wrong. The door swings open with a crash as it's forcibly thrown into the wall next to it. It scares me enough to make me jump, my knee knocking into the table top and making the salt and pepper shakers wobble precariously. Leland may have nearly pissed himself, but he won't admit it, and I'm not going to check.

  Winter walks towards us with one of those old-style serving trays, making this little café just a little bit weirder. Who needs a tea tray that sparkly and ostentatious anyway?

  Leland scurries to move all of the crap out of the way so that she can put the tray down. It's gently placed on our table— as if it were fine china and not metal. I guess from its treatment that it holds more sentimental value than the employee door, considering that it gets thrown around like a boxer in the ring.

  "Can I get yous anything else?"

  I look towards Leland, who just shakes his head a little. He does, however, tap the tray with a finger. “W-What is this?”

  Winter’s brows come together as she stares at him, confused. Mine do too. He doesn’t know what a tea tray is? There’s many of them where he lives. But then again, he probably never had the opportunity to see one.

  “It’s a tea tray dear. Like the poem?”

  “The p-poem?”

  Rolling her eyes like he’s a little bit stupid— maybe he is, especially in the common logic department, she recites the poem without missing a beat.

  “Twinkle twinkle little bat, how I wonder where you’re at! Up above the world you fly, like a tea tray in the sky!”

  “T-That makes no s-sense.”

  “Of course it makes no sense, Lewis Carroll wrote it. Does anything that he writes make sense?”

  Looking down, Leland avoid’s her eye. It’s almost as if he’s embarrassed not to know the poem itself. That’s when I get the genius idea, step two in building our relationship again.

  “I don’t think Leland remembers the book. The last time he read it was probably when he was a child. Do you know where we could find a copy we could borrow, so that he can familiarise himself with it? Like at a library, perhaps?”

  Shaking her head, she crouches down next to the table and lays her arms on top of it. It’s a great position for her to rest her head whilst looking at Leland. “We don’t have a library here— the town's too small to need one, but I’m sure that there’s a copy of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland in the bookshop down the street. Nevermore Than Enough Books, have you seen it?”

  “Y-Yeah, I’ve s-seen it.”

  “Good, tell Remi I sent you. She might give you some discount. God knows she has too many copies of that bloody book anyway.”

  That sounds odd to me. “But it’s a bookshop, surely she should have many copies?”

  Her laugh cuts through the awkward tension in the air. It’s light and airy, not like one of those belly-laughs, or those ones where you forget to breathe. It’s like she knows something about Remi that we don’t, but anything she’s willing to tell me about her, I’ll take. I’ll gobble up all the information about her like a greedy bastard.

  I don’t mind getting myself one step closer to the woman who hates my guts.

  “No silly. I would understand if she had… I don’t know, multiple covers of a modern edition to sell, but that bookshop is her own personal sanctuary, and more like a library. All of her multiple copies are various editions throughout the years. It’s quite the collection to any book lover. She only sells them to keep the shop a float, but she keeps the best ones in the back.”

  “I t-thought she kept the r-romance novels in the back?”

  “The romance novels? Why would sh- ohhhh. Yeah, nope. It’s not those kinds of romances. They’re… uh… experimental romances. Maybe try one for yourself.”

  She chooses that opportune moment to move away from the table and leave us to our food. Not that I don’t mind her company, considering that she’s one of the only people that’s spoken to us this entire time, but this cappuccino is calling my name like a siren singing her song.

  There’s a possibility that I may die if I don’t drink it.

  The last thing I expect to hear is a moan from the opposite side of the table. Taking the cup in my hands, I look over the rim at Leland as I lift it to my lips, ready to take a sip of liquid gold. He’s tackled the cake first as his Victoria sponge has a large chunk taken from it. He holds the weird cake fork in his hand as he chews with his eyes closed.

  “This is the best. Fucking. Cake. Ever.”

  I can only smile at his reaction. Cake fixes all things, and in this case, it even fixes a poor kid’s stutter.

  I feel a lot better now that the secret is out. Actually, I'm fucking kidding myself. I feel just as antisocial as I did before and my anxiety has gained a new high score. 'Take my advice, Remi' yeah, fuck load of good your advice did me, Mika, now there's four more people in the world who know I still exist!

  I can’t believe that it’s just another day in the life of Remi. The bookstore is open, my jobs for the day are done, and it’s just me here, and the words of dead authors circling around me. Alive authors too… can’t forget those. But people only love you when you’re dead, right?

  It’s a little after one in the afternoon, a day or so after I shifted into a fucking massive dragon, nearly wrecked a Hotel room and stirred up a lot more questions for four insanely attractive beasts that I shouldn’t be interested in. But, Mika told me to live a little. I’ve been ‘caged for too long’ and ‘unhappy for a while now’ so I might as well just ‘listen to my heart’. So listen to my heart I will. If I think a tall, handsome, mythical beast is what I’m into, then that’s what I’m into. I can’t help it, it’s just my nature. Although I'm worried that with this new found adventure that I might lose my head as well as my heart. But then again, is life really worth living if you're doing nothing with it?

  I trail my fingertips over my wooden counter as I wait for an unsuspecting victim to walk in. Come into my parlour, said the spider to the fly. Thank God I'm not some sort of spider shifter, I think I'd kill myself before someone else. I shiver, thinking of all those eight legged freaks crawling in and out of me. It's not something I'd like to experience, but thankfully the door chimes, distracting me from my spidey thoughts.

  I'd fully expect it to be Mika who walks through the door, her heavy boots threatening to break my floorboards with every step. But no. It's not Mika. It's Finn.

  You know, dreamy, tall Finn with red hair so bright it could be a beacon in a dark room? Finn with the cute glasses and rugged scholar look about him? Okay Remi, stop drooling.

  Wiping the side of my mouth to catch any drool— there was none, thankfully— I make myself appear disinterested. I don't want to act like I'm coming on too strong, because I'm not, but I also don't want to act surprised to see him. Playing my cards close to my chest seems the easiest way of winning someone's affections. I mean, what would I know? I've been celibate for a while, and not through choice.

  The door shuts behind Finn and instead of coming straight to the counter like I kind of expected him to, he goes straight to the back section. I think he's heading to the 'back back' for the dirty section, but instead he surprises me and heads for the classics section.

  Please don't let this guy be The Princess Bride kind of guy. I can't deal with all the posturing, and plus, it's weird. I'm not fully prepared to deal with all the, "you killed my father, now prepare to die!" Shit.

  In an attempt to make me seem more disinterest
ed— is that even possible?— I grab the book I'm currently reading from underneath the counter, opening it to my current page. It's all murder and gangs-but-not-gangs, academy style novel, but I love it. I've binge read these three multiple times already.

  I must have zoned out for a while because thirty pages later, I see a few books edge their way onto the counter in my peripheral. They're accompanied by a large, male hand. It's nice to know that Finn didn't get lost in the stacks but it’s also enlightening to know that that man can be silent and stealthy when he wants to. That, or I was so engrossed in the book that I didn’t hear him approach. Without lifting my head to acknowledge him, I look out of the corner of my eye at his reading choices. "Alice in Wonderland? Didn't take you for a classic novel person, Finnegan."

  He grunts at the use of his full name. Maybe it's because I said it, and it sounds good coming from my lips— I mean, maybe, but a girl can only hope.

  "The wonderful world of opiates book isn't for me, I'm afraid."

  That interests me more, enough for me to lift my head to finally gaze up at his sapphire eyes that make me envious every time, "oh, who's it for then? I can't see Landon picking up a book unless it's Chugging Beer for Dummies."

  The laugh that erupts from him is boisterous and loud. I smile at his reaction because one, he found my joke funny and two, his laugh sounds comforting, like home. It's a different side of him that I haven't seen before. I’m used to Finn being quiet and serious, not too much like the happy-go-lucky guy in front of me.

  "No, no," he rasps out between laughs, "the book is for Leland."

  "Leland wants to read Alice in Wonderland?"

  He calms down from his laugh, but his face is a little flushed. "Well, he and Remington went to the café yesterday and the waitress there, Summer, I think, caught his interest with a tea tray."

  "How can you catch someone's interest with a tea tray? What did she do, hit him with it?" Running my hand down my face, I mutter, "also her name is Winter, not Summer."

  He shrugs his shoulders, clearly not caring whether he got her name wrong or not. "No she brought everything out on a metal tea tray, which intrigued him because he hadn't seen one before. Then she recited the poem, and asked him if he'd heard of Lewis Carroll. Because he hadn't, she recommended the book. Being the gentleman that I am, I offered to pick it up for him. I didn’t want him to come in and buy a children's book for himself, he’d get all flustered and annoyed."

  He nudges the books forward again, and I take them in my hands to start ringing them up. He's got Alice in Wonderland, a shitty copy that just came out this year, a book with a girl on the cover in a school uniform but she has horns. I swear I've read that one before, one of the guys buys her shoes and another is obsessed with doughnuts. And he also has another book that I don't recognise. I probably bought it months ago, and I haven't got around to reading every book in here yet, but I'm sure I will soon.

  As I type the amounts into the old as fuck register, I try my best at small conversation. "So… I know you like the books in the back, but have you read this one yet?" Without hesitation, I push forward my own copy of Just Drop Out towards him.

  "Can't say I have…" picking up the book carefully, he places a finger in between the pages that I'm currently on, saving my page for me. Be still, my beating heart. He quickly reads the blurb before nodding, "It seems like you've read this a few times… is it any good?"

  I do my best to give him a spoiler that he wouldn’t recognise until he read all of them. "Well… have you ever heard of a study of peas?"

  "I... haven't?"

  "Well, you're missing out on some hash-slinging slasher shit in this book. Right up your alley, a lotta hot, a little murder-y." I laugh at my description. Who says murder-y?

  A slow rumble sounds from his chest. I'd liken it to a purr, except, dragons aren't known for their purring. But it's highly unlikely that a dragon would make any noise when it's still in its meat skin. Looking up, I look into a pair of glossed over, yet still navy blue eyes. I think Oshi has come out to play, which makes me very, very curious. I feel the blush rise to my cheeks, and being the female I am, I look away, using my hair to hide it. It's not a foolproof method of hiding a blush, because most men just think you're being coy.

  But I never got the chance to speak to this particular beast the other day. And I feel like this one is a 'roast first, ask questions later' kinda beast. Busying myself by wrapping each book in tissue paper, methodically straightening out edges before tying them with twine, I get to the Alice book and stop.

  There is no way in the history of my life that I've ever let someone take home the shittiest copy I own. That's generally for the 'try-before-you-buyers' copy. If they can't be bothered to pay, I will provide the shittiest copy imaginable, you know, the one with all the dog ears, bent spines and creased pages. But I can't do that to Leland. He needs an older copy, with the illustrations done by Tenniel so that he can experience the novel in its full glory.

  Pushing the book back towards Finn… Or Oshi, I’m not really sure which, I mutter, “just give me a sec,” before wandering into my office to get one of the better, luxurious books from the back. I spy it on my shelf, it’s vintage like but still modern. Pale blue with pink and gold illustrations, it’s one of my prized possessions. I’m sure it won’t hurt to part with it for a day or so.

  Finn is still where I left him at the front of the shop. Literally, in the same exact position and everything. I only notice the way his eyes look to seek me out because I hone in on them like a lit beacon amidst the darkness. Still slightly glazed over, his royal blue eyes have a milky tinge. That's what happens to regular, bog standard dragons when they currently possess the human body. For monochromatic dragons, their eyes reflect their scales. Henceforth why my eyes become white and his do not.

  Stepping behind the counter again, I push the nicer, well looked after copy towards Finn. It's the only time that he redirects his attention, before turning it back to me. Oshi must not share the same love for books that Finn does.

  "So, that shitty copy you bought up? That's not what I give to customers. So give Leland this book, it has all the good pictures in it!" My love for the illustrations leaks out, making me seem like a fantabulous fan girl.

  "Are you insinuating that he cannot read?"

  Uhh... "No? He works on computers doesn't he? Isn't it a requirement to read?"

  All I get is a grunt of a reply. It's quite obvious now that I'm talking to the beast rather than charismatic Finnegan. He would understand the need for good illustration. The beast doesn’t understand the need for satisfying things, he just thinks that I'm calling one of his friends an idiot. Maybe he is, maybe he isn't. But isn't the saying that a jack of all trades is a master of some, but never a master of one.

  Leland seems unequivocally like the master of one trade. Computer science. Finn however probably likens himself to a jack of all trades, knowing a little bit about everything, or just enough to get by. His beast seems to rely on ferocious loyalty and pure instinct.

  Before I wrap this one, I pull a piece of paper out of the top of the drawer and write a quick note on it. It’s simple, efficient and can in no way be misinterpreted. Wrapping up the last precious book and stacking them all gingerly in a carrier bag, I push it across the counter towards him. Before I even open my mouth to attempt conversation— although, why do I really bother?— I feel a harsh puff of warm air on the top of my head. It makes my hair sway in its wake so it startles me, but only slightly.

  He sniffed me. He really just sniffed me. Besides the fact that he did it so obviously without a care, shows that he doesn't seem to understand how rude he is. That blithering bastard. You just don't go around sniffing whoever you like! There's these things now called boundaries.

  Fury is probably etched into my skin harder than any wrinkles could ever be. My eyes capture his still-milky ones, and in the calmest voice I can muster, I address his beastly nature.

  "Did you just fucking sniff
me?"

  "... No."

  I gasp, bewildered. First he has the audacity to sniff me, then he lies about it? Not only does he poke the bear, but now he pretends like he didn’t do it in the first place?

  "You did sniff me!"

  "No I... didn't?" It comes out like a question, almost as if his pea-brain can't remember.

  "Yeah… you totally sniffed me, you-you warm-blooded weirdo!"

  "Warm-blooded weirdo?"

  Exasperated, I throw my hands up in a ‘are you fucking kidding me?’ gesture before crashing them back down on the counter. I overestimated myself a little, because the antique till rocks slightly at the force of my well needed, point making smack.

  "Well ya couldn't be a fucking cold-blooded weirdo could ya?" Clapping my hands between words like the bitch I am, I bring my point home. "Dragon. Hot. Make. Fire."

  I see the moment that his lower jaw unlocks from the top one. It hangs down like a limp noodle, as if he can’t believe what I just did. I’d like to say I can’t believe it either, but I fucking can. My inner bitch has emerged from the flames, pissed off like a woman scorned.

  Our standoff could be compared to those that happened in the Wild West years ago, except there’s no guns or any rootin’ and tootin’. It ends quite suddenly when Oshi gathers all of his dragon-sized bearings.

  "You mock us?"

  "Nah, just you. You overgrown lizard," a snort escapes me, "try taking your head out of your ass for a minute and think. I wasn't giving Leland a five year olds picture book, it was a book with illustrations. You just happened to jump to a conclusion before your brain cells bounced off of each other and had the opportunity to engage."