by Tara West
The nurse’s mouth fell open, and for a long moment she simply gawked at Abby.
“Come on! Get cracking!” Abby shooed the nurse out like she was a stray mongrel.
“I’ll get Doctor Straw,” the woman squeaked, slamming the door behind her.
There was a loud commotion coming from the hall. A strong male voice rose above the din, then all went silent.
The door swung open, and a tall, reedy man Fiona presumed to be Dr. Straw entered the room. He was dressed in white breeches, shirt, and coat, a black tie, belt and shoes. His slicked-back dark hair clung to his scalp like a second skin. He had the oddest looking black moustache with tapered tips. Fiona had noticed other village men had such moustaches as well, and she still hadn’t grown accustomed to the look of them.
“Hello, Abby. I’m Doctor Straw.” He flashed a thin smile, one Fiona noticed contradicted the cold gleam in his dark eyes. “How do you feel?”
The girl stood her ground. “I want to go home.”
Doctor Straw’s smile widened, revealing even rows of pearly white teeth. “I know you do, child, but you suffered a terrible injury.”
“Where?” Abby shot the doctor a smug look. “Show me this injury.”
Scowling, he walked up to Abby in a few strides. When he pulled back a lock of her hair to examine the wound, his eyes bulged. “Amazing,” he said through a breathy whisper. “Most of your scarring has healed.” He turned toward Mrs. Jenkens with an accusatory glare. “How did this happen?”
The old woman merely shrugged, falling into her seat while nervously eyeing Fiona.
Abby let out a short burst of laughter. “Maybe my injury wasn’t that bad.”
The look he shot Abby would have melted iron had Abby been a weakling.
Pride welled in Fiona’s chest as the girl matched the doctor’s glare with one of her own.
“I’m never wrong about such things,” he said through a hiss.
“How much is it costing my nana to keep me here each day?” she spat. “Haven’t you enough sick and infirm people to line your pockets?”
The doctor’s skin paled, then flushed, finally turning a deep shade of crimson. “This is not about money, Abby. You need rest.”
Abby shook her head. “I want to rest in my own bed. I want to smell my nana’s apple pie and drink her sweet tea.” She threw up both hands and stomped a foot. “I want to go home!”
Doctor Straw heaved a resonant sigh before casting a pleading gaze at Mrs. Jenkens. The old woman slouched in her seat and looked away.
He turned to Abby. “But here we have a staff of highly trained nurses and doctors.”
Abby pointed at Fiona. “She can take care of me.”
Fiona’s knees weakened when Dr. Straw turned his assessing gaze on her. She did not need a scorned man to pay her any heed. As Fiona stared at the cold gleam in his eyes, she knew a man like Dr. Straw could cause trouble.
“Who are you?” he asked.
Fiona straightened her shoulders. She would not allow this man to intimidate her. “I am merely a visitor.”
Abby snorted. “She knows more about medicine than any of you.” Her penetrating gaze locked with Fiona’s. “And I remember it now, your hands on my skull.” Abby’s hand shot to her forehead. Her voice took on a dreamy air, as if she was lost in a haze. “It was as if… as if you were healing me with your touch.”
Dr. Straw’s eyes narrowed. “Are you a nurse?” he asked Fiona.
Tension coiled around Fiona’s spine. “I was a healer among my people.”
Though the doctor chuckled, his eyes showed no amusement. “Herbals and home remedies, I presume?”
“Aye,” she answered, “something of the sort.”
“Well, this is America, where we use real science to heal the sick.” There was no mistaking the venomous tone in Dr. Straw’s voice.
Abby groaned. “Do I get to go home or what?”
The doctor’s features hardened. “I will have a nurse bring the discharge paperwork.” He waved a dismissive hand. “Your old world healer can look after you, but when your head becomes infected, you will have only yourself and your healer to blame.”
Fiona swallowed the tension that twisted a knot in her throat. Hatred and anger rolled off the man in sickening waves. She was relieved when he stormed out of the room, slamming the heavy door behind him.
Abby folded her arms as she plopped down on her bed. “I don’t trust that snake in the grass.”
“Abby!” Mrs. Jenkens wagged a finger at her granddaughter. “Mind your tongue.”
But Abby’s instincts were sharp. The man was a snake, and Fiona knew if there was to be trouble in this town called Galveston, Dr. Straw would be the one leading the mob.
Chapter Nine
Safina spent the morning looking out her chamber window. As soon as Mother and Mrs. Jenkens left, she’d opened the glass and sat on the cushioned bench, breathing in the warm salty air and absorbing the sights and sounds before her. Squealing children frolicked in the foamy surf. A large boat with a towering, smoking cylinder blew its horn as it sailed across the harbor. The smell of freshly baked bread and roasting clams made her mouth water. Even though she’d already broken her fast with a filling meal of fried salted pork, eggs, and biscuits, Safina wanted more…more food, more sights, more everything.
She had lived in a cramped shell far too long, and though the world frightened her, Safina yearned to explore.
If only Mother would let her.
Safina’s gaze shifted again to the road that ran in front of their dwelling. She hoped her mother would return soon. With each passing minute, she grew more anxious. Had Mother truly healed the mortal girl? If so, would Mrs. Jenkens and the other townsfolk mark them as witches?
The irregular rumble of Señor Cortez’s cart brought Safina out of her reverie. They were coming! Safina jumped from her seat and shut the window. She smoothed back an errant strand of curly hair that had slipped from its confining bun and silently cursed Mrs. Jenkens for insisting she wear her hair “like a lady.” She brushed biscuit crumbs from her dress and raced downstairs to greet them.
Safina waited anxiously on the landing of the stairs. Mrs. Jenkens’s servant Moses, a stout man with ebony skin and a warm smile, was in the parlor setting out glasses of lemonade, beautiful ivory dishes with gold inlay and red flowers, and best of all, a tray of little round fluffy pastries that smelled divine. Safina’s nostrils flared as she inhaled the rich aroma. Oh, how she’d missed the surface!
The front door flew open, and a tempest of dresses and high-pitched chatter blew through the parlor. Safina sat down and peered at the scene from behind the banisters. She was awestruck at the beautiful young woman who breezed into the room. The girl tossed a pale blue bonnet in a chair and picked up a tall glass of lemonade, thanking Moses, and then plopped onto the padded bench Mrs. Jenkens called a sofa.
After taking several gulps, the girl, whom Safina assumed was Abby, set the glass goblet on the low table beside her and dabbed her lips with a cloth.
“What day is it?” Abby asked her grandmother with a cheery smile.
Mrs. Jenkens sat beside Abby, fussing as she wiped lemonade off her chin. Only then did Safina’s dragon-touched eyes note the faint trace of a jagged scar on Abby’s forehead.
“Saturday, dear,” Mrs. Jenkens answered with an audible sigh.
Even from a distance, Safina heard the frustration in the older woman’s voice.
“Gosh a-mighty!” Abby yelped, springing to her feet. “How long was I sick?”
“You’ve been laid up three whole days,” Mrs. Jenkens said with a quivering lip. The older woman’s eyes were red and swollen, and she had a blotchy face and nose to match. She must have been crying again. Safina had endured listening to the woman cry all night and all morning. Now that her granddaughter was healed, she hoped Mrs. Jenkens would be at ease.
With an elegant sweep of her skirts, Fiona strode into the parlor and lowered herself onto the sofa
, barely making a dent in the fabric. Safina admired her mother’s grace and poise, and she was reminded that Mother was the last noble dragon queen. Safina frowned, wondering if she’d ever be able to conduct herself like a dragon royal.
She’d already stumbled over her skirts three times this morning, nearly careening face-first down the stairwell. Getting used to her human body was going to take some work. Safina slouched, leaning away from the banisters, hoping she could continue to watch them from a distance without drawing any attention to herself, though some part of her wished to join the others, if not for the company, then for the pastries and lemonade.
“Three days?” Abby scratched her head. “I don’t know what you did for me, but I feel right as rain, so I thank you from the bottom of my heart.” As Abby placed a small, porcelain hand across her chest, there was no mistaking the sincerity in her eyes.
Though Safina knew she was not supposed to trust humans, she could not help but like the girl.
“You’re welcome, lass.” Mother’s voice sounded warm and affectionate. Could the dragon queen like Abby as well?
Abby shot Fiona a pointed look. “Are you a witch or something?”
When Safina gasped, all eyes in the room turned to her. She covered her mouth, feeling the blush spread like flame through her cheeks.
Fiona waved her forward. “Come here, child.” She patted the seat beside her and smiled.
Safina rose on unsteady legs and made her way down the stairs and into the parlor. Though her mother had beckoned her, Safina was reluctant to join the party. After all, she had come to understand her mother’s moods. There was no reassurance in the way the woman’s shoulders had stiffened at Abby’s accusation.
“No,” Fiona said through a thinning smile, turning her attention to Abby. “I am not a witch.”
Abby shrugged and bit into a warm pastry. “Makes no difference,” she said through a mouthful of crumbs. “If you are a witch, then you’re a good one. I’m not a zealot. Neither is my nana.” Abby flashed a rueful smile at her Grandmother. “Though she pretends to be.”
The old woman splayed a hand across her chest.
Just as Safina sat beside her mother, Abby sprang from her seat. There was determination in her expression as she wiped crumbs from her hands.
Mrs. Jenkens warily eyed her granddaughter. “Where are you going?”
Abby turned up her nose and fanned her face. “I need some fresh air.”
“Abby, no.” The old woman vehemently shook her head. “The doctor said you need rest.”
“I’ve been resting long enough, Nana.” Abby stomped her foot. “My bones are itching to break free.”
Mrs. Jenkens’s jaw hardened. She slowly rose from the sofa while wagging a finger at Abby. “You can finagle your way out of the hospital, but I refuse to let you out of this house.”
“Oh, Nana,” Abby groaned in an exasperated tone that one would use for an unruly child. She turned to Safina. “What’s your name?”
Safina did her best not to crack under the heavy weight of Abby’s assessing gaze. This human girl didn’t just look at her. She looked through her. Mother stiffened beside her, which did little to soothe Safina’s unease.
“Sa-Safina,” she stammered.
“Safina?” One side of Abby’s mouth hitched up in an impish grin. “That’s odd. And you’re her daughter?” She nodded toward Fiona.
“Aye.”
Abby turned to her grandmother with a grin that stretched nearly ear to ear. “It’s okay, Nana. I’ll take Safi with me.” She beckoned Safina to her with an impatient wave of the hand. “Hurry up. I’ve got to hotfoot it outta here before my nana changes her mind.”
The old woman planted both hands on her hips. “I never changed my mind in the first place.”
But Abby paid her grandmother no heed as she shoved several little warm pastries into her pocket, snatched her bonnet off the chair, and headed for the front door.
“Where are you going?” her grandmother called, chasing after her.
Safina rose on shaky legs, but she stayed rooted to the spot, her mother’s firm grip on one elbow.
“I thought I’d call on Charlotte,” Abby said as she tied her bonnet strings.
“You are not allowed to go near the pier, do you understand me?” Mrs. Jenkens shrieked. “Not one foot on that pier or the beach, for that matter.”
“Oh, Nana.” Abby laughed as she pulled a pale bonnet of a tall rack. “Charlotte doesn’t even live near the pier.” She strode to Safina in a few brisk steps, slapping the bonnet in her hand. “This is last season’s, but it will do.” She winked at Safina.
“Safina cannot go,” Mother said, holding Safina’s arm tighter.
Safina tried in vain to shrug off her mother’s grip; her arm was starting to go numb.
Abby’s brows scrunched together, and her lip hung down in a pout. “Why ever not?” she asked with an air of innocence.
Mother leveled Abby with a challenging glare. “She is new to this country and unused to the people and their customs.”
“How else will she learn our customs and make new friends if she’s never allowed out-of-doors?” Abby winked while prying Fiona’s fingers off Safina’s arm. “I’ll keep a sharp eye on her.” She drew an X across her chest. “Cross my heart.” Abby quickly pulled Safina to her side.
Safina stole a glance at her mother. The dragon queen’s eyes simmered with anger, and her nostrils flared, but she did nothing to stop them as Abby dragged her out the door. Clutching the bonnet in her hand, Safina nearly stumbled over her skirts as she tried to match Abby’s hurried pace.
“To Charlotte’s and back. Be home in time for the noon meal,” Mrs. Jenkens hollered from the doorway as they quickly descended the tall flight of stairs and to the sandy road below.
“Don’t worry, Nana,” Abby called. “We’ll be back before sunset.”
Sunset? That was virtually all day in the company of this mortal girl. Safina had never been parted so long from her mother. Safina cast another glance over her shoulder. Mother was standing on the porch beside Mrs. Jenkens. The old woman wrung her hands and was mumbling something to Mother, but Safina could tell the dragon queen was not listening, as her sole attention seemed to be on Safina.
Do not expose us, daughter, she mentally chided. Else we go back to the cocoon.
Aye, Mother, she answered. But as Safina was struck by a warm rush of fresh, salty ocean air, some part of her wanted to tell the dragon queen that no force of nature, no magic, and certainly no dragon, would ever imprison her below the surface again.
Chapter Ten
Safina had thought keeping up with her mother was taxing, but she had to work twice as hard to match Abby’s pace, leaving not much time to take in all the wondrous sights and sounds of Galveston. Horse carts, people, and even a trolley car buzzed by. But when a boy glided past them on an odd two-wheeled contraption, pedaling gears in smooth circles, Safina was so in awe of the sight, she stumbled and knocked into Abby’s backside.
Safina fell on one knee, wincing as pain shot up her leg. She had not grown accustomed to walking, much less while dressed in such cumbersome skirts and shoes.
Abby held out a hand. “First day with your new feet?” She laughed as she helped Safina up.
If only she knew, Safina thought.
She shrugged off Abby’s hand and brushed sand and grime from her dark dress. In order to avoid the crush of people along the road, Safina hobbled toward the alcove of a large building.
“You walk too fast,” she said to Abby, leaning against the cool stone of the structure.
Abby’s smile faded, and she laced her fingers through Safina’s. “Are you hurt?”
Though Safina’s knee throbbed, she feared if she complained overly much, Abby would take her back to Mrs. Jenkens’s house. She had not burst free of her prison only to be locked away again. Safina shrugged. “Only a little.”
“I’m sorry.” Abby squeezed Safina’s hand. “From now on
, I shall walk at a snail’s pace.” Then she reached into a skirt pocket, revealing two of the fragrant pastries from Mrs. Jenkens’s parlor. “Here. I saw you drooling over these. Moses truly does make the best molasses cookies.”
“Molasses cookies?” Safina eagerly took the offering and bit into sweet goodness. “Is that what these are named?”
“Yes.” Merriment danced in Abby’s eyes as Safina devoured one cookie and then reached for the other.
“Ohhh,” Safina moaned. “’Tis like sinking my mouth into warm, honeyed heaven.”
“You’re silly.” Abby chuckled, nudging Safina in the shoulder. “I like you.”
Despite the building pain in her knee, Safina smiled as warmth flooded her heart. For the first time in her life, she was making friends with a mortal. One more reason Safina could never return to her shell.
She was relieved when they set off again at a much slower pace. As they strolled alongside rows of elevated dwellings, the sand she had kicked up somehow found its way into her sturdy shoes. Again, she would not balk. The chafing of her skin was a welcome sensation after the endless dark sounds of the ocean. Safina arched a brow as the backs of familiar buildings came into view. They were walking behind the homes on Abby’s street. “Are we going back home so soon?”
“No, silly.” Abby laughed as they turned another corner. She nodded toward a long, wooden structure that shot out over the sea. “We’re going to the pier. We had to walk around the block so Nana didn’t see us.”
Safina gasped. “But your nana forbade you….”
“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.” There was no mistaking the mischievous sparkle in Abby’s eyes. And to think the girl had been unconscious just that morning.
A woman in a ruffled shirt and flowing dark skirt passed them. Her arm was joined with that of a gentlemen wearing a one of those funny black hats that Safina had seen on so many of the other Galveston men. They laughed merrily while stepping onto the planks which Safina assumed were part of the pier. Neither the man nor the woman seemed perturbed by the prospect of walking above the torrent, so Safina assumed the pier was sturdy enough. So how had Abby fallen off it?
