Southern Fried Dragon

by Nancy Lee Badger

  Dru made a nasal sound and emitted a tiny tendril of smoke.

  He smiled. This is Dru Little. If I want her as my wife, I must accept the good with the surreal.

  “Besides,” he said, smiling down at her, “You will never get me in the air.”

  “Fine, ye told me yer afraid to fly. However, I shall keep my ears open,” she said, wiggling them between her fingers, “and will return to this spot, same time of night, should the news endanger yer life. Agreed?”

  Shaw nodded. He hated the idea that she would be taking a chance someone might see her, but no one had as yet. If she could supply his regiment with military information, why not?

  “Agreed. Now, go home. Be careful.” Shaw pulled her into his arms and ravaged her mouth, deepening the kiss until she softened into his embrace. Heat and passion rose, but he slowly set her aside. Taking too many chances was dangerous.

  “I love you, Shaw Stenhouse.” Dru kissed her fingertips, laid them against his mouth, and turned. At the edge of the balustrade, she jumped.

  Shaw fought the urge to run to the edge. Keeping to the shadows, he spied a lonely figure rise toward the night sky and flap its large wings. For a moment, he could have sworn a larger shadow followed her.

  My eyes are playing tricks on me. Isn't it enough that the woman I love is a dragon? What have I gotten myself into?

  * * * * *

  Dru slipped in her bedroom window, and locked it behind her. Had Shaw spotted the large black shadow, as it followed her home? A shadow, black as night and twice her size?

  She undressed, and lay on her bed. Her body hummed with the memory of their lovemaking. Desire, pleasure, and a heart-stopping climax were nothing, compared to the love she felt for the human. Considering she never meant to seek a permanent relationship with a human, why this man?

  He told her that questions filled his head. Maybe it would be better if she and Shaw discussed all avenues of their relationship once the danger had passed.

  Dru tossed and turned for the remainder of the night. When the morning sun peeked through her window, it brought memories of Shaw. She loved how his kisses tasted.

  Yummy.

  Rising, she stretched while her ravenous stomach growled. She skipped down the stairs. The aroma of fresh baked bread made her fangs distend. Dru forced them back, smiled, and listened to Maggie humming in the kitchen.

  Early on, Dru learned Maggie enjoyed rising before the dawn. Not her. If Mistress Cumberland stayed away, the day would turn out fine. Maybe a few interesting patrons would dine at the inn, today and take her mind off Shaw.

  Dru looked forward to eavesdropping, too. Her dragon’s superior sense of hearing would garner helpful information without putting her life in jeopardy. If war lay on the horizon, she wanted to know. If hostilities escalated, Shaw might die.

  Tying her apron around her hungry stomach, Dru smiled at Maggie.

  “Up to yer elbows in flour, again?”

  “Aye, lass. Look lively. The mistress ordered more of everything. Some big military meeting going on here, today.”

  “Here? Are ye sure?” The implications were astronomical. Dru would take every opportunity to eavesdrop. How fortunate. She could gather information, without having to leave home.

  “Aye. Start cutting biscuits while I get these loaves done. Then go tap the cider barrels. They do not want ale muddling up their work. Put the large kettle on to boil for tea.”

  “Are we serving them lunch?”

  “They’ll be here after the lunch rush, but we’ll serve fried chicken wings, biscuits, and lemon tarts. Mistress Cumberland promised to close the restaurant until the dinner hour. Very secret business, I guess. ‘Tis a bad thing, I’m feeling.”

  Dru nodded, not sure how she felt. If the military men met over drinks and biscuits to discuss ending the siege of Fort Sumter, she’d welcome the news. However, if they planned an attack, Shaw’s only hope was her ability to overhear the discussion.

  Unfortunately, while she served the lunch crowd, Dru learned nothing. The townsfolk mumbled rumors of a secret meeting. Word had spread. When several men asked her, Dru professed no knowledge of any special event.

  “The restaurant is closing for some minor repairs,” she said as instructed. Whether they believed her or not, she didn’t care. She looked forward to the meeting. With any news worth sharing, she would soon fly off to see Shaw.

  Mistress Cumberland, nervous to a fault, snipped at Dru and Maggie until Maggie pulled her aside.

  “Mistress,” Maggie said, “calm yerself. We are ready for yer special guests, but ye are making poor Dru so nervous, she’ll probably spill hot tea down the general’s uniform.”

  “How did you know General Beauregard is coming here?” Suspicion glared from her scrunched face and straightened back.

  “I guessed. Military men having a secret meeting? I would expect no one less in command. Welcome them, show them to their table, then lock the front and kitchen doors. Dru and I will keep their plates brimming with fried chicken wings, biscuits, and my lemon tarts. Their tankards will stay filled with cider. Leave their comfort to us, aye?”

  Mistress Cumberland nodded, but did not stop wringing her hands. She headed for the dining hall, hurried the locals along, then locked the double front doors after the last man had left. Dru sensed the woman’s nerves were still on edge when she peeked through the window curtains again. A knock rattled the doors. Mistress Cumberland jumped.

  Dru giggled softly at the woman's nervousness, and kept to the shadows. She strained to glimpse their important, albeit dangerous, visitors. A tall, broad-shouldered man strode in through the front doors, dressed all in black, not in uniform. Dru’s dragon senses went on full alert. When the man’s gaze roamed the room, even as he listened to her employer’s banter, she knew the minute he sensed Dru’s presence. The stranger's glare made her throat tighten and her heart race. He was certainly a handsome man, But dangerous.

  Do I know him?

  CHAPTER 12

  Dru doubted they had ever met. She would have remembered a face like his, yet something about his stance seemed familiar. She inhaled his scent. Something about him made her turn her gaze away.

  From the corner of her eye, the man in black glanced away. He followed Mistress Cumberland to the large table in the corner. Candlelight flickered off his coal-black hair, and the fire from the roaring hearth reflected in his black eyes. He shrugged out of his long traveling coat. His black clothing molded to his body. Two massive shoulders shrugged when he ignored Mistress Cumberland’s nod toward a chair. Instead, he leaned his bulk against a wall and faded into shadow.

  Dru fanned her face, forced her dry throat to swallow, and returned to the safety of the kitchen.

  “Ye look like you’ve seen a ghost, lass.”

  “Maybe. A man arrived. Not a soldier. He reminds me of someone.”

  “Who?” Maggie paused, and clapped her flour-covered hands together.

  Dru shook her head. What could she say? Was the stranger someone from her dreams? Had she seen such a man among the Highlanders of Scotland? No sense worrying. She had work to do or Mistress Cumberland would scold her again.

  Rolling her shoulders, and averting her eyes, Dru strode back into the tavern. She placed a basket of bread and another filled with buttermilk biscuits on the table designated for their special guests. Pots of fresh-churned butter came next. On a table shoved against one wall, she set pitchers of cider and well water. They'd serve the lemon tarts after the men consumed their fill of Maggie's delicious southern fried chicken wings. Linen napkins and hand-polished silver waited patiently, unlike Dru. She desperately wanted this day to end.

  Mistress Cumberland bubbled and mewed as each uniformed man entered her establishment. The men exchanged slight nods. Murmurs filled the hall, coaxing Dru to change her dirty apron. She tidied her hair by pulling it back into a severe bun, then pinched her cheeks. She'd learned from Maggie that men talked more openly in front of a pretty face.
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br />   The conversation started out casual, with talk of good fishing and success at bird hunting. Dru forced a smile as she served cider or water, and kept her eyes slanted downward, as expected of a serving wench. As she moved around the table, the man in black’s eyes followed her.

  Where do I know him from?

  “You are much prettier than the darkies,” one man, a captain, said. His low whisper was gentle, and his tone seemed more kind than lewd.

  “I thank ye, sir.”

  “An accent. Where are you from, my lovely?”

  His hand rose, as if he meant to touch her face, then quickly slid against the underside of her breast. The captain’s interest had changed from light to dark in a heartbeat. Uncomfortable, Dru stepped around him to fill his neighbor’s tankard. “I be from Scotland, near the northern coast of the Isle of Skye, but I call Charleston home.”

  “The Scots breed the most beautiful of women in such a harsh and desolate climate.”

  Dru froze.

  The black-haired stranger’s comment silenced the room. Unable to help herself, she glanced in his direction. He stood in the corner with his arms crossed, staring back. A slight smile turned his devilish façade to one of mirth.

  Blazes! I remember those eyes.

  Not wanting to show she’d noticed, and unwilling to delve too far into her history in front of the men, she gave him and the soldiers a curt nod, and moved away. The captain’s gloved fingers tightened around her wrist, stopping her from completing her job of serving the others.

  “Unhand the woman, Captain. We are here to work, not play,” the black-haired man said. His voice was low and too soft to match his bulk.

  “Who are you to order me around? You’re just a courier. Keep your mouth shut.”

  The stranger’s eyes flared and his grin turned to the straight-lipped visage of a man losing control. Only Dru realized he wasn’t a man. She inhaled, and swallowed his scent even deeper, the most accurate way to discern his origins.

  The Black Dragon. Blazes! What is he doing here?

  “Unhand the woman and ignore Mr. MacCrave. He has brought us vital information, and is a trusted guest at this table,” said the man Dru assumed was General Beauregard.

  The other officer grumbled, then released Dru. Freed, she continued around the table. When she reached the general’s elbow, she whispered her thanks.

  “Think nothing of it, madam. My men are lonely. Once the war begins in earnest, I fear they will not see their homes for many months.”

  His statement chilled her to the bone, if what he said held possibilities. The general expected war. Keeping close to the table, but far from the man they called Mr. MacCrave, she inched her way toward the kitchen. Maggie stood in the doorway and pressed a platter of wings into Dru’s hand.

  “Did I hear ye tell that man with the roaming fingers that yer from the islands? Ye told me yer from the slums of Inverness.”

  “The man ‘twas too familiar with me, so I told a tale,” she whispered to her friend. Dru hated lying to Maggie. She’d sorely miss Maggie once the fighting started and she and Shaw flew far away.

  After serving the crusty fried chicken wings to the uniformed men, her conscience moved her to offer the platter of succulent spiced meat to the black dragon. Ignoring the man would raise suspicion. With his gaze on her face, he slowly removed a black glove, picked up a wing, popped it into his mouth, and swallowed.

  Bones and all.

  When he licked his lips and grinned, shivers raced up and down Dru’s human spine. Doing her best to ignore him, Dru turned and raced back to the kitchen. Grabbing a platter of lemon tarts, she threw back her shoulders, raised her chin, and returned to the main table.

  If he wants a tart he can get it himself.

  As she filled the tea cups for several of the officers, Dru listened. The conversation took a sudden turn, when two young officers shoved aside cups and plates before she could collect them. One soldier unfurled a large map upon the table. Murmurs grew, tension spiked, and Dru did her best to listen.

  And learn.

  When the general beckoned, the Black Dragon strode forward. The general whispered in his ear, and the man passed around the missive he carried.

  “Are you sure?” one man asked after reading it.

  The black dragon nodded. “A federal ship will arrive any day.”

  “We kept ships like The Star of the West from delivering food and ammo,” the general said. Several soldiers grunted in agreement.

  “A stroke of luck. I've learned that another ship will deliver more food. Also, hundreds of federal soldiers are aboard.”

  “If they safely reach Fort Sumter, our siege will be for naught. We must act,” an officer said.

  All eyes turned to General Beauregard. Dru listened while she pretended to gather the silver. She tiptoed toward the table laden with pitchers, leaned against a wall, and kept her eyes averted. She dared not move until the general replied.

  “Then, we shall attack first. Inform the batteries on both Morris and Johnson Islands to prepare for battle. Once we have turned back or destroyed the ship, we will demand that Major Anderson surrender the fort.”

  “Are you sure this is the sensible course of action, General?” Mr. MacCrave asked.

  Several officers glanced from him to the general. Dru couldn’t hide her interest, either. The Black Dragon, eerily familiar in his human form, locked his black gaze on her. She shivered.

  Beauregard nodded. Dru looked away, gathered up a stack of dirty dishes, and walked toward the kitchen.

  “What of the soldiers at the fort? Are they to be prisoners of war?” another man asked him.

  “No. We have no need for prisoners. We want them off our land, and out of our territories. We shall allow them safe passage home via a ship of their choosing.”

  “They should all be shot.”

  Dru whirled around, and nearly dropped the plates. She gasped at the man in black. His horrid statement caused several officers to jump to their feet, teacups flying, and she hurried to the kitchen to grab a cleaning cloth. A horrible thought stole her breath. Had the creature, her former lover, voiced his opinion in order to cause her pain?

  He knows about Shaw.

  Others began talking at once. Dru had no need to listen any further, and slipped into the kitchen. What she’d heard must have shown on her face. Maggie sighed, then collapsed with a grunt into a rickety kitchen chair.

  “War?”

  Dru nodded as she stacked the dirty plates on the counter. “Do not say I said so. They might not act too kindly. I eavesdropped.”

  “I will try to act surprised.”

  “When they spoke about the regiment stationed at Fort Sumter, one man said they ought to shoot the soldiers.”

  Horror etched Maggie’s face. She cupped a hand over her mouth, stood abruptly, and headed for the privy.

  I know how she feels.

  Dru had to get this information to Shaw. She needed to remove him from the fort before artillery rained down upon him and his men.

  Tonight.

  Tonight would be soon enough. The general’s messengers needed time to reach the places mentioned, and more time for them to ready their guns.

  She hoped.

  However, if the Black Dragon had joined the ranks of secessionist messengers, there was no hope. The beast could fly across the harbor, turn into his human persona, and spread the news within the hour. Hopelessness was a useless emotion. She would think of something. In the meantime, she grabbed a clean cloth, sucked in a breath, and returned to the dining hall. She'd keep an eye on the Black Dragon, and find out what else he planned.

  She loved Shaw, a human, with her entire being. She'd fallen fast and hard, when she only meant to end her loneliness. Shaw Stenhouse brought more to the table than companionship. No one-time lover dare try to put a wedge between what they'd found. Nothing could change the love in her heart, and if it meant killing the other dragon to keep Shaw by her side, Dru would not hesitat
e to accomplish that feat.

  * * * * *

  “I have a bad feeling,” Shaw said to his companion. The older corporal leaned against the wall that housed the fort’s enlisted men’s quarters. Others inspected and cleaned the guns facing the dozens of batteries aimed at Fort Sumter. A fort under siege needed its soldiers to be combat ready at all times.

  Though they had not witnessed any aggression by way of the southern militia forces, Shaw realized that Major Anderson knew General Beauregard—he’d trained the man at West Point, and feared the man who’d risen through the ranks faster than the major. With that in mind, they kept the few guns they had positioned in the partially completed fort ready and waiting.

  The sun lay low against the western shore, and with it went the warm breezes of early April. The nights were still chilly so he ordered the enlisted men to finish their duties then head inside to supper.

  A large pelican dipped, and then plummeted into the sea. He grinned when the feathered creature surfaced in a plume of white foam. As the bird headed toward the island of nesting seafowl a fish tail flapped in its beak, a sudden image arose of Dru eating and flying in the same manner. It blinded him, but only for a moment. When his vision cleared, he ran nervous fingers through his hair, knocking his hat to the ground. A slight breeze pushed it toward the edge.

  The corporal ran and intercepted it. He brushed it off and handed it to Shaw. “Lieutenant? Are you ill?”

  Shaw turned to the man. Had he fallen asleep? The nightmare filling his head with dark, terrifying images seemed very real. “I’m fine. More tired than I realized.”

  “Best get to bed early. I notice how you walk the sea-facing balustrade late into the night.”

  He’d noticed his walks? What if Dru had happened upon him while his fellow soldiers watched? Explaining Dru would prove impossible.

  “The walk relaxes me. Sea air and all.”

  “You were walking a bit stiff today.” The man chuckled and walked away.