by Ladew, Lisa
The body elongated, then red wings with a white underside began to take form as she pulled and swirled to create perfect flutes and embossments. She put down one tube and picked up her tweezers to crimp and fashion, then put that down to pull out a tiny, deadly claw on the tip of one wing, using only fire and the glass tube she had retrieved.
Perfect.
Corralling her breathing, which wanted to increase in anticipation, Heather finished the other wing, then moved on to the front legs, the neck, and finally the head. Two hundred and thirty-two tries ago, the tail and back of the dragon had been a mess. Now, they were perfect. The front legs she got right most of the time. The head and face had always eluded her… until today.
She gritted her teeth and concentrated harder, her shoulder and upper back muscles screaming. She put them on mute and touched the tubes together again, teasing what she wanted to see out of the glowing glass.
Until the door to the studio slammed open, hitting the wall behind it with a crashing noise. The glass tubes rattled in their containers, their sound rather musical.
Heather jumped, her concentration completely blown. She knew who it was immediately, even though it should not have been possible. Only one person would dare make an entrance like that.
“Oh my God, you’re ok!” her mother wailed, then ran across the room toward her. Heather could hear her shoes slapping on the concrete floor of the shed.
“Mom, no, I’m─” She might as well have not spoken. Her mother barreled across the room and tried to grab her around the shoulders in a passive-aggressive hug. Heather saw the hands coming and did what she had to do to protect her mother. She dropped the glass tubes, with the dragon still attached, onto her work surface, flung her arms wide to catch her mother’s arms, and pressed her body backwards, trying to keep her mother from being burnt on the torch.
Her mom’s weight toppled her, though, and she leaned forward involuntarily, her sweatshirt catching on the flame and a hole burning in it immediately, but not spreading. She jerked her body backwards, pushing her mother with her, putting her hand down on the board in front of her for leverage, unwittingly smashing her still-glowing dragon.
“Damn it, Mother, you can’t do shit like this! How many times do I have to tell you?” She stood, pushing her mom away with one hand, while turning off the torch with the other hand, that felt strangely gummy.
Her mother gasped and stared at her hand. Heather looked down to see part of the glass she had been working with cooling on the outer edge of her palm.
“Your hand! How many times have I told you not to do this kind of thing! You’re bur─”
Her mother’s sentence cut off and she looked into Heather’s eyes, a heavy, unspoken accusation cutting through the air between them. Heather stared at her mother’s perfectly coifed hair, her smart afternoon suit, and her perfectly lipsticked mouth, and finally realized that her mother would never change. No matter what Heather said or did, her mother would always be exactly the same. The realization held so much weight, it flattened her.
Heather moved her body between her mother and her mother’s view of the worktable and wiped the cooling glass off her hand. “I’m fine, Mom,” she mumbled, her thoughts whirling as she tried to figure out what the realization meant.
She turned back to her mother, who took a shaky step backwards, then seemed to gather her courage and speak. “Yes, you’re fine. You’re careful. I didn’t do anything. And it wasn’t on there for long, right? It’s just a small burn, right?”
Heather hid her perfectly unblemished skin behind her back. “Just a tiny one mom. I’ll put some cream on it. It will heal quickly.”
Judith Herrin nodded smartly and looked down, speaking softly. “You didn’t answer your phone. For two days now. That’s why I had to come over here.”
Heather spoke just as softly. “How did you find the address?”
Her mother smiled brightly and laughed. “You gave it to me. You know that.”
Turning quickly, so her mother wouldn’t see the incredulity she couldn’t keep off her face, Heather faced her workbench and the lumpy mess that should have been her beautiful dragon. She shook her head, both at the wreck behind her and the one in front of her. She double-checked that her torch was off, then picked up what was left of the dragon and placed it in the bin of vermiculite to cool slowly. She couldn’t salvage it, but she would still examine it, see if there was anything to learn for next time.
She turned, still hiding her hand from her mother, then nodded toward the door. Judith pulled it open and headed outside easily, happily, her head bobbing slightly. Heather bit her tongue. She didn’t want to move out of this house, but she had to put a lock on her studio door, maybe rig an alarm to tell her if anyone pulled in the driveway. Mommy surprises were never a good thing, especially when Mommy’s sense of boundaries was eroding more each day.
“Heather, dear, I don’t know why you have to have all those animals in your living room. How do you expect to have guests over?”
So, she’d been in the house. That’s what Heather got for leaving the door unlocked in her safe neighborhood. “Guests over for what, Mom?”
“I don’t know, boyfriends maybe, doesn’t your generation do that kind of thing? Netflix and relax? Don’t you need a couch and a TV for that?”
It’s Netflix and chill, and that means fuck, Mom. We only do that at his place. The retort sprung to her lips but she bit it back. The joke would get her days, maybe months, worth of grilling about who he was. Judith staunchly refused to believe there was no he. Never had been.
“Anyway, I had to come ask you if you were coming to dinner tomorrow. You didn’t answer me on Saturday and you haven’t answered any of my phone calls since. Your father wants you there. He has something to tell you.”
Heather stared at the back of her mother’s head as they walked across the lawn, knowing that was code for, I have decided to meddle in your life, but I want you to think it was your father’s decision.
Her mother walked through the sliding glass door she had left open for some reason, even though it was October and relatively cool, then pushed quickly through all the plants and past Falcon, who blinked warily at her from his perch. Heather knew her mother didn’t see any of the green anoles in the branches above her head, or she’d be screaming.
Internally, Heather sighed heavily. There was no sense not going to dinner, especially now that her mother had her address. Besides, it would be nice to see Jimmy.
“Yeah, Mom, I’ll be there.” From near the door, her phone started ringing and she hurried past her mother to get to it, glad for the reprieve. “I’ve been waiting for a call, Mom. You should probably go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She pulled the phone out of her bag and clicked the answer button, opening the front door for her mom and trying to usher her that way with her body. “Hello?”
“Mrs. Herrin?” a deep and somehow provocative male voice said.
“This is Heather Herrin,” she said, frowning, wondering if whoever it was really wanted her mother.
“Who is it?” her mother whispered, standing on her tiptoes to try to see the portion of the screen that wasn’t pressed against Heather’s face.
Heather shook her head and opened the screen door with one hand, pushing her mother onto the porch with the other. “Not now, Mom, it’s important. Iloveyoubye,” she said, closing the door in her mom’s face and locking it.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?” she said into the phone.
“Are you the herpetologist?”
Heather frowned and looked at the phone. Blocked number. She held it back to her ear. “No. I’m not.”
The man sounded flustered, but still the overt sexuality in his voice was there. Almost like he was purring at her. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’d heard─”
She interrupted him, not liking the way he sounded. She’d never met him. He had no business talking to her like she was the most delicious donut in the box. “If by herpetologist, yo
u mean a zoologist who studies reptiles and amphibians, then no, you’ve got the wrong gal. I’m no zoologist and I don’t follow amphibians. I do, however, rescue reptiles and know quite a bit about them. But I don’t have any degrees to professionalize me.”
“Oh, that’s fine, I just need a bit of advice on a, a reptile issue I’m having. I got your name from Dr. Caledonia, the vet over on 5th street.”
His voice hadn’t cooled at all with her clipped tone and harsh explanation. Maybe he didn’t even know he was doing it. She sighed and softened a bit, but just a bit. “And you are?”
“Doctor Remington Gilman.”
She frowned and searched for a pad of paper and pen to scribble that name down. She knew all the veterinarians in the area, even the ones who worked only on farm animals and she’d never heard of a Dr. Gilman. “What can I help you with, Dr. Gilman?”
“I’ve got a, well, a type of dragon here, and he’s not doing well. He’s in a bit of a coma, and we’ve been taking blood from him─”
She interrupted again, anger rising. “What type of a dragon?”
“Well, I’m not exactly sure. One of the big ones, but─”
“You can’t possibly mean a Komodo Dragon? Is this a pet?”
“The ah, the owner didn’t say, and I don’t have the experience to know, and, well, I just need to ask you a few qu─”
“Send me a picture of it. Right now.”
“No, well, I’m afraid that’s not possible.”
Heather took a deep breath and tried to keep herself from yelling at the man. He clearly had no idea what he was doing, but he couldn’t possibly have a Komodo Dragon, one of the deadliest lizards in the world. She needed to back off a bit and let him speak, get more information from him. “Ok, tell me what’s wrong with it, what you need to know.”
His voice warmed to the point that she almost couldn’t stand to listen to him. “He’s unresponsive. And his blood is turning green.”
Heather pulled the phone away from her ear again and stared at it. Biliverdin overload in a Komodo Dragon? Or any type of pet lizard? She spoke automatically, bringing the phone back to her face. “It could be some sort of toxin overload,” she said slowly. “But I’ve never heard of such a thing domestically. What is the icterus index?”
The other end of the line was silent for a long moment, and Heather pressed the phone to her ear harder. She could hear a cat meowing in the background, so she knew he was still on the line. If he hadn’t determined an icterus index, he was a complete and total amateur. Maybe even an imposter.
“Dr. Gilman, I must see this lizard. I can help it, I know I can, but only if you let me see it. I-ah, I won’t report you, or anything.”
She heard a click in her ear as the line went dead.
Chapter 4
Early the next morning, Heather drove down the residential street, looking for the address her little brother, Jimmy, had found for her by working some sort of magic she didn’t understand on his computer. She got lizards on a very deep level. She got fire on maybe a deeper one. Most of the rest of the world was a puzzle to her, and what Jimmy could do with a connection to the Internet definitely qualified as the latter.
The address loomed on her right and she slowed to a crawl, passing by it once, trying to formulate a plan. It wasn’t a vet’s office, unfortunately. Or maybe it was. The two-story, white-panel house with the large porch looked just sanitary enough and unlived-in enough to be a business in a residential area. She passed and turned around at the end of the street to make another pass.
The asphalt driveway was widened enough to accommodate the entire front of the house so that four cars could park side by side, but there were no white lines and no signs announcing a business. Heather parked on the street and watched the place. No movement in the windows, no car in the driveway, no signs of life at all. Oh, except a black and white cat sauntering down the front porch steps and disappearing under a hedge. That meant nothing, though. Vet’s offices frequently had live-in cats. To the left of the house, a worn path led to what looked to be more woods than backyard. There were houses on either side, but nothing behind.
She twisted the keys to turn off the car. She had to at least try. If Doctor Gilman really knew someone with a Komodo Dragon, they had to be warned it was deadly. She’d never rescued a Komodo before, but she’d be happy to help. Maybe even thrilled. Even if it wasn’t a Komodo, she wanted to get a look at it, offer advice. Fix it, if she could.
Heather got out of the car and walked into the driveway, nervous tension biting at her midsection as the cool fall air whistled against her face. What if he called the cops on her? A run-in with the law was something she did not want to deal with, especially with her nocturnal … issues lately. She pressed her lips together and pushed that out of her mind. The last thing she needed right now was to admit she was probably as crazy as her mother. Ah, genetics, what a fun kick-in-the-ass by nature.
As she got closer, she could tell the screen door was closed, but the heavy door inside was open. So, someone was around. She took a deep breath and stepped up onto the porch, all the way to the door, then knocked heavily.
Nothing. No one moved inside. Something rustled behind her and she turned to see an orange tabby cat dart across the steps and disappear. Ok. She knocked again. “Dr. Gilman?”
A low, deep, rumbling moan sounded from inside the house, startling her. She jumped, then chastised herself for it as she leaned forward and tried to see inside. That had been a man. Maybe someone was hurt?
A large room opened up, looking like something her late grandmother would have loved. A lovely and expensive-looking grandfather clock stood against a wall to the right of the room. An immaculate fireplace graced the back wall, and a horrifically ugly flower-patterned settee sat directly in the middle of the room. Other than that, two uncomfortable-looking wooden benches along the left wall were the only other places to sit. There was no TV, no books, no coffee table or magazines.
She craned her head, trying to see what was along the front wall. A table with colorful brochures? Ah, so it was a business. Could she just walk in? She grasped the door and pulled it open, stepping inside, meaning to call out again as she did so, but the draft of the door opening pulled with it the loveliest scent she’d ever smelled in her life, momentarily disarming her. Red hots and cinnamon, mixed with the smell of seasoned black-cherry wood on an open fire. She stopped and took a deep breath through her nose as the screen door slammed behind her.
It smelled wonderful, but didn’t make her think of food, like good smells frequently did. Instead, an image of her snuggling with a man in front of an open fire came to her. He was big and he had his arm around her. He turned to her and whispered in her ear, his breath tickling the fine hairs on her neck, and she laughed in her imagination and tried to catch his mouth with hers because she just knew he would taste spicy and sweet and oh-so─
A meow from outside brought Heather back to the present. What in the hell was she doing? Going all daydream-zombie in some stranger’s house/business/whatever?
She clasped her hands into hard fists to try to steady herself. “Dr. Gilman?” she called again, weakly.
That deep, rumbling moan sounded again and she spun to her right, where she heard it from. A partially-closed door blocked her view of whatever was in there, but she knew at once that was where the smell─ that heavenly smell she wanted to taste─ was coming from. She took a step, then another, acutely aware of her right hand as it reached out to push the door open.
A man lay in a hospital bed, breathing shallowly and much too quickly. She could see his chest rising and falling so fast he seemed in pain. But he was still the most gorgeous and distinguished-looking man she’d ever seen. The bit of silver and gray at his temples and scruff, plus the lines on his face, told her he was probably close to her father’s age, which made him forty-five or fifty. Dark tattoos like spiky vines on his left arm and swirly flowers on his right caught her eye, intriguing her, almost overwhel
ming her. She took another step forward, willing his closed eyes to open. Wishing deeply that he would look at her, talk to her. A need to know him intimately filled her so deeply she physically balked, but pushed forward anyway.
He was huge, and not wearing a gown or shirt. She could see his bare shoulders and part of his chest before the sheet interrupted her view. She didn’t know men like this existed in real life. His chest looked like he’d spent a lifetime lifting heavy things, possibly heaving them into space. Even with how muscular he was, though, she could tell he was sick, or injured. His skin lay loosely over his muscles, and he seemed to have no fat between the two, like maybe he hadn’t eaten in too long? Even while she thought that, she realized he didn’t have the look of a man who was sleeping, but rather a man who was unconscious.
But how could that be? The lovely smell was coming from him, she knew it, and it wasn’t a sickly smell. It was robust, inviting, and exceedingly healthy. It made her think of sex and babies and─ her heart skipped a beat at that last word and her stomach turned slightly. No babies for her. But still she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the beast in the bed. Boy, did she mean that as a compliment!
She wanted to lean forward and sniff him, see if he was wearing cologne, but she settled for reaching out her hand slowly, watching it go out from her in the same way she’d watched it push the door open. His own hand, thick, veiny, and strong-looking, lay on his chest, the fingers slightly curled and tense. She had to touch his skin. Felt like she would die if she didn’t know the relative smoothness of it.
A yellow spark of static electricity jumped from him to her. She saw it in slow motion, like a tiny bolt of lightning reaching up for her, honing in on her, claiming her. The spark didn’t hurt, no, it soothed, calmed, and she felt the flickering sensation spread through her hand, then up her arm to her neck and head, then envelope her entire body like a cold flame. She shuddered as it dissipated, feeling a lovely heat in her core that made her shift her legs and notice a hot throbbing that hadn’t been there before. Like her entire being had been instantaneously sexualized in a way she’d never experienced.
