“Hey,” she said, looking up from the giant sheet of cupcakes she was painstakingly arranging in an elaborate display. The holder was shaped like a Ferris wheel, complete with a handle to rotate the buckets. Ingenious. In addition to handling weddings, Bridal Visions occasionally picked up other odd jobs, and today April was coordinating a birthday party for a six-year-old boy in the Midtown area. I’d heard the party was designed to be reminiscent of an old state fair, complete with face-painting and pony rides.
“Looks like you’re going to be having more fun than I will today.” I held up the handful of roses.
April smiled. “Yeah, this party is going to be a blast. The kid is an absolute cutie. You should have seen his face when mom told him about the pony rides.”
“I’ll bet.” I walked over and plopped into one of the showroom’s barstools. “Hey, you know the room Amanda had cleaned out at Relobu’s house for Myrna and Trian? The one she’s decided is being used as the gift room? Do you happen to know where all the furniture was relocated?”
She placed the last cupcake into the little swing bucket on the holder and dusted her hands. “No. Why?”
“Oh, no reason. I was just hoping to use one of the tables for Myrna and Trian’s guest book.”
“You might check with Amanda. I’m not sure who she had helping her with the logistics.”
I’d been afraid of that. In the normal course of business, I tried to avoid my boss whenever possible, but it wouldn’t kill me to check in. She’d be expecting an update on the flower situation though, so I said my goodbye to April, wished her luck with the party, and returned to my floral dungeon.
Three hours and twenty-six chair-bouquets later, I’d decided that if I ever got married, I would fake a pollen allergy and bypass flowers altogether.
The bell on the front door rang, and I heard Sara’s familiar voice as she stepped inside and started chatting with Glenda in the apparel room. I decided to join them for a visit, mostly to see if a break would help the feeling return to my overworked hands. Sara gave me a wave as I walked into the room, and I wandered over to where they were standing near the row of glaring mannequins.
“Bill called to tell me that a visiting contingent of African dragons dropped these off in his office just this morning.” She gave me a handful of RSVP envelopes. “This close to the date, I wanted you to have them sooner rather than later.”
I grimaced. “I’ll get them on the list and pray Amanda doesn’t notice.” We’d sent out the final numbers to the vendors just that morning. Amanda was going to go ballistic.
Sara gave me a helpless shrug. “It sucks. I’m sorry. But we can’t afford to turn them away.”
I shoved the entire stack into the pocket of my florist’s apron. “Not your fault. I’ll take care of it.”
Just then, the door opened and Cameron walked in. That sick sense of guilt crawled right back into my stomach, and I had to fight the urge to vomit when he met my eyes and smiled.
Unprepared to sort through all the feelings his appearance had caused, I turned to the two ladies, who had started up a conversation about the newest item to grace mannequin-row—a human-sized plastic rendering of a dragon modeling a colorful sash. Similar to the one Isiwyth would be wearing to the ceremony, it signaled to everyone on the street that Bridal Visions was proud to serve all their customers, both dragon and human
Doing my best to pretend Cameron wasn’t in the room, I made a comment about wing-jewelry as an option for formal dragon adornment. I caught a glance at the expression on his face when he realized I was deliberately ignoring him, and felt like I’d been punched.
My conscience was screaming that I was acting like a total child, but every time I’d almost worked up the courage to turn and acknowledge his presence, my brain froze.
“Savannah? Do you have a minute?”
The ladies paused when Cameron said my name, as if they too could feel the thick blanket of tension that was smothering the room.
I coughed, trying to remind myself how to breathe. “Of course.”
Without a word, Cameron headed toward the floral room, leaving me with no choice but to follow him down the hall. Once inside, I braced myself for argument and jumped when, instead of being slapped with demands for an explanation on my behavior, Cameron stepped toward me and I was enveloped by a set of strong arms, my cheek coming to rest against the solid plane of his chest.
He was hugging me. Before we’d met, I’d cost him his job. Now, I’d not only spent the last few weeks simultaneously flirting outrageously while lying to him through my teeth, I’d added outright rudeness to the list. And the man decides to hug me.
It was simply too much. I burst into tears. He only hugged me tighter, heedless of the fact that I was making a total mess out of the front of his shirt.
“Savannah, honey. What’s wrong? You’ve been acting odd since last night.”
I half laughed, half sobbed. He’d asked me what was wrong. But the better question was “What’s right?”
I stepped back and tried to pull myself together. “I’m fine. I’m good. It’s just been a really long day.”
“I heard about your niece. I’m sorry.”
His statement surprised me, making me realize that my guilt-induced avoidance had been in effect for quite some time. With everything going on, I hadn’t told him about Emma.
He noticed my confusion. “Jeanie called Relobu’s thinking you might be at the manor instead of the shop. She said Emma was fine, and the doctor should be stopping by this afternoon to sign the discharge papers. I told her I was on my way over here and would make sure the message was delivered.”
I sighed. “That’s good. I guess. Emma leaves the hospital today with a care plan four miles long. They have to stick her with needles, watch what she eats, and basically torture the poor thing constantly to make sure her blood sugar stays in line. At least until Simon and Jeanie can afford to get an implant that will do it all for them.”
“Expensive?”
I nodded. “Wildly. And no one will offer a loan for something like that. Not without a crap-ton of collateral that they don’t have.”
Oh, sure, Simon and Jeanie had plenty of things that would work for collateral. The problem was, very few of those items were easily accessible. Trucks, equipment, even a couple of houses—they were all buried under several layers of dummy businesses. Simon had plans to start unwinding some of our mazes when he got back home, but the process would take months. Most of our stuff was in Europe, and with my full-time job at Bridal Visions, I wouldn’t have the time to fly him back and forth across the pond for the loads of paperwork and foreign laws we’d have to trudge through.
No, the Tofegaard needed to be found and delivered to its new owner, pronto.
“Is there anything I can do?”
I sighed. “Right now, the only thing I need to do is get these roses finished.”
Cameron smiled. “Then I can help you with that.”
This man was perfect. Utterly perfect. And I was sick of taking advantage of him.
“I appreciate the offer, but I can—”
My words were cut short when an explosion rocked the floor under our feet.
* * *
My eyes met Cameron’s for a split second before we both took off running toward the room where Sara and Glenda had been talking only minutes before.
On the floor, mannequin limbs tangled with bits of fabric, splintered wood and shattered pieces of the large wall mirror. The place was a mess. But the thing that had me grabbing Cameron’s arm was Glenda, propped up against what was left of the fitting room wall, holding an unconscious Sara in her lap.
Together, Cameron and I skidded to a stop in front of the women, his hand going straight to the pulse point just under Sara’s jaw while I checked Glenda over. Satisfied that she had no life-threatening issues, I stepped back to give Cameron more room.
“What happened?”
Glenda, her glazed eyes never leaving Sara’s face,
responded in a numb monotone. “It was a box. A package. While we were talking, I noticed it sitting on the table.” I nodded when she gestured to the spot between the two fitting rooms where a small pedestal had once stood. The metal stand had been knocked to the ground, one of its legs bent at an awkward angle where it had hit the wall.
“I asked her to open it.” The poor woman’s lips trembled as she mentally retraced her steps.
Cameron looked up. “We need to get her to a hospital. She’s breathing, but there are third-degree burns on her arms, and I can’t be sure she doesn’t have other internal injuries from the force of the projectile.”
He lifted Sara’s shirt to reveal an ugly bruise just above her bellybutton, along with several deep lacerations. I grabbed some material from the floor at random, and shook it out to make sure it didn’t have any glass shards attached before pressing it against the biggest wound on her belly. Sara groaned and twitched, but she didn’t open her eyes.
She’d been relatively lucky that the explosion hadn’t been centered near her face; though she had several cuts and scrapes along her cheekbone, none of them seemed particularly serious. But, like Cameron, I was more concerned with the injuries we couldn’t see. I prayed I wasn’t causing additional damage with the pressure I’d applied.
Glenda put a fist against her teeth and moaned. “It was addressed to Myrna. Sara hadn’t ordered anything to be delivered here, but we thought it might be something important. Or even something from Trian. Sara said he’s always sending her little gifts at the office, and he’d mentioned picking up a present while he and Daniel were out of the country. We assumed he’d shipped it here so Myrna wouldn’t see it before the wedding. Sara didn’t even get it open before—”
Glenda’s words became unintelligible as she started to sob, but it was clear that the box had not come from Trian. And seeing that it had been in the very front portion of the shop, it could have been put there by anyone.
Right now, it didn’t matter. Sara’s eyes fluttered and she groaned, her hands twitching as she tried to lift her arms. “Ugh, my stomach.” Despite Cameron’s grip trying to keep her steady, Sara tried to sit up, but the movement had her whimpering in pain and falling back into Cameron’s chest. Her face had lost all color, and I watched as her eyes became unfocused, then rolled up into her head right before she once again lost her fight with consciousness. Was the bruise on her abdomen getting larger?
His mouth set in a grim line, Cameron looked to me. “I need you to call an ambulance.”
“If she’s really that hurt, it won’t get here in time.”
“We don’t have a choice.”
Glenda straightened from her slump. “There’s a blanket in the bakery showroom. I’ll go get it, just in case we need something to wrap her up in.” She stood, stumbling her way into the open hall. I let her go, hoping that having a specific task to complete would help to calm her.
I looked down at Sara. She was still pale as death, and the cut on her stomach had already seeped through my makeshift bandage. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath before opening them and locking my gaze with Cameron’s. “I think I have a better idea.”
In my dragon form, I could fly to the hospital faster than any vehicle could make it here.
It was probably stupid to think of the audience given the circumstances, but I found myself uncomfortable with the thought of having to watch Cameron’s face twist in disgust as I morphed. There wasn’t really another option. If I went into another room, I’d be forced to knock down a wall to get back to Sara, and I wasn’t sure the building could handle much more damage without putting Glenda and Cameron in danger.
I reached for the buttons on my shirt. I heard Glenda say something then stumble her way into the cake room, but I couldn’t take my gaze from Cameron. As I shrugged out of my blouse, his only reaction was a slight raising of his brow. When I started to shuck my pants, he looked confused.
Not exactly the reaction I’d dreamed about for the first time I got naked in front of Cameron Shaw.
Knowing that I had to keep my mind clear if I had any chance of pulling this off, I let my attention drop to Sara. Using her still face as my anchor, I focused all my will on the beating pump of my heart, praying that Trian’s theories on our change being blood-centric would result in a lightning-fast switch to my mostly-dragon form.
It wasn’t as comfortable as my practice with feet and fingers, but the transformation also felt like it was moving much faster than my pre-Trian morphing events. Barely a minute later, I’d become completely scaly, and turned to face two stunned humans.
Once again avoiding Cameron’s eyes, I held out my still-human hands. In dragonspeak, I addressed him. “Hand her to me, and find someplace to take cover. I’m going to have to go out the roof.” There was a brief pause, and then Cameron was in motion. He didn’t even attempt to ask me any questions, but helped maneuver Sara into place. Using my arms, I did my best to keep pressure off Sara’s stomach while holding her against my belly.
Once I had her secure, I chanced a look at Cameron, but his face was an unreadable mask.
“I’m taking Glenda home, and then I need to come back here and figure out whether there’s anything we can use to track the person that did this.” His tone was cool, no trace of the man who’d hugged me only minutes before.
Unwilling to risk the horrible sound that might come out of my mouth if I cried in dragon form, I gave him a nod and watched as he made his way back to find Glenda. Waiting until he was out of sight, I tucked Sara’s limp form as close as I could, stabilized her head, and pulled my wings in to lay flat against my back.
Ducking my head, I jumped, and felt the ceiling give way. I waited, my body providing a shield for Sara as the worst of the plaster rained down around us, then I jumped again, tearing a hole through the roof. A third jump had us clearing the structure, and as soon as I was able, I slapped my wings out to pull us airborne.
* * *
Turns out, it was surprisingly easy to keep my focus on my hybrid form when someone’s life was on the line. What I hadn’t figured out was what to do when Sara woke mid-flight. When she first started to stir, I opened my mouth to offer reassurance, but quickly changed my mind when a gravelly rumble came out instead of a gentle whisper.
Waking up to a dragon’s roar was probably not the best idea in this case. I made an attempt to morph my vocal cords, but stopped immediately when I realized I couldn’t hold the form of my human hands at the same time. I wouldn’t be able to speak to calm her down. I could only fly faster, and hope she wouldn’t hurt herself if she managed to regain consciousness.
My luck held, and I managed to swoop into the ambulance bay just as Sara’s movements became more forceful. This time I did use my roar, causing several scrub-clad people to spill from the double doors. But they all stopped short at the sight of me—not a single one of the dozens of medical staffers were willing to approach a full-sized dragon.
In the heavy silence I heard the click of a camera. I swung my head around, trying to locate the source. Sure enough, a man stood near the back of the group holding a piece of equipment that could only belong to a professional photographer. The woman beside him, a chunky blonde wearing a pair of khaki pants and an orange shirt, scribbled madly into a spiral notebook and shot him terse orders. In response, he wove through the crowd for another angle, the shutter on his camera going a mile a minute.
It was, of course, pointed directly at me. I had no doubt a photo of me holding an unconscious female would make front page, above the fold in tomorrow’s paper.
And still, no one made a move to help Sara.
I could have morphed back into my human form, but I couldn’t—Emma couldn’t—afford the type of publicity that would bring. Considering I was blatantly displaying a set of human hands, it was all-too obvious that I was a dragon morph. Showing my human face would pretty much guarantee I’d never again be able to blend into a crowd. Just like Trian, I’d attract attention and whis
pers wherever I went.
And while I doubted I’d lose my job at Bridal Visions over this—Amanda would probably rope me into posing as the poster-child for dragon fashion—it sure as hell would make any future gigs that much harder to pull off.
Good or bad, news of the existence of dragon morphs had the entire world stirred up. I hadn’t exaggerated about the extent of coverage Trian’s movements garnered. Even if I managed to complete this job, Simon and Jeanie and I would be forever paused on the edge of a cliff, waiting for the time when a random person with a dragon fetish pulled out a copy of the paper and compared the grainy photo to my face.
I’d be forced to sit out of operations until the world forgot me again, just when the sale of the Tofegaard would have our status raised and offers pouring in, giving us a chance to really challenge Prometheus for a decent share of the market.
No, I couldn’t change back into my human form, but I had to do something. I moved forward, trying to look as harmless as possible for Sara’s sake. “Somebody please help her. She’s badly injured.”
But no one understood my words. Thinking I was angry, my frantic roars caused the crowd to skitter away, like a colony of cockroaches when the lights were turned on.
It was no use. Sara was covered in blood and held by a dragon. I couldn’t blame them for being afraid. So I did the only thing I could think of. I placed her gently on the ground and flew away.
I mean, I knew I was in the business of getting out of uncomfortable situations by fleeing as fast as I could fly, but lately, it was really getting on my nerves.
Chapter Sixteen
I didn’t expect to go far. In fact, I’d decided I would simply fly a block or so away, morph back into my human skin, and walk back to the hospital. But all the frustrated roaring I’d done had the humans actively looking into the air and taking cover. While my dark scales were quite easy to hide against a night sky, they didn’t do so well during daylight hours, and it took me a while to find an empty alley without the fear of encountering a mob armed with pitchforks and division-of-the-species-flavored religious fervor. There were groups out there who would call me and my abilities a gift of the devil, and I had no wish to encounter them without my scaly armor. There were really good reasons I didn’t morph in public.
'Til Dragons Do Us Part (Never Deal with Dragons) Page 15
