The water in Bentha’s bath was now tepid and I heated it to steaming once again. Iris touched my ankle. “Someone’s at the door.”
Everyone froze for a second. I’m sure my face looked like all of theirs, totally panicked. We had a mostly dead ponderosa floating in a tub. Not to mention a phalanx.
“Get up,” I whispered.
They jumped to their feet and lined up in front of the tub. They couldn’t have looked more ridiculous, all lined up like they were about to get inspected. It didn’t help that they all looked super guilty and awkward. All except Victory who stood with his hands on his hips, tapping his foot. I snatched him off Horc’s noggin and shoved him in my pocket.
“Quiet,” I said and opened the door, totally expecting to see the nasty Rickard standing there, but it was the Home Depot Fairies.
“We fixed the kitchen,” said D.
“All of it.”
“Of course.” They walked past me without being invited in, surveyed the damage, and set to work gathering up the remains of the furniture.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Fixing it,” said J.
“There’s not much to work with.”
D pointed at two of the other Home Depot fairies. They picked up a small toolbox and marched back out.
“Where are they going?” asked Gerald, perking up.
“To get wood,” said D.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “From where?”
No answer. Great. There was a lot of wood in the cathedral, but I wasn’t exactly keen to have them hacking apart the statuary.
“I better go see where they’re going,” I said.
“Not like that you won’t,” said Delphine, dragging me off into a corner. She found a rumpled but nearly clean uniform and had me out of my sooty one so fast I could barely protest. Miss Penrose brushed the black out of my hair and wiped off my face.
I struggled to get away, but they weren’t having it. “They’re getting away.”
“You’ll catch up.” Miss Penrose wiped off my hands and tried to clean my cuticles, but that soot was in deep.
Delphine stepped back. “I suppose you’ll do.”
It was a good thing I didn’t have a mirror. If she thought I would barely do, her wings would’ve fallen off if she’d seen herself. To say she needed a good shampooing was an understatement.
“Fine.” I wiggled out of Miss Penrose’s grasp. “When the water cools off, take Bentha out.”
“Then what?” asked Iris.
Victory came alive. “You will wrap him in blankets to keep him warm and await Matilda’s return.”
They all looked at me.
“Yes,” I said, grabbing my cloak and rushing for the door. “Do that.”
I found the Home Depot fairies, R and S, fifteen minutes later sizing up the leg of one of the aisle chairs. I considered stopping them for a moment, but it wasn’t an antique by any means, so who cared. They could refurnish my room with a couple of good-sized splinters, so I let them break out a hack saw and flew away. I should’ve checked in with the master secretary, but he hadn’t come looking for me and why go looking for trouble. Miss Penrose had delivered my papers right on time and Gerald and Iris had scrubbed all the gross stuff I usually did. I hovered above R and S, watching Percy and Penelope hassling tourists with tremendous joy and realized that for once I had nothing to do. Nothing at all. I, Matilda Whipplethorn had a moment to be nothing. Not a servant or a sister and it was awesome.
I flew down the nave and went right up to the pipes of the old organ on the stone arch above the main entrance. There was a fanciful grouping of pipes that jutted out over the the nave. They reminded me of outstretched wings. I landed on their wooden support and sat with legs over the edge. All of St. Stephen's at my feet. The thought made me smile. That and Rickard never flew up so high, so he wouldn’t be bothering me.
I leaned on the cold metal pipe and let it chill me. It felt good after the steamy heat of my room. Below me, the cathedral buzzed with activity. There would be an evening mass. Candles were being lit. Parishioners were being led to their seats and tourists blocked out. They could watch from a distance and many would. The ceremony would be beautiful with the sun down and the golden glow of St. Stephen's at its best. I could stay and watch. For once, no one needed me.
I sat there quietly, watching Percy try to steal an old lady’s jeweled comb. He was working pretty hard, but he wasn’t serious about it. If he really wanted it, he could easily burn it off her greying head. Instead, he was hovering and working at the clasp with his talons. I smiled until I felt a strong wind brush against my cheek and blow my hair into my mouth. Iris. She would follow me, kicking up all sorts of wind with her big Whipplethorn wings. I didn’t bother to look up. No one else, except me, in the cathedral had wings of her caliber.
Then I caught a whiff of something I wasn’t expecting. It wasn’t the scent of a Whipplethorn. It wasn’t flowers and happiness but evergreen, fresh and hopeful. I’d smelled that before.
I turned and watched Lysander Mott land on the wood next to me. His blood red wings appeared almost black in the faint light. Even in the shadows, I could see he was smiling with rosy cheeks and tousled hair escaping from its ribbon. I had the feeling that Lysander was almost always smiling.
“How did you know I was coming?” he asked.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
He frowned, but not in an angry way. “Aren’t you deaf?”
I jerked backward and bonked my head on the pipe behind me.
Lysander held up his hands. “Sorry. Sorry. I thought everyone knew this about you.”
“No, they don’t,” I said, breathless from his bluntness.
He sat down uninvited and I didn’t know how I felt about it. Was I angry? Scared? Embarrassed? I really didn’t know. My deafness didn’t bother me so much anymore. It was just the way life was. My deafness was something that distinguished me from others. I wasn’t sure if the horen knew that about me and it was best kept quiet.
“Is it a secret?”
Not the biggest.
“Not exactly, but I wouldn’t want everyone to know,” I said. “People would treat me different, if they did.”
“I understand about being treated differently. I won’t tell anyone.”
I wanted to ask how he knew about being treated different, but he looked out into the cathedral, a fresh smile on his face.
“How did you know?” I asked.
“When I was playing for the children, your reaction was different than theirs.”
That puzzled me. How was I different? I’d missed something. “How?”
“You were looking for their reactions to my music, not having any of your own. Then I saw you talking to Nanny and I was sure. You watched her face intensely when she spoke to you, mostly her lips. But she doesn’t know, does she?”
“No. Most don’t notice.”
“You’re very good at covering it up.”
“I guess so. I never thought about it. I just do it,” I said as Lysander slipped off his cloak and settled in for what looked like a long time. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you.”
I flushed. It came on so quietly, it surprised me, and I flushed more. “Why?”
“You’re interesting.”
I was interesting, but not for any reason he could possibly know about. “I don’t know about that.”
“I do. You showed me a different way to enjoy music. I didn’t think that was possible. Music is my life.”
Who knew deafness could be interesting, instead of only annoying.
“I guess that’s good.”
He beamed at me. “That’s not only interesting. It’s amazing. Enjoyment from others enjoyment. I’ve only thought about my music from the perspective of the listener. Now there’s more components. The listener affecting the other listeners. It’s a symphony in the audience.”
I grinned back. “Well, my deafness is pretty darn awesome t
hen.”
“To me it’s beautiful.” He leaned over and his evergreen scent enveloped me. “I didn’t bring any cider.”
I gathered my feet under me, suppressing the grin that so wanted to be all over my face. “That’s it then. No cider. What were you thinking?”
Lysander jumped up beside me. “I was thinking of something better than cider.”
I snorted. “Like what?”
“Music, of course. It’s opening night for Idomeneo by Mozart. Let’s go.”
I laughed. “That was quick.”
“What was?”
I tapped my ear. “Deaf. You’ve already forgotten.”
“I haven’t forgotten. The opera isn’t just about the music. Opera is special. It’s the opera house, the players, the smell and now thanks to you it’s the audience interacting within itself. I want to see them as a whole, not the way I saw them before as individuals, but the way you see them.”
Lysander smiled at me with an intensity that I recognized in myself. He felt about music the way I felt about fire.
I stood up. “This better be as good as you say.”
“It’ll be better.” He spread his wings.
I looked out into the cathedral. I couldn’t just run off. Iris would freak. “Percy! Percy!” I yelled.
Lysander touched my shoulder. “Who are you talking to?”
Before I could answer, Percy darted up from below the pipes and hovered, his great wings casting us into darkness.
“I can’t see anything,” I said, my palms itched to erupt and light up the night.
Flames burst out of Percy’s nostrils and Lysander and I blinked hard at their intense glare.
“A little less, please.”
Percy lowered the flames and eyed us. It wasn’t friendly. He was totally ready to fry Lysander, if I said so, and Lysander knew it. He’d backed up against the pipes and was looking for a convenient escape. There wasn’t one. Percy was huge.
“It’s okay. I just want you to tell Iris that I’m going out for a while,” I said.
Percy didn’t buy it. Moroccan spice dragons were territorial and I’d come to understand that I was part of their territory and I had no say in the matter. Percy’s long tail whipped out and coiled around my waist, yanking me into the air. He hissed at Lysander and moved in so close that his giant eyeball was nearly touching Lysander’s head.
I punched and struggled against the tail, but it was no use. He had more muscle in his tail tip than I had in my whole body, times two.
Percy had moved me away to what he deemed safety behind him and I could barely see Lysander at all. I got a glimpse of a waving arm, but that was it.
“Percy, back off. He’s a friend. We’re going to the opera!” I yelled.
Percy’s head whipped around and he gave me the stink eye, like I was lying or something.
“I can go to the opera, if I want. It’s not a crime. What’s wrong with you?”
He blew a stream of flame at Lysander, who was intact but petrified, pressed up against the pipes.
“He’s fine.” I punched the tail.
Percy grumbled and showed his snaggly teeth to Lysander, who closed his eyes and waited to be eaten as a dragon snack.
“Percy! Be nice.”
He snorted and placed me gently next to Lysander. I patted his shoulder. “It’s okay. He’s just protective and I don’t go anywhere with strangers ever.”
Percy was making a show of his teeth and fire-breathing. It was more warning than a threat, but Lysander didn’t see it that way. “He wants to eat me.”
“Not really,” I said. “He wants you to know that he can eat you.”
“There’s a difference?”
“Well, he could eat you at any time, but he hasn’t.”
“You say that like it’s a good thing.”
I laughed. “You’re still alive, aren’t you?”
Lysander looked at me like I’d sprouted scales.
“He probably wouldn’t eat you,” I said.
Percy continued to make a great fuss, shooting fire out of his nostrils and raking his claws against the pipes.
“Alright. Alright. We get it. I belong to you.”
Lysander’s wings relaxed. “You belong to a dragon?”
“Not literally,” I said. “Moroccan spices are testy and territorial.”
“I’ll say they are.”
Percy pressed his snout into my chest, knocking me back into the pipes. He made a great rumbling in his throat. I could feel the sound waves in my bones.
“So you’ve got a pet dragon,” said Lysander.
“It’s more like family than a pet thing.” I stroked Percy’s silky scaled nose.
“A dragon and a spriggan. That’s unusual.”
But wait there’s more.
Lysander reached out and tentatively touched Percy’s snout. “Anything else I should know.”
Plenty, but let’s go with no.
“No. Just an ordinary maid, doing ordinary stuff,” I said.
Lysander gave me a yeah, right look, but asked, “Can you go?”
“Absolutely.” I pushed Percy away. “We’re going. Don’t worry.”
Percy abruptly spun around and let out a bellow so loud our view of the cathedral was distorted for a split second. Penelope flew up from the main altar so fast that she almost blew us off the shelf.
“There’s more?” asked Lysander. “How many dragons do you have?”
“Just two and they’re really nothing like the dragons at the palace.”
Percy and Penelope both snorted in derision. To be compared to other dragons was an insult. They were unique and showed it in an odd little conversation they had between themselves. They didn’t exactly talk, but they did communicate. They hovered and made bobbing head movements until Penelope zipped over and snorted on Lysander with her hot dragon breath.
“Not again!” he said.
I pushed her away. “Enough. Go tell Iris.”
Penelope glanced at Percy and then glided away down the nave toward Friedrich’s tomb.
“One down. One to go,” said Lysander.
Percy flew backwards and hovered, clearly waiting.
“Okay,” I said slowly.
Lysander and I took off and flew around Percy. He neatly countered our movements. By the time we’d gotten out the door, I’d figured it out. I was finally having a date and a dragon was going on it.
Chapter Sixteen
THE VIENNA STATE Opera was in a square stone building that had lots of arches. Lysander said it was Neo-Renaissance, whatever that meant. He failed to mention that we were going to a human opera, which meant I’d probably be able to hear some of it. I wasn’t sure if I should tell him since he was so excited about my reactions to audience reactions.
There weren’t many humans outside and no dragons, except Percy, who kept a polite distance, but was never more than one of his wing lengths away. We flew up over dozens of stairs with a fancy green carpet to the humans’ main door. Above it was the fairy entrance, just as ornate as what the humans had with a carved stone arch and glass doors. There was a bored looking fairy outside the entrance. He wore a green uniform that matched the carpet. He resembled a wzlot like Alesky from the antique mall, but the wzlot were Polish warrior fairies and this one looked like his biggest battle was getting out of bed.
It took a second for the uniformed fairy to see us and when he did his eyes flew open wide and he went all stiff in his uniform. “Kapellmeister Mott, we weren’t expecting you.”
“Hello, Ferdzik,” said Lysander in German. “No reason you should. It was a last minute idea to come tonight.”
Ferdzik looked me up and down and wasn’t happy. “You have a guest.” He tried and failed to keep the snottiness out of his face.
I looked down and realized I was in my uniform and it wasn’t even freshly pressed. Fantastic.
“Yes,” said Lysander, smiling warmly as if he didn’t notice anything. That was impossible. There was a l
ot of snot in that face. “We would like to take my usual seats.”
“They are available, but…”
“But?” asked Lysander.
“The empress and emperor are seated in the imperial box.”
“Ah, yes. A chance to see and be seen. Very good. I hope the empress is well tonight.”
“Her Imperial Majesty is very well.” Ferdzik looked at me when he said it and clearly he didn’t think I was fit to be seen. I can’t say I disagreed, but we were there.
“Excellent. We’ll be on our way then. Have they started the first act yet?” asked Lysander.
“Yes, Kapellmeister, but wouldn’t you prefer another seating, perhaps lower and a little farther back.
Lysander’s cheerful face hardened. “No, I would not. I am kapellmeister now. I will be seen, not hidden.”
Ferdzik started at his harsh words. “Sir, I didn’t mean—”
“I’m sure you didn’t mean anything. No one ever does.” Lysander reached past him and grabbed the door handle.
The doors were large, but not dragon large. I spun around to look for Percy, ready to say, “Too bad. You’ll just have to stay out here. Darn the luck.” But Percy was gone.
“Yes!” I exclaimed.
Lysander grinned. “I guess we’re on our own. No dragonsitter.”
“We don’t allow dragons,” said Ferdzik.
“You’d allow this one.”
Lysander ushered me inside, leaving Ferdzik bright red with embarrassment.
Once inside, I sucked in a breath at the beauty. It was quite unexpected. The outside of the opera was fine and ornate, but the inside was gorgeous with arches everywhere and wide carpeted stairs up to more arches. There were marble statues and balconies on all the levels and a few humans gazing at the splendor like me.
Then Percy darted in front of the view, beating his wings so hard, my cloak flew off my shoulders. “How did you get in here?”
Percy tossed his head back and forth with little puffs of smoke squirting from his snout, obnoxious dragon style. In dragon, he was probably saying, “You’re so stupid.”
Lysander shrugged. “You can’t have everything.”
Wicked Chill (Away From Whipplethorn Book Four) Page 16
