A Dragon's Guide to the Care and Feeding of Humans

by Laurence Yep

  Winnie peeked through the doorway. “What’s wrong?”

  “I thought I heard something.” I tested the air, but I could smell only myself and Winnie—and the dust.

  “Do you think it was one of the sketchlings?” Winnie asked.

  Perhaps the long shadow had just been a trick of the light. “Yes, and it must be so small that I can’t find its scent,” I said. I trusted my snout more than I did my eyes, so I dismissed my suspicions—and made things even worse.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  A hunt is good exercise for both you and your pet.

  As soon as Winnie left, I used my tablet to go to the special website that only a few magicals knew and began reading the Thaumaturgica Chaldea, a Latin translation of spells from the famous wizards of ancient Babylonia. The scanned parchment was worn thin, with the spidery characters showing through from the other side. But with my sharp dragon eyes, I quickly found the chapter “Capturing and Containing,” then the section “Creatures Large and Small,” and finally the subheading “Willing and Recalcitrant.”

  The enchantment was quick, efficient, and workmanlike—as you would expect for wizards capturing monsters and demons. Make a spell too complicated and you’ll be eaten or blasted before you can complete it. This one should be more than sufficient for the sketchlings—even so, I sincerely hoped that we wouldn’t find many escapees too large and too recalcitrant.

  I practiced sketching the word šuti, which meant “catch” or “seize” in Sumerian. My claws found it easy to scratch the cuneiform syllables in the air. Then I drew an eight-pointed star around it with my left paw and a triangular arrowhead with my right. I finished by dragging the arrowhead through the star. At the same time, I rehearsed the brief chant in a soft mutter that the Thaumaturgica had translated into Latin—Te Superi dabunt mihi for one creature and Vos Superi dabunt mihi for two or more.

  I had it down by the time Winnie arrived with a glowing snail, which had crept under her bed, and two small neon lizards all tangled in a butterfly net. “I found the pair trying to eat the watercolors in my paint box.”

  “How colorful,” I said. When I examined them, I could see why the lizards hadn’t left.… Winnie had spent more time capturing their brilliant shades of orange and pink than drawing their feet. They were small stumps, not suited for climbing, scurrying, or even walking very far.

  I began the ancient enchantment. “Please hold the book for me. I need my paws free to sign the spell.”

  Winnie held the net in one hand while her other began to open the sketchbook to a blank page.

  Up until now the sketchlings had been docile, but suddenly they frantically began to climb out of the net. Of course, the snail couldn’t go very fast or far, but through the net’s mesh, I could see its footpad rippling and its eyestalks straining as it tried to creep up the net.

  The lizards, though, might have scooted away, but before they could, Winnie dropped the sketchbook and grabbed the mesh near the net’s opening and squeezed it shut.

  They hunched, their bodies pulsing with waves of color, tails lifted like flagpoles, as they hissed and snapped at us.

  “The ones at Clipper’s were so quiet,” Winnie said. “What’s gotten into these?”

  “They seem scared of returning to the sketchbook,” I said.

  Winnie felt sorry for them. “Maybe they just want to be free. Would it be all right if I kept them in an aquarium tank?”

  I chopped my paw through the air. “We can’t take the risk. It would still violate the Agreement if your mother or some visitor saw them in your room.”

  “Okay,” she said sadly. Holding the net shut, she got the sketchbook in her other hand and clumsily spread it open.

  Making the signs with my paws, I murmured the magical words. The next instant, the book became a magnet, drawing the snail and lizards with a zipping noise through the air and onto the pages, where they became two-dimensional drawings once again.

  Winnie slapped the book shut. “Well, that’s three down—now for the rest.” She picked up a sturdy lace shoulder bag from the back of a chair. “Can I use this to carry my book?”

  “Be my guest.” I reviewed her list in my memory. “A sapphire bat is nocturnal, so it probably couldn’t have gotten very far before sunrise.” I tapped a claw against my snout. “If I were it, I’d want someplace dark and quiet. And I didn’t smell it in the basement.”

  “Then how about the garage?” suggested Winnie.

  “Is your mother at home?” I asked.

  “Don’t worry,” Winnie said. “Mom left to run some easy errands, and she said she’d be gone the whole day.”

  “I’d still better change first,” I said. “We might have to leave the house and grounds.”

  “Why don’t you just use those spells so people don’t see you?” Winnie asked.

  I shook my head. “That’s fine when I’m in the air, but on the ground, you don’t need to see me to know I’m there. I might be invisible, but people could see the grass flatten as I walk by.”

  The world shimmered in a golden haze as I transformed. But today, my hair was red and artfully curled over my forehead.

  Winnie circled me. “I like the hair, and you look like you just stepped out of a fashion magazine.”

  I smoothed my lime-green sweater and picked a bit of lint from my navy skirt. “I take pride in my disguises, so I keep up on the latest human fripperies.” I had digital subscriptions to all the fashion magazines, and many of the top houses put the highlights of their new season’s clothes online.

  We left through my front door, slipping around the furniture in the storage room that hid my apartment. The rest of the basement was just as cluttered, except for the area around the furnace.

  It was quiet on the first floor. The staff had been given time off because Dylis, the lawyer who managed the trust, had not been sure when Liza and Winnie would arrive.

  I smiled seeing all of the portraits and landscapes decorating the hallway walls. Winthrop had called them his windows on the world, and he’d bought them during our later travels. He had wanted to see and do so much, but as with all my pets, his human body had been no match for his great energy and will. Despite all their claims otherwise, humans are such fragile creatures.

  This was no time for sentimentality, though. Magic, uncontrolled and unpredictable, was loose and possibly wreaking havoc around us. Recapturing the runaway sketchlings should be my only concern right now, and I had just started to look around for them when a woman in her late thirties limped in from the kitchen. She was wearing jeans and a white pullover sweater, and her hair was as frizzy as Winnie’s.

  The woman gave a startled cry when she saw us. “Oh!”

  But then she shocked us when she went on to say, “Oh, it’s you, Miss Drake. I was hoping to meet you sometime.”

  Winnie and I glanced at each other, and she was the first to recover.

  “Oh, I know all about our guest, Win,” she said, extending her hand to me. “I’m Liza, and my aunt told me about you, Miss Drake.”

  Oh, Fluffy, what secrets did you reveal?

  Her grip was firm and strong, her palm callused from hard work, her cheeks brown and rough from too much wind, rain, and sun. Yes, this outdoorsy girl would have bewildered her father, Jarvis, who preferred sitting in a chair as much as possible.

  “Hello,” I said pleasantly. “I’ve been meaning to see how you were settling in, but Winnie told me you had other plans today.”

  “I forgot my cell phone. But what nice luck to have a chance to meet you now. I was so sorry we weren’t able to be here in time for Aunt Amelia’s funeral and greet all her friends.” She picked up her phone and clicked through her pictures. “Here is a photo that Aunt Amelia scanned and sent me not long ago.”

  I saw our smiling faces and smiled back, admiring again her soft, wavy hair. Its lushness had prompted my name of endearment for her. I could read Fluffy’s tidy penmanship on the bottom:

  Miss Drake and me
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  “I sensed you were a good friend,” Liza said with a smile.

  “Yes, we were,” I said. “And I promised her I would watch over the two of you.”

  “Wonderful,” she said. “Aunt Amelia’s lawyer has been such a big help already. She’s arranged for Winnie to attend the Spriggs Academy, where Aunt Amelia studied.”

  “I’m glad to hear the Academy had the good sense to accept Winnie,” I said truthfully. “She’ll get a wonderful education there.”

  Liza nodded. “Anyway, let’s have lunch soon. I’d love to get to know you better.”

  “Yes, let’s,” I said, intending to do just the opposite.

  Liza seemed to think I was a fellow natural, so since Fluffy had been cautious about revealing my true identity to her, so would I. Instead, I’d shrink to fly-size and observe Liza until I could decide if she shared the same virtues as her daughter.

  As Liza limped through the front door, I thought, In the meantime, my dear lady, we have to keep you too occupied to think about me. Perhaps a job … maybe something horsey. I would deal with that problem after we snared the sketchlings.

  Winnie would have gone to the garage immediately, but I held up a hand until I heard a car back out of the driveway into the street.

  “I was wondering,” Winnie said, “who took that picture of you and Great-Aunt Amelia?”

  “My friend Reynard,” I said. “He was very fond of Fl—your great-aunt. Leave it to him to take a picture, not be in one. He’s not someone who likes to be caught in anything, even a photo.”

  “When will I meet him?” she asked.

  “Only when and if he wants you to,” I told her, and walked ahead into the garage.

  I put a finger on my lips, and we let our eyes adjust to the gloom before we began to look around. A few minutes later, Winnie tapped my arm and pointed. I glimpsed the brilliant blue among the row of rakes and brooms.

  We moved quietly until we were next to it. I motioned to myself and then pantomimed that I would expose the bat. I wasn’t sure Winnie would understand, so I was grateful when she nodded and drew the sketchbook from the lace bag.

  I gently lifted a rake away to reveal the delicate blue bat hanging upside down from a shelf and sound asleep. With its wings folded around it, it looked like a sapphire carving.

  Winnie opened the book, but the moment the bat heard the rustling pages, its eyes snapped open. Its nostrils flared. Its jaws stretched, revealing needle-sharp teeth. Like any cornered animal, the bat was ready to fight. It launched itself from the wall straight at Winnie.

  Grabbing her, I snatched her clear from danger and ducked my own head. The bat flapped past us and on across the garage to throw itself against the single small window on the wall. Its wings beat a frantic tapping tattoo against the glass.

  One spell from me, one flick of the book from Winnie, and it was caught before it could hurt itself.

  Puzzled, I studied the picture of the terrified creature. “Sapphire bats are usually so calm.”

  “It must really hate the sketchbook too,” Winnie said guiltily.

  As we went back into the house, Winnie headed for a hall closet. “Let’s check in here.” She rooted around among the coats hanging on the pole and then put a finger to her lips and pointed at a rain boot.

  I peeked at the sleepy carousel-spinning mouse curled up inside. Like the bat, it woke the moment it heard the sketchbook opening. It leapt from the boot and became a blur as it raced from the closet and down the hallway carpet. Winnie flung herself after it, catching it more by luck than skill.

  “You’ve got a talent for thinking like a sketchling,” I said.

  Though she was pleased, she gave a shrug. “I drew them after all.”

  I must say that I was delighted at how quickly we were catching the sketchlings because of her. So after checking the rooms in the house, I left the decision to Winnie. “Where should we look next?”

  “You’re asking me?” she said in surprise. But as she thought, her eyes fastened on a window. The greenness of the lawn seemed to pull at her. “Let’s try the garden.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  You may know best—but sometimes your pet may be right.

  Sure enough, we found a slender Lady Jane salamander sunning itself in the birdbath. It was still as a statue, but as soon as Winnie opened the book, it skittered from the bowl and down the pedestal.

  We were racing over the gravel after it when it suddenly stopped, sides moving in and out slowly. As we neared it, though, I suddenly felt sleepy. Winnie began yawning continuously.

  Even though I could see a perfectly normal path in front of me, I had a strong feeling that I was going to fall into a dark pit where something was waiting to devour me. Next to me, Winnie had started to tremble as if she, too, was experiencing something frightful.

  I forced my groggy mind to remember the list, then glanced at the garden lamp, where three dream-casting moths had woken from their daytime slumber and were working their magic by waving their wings rhythmically. “Book,” I said.

  Winnie was stiff with fear, but showing her true mettle, she managed to get the sketchbook open.

  My hands and mouth moved sluggishly, as if I was in a living nightmare, but we put the salamander back into the sketchbook. And the sleepiness and fear vanished the instant the moths were returned to their pages.

  Winnie gave her head a little shake. “It was almost like the salamander was leading us into an ambush.”

  “Except it got caught itself.” I gazed at the pages. “I’ve never heard of dream casters being so strong before. For their magic to have such force, they must have tapped into their own personal fears.”

  Winnie closed the book and put it away. “But why would they think we were going to eat them?”

  “Or perhaps it was something else in the book,” I said.

  “Maybe the pemburu?” Winnie asked. “Those claws would scare me if I was their size.”

  “I suppose it will still be a threat once we capture it and will remain that until we can reseal the book,” I said.

  “We could put lots of blank pages between the pemburu and the other sketchlings,” Winnie suggested.

  “Hmm, you mean isolate it? Yes, that might work.” I tapped a finger against my chin. “But the sketchlings won’t know our plan to keep them safe. They associate the book with the pemburu now, even though it’s gone, and they’ll do everything to avoid it.” I shrugged. “But it can’t be helped. So …?” I waved a palm at her for her to decide where to search.

  Knowing that I trusted her, Winnie grinned as she began to think. “Hmm.” At that moment, her stomach growled, and I recalled that we hadn’t had breakfast yet. She pressed a hand against her belly. “If I’m hungry, the sketchlings must be too. But what would they eat?”

  I reviewed her list in my mind. “There are a bunch of vegetarians.” So we scoured the garden. Fortunately the roses were in full bloom, and this year not even the foggy summer had prevented a luscious display of blossoms.

  “Even magical creatures are drawn to the showy,” I said as we hunted about the dazzling red and pink and yellow and white flowers.

  We found three flying insects there, fairy sirens. We were lucky that the roses had captivated them before they could scatter throughout the city.

  With one bold sweep, Winnie snagged them in her net. “I don’t think this one would have gone far.” She pointed at a spoonlike bug with lopsided wings. “I need to pay more attention to legs and wings, I can see that.”

  “A good lesson,” I told her, “but one I’m grateful you are learning now and not yesterday.”

  I knew nothing about the insects other than their name, but they were so small I didn’t think they would give us any trouble.

  But they didn’t wait for Winnie to open the sketchbook. As soon as they saw the cover, I felt their terror. They began to make a rasping noise like a saw cutting an iron nail, and small dots rose from the garden into the air, becoming ribbons that dart
ed toward us. As they drew near, I saw they were gnats, ladybugs, bees, wasps, and small biting flies the size of rice grains. I hadn’t realized the garden was teeming with so much life, and summoned by the fairy sirens, it had now become an angry insect armada bearing down on us.

  I had no idea that such small things could be so dangerous. There was no way to shield Winnie with my body because there were several swarms coming at us from different directions. I only had time to ask, “Are you allergic to bees or wasps?”

  And then they were on us.

  “I’ll be okay. Do the spell,” Winnie said. “Ow!” She flinched as a bee stung her, but she resolutely kept hold of the net while her other hand flipped open the book.

  The buzzing cloud of bugs that surrounded me became so thick that I couldn’t see my own hands—let alone Winnie—as I made the passes. And every time I opened my mouth, some creature flew into it. I was finding it hard to breathe, yet I managed to say the spell. I could only hope Winnie had kept the sketchbook open.

  Suddenly the insect swarm scattered as quickly as it had formed, and I saw my dear pet standing like a brave soldier at her post. Despite our ordeal, she’d held the sketchbook with its pages spread out, and there were the fairy sirens.

  Besides being clever and courageous, she was a tough little thing. It’s funny how a life of trouble can make some creatures scared of their own shadow and others—like Winnie—stronger and better. It felt good to know I could depend on her when things got difficult.

  I spit out a ladybug, which wandered soggily off. “I can see some of these creatures may be a bit challenging. Are you all right?”

  “Just a bee sting. I’ll put some lotion on it later.” Despite her wound, she was already turning in a slow circle, searching for the next sketchling. “There’s one!”

  She pointed to a lemon tree. Not many lemons this year, but there was a lavender lemur searching high up in the branches. Its already-large eyes grew even bigger when it saw us, and the next moment, the leaves hid it like a green curtain.