Live and Let Fly

by Karina Fabian

  "Vern! You're going to hyperventilate! Will you get control of yourself and listen to me?

  I didn't pick your form. This is the form you have because if God had meant you to be human, this is the form you'd have. You've said yourself, you're a gorgeous dragon."

  I turned my head and looked at my profile. Nice cheekbones and a firm jaw. Not quite rugged. I tried out a minor grin. My expression turned feral but not intimidating. I wasn't scaring anyone with that look. In fact, I'd observed enough humans to know exactly how women would react. I moaned. "I don't want to be gorgeous."

  Grace sighed in exasperation. "Fine! When you get out, we'll fill you with pastries and French fries, and you can get fat and develop acne."

  "Will that work?"

  "No, which is my point! Your outer form is human, but you are dragon."

  "I don’t have a tail!" I reached behind me to make sure. Great. Bet that was perfect, too.

  Kitty had told me as much once. "Oh, no! Kitty can't see me this way."

  "We'll worry about that later. Can you hear me?”

  "Of course I can hear you!" What stupid question was that at a time like this?

  "Well, a human couldn't have. Your hearing is dragon. Can you read this?" She slid a paper under the crack in the door.

  " No human could read this, so calm down, you silly dragon," I read. "Cute. It wasn't my limited senses that got us all into trouble, you know."

  "I know that. One of my wimples is hanging on the door. Put it to your face and take a deep breath."

  I did so. It smelled like Grace. "Okay. So?"

  She sang, something sonorous and seductive.

  My head clouded, and my body reacted in ways dragons can't react. I took a step toward the door. I had only one thought.

  " Are you out of your mind, woman?"

  The song dissolved into giggles. "Well, that settles it. Human body. Dragon mind.

  Otherwise you'd have ripped the door off its hinges to get to me."

  I could hear the relief in her voice.

  My knees felt wobbly, and I sat down hard on the toilet lid. The cold porcelain felt kind of good. "And if I had?"

  "You'd have been bounced into the shower, and from across the room, I'd have suggested a very cold setting." A snicker escaped her throat. "I'm sorry. It's not funny. I was worried, too."

  I was thinking of something else. I walked to the door and set my hand on it. "You have a shield up? Still?"

  "Aye."

  "I can't sense it. I should be able to sense it."

  "All right. You are in human form; you can't expect to have everything, can you? Why don't you get dressed and come out? We'll have something to eat, and then we'll work out where your dragoness ends and your humanness begins."

  I muttered my agreement and pulled the clothes off the hanger. My breathing had calmed, but not my stomach. I hoped food would help, or at least that I wouldn't throw it back up. I remembered that experience from the last time I was human, too, and didn't care to repeat it.

  The clothes fit perfectly. "You were expecting this, weren't you?" I asked—okay, I snarled—as I buckled the belt. I decided not to bother with the shoes. Los Lagos was having another heat wave, and our air conditioner wasn’t up to the task. Plus human blood ran hotter than dragon's. Ironic, I know. The cool cement felt good on my bare feet.

  I splashed cold water on my face and tried to put on a calm, confident look. I can do this.

  I can do this, I told the face in the mirror. It didn't believe me. I switched to God, help me do this, until I felt a quieting in my soul.

  "Ready," I called to warn Grace before I opened the door and stepped out.

  "Sweet Mother of Mercy!" Grace's eyes widened, and she backed away from me, clutching her cross like a lifeline. Jaw half-dropped, she stared at me, gasping, eyes flickering over my body as if she'd discovered some beautiful but dangerous snake in her garden.

  I backed up, too, my hands up in front of me to— I had no idea why my hands were up.

  I'd seen humans do that before, usually accompanied with soothing sounds or words like, "easy now." I thought I'd try that, but what came out was, "This is a bad idea."

  She ripped her gaze off me and stared at her feet. Her eyes closed, and she murmured a prayer. I stood silent, waiting, hating what this form was doing to her. How could she know the curse wasn't activated in her somehow?

  She seemed to read my thoughts. She whispered an "Amen;" then looked at me and smiled. "I'm fine, Vern. I wasn’t as ready as I'd thought, is all."

  "Can't we do something? Give me a hunchback, disfigure my face, tattoos, something?"

  She laughed, but there was a hint of sadness. "Vern. It's a pretty package, but that's not why I love you. It doesn't matter what you look like—any reasonably human male form will tempt me. That is my problem. I will deal with it."

  I crossed my arms. My weight shifted to one leg, and I cocked my head to the side.

  "Yeah? How?"

  She mimicked my pose, and her voice again became stern, almost scolding. "Mary, Mother of God, loved her dear Joseph, and they were married for many years before he died. If she can remain ever virgin, so can I. And there are many married saints who had chaste relationships. They'll help me."

  It was my turn to study my feet. "You're right."

  "That pretty package is going to open up some opportunities." She stepped toward me, examining me with a critical eye. "In fact, I think it's somewhat...gentled...from your curse form.

  Not quite as glamorous, or edgy; if you stop scowling and relax."

  "Sorry."

  She gave a soft chuckle. "Better. It's a trustworthy face, Vern. The kind people will talk to. But you'll have to be careful around women."

  I sighed. "Yeah. Okay."

  "And...don't touch me. Not while you're in this form."

  "Got it," I grumbled.

  She started toward the kitchen. "Come on, let's eat. Oh, catch!"

  She lobbed a beanie baby over her shoulder at me. Reflexively, I reached out with my tail.

  The stuffed pink ostrich hung in midair.

  "My tail!" I cheered.

  Grace turned, saw the toy floating between us, and ran her hand around it: over, under, and in circles. "Can you feel it?"

  "No, but it's there! Look!" I gave it a flick, and the toy did a flip and stopped where I caught it.

  "Well, I didn’t expect that. Handy."

  "Maybe I can be a magician for my cover. Cover! I'm going to need some fake ID." Then my stomach growled, reminding me I hadn't eaten since dinner last night.

  We spent an interesting afternoon discovering the new me. The combination of human and dragon taste buds was weird. I still hated chocolate and now despised American beer. Raw steak and ethanol were still good, though the fuel had a funny aftertaste and made me queasy. I liked citrus fruits; that was new. Grace also brought out a few poisons as a test, not only to see if I could identify them, but if my blood had enough dragon elements to protect me.

  The second time I vomited in the sink we decided to assume the answer was "no" to poison protection. I also removed Ipecac off my list of beverages.

  After some magical healing and a nap, we discovered I couldn't fly, but I could levitate. I had to be on all fours, however, or I lost my balance and fell crashing onto my head or my behind. Fortunately, we practiced on my nest. I had strength below my dragon level although above the average human. I had good small motor skills, but my handwriting was atrocious, and my hand ached after a few minutes with the pencil. That annoyed me; I had beautiful, calligraphic penmanship as a dragon. Now, even a doctor wouldn't approve of my signature.

  "Don't hold the pencil so tight." Grace coached.

  "This is stupid!" I snarled. "I know how to write."

  "Aye, with a pinkie claw. Now you're training muscles you've never had in ways you've never done before. Try again."

  We discovered my skin, though, was very human when I ripped a sheet of paper off the pad and cr
umbled it a little too enthusiastically, giving myself a nasty paper cut. I further discovered how salty human sweat was when I ran my injured hand over my face. Human swear words roll pretty easily off the human tongue at times like that, too.

  At that point, Grace called an end to our "training" for the time being and ordered me to the showers while she got dinner ready. "And be sure to take a clean change of clothes in with you," she warned.

  I'd forgotten how much I enjoyed showers. My dragon body does not fit into a shower stall, and waterfalls can't compare to the gentle steady spray of water under pressure. The closest I can get is hanging out under a fountain, and usually some groundskeeper or policeman runs me off. Plus, human skin is much more sensitive than dragon scales.

  I washed my hair, twice, because I liked how the suds felt; then stood under the water until it ran from warm to tepid to cool. Beyond the hiss and patter of the shower, I heard a car pull into our lot. I couldn’t tell what make; my hearing wasn't quite at dragon levels, unfortunately. Still, Grace had invited Rak over to see if her idea worked. Might as well show him the results.

  I put on a pair of sweats and a clean T-shirt, this one a little tighter than the one I'd had earlier. The flappy fabric annoyed me when I thought about it. I brushed my hair, wondering about that. I could understand the color, but how did it end up in a stylish cut? I found a new toothbrush in the drawer and ran it over my teeth—another thing dragons never have to do.

  Being human is a bother.

  Grace, Calloway, and Rak were in the kitchen sharing tea and small talk. Rak stopped mid-sentence when I walked in. Both men took in my casual attire, wet hair, and bare feet.

  Calloway's eyebrows rose.

  Rak said, "Sister, I didn't realize you had...company."

  "It's me," I snarled.

  I watched Rak's expression move from confusion to surprise, make a brief side trip to horror, then arrive at glee. "Holy shit!" he shouted.

  "Watch your language," I growled, but he just stood up and looked me over, repeating those same words more softly. He prodded my bicep with a finger. I swatted it away.

  "That is amazing, Sister! He looks totally human." He poked me in the belly.

  This time I brought the edge of my hand down on his wrist. He yelped.

  "Do you mind?"

  "You're ripped!" He turned to Grace, pointing at me with his good hand. "Can you do this for me?"

  "It is an...interesting choice of form," Calloway deadpanned.

  "And I didn't choose it," Grace said. "This is Vern's natural form as a human."

  "That is unfair!" Rak said.

  "Why are you so surprised? I'm a gorgeous dragon."

  "How long will this last?" Calloway asked.

  "That's the beauty of it. The only magic involved is in activating or deactivating the spell itself. After that, it's inertia. He can stay like this for weeks."

  "Weeks?" I gulped.

  "You can change back whenever you want," Grace reassured me.

  "Good!"

  "But not now. You need to get used to being human."

  "What's there to get used to?"

  Grace rolled her eyes and tossed a spoon at me.

  I reached out with my tail, remembered I wasn't supposed to have a tail, and stretched out my hands too late. The spoon bounced against my chest.

  "Ow!"

  Rak hooted with laughter, and even Calloway grinned. "Sister, you are one tough trainer."

  "People can hurt you more easily in this form," she said, "and you're not expecting that."

  I picked up the spoon and used two fingers to bend it. Rak's laughter ended in a gulp.

  "They're not expecting me, either." I gave her a reassuring grin.

  She flushed slightly and turned her head. Oops. Gotta watch the grin.

  "Well," Calloway said into the uncomfortable silence that followed. "Looks like you're in. You're going to need an identity: passport, birth certificate, credit card, the works. Even new security paperwork. Let's head to the office later, and we can get things moving. Tomorrow, we'll be taking all of you to Fort Carson for some immunizations and subcutaneous GPS locators."

  "Wait a minute? We're getting microchipped?"

  "It doesn't hurt much. What's the big deal, Vern?"

  The big deal? For the first decade I lived in the Mundane, I had to convince people I was neither a wild animal nor a pet. No leashes. No rabies shots. No chipping. As soon as I look human, what do they want to do to me?

  "You wouldn't understand."

  I glanced at Grace, but she was staring at her tea, her brows knit in thought. "Grace?"

  "Hmm?" She blinked, and shook herself. "I may have another idea, but I need to do some research. Is everyone ready for dinner?"

  Grace's "training" extended to dinner: soup (I dribbled all over my shirt before I got the hang of it), spaghetti (had to learn to twirl a fork), and steak (did I miss my real teeth!). She made me drink juice out of a wine glass and tea out of our most delicate cup (purchased at a yard sale, so no worries there). Dessert—ice cream cones that melted faster than we could eat them—

  completed the humiliation. I did not remember having this kind of trouble eating when I was cursed into being human; I suppose that should have reassured me.

  "You look like my two-year-old," Calloway commented.

  Grace decided to stay behind to do dishes and research, so I washed up and went with Rak and Calloway to the office, where I posed for photos—I did not say "cheese"—and got blood-typed and fingerprinted.

  "This is so bizarre," Rak said. "What if we did a DNA run on you?"

  I wondered about that. Another reason not to get hurt in this form.

  I got home as a storm started outside. Grace was in the workshop, so I practiced with my body by setting out buckets under all the known leaks then crawled into my nest. Then I crawled back out, re-arranged the mattresses and padding, and lay back down again.

  It took a while before I eventually fell asleep.

  * * * *

  I was lying on the broken sidewalk, blood pouring out of the hole in my chest with each spasm of my heart. Thunder roared in the distance; rain poured loud enough for me to hear, but the sky above me was painfully blue and the ground below me dry except for my own blood.

  Around me, I heard people: screaming, calling for help, a flurry of languages I half understood.

  But not the voice I needed to hear.

  "Grace!"

  A blurred face. A voice telling me to hang on. Hang on to what? Too late for doctors.

  Too far for magic.

  No wings. No tail. Just a human body with a ripped-up heart bleeding on the sidewalk.

  What would the autopsy show?

  I think I moaned. I wanted to.

  "Grace? Where are you?"

  The thunder boomed, loud yet distant. It was getting hard to care. I felt so...beyond the world. Not dragon. Not human. Not anything.

  Do whatever you want to a dragon. You can only inconvenience them. Humans are more frail. Humans die.

  "I don’t want to die human!"

  I fought against the not-ness. I thrashed, wanting to hurt myself, wanting to feel pain that told me I was alive, but all I felt was a gentle, cushioned rebound. Hands I couldn't see held me down; voices told me to relax. Relax? Into the nothingness?

  "Grace! Help me!"

  Then Grace was there, my angel, taking my hand and brushing back my hair with her fingers. It felt so good, so real, I nearly sobbed with relief. "Don't let me die," I begged her.

  She shushed me gently. "You can't die. You're a dragon."

  Had she gone blind? Feeling had returned, and with it, pain. My heart gave a spasmodic clench. I gasped. "Human. Shot." I gestured weakly at the wound.

  She lay my hand on my chest and set hers on top of it. "You're fine," she said. "It's just a dream. You're a dragon. Dragon soul and dragon mind. This body is a shell." She began to sing.

  I couldn't understand what she was saying. I only
knew I felt better. "Don't go."

  She paused to kiss my forehead. "Shh. I'll never leave you." She resumed singing, St.

  Francis' “Canticle of the Dragon,” and the rain hitting our rusty old roof and dripping into the half-full buckets harmonized.

  I fell into the blackness of sleep with my heart beating whole and strong beneath our two hands.

  Chapter Fifteen: Body and Soul

  I woke up the next morning not knowing where or even what I was or why I was clutching at the front of my shirt.

  Unfortunately, I did know what time it was. "Seven-thirty?" I groaned and flopped back onto my mattress. Rak wasn't picking us up until eleven. I rolled over, thinking I could get another hour's sleep.

  That side of the bed smelled like Grace. I puzzled a moment before I remembered my nightmare. No going back to sleep now.

  I sat up, stretched, and ran my hands over my face and hair while I tried to remember what it was humans did when they got up.

  "Good morning."

  I spun around, managing to stand as I did and impressing myself by not losing my balance. Grace stood by the kitchen door, holding an empty bucket with both hands. "Did you get enough sleep?"

  I smiled. "Thanks to you."

  She smiled back. "And how many times have you helped me through my nightmares? It was nice to be able to return the favor."

  Dragons can love. In fact, when we choose to, we love with legendary devotion.

  However, I hadn't realized how strongly humans feel love.

  I could have stood there with Grace smiling at me all morning.

  Of course, no sooner did I think that than her eyes lowered, and her smile turned uncomfortable, and I realized I'd broken some other human convention I never realized existed.

  She bounced the bucket against her knees.

  "Uh, we got a lot of those to empty?"

  "Aye. I just started."

  "I'll get them."

  "All right. You'll, uh, want to change first."

  I glanced at my boxers. "Yes, right." I started to pull off my shirt while I turned toward where I'd laid my clothes from last night.

  "Change in the bathroom!"