Live and Let Fly

by Karina Fabian

  Oh. Oops.

  Rhoda announced her last song of the night. “Undercover Lover, Do You Know Who You Are?”

  We paid our tab and left.

  Chapter Seventeen: The Dragon and the Snowman

  I'd remembered to brush my teeth before bed, so my mouth felt fine in the morning. My legs, however, were another story. Groaning, I sat up and rubbed my sore thighs. Guess I couldn't expect any more friendly massages now that the girls thought I was gay.

  That was a twist on our aliases I hadn't expected. How much had Charlie had to drink last night, anyway?

  Not enough to be hung over. His bed was empty and made, and a note sat on it: Went to breakfast. I'll bring you some if I don’t see you. There was an X, an O, and a smiley face at the bottom.

  Damsels and Knights, I wished this body could breathe fire.

  Sore legs won out over empty stomach. I decided to let the smart aleck serve me while I did some real work. I limped over to the computer, grabbed it and the memory card Grace had passed me—I smiled at the memory—and brought both back to bed with me.

  Bhandar Baru lacked a regular newspaper. They touted it as one of their charms: "Where news is still passed by word of mouth in the colorful oral tradition of simpler times" or some such. Nice for an evil overlord's HQ—no meddling reporters with island-wide audiences to give you bad press. It also meant that if a nice reporter such as, say, Rosie Tapping, wants to interview an important person minions usually jump at their chance for fifteen minutes of fame.

  In this case, the important person was one Tedla Stann, second-shift manager of the Li nuclear power plant. Rosie had a whole series of small articles about Ted: his growing up in the resort town, doing his homework while sitting on an overturned bucket as his parents mopped the tile floors of the Apikewa Shadows, getting an online degree in electrical plant management... I grinned. For years, we'd been writing intelligence reports for the Duke and the Faerie Church.

  After we met Roxanne Lewis, a reporter in Florida, she'd talked us into making some of those reports (which were mostly unclassified summaries and potentially important gossip) into a small regular ezine. It made for a good cover for Grace. "Rosie" had a nice straightforward prose style.

  She could probably sell some of these articles.

  The feature ended with Ted's crowning achievement: the coordination of "important maintenance" to be done "sometime soon."

  "I'm not at liberty to disclose the full schedule," the second-shift manager said, obviously showing off his online-managerial-degree vocabulary. "Rest assured, we are endeavoring to make the entire transaction as invisible to the customer as possible."

  Hm. And what could be more "invisible" than taking the plant down during a power outage planned for a religious festival?

  Grace included a photo of Tedla. Why was I not surprised to see he had stickers on his nametag? And what a cheesy grin! So happy and optimistic, posing with his clipboard by a dark control panel.

  The photo looked familiar. Why? I stared at the screen, but Ted's grinning face offered no answers.

  This was stupid! Dragons have excellent memories. Even in my post-St. George form, I retained anything I learned, remembered things I saw, heard, smelled, or tasted. So why would this photo tease at me?

  My legs started protesting having been in one position for so long. I huffed a sigh as I uncrossed them. Crossing legs—that was something I couldn't do as a dragon. Had to be human for that.

  Be human. Human!

  My heart spasmed in my chest. What if I were turning human? What if the spell were becoming permanent?

  Counterspell! What was the counterspell?

  Immediately, the tap code sprang to my mind, but I clenched my fists in the effort to not activate it. If I gave in to panic, I could ruin everything. I closed my eyes and forced my breathing to slow. Grace promised. Grace said I was a dragon, and this was just a shell. Grace told me—

  Grace!

  I opened my eyes and looked for the paper Grace had written yesterday's message on.

  Surely, if I were transforming in a more permanent way, my senses would go before my mind. If I could read it, I was still okay. I didn't see it, but my eyes fell on the nightstand between the beds, where Charlie had put today's schedule. There! Grace's elegant, reassuring writing: Gay? What kind of game are you two playing? Please remember who you work for!

  I wanted to bring that paper to my lips and clutch it to my heart. I glanced over the rest.

  She'd written instructions to meet her and Rak at eleven-thirty tonight on the beach. Photo Seventeen showed the spot.

  Crisis over, I turned my dragon brain to the problem of the picture. If I didn't recognize it right away, it had to be different, very different, yet with some important similarity.

  Well, it wasn't Ted, stickers on the nametag notwithstanding. Yeah, it was McThing's trademark but not significant enough to ring any bells. I looked at the background: big column on the right, a door peeking out from behind, a tall bank of computers lining the back wall, a workstation in the foreground Ted could have leaned on if he weren’t feeling so proud. Lots of buttons with words too small to make out and too blurry to read when I enlarged the photo. Not that it'd matter; dragons tend to be liberal arts majors. I'd have no idea what the symbols would mean even if I could read them.

  I didn't have to understand it. I just had to remember where I recognized it from and make the connection.

  Sitting in bed with a laptop on my knees was not the most comfortable position. I paused a minute to stretch my neck and shoulders. My gaze fell on an artsy black-and-white photo of some Caribbean island that had nothing in common with Bhandar Baru.

  Black and white!

  I saved Ted's photo; then called up a graphics program and changed the setting to grayscale. Bingo! Who's the dragon?

  I had seen that console before!

  Oh, yeah!

  In the history binder at Gates' office.

  Oh, no!

  The one with the articles about the power plant that blew up.

  "Oh, sh—!" I bit off the curse as I sprang from bed. Or tried to. My thigh cramped up in a fierce Charlie horse, sparking a string of profanity I could not stop. Funny how imminent doom didn't draw as strong a reaction as one overtaxed muscle.

  Grunting and rubbing my thigh, I sat back down on the bed. I read through the rest of Grace's stuff quickly, reassured my dragon memory was still intact. All the clues were there, confirming our worst suspicions.

  Festival was Friday. We had two days to stop a Nordic demigod evil overlord—overlady, overbeing, whatever—from blowing up a nuclear power plant, possibly destroying half an island full of revelers in the process, and creating an Interdimensional Gap through which she can bring the rest of her giant relatives to set up housekeeping where the Faerie Catholic Church didn't have the power to control them. In other words, two days until Hel broke loose.

  I've had worse deadlines. I could afford a long bath in our whirlpool tub and a good meal first.

  I had time to soak out the kinks and get a cool shower. I dressed in swim trunks and a T-shirt, thinking I might check the pool to see if Grace were there. Now that we had "met," I might be able to strike up a conversation and drop a hint. After I ate. I'd just grabbed my keys and the erased memory card, which I planned to toss in some public trash can, when Charlie came in with a covered tray.

  "Sorry it took so long," he said. "I was, uh..."

  I didn't wait for explanations. I swiped the tray and set to it with manners more reminiscent of my dragon self than human. Afterward, with full stomachs and a can of spray-on sunblock, we headed down to the pool.

  Just as I'd hoped, we found Grace poolside, sitting under an umbrella and sipping iced tea, a notebook on the table. She wore a light blue blouse and a patterned skirt like I'd seen at the flea market stall that catered to the tourists. "Handcrafted." Right. In Taiwan. I nudged Charlie and went to her. Seemed fairly natural to do. The pool was mostly empty, with fol
ks either still recovering from last night, or out on one of the many tours offered by the hotel. In fact, the pool man was taking the opportunity to rid the water of the bugs that had gone for a dip and met their chlorinated demise.

  "No diving today?" I asked.

  "Too tired. I might make a careless error. In fact, I was debating the wisdom of getting up as early as I did."

  "Partner sleeping in?" I asked.

  "Randy and the most imposing Helen Li managed to disappear sometime after two, I believe it was. I've not seen him yet today. And is this your...partner?" How she managed to smile and not glare at Charlie amazed me. Nonetheless, she filled that one word with so much meaning even the pool man glanced our way then quickly turned back to his work. Too bad spies can't get Oscars.

  Charlie reddened under her scrutiny. "Oh, it's not like that! We've never said we were, uh—"

  "It's complicated," I said. Good phrase, useful and Mundane.

  "I'm sure it is," "Rosie" replied, arching an eyebrow. I couldn't help thinking she had nice eyebrows, expressive and fine. Not narrow-fine, but fine.

  Yep. Complicated. I'd be glad to shed this human body and get things back to normal.

  I introduced Nigel, and they shook hands. She invited us to sit. The bartender personally came to take our orders, water for me and a Ping Extra for Charlie. I didn't think my stomach could take anything stronger.

  "So what's on your agenda today? More jungle adventures?"

  "No jungles!" I said before Charlie could react. "I'd like to take a tour of the nuclear power plant. I've never seen one. I'd be curious about its layout, if they really use all those racks and rows of buttons; what the emergency procedures are, in case of an accident, you know. That stuff." That was about as blatant a hint as I could come up with.

  Rosie feigned mild interest and sipped her tea. "Well, you're out of luck this week. The plant is closed for the festival."

  "Figures. Then I'm for hanging out by the pool and relaxing. Or maybe the beach, if we can find someplace quiet and out of the way. Someone doesn't want me around women." I folded my hands over my chest, slouched a little, and gave Nigel a dark but amused look. The pool man had cleared the water of vermin for as far as his net would reach but was still hanging around, so I figured I'd give him a show.

  "Do you really want to discuss this now? Here?" Nigel asked testily.

  Nice lead in, if unintentional. I shrugged. "We can do it on the beach. Say two-thirty? I want to sleep while the sun's so hot. We can find someplace nice for a moonlight walk later, too."

  I tapped one finger—one, one-two, one, one-two—while I watched my partner squirm.

  "Well, I was hoping for some time alone," he hedged.

  My eyes narrowed slightly. Was he serious or playing? "We'll be alone."

  The net slipped out of pool man's hands and fell into the water.

  Grace gagged on her drink. She coughed once, sharply; then took a few more swallows.

  "Well!" she said with false cheeriness. "I'll leave you two to your plans. I think I'll go see if the cat has dragged Randy back in."

  One cough. Yes. She'd meet me at two-thirty and bring Rak if she could.

  "So what do you need time alone for?" I asked. I switched to Gaelic, which would be in character.

  He squirmed under my gaze. "I just want some time to think is all." His hand moved to the pocket of his swim trunks. He hadn't let the ring box out of his possession since I'd returned it to him.

  I sighed. I didn't understand human relationships. Charlie and Heather loved each other.

  They were both able, ready, and until two weeks ago more than willing to seal that love in marriage. Human lives were so short. Why waste time stressing out over an uncertain future when the immediate present posed such joys?

  Well, I wasn't human. If he needed to agonize this afternoon over what should be a foregone conclusion, let him. He needed a clear head tonight. I could fill him in on the details of what we discussed later.

  "Listen, you need some time, fine. Let's go take a walk and talk now and then do our own thing until dinner."

  "Seriously?"

  I switched to English. "I just want you to be happy." I batted my eyes at him, but I did mean what I'd said. Just not the way I said it.

  We grabbed some hotel towels and started toward the beach gate. As we passed by the pool man, I growled in English, "Shut your jaw. You're letting in flies."

  * * * *

  Later that afternoon, I wandered on the beach alone, shoes in my hand and bare feet sinking slightly into the wet sand as the waves lapped against my ankles. The breeze coming in off the water was cool enough to calm the heat of the sun. Clouds on the horizon promised rain in the evening. Other than an undermanned volleyball game closer to the hotel, no one was around. I stopped and breathed in the sea air. It made me nostalgic for the days I was thirty feet from snout to tail and claimed the beaches from Carthage to Elaea as my own.

  I loved the beach: burrowing in the cool sand on warm days and warm sand on the cool; soaring on ocean breezes, reveling in the feeling of my wings slicing the wind, tucking in and diving, wide-mouthed to catch some sea creature unaware, spreading my wings to float as I ate.

  Riding the waves back to the shore, stretching out under the sun. Yeah, I loved the beach. As a dragon.

  Dragons don't get itchy from sand and salt. Dragons don't have to deal with biting insects.

  (I scratched at a bite I got that morning.) Dragons don't get the shivers over the slimy feel of seaweed around the ankles. Eww.

  Why do humans like the beach?

  I rounded a curve and came to a more rocky area. I stopped to let my feet dry enough to put on my shoes then went on. I and Charlie had scoped out the place earlier, but I'd have found the way regardless. I could hear the easy cadence of Grace praying the rosary. I grinned, quickened my pace, and caught her in the middle of the Sorrowful Mysteries. Sitting on a rock near her, I joined in, finishing the Sorrowful; then moving on to the Glorious, the Luminous, and the Magical. We spoke in Faerie Latin, but I didn't worry. Grace had to have checked the area for bugs and spent some of her magic creating a ward. We were alone.

  After the last "Amen," we sat in companionable silence, letting the moment flow over us like the gentle lullaby of the waves.

  Grace closed her eyes, drinking in the peace. She still wore the outfit she'd had on at the pool, the skirt spread over the rock like a mermaid's tail and the shirt sticking slightly from sweat. Her hat with the wig attached waited within easy reach on the rock, and the wind ruffled her red hair, making the silver highlights shimmer. I don't mean silver as a polite way to say gray, incidentally; her silver came from her siren blood, not age. Her eyelids lowered, and she breathed a long sigh. I could see the shadows in her eyes and the fine lines along her mouth.

  "How're you holding up?" I asked her.

  "I miss my habit. You?"

  I slapped at an offending bug. "I miss my scales."

  "I miss my workshop."

  "I miss you."

  She gave me a sweet, sad smile. "Me, too. Do you think we can wrap this up before Sunday?"

  "We have to go in tonight." I told her about the pictures and my suspicions. "Any chance we can get back-up?" I concluded. Maybe being in human form was making me feel frail; I did not want to deal with malfunctioning nuclear reactors and murderous demigods without some bigger guns than six miniature medallions could provide. Besides which, creating the Gap took effort on both sides: a nuclear accident in Mundane and a magical misspell in Faerie.

  Grace toyed with her rosary beads. "I sent a message to the Inquisition and to Asgard last night. But I've been thinking. It doesn't make sense, Vern! I know Hel, and that woman is her; I'm sure it is. Yet... This isn't her style. What does she want here?"

  "Looking for a better deal? Odin gave her a bum rap."

  "Aye, banishing her to Niflheim because of her parentage, but through the grace of God, she made something out of it, a place of rest a
nd solace for the dead Norse before the trials of Purgatory. She's never cared about power. Satan offered her that in the Great War in return for her allegiance, and she refused him. Not that she wanted to help our side, either. She just wanted to be left alone." Grace sighed. "She’d always seemed so sad, depressed even."

  "Maybe she's taking Prozak, or getting counseling, or something?"

  Grace arched her eyebrow. "And her counselor suggested world domination would be therapeutic?"

  I raised one eyebrow back. One thing I did enjoy about being human, eyebrows. I'd actually spent an hour in front of the mirror practicing until I could lift just one. "Does it matter why? The fact is—"

  I cut off as I heard footsteps on the sand. Grace froze, too, though she could not have heard anything yet. With one hand, she reached back for her wig.

  I felt my muscles tense. I wondered if I would spring in attack or escape. I hadn't hit anyone yet in this form. I wasn't sure what it could do.

  Our walker started whistling "All My Exes Live in Texas."

  Grace's shoulders sagged with relief, and she whistled back, "Coca Cabana."

  We waited as Rak continued walking and whistling. Occasionally, I'd hear him stop and take a couple of pictures. When he rounded to corner to our little hideaway, I said, "Well, look who's gone to Hel and back."

  Rak grinned and wagged a finger at me.

  "Have a good time?" I asked, deliberately avoiding the obvious joke that would have been overkill.

  "As a matter of a fact, I did. A productive time, too."

  "Yeah? Then you got a motive for Hel wanting to gain power in the Mundane world?"

  "I dunno. If her life resembles our legends at all, seems to me like she had a pretty rotten deal at home. Are we sure it's the same Hel, by the way? I thought she was supposed to be dead or decaying or something from the waist down, and there was nothing wrong with those legs!"

  "She did have a set of gorgeous gams."

  The words were out of my mouth before I realized it. Both Rak and Grace turned surprised faces at me.

  "Oh, come on! Humans appreciate my gorgeous wings and scales—and rightly so. Why can't I appreciate a beautiful human?"