Dancing with Dragons

by Lorenda Christensen

  Daniel stood and slid past the IV stand. “Tell me, Mr. Green, would you be interested in giving me something I can quote for my article tomorrow?”

  Article?

  I felt the bandage move on my head as my eyebrows shot up. “You’re a reporter!” My heart clenched as I mentally ran through our conversation.

  I’d been focused on keeping the inner workings of DRACIM safe from the curious public, not from a man with knowledge and experience taking tiny bits of information like this and digging up the full story behind them.

  If word got out about all that had happened, we’d have another World War on our hands. Hian-puo’s trial had been a step in the right direction for human-dragon interactions. DRACIM’s media arm had done a great job presenting the trial as proof that the dragon council cared about the Chinese dragon lord’s treatment of his human subjects, and had taken action to stop it.

  Despite their efforts, our human governments were still highly hostile to the dragon nations. They didn’t play by human rules, and we didn’t have a good way to make them. DRACIM was doing its best to change that fact with the few human-friendly dragon lords willing to attend talks about human rights.

  But according to Myrna, the idea of worldwide dragon laws against human mistreatment was still little more than a pipe dream. Despite what DRACIM was trying to make the public believe, most of the dragon council, Relobu excluded, had taken an interest in Hian-puo’s actions because he’d been building a bomb that harmed dragons, not because he was routinely rude and dangerous to the humans in his territory.

  At the trial, I’d agreed with the approach. It was better for dragons in general to appear in a positive light while DRACIM worked behind the scenes. Nicer dragons meant the human world would more likely take a “wait and see” stance for Hian-puo’s successor, instead of panicking about the remaining dragon lords tearing a hole through the world in a battle to determine who got the remaining territory. We had too many world leaders with itchy trigger fingers, and if we had another war, I was almost positive the humans wouldn’t come out the winners.

  And I’d just blabbed information directly to the press. Sure, I’d been somewhat circumspect, but Daniel had obviously done his homework. Trips to China were rarer than black dragons. The only course left open was to find out how much the reporter knew, and get the information to Myrna in time for her to play a little damage control. Taking a moment to mutter a silent apology for adding to Myrna’s workload, I straightened my shoulders and met Daniel Wallent’s eyes. “I’m afraid now isn’t the best time for an interview. But I’d be glad to discuss your story after I’ve been discharged. Perhaps sometime next week, when I’m feeling a bit better?”

  “I am afraid I must agree. She is in no shape for interviews.” The doctor jumped into action, crossing the room to retrieve a small set of scissors from a drawer.

  Daniel Wallent angled his body toward my bed and leaned in close, exposing a dimple in his left cheek. “Next week, hmm?”

  I nodded, embarrassed and annoyed when the heart monitor registered the increase in my heart rate at his proximity.

  “Well, Ms. Jenski, I’m afraid next week will be too late. A dragon-killing bomb went off at DRACIM’s Tulsa offices, and I have reliable sources who say your boyfriend was the one who shipped it there. So if it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll be speaking with Mr. Green.”

  Richard shipped a bomb to DRACIM? Mr. Wallent’s information was completely wrong. Richard worked for Lord Relobu. No way would Richard purposely kill dragons. I was reevaluating my assumption that Mr. Wallent had been thorough in his research.

  Glaring at the amused reporter, I wondered how I’d ever thought this man was cute. “Mr. Wallent. I’m afraid speaking to Mr. Green just won’t be possible.”

  He gave me an indulgent smile. “And what makes you say that?”

  “It appears he had another appointment.”

  Chapter Four

  The amused expression dropped from Daniel’s face when he turned toward the spot where Richard had been standing only a moment before. While Daniel had been gloating about his impersonation skills, Richard had sneaked from the room.

  All trace of his superior attitude gone, Daniel shot me one last glare before he bolted out the door in pursuit.

  I laughed, then groaned as the movement jostled my head. Richard wasn’t stupid. There was no way Daniel would be able to track him down today.

  Then it occurred to me—Richard was my ride out of here. My injury had left me with little memory of the route we took to reach the hospital, so I had no idea how to get back to the hotel.

  Any cab driver worth his salt could get me there, of course, assuming I had money to pay for a taxi. Which I didn’t. Also, I wasn’t sure I wanted to return to Hotel Gellért, especially if Hian-puo’s dragons hadn’t cleared out.

  What I really wanted to do was find the next plane headed for North America. But I couldn’t go straight to the airport; my passport was still in my suitcase. Earlier, Richard had seemed more than eager to leave Budapest as well, so it was possible I’d get to the hotel only to realize he’d grabbed my stuff for me while I’d been unconscious.

  I chewed my lower lip, trying to decide whether I’d be better off waiting until Richard returned to the hospital, or whether I should take my chances on a quick flight to Tulsa.

  I much preferred the second option; homesickness was a sick weight in the pit of my stomach, and I really, really wanted out of this hospital bed. But I certainly wasn’t up for another round of avoiding Hian-puo’s thugs. And how would I leave word for Richard on where I’d disappeared to?

  Dr. Garay cleared her throat. Still holding my chart, she peered at me over the rims of her reading glasses. “Mr. Green still works for the North American dragon lord?”

  “Well, um...” Richard had worked for Lord Relobu the last time I checked, but I was beginning to realize I’d missed a lot more than I thought. The idea of Richard as a bomb-maker was laughable. He’d worked for the dragon lord for years now without even a hint of a problem. In fact, he was surprisingly well-adjusted to navigating in a dragon-rich environment considering his father’s history.

  His dad—paralyzed from the waist down in an attack by angry dragons—had been Richard’s responsibility since he turned fifteen. But Richard hadn’t seemed to mind, much less blame Relobu for it.

  But since I’d woken up, Richard was acting strange. What if Daniel Wallent wasn’t as crazy as I thought he was? Maybe Richard really had been involved with the bomb that went off at DRACIM—

  And then it hit me.

  The rest of the dragon experts were back in Tulsa dealing with the bomb cleanup, both Lord Relobu’s teams and the agents of DRACIM. As Relobu’s top ranking human official, Richard would have been expected to personally direct the dragon lord’s resources in dealing with the aftermath. But Richard had stayed behind with me in Budapest, something even Myrna hadn’t been able to do.

  Relobu had almost certainly ordered Richard back to Tulsa with the others, and Richard had decided to stay here with me instead.

  I flushed with guilt that I was considering Richard was involved. He wasn’t acting strange because he’d set off a bomb. He was acting strange because he’d refused a command from a dragon lord. Nobody did that.

  Relobu was probably furious. No wonder Richard was ready to get me out of the hospital as soon as possible. He probably expected the dragon lord to send someone to “convince” Richard he’d made a bad decision with some claws or teeth. Dragons weren’t exactly the subtle type, and they definitely did not handle rejection well.

  Dr. Garay was still frowning, so I rushed to put her at ease.

  “Please don’t worry. I’m sure Richard will work everything out. Lord Relobu isn’t aware we’re even here. No harm will come to your hospital.”

  I certainly hoped I wasn’t lying through my still-attractive teeth.

  Dr. Garay looked startled for a moment, then laughed. “This hospital has be
en here for over one hundred years, and through three World Wars. I’m confident it can survive much worse than a few angry dragons. We’re no strangers to dragons here. In fact, Hungary’s dragon lord, Lady Adelaida, provides generous financial support for the Péterfy Sándor.”

  I blinked, surprised. “That’s—” I wasn’t sure what to say. Ridiculous? Unheard of? Outside the realm of possibility?

  The doctor smiled at my expression. “Your dragon lord isn’t the only one with a positive interest in humans. We make up the largest facility for dragon-related trauma in all of Europe. Lady Adelaida feels it is her responsibility to ensure we are able to provide top-notch service to those who have been victims of her more aggressive subjects.”

  That was the nicest way to refer to creatures prone to murderous rage that I’d heard in a while and I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Myrna had regaled me with stories of “unreasonable” dragons. In a human, similar bursts of anger would be seen as out of the ordinary, but mostly just annoying. But a temper tantrum from a dragon often meant damage to property, and sometimes loss of human life.

  I hadn’t fully understood the constant stress Myrna was under as a DRACIM agent until I’d experienced a dragon temper tantrum firsthand. I fought the urge to shiver at the memory of the green dragon bursting through Myrna’s hotel door as if it had been made of tissue.

  No wonder Richard took off when he realized I’d been talking to the press. Nothing would bring Relobu to our front door faster than our pictures being pasted above the fold in a major newspaper. Even now, after I’d accused him of cheating on me and likely cost him his job, he was still trying to protect me. Unfortunately, that protection had left me momentarily alone in a foreign country.

  Dr. Garay had her gaze directed once again at my chart. She made a few notations to the papers before glancing up with a smile. “I have good news, Carol. I believe your injuries have healed enough that I can process the discharge papers today, so long as you promise to avoid situations that would cause strain for at least ten days. Also, you must call me should you have any issues.”

  “Absolutely. That’s wonderful news.” And it was. Except for the part where I wasn’t sure of my next move.

  While I wasn’t comfortable leaving Richard alone to deal with his issues—especially since I’d indirectly caused most of them—I was doing more harm than good sticking around here. It was time for me to find my way back to Tulsa.

  I hoped there would be something I could do stateside to help him. I had no desire to do anything but get back to my regular life. I’d come along on the trip as a favor to Myrna, but I wasn’t cut out for this kind of work. Give me a quiet cubicle over formal dragon ceremonies any day. I might be bored with the first, but at least there was a greater chance I’d manage to keep the pieces of my skull intact.

  To be perfectly honest, I had no wish to be around should Relobu decide to show his irritation. I just didn’t have the stomach for it. Going back home would be the easiest way to allow Richard to do what he needed to do to get back into Relobu’s good graces without having to worry about me. At this point, the only thing I could do to help was to remove myself from the role of the simpering princess who needed protection. I had no doubt Relobu would welcome Richard back with open arms as soon as the dragon lord realized Richard wasn’t deliberately ignoring his orders.

  Besides, with Myrna’s boss Emory being the idiot that he was, my friend was probably hoping Richard would come back and help her pick up the slack in what had to be the public relations nightmare of the century.

  A dragon-killing bomb at DRACIM. I shivered at the amount of public panic she was likely dealing with right now. DRACIM was as close to neutral territory the humans had in their dealings with dragons, and I couldn’t imagine how people would react to the news that it was no longer safe.

  Speaking of Myrna... “I don’t suppose you have a telephone here at the hospital I could use?” I needed to give her a heads up that I’d be home soon, and that an incompetent reporter was chasing our China story under the mistaken impression that Richard had more sinister intentions.

  “Of course. Just speak to the charge nurse.” Dr. Garay made a final notation on my chart before looking up. “I would greatly prefer to keep you here for another two or three days for observation, but if you feel strongly about leaving today...”

  “I do.” I was getting itchy sitting in a bed that was literally being paid for by one of the very dragons my boyfriend had supposedly tried to kill. I snorted. Even if Richard’s involvement was a mistake, it was super-bad karma.

  The doctor pursed her lips, but she didn’t push. “Well, looks like we have everything in order here; I’ve given you a script for the pain, and you’ll need to have your stitches removed in a few days. You’re likely to experience mild dizziness and slight nausea, but make sure and give us a call if you feel confused, or you experience loss of motor function, no matter how small.”

  “Will do.” I paused, hoping she’d be able to fill me in on the most important detail of being discharged, but when Dr. Garay remained silent and started gathering her things to leave, I cleared my throat and took the plunge. “What about my clothes?”

  The doctor raised an eyebrow in question.

  I moved the blanket off my legs to display the hospital-issue white gown, ragged at the hem and, even freshly laundered, dotted with stains of things I knew hadn’t come from me. “Where are my clothes being kept?”

  They hadn’t been in the restroom when my pony-tailed nurse had helped me hobble in there earlier this morning. Not that I was too excited to put them back on; I’d been in a set of mismatched pajamas when Myrna and I were attacked, and I wasn’t looking forward to hitting the streets in them. But at least they would cover my butt until I could get something decent.

  Unlike the hospital gown.

  Dr. Garay smiled and reached out to pat my hand. “I’m afraid we had to cut your clothes off when you arrived. There was a lot of blood, and we couldn’t be sure it wasn’t yours without taking a look. But don’t worry, dear. We have arrangements with a local business to provide clothing in these situations.” She reached over and pushed the call button on my bed, and seconds later Rosa’s head popped through the doorway. Dr. Garay filled her in on my predicament, and Rosa assured me that all my unmentionables would be covered in no time. The nurse closed the door behind her.

  The doctor made one last effort to convince me to stay, then handed me what looked like a ream of paper filled with directions for continuing my care at home and dire warnings should I not follow said directions explicitly. Thank goodness I had a head for foreign languages, because the sheer volume of Hungarian paperwork I’d been given made me blanch.

  I was feeling pretty cheery, considering. Sure, my boyfriend was currently MIA, my most comfortable pair of pajamas were in shreds and stuffed in a biowaste container somewhere, and my hairstyle was far from ideal. But the doctor had given me a good amount of painkillers, and I was on my way back to America and away from this dragon business forever.

  Not to mention I was about to get clothes—for free. Well, probably not for free, but covered by insurance. How often does that happen? I wondered whether I’d get lucky and they’d bring me something European-branded that’s super expensive in the United States. I hoped Rosa was a good guess on sizes; I didn’t think my bruises would appreciate a marathon try-on session.

  The doctor had been gone around five minutes when Rosa opened the door. The monitor once again registered my excitement, this time at the sight of the red shopping bag dangling from the crook of her arm.

  I love clothes. Even though I spend every day at work choosing outfits for our models to wear, I never get tired of shopping for myself. In fact, that’s how Myrna got me to volunteer for this trip. She needed someone who could read as well as speak the dragon language, and I needed to experience firsthand shopping in Europe—the only continent still creating quality new fashion after the war. Hian-puo’s hissy fit had kept my d
reams of flying to Paris from becoming a reality, but maybe this hospital trip would have an unforeseen bright side.

  I might not have been able to pick them out myself, but I was still going home with a new outfit from a foreign country.

  The nurse reached into the bag and I felt my sore body protest as I sucked in a deep breath. Rosa pulled something from the top.

  The material was...some sort of cotton, and colorful. The cotton I didn’t mind. But the color? It wasn’t my favorite. I preferred to even out the flame red of my hair with more neutral tones. But, I reminded myself with an inner eye roll, since I was missing most of my hair, I could handle more color than usual.

  She shook out the folded fabric and my mind went completely blank. It was the most hideous thing I’d ever seen.

  “Oh, my God. Is that—” Despite the pain, I shook my head, hoping the vision before me was a side effect of my recent injury.

  It didn’t do any good. The colorful fabric wasn’t just colorful, it was Hawaiian print. And it wasn’t a cute little dress. Or even a pair of trendy, cropped pants.

  And then Rosa smiled for the first time since I’d met her. “Miss Jenski, you are American, yes?”

  I nodded, unable to speak. My brain couldn’t make sense of what it was seeing.

  “I hear Americans prefer to dress according to their own style. Things that reflect their personality. This,” she said with a challenging lift to her brow, “is what I see of your personality. Noisy, rude, and not at all pretty.”

  Rude? What had I ever done to her? I was beginning to think she had me confused with someone—

  My thoughts were interrupted by the big clothing reveal. A heavy jolt of shock slammed into my belly.

  It was a muumuu. A long, painfully colored sack that—even in the loose-fitting housedress style—was still at least three sizes too large for me. “Is this a joke?” I just couldn’t comprehend what was happening. I’d been more than hesitant to wear my ratty pajamas, but compared to this outfit, my pajamas were Chanel’s latest dragon-proof design.