The Dragon King and I

by Adrianne Brooks

  Good thing I didn’t, because otherwise I would have missed the little signal she sent the bouncer. Before he could take more than a few steps in my direction I reached into my purse and slapped a five dollar bill onto the stage and the stripper purred like a kitten before allowing the bouncer to stand down.

  “That’s more like it, pup.” Leaning her upper body back along the stage she lifted her hips, and moved her bottom half like…well let’s just say that the implication was that something raunchy was being done to her nether regions.

  My mouth went dry and I felt myself turn a couple of unnatural shades of red.

  “Um.” I said, speaking to her vagina since it was currently giving me the stink eye, “I’m not really here for a dance. I’m actually looking for someone.”

  She snorted, “Tell me a lie I haven’t heard before.”

  She poked me in the cheek with her boob and I angled my head away and scowled into her neck.

  “Her name is Seraphim.”

  There was a brief hesitation, and then the woman in front of me extended her left foot, toe extended like a ballet dancer, and let an older man who’d sat beside me pull her panties the rest of the way off with his teeth. She considered me silently while the music pulsed its drugging beat and the man with her g-string in his mouth fell into a pleasure induced coma.

  “What about her?” She said finally, getting back into the groove of her routine.

  “You know her?”

  Her lips quirked as if she were laughing at some private joke. “We’ve met.”

  Relieved, I put another five on the stage so she wouldn’t be tempted to wander off right when we were getting somewhere.

  “I need to talk to her.”

  “Seraphim doesn’t really like…”

  My brow furrowed, “Talking?”

  “People.”

  “So, you’re not going to help me find her?”

  “Nope.”

  “Oh.” My shoulders slumped and I stared down at the stage, mind working furiously.

  A couple of seconds passed, during which the stripper got to her feet and bent over. The man singing the song was ordering her to shake it like a salt shaker, and while I personally had never used a salt shaker, I thought she was doing an admirable impersonation. While I applauded her technique, I probably could have gone the rest of my life without knowing what the inside of her va-jay jay looked like.

  Rising, I turned away from the stage and began making my way through the rest of the club. If she knew Seraphim, then there was a good chance the rest of the employees here knew her as well. One of them had to be willing to point me in the right direction. A sense of urgency began to set in; it was already 11:30. If the rest of the staff proved as reluctant as the pretty stripper, then I was going to be SOL.

  While I questioned the half-naked wait-staff, the bartender, and the other dancers, I noticed something very peculiar about the men occupying the club. There was something…off about each and every one of them. Not only had I not been accosted or leered at by a single patron (weird to complain about that), they all reminded me a bit of Flo.

  Some of the men were too small, their skin too tough, like bark or leather. Others were simply too tall, slim figures willowed out almost to the point of emaciation. The rest were vaguely animalistic. Dangerous. It wasn’t the vibe one would get in a room full of bikers or gang bangers. This was more along the lines of ‘Granny, what big teeth you have’.

  A wolf in accountant’s clothing.

  To any casual observer I’m sure they all seemed normal enough, but just like with Flo, if I looked just a little harder, maybe out of the corner of my eye, I could just make out the…ah.

  See that?

  They sizzled.

  The longer I worked the room, the more obvious the power around me became until I was standing in the middle of the club with my arms wrapped around myself and flinching each time a man passed too closely to me.

  “But I am human.”

  My own words mocked me.

  “No, dear. You aren’t.”

  “How would you know?”

  “Because I’m not, either.”

  They were like her. Like us if her accusations were to be believed.

  Inhuman.

  Had the world always been like this? Or had I simply stumbled into a part of it I’d never seen before? It was hard to say, but one thing I knew for certain was that I didn’t handle sudden changes in my environment very well. Which was why, when a waitress came and tapped me on the shoulder, I swung around and punched her in the nose.

  Maybe she was concerned, maybe she wanted to ask me to leave, or hell, maybe she was just trying to do her job by offering me a drink. I’d never know. Mainly because she was unconscious. The other contributing factor had to do with the fact that strip club bouncers, by definition, don’t care too much for violence against their female coworkers.

  I would like to say that I handled things well after that. Talked myself out of some serious trouble maybe. But here’s the thing. Being tackled by a 200 pound man is no walk in the park. It hurts like a bitch and pretty much takes away the concentration necessary for one to ‘talk’ oneself out of anything at all.

  I’m not ashamed to admit that there was sobbing involved.

  Otherwise I reacted to my situation in the best way that I knew how. Which is to say that I reverted back into childhood techniques, which consisted of squirming around like a worm to try and get loose, punching, kicking, biting, and when all else failed, flailing ineffectually at my attacker’s chest (thereby generating sympathy from any onlookers) and wailing like a banshee.

  I didn’t really expect it to work, but to my pleased shock someone pulled the angry man off of me, and hauled me to my feet. I half expected to look into the eyes of a concerned (and ruggedly handsome) young man, whom, coincidently enough, would fall madly in love with me over the span of two to three weeks. It’s how it usually worked in trashy romance novels. But keeping in theme with my night, it wasn’t a dashing knight in theoretical armor. Instead it was the stripper I’d first spoken with.

  She had her g-string slung around the back of her neck as if it were a feather boa, and she towered a good foot over me thanks to her bend-me-over-a-desk-and-fuck-me heels. She was coated in a fine sheen of sweat from her number and her blond hair was plastered to her cheeks and bare chest. I had no idea how she’d moved that bouncer. I had no idea how she’d lifted me up like I was no heavier than a sack of flour.

  I suspected that it had something to do with the fact that, unlike every other dancer I’d spoken with, this one was spewing energy like nobody’s business. Now that I knew what to look for, and most importantly, how to look for it, it was hard to stop seeing. From the corner of my eye I saw the man who’d taken me down, get to his feet, only to wander off in a daze.

  I swallowed, and met the curiosity in those green eyes with a nod of gratitude.

  “Thanks.”

  She grinned, “No biggie. What else are Fairy Godmothers for?”

  I felt myself blanch and the realization that followed left me cold and distinctly unhappy.

  “Seraphim.” It was more statement than question and she nodded and bit her lip in glee, her hands gripping mine in a shake enthusiastic enough to make all of her parts bounce.

  “In the flesh.” Seraphim grinned and the devilment in her expression, along with the flash of too-sharp teeth, marked her as a troublemaker. And maybe a bit of a carnivore.

  * * * *

  “You want a coke or something?”

  I eyed the dressing room dubiously and shook my head as I took a seat.

  Seraphim shrugged and continued with her post performance ministrations. Most of which consisted of wiping her body down with a towel and redressing in her street clothes. I checked the time and was shocked to find that it was about ten minutes till midnight.

  “Why does your shift end so early?”

  She smiled at me from over her shoulder as she buttoned her s
horts and slipped her feet into a plain pair of black flats. “After everything you’ve seen, that’s the first question that pops out of your mouth?”

  It was my turn to shrug. What could I say? It made sense that the later it grew the more people would be wandering into the club. Following that thought process; it didn’t make sense for her to leave before the crowds came. But she seemed distinctly unconcerned by the amount of money she was most likely missing out on.

  The woman needed a manager or something.

  Seraphim shook her head at me and finished buttoning her loose fitting blouse. “A manger to a stripper is as a pimp to a hooker.”

  I gasped with such outrage, she may as well have just spit in my face.

  “You can read my mind, too?”

  Super-strength and mind-reading capabilities. Plus, the glitter on her skin didn’t wash off.

  She was an X-Man.

  Her lip curled, “You’re an idiot.”

  Strangely enough, the accusation didn’t offend me. “On occasion, yes.”

  She laughed at that and pulled a chair over so that she could sit next to me. “I knew there was a reason I was assigned to you. So,” and here she crossed one leg over the other and leaned back in her seat. “How did it go?”

  “How did what go?” I asked hesitantly.

  She waved an impatient hand. “The session.” I kept my face blank. “With Clarabell?” My poker face knew no bounds and she finally scowled, reached forward, and grabbed my hand.

  “What are you doing?” I jerked away. Or at least tried to but she still had that super strength thing going on for her.

  Hissing an irritable, “Shh.” She closed her eyes and folded my hand in both of hers. Her grip was wicked strong but surprisingly gentle. Finally I settled down and let her do whatever witchy business she was currently about.

  It took all of thirty seconds before she pushed me away from her with a curse. She rose from her chair with such speed that it slid across the concrete floor. Pacing, hands folded at the small of her back she cursed me yet again. She made three quick circuits around the room before she was finally able to take a deep breath and bring her temper under control. Seraphim sat across from me once again, and her manner was decidedly unfriendly.

  “You didn’t go.”

  I cleared my throat nervously.

  “No. I didn’t”

  Why did I suddenly feel as if I were trapped in a room with my mother during one of her fits? My eyes darted nervously to the air vents in the corner before I firmly reminded myself that as a Fairy Godmother, Seraphim didn’t need to resort to things like knock-out gas or snipers. She could just squash me like a bug with a wave of her magic wand. I stifled an almost hysterical giggle at the mental image, correctly assuming that Seraphim wouldn’t find it as amusing.

  Speaking of the devil, she cracked her knuckles and her eyes narrowed down to slits. “It took me years to set up an agreement with that itchy twitchy witch. I’ve been trying ever since those disgusting little maggots cornered you in the locker room. The problem is that her help was contingent upon you actually wanting to be helped.”

  I somehow gathered that the phrase ‘itchy twitchy’ was not an endearment.

  “Oh,” I said rather weakly. “So…she is a witch?”

  Seraphim sniffed, “Of course. Psychics can’t break curses. Only witches can do that.”

  I knew it.

  Alex: 1

  Rachel: 0

  “But it doesn’t matter now, does it?” Seraphim continued acidly. “Because someone—” I felt a curious prickle along the back of my neck and the hair along my arms stood on end. This, admittedly, was alarming given my company. “—decided to watch Grey’s Anatomy instead.”

  “It’s a good show.”

  She snarled at me and the sparkles in her skin flashed blood red. Her eyes pooled black and her teeth glinted like knives. That prickle on the back of my neck suddenly felt like a brand and I screamed as the room suddenly filled with the stink of burnt flesh. The pained noise must have gotten through to her somehow because Seraphim jerked herself back under control with an almost audible snap. One second she was Xena: Warrior Princess ala The Exorcist, and the next she was Glenda the Good Witch, smiling magnanimously at me, silver speckled skin once again shining like an untouched diamond.

  The change happened so quickly that it was even more frightening than her loss of control had been.

  I touched the back of my neck with a shaking hand and hissed out a pained breath as I felt the bubbled tissue that signified a serious burn.

  “Oh, dear.” Seraphim placed a delicate hand against her lips in horror and I felt the muscle in my eyelid begin to twitch spasmodically. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. Here.” She waved a careless hand and I couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief as the throbbing pain disappeared. When I next touched the back of my neck it was to find the skin once again smooth and undamaged.

  The hand that I lowered slowly back into my lap shook as violently as the rest of me. Seraphim, thankfully, didn’t seem to notice. Instead she was too caught up in her new courteous persona.

  “Now, I’m not sure how you found me my dear. Our laws are very strict when it comes to discretion. If things had gone as they were meant to, you and I never would have passed each other on the streets let alone spoken face to face.”

  “Flo—”

  There was a momentary crack in her new veneer, but she held it together. “Ah. Florence. That would explain things wouldn’t it?” She settled more comfortably in her seat and cocked her head to one side. “Tell me, love. What exactly did ‘Flo’ say to you?”

  I licked painfully dry lips, “She uh, she didn’t really tell me anything. Just that Madam Clara couldn’t help me anymore. And that you were my last hope.”

  Seemingly oblivious to the note of doubt that had crept into my voice, Seraphim tapped her chin with a single French tipped fingernail. “Last hope, huh?”

  I nodded, eyeing her warily the entire time and wondering if I could make it out of the room if it looked as if she were going to flip out again.

  “Well,” she clapped her hands together once. Obviously pleased with whatever conclusion she’d reached. “I like the sound of that.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Florence, nosy little wretch that she may be, actually came through for us both. She’s found a way to help you. Or rather, for you to help yourself.”

  “How so?” I was curious despite my better judgment. After all, this is what I’d come to her in the first place for.

  Her voice was still as pleasant as homemade pie when she replied. “It’s called a Knight-errant in some circles, an Odyssey in others. I’m fond of ‘last ditch effort’ myself.”

  “Now if that isn’t a boost to my confidence, I don’t know what is.”

  Seraphim laughed, and for the first time since she’d fried me, I relaxed. Maybe personal injury was just how magical beings introduced themselves.

  “What does this…knight-errant consist of exactly? How does it help me?”

  “It’s a Quest. You’ll need to go on a journey, fight a few monsters, collect a few items, throw them in a pot, spout some magical drivel, and Badda Bing Badda Boom, you’re cured.”

  That phrase again.

  “What do you mean by ‘fighting monsters’?” This was the part that concerned me the most. Seraphim opened her mouth to answer, only to gasp in surprise.

  “Crap. It’s nearly Twelve.”

  I glanced at the clock in the corner and saw that it was a minute to Midnight.

  “So?”

  “The magic lives from 12 to 12. Twixt and Twain and back again.”

  “…I’m not sure what part of that sentence to examine first.”

  Seraphim ignored me in favor or searching furiously through each of the vanities. Finally she pulled out a tube of lipstick, glanced around helplessly for a moment, before her eyes finally settled on a wall of mirrors with a little ‘ah’ of
satisfaction.

  “What are you—” my voice trailed off as I watched her, because ‘what’ she was doing soon became all too obvious.

  Ingredients

  - A lock of fairy’s hair

  - An item bought from the goblin’s market

  - A mirror (preferably magic)

  - A genie’s tongue

  - The final breath of an honest man

  - A dragon’s heart

  “Absolutely not.”

  “It’s the only way, pup.” she twirled away from the mirrors, a small tornado of barely contained energy. She gathered her purse and the outfit she’d worn on stage. I watched her consider the lipstick she’d found with a jaundiced eye before she pocketed it.

  “There’s no way I can get all of those things. I wouldn’t even know where to start. Why can’t you just…” I waved my arms in a silent interpretation of casting a spell, “or something? Cinderella’s Godmother would have owned this curse. This curse would have been her bitch by now.”

  Seraphim came to stand before me, wagging a finger in front of my face as she spoke.

  “That’s the best part of this whole mess. I can’t reverse a curse I cast. That’s magic 101.”

  There it was. The punch line that was my life. Shocking really, the amount of hurt her words generated. I almost felt…betrayed. Seraphim leaned forward, and kissed me softly upon the lips. I barely had a chance to register the feel of her skin on mine before she blinked out of existence.

  My heart plummeted and I coughed as a shower of sparkling dust filled the air where she’d once stood.

  I had only just met the woman, but having her disappear on me like that filled me with an indescribable amount of panic. Not just because she was the only one who could help me (even though she’d just admitted that she couldn’t) but because I didn’t understand what had just happened. I felt my stomach twist with worry and nerves.

  “Seraphim?” I called hoarsely, still choking on glitter. “Seraphim!”

  “What?”

  I was both relieved and uncomfortable to hear her disembodied voice echoing through the room. I hesitated, but in the end had to speak the words anyway.