The Dragon King and I

by Adrianne Brooks

  “I can’t do this by myself.”

  She sighed and a pair of nipple tassels hanging on a clothes rack rustled with the sound.

  “All good Quests require a certain cast of characters to get the job done. You’re just a Damsel. You can’t have a Quest with just a Damsel. You’ll need-”

  “—a knight.” I finished weakly.

  “Among other things, yes.” I could hear the smile in her voice and I felt something feather light trail down the side of my face. I was too overwhelmed to pull away from the invisible caress, instead closing my eyes and letting out a shaky breath as the knot in my stomach worked to untie itself.

  “Fortunately for you, my lost little lamb, your Knight will know where to begin.” she continued. “I have to go now. Twixt and Twain and all that.”

  The magic lives from 12 to 12.

  “What if I need you?” I asked in a panic. Not that Seraphim was the most stable person I’d ever met, but better the devil you knew than the one you didn’t. And from everything I’d gathered she’d been working in my favor. Sort of. Plus, she was my FG. She was technically supposed to be my automatic go to person, my wingman, my road dog, my phone a friend.

  “I’ll send someone to stay with you. To keep you safe until all the players come together.” her voice was growing weaker. “If there’s something he can’t handle, he’ll know how to reach me.”

  “But—”

  “Look kid.” she snapped, dropping Disney in favor or HBO. “I don’t have time for this all right? I have things to take care of on my end. In the meantime I placed a charm on you.”

  When had she—?

  Ah. The kiss.

  “It should get you home without the curse rearing its ugly head,” she was saying, “but you’re on a time limit.”

  I imagined wandering through downtown at 1:00 in the morning with my gift calling for every male within a two mile radius.

  “More like five mile radius now.”

  I squeaked in pure terror and she laughed.

  “I’d hurry home if I were you.”

  That was advice that I had no qualms about following.

  * * * *

  The club was abandoned when I wandered back through. Everyone, from staff to patron, was gone except for the bartender. The woman ignored me as she wiped down the countertop and I returned the favor, more inclined to get home as soon as possible than to wonder about what had happened to all those people.

  On my way out the door, I almost tripped over an abandoned pair of jeans. Curious, I bent down to pick them up, only to scream when a large, bulbous eyed, frog, jumped out of the waistband and landed in my lap.

  We stared silently at one another, the frog seemingly unimpressed with my antics, and I gave a tremulous smile of apology.

  “He—” I tried again, “Hello.”

  He croaked in response, a strangely polite sound, turned, and hopped away. I watched him until the dimness of the interior hid him from sight. Then shaking my head, I followed his example and got the hell out of there.

  Chapter Three

  “In the fairy tale you mentioned last night, I would probably be the villain. But it’s possible the villain would treat you far better than the prince would have.”

  - Lisa Kleypas, Tempt me at Twilight

  I thought I’d have trouble sleeping once I got home, but that wasn’t the case at all. As soon as my head hit my pillow I was out like a light. The problem wasn’t getting to sleep. The problem was the nightmares that followed the loss of consciousness.

  I was standing in my living room and I wasn’t sure whether it was fear or cold that made me shiver. Maybe a little bit of both. Maybe one was a product of the other. Either way I was huddled there, in the living room, arms clutched around myself and my breath escaping in white cloud bursts around my face, moist still from the heat of my mouth.

  The only source of illumination came from the lights in the hallway, shining from beneath the crack between my front door and the floor. In the dream I knew that I had to remain very quiet. Very still. Because otherwise the animal sniffing at that looming space would find me. The sniffing sound grew louder, and louder. I could hear the undercurrent of hunger in the way the beast growled between each inhale. As if he could taste me on the very air and simply needed something to sink his teeth into.

  I would have stood in that spot, frozen in terror, for centuries had the sniffing not abruptly ceased. Before I could finish my sigh of relief however, the light from the hallway was eclipsed by a man’s head. I met his eye as he peeked at me from beneath the door and watched in horror as, head canted to one side, he grinned at me, slow and feral. Half the smile was lost, blocked by the door itself, but that didn’t diminish its effect.

  “Found you.” he said, voice ripe with triumph and began clawing at the narrow space, nails biting into the wood of the floor, sharpening and growing, until his hands were no longer hands, but claws. He angled his head again, and still smiling that Cheshire smile, sunk his teeth into the bottom of the door frame and began to rip it apart.

  He was going to get in.

  I whimpered and stumbled away, my eyes glued to the wolf at my door. Then there came a sound from behind me; the eerie rustle of fur on skin. I turned just as a heavy, snarling, weight, slammed into me and drove me to the ground. I looked into the face of the monster; lips peeled back to reveal razor sharp teeth, yellow slitted eyes bright with madness, and a long, blood red tongue, that flicked between its canines to lick at its jaws. I screamed and it swallowed the sound down as if I’d fed it oxygen after an eternity of everything but.

  “Found you.” it growled, and I screamed myself awake as it lunged forward, and ripped out my throat.

  Someone was at my door.

  I’d gotten home around 1:30, so in reality I’d only been asleep for a handful of hours before there was a knock at my door. The sound of someone knocking was both cause for nerves as well as relief because I didn’t want to be alone, but at the same time I had no idea who, or what, would be waiting for me on the other side of that door. Also, despite what common sense and mathematics told me, I felt too exhausted to have gotten a full eight hours of shut-eye.

  I stumbled out of my bedroom, robe clutched around me like a shield. I hesitated on the threshold to the living room, and would have retreated once again, had there not come a second knock. There was no feel of animosity in the air, so I could rule out both Rachel and the crazed hallway killer.

  That meant that it was probably the man Seraphim said she’d send over to help.

  My Knight.

  The thought galvanized me and even though every fiber in my being screamed at me to retreat back to the safety of my bedroom, a deeper desperation forced me out into the open. I hurried through my living room, head down, looking neither left nor right, and didn’t pause for anything until I could finally press my body against the unyielding presence of the front door.

  Once there, I realized that I was shaking like a leaf. I felt...exposed. Like even this part of my apartment had grown too large for me to traverse through safely. It was dangerous here.

  ‘It’d be dangerous no matter where you went. It’s not safe anywhere anymore. That’s why you have to fix this.’

  Thank you inner voice.

  I breathed deep, and consciously relaxed the muscles that had tightened like cables in my shoulders and back.

  “Who is it?”

  Huh, I almost sounded normal.

  Whoever stood in the hallway, hesitated for a brief moment in time before responding.

  “I’m looking for Alexandria Greyson.”

  I had an alter ego that I pulled out whenever I was doing something official like interviewing for a job or trying to talk my way out of a ticket. The voice implied that I was even whiter than I actually was and also that I would be super good at doing clerical work. I sort of felt like I was either about to be served a notice, or that the landlord had sent up a patsy to bully the rent out of me. Either way, surviva
l instinct kicked in and I let my inner secretary have a go.

  “I’m sorry sir; she’s not in right now. May I ask who’s speaking?”

  The man snorted and then everything fell quiet. Against my better judgment I pressed my ear more firmly against the door to see if I could catch any stray sound, only to end up almost jumping out of my skin when the man barked, “Alex.”

  I was so startled I answered automatically. “What?”

  “I thought so.” he muttered. Then, more loudly, “Open the door. The old lady down the hall is starting to give me hungry eyes.”

  My lips twitched, but I had to be sure. Had to be safe. “Who are you?”

  “Sam.”

  Admittedly, this information didn’t help me since Seraphim had never told me the name of the person she was sending. I frowned.

  He sighed, “Your,” he hesitated and his voice lowered with what sounded suspiciously like embarrassment, “—Fairy Godmother sent me.”

  I opened the door just enough to peep through.

  “What did she look like?”

  “A sparkly psychopath in animal print and no bra?”

  Finally convinced I opened the door and ushered him in, holding my robe closed with one hand. I waved fondly at the ‘old lady’ down the hall as he slipped past me.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Pearson.” she held her paper in one hand as if she’d only stepped into the hall to pick it up. I knew for a fact though, that our papers were delivered to our respective mailboxes all the way down on the first floor, and that she usually got hers as soon as she woke up at 7:00am.

  “Good morning dear.” She quirked her eyebrows and her lips pursed in that way that said she’d tasted some gossip and found it juicy. “Quite a strapping young man you have there.”

  My face flushed. “Uh. Thanks?”

  She chuckled and I slammed the door shut before that particular conversation could go any further.

  Not that I disagreed with her.

  Sam (no last name as of yet) was currently examining my apartment with unabashed curiosity, which gave me the opportunity to do the same to him. He’d pulled his wavy black hair into a topknot, bun, type deal. The only reason I knew it was wavy was because a few strands had escaped and curled along the nape of his neck. His glasses were simple, square, and frameless. He was about 6’0 even and wide.

  My apartment seemed dwarfed with him inside of it. There was obvious muscle tone beneath the simple black t-shirt and jeans he wore, and when I examined his arms more closely (because of the muscle factor) I noticed the faint white lines that spoke of old scars. It told me that he hadn’t gotten all of that definition from a gym. Some of it he’d had to fight for.

  He was built like a Spartan (the Gerard Butler kind, Nom).

  I liked that.

  Because of his skin tone I thought he may have been of Spanish or Asian descent, but when he finally turned around and met my gaze those assumptions went right out the window. He had a strong face; broad forehead, an aquiline nose, and a wide, full, mouth that looked like it smiled as easily as it spouted lies. He had two small freckles that fascinated me. Just two. One sat along the top right side of his upper lip, and the second one mirrored the first, except it was on his bottom lip. I had the uncontrollable urge to bite his mouth just to connect the dots as it were, and I had to shake my head to drive the images said urge created away.

  In the end, it was his eyes that fully arrested my attention. Slightly slanted and heavily lashed, they were as blue as the day was long. I’d seen pictures of the Caribbean where the ocean was such a bright, pure, blue that it was almost painful to see, and that was how I would describe Sam’s eyes. Trapped in the blue, like stones beneath water, were flecks of black. That was unique enough, but those black flecks? They moved, swirling lazily even as I watched, my own eyes growing as wide as saucers.

  If that wasn’t a clear indication that he was like Seraphim and Flo, I didn’t know what was. The man I’d let into my apartment was indeed ‘strapping’ though the only people I’d ever heard use that word were romance writers and old people. I’d like to present Mrs. Pearson as exhibit A.

  I realized with a start that I had just been standing there, staring at him the way most men stared at me, and I quickly averted my eyes as something that felt suspiciously like shame washed over me. I’d always felt unsafe being ogled at like that, and here I was doing it to someone else. Someone who meant to help me.

  “Would you like some coffee or something?” I asked lamely, indicating the kitchen with a nod of my head without really looking at him. I was about to head to the kitchen but his voice stopped me.

  “Not really.”

  “Oh.” Not sure what to do with myself now that my one and only hostess technique had failed, I stood there and fretted. The silence stretched out and became uncomfortable enough that I really couldn’t avoid it for much longer. I looked at him.

  His head was angled to one side and I realized with a start that he’d been examining me as closely as I had him. When he caught my eye again he grinned at me, all slow molasses and sex appeal and I felt something wild flutter to life in my belly. His grin tugged at one of my own and seeing it only made him smile wider.

  “There you are.”

  There was an eerie similarity to my dream, but somehow I just couldn’t connect the dream monster with…him. Weird. Usually all men were suspect until they proved otherwise.

  “I’m not real sure what to do with you if you don’t want coffee.” I admitted. He waved a dismissive hand.

  “I wasn’t sent here to drink coffee.”

  I hesitated before my next question.

  “Are you the knight?”

  “In shining armor?”

  My heart soared, “Yes.”

  “Hell, no.” only to crash and burn.

  I scowled at him and he laughed as if my annoyance were somehow entertaining.

  “Who are you supposed to be then?”

  “Me?” he pointed to his own chest and I found myself crossing my arm as my eye started twitching. “I’m the sensei to your karate kid. Maybe even your Gandalf the Gray depending on the frequency in which I’m going to have to save your ass over the next few days.”

  That sounded promising.

  “Not sure what good that does me. Seraphim said I’d need a knight.”

  Abruptly he turned on his heel and moved into the living room. I had no choice but to follow.

  “Look at this way,” he began, “You’re new to all this?”

  “Yeah.” I admitted voice ripe with suspicion.

  “Well then consider me your guide to all things magical. I’m sort of like a cheat sheet. Fairytales for Dummies.” he looked at me apologetically and spoke as if revealing some great conspiracy, “You, of course, being the dummy.”

  “I gathered as much, thank you.”

  I watched him wander into the middle of the room and stand in front of my television, hands folded at the small of his back and posture rigid as he looked at each piece of furniture. He eyed the couches with an odd mixture of longing and suspicion and seemed unsure of the function of an ottoman if the way he finally wandered over to it and crouched on its surface like a gargoyle on a church steeple was any indication.

  He looked at me and between eyebrows and head motion, I got the impression that he wanted me to take a seat as well and wasn’t sure why I was still dallying in the entranceway.

  “You’re not too used to playing human are you?”

  I don’t know what prompted me to say such a thing. It just slipped out. It did produce a fascinating result however. Sam’s cheekbones darkened in what I could only assume was a blush and he ducked his head like a little boy caught in the midst of some mischief.

  “Is it really that obvious?”

  “Of course not.” I hurried to assure him, and while most people wouldn’t have taken my words as anything but a bald-faced lie, Sam grinned and let some of that reckless confidence cloak him once more.

  �
��I know how to be a monster.” he admitted cheerfully, “It’s playing human that’s hard.”

  Obviously.

  I suppose that it was right around then that I decided to play a little game with myself entitled: Guess That Preternatural Being. I could have simply asked him, but I suspected that doing so would be the height of rudeness. Plus it was just more fun to figure it out on my own.

  “Do you have the list?”

  I started guiltily, and shook my head. I’d been so eager to leave the club last night that I hadn’t bothered to copy anything that Seraphim had written down. I told him as much and he gave me a slow blink that told me what he thought of my overall intelligence.

  “What the hell are you supposed to do if you don’t know the ingredients?”

  Confused now, I rubbed at the side of my nose and shook my head. “But I do know the ingredients.”

  “You just said—”

  “—that I didn’t write them down.” I tapped the side of my head, “That isn’t the same as not knowing what they are.”

  To demonstrate I spouted off the ingredients with all the ease and speed of a child reciting a favored nursery rhyme:

  - 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

  He straightened on his perch, going perfectly still, and briefly I was put in mind of a hawk that had just spotted a particular juicy rodent to eat. It only lasted for a second or two, and then he allowed the animal to bleed out of his demeanor. I’m not sure what I’d done or said to bring forth that reaction, but I made a mental note anyway:

  Stop antagonizing beings with magical powers and little to no self constraint.

  “Is that it?” he asked, thankfully, sounding completely normal.

  “That’s it.”

  “Huh.”

  I sighed. That hadn’t been a very promising, ‘huh’.