by Lia Davis
Asher surged forward, allowing the wind to lick his sides with his increased velocity. Since the night was so clear and he was larger than before, he’d go higher up to avoid detection. That way, if anyone did see him, they’d think it was a large bird instead of a dragon. Soaring up to where the ground below started to look small, he let loose, doing spirals, loops and all the other stuff he’d missed doing back in the city. Staying in a tight circular pattern around his home, Asher flew hard and strong. His dragon needed this and responded with more power than he’d remembered having. Although it felt like coming home to be up here, his baby was down below in that big house by himself. Asher reined his dragon in and prepared to come back down.
Descending, the air felt so good; he decided to take one last loop before landing. When he’d completed the loop, and pushed ahead to bring his wings in and prepare to dive down in a spectacular landing in the backyard, something the size of a window box fan in rounded form, hard and windy collided with him, hitting him with a direct assault to the head. Asher reeled, losing his sense of balance and orientation. He and whatever that contraption was, began to crash to the ground.
His head hurt like a Mofo, but he was descending too fast to regain control to right himself. His dragon’s body was way bigger than the last time, and the amount of effort to control that amount of mass was harder than before.
This would teach him not to go so long between unleashing his dragon to get in proper exercise. CrossFit, weights and running might do his human body good, but good old fashion flights and being in his dragon body was what worked best for his dragon side. Looking for a way to salvage a collision with the ground, Asher spotted the covered pool. That little round, metal torture device was coming in hard and heavy beside him.
He angled to land in the center of the pool, opting to stay in his dragon form to absorb the impact.
“Oomph!” The sound blasted out of him as the impact of the sturdy tarp against his back scraped and burned.
A few seconds later he felt the little round metal machine crash into the cover. A quick shift back and he was up doing his best to climb over to the machine on the surface of the pool cover. Closing the distance, he looked at the thing. It was homely, mangled and more reminiscent of Frankenstein than something that would hover in the air as it had. Asher got to his feet, thankful that whatever magic had been weaved into his DNA from his ancestors allowed him to retain his clothing during a shift. Having to dress after a shift like this would be problematic. He was already pretty shaken up.
He bent to pick the foreign object up and was surprised at how lightweight it was. That would explain how it didn’t rip the pool covering when it landed. His body hurt from the fall. Memories of when he’d crash landed in Monique’s backyard flooded in. This time, he’d have to patch himself up and shake it off. Instead of standing here and scrutinizing the metal object, he placed it on the side of the pool and hobbled back in for a hot shower and patch up. Looking back at it as it sat, dented and destroyed, Asher would have to figure out what it was in the morning. He’d find out who its owner was and get it returned. All this would have to be done before Brock got up. The last thing he wanted was for his highly curious son to find it and start playing with the thing.
By the time he made it upstairs and to his master bathroom, a knot the size of an egg had formed smack dab in the middle of his forehead, thanks to that little hunk of metal. A hot shower, cold compress, and he was in bed, determined to get enough sleep to figure out what that thing was and keep up with an excited five-year-old. The start to his summer vacation was proving to be eventful if nothing else.
Chapter 5
Daryl—The Guest House
It had been hard to sleep last night with all the dreams looping in her mind about the contract issues. And she could have sworn she’d dreamed there had been a huge explosion right outside her room. One fitful dream after another, she’d given up on getting quality sleep. Deciding to get up when her eyes popped open at a little before six in the morning, she woke to darkness.
The lights were off. There must have been a storm or something to affect the wireless power supply. Her mind started whizzing with all the data she’d be able to pull from the weather issues the turbine had encountered. This would be perfect timing. She could work on that this weekend, craft a counter offer to the contract issues, and by Tuesday have everything updated and sent back.
Looking out the little window over the kitchen sink, she couldn’t see where it had rained, but it was still dark outside. With it still pitch black and not wanting to pull the floating wind turbine back down until she could see how to navigate it safely, Daryl rerouted the power back to the house. The transition was fast and smooth. Turning on a few lights in the kitchen and living area, she set about starting her day.
A quick check of her phone revealed that its power was drained. The turbine must have stopped transmitting power right after she’d gone to bed. Her phone would have to be powered up before she could check the most recent stats. That would be another thing she created—another app platform to access the data. Couldn’t have clients hamstrung when their cell phones were down. She went about plugging in all her personal electronics into the house outlets. When her stomach made a loud growl, Daryl stopped and remembered she had food from her grocery run.
Humming a little nonsensical tune, she now stood in the kitchen of the guest house prepping to cook a veggie omelet from the groceries she’d gotten yesterday. Humming filled the kitchen space. Her mother had always said that was one thing she’d gotten from her, a great singing voice. Daryl’s mother had been a performer before falling for her dad during a whirlwind romance in Atlanta. It didn’t take her mother more than a few years of marriage and a baby to realize she wanted more out of life than a poor tinkering inventor could give her.
So, her mother left her father and moved back home to Dallas, Texas when she was barely three. The sting of anger for taking her away from her father so early sizzled in Daryl’s gut every time the slightest recollection of that memory passed. Her mother had been selfish and short sighted. They could have made it work as a family. Her father never stopped loving her mom.
The tune left her. Continuing to cut up veggies in silence, Daryl moved around the kitchen in a somber mood. The sun wasn’t fully up, but she sure was. Moving about in the state of the art kitchen, she had assembled an omelet, pouring it into her one pan on the hot plate when it happened.
“Aunt Nique! I knew you’d come. I told Charlie to get you here, and he did!” a little voice said, as small hands latched onto her thighs from behind.
“What the hell?”
Daryl stood there frozen in shock. If she’d thought the contract issues were bad, this was hella worse. Her worst nightmare was unfolding in the weirdest way. There was a little person latched onto her right now. That meant that the little person belonged to big people, and said little person believed her to be someone called Aunt Nique.
“Monique? Aren’t you glad to see me?” the child asked.
What was she supposed to do? Lie to the kid? Nah, she wasn’t glad to see it. If anything, she wanted to toss the omelet at it and take off running before she was arrested.
Moving the pan off the hot plate, she took a breath in for courage and said, “Um, hey there…” as she turned around slowly.
Little hands loosened as she made it around to look down at the cutest little boy in the cutest pajamas. He held a huge plush stuffed dragon, had the biggest green eyes she’d ever seen and looked up at her with his mouth hanging open. She stared, and he stared right back. One thing was for sure. His white parents wouldn’t have a second’s afterthought of tossing her black ass in jail for being here. Daryl had to think. There had to be a way out of here before the little guy could go get big people.
Just as she was about to try to talk her way out of this, the little guy said, “You’re not Monique. You’re brown like her, but you’re not Monique.”
All she could do was
a nod.
He continued. “Do you know Monique?”
Daryl shook her head no, too amazed at how the child was processing finding a stranger in his family’s guest house.
“It doesn’t matter. You’re beautiful… and I like you.”
“Uh, thank you?” she said, still not sure how to work this. He swung the pot belly round stuffed dragon as he waited for her to say more. “Say, who’s that?” she asked pointing to the stuffed animal.
He smiled brightly. Holding the stuffed animal up for her to get a better look, he said, “This is Charlie, my dragon. Monique gave him to me.”
“Charlie, huh? He’s a super cute dragon.” Wanting to share something in common, she said, “You know, when I was your age, I loved dragons too.”
“You did?” His eyes were so big, they almost sparkled.
“Yep, and I tried to find out everything I could about them.”
“My dad says real dragons aren’t as nice as Charlie is to me.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. All the dragons I’ve ever seen were pretty darn cool.”
“You know some dragons too?” the child asked.
“Well… not exactly. Like I said, I just used to read everything I could about them. I guess I would have loved to meet one here and there though.”
“You like dragons. I think that’s good enough for me.” He lifted his arms up and added, “May I have a hug?”
Whoever he was, his grammar was great, better than hers, that was for sure. He had charm. She had to give it to him. She did want to give the little fella a hug. Wait that could be her way out of here. Hating the thought of tricking a child, Daryl had to push back the self-disgust.
“Hey, how about this? How about I give you a hug, and you keep my being here our little secret. I was just about to leave, but I’d love to give you the biggest hug ever. How does that sound?”
He scrunched up his face and stared at her again. Shit, that couldn’t be good. She stood still watching the little boy, and she could swear he was mulling over what she said before giving an answer. How old was this kid? Maybe six? That was too young to be doing all the ninja thinking this one looked like he had going on.
Finally, the little boy stuck out his hand for a handshake. Confused and scared enough not to make any sudden moves, Daryl took it and shook.
“Good,” he said. “My name is Brock. What’s yours?”
“Um, Daryl.”
“Isn’t that a boy’s name? I have a friend at school with that name. He’s a boy, and, he’s brown like you too. I like playing with him a lot.”
What the hell was happening here?
“Okay, glad you like your friend Daryl. I’m named after my father. He was a Daryl too.”
“Wow, that’s cool. I’m not named after my dad. His name is Asher. But, I like my name too. It’s easy to spell.”
“Good to know.” Daryl had no idea how she was going to get the little boy out of here before his parents noticed he was missing. Her ongoing freedom was slipping away with each second they stood here making pleasantries. Who would have thought it would be a little kid who was her undoing?
“How old are you?” he asked.
Might as well answer. This was going to be the last conversation she had before she was put in handcuffs anyway.
“Well, you’re going to go straight there, huh? You know, with the age question?”
Brock blinked and waited, eyes holding her transfixed with their clear brilliance. He was adorable.
Summoning up the courage to keep her voice strong and steady, Daryl answered, “I’m twenty-four.”
“When’s your birthday?”
“In January,” she answered.
“That’s cool. Mine is September seventeenth. I’ll be six.”
“That’s good to know.”
“Can I have that hug now?”
There was no denying it; this little boy had focus and determination. He hadn’t agreed to her terms, had gotten a name and her age and was back to his original request. Daryl didn’t know if he was setting her up for the police to swoop in or to make friends. Deciding he couldn’t be that diabolical, she squatted down to his level, opened her arms and gave him a big hug.
Brock stepped into her embrace, latched onto her tight, and held on. She smiled when he began to rock in her arms. She joined in, allowing him to get the hug he wanted.
“You’re so soft. I really like the way you smell, Daryl,” he said.
Something deep down softened in her heart. This little fella was so sweet. There was something about him that had her wanting to stay and take care of him. And, that was a first. As an only child, Daryl had never been around siblings. As an adult, she’d had yet to get that urge to mother anyone. It was such a foreign concept to her that she found herself marveling at how this small child had reduced her to Bambi’s mother. And just like that doe, she was going down if she didn’t find a way to get out of here.
Deciding to still try to talk her way out of this, she said, “And, you smell like little boys should.” Ack, that was horrible. Try again. “Hey, I just made an omelet. Are you hungry?”
He nodded, refusing to lessen his grip on her neck. Daryl’s knees were starting to tremble, being down here in a catcher’s squat for so long.
“Brock, do you like omelets?”
He loosened his grip enough to look at her in the face, “I don’t know. You made it, to eat?”
“Yep, I sure did.”
“Okay, you’re my friend. I trust you. Let’s eat!”
Wow, talk about a punch to the gut. This child said she was his friend and he trusted her. She was tempted to find his parents her damn self!
“All right, let me up so I can finish up and get the food ready.”
He released her, giving Daryl enough room to stand back up. Big green eyes tracked her every move as she stood and shook out each of her legs.
“Thank you for the hug. I really liked it. But, I didn’t say yes to the other part.”
And like that, her bladder seized and wailed. This little thang was going to tell on her. She had to play it safe and find out what he meant before jumping to conclusions. He was a child, not a coworker or boss.
“What other part is that, Brock?” There, that sounded innocent enough.
“The part about you leaving; I don’t want you to leave. Daryl, please stay here with me. I’m going to be here for the whole summer, and I need a friend. You’re my new friend.”
Shit. That went straight to her heart. Knowing she wouldn’t be strong enough to deny him, looking him straight on, Daryl busied herself with making a new omelet. The other one was rubber now.
“That’s so kind of you to say, but I have to go. I’ve got something to do back in town.”
“Do you have to go to work like my dad? I think he goes to work too much. Do you have to go to work a lot?”
She chuckled despite herself.
“I wouldn’t say I have to go to other people’s work a lot, but I do work for myself a lot.” Eyeing the shredded cheese, she’d splurged on; she asked, “Hey Brock, do you like cheese in your omelet?”
He giggled the cutest little kid laugh as he said, “I don’t know! I don’t know what an ommy let is? I told you that, Daryl. Are you going to eat cheese in yours?”
She loved the way his eyes got even bigger with that question. And that laugh? Forget about it. If she didn’t know any better, Daryl was falling for this little kid. At this moment, truth be told, she didn’t want to leave him either. There was a vulnerability about him that made her want to fight tooth and nail to keep him safe. Hell, she was feeding him and taking a chance on wasting some of her six-dollar shredded sharp cheddar cheese that had been a luxury buy at the grocery store.
“Yes, I’m going to have cheese in mine. That’s the best way to eat an omelet.”
“Ooh! I want cheese too,” he said.
Knowing enough about kitchen safety to not cook with a little one underfoot, Daryl scooped Broc
k up and placed him in one of the kitchen bar stools before she had a chance to second think it. He giggled, liking how she’d done that.
“You sit right there. I’ll move the hot plate over here so you can watch me make your omelet. How does that sound?”
His entire face brightened as he leaned on his elbows and said, “You’re so cool!”
“Why thank you, my friend.”
“So, we are really friends now?” he asked, curiosity lacing every word.
Daryl paused to consider it. Certainty told her that she’d better not lie to him. That would be cruel.
“Yeah, I’d say we’re friends,” she finally admitted.
“Good, that means you have to stay. Friends don’t leave friends alone.”
“Well, that might not be possible, Brock. We’ll see what happens. Remember I’ve got to go away to do my work. Plus, I’m not sure what your parents would say with me being here.”
His little face scrunched, turning into a frown at what she’d said. Brock was not feeling her on this.
“What’s with that face?”
“When you say, ‘we’ll see,’ I don’t like it.”
“Why not?”
“Because it means no.”
She had to give it to him; the kid was way smarter than his years. Daryl found herself offering up a plausible reason for her stance on the topic. This kid was making her think more than she’d planned to this early in the morning.
“Sometimes it does, but sometimes it doesn’t. I really do have to see. Your parents won’t like me being here, I can assure you of that.”
“Oh, it’s just my dad, and he’s cool too. I think he would want you to stay, like me. You’re beautiful, and he really likes beautiful girls.”
Daryl had to allow the laughter to burst forth.
“And how do you know that, little man?”
“Because I’ve seen him with some when he thought I was sleep. They weren’t like you or Aunt Nique. They looked more like me,” he said, pointing to the back of his hand, “But, they were pretty too.”
