Trampolining with Dragons

by S. W. Clarke

  Erik slapped a hand over his reddening face.

  “We need a rendezvous point,” Grunt grunted. “If everything goes to shit.”

  Frank looked wide-eyed and totally out of his element. “To shit? But …”

  I set a hand on his arm to comfort his no-doubt racing heart. “Fair. What do you suggest, Grunt? You know all the Scarred hidey-holes in NYC, no doubt.”

  He made a face at me. Or maybe that was just the ogre’s resting bitch face; I still wasn’t sure. “The Singing Angel. Once you get over to the Brooklyn side, it’s an easy shot down Fulton Road with lots of tree canopies. It's also a familiar point—we all know about it—and it's easy to get to."

  I was convinced. Something told me a bar full of Others might understand the gravity of a mortal sin trying to take over the world. “Any objections?” I said.

  None were raised.

  “Then if pixie dust hits the fan,” I said, “we head to the Singing Angel.”

  The conversation went on into the morning, each of us planning our roles, the steps we’d take, how we’d execute them. Frank and I would sneak backstage before midnight and ambush Lust before she could pull off the ritual. Erik would break into the hotel’s AV room and take down the broadcast at midnight. And Grunt would be waiting with the RV as our getaway vehicle.

  Plan “Holy Guacamole” was the Singing Angel. If everything went pear-shaped, we’d head there.

  All the while, Mariana and I strategized inside my head, a strange little side conversation between me and the other half of my soul. We were sharp with each other, assertive, full of fear and hope in equal measure.

  Both our children’s lives were at stake.

  After we’d nailed down our plans, we all left the apartment. Grunt and Erik walked separate ways down the sidewalk—each had a role for tonight.

  Meanwhile, Frank and I climbed into his Beetle, the same one he’d been driving back when I’d first met him and Seleema.

  Before he turned on the car, he glanced at me with raised eyebrows. “Restless night.”

  I grinned back at him, totally unashamed. “I’d say I’m sorry for what you heard, but it would be a lie.”

  He turned the ignition and pulled us out onto the street. “I’m happy for you, Tara. Really.”

  “That I had a good romp?”

  “No.” He kept his eyes ahead. “That you’re happy with him.”

  “I’m not exactly with him.”

  “Do you trust me in matters of the heart?”

  “Well, sure.” I supposed I trusted him more than just about anyone, given what he had with Seleema.

  “Then trust me when I say this: you’re with him.”

  I shook my head, looking out the window. “Would you believe I’ve never actually been with anybody? I’m not sure what that even means.”

  “It means you think of him when you’re not together. It means you care about his welfare, like I imagine you’re doing right now.”

  Dang, he’d gotten me.

  Now I was feeling uncharacteristically shy. So I diverted the attention to his tapping fingers atop the wheel. He was nervous. “It’s going to happen tonight, Frank. You’re going to get her back.”

  He noticed me looking at his fingers; he gripped the wheel until his fingertips turned white. “I don’t know …”

  “Franklin,” I said, turning toward him, “do you trust me in matters of high-stakes combat and rescue?”

  He snorted. “That doesn’t quite flow off the tongue in the same way.”

  “You get my point.”

  He shrugged. “Well, sure. More than anyone else I know, I guess.”

  I fixed him with my most no-nonsense gaze, setting one hand on his arm. “We’re going to get her back. I promise.”

  He glanced over at me, his face a mask of worry and hope. “I believe you. That’s why I’m doing this.” He paused. “Do you have all your identifying info with you?”

  I blinked. “Now what does that mean?”

  “You know, your license, ID card, passport, whatever.”

  I just stared at him. “Don’t worry about it, Frank. I’ve got this.”

  Fifteen minutes later, we parked near the New Year’s Eve Times Square party volunteer signup area. It was a makeshift booth in the lobby of a nearby hotel, tucked away from the concierge’s desk.

  And it was packed.

  When Frank and I arrived, we just stood there and stared.

  “Are you sure this is the right place?” I said.

  “This is where the internet told me to take us.” He pointed. Sure enough, a big, block-lettered sign on the wall stated as much.

  A crowd of people with clipboards and pens milled around, some seated and some leaning against the wall as they filled out forms.

  Frank and I got in line. Up at the front, a human-sized bird with a woman’s head wore a Volunteer Leader tag on her feathered breast and a manic grin on her face. She accepted clipboards from the potential volunteers, holding them with surprising deftness between her bird’s toes.

  Frank leaned toward me. “Do you know what that Other is?”

  “The awkward pairing of a bluebird and a very drunk man?” I whispered back.

  “A gamayun. They’re from Russian lore, and they’re supposed to be full of wisdom. They also know everything about, well, everything. Gods, men, all of creation. I wonder if that’s how she’s spreading her wisdom in the GoneGod World—by leading volunteers.”

  I half-smirked, eyeing the gamayun. One constant I’d observed in most Others I’d met: they took what they could get in this new world. “Might just be the only job she could land.” I paused. “Get it? Land?”

  Frank snorted. “I’d rather not.”

  When we arrived at the front of the line, the gamayun asked us if we could wait just a few minutes, since all the clipboards were in use.

  I smiled down at her. “This is quite the crowd you’ve got. Atypical?”

  Her blue eyes shone up at me, and she chirped, “It’s a boom year, thanks to our special guest.”

  “A special guest who also happens to be a mortal sin?”

  The birdwoman giggled, overcome by a childlike excitement over the sin who wasn’t even present. “It feels like everyone in NYC came to volunteer. It’s because Lust is going to be meeting with us before the party.”

  “Well I’ll be,” I said in my exaggerated stage voice. “Wouldn’t that be something? Frank, we’re gonna wait as long as it takes to get hold of those clipboards.” I flashed the gamayun my most charming smile. “I’ve always wanted to meet Lust.”

  A few minutes later, Frank managed to snag us two clipboards and forms for us to fill out.

  As we sat down in two of the hotel’s armchairs, I flipped through all the forms. “GoneGods, all this to volunteer for four hours?”

  Frank didn’t answer; he had put on his glasses and was studiously scribbling away. In fact, he’d already finished the first page.

  I sighed, starting in on mine. “I’ve never applied for a job I wasn’t paid for,” I groused. I got through a few lines before I slapped my clipboard on my knee, jarring Frank out of his focus. “I don’t have a home address,” I said.

  He eyed me overtop his glasses. “Give them the apartment we’re staying at.”

  He hadn’t gone back to work for ten seconds before I groaned. “They want my social security number. I don’t have a social security number!”

  Frank stared at me this time. “Just give me the clipboard.”

  I did so without a moment’s hesitation. I knew Frank could fill out his forms and mine before I could even finish. In the meantime, I sized up the crowd. Nobody else raised any alarms—maybe the others were really just Lust fans, and we were the only ones up to no good.

  When we were done, Frank and I brought our clipboards back to the volunteer leader. She accepted them with her talons, thanked us and set them aside in a mounting pile.

  The only problem: there were two piles. One was to her
left, and one was to her right. The left pile—where she’d placed our clipboards—was much, much larger than the right pile.

  I had a suspicion we had been rejected.

  I cleared my throat. “So are we accepted?”

  She gave me a close-lipped smile. Then, “We’ll call you in a few hours if you are.”

  I set my hip against the booth, calling forth my most charming smile once again. “You know, it’s always been my dream to meet Lust. I’d really appreciate it if you could move our clipboards to the right pile.”

  Her smile vanished as fast as an ice cream cone on a hot day. “There is no ‘right’ pile.”

  I pointed. “That pile’s on your right.”

  Frank set a hand on my shoulder. “Let’s go, Tara. They’ll call us later.”

  The gamayun looked surprised I’d even noticed. “Ma’am, there’s no difference where I stack the clipboards.”

  I gave her a knowing look. “Oh, but isn’t there?”

  She was speechless, sitting back in her chair, blue feathers ruffling. “What do you want me to say? I’m sorry, but we’re all full on volunteers. We filled up in the first twenty minutes.”

  I lowered my chin, fixing her with my most captivating stare. I channeled my inner-Lust. “Trust me, you want us on your staff. You know you do.”

  She raised her eyebrows, chin lowering in a swift, birdlike motion. “And why is that?”

  “Because”—I gestured between me and Frank—“he’s a New Yorker, and I’m Tara Drake.”

  “Tara Drake?” she said, uncomprehending.

  I sighed. Without Percy I was basically just a total hack. I was like Ringo Starr without the other Beatles. Like the former drummer of any band before they got big.

  So I resorted to Plan B.

  “Now listen.” I grabbed our clipboards and transferred them over to the other pile before she could stop me. When I set them down, I leaned toward her in a whisper. “We need to staff this event because … my boyfriend here has stage four testicular cancer, and he’s always wanted to meet Lust. Please.”

  “What?” Frank said, alarmed.

  The gamayun’s face had already softened, tears rising to her eyes. She gave a little coo. “Oh my goodness.” She shook her head, glancing over at Frank. “Your poor balls.”

  Chapter 5

  An hour later, we stood in a corner of the lobby with our volunteer shirts in hand.

  “Why’d it have to be testicular cancer?” Frank groused as he pulled on his shirt. It was bright red with fireworks on the front and Event Staff written in white letters on the back. “I mean, you could have said anything else. You could have just said cancer.”

  I pulled my own shirt over my head. “That detail was crucial. It was specific enough that I couldn’t have been lying.”

  “But you were.”

  “Is it a lie if I don’t know the truth?” I slipped my braid out of the shirt’s neckhole. “For all I know you could have testicular cancer.”

  “I don’t,” Frank said without an ounce of humor. “I just had my last physical three months ago. I’m in perfect health.”

  I angled around in my chair, taking in Times Square through the floor-to-ceiling windows. “Just think, Frank. In eight hours it’ll all come to a head.” I pointed out into the busy, colorful street; at the center of it, a large stage was being constructed, the enormous New Year’s ball being lifted high into the air. “She’s going to be standing right there.”

  Frank came to stand next to me, looking out. “I don’t know if I can wait eight hours. It feels like Seleema’s been gone for years.”

  I glanced up at him; I felt the same way about Percy. If there was ever any question about whether we loved them, it would have been answered just then.

  My watch vibrated, and I touched a button before lifting my wrist to my mouth. “Hey.”

  “What’s the situation?” Erik said from the other side.

  “We’re good.”

  “You are the sweet-talking queen.”

  I half-smirked as I eyed Frank in my periphery. “You could say that.” Then, “How are things on your end?”

  I knew Erik wasn’t allowed to talk about being on any sort of mission to defeat Lust. He was supposed to be here gathering intel—because the World Army didn’t believe this was Lust’s checkmate.

  They thought she had something bigger planned.

  And they were wrong.

  “Good,” he said. “I’ve found myself a spot where I can see everything. Even you, Miss Red Shirt.”

  I spun around, surveying the buildings up and down the street. I had no idea which one Erik was watching me from. “You’re only building your case as a stalker.”

  “Am I still a stalker if you invited me into your bedroom last night?”

  Frank coughed beside me, pretending to be engrossed by the sheet of instructions he’d been given to do his job as an usher.

  I rolled my eyes. “Not appropriate conversation for this line, Corporal.” I paused. “What about Grunt?”

  “He’s off doing his Scarred thing. I haven’t heard from him this morning.”

  Grunt had been fairly cryptic about his plans, only telling us he was gathering intel on Lust’s whereabouts today. All I knew was I trusted the ogre, and I knew he wanted Lust dead for her part in Valdis’s passing.

  That was enough for me.

  Nearby, the volunteer leader was chirping for all the volunteers to gather into a huddle. I hoped there wouldn’t be any jazz hands involved.

  I stood, wrist still lifted to my face. “Frank and I have to get to work.”

  “Call me when you can.”

  “Will do.”

  I ended the connection and threw an arm around Frank, pulling him along toward the huddle. “Come on, boyfriend. Be careful of pinching those tender testicles.”

  Frank sighed as we came to stand amongst the group. “They don’t get pinched just from walking.”

  “Hello, volunteers!” the gamayun sang. “You’ve all now received your assignments and instructions for how to do your jobs. We’ve got close to a hundred thousand people gathering in Times Square tonight, so we’ll need all hands on deck tonight.”

  I nodded along, pulling out the folded instruction sheet I hadn’t even glanced at. I was an usher, just like Frank. My job was to verify people’s tickets and give them a wristband. But more importantly, my job meant I’d have complete freedom to go just about wherever I wanted during the party. That red t-shirt meant no one would question me.

  I tuned back into the volunteer leader’s speech when everyone began whispering in excitement.

  She flapped her wings for silence. “Yes, that’s right. We’ll be allowed in to meet a special winged guest before the party begins. And …” Her eyes lit with anticipation. “If he’s in a good mood, we may even be able to pet the dragon.”

  Gasps sounded all around.

  My body went rigid, the paper crinkling in my hand.

  Frank set his fingers on my forearm. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. We both knew who that dragon was.

  Percy. She’d brought him after all.

  Lust had brought him right here to Times Square.

  We volunteers were led like children on a field trip through the hotel, the volunteer leader hopping along and sometimes waving with both wings to keep us all on track. As we passed a certain door marked Staff Only, she pointed at it with one sharp talon. “This is our exclusive route backstage for tonight’s event. It’s how we staff keep everything running smoothly.”

  Frank and I met eyes, and I tucked that information away for later. A direct route backstage was exactly the kind of thing an opportunistic imposter could take advantage of.

  On we went, deep into the bowels of the hotel, turning corners and descending staircases. Around us, the group of volunteers nearly buzzed with excitement. They were thrilled by Lust, by her dragon—and would probably be just as thrilled to be enslaved by her.

  One ups
ide: this group of humans and Others was getting along. That was something.

  I leaned toward Frank as we walked through the maze. “This is ridiculous. Where could they possibly be keeping him?”

  “I haven’t got the slightest idea.” Frank turned worried eyes on me. “Tara, maybe you shouldn’t see him.”

  “Now why wouldn’t I see him?”

  He glanced down. “Your hands are fisted. And you’ve broken out into a sweat. Your armpits are both wet, and your forehead is beading.”

  I forced myself to uncurl my fingers and take a deep breath. “I’ll be fine.”

  “He’s still going to be under Lust’s spell, Tara. There’s nothing you can—”

  “You don’t think I know that, Frank?”

  The way he recoiled, it was obvious I’d turned more anger on him than he’d ever seen from me. Some of the volunteers walking ahead of us glanced back.

  I flitted a hand. “Little lover’s spat. You know.”

  Frank stopped me, and the line of volunteers began to pull away from us. The ones behind us filtered around us as he set both hands on my arms. “Tara.”

  I tried to jerk away, but he held on. “Frank. We’re going to be left behind.”

  “Promise me you won’t do anything crazy.”

  “Define crazy, and we’ll see.”

  He tilted his head like it was obvious. “No matter what you see, you won’t start bawling and yelling. You won’t rush forward and try to break him out. You’ll keep your head.”

  “He’s my child, Frank. I know you haven’t got any kids, but imagine if you saw Seleema for the first time in months.”

  “I know.” He squeezed my arms. “GoneGods, I know. I probably would go nuts. But you have to be stronger than I’d be. I know you can do it.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut. “How do you know?”

  “Because tonight, you and I both we’re going to free him. We’re going to free Seleema. We’re going to win this fight, and you’ll have Percy back. We won’t fail.”

  My eyes opened, and I saw Frank as though through frosted glass. “Do I know that?”

  “Yes. You’re the woman who survived the Soul Hunter. You resisted Lust’s allure. You raised a dragon, for GoneGods’ sake. You’re more than capable of defeating this sin.”