by S. W. Clarke
All at once, the razor-sharp talon surged out, gripping the outer edge of the shell. It pulled the shell inward, buckling it. A whole piece cracked, and I peered into the hole that had formed.
From inside, a golden eye opened. It looked back at me. And then the creature inside made its first noise. It sounded like an uncertain bird’s chirp. The dragon didn’t otherwise move.
I knew a little bit about hatching a bird from an egg. You were supposed to let them do the work, to escape themselves so that they could build up the strength and discipline they needed.
Was hatching a dragon like hatching a bird? Nothing in books or the internet had been of any help. All humans wrote about was dragons and gold, dragons and fire, dragons and their massive wings.
They never talked about baby dragons.
I didn’t want to get this wrong. I scooted forward. “You can do it.”
The golden eye blinked, gazing up at me. Another small chirp sounded, and my heart expanded.
I set a finger to the shell, tapping it. “You need to break this. Break it with your claws and your teeth.” Then I mimed snapping and clawing in the air.
The little dragon watched me the whole while. Whether he understood or operated on instinct after that, I couldn’t say. But he did start working away at the shell. Bit by bit, he plunged his tiny talons into the ever-growing hole, pulling shards of it away. Finally his teeth emerged, and so did his nose.
He had beautiful blue scales, each as small and pristine as a baby’s fingernail. He was perfect.
When he’d grown the hole large enough to get both front legs out, he yanked himself forward, cracking the whole shell and slipping out onto the floor of the pizzeria. His wings were almost translucent and pulled tight to his body, and he didn’t have the balance yet to walk.
I sat cross-legged, reaching out one hand slowly, slowly. “Hello, little egg. I’m here to help you.”
When I touched the miniature spine at the base of his neck, he looked up at me, blinked those golden eyes again. For the longest time he seemed to stare at me, taking in every part of me.
And then he tried to stand.
He tried three times, and on the third time he managed to get his legs under him by extending his small wings. He couldn’t have been bigger than a kitten, his wing bones so breakable I was afraid to go near them.
“Well done,” I whispered. “You are very majestic.”
He raised his head on his neck, gave another chirp. I wondered if those were the only noises he would ever make; dragons spoke in books and movies, but this was the real world, and I had never seen a dragon before.
He took a step closer, then another. When I sensed he was trying to come to me, I reached out both hands. He came close, set one tentative foot on my crossed leg. Asking permission.
“Come on, little egg.” I enclosed him with my hands, bringing him into my lap. And he curled up there, the two of us sharing warmth for the first time. I ran a finger over his neck. His scales, smooth as glass, gleamed like blue gems. “I can’t very well call you ‘little egg’ anymore, can I? You’re separate from it now.”
He vibrated in my lap like a cat as I ran my fingers over his back. And as I sat in the kitchen, my eyes lifted. There, on the wall, was a portrait of the employee of the month. He was a sixteen-year-old with red hair and acne who worked at a pizza joint in the middle of nowhere.
And yet he had so much majesty in his green eyes. He was infinitely proud, because his parents had given him a knight’s name and raised him to love himself.
His name was Percival.
When my memory ended, Mariana and I were left staring at each other in the simple room of my mind’s eye.
“Do you understand now?” I asked her.
She removed her hand from my grip. “I do.” She paused. “Both of our children’s lives are of equal value.”
I let out a breath. She knew now why I loved Percy so much, and I saw Ariadne in a way I hadn’t before. “Yes, they are.”
“Well, Patience Schweinsteiger,” she said to me, “I suppose that settles things, doesn’t it?”
In the RV, I nodded. I was alone again, but now I had a peace in my chest I hadn’t felt before. Mariana and I were in agreement.
It was time to save her daughter and my son.
I had to return to the apartment for two reasons: to get dressed for the VIP party, and because Frank had told me I had special guests waiting. I couldn’t imagine one person who would come to see me right now, much less multiple.
But when I walked into the apartment, I stopped dead in the doorway.
There on the couch sat seven gnomes. Frank had given them all glasses of orange juice, and they were watching TV in their ninja robes. Grunt looked aggrieved from where he sat in the armchair.
I dropped the keys onto the side table. “Well rustle me up a peach tree.”
All seven little heads turned, and then my ankles were being mobbed—or hugged, one of the two—by the lot of them. Well, all except for Ferris, who remained seated where he was.
Frank came out of the bedroom in a tuxedo. “Oh.” He surveyed the scene. “Do you uh … need help?”
I waved him off as I patted one of the ninja’s heads. “Nah. Not my first time in close quarters with tiny ninjas.”
When the greetings had finished, I dropped onto the arm of the couch and blew out a breath as the others went back to watching TV. And I’ll be GoneGodDamned if they weren’t watching PJ Masks.
Ferris, my manager, stood with crossed arms in front of me. “Been a while, Tara.” He glanced at the bottle in my hand. “Is that the urine we spoke of?”
I extended it to him. “Fresh from the source.”
He took it with both hands, turning the bottle over until it frothed—blech. But he always had been fascinated by dragons. “This should do the trick.”
I sat forward. “I can’t believe you’re here. I thought you were in Detroit.” GoneGods, however he’d gotten here, I was relieved. He was exactly the person I needed right now.
“I was.” He went on examining the bottle. “But I couldn’t miss the biggest party of the year, could I?”
I smirked. “You missed me.”
“I did not.” He handed the bottle back to me. “But I knew if I didn’t come, you’d give me more trouble than you are already.”
I set the urine down. “I hope you and the others brought your fancy clothes. We’ve got a dinner to infiltrate. Percy will be there.”
He eyed me, unimpressed. “You actually doubted me? I always come prepared.” He pulled out a diagram of the hotel Frank and I had been inside earlier that day, where the VIP dinner would apparently be held tonight. “We’ve studied the layout of the place, and your ogre has informed me where Percival is being kept.”
Grunt and I met eyes. “And,” he said, “I’ve been in contact with the Scarred in NYC. They’ve confirmed that Lust won’t be at the dinner.”
My eyebrows rose. “Still can’t believe people are spending $10,000 dollars on a dinner and Lust isn’t showing.”
“To meet Lust,” Grunt said, “you pay $100,000. She’ll be off meeting dozens of the most powerful people on the planet.”
I nearly choked on my own spit. “You mean to say she’s getting paid millions for this?”
Grunt spread his hands. “It isn’t about that. It’s about influence. You have to understand this isn’t Greed. He’s in Maui.”
So we’d get Percy and no Lust. In the end, that was an even better deal. The less I had to encounter Lust, the better.
“My mistake.” I rose, heading toward the bathroom. “Well, great. It’s time to shower down and doll up, ninjas. We’ve got T-minus two hours until Frank and I have to look like we spend money like water.”
By the time I’d finished getting ready, I had already had an entire conversation with Erik on the phone. We’d gone back and forth about what he could and couldn’t do to get us in, and in the end, he’d agreed to one thing:
; He would use a World Army computer to hack into the guest list and add two fictitious names. Then Frank and I would become automatic guests.
I had plans for Ferris and the ninjas, but when I came out of the bedroom in my evening dress, Ferris raised a hand. “We’re ninjas. Trust me, we’ll find our own way in. Make a scene and give you time, right?”
I smiled. “Right.”
He flicked a finger up and down my ensemble. “You need heels.”
I groaned, glanced down at my boots. “I was hoping no one would notice.”
A mischievous look came over Ferris’s face. “You remember what you did to Grunt that time in the alley? With the kitten heels?”
“Do I?” I kicked off my boots. “All right, Ferris wheel, you’ve sold me. I’ll get the heels, you get the steel tips.”
Meanwhile, Frank sat at the living room table with one leg over the other knee, still in his tuxedo. “Do I want to know about what you did to Grunt in the alley with the kitten heels?”
I eyed his groin. “No, you don’t.”
He got the message; his hands flew to gird his loins. “I don’t know if I can be the guy you need me to be.”
“And what guy do I need you to be?”
“The kind of guy who can punch someone in the face without breaking a knuckle and then crying like a baby.”
I crossed to him, hooked my arm through his so that he stood up. “Franklin Stubemeyer, it’s not me who needs you to be that guy. It’s Seleema.”
That did the trick. He set his jaw, jutted out his elbow with my arm slipped through it, stood up straighter and nodded.
Ferris went around passing out earpieces. “We’ll communicate through these. Grunt, you’re kitchen staff. See if you can find Lust and keep an eye on her. The ninjas and I will do our part. Tara, Frank, you have your roles. Understood?”
Grunt glanced at me with the obvious question on his face: Since when does this gnome run the show?
I just smiled. “Understood.”
Chapter 9
When Frank and I walked up the fancy red carpet with its velvet ropes lining the sides, he was already sweating. Our moment of truth had come.
Had Erik come through, or would we be unceremoniously ejected?
He’d claimed he had done it. We even had names to give.
We came up to a pink-haired woman with a tablet and a red heart lapel over her dress. Her pink eyebrows rose as she glanced between the two of us. “This is the exclusive line for Lust and her Dragon.”
That witch had stolen my show. Shoulda had it copyrighted.
“That’s what we’re here for.” I flashed her a grin. “Mr. and Mrs. Reginald Stockington.”
She pressed her finger to the tablet, began scrolling. And scrolling. And scrolling.
Finally, when I thought Frank was going to sweat through his jacket and into my dress, she said, “Ah. There you are. Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Stockington. Thank you for your immense donation.”
As she guided us past the doormen, who simultaneously pulled the hotel’s doors open for us, Frank and I exchanged a glance.
Immense donation? he mouthed.
I just shook my head. Erik’s doing.
Well, immense was better than the nose-bleed seats in the back. I’d be that much closer to the action.
When we arrived in the lobby, we were led by a pixie who spread glitter ahead of us toward one of the massive conference rooms. Inside, the lights were low, and eighteen-seater dining tables had been set up around the room.
In the center, a large area had been left clear. They had at some point installed massive bolts to the ground, and I knew exactly what those were for: Samson’s chains.
The pixie led us to a table with place cards set just for Frank and me. She waited until we were seated, and then flew off back toward the entrance. The moment my behind touched the chair, glasses of champagne were set in front of us by a waiter who’d appeared from nowhere.
Around the table sat an assortment of wealthy people, humans and Others. I was seated next to a slender, dark-haired woman who had a tendency to run her tongue over her teeth, and I wondered if she was an ex-vamp.
Meanwhile, Frank had almost immediately fallen into conversation with the pontianak—an Other with pale skin, long, lank hair and a perpetual white dress—on his right, who kept nodding in slow, creepy acknowledgment of whatever it was Frank was saying.
We were brought bread and salads, and a small four-person orchestra played doleful, Titanic-sinking music in the corner as the minutes ticked by. The whole place was filled with tables and people, all of them waiting for the greatest mythical creature of them all.
I fidgeted on my chair, waiting for Ferris’s go-ahead. The ninjas were supposed to be breaking their way into Percy’s holding room right now, and that was my best chance of using Yaroz’s pee, which I’d sequestered away in my purse.
I checked it again just to make sure none had leaked.
The ex-vamp next to me sniffed the air. “Do you smell lilacs?”
Interesting thing about dragon pee: it does indeed smell like lilacs. Or maybe that was just Yaroz and her vegan diet at the compound.
“You know, I do.” I turned in my seat, tucking away my purse. “Wonder where that lovely smell is coming from.”
“Tara,” Ferris said into my ear, “we’re in. Where are you?”
Finally. They’d been quick, but it felt like I’d been sitting in this formal chair for a year already.
I stood, touched Frank’s shoulder. “I’ll be back, dear.”
He waved a hand, still deep in conversation with the pontianak, and I struck off through the room. “Restroom?” I said to the staff by the door, who directed me out into the hallway.
When I got into the bathroom, Ferris had already said my name three times. But this was the first time I was alone. “I’m here,” I said. “Is Percy in there?”
“He’s here,” he whispered. “There’s two guards with him. We convinced them we just came in to clean up dragon dung.”
“Can you deal with them?”
“Already on it. Come to the room—and don’t be surprised if you see guards running out on your way in.”
I came out of the bathroom, turned left down the hallway toward Percy’s room. There, one of the ninjas stood in the hallway. Malfiz, the tracker, dressed like hotel staff. He was keeping watch.
He nodded for me to stand behind the door.
As promised, the door opened just as I arrived, and I stood behind it to hide myself from view.
Two human guards with wide eyes pressed their way out, hands covering their faces. “GoneGods,” one said to the other. “Did you know dragons make crap that’s toxic to humans?”
I smiled. Ferris was a genius.
The moment the two guards had their backs to the door, I slipped inside with a wink to Malfiz. There, six of the ninjas held various cleaning instruments—a shovel, a broom, a mop. And at the center of the room, still shackled, sat Percy.
He didn’t even look in my direction when I came in.
“About time.” Ferris dropped his mop. “We’ve got about a minute before the guards get suspicious. I told them we’re clearing out toxic poo.”
Percy had indeed shat on the floor. “Toxic, huh?”
He shrugged. “It worked. Humans are so protective of their health.” He threw his hands out toward Percy. “Now do the thing!”
I pulled the bottle out of my purse as I approached Percy. When I uncapped it, the scent of lilacs filled the room.
To this point, my dragon’s eyes had been lidded. Unseeing. He lay like the dead.
I crouched in front of him with the bottle’s mouth to his nose. “Perce?”
His nostrils widened, drawing in the scent of his mother’s urine. The most powerful scent in the dragon world, I hoped. For a moment, nothing seemed to happen. And then light came into Percy’s eyes, and he jerked upright. His golden eyes fixed on me, and the chains rumbled as he pulled against them. “Tara?”
I handed the bottle off to Ferris, tears hitting my eyes. “It’s me.”
Percy’s head swung around as he evaluated his situation.
“We don’t have much time.” I came closer, reaching both hands out. “Just know that I’m going to save you tonight. I’m going to come get you in Times Square, all right?”
His face whipped toward me. “Why not now?”
“These chains aren’t breakable. Not by you or me.” I stroked his face. “Only a full-grown dragon’s fire can break them. And she’s coming, Perce.”
“My birth mother is coming?”
Ferris’s hand went to my shoulder. “You have to go. Malfiz says the guards are coming back.”
I pulled Percy into a hug, whispering into his ear, “Yaroz is coming with fire. No matter what, we’re getting you out of here, little egg. Just keep pretending for a little while longer. I love you.”
Now he was crying, and Ferris was pulling me toward the back door to the room. I staggered upright, staring back at Percy, whose head swung around on his neck to watch me go.
A dragon’s tears are large, and they glisten like crystals on their scales.
It sundered my heart to see Percy cry in chains.
“I love you, too,” he said just before Ferris opened the side door and pushed me through.
As it was closing, I caught a glimpse of the main door opening. The guards had returned, and Percy had already resumed his old, unseeing posture.
“The shit’s still there,” one guard said, and that was the last I saw before the door closed on me.
I stood there, shaking, trying to find my breath. The first step was complete: we had broken Lust’s spell over my child.
When I got back to the table, Frank was still in deep conversation with the pontianak. The main course had arrived: three tiny dollops of sauces, a square of meat, and a sprig of parsley on top.
I hated these people.
Our job here was done. Much as I wanted to see Percy again, it did me no good to watch as a hundred of Lust’s wealthy patrons went up to touch his head between dinner and dessert. It would just piss me off.
