Текст книги "The Dragon's Favorite Strays"

Автор книги: Ruby Dixon

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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 26 страниц)

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CHAPTER 4

DAKOTA

I race inside the bookstore, frantic. The kitten in my hand is scratching it and crying out, but I can’t put him down. Not when he’ll be killed immediately.

Rabbit appears, a huge smile on her face. “Mom, you brought me a kitten⁠—”

“Get your things,” I say quickly, racing towards my backpack. I haven’t even had the chance to do more than unpack my bedding, but I’ll replace it some other time. Right now, all that’s important is that we get out of here, and fast. “Hurry, Rabbit.”

She doesn’t hurry, though. She just watches me as I set my crossbow down to sling the bag over my shoulder and then pick it up again. Damn, it’s hard to do everything with a squirming, scratching kitten in my other hand. “Mom? What’s going on?”

“Get your things,” I repeat again, my voice wobbling. “There’s a dragon nearby. We can’t stay here.”

Her face bleaches of color, and she immediately races away. A moment later, she reappears with her bag, mostly empty, and her knife drawn.

I’m on high alert, watching the windows for signs of an enormous shadow, of large wings and a ferocious, fanged maw.

When she races to my side, I herd her toward the back of the store. “Go into the bathroom and hide. The walls are hopefully sturdy enough to last if he starts attacking.”

“Are you coming?”

I shake my head, hefting the crossbow again. “If he comes after me, I want you to be safe.”

Her face crumples. “Mom, no⁠—”

The front door of the building slams open, and I give Rabbit the Mom Look. The one that says do not fucking argue right now. She lets the door fall shut, and I take a few steps forward, deliberately moving away from where my daughter is hidden. My heart is racing wildly, and the crossbow is getting heavier by the moment. The kitten meows again, the sound plaintive.

I set it down on the floor, needing both hands for my crossbow, and hold it at the ready. I fight back the sensation of complete and utter devastation I feel. I wanted to live here. I wanted to settle down and stop running. I wanted to relax and have a real bed and a home. This was a good place and now it’s ruined.

The kitten cries and sits in place, blinded by the gunk in its eyes. I want to pick it up again to comfort it, but the sound of someone moving through the store makes me freeze. I train my crossbow toward it, not daring to call out. Where is that damned dragon? Why hasn’t he attacked? I know he saw me come in here.

Whoever this stranger is that’s coming in, now is not the freaking time.

A stack of books falls over, and my heart jumps. Blood roars in my ears and I take a step forward, away from the kitten. Mentally, I’m calculating how fast I can refire my crossbow. The other bolts are strapped to a holster in my belt, which might cost me precious seconds. I need to⁠—

The kitten cries again.

A man steps out from the shadows, his form huge and hulking. Whatever fort he escaped from, they feed them well there. He’s enormous and powerful…and naked?

“Stay back or I’ll shoot,” I warn, my voice trembling.

He steps forward again and a stray beam of light from a hole in the ceiling falls across his skin. Golden scales glitter all over him, and the strange, spiky hair on his head is like nothing I’ve ever seen before. His eyes are an alarming shade of yellow-gold, as golden as the rest of him.

I hesitate. If he wasn’t standing in front of me, human and naked, I’d say he looks like he’s a dragon. Are there half-human half-dragon people out there suddenly? “How⁠—”

The man takes another step forward.

I fire.

The crossbow’s aim is off, or I’m shaking so hard that it’s no good. The bolt hits him in the flesh of his lower arm, and he stares at it, then tries to flick it away like I would a fly. When he turns his gaze on me again, it’s tinged with anger.

“Oh my god,” I breathe, stumbling back a step.

The stranger pushes past me and scoops the kitten up in his arms. He strokes the tiny head and cradles it against his chest, rumbling at it as if mimicking a purr.

And he shoots me a completely indignant look.

“Oh my god,” I say again, like a broken record.

The man pauses. Stares at me. Then he opens his mouth. “Owmahgad.”

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CHAPTER 5

MURR

The female is more intriguing than she should be. Even though she tried to injure me, her fear scent and the scent of the smaller female nearby tells me that she is a mother protecting her young. It is admirable, and it eases away the burning anger I feel.

My cat burrows against my chest, and I can see its eyes have been cleaned of some of the runny yellow liquids that crust it. Was she trying to help it, then? Why take it away from me? I scratch at the tiny head with my claws, watching the human female.

She says the strange words again. Is she trying to communicate in some sort of crude fashion? With sounds instead of thoughts? Is that what they have to do in this world because their telepathy is useless? “Owmagod,” I say to her again. “Owmahgod.”

Perhaps that is her name.

The female stares at me, her expression downright incredulous. Her eyes are wide and a strange blue color, which I find intriguing. Her coloring is all-over strange. Her skin is underbelly pale, without a hint of a scale pattern. Her eyes are that impressive blue, but her mane is dark, the brows framing her eyes also that peculiar dark shade.

But aren’t all humans strange? They have no battle-form. That is probably why she makes honking sounds at me.

She gibbers something, her mouth moving, and she points at something behind me.

I turn and look, but I see nothing. I comfort my kitten, stroking its ears. I am bleeding on the floor, I realize a moment later. Her stick is still in the fleshy part of my arm. It’s annoying, but I don’t want to show pain to a potential threat.

Not that this human looks like much of a threat. I have vague, distant memories of other humans. Of them screaming and shouting up at me as I flew overhead. Of them running in fear. Of charred skin and ash. They are not good memories, and I hold my kitten tighter.

She gestures behind me again, sounds burbling out of her mouth. I don’t recognize any of them, so I try again. “Ohmahgaw.”

That makes her pause. Her face scrunches and she regards me, lowering her strange weapon to the floor. She makes more sounds, her voice softer. I continue to pet my kitten, which has relaxed now that it is tucked safe against my chest. She doesn’t seem like she wants it back, which is good. I have no intention of letting her keep my little friend. Or any of my friends.

I think my name at her to introduce myself. Too late, I remember I have no telepathy, no way to let her know my identity. I frown, scratching at the kitten’s fur. It mews at me, and I wonder if all the creatures in this world are mouth-noise creatures. How do I communicate my name then? I open my mouth, trying to figure out how to make a sound that comes close. “Muuhr,” I manage. The sound doesn’t come out quite right. My name is hard to shape my mouth around, but it gets the point across. Hopefully.

Then I point at her. “Ohmahgaw.”

The female stares at me with those strange blue eyes and then taps her chest. “Dakota.”

Does she have more than one sound for herself? Or am I misunderstanding mouth noises entirely?

“Da tah,” I repeat.

She pats herself again. “Dakota.” Then she gestures at me. “Muhr?”

“Muhr,” I agree, the sound coming out easier the second time. My tongue does not want to move as quickly as hers, and the noises are bizarre to make. It pleases her though.

She takes a step toward me. “Dakota.” Patpatpat. “Muhr.” She points at me. Then, her focus goes to the kitten. “Cat?”

And she makes a mewing noise remarkably similar to the one in my arms.

Full of wonder, I hold the kitten up near her. I want to hear the sound again. The creature in my hands mews, the sound reedy and plaintive and unhappy, but she does not mimic it again. Is she talking to it or speaking another language to me? Mouth noises are so complicated. How can anyone know who is being spoken to if everyone is simply bleating sounds into the air for anyone to hear?

“Dakota,” she tries again, patting her chest once more. “Muhr. Cat.” Again she points at me, and then the kitten.

The kitten cries, the sound it makes when it is hungry, and the female mimics it again, watching me expectantly.

Aha. She knows I feed my cats, then. Is she making the hunger noises because she now wishes to be fed? It is a small, easy thing to provide meat for hungry mouths. If this female and her young are hungry, I can feed them too.

Wait here, I command her mentally and then pause. I don’t know the mouth noises for this, so I snarl at her and walk away with my kitten in my arms.

She does not follow, but as I cross the strange landscape back to my nest, I hear the sound of a door closing behind me. She is protecting her nest. I understand this. I return my kitten to its mother, pausing to scratch ears and bellies and to stroke fluffy tails. Another one of the kittens has runny eyes, and I think about how the female scrubbed at them with her clothing.

I glance down at my claws. At my bare skin. I have no soft coverings. I cannot do the same thing she did. Perhaps after I feed her, I will bring her another kitten to clean.

But first, food for all the hungry bellies.

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CHAPTER 6

DAKOTA

I just had a conversation with a dragon.

I think.

Kind of. More like he just repeated me a lot, but he petted the kitten, looked at me with interest instead of anger, and then just…left. I lower my crossbow and stare after him, but he doesn’t come back.

I lean against the door, breathing hard and not entirely sure what to make of it all. I didn’t know they could turn human in the first place. This one did, and he has a name. Muhr.

He also had a really big dick, but I’m trying to be an adult about the situation and pretend I didn’t see it. That should be the last thing I’m thinking of at the moment, but it just reminds me how alien the enemy is. He stood in front of me, bare ass naked and covered in golden, scaled skin, and clutched a kitten. Nothing about that is normal.

I…don’t know what to do now.

Instinct from the last several years of hell kicks in. No. I know what to do now. I need to take my daughter and get the fuck out of here. Find someplace else that’s safe. There will be other bookstores. There will be other places to hide.

This one’s no good for us because it already has a big, draconic occupant close by.

I compose myself and walk calmly to the back room, where Rabbit has sequestered herself. I open the door and she watches me, eyes wide and her favorite knife in her hand. No dramatics from my girl—she’s a child of the After and so she knows the crying can come later.

“I’m okay,” I tell her. “Everything’s fine, but we need to leave.”

“What happened?”

“The dragon is a man,” I say. “Or rather, he transformed into a man. He was mad that we took his cat and came to take it back.”

Her eyes go even wider. “So they do turn into men?”

“Apparently.”

“What did he look like?”

He had an enormous dong and gave me indignant looks while his weener flapped in the breeze. “He looked like a dragon that turned into a man. Let’s just go, all right?” I gesture for her to follow me out.

“Was he friendly?” She wants to know as we hurry back through the store. “Maybe he wants to be friends?”

“That wasn’t the impression I got. This is his territory and he didn’t like us touching his cats. It’s safest if we just get out of here. He’s not human even if he shows up in a human body, Rabbit.”

Rabbit nods, and a grim expression crosses her face. I know what she’s thinking now. Not even human men are safe, really. No one’s safe to be around. We can only trust each other. I know she’s thinking it, because I’m thinking the same thing. “I’ll get my pack.”

I nod, and before she can pull away entirely, I tug her in for a hug. She stiffens briefly and then collapses against me, her arms wrapping tight around me. I can feel her trembling and for a moment I hate that dragon for chasing us away from what could have been an awesome home. “I’m so sorry, Rab. The next place will be better.”

“Probably not, but it is what it is,” she says, then squeezes me tighter again. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Me too. I’m going to be seeing dragons in my nightmares.

Shoving things into my pack, I gather as much as I can comfortably carry and move quickly. It’ll mean ditching some of the unwieldier things I’ve picked up over the last few days—some plastic flower pots in the hopes of growing seeds, a few books, and a big fluffy down pillow that doesn’t smell like mildew—because we’re going to need to move fast, and moving fast means I’m going to carry Rabbit’s extra gear so she doesn’t have to sacrifice her precious things.

We meet up and I take her second pack from her, then I help her belt her heavy hiking backpack squarely on her body. “Got your weapon?”

She nods and pats her belt, where the knife is sheathed but not latched.

I smooth a lock of hair back from her worried face, wishing that I could give her a better life than this. “When we get outside, follow close to the wall of the building and go around the back. If you see a cat, don’t stop. If you see the dragon, don’t stop. No matter what. If we get separated, where do we meet up?”

“The nearest golden arches,” she says, nodding. There’s no disagreement, no protests. We’re battle-hardened at this point.

I kiss her forehead and nod. “I’ll go out first. When I signal for you, follow me out. If I don’t signal for you, stay inside until you see him fly off again, understand?”

“Love you, Mom,” she says in a trembling voice.

“I love you too, baby.” I slide a bolt into my crossbow and pull back the hammer, cocking it. Then, I push the door open and step outside.

I rush forward a few steps, my back to the wall of the building, and point my weapon, looking for dragons—human form or otherwise. The sky is clear and I see no big golden bodies lurking behind the abandoned cars scattered through the parking lot. After a moment’s hesitation, I wave for Rabbit to follow me. She emerges and catches up to me, and then we keep moving. I point at the abandoned highway overpass a few blocks away. We’ll head in that direction.

The moment we’re out from under the cover of the building’s overhang, my anxiety rises. I bite the inside of my cheek and hurry toward the next bit of shelter, a broken strip mall sign. Then, it’s a sprint to a large pear tree against the curb. So far, so good. Rabbit is two steps behind me.

We emerge from the shelter of the tree and sprint across the next parking lot. Before we can even make it halfway, a large shadow flies overhead, blotting out the sun. My stomach drops—the dragon’s back. “Run, Rabbit,” I tell my daughter, waving her back toward the tree. “Separate! I’ll distract him! I’ll⁠—”

A dead cow drops a few feet away from me with a sickening, wet thud.

I scream, dropping my weapon like an absolute idiot. The crossbow fires, the bolt skidding on the road and then smacking into the side of the dead cow’s neck. Overhead, the dragon bugles like something out of Jurassic Park. My heart pounding in terror, I scramble to pick my weapon up again.

As I do, I hear the cries of dozens of cats. They meow in a chorus, loud and strident, and emerge from all over the place, converging on us and circling with excitement. A moment later, the dragon lands and changes to human form, and the cats follow at his feet, mewing wildly with excitement as he jogs over to the freshly dead cow.

He kneels next to the dead cow and uses his claws to pull a haunch off of it, gently removing excited kittens that start climbing all over the animal. He shreds the leg, laying it open, and then sets it down for the cats to feast on. They pile onto it with excitement, a writhing pile of calicos and tabby cats.

“Jesus Christ.” I scramble to load my crossbow again as his gaze turns to me. His hands are covered in blood and I can’t stop staring at them, or the dagger-like claws that tip each finger. Even his hands are twice the size of a human one. “Stay back, Rabbit,” I call to my daughter. “Don’t let him see you!”

The dragon-man moves to the cow and rips the other leg off, slitting open the hide with his claws and peeling it back. He shreds the meat a bit like he did with the cats, and this time he doesn’t set it down for them. He holds it out to me instead.

“Owmigod,” he says, and nudges it toward me.

I stare.

“I think he’s trying to feed us, Mom,” Rabbit calls out, relief in her voice. “Like he’s feeding the kittens! He’s friendly!”

A friendly dragon.

Fuck me. What am I supposed to do with that?

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CHAPTER 7

DAKOTA

I’m shaking as the dragon-man nudges the haunch toward us again, even as the cats rub against his legs and meow wildly, excited by the smell of the meat.

I genuinely have no idea what to do now. I’ve heard rumors that some of the dragons turn into men. I’ve also heard rumors that they can read minds and will eat you if they don’t like what you’re thinking. That they mind control entire forts full of people. I don’t know what to think of all of this, only that this doesn’t feel safe for my vulnerable daughter.

“Go inside, Rabbit,” I tell her in a shaking voice. “Slowly. Don’t run. Don’t make eye contact with the dragon. Just turn around and go.”

“He’s friendly, Mom. He’s trying to feed us like the cats,” she protests. “Maybe he’s lonely.”

“We don’t need a lonely dragon, Rabbit,” I say tightly, never taking my eyes off the big, golden-scaled man holding the haunch out to me. A particularly aggressive cat meows and rubs against his leg, and he leans over to scoop it up and cuddle it against his chest. With his other hand, he still holds the haunch out to me. His eyes whirl in a variety of colors, changing from gold to a deeper shade, then back to gold again.

Rabbit giggles. “But he thinks we’re stray cats!”

“Owmigoh,” the dragon says, the sounds slow and mangled as they come from his mouth. He gestures at the meat in his hand. Then, as if sensing my mistrust, he carefully sets it down on the ground between us and backs away a few steps.

The cats immediately surge toward it.

As if he expected this, the big golden man calmly scoops up cats as they rush forward, turning them around and putting them back by the other meat. This one is for us, he’s telling me without words. He gestures at it again and crouches nearby, watching and waiting.

“He wants us to eat it,” Rabbit stage-whispers.

“I know! I know! Let me think!” My motherly instincts (such as they are) tell me to run for the hills. The survivor in me wants all that fresh red meat, though. How long has it been since we’ve had any sort of meat in our diet? Anything that hasn’t been canned sludge long past its expiration date? I swallow hard and then hesitantly take a step forward. The food is warring with the red alerts buzzing through my brain. What do we have left in our supplies if we leave now, I wonder. Two packets of oatmeal and an old plastic container of chicken bouillon. An old pack of spaghetti noodles. It won’t last us the week, and pickings in this area have been slim.

Pursing my lips, I take another step forward. When the dragon-man gives me another encouraging look and indicates the haunch again, I pick it up.

Or try to. It’s like lifting a bag of sand. “Jesus take the wheel,” I mutter, staggering under the weight.

The dragon jumps to his feet, surging toward me.

I yelp and drop the haunch, skittering backward.

He immediately stops, a look of chagrin on his face, and weirdly enough, I feel like an asshole. Like I hurt his feelings. He points at me. “Owmigoh?”

“Dakota,” I reply. “My name is Dakota, remember?”

“Do-tah,” he agrees, brightening. He picks up the food, carefully nudging away another cat, and then holds it out to me again. “Do-tah.”

“Mom, that’s you⁠—”

“I know! Thank you, Rabbit!” I’m very aware of the eager look on his face. I just…don’t know what to do with it. Eight years of absolute hell has taught me that dragons are monsters. They’ll stop at nothing to raze the earth and destroy everything in their path. They can’t be reasoned with. They just destroy. Things calmed down a year or so ago, but that doesn’t mean the dragons are gone. I don’t trust the silence, the less frequent fires. It just means they’re planning something.

But this one is trying to feed us when he could kill us without a second thought…and that makes me pause. He could have destroyed us a dozen times over in the last few minutes. My crossbow won’t do shit against a dragon. The fact that he’s seemingly friendly is a blessing…but friendly for how long?

A kitten with dirty white fur wanders forward and mews plaintively up at him. He picks it up and nuzzles it, bringing the filthy, flea-covered (yet adorable) creature to his face and cuddling it.

It’s his gentleness with the kitten that makes some of the fear in me ebb. I thought he was attacking us before but…he’d just come and snatched his kitten back. Was that all he wanted then? It wasn’t him trying to chase us off?

I rub my mouth, wondering if I’m going to regret the next few words that come out of my mouth. “Okay. We’ll try and be friends. Just be on guard, Rab. Okay?”

“On guard,” my daughter replies. “Also, I don’t mean to be rude, but do…do you think we can make him put on pants?”

“I think we’re a few conversations away from that,” I admit, my face heating up. “Just pretend like it’s nothing you haven’t seen before, all right?”

My daughter giggles like the fourteen-year-old she is. “It’s flopping around in the wind, Mom. Gonna be hard to ignore.”

“Try!” I paste a smile on my face as the dragon-man turns his gaze to me with curiosity. I know how Rabbit feels, because it’s taking everything I have not to stare at the massive hanging dick that’s incredibly prominent while he squats. I’m not here to ogle, though. If he doesn’t understand the concept of pants, well, as long as his dick remains a limp noodle, I can ignore it.

Mostly.

I touch my chest again and give him another smile. “Dakota.” I put a hand out toward him. “Murr?”

“Murr,” he agrees, scratching the kitten’s ears. He studies my face for a moment and then bares his teeth at me in what has to be a mimic of my smile. It looks incredibly unnatural and shows his fangs, but I remind myself that if he doesn’t know what pants are, it’s a safe bet he doesn’t know other human customs, like smiling.

“Hello again, Murr,” I manage, nervous. I slowly ease my pack off my shoulder and set it on the ground. “Thank you for inviting us to dinner. Okay if we cook it?”

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