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 ofJurassic 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 catsfollow 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?
CHAPTER 7
DAKOTA
I’m shakingas 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.”
