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I bet it will be like portals in our world, hidden in fairy rings, in forked trees over water, and in mirrors. Well, maybe not the last. The portals have existed since before the technology to make mirrors was created. So they have to be natural.
But that’s neither here nor there. At least right now. He brought me here for a reason, and I want the answers he’s offering. I want him to have the answers he’s seeking. It’s possible that my instincts are wrong about how off this situation is … but I don’t think so. “We came here for a reason, right? Let’s get to questioning.”
For a moment, it looks like he wants to argue with me, but he finally curses under his breath and starts down the main street, towing me behind him. I could break his hold easily. I choose not to for reasons I’m not about to examine.
With every step, I catch scents that are both familiar and not. A person with pale skin and freckles is roasting meat and carving it bit by bit to serve in wraps of some sort. Another, with dark brown skin and the kind of wrinkles that speak to a life well-lived, is frying vegetables and tossing them into a bowl with broth and noodles. A third with light brown skin and a bald head is shaving ice into cups for a group of small children.
We move past the food to the stalls that have people hawking everything from jewelry to textiles to bundles of herbs. The last makes me pause for a moment, but there’s no stopping Bowen’s forward momentum.
Every single person flinches when they see us. When they see him. It happens exactly the same, over and over again. The first glance of curiosity. The second to note his size. Then they see the crimson cloak and their expressions shut down. Some of them actually look terrified. Surely Bowen realizes this is not the reaction of people grateful for the Cwn Annwn’s interference.
The street ends at a large stone building that’s familiar from the trip I made to Europe after graduation. The memory is a smear of alcohol, sex, and grief, but even in the midst of that, I remember the churches. This isn’t the largest I’ve seen—its size is on par with the rest of the buildings along the main street—but it’s certainly got all the details. Right down to the gargoyles perched on the corners, looking down disapprovingly.
“What gods do they worship here?”
“A large variety. Just like every other island.” Bowen pushes through the doors as if he’s been here before. Inside it’s even more beautiful than the outside. The multicolored glass paints the floor in abstract art that shifts with the clouds overhead. The benches are not the most ornate I’ve seen, and the pulpit is plain wood, but there’s a vibe in here that speaks of history. Of power. I don’t fuck with organized religion, but as Bunny used to say, it’s foolish not to know all the varied kinds of beliefs and magics.
Especially since some of them would like to see us six feet in the ground.
I don’t get a chance to soak up the atmosphere, though. Bowen isn’t hurting me. He’s certainly not dragging me along behind him. But his pace discourages lingering, and if I stop, I’m not entirely certain he’d notice for a few steps.
A man steps out from the door near the back of the building. He’s short and slight, his skin a cool dark brown. I expect him to call for help. It’s what I would do if an angry-looking Bowen was bearing down on me.
This stranger does the same sequence of glancing, realization, and fear that everyone else has so far. The only difference is that his fear melts away instantly, replaces by derision. “A visitor. How lovely.”
Bowen stops roughly ten feet away. He doesn’t drop my hand, though. When he speaks, his tone is perfectly even and respectful. As if he doesn’t care that he’s obviously not welcome here. “We were called here to remove a dragon that had been plaguing your shores. I would like to talk to the person who reported it. We’ve had a bit of issue dealing with the beast, and any information you can impart would be incredibly valuable.”
The man shakes his head sharply. “You came for nothing, then. No one in town reported anything to that Council of yours.”
Bowen’s hand spasms around my wrist, and it surprises me enough that I make a small noise. He releases me instantly, but he doesn’t take his gaze from the man. “That’s impossible. I saw the report myself. I was told that several of your young people had been killed.”
“That part’s true enough.” The man looks away, some of his fury dissipating into sadness. “Several of our young people took it upon themselves to encroach on the dragon’s territory despite our warnings. We knew she was breeding, and temperamental as a result. One does not get between a mother and her young.”
I could cut the tension in the room with a knife. I don’t know if this man is the leader of the town, a priest, or something else altogether, but he obviously dislikes Bowen as much as the rest of them. I step forward, drawing his attention. “I’m Evelyn.”
For a moment, I think he’ll just demand we get out, but he finally relents. “I’m Elijah.”
“Bowen.” Bowen looks at me. There’s no victory in his eyes, just sympathy as if delivering bad news. He thinks he’s right and that it will change my mind, but he takes no pleasure in it. “The dragon killed several people, just like the report said.”
“I can confidently say that none of my people made this report you speak of. I don’t know how your Council came by this information, but it wasn’t through official means.” Elijah crosses his arms over his chest. “It’s not often that dragons come to our shores to nest, but it happens every generation or so. It’s a gift to be alive when it happens. There’s a spot on the cliffs that allows a view of the beach from a safe distance. The people on this island have been gathering there for as long as the dragons have been coming. Or did you think that our village’s population is enough to generate the crowd outside?”
Now that he mentions it, there were a lot of people for a town small enough to be termed a village. “So it’s an event.”
Bowen tenses. “People died.”
“Yes.” Elijah sighs. “Every generation, some of our people are foolish and trespass where they shouldn’t instead of sticking to the safety of the cliff view. I won’t say they earned their fate, because death is a terrible consequence for foolishness, but I hardly think the creature should be punished for human error.”
I watch Bowen closely. I won’t pretend I know him well, but even I can see the conflict passing over his face. This isn’t what he expected. Considering how he and the rest of the Cwn Annwn talk, it isn’t what I expected, either.
After all, we have monster hunters in my realm, too. Most humans would rather kill the monster in question than wonder if maybe the fault is held by all. It’s true that there are monsters who specifically target humans, but this isn’t the same. This is like provoking a mother bear after she’s just had a cub. Tragic as the loss of life is, it’s not that unexpected.
“But the report …”
Elijah cuts him off with a wave of his hand. “There was no report as far as I’m concerned. Leave the dragon alone. Within a month, she’ll return to her home realm with her youngling. Our people will steer clear of the western beach until then, so there should be no further incident.”
This time, it’s me who reaches out and takes Bowen’s hand.
Elijah pauses without turning back. “I understand what the Cwn Annwn claim to be doing with their hunts, but most of the time all you’re accomplishing is compounding a tragedy into something catastrophic. No one should be punished for protecting their child, regardless of whether humans consider them to be monsters or not. It’s what any of us would do in her situation. Murdering her and leaving her child motherless is not the answer.” He finally turns to look over his shoulder at us, his expression severe. “Or would you kill the child as well for the sin of being born?”
