Chapter Sixteen
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Jac couldn’t pinpoint why, but tonight’s crowd felt different from the other night. The women weren’t ordering as many drinks, and they looked a little older—leaning more towards their sixties rather than a mix of old and young—but those reasons weren’t why.
Maybe it’s me. She’d changed over the past few days because she saw the world differently. What was once a setting made up of absolutes—good or bad, wrong or right, human or nonhuman—was now a pallet of grays. Not because those opposing things had disappeared, but because she couldn’t clearly distinguish between them anymore. Dash was a dragon, ghosts were real, and unicorns weren’t magical, rainbow-farting vessels of joy.
Of course, the mere fact that gods existed was enough to place reality on its head. Because if they were real, then why did they allow so many people to suffer? Why were there wars, disease, and famine? Why were precious animals, like she had at her sanctuary, discarded or ignored?
Before, it had all made sense—even if the reason was heartbreaking: the world was simply filled with bad people who just didn’t care about anything but themselves. But now, in this new reality where divine beings with powers existed, the darkness in the world felt unfixable. Simply put, the world was meant to be a messed-up place. Otherwise, the gods would have fixed it. Right?
Or, maybe, it’s all a test. Some giant obstacle course us humans have to run through. But was there a prize at the end for being the nicest, kindest, or smartest? A real heaven where life was perfect and beautiful?
She’d love to believe there was, but she hadn’t witnessed one redeeming, gracious, or sane trait in Cimil. Honestly, if that crazy woman was divine, then the realm of divinity had to be crazy, too.
So then what was the point to all this…this chaos?
Maybe there isn’t one. Maybe life was one big mess, and you had to make the most of it regardless of what came next. At least she was happy with her place in the world. She knew who she was.
As the orders rolled in, Jac put her focus on getting drinks out—lots of Fireball whiskey requests. As the second act, Phillipe, wrapped up his sexy chef routine, Jac’s stomach began acting up. Cramping, twisting, and nausea. It must’ve been her lunch—leftover Chinese food from last week. Or maybe it was that sour milk she’d accidentally chugged from the carton this morning.
“Oh, wow.” She braced herself on the bar, a wave of cramping hitting her. No, no, no. I can’t be sick tonight of all nights . She was supposed to talk to Dash after the show.
She grabbed some antacids from her purse and popped two into her mouth. Then she looked at her watch, wondering how long she’d have to hang in here.
Maybe it’ll pass .
Phillipe exited the stage with a modest amount of tips, but instead of Dash coming out immediately, Cimil’s voice came over the speakers. “Guests, welcome to tonight’s special performance. Our next act, Dash and Heebie, are warming up for you as we speak, preparing to give you their all.”
The women yelled enthusiastically, catcalling, and screaming out the weirdest stuff:
“Come on my face, baby!”
“Bring that daddy power to mamma!”
Jac arched a brow. A little much, ladies. Suddenly, Cimil appeared out of nowhere at the end of the bar.
“Jesus. Don’t you people know how to arrive normally to a room?” Jac snapped, feeling especially grumpy because of her stomach.
“I need you backstage.”
Suddenly, Jac’s stomach cramped harder. She groaned and wrapped her arm around her midriff. “I think I ate something bad. I should probably go home—let one of the servers take over.”
“I said I need you backstage,” Cimil growled.
“Cimil, I’m not feeling well—”
“You know my name?” Cimil narrowed her turquoise eyes. “Who told you? Was it that pesky tailor?”
“Hello, Cimil,” said a deep voice.
Jac looked up to find that Damien Greystone man standing next to Cimil. How did he appear out of thin air, too? Was he a wizard?
“You!” Cimil shook a finger at Damien. “We had a deal. You’d better get that dragon to shift and put out, or Sky’s chances are over.”
“She doesn’t want another body.” He crossed his arms over his chest.
Body? Jac thought. Was this the “favor” he needed for his friend?
“Heya. You got anything to drink?”
Jac turned her head. Standing at the other end of the bar, opposite of Damien, was a man with the most incredible, silky long brown hair and olive skin. His eyes were the same turquoise color as Cimil’s and this Damien guy’s, and he had to be at least seven feet tall.
“Belch.” Damien nodded at the man.
“Well, don’t just stand there staring,” said Cimil to Jac. “Give my brother a pitcher, girl.”
Jac sensed a tension between these three and wanted nothing to do with it. She quickly emptied a bottle of tequila into a beer pitcher and slid it toward the seven-foot-tall god. Because that was what he had to be if Cimil was his sister, right? Gods. Two of them! Right here!
Belch emptied the pitcher in one gulp and then let out a loud burp. He eyed his empty pitcher with disappointment and then gave Jac an expectant look.
He wanted more?
“Belch,” Cimil said, “can you take over the bar for a few minutes? I need Jac backstage. Our star is having a little stage fright and needs coaxing.”
Without hesitation, Belch jumped over the counter and went for another bottle of tequila, not bothering with the pitcher this time.
Jac shook her head. They’re all crazy.
“You! Come with me.” Cimil pointed at Jac.
“Cimil, leave her out of this,” Damien snarled. “Your scheme is up, anyway. Votan knows you plan to build an army to provoke a war.”
Cimil kept her eyes locked on Jac, ignoring Damien. “Do you want your lovely Dash’s life to end tonight?”
“Don’t do it,” Damien warned Jac. “She’ll only ensnare you in some diabolical plot you won’t be able to get out of. Next thing you know, your shop will be infested with blood-sucking squatters, and your scotch collection will be covered in vaginal fluids. Trust me. I know.”
Jac grimaced. Huh?
Meanwhile the Belch guy proceeded to guzzle another bottle.
“That’s the bar cleaner,” Jac said between cramps.
Belch shrugged and polished it off anyways.
Yep, we live in their asylum .
“Last chance.” Cimil made a slicing motion with her finger across her neck.
“Fine. I’ll go.” Jac followed Cimil backstage, and Damien was right behind her, still arguing with Cimil. He wanted her to turn herself in. She told him to shove it up his “gorgeous, hard ass.” The three stopped right outside Dash’s dressing room.
“Now what?” Jac said.
“Our dragon refuses to shift back to his natural state and perform his manly duties,” Cimil said with a huff.
“What do you want me to do about it? He doesn’t want to make more dragons. The younger ones snack on children. The older ones dine on adults. And giraffes.”
“Everything has to eat.” Cimil swiped a dismissive hand through the air. “But he doesn’t need to make a gaggle of baby dragons. He only has to shift and then let nature take its course. He’s free to miss.”
“I-I don’t understand,” Jack said.
“You don’t have to, chicky bean. I just need you,” Cimil grabbed Jac’s shoulders, “to say yes.”
“Yes to what?” she asked.
“He will only agree to shift and complete the mating ritual if you’re part of it.”
Now she was really lost. Dash said the ritual tonight was some sort of cleansing thing. “You mean sex?” Not that she’d ever say yes, but how would that even work? Dragons were really big.
“No, silly,” Cimil said. “It’s a ritual. All you have to do is follow along with the other women.”
Suddenly, boos and death threats began pouring from the crowd in the theater.
“The dragonettes grow restless, Jac, and midnight is near. Will you or won’t you save the dragon species?” Cimil pushed.
“Those…those are dragons outside?” Damien asked.
“Yes. Hello?” Cimil rolled her eyes at him. “Don’t you know anything?”
“Apparently not, because they look like a bunch of horny old women.” Damien straightened his tie nervously.
“Fuck no. Those are dragons,” said a tiny voice.
Jac’s eyes followed the sound. On Damien’s shoulder was a lavender birdlike creature in a white, see-through toga. It had boobs!
Jac jumped back. “What the hell is that?”
“Pet.” Damien flicked the thing off him.
“It’s your pet?” Jac asked.
“No, absolutely not,” he shirked. “Everyone knows that sex fairies make terrible companions. Her name is Petra, Pet for short.”
Jac pressed one hand to the wall next to the dressing room and braced herself from a wave of stomach pain. “I think I’m going to pass out.”
Suddenly, outside, the women’s booing grew louder:
“Get off the stage!”
“We don’t want a god!”
“Put some pants on!”
Cimil walked to stage left and peeked around the curtains. She shook her head and came back. “Belch is doing the Funky Chicken.”
Damien winced. “Is there no end to the torture you gods will subject us to?”
“I don’t know. Is there?” Cimil smiled giddily and looked at Jac. “Do you want this night to get worse or better? End in tragedy or in a glorious sheen of dragon frosting covering the lands?”
“Cimil, I don’t understand.” Jac winced.
“Dash has sixty seconds to live. Yes or no? Will you do what I ask?” Cimil asked.
“Yes. Fine,” Jac snapped. Anything to make this night end and protect Dash.
“Excellent. Then go take your place among the others in the theater. Hurry now!”
Jac headed toward the curtain, taking the shortest way to the theater seating. Damien followed along and helped her into a chair near the back, where he sat beside her.
“This is chaos,” she muttered, looking around the room. The women were out of their seats, waving their arms and yelling for Cimil’s brother to leave.
The god, who only wore a pair of tight white underwear, flapped his arms like a chicken and then twisted his hips. “Are you not entertained?”
“No!” the audience yelled.
“Are you all right?” Damien asked as Jac doubled over in her chair.
“I think my appendix is rupturing, and I don’t know what’s happening.” Oh God. It hurts!
“Stay calm. It is the way of Cimil,” Damien reassured her.
“Calm? She just said that Dash is going to die.”
“She always does this. She creates a crisis and then magically resolves it in the last second.”
That didn’t explain her pain. “I need to go to a hospital.”
Jac looked up to see Cimil dragging her brother offstage.
“You’re welcome, lizard hags!” Belch grabbed his crotch and then disappeared.
Suddenly, the lights went out, and a spotlight appeared at the center of the curtains. Loud techno music with pumping bass flooded the theater.
Boom.
Boom.
Booooom.
Boom.
Boom.
Booooom.
Jac’s pain began traveling down. Her breathing became more hurried. Oh no. I think I have to go to the bathroom . She was just about to run for it when Dash burst through the curtains.
The women went insane, clawing at the air and screaming:
“Rarrr…mamma like!”
“I want some o’ that!”
“Take it off, big man!”
Completely unfazed, Dash strutted down the catwalk in his boots, jeans, and tool belt, making suggestive moves. He didn’t look afraid or worried at all.
Strange, given how a deranged goddess almost ended his life seconds ago. In fact, he was positively glowing.
Jac watched in awe as he slowly removed his belt. Then came the jeans.
The women cried out, their eyes wide. Jac couldn’t believe it. They were all getting nude, too.
Is this some satanic cult?
Dash stopped at the end of the runway and then locked eyes with her. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say there was a hint of anguish in his blue eyes.
Completely naked now, the women began squatting and groaning.
“Now there’s something you do not see every day.” Damien laughed.
“Oh. I’ve read about this!” That tiny bird thing was back, jumping up and down on the café table in front of them.
Jac felt her stomach bear down. “Oh god!”
Damien’s eyes traveled toward her crotch. “Jac? What’s inside your jeans?”
She looked down, too, spotting a large lump. Oh shit. She pushed her hand inside her jeans and felt something round, smooth, and warm between her legs.
What. The hell! She pulled it out and held it in front of her face. It was a blue egg.
“Oh god!” She threw it in terror, wanting to get the thing away from her.
That Pet creature went after it and caught the egg in midair with a big hug.
“Wow. So you’re a dragon.” Damien bobbed his head. “Unexpected.”
“What? No, I’m not.” Jac got to her feet, stumbling back.
“That’s a dragon egg.” He pointed at the thing in Pet’s tiny arms. She was licking it.
Jac looked around the room. The other women were holding eggs in the air. Blue, purple, red, and green.
I’m going to be sick! What is this?
Her eyes gravitated back to Dash, who pulled off his thong with an angry look. The women held up their eggs and yelled with delight at his naked form. Jac was too terrified to appreciate the enormous penis hanging between Dash’s legs, but the other women were elated.
“Yes! Come out and play, dragon!”
“Give us your juice!” one yelled.
Dash snapped his fingers, and Heebie entered stage right, wearing earmuffs. He stopped in front of Dash and looked directly at Pet, who still held Jac’s egg.
Ohmygod. Ohmygod. What’s going on?
Heebie threw off his muffs, took a huge breath, and then closed his mouth and pushed, almost like he was inflating himself.
Right before Jac’s eyes, Heebie’s fur fell off like a suit, and a small winged lizard appeared.
Jac gasped. Heebie was the dragon?
The women stilled, just as shocked as she was that the little furball wasn’t what he seemed.
The tiny beast fluttered toward Pet, who giggled and offered him the egg.
“I think we should go now,” said Damien. “If I know one thing about dragons, this place is about to get messy. Come. Hurry.” Damien helped Jac up and walked her toward the exit.
Jac glanced over her shoulder, catching a glimpse of something she wished she could unsee.
Jesus, it’s like a firehose of—
“Hurry. Now.” Damien dragged her outside.