Chapter 26 The Notebook
The Notebook
Pascal
Returning to work after Ansel’s recovery was surreal. I emailed the official letter, disclosing my relationship with Ansel. The dean replied that he understood my concern, but since my partner wasn’t an AUC student, it wasn’t any of his business.
I’d had a couple of lectures, then visiting hours in the afternoon. Ansel, who had his own courses to attend, was supposed to meet me at home.
When I spotted him on the green in front of the department, waiting for me, I could barely contain my joy enough not to whoop. I’d missed him horribly. How would I cope being away from my omega for hours every damned day?
I scooped him up into my arms and kissed him. He giggled, squirming.
“What are the university policies on professors and PDA on campus?”
“No idea. Don’t care.” I hid my face in his neck and breathed him in. “Not that I’m complaining, but what are you doing here?”
“We finished early, and I missed you.”
“Well, thank heavens. I was going crazy without you. The dragon still insists you shouldn’t be out of my sight. This will take some getting used to.”
“I have an idea what we could do during the weekend. It could be something to look forward to.”
I threw my arm around Ansel’s shoulders, and we wandered toward the parking lot.
“As long as it involves being together twenty-four-seven and lots of naked time, I’m in.”
“Um. I’m not sure about the naked time because it’s going to be cold. But sex, definitely.”
“Oh?”
“I’d like to go to the cabin. The weather is supposed to be nice, so maybe we could even fly again?” He said it carefully, as if unsure what my reaction would be.
“I’d love to. Let’s do it. After sundown, we can go flying over the range and on Saturday, we could do a hike.”
Ansel beamed up at me. “Awesome.”
He looked adorable, all blushing and excited. I leaned down for a quick kiss.
As I was pulling my car keys out of my bag, Ansel made a startled sound.
I looked up. “What?”
“That guy there seems to be shooting daggers at me. Do you know him?”
I glanced at where Ansel had been looking only to find Jason Jacobson scowling at us from the edge of the campus parking lot.
“That’s one of my students.”
“What’s his problem? Have you let him fail?”
“No. He, um, hit on me once, and I told him no.”
Ansel snickered. “That would do it.”
I opened the car door for him, and Ansel fluidly slid inside. I walked around the vehicle and joined him.
“I figure the rumor mill will now start rolling,” I said as I started the engine. “Good thing I emailed the dean earlier.”
“Probably. Better safe than sorry.”
“And how was your day, my omega?”
“Long. Boring.”
“Oh?”
“Are you going to make it better?”
“Can I? How?”
“How about when we get home, first thing you do is push me up against the closed door and fuck me?”
I laughed. “I think I can manage that.”
I stepped on the gas, keeping the speed slightly above the limit.
When we arrived at the turning point below Ansel’s cabin on Friday afternoon, strong wind swooshed through the forest, bending branches and setting leaves aflutter.
It was supposed to calm down before nightfall.
Yes, this time, I’d checked the weather prognosis properly.
Ansel’s car had been towed a few days ago; only broken branches and tracks in the mud remained.
We took our bags and set out on the trek to the cabin. The largest was the duffel containing a harness for flying that Hugo had lent us. Now that I wasn’t limping, the trip was quick and easy, even with the extra gear.
“You’re sure we’ll be able to fly up tonight?” Ansel asked as we passed the lake. The strong breeze dragged his hood off his head.
“If not tonight, tomorrow morning for sure.”
“No thunderstorms.”
“No, definitely no thunderstorms.”
“Okay. But we’ll eat dinner first.”
We’d brought a casserole for tonight that we’d only have to heat up. Ansel started the fire, and I prepared the bed for later. The big wooden chest took up most of the floor space in the cabin, making it hard to move around.
“Ansel, can I put some of our things into the chest?”
“Sure. Just check it for spiders and stuff first.”
I might have gotten slightly carried away reorganizing. When the chest was cleared out and our gear was neatly folded inside it, I moved it to the opposite corner, under the coat hooks by the door. It just made more sense that way.
“This is better, right?”
Ansel glanced around from the stove. “Sure.” He froze, staring at something on the floor where the chest had stood before. “What’s that?”
It looked like an old notebook, bound in canvas. I picked it up, wiped it off with the rag I was already holding, and handed it to Ansel. He turned it in his hands. There were no inscriptions on it.
“It must have been underneath the chest,” I said.
Frowning, he opened it. “It’s my granddad’s handwriting.” He sounded awed. “Come, look.”
I stood next to him and read over his shoulder.
November 2, 1997
The weather is abysmal. Didn’t venture outside.
November 3, 1997
The wind cleared the sky, strong moonlight. Spotted two shadows above the lake. They obscured the stars. Again, the forest fell silent, like the animals knew. Do dragons hunt mammals?
“He really did come here to watch the dragons fly,” I said.
Ansel remained quiet, just turning pages.
February 19, 1998
They get bolder when they think the park is empty.
One was sitting on top of West Hook. Clear silhouette visible after sunset.
He remained unmoving, just looking around.
Was he simply enjoying the view? Flew away after twelve minutes.
I had to return to the cabin since the temperature was dropping quickly.
Below was a rough sketch of a dragon sitting on top of a sharp cliff, wings folded.
March 6, 2000
Two years without a sighting. Have they become more careful? Have they moved away from Cross River?
May 15, 2000
I’ve been looking for nests up in the mountains. Ten days on the range with no results. Feeling like a fool.
June 18, 2000
Nothing. They’re gone.
Ansel made a small sound, something between a laugh and a sob. I ducked to look at his face.
“Sweetheart, you okay?”
He sniffled. “I wish I could tell him about you.”
Tears brimming in his eyes, Ansel hugged the notebook to his chest.
We sat down on the bed, and I held him as he went through the sporadic journal entries until he found his own name.
Ansel is here with me. Bernard didn’t want to let him go but relented in the end. It’s such a joy to have the little sprout running around.
Ansel laid his head on my shoulder and read on.
On the next page, one date was underlined.
July 3, 2012
They’re back! A clear silhouette of a large dragon against the moonlit sky. Ansel was asleep in his sleeping bag. Probably a good thing.
The very last entry was from August 2015. The notebook ended there, so maybe Ansel’s granddad started another?
Bernard didn’t want to let Ansel come with me, claiming the child needed to attend a gala and learn to build connections. Such nonsense. He’s only thirteen! Luckily, Remy interfered. He’s awful to the child but occasionally shows more common sense than my thickheaded son.
“Who’s Remy?” I asked in a whisper, not wanting to startle Ansel, who seemed engrossed.
“My omega papa.”
The nights are warm. We’re taking the sleeping bags and going to the range to look for the fliers. Ansel thinks I’m crazy but indulges me. He’s a rare soul with a good heart. I haven’t given up. I want him to see.
Ansel flipped the back cover as if looking for a nonexistent extra page. But that was the last entry.
He sagged against me, and we sat in silence.
“Do you know where the place is?” he asked after a long while. “The West Hook.”
“Yes. It’s not the tallest but it’s the sharpest peak on the range. It’s not accessible for climbers. Your granddad must have seen the dragon from far away. Did he by any chance use binoculars?”
“He had several for birdwatching.”
“Or dragon watching.”
Ansel chuckled weakly, then sighed. “Can we go there? To the West Hook.”
“All the way to the top? Sure. But it’s already pitch black outside. Let’s fly in the morning. The sun comes up at seven thirty. If we leave at six thirty, we’ll make it there and back before sunrise. You’ll need to dress very warm, though. That high up, it could be freezing.”
Understandably, my mate was subdued during the evening, but he ate his dinner and wanted to make love like every night.
I didn’t question him or push him to talk to me.
Instead, I spent an hour and a half bringing him pleasure in every possible way there was.
By eleven, he was sated and relaxed, resting in my arms in our joined sleeping bags.
“He’d have liked you. Not just because you’re a dragon, even though he’d have been thrilled by that.” Gently stroking my chest, he kissed my chin. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that if his granddad were alive, he’d never be allowed to know I was a dragon.
“I love you, Ansel.”
He rolled over and dragged my arm with him, hugging it. Curled up in my lap, he kissed my fingers.
“I love you too, Pascal. Today was strange, but I’m okay. I hope you don’t worry about me anymore.”
Ansel was my everything, the point of my existence, so of course I’d always worry. But more than anything, he made me happy.
I kissed his nape and held him, listening to his breaths until I was sure he was asleep.
In the morning, we ate cereal for breakfast and dressed in a hurry. I shifted with Ansel watching. He didn’t even flinch. Then he helped me fasten the harness, put on his own gear, and climbed onto my back.
After we made sure all carabiners were clipped in, I lifted carefully, turning my head so I could see him with one eye. He clutched the harness and wobbled as I waved my wings.
“Whoa!”
“You good?”
“Yes.” He looked around at the treetops and grinned wide. “This is way cooler than sitting caged in your claws.”
“Then hold on. It’s going to get windy.”
Ansel whooped as I took off along the mountainside. The sky was cloudy today, already brightening with the upcoming dawn.
I flew along the range for a while, taking the scenic route before landing on top of West Hook. The peak was so sharp there was barely enough room for me to stand on all fours.
“Should I unclip?” Ansel asked.
“Indulge me, sweetheart, and stay up there, okay? All carabiners will remain locked.”
Ansel harrumphed but remained in the harness, sitting astride my shoulders. I turned my head and bumped his chest with my nose.
“Some of the rocks are loose. It’s safer for you like this.”
“Okay. I hear you.” He patted my nose. “The view is incredible.”
The White Bear, Cross River’s tallest peak, rose to the left, its pale cliffs tinted lavender in the morning light.
“There!” Ansel called suddenly, and I checked where he was pointing.
Below us to the right was a rocky slope that gentled into a meadow. Lower down, just above the line of trees, was a small shelter, just three low walls and a roof built from rough planks, with a circle of rocks in front of it for a fireplace.
“When you think about the shape of the cliff and the angle, Granddad must have been down there when he spotted the dragon sitting here. Is it a cottage?”
I’d forgotten my human mate couldn’t see so well and so far in the dim predawn light.
“No. Just a small shelter. It’s falling apart. A part of the roof is missing.”
“Oh. But he could have been there, right?”
“Possibly. Do you want to have a look?”
“Yes.”
“Then hold on.”
I pushed off the cliff and dove down, circling above the shelter. I landed a few yards away, and we gazed up at West Hook. The silhouette of the mountain rose above us like a giant eagle’s beak.
“It must have been here,” Ansel said.
“I still don’t understand how he could have spotted us. People aren’t supposed to be able to see us without direct sunlight.”
“I can see you just fine as long as you’re right in front of me and I know it’s you. But you get kind of glimmery along the edges. As if you were emanating heat and the air shivered around you. We can try it. I get down, and you fly up now.”
“What’s the time?”
“Five minutes after seven.”
“Okay. A quick experiment. Then we must head back.”
Ansel climbed off my back and sat down on a rock by the shelter. I flew up West Hook, landed for a minute, then returned to him.
He was shaking his head when I came closer.
“So?”
“As soon as you took off, you just vanished. I couldn’t see a thing until you landed right in front of me. It was like you dispersed into thin air.”
In a way, it calmed me.
Ansel’s granddad was an oddity. An exception. And it bugged me that we might never find out how it was possible he could see what no other human could.