Chapter 7
seven
Te Ab Omni Malo Protego
Iretrieve Oscar and my suitcase in short order but as I’m sneaking out, Renee asks to see the lizard. I tell her it disappeared in the least convincing, not at all suspicious voice, and she looks at me kinda funny before I wave goodbye.
It’s not really a lie. The lizard was gone, and the dragon man had disappeared in a blop of ink.
I head to the only place in town to get everything I need: Hanson’s. It’s a gas station, liquor, grocery, and clothing store.
I throw men’s boxer briefs, a t-shirt three pack, and a pair of black XL sweatpants in my cart.
I move on to the pet aisle for a few cans of special wet food for Oscar since this is going to be a stressful time, and then find a bag of my favorite cheddar chickpea puffs.
I’m just about to put a frozen meal in my cart when I realize that, A) there is no microwave and B) there is no electricity.
I groan and grab a package of protein bars, a bag of apples, and a jar of peanut butter.
Then, since I remember there’s no electricity, I head down the home goods aisle and get a few candles, a lighter, and a throw blanket.
I have a blow-up mattress and everything I need to sleep on it, but I have a feeling it’s going to get pretty cold tonight with no heat and old walls.
Lastly, I get a broom, trash bags, and a few other cleaning supplies to make the place a little more livable. Like a plunger…
Oh fuck.
I don’t know if there’s a toilet.
I’m going to have to pee in the bushes like a beast.
I take a deep breath and close my eyes.
“This is fine. Everything’s going to be fine.”
I mutter more vapid positivity to myself as I head to the checkout. There’s a boy who couldn’t be older than sixteen working the lane with a bored expression. His scowl grows with every item he scans, and he looks up at me in confusion at the end.
“Eighty-two fifty,” he says.
Cheese and rice.
I pull out my credit card, and he stops me.
“Oh, uh sorry, the machine’s down. Cash only.”
I grimace. “I don’t have any cash.”
He shrugs and pulls out a sheet of paper with hand-drawn lines in columns. “What’s your name?”
“Caitlin Kennedy?”
“Oh, the bookstore owner, right?” he asks as he scribbles my name.
How does everyone…?
Right. Small town.
“Yeah, that’s me.”
“When you come back and the machine’s up, you can pay then,” he says, writing down my total next to “Kate Lynn Book Woman.”
“Are you sure?” I ask.
“That’s what my dad says to do. It’s fine,” he says with another nonchalant shrug.
“Well, thanks mister…?” I trail off and extend my hand.
“No mister, just Mike,” he says as he puts the handles of the bag in my waiting handshake.
“Cool, thanks again. I’ll be back in a few days,” I say as I turn for the exit.
“Good luck with that place,” he calls after me.
“I’m gonna need it,” I mumble as I head out into the cold afternoon.
How it is so chilly in May still baffles me.
Oscar mewls incessantly when I get back to the car and it sounds pretty grumpy. Not a “I have to poop” meow, or “I’m hungry,” but something new. Maybe “I’ve been in a cage too long” meow. I’m not sure how I feel about having Oscar outside the cage with that enormous, rude, absolutely shredded—
“Ack! Stop thinking about his muscles!”
Oscar meows louder over my admonishment.
We pull into the gravel drive and I park, staring at the door. Oscar goes on and on about how terrible his life is while I think about how much worse it could be. Just a flash of claws and poor little baby is gone…
Rage swells in my stomach at the thought of anyone hurting my boy. I would peel that dragon’s scales off one by one and give him a salt bath.
But that shouldn’t be necessary. He said Oscar was welcome…
In my own home. The prick. Gosh dang it I want to give him what for, but how?
My gaze drifts to the ancient copy of Moby Dick next to one of the grocery bags. The tip of the lighter pokes out the top, sparking an idea. I would never actually burn a book, but maybe if I threatened to, I could get that hunky jerk to agree to some terms.
“Stay here baby, I’ll be right back,” I tell a still screaming Oscar as I grab the lighter and the book.
The paper is so delightfully textured under my fingers. They really don’t make them like they used to. This is a treasure, but I have to do what I have to do to ensure our safety.
I tuck the book under my arm and get out the key to the shop.
My hand trembles as I turn the tumbler, then stuff the keys in my pocket.
I open the door wide and then strike the lighter.
Moby Dick looks so fragile in my other hand, and my guts churn.
I could easily destroy it on accident. I have to be very careful.
I take a determined step into the building and stop at the base of the stairs to the apartment.
“Dragon! Come down!” I yell.
There’s a quick flourish of black ink and he’s there before me. He sniffs the air twice, then snarls and moves in. My body tenses at his quick movement, but I don’t let myself freeze up.
I hold the lighter closer to Moby Dick. “Not another step!”
He stops in his tracks, a feral grimace putting his fangs fully on display.
“You charlatan,” he growls. “You claim to love books, yet hold a flame so close to one?”
“It’s my only recourse,” I reply without any of the confidence I want to feel. “You will promise not to harm me or my cat Oscar. Now.”
He sneers. “Or you’ll light my Dick on fire?”
A thread of amusement pokes through my nervousness at the statement. I don’t reply, because I don’t want to lie, but I hold the flame a tiny bit closer in attempt to prove my intention.
He grits his teeth and his claws flex at his sides. “The threat is unnecessary. As previously stated, you and your feline can stay.”
“But you mustn’t hurt us. Promise!”
His throat rolls and he stands up straighter; his milky eyes focused on the fire. “I will not harm, nor allow any harm to come to you, nor Oscar the feline.”
He raises his arm and drags a claw across his skin, splitting it. I suck in a sharp breath as ink seeps from the wound. Golden light flickers off the scales on his body as the dark blood swirls toward me. Bright orange words scrawl through the black in a slow roll.
Te ab omni malo protego.
“This oath I swear upon my hoard,” he says, and the ink surges around my body.
I drop the lighter as I pull back, but it’s too late.
The words sear through my sweater and into my skin.
I yelp at the sharp sting of what feels like a hundred tiny needles pricking my skin at once.
The dragon lunges forward and I stumble back to my ass with a heavy oof that radiates from my butt to my skull.
He feels around on the floor in front of me until he finds the book I dropped, then snatches it up in both arms pinned to his body.
He watches me warily from his crouched position as the tattooing sensation reaches a crescendo that makes me whimper.
But then there’s a rush of excitement. As if knowledge from centuries past is moving through my body and enlightening me. It’s as confusing as it is euphoric.
And then it’s over.
The pain in my chest subsides almost instantly.
I yank open the neck of my sweater to see gold light shimming under my skin at the base of my sternum, right there between my boobs.
It’s a full circle of the words that appeared in the ink, and inside that circle is a large, clawed hand.
Inside that clawed hand is a smaller human-looking hand, and inside the palm of that hand is a little cat paw.
Holy.
Freaking.
Dickballs.
I mean, I know he’s a lizard that transformed into a man-thing, but what I just witnessed was real magic. The blooping away with ink could’ve been some illusion, but this is something else. Something supernatural.
I run my fingers over the mark and the dragon in the corner hisses in breath, then takes two steps closer, though it looks as if he’s resisting the motion.
I glance up at him. “What?”
“You are under my protection now, as you asked for. When you need me, you can touch the mark, and I will come to you.”
“How?” I whisper.
“It is my power,” he says.
I nod dumbly. “Huh.”
The dragon rises and tentatively extends his hand to me. There’s something tender in the gesture, and a little scared. He’s offering something he’s never offered before, or perhaps something that’s been rejected.
I’m not sure where that thought came from but knowing that he won’t—or rather can’t—hurt me because of this magic, makes it feel a lot safer to touch him.
I mean, maybe the spell isn’t real…maybe I should be afraid.
But I’m not.
Those unseeing eyes are tinged with deep suffering. The pinch of his nervous brow is pleading. The thin line of his pursed lips and the little fang that pokes out from behind them are hopeful but prepared for rebuke.
I lean forward and take his offer. His fingers are smooth like paper and his palm is warm as I slide my hand into his.
“I’m Caitlin,” I say, staring up at him.
His hand wraps around mine, encompassing it entirely, and then he gently pulls me to my feet. I look up the plane of his body to his jaw, then his lips, and his eyes. They’re so white. Knowing how much he loves his books, but likely can’t read them, makes my heart ache.
“Bastian,” he says.
“Aaaaaaah!”
Oscars panicked call reaches me through the car door. I look at him, then back at Bastian.
“You promise,” I say. “Even if he claws you?”
“The binding words are upon your body. If I harm him, I will be punished by your magic accordingly.”
I turn to get Oscar when the last few words sink in.
“I’m sorry,” I say, whirling back on him. “My magic?”
He’s quiet for a moment, and in that quiet Oscar screams again, somehow louder. I ignore the question for now since getting my baby is more pressing than getting his answer. Oh, and getting the naked dragon some clothes.
I go to the passenger door and grab the bag with the boxers as well as Oscar’s kennel.
Bastian waits in the doorway and I glance around to see if anyone else can see him.
There are buildings on either side of us, but neither one comes back as far, and behind us is a row of trees, so, probably safe from flashing unsuspecting onlookers.
He moves back as I come inside and close the door, leaving us in shadows from the light cast beyond the hall to the store. I hold out the bag, brushing the back of his hand with it.
“There’s clothes for you in here,” I say.
He grabs the plastic at the side instead of the handles and the boxers fall out. I tsk and bend down to get them, putting myself at eyeball height with his genitals. I glance—only because I didn’t realize how close I was until it was too late—and I look away immediately because I’m not a pervert.
But there was some very interesting texturing to the underside of his…
I shake my head and pop back up, handing him the package. “These are underwear, and in the bag are pants. Just one pair of pants for now, so you’ll have to rock boxers on wash day— Ah shit. I don’t know where the laundromat is,” I say, finishing that thought with a pathetic whine.
This place needs so much work.
“Laundromat…” Bastian repeats slowly.
I pinch my eyes shut and sigh. “If you’re going to stay here—”
“This is my hoard, I live here,” he says defensively.
“Right, and as the property owner, I’m allowing you and your hoard to stay here, but you can’t just laze about. This place is in shambles, and it’s not livable.”
“I’m living fine,” he says.
“You were nested in a pile of damaged books, that’s not fine,” I say.
Oscar “mrrphs” in agreement.
Bastian grumbles something unintelligible as he grimaces.
“Get dressed,” I chide as I open the package of boxers for him, then stuff a pair into his hand. “We have work to do.”