CHAPTER 80
DAKOTA
Aggie walks out to us with slow, measured steps. She’s by herself, and as she approaches, she looks around furtively. “Is anyone else out here?”
“Just me and Murr,” I tell her, curious. “We were about to go scavenging. What’s going on?”
She moves in closer and puts a hand to her mouth, as if sharing a secret. “I need a favor. Dottie’s eightieth birthday is coming up and I want to give her a party. Cake, hats, presents, the works.”
I’m torn. Part of me loves the idea, but I’d be willing to bet we can’t find most of those things. I need to set proper expectations with Aggie so she isn’t disappointed if we come back empty-handed. “We can look, sure, but I don’t know how we’d find flour or make cake at this point—”
She waves off my concerns. “You’ve got a dragon. You’ll figure something out. Get what you can. I want to make her feel special. She’s my best friend, you know.”
I should tell her that there’s no way we’ll find everything on her wish list. But there’s something about the look in her eyes and my worry over Dottie that makes me pause. “We’ll check some party stores and I’ll look for a grocery that hasn’t been destroyed. I can’t promise anything, though.”
“I know you’ll do what you can.” She pats my arm.
“What does she want as a present?” Maybe that will be something simpler that I can satisfy if nothing else. “Clothes? A pillow?”
Aggie is slow to answer. “She never says she wants anything, but I think she likes cups.”
“Cups?” I echo. “Like for coffee?”
“Not exactly. Coffee is best in a mug. She likes a teacup. Them fancy little things you see English ladies using with their pinkies out.”
Oh. Like porcelain china teacups. Good god, she’s better off asking for a cake. I haven’t seen a lot of fine porcelain that’s survived the After. “I’ll see what we can do.”
I glance over at Murr, but he’s just waiting patiently for me to explain to him what it is we’re after, and probably what the heck a fancy teacup is. If anyone can find it, though, it’s the two of us together.
Okay then, birthday party stuff. Hats. Ingredients for a cake. Wrapping paper.
Porcelain china.
And me with a backpack and a dragon.
No problem at all.
Aggie heads off, pleased with herself, and I’m left alone with my new husband. “A few more things to get,” I explain to him apologetically. “This might be an all-day trip.”
“Day with Dakota, good day,” he says, and I get the warm fuzzies.
I stand on my tiptoes and pull him down for a kiss. “You’re too good to be true.”
“Explain?”
“Just me saying that I’m happy you’re my husband.”
He kisses me, his hands moving to my waist. “Ready fly?”
Goosebumps prickle over my skin. Am I ready? I suspect if I think about it for a while I’m just going to make myself more anxious. “Let’s do it. I’ll tap your arm if I need to get your attention.”
Murr cups my face again, kissing me one more time before stepping away.
A moment later, his dragon form explodes into view, the massive, scaled body erupting from seemingly nowhere.
It’s always a startling transition, and I don’t know how he shifts from an oversized golden human to an oversized dragon the size of a city bus (never mind the wings), but I’m guessing it’s magic of some kind.
I wouldn’t have believed in magic ten years ago, but I now live in a world with a tear in the sky and dragons everywhere, so there’s a lot I’m willing to handwave aside.
His dragon form is beautiful, though. So beautiful. His neck is long and graceful, his head a massive triangular shape that manages to look elegant and weighty at the same time. Spikes trail over his brows and down his spine, and when he unfurls his wings, it takes my breath away.
With one foreleg, he reaches out and gently enfolds me in his grip, his shorn claws more evident than ever. When he holds me in his “hand,” I’m covered from breast to hip. My backpack shoves up my shoulders a bit higher than comfortable, but I ignore it. I’d rather lose the pack than Murr lose me.
He pulls me in and nuzzles me with his long snout like I’m one of his cats, and I can’t help but chuckle. “I know,” I say. “I know you’ve got me. I trust you. Just take off gently so I don’t freak out, and let’s see what we can see from above, hmm?”
And because I’m a big ninny, I squeeze my eyes shut. On an airplane, take-offs and landings were the worst. Surely it’s the same for dragon flight.
Murr nudges me with his nose one more time. I feel a tremendous heave, as if all his muscles are bunching up, and then he surges into the air. My body jerks, but the draconic hand gripping me about my waist remains tight and reassuring.
But then my feet leave the ground and my hair whips about, and I have to swallow hard to keep my coffee down.
Open your eyes, I tell myself. You can’t tell him where to go if you don’t keep your eyes open. Open your damn eyes, Dakota.
I squeeze one eye open. The wind makes it difficult to see, but we’re rising into the air. Down below, I see a figure waving up at us from the parking lot. Rabbit.
Even though it’s terrifying to lift my hand, I manage a wave back, because I don’t want her to be scared of flying. This is fine. This is totally fine.
Murr catches a breeze and his wings cease pumping for altitude. High above the broken, ramshackle buildings down below, we circle, and I know he’s waiting for me to provide direction. Squinting against the wind, I peer below and try to make sense of where we are.
“That way,” I say, picking an old street overgrown with greenery.
The dragon tilts his wings and body, veering in that direction, and my coffee nearly comes up again.