Chapter 14
Carly
The Starving Aardvark was quaint, cheerful, and very busy. It had indoor dining as well as a bustling patio at the front, which was useful for those bringing their canine friends. And sure enough, there was a with the cutest little Pomeranian at their feet.
“Welcome to the Starving Aardvark. We have your usual table ready at the back.” Our host wore a colorful tie with tiny little aardvarks embroidered on it. It was a fun touch and fit the whimsical vibe of the restaurant. I was glad it was a casual place and not somewhere pretentious; I didn’t have the energy for that today.
As we threaded our way through the patio, I heard Desmon’s name murmured several times, and immediately felt a little awkward. I hadn’t realized we were going to get recognized right away. But I tried to ignore the feeling as we followed the host inside and to the back of the dining room. I focused on all the yummy-looking food at the various tables instead.
The first thing that caught my eye were the towers of eggs, bacon, and mini bite-sized French toast that some of the couples were sharing. Someone else had a giant stack of pancakes smothered in butter and syrup. And, of course, many of the patrons were enjoying their signature chicken and waffles. I’d come in thinking I knew what I was going to order, but now I wasn’t so sure.
Our table was on a small raised platform at the very back of the dining room. There was a railing festooned with fake flowers running around the perimeter of the platform, and the area was slightly darkened, which gave us plenty of privacy. In fact, I hadn’t even realized there were tables on the platform until we were up here.
There were two tables here, and the host sat us at the larger one. The other one had a reserved sign on it.
“This is my usual spot when I come here,” Desmon said as he pulled out my seat for me.
The old-fashioned gesture had me grinning. Instead of sitting across from me, he pulled his seat over so he could sit next to me. He looked out over the rest of the restaurant.
“It’s a good place to people-watch,” he said.
It was indeed, and this was the type of restaurant that brought in all sorts, from the professional-looking guy in the suit eating by himself in the corner to the group of young art students chit-chatting on the patio.
“Do you do that a lot?” I asked. “People-watch?”
He shrugged. “Not a lot, but sometimes.” He looked like he was about to say more, but just then our waiter arrived.
“Desmon! My favorite dragon. I see you have a guest today.” He moved Desmon’s plates and cutlery to his new chosen spot and sent me a genuine smile. “I’m Rupert, and I’ll be your waiter today. And in case you’re wondering, no, we are not aardvark shifters. We get asked that all the time.”
Rupert wasn’t wearing an aardvark tie, but what I had mistaken for simple dots on his shirt were actually teeny, tiny little aardvarks. Cute.
After ordering our drinks, Desmon brought out a tiny can and opened it. It made that classic pop top sound, but it was empty.
“What is it?” I asked.
“It’s a canned Blanket of Silence spell.”
“A literal canned spell?” Canned spells were what people called premade, single-use spells like the one I’d used to cover up my swollen lip. Usually, they were sold in recyclable foil packages.
“Seth made this one. He has a sense of humor and likes to put his spells in literal cans. It’s better than the glass bottles from back in the day, but the cans are a bit of a nuisance to carry around compared to foil.”
“So no one can hear us right now?” I asked.
“No, they can’t. They would need to be inside our bubble. But I usually still check, just in case.” He cleared his throat, then shouted, “Look, it’s Elvis!”
There was no response from the people in the restaurant, but it had me giggling.
“Hate to burst your bubble, but Elvis isn’t a good test anymore.”
“Oh yeah? Then what is?”
I grinned, then yelled, “ Oh my god, it’s Taylor Swift !”
Still nothing.
“The spell works,” I said solemnly, nodding.
That earned me a throaty chuckle.
“Good, let’s decide what we want to eat before I start in on my story.”
“I know you said the chicken waffles are really good here, but I kinda have my eye on the giant breakfast tower. It’s a dish for two, though…” I wasn’t sure if Desmon would be into that or if he’d want to order his own thing.
“We’ll order both and share.”
I looked at the description for the All-Day Breakfast Tower. It boasted six eggs done any way you wanted, a pile of bacon, mini breakfast sausages, baked beans, your choice of two of either mini bite-sized waffles, pancakes, or French toast smothered in butter and real maple syrup, and if all that wasn’t enough, a huge assortment of fresh fruit. It was all served on one of those three-tiered platters, the type you usually see displaying desserts at special events.
I eyed the couple who had given up on their tower and were asking for a to-go box. “That’s a lot of food,” I said doubtfully.
“I eat a lot,” he said. “And I flew today, so I am extra hungry.”
“Oh, well, in that case, let’s go ahead and get both.” I couldn’t imagine how much a dragon would put away at a buffet.
Rupert returned with our drinks, and we placed our order. As we waited for our food, Desmon explained the whole competition between him and Gillisandra.
“So let me get this straight,” I said. “About three centuries ago, a demon took six artifacts and hid them around the world, each one with tips and clues as to its location, and you have to find four out of six of them before this other dragon does or else you will be forced to sleep for a hundred years?”
“That is the short version, yes.”
I shook my head at the ridiculousness of it all. “But what’s the point? These artifacts weren’t lost to begin with. You guys already had them. Why hide them again and have a competition on who can find them?”
“Because we were bored,” he said. “Games and competitions like this are how dragons stay entertained. Demons, too. And the entertainment isn’t just for the participants but those betting on the games as well. Technically, it is forbidden for anyone to affect the outcomes in order to win a bet, but we all know that dragons and demons do not play by the rules.”
“And this key is supposed to lead to one of these artifacts?”
“It is. The competition is drawing to a close. My intel tells me this is the last artifact still out there.”
“I see. So you really need this to win.”
“I do.”
No wonder we had to use a privacy spell to talk. I looked around the restaurant, but everyone seemed to be ignoring us, except for Rupert, who was emerging from the kitchen with our giant three-tier tray of yummy breakfasty goodness.
A hundred years! Suddenly, I felt silly for even thinking for a millisecond that Desmon and I would ever work out, no matter how attractive he found me. He was a dragon! He took hundred-year naps! Even if something serious did develop between the two of us, and I spent my life with him, I would only ever be a tiny blip on his entire existence. How long did dragons live, anyway?
But I was getting way ahead of myself. We were on date number one. We might have done things in the wrong order, with me feeling him up before we even met and him licking me to oblivion before dinner, but this was still date number one. I needed to take this one day at a time.
I took a huge, calming sip of my Diet Coke. And no, I didn’t order it because I wanted to save a few calories. I was past that. Maybe a few years ago, but now, the fake aspartame flavor was like an old friend. It had gotten me through college, my one and only breakup, and my first job. It was going to help me through this too.
I didn’t care what the health gurus said about fake sugar. I liked it, and I was going to continue drinking it. So sue me.
Rupert finally made it through the maze of tables and stairs and placed the giant breakfast tower on our table. There was a ridiculous amount of food on it, especially when it came to the bacon and sausage, definitely much more than in the picture on the menu or on the other towers I’d seen around the restaurant. The kitchen must have put more for Desmon. Another waiter set down the plate of chicken and waffles, which looked similarly stacked. I swear, there must be an entire chicken on there.
These had to be special dragon-sized portions. Extra meaty.
Kind of like me . I tittered inwardly at the thought.
And then all my inner monologue disappeared as I took my first bite of chicken with scrumptiously crackly skin and perfectly done waffles, all smothered in maple syrup.
Date number one was starting out strong.