11. Artemis
ARTEMIS
The storage building looked less like a place to meet a librarian and more like a place where someone hid government secrets or a large collection of construction equipment.
It stretched the length of half the block with metal siding and a roll-up door.
Above the entrance, a single floodlight provided the only illumination.
I stopped beside Arthur and stared at it. “If this is where he stores his dead bodies, I want you to know I blame you for this entire situation.”
Arthur didn’t react the way I hoped he would. No smile, not even a hint of amusement. Just a deep look at the building like he was reconsidering every decision that had brought him to this moment.
“I shouldn’t have brought you here,” he said. “But since you are here, you must stay next to me. No matter what.”
My heart gave a giddy, yet alarming, thump. I nodded. “Of course.” Then, quieter, “What have I gotten myself into?”
Arthur looked at the building again with quiet intensity.
His hand hovered near mine, not quite touching, but close enough that I could feel the heat of him.
We waited in silence until footsteps scraped across the pavement.
Percy hurried toward us, scanning every direction as if expecting snipers to drop from the rooftops.
He wore a hat now. A large one. I had no explanation for it.
“Sorry for the precautions.” He unlocked the padlock with trembling fingers. “I have received death threats about the information I’ve been uncovering. It has been a stressful few years.”
“That explains the speed walking,” I muttered.
Percy nodded as if I had complimented him. “Exactly.”
Arthur moved a little closer to me as Percy rolled up the door. The inside of the building brightened as overhead lights clicked on one at a time.
I stepped in and froze.
The inside of the storage building was not at all what I’d expected.
Floor-to-ceiling shelves lined every wall.
Stacks of documents sat in uneven piles.
Papers with notes scrawled in tight handwriting were pinned to corkboards.
Red circles had been drawn on a myriad of maps.
One table held nothing but catalog cards sorted into careful groups.
It looked like the inside of someone’s mind. A frantic, brilliant mind. A mind that probably hadn’t gotten a decent night’s sleep in years.
“You have your own research bunker,” I said.
Percy straightened with obvious pride. “I have been compiling records for thirteen years. I always wondered when you would appear, Arthur Vantross.”
Arthur stiffened beside me.
Percy approached and extended a hand. “Percy Caballero. For real this time.”
Arthur’s gaze sharpened, and he shook Percy’s hand. “Caballero. From the line of Cristóbal Caballero. The historian and author of Recopilación de Linajes de Dragones Notables de este Milenio.”
I startled. “That’s the book you were looking for.”
Arthur gave a small nod. “His work. Nearly all copies were destroyed. One lost in a printing house fire. Two seized during political unrest in Europe. One vanished in America.”
Percy’s mouth tightened. “Yes. That’s why I asked to meet you here. My ancestor was the last human allowed into the archives of dragon knowledge. I have no idea why he was granted permission, but it’s documented in fragments. I’ve been working to compile it most of my adult life.”
Arthur glanced at me, quickly, but I could not read his eyes.
Percy continued. “There’s a gap in my genealogy as well. Not the same number of years as yours, but there’s still a gap.”
I turned to Arthur, a quiet thrill thrumming through me. His expression changed into something like vindication. Relief and confirmation rolled into one.
My eyebrows shot up. “Wait. Dragons? A genealogy of dragons?” I looked between them. “That… I mean… that’s folklore. Mythology. You two are talking about this like it’s an actual academic discipline.”
Percy blinked at me with open confusion. You’d have sworn I’d asked him why books existed.
“Of course it is important. You would know that if Arthur had explained things to you properly.”
“Oh. Right.” I nodded, even though I understood none of what was being implied. “Naturally. I missed the chapter in my training manual about dragon family trees.”
Percy’s expression shifted from confusion to mild surprise. “You truly don't know.”
“Know what?” I asked.
He looked at Arthur. “You brought your mate here without telling her anything?”
My brain stuttered. Mate? Oh wait, that meant friend. As in, the English phrase best mate. I had never heard the term used in everyday language in the United States.
Arthur closed his eyes for a second. “She’s not…this isn’t the moment.”
Percy shook his head in disbelief. “She should at least—”
Arthur stepped slightly in front of me. “I will explain everything. Soon.”
I swallowed hard. My thoughts spun in rapid, uneven loops. Mate? Dragon archives? Gaps in genealogies? Why was this so important? Why did Arthur’s lineage matter so much? Why did Percy’s matter?
Percy continued talking, as if he hadn’t just detonated a bomb in my brain.
“The last known place that held records written by my ancestor was the Writers’ Museum in Edinburgh.
They may hold the papers, but they have ignored every request I have sent, so I can’t tell if they no longer have them or if they’re trying to give me the brush-off because they don’t want me to access them. ”
Percy handed Arthur a folder. Arthur’s gaze moved across the pages, and even without seeing much of his face, I could sense something settling inside him.
He had been right. Something had been hidden.
Something large. Something dangerous. The confidence I could see spreading through him made me feel warm down to my toes.
I just wished I knew what they were talking about.
I still knew nothing, but my heart was racing like it understood more than my mind did.
Arthur turned toward me, meeting my gaze and holding it with a depth that made me shiver. “Something happened in that missing time. It’s vital that I find out what.”
Percy rubbed his temples. “Then we need to work quickly. If someone removed that history once, they may try again. And that would explain the death threats.”
“Where do you think these death threats originated??”
Percy shrugged. “No clue. Whoever it was, they were good. No trace.”
Arthur inhaled slowly. His shoulders sagged. And he looked at me again. “So. Edinburgh.”
Warmth bloomed inside me. A new destination. A deeper mystery. And Arthur beside me.
Adventure Artie stirred again, more enthusiastically this time.
She was terrified.
She was thrilled.
She needed to breathe.
I needed a moment to breathe under normal circumstances. These were decidedly not normal circumstances.
Then my phone rang.
I jumped. Arthur startled. Percy reached into his pocket as if someone had fired a gun.
The caller ID showed my boss’s name. My stomach dropped.
“Oh no,” I whispered. “I forgot to tell the library I was leaving early.”
Arthur tilted his head. “Is this a problem?”
“Yes,” I said. “My boss is allergic to spontaneous decision making.”
I answered. “Hello.”
His tone came through sharp. “Miss Ripley, why are you not at your station? Several patrons have reported your absence. Where did you go? Why did you leave early? Why was I not notified?”
I winced. “I had a family emergency.”
“You can’t simply leave without proper documentation. You’re a vital part of this library’s structure. I can’t run a branch with interns.”
I rubbed my forehead. “Actually, I’ll need the rest of the week off.”
“The rest of the week? Absolutely not. That is unacceptable. I have programming and deadlines. I have paperwork with your name on it. You can’t drop everything because of some vague emergency. I need proof.”
I glanced around the bunker. There were so many options for proof, but zero reasonable ones.
“Hold on,” I said. “I can’t send pictures while I am on the phone.” And I hung up.
Arthur stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Artemis.”
My name coming from his mouth sent a little tingle down my spine.
“You don't have to come with me to Scotland,” he murmured. “I should have said that earlier. You owe me nothing.”
I blinked up at him. “Oh. I… I just assumed…”
He shook his head once. “It’s dangerous, and you have a life here. You shouldn’t feel pushed into anything.”
Disappointment lanced through me.
“But,” he added, “I could use your expertise. You understand catalogs, collections, and all these systems. You’ll see things I might miss.”
My brain snapped to attention like a dog hearing a whistle. Fartie Artie relaxed a fraction. I could be useful.
I swallowed. “You want me there?”
“Yes,” he said. “But the choice is yours.”
His gaze held steady on mine, and in it I saw no demands, no assumptions. I saw nothing but respect.
“Then I want to help,” I whispered back. It was stupid—I barely knew Arthur, and there was this whole strange, dangerous mystery of whatever the hell was going on, and now I was going off to another country with him?—but I’d wanted adventure, hadn’t I?
Arthur nodded, slow and almost relieved. “Thank you.”
The relief shouldn’t have had such tremendous impact. I clocked it anyway and filed it under the Things I Will Pretend Not To Notice For My Own Emotional Safety tab in my brain.
I exhaled and turned back to business before I could dissolve into emotional confetti. “Okay. Right. My boss. Who is about to combust.”
Arthur watched me, confusion flashing through his eyes. “What are you doing?”
“Something questionable.” I turned to Percy. “Can I borrow-slash-have a couple of the old coins pinned to your conspiracy board?”
Percy shrugged. “Take any you want. I have duplicates.”
I plucked two coins from the corkboard. One was Roman, the other was older and probably belonged in a museum or a vault or a reinforced box.
I took a picture of them on my palm and sent it to my boss.
Thirty seconds later, he called back. “Are you bribing me?” he asked, not bothering with greetings.
“Only if it works,” I said.
A long pause.
“Be back Monday,” he said. “You’re handling the summer school workshops.”
I nearly squealed. “Monday. Yes. Perfect.”
He ended the call.
I lowered my phone. “Well. That’s handled.”
Percy gaped at me. “You bribed him with ancient currency.”
“No, I bribed him with a picture of ancient currency. I’m not that irresponsible.”
Arthur’s mouth twitched in amusement.
Before I could savor the moment, a metallic groan tore through the storage unit as the roll-up door bowed inward. Arthur stepped toward me so fast I didn’t register the movement. His body angled between me and the door. Percy yelped and ducked behind a shelving unit.
The groan turned into a violent crack. The door split open.
Something forced its way inside. It was huge and scaled, and the floor vibrated under its weight.
My brain stopped working, and for an instant I thought I was hallucinating. Then my brain started up again.
It was not a hallucination. It was not something from a roleplaying manual.
It was a motherfucking dragon.
A real, honest-to-fuck dragon.
Its body filled the doorway, blocking the light. Smoke curled from its jaws. The ground shook as it stepped forward, one slow, deliberate stride at a time.
I took three steps back until my shoulder hit Arthur’s arm.
He didn’t move.
He stood firm and solid. His entire presence changed. Controlled strength gathered in every line of his body.
The dragon lowered its head and studied us with ancient, deadly intent.
Very quietly, very carefully, I whispered, “Arthur, what is that?”
He didn’t take his gaze off the creature. “Your introduction to the truth.”
My pulse jumped straight through the roof.
This man. This quest. The missing history. This strange pull between us.
None of it was folklore.
Arthur lifted a hand, slow and steady. He looked wholly unshaken. “Stay behind me.”
I didn’t argue.
The dragon stepped fully inside the room, teeth bared.
And that was how I learned my life was no longer a yearning for the stories I read in books.
It had just become one.