34. Pearl Chan’s Compendium of Dragons #2
At this, Rosie snorted. “Me and Bardo? Hardly! We’ve known each other since we were little kids.
His grandmother watched me when I was little so my dad could work.
Ah Ma Pearl said she knew what I was the moment she saw me, because she was like me.
She’s been gone a little over a year now. ” Rosie dabbed at her eyes.
Gemini jumped up onto Rosie’s lap, purring like a motor. When the cat blinked her eyes at Maida, she couldn’t help reaching out to scratch her head as well.
“What about the wrapper?” Maida asked, recalling the regurgitated matter that had sent Arthur into such a tailspin. “Was it yours or not?”
Rosie stared agape at Maida. “Do you think I’m an idiot? Do you know what that stuff does to people?”
“I’ve heard,” Maida said. “Though I’ve never seen it firsthand. Have you?”
Rosie’s features went a little too blank at the question. It was a practiced poker face, leading Maida to believe Rosie had something to hide.
“Was the wrapper Bardo’s then?” she asked.
“No! I mean….” Rosie scrambled to find the right words. “I don’t think so. I don’t think the wrapper was his. He’s not stupid enough to leave a trail like that.”
Maida sat down at one of the bistro tables and sighed. “So your dad was right to be concerned, then.”
“Bardo would never do anything to hurt me, Maida.”
“I’d like to believe you, Rosie, but addiction can make people do uncharacteristic things.” Maida chose her words carefully.
“Poor Bardo,” Rosie said. “He was always the scrawniest little kid, always getting picked on. It took some time for him to grow into his form. His first few shifts were terrifying for him.”
“I can only imagine,” Maida said.
“Just between you and me, he’s not the brightest beast in the bunch.” Rosie sighed. “He’s always trying to get the other guys to respect him. He makes bad choices.”
“Was experimenting with Nocturnaturals part of that?” Maida asked. She was struggling to keep her voice calm and judgment free. But what she wanted to tell Rosie was probably the same exact thing her father had yelled.
Stay away from that boy!
“It’s okay now. Everything’s fine. He swears he’s stopped,” Rosie assured her.
“So if it’s not your wrapper, and it’s not Bardo’s, then whose was it?”
“No clue. And that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.” Rosie frowned and tapped her book.
“This book explains what I am,” Rosie tapped a finger on the cover, “and it explains why it’s a little awkward for me to talk to my father.”
“What do you mean?” Maida asked. “Aren’t you a shifter like your parents?”
“I am a shifter,” Rosie said. “But I am nothing like my parents. Some of us are just born a little different from our parents.”
Maida could hardly argue with this, so she simply nodded and gestured for Rosie to go on.
“Look at you.” Rosie pointed at Maida. “You’re half witch, half shifter, right? You probably never should have been born.”
Maida winced at this, and Rosie recanted.
“I don’t mean it like that. What I mean is, statistically speaking, it was highly unlikely.
And yet here we both are. I don’t think we need to think of it like we’re freaks.
I think we should embrace the fact that we’re extra special.
” Rosie spoke like she was parroting a script, but there was growing confidence in her voice as well, as if upon hearing herself speak the words out loud, she was delighted to discover she actually believed them.
With a flourish, she flipped open the book. Maida leaned forward to read the title page. The writing on the title page was childish, and somewhat faded. It read Pearl Chan’s Complete Compendium of Domestic Dragons.
“What is this?” Maida leaned forward to touch the thin parchment paper of the book.
She flipped a page and was amused to see a family portrait that included a red mama dragon, a viridian green papa dragon and a small pink baby dragon.
All three dragons were smiling. At the bottom of the page, someone had scrawled the name Pearl.
“This is Pearl Chan’s Dragon Grimoire.”
“Her grimoire?” Maida paused, confused. As far as she knew, only witches kept grimoires. “Is this a work of fiction? Was she hoping to publish this?”
“No.” Rosie shook her head, a bit frustrated. She flipped further into the book, where the drawings became increasingly more elaborate and detailed. “I don’t think you understand. This is her life’s work.”
Maida pulled the book closer, admiring the almost photorealistic quality of the pen and ink drawings. The images seemed to shimmer.
“These are exquisite, but of course dragons are mythical beasts. They aren’t real, are they? I mean, Bardo is a yak shifter and my father is a Buffalo and your parents are?—”
“Red deer and caribou, I know!” Rosie finished impatiently. “But recessive genes, mutations, spontaneous magic…” She was growing flushed now, two bright scarlet patches glowed on each of her cheeks.
“Of course.” Maida nodded, still studying the fantastical drawings. “But dragons, Rosie? Seriously? Are you pulling a prank on me?”
“Ughhhh.” Rosie groaned. “Promise me you won’t freak out?”
A wave of heat was followed by a resounding fffwomp sound that reminded Maida of the sound of a gas stove being lit.
The pages of the book ruffled in the hot breeze and Maida leapt to her feet, instinctively.
She almost collided with the massive dragon crouched in the center of the cafe.
It was slowly flapping its oversized wings, careful not to knock over the furniture.
Maida’s first instinct was to scream, but she was careful to stifle her urge because the last thing she wanted to do was overreact. There was no question that the creature before her was none other than Rosie.
But this version of Rosie was so much larger, so much more mythological, and so much more dangerous.
The scarlet circles on her cheek still glowed and shimmered with an iridescent sheen.
Her nostrils were flared and her eyes were a mirror of the flames she surely contained.
A small tendril of smoke wafted out from between her front fangs.
Maida felt a trail of sweat rolling down her spine. This was only partially due to the sudden rise in temperature. It was impossible not to feel nervous standing beneath a living, breathing, modern day dragon.
If there are fairies and talking squirrels, why shouldn’t there be dragons as well?
Maida grasped a chair for balance and chided herself for questioning what Rosie had been trying to tell her.
In dragon form or human, it was still Rosie, she reminded herself.
Just Rosie.
She looked up so she could take in the whole of her.
Now that Maida had the chance to look at her, really see her in all her natural glory, she could appreciate the beauty Rosie was.
Every scale was polished to perfection and glowing, streaked with a palette to rival the most exotic flower petals.
The colors of her scales ranged from pale green to gold to magenta.
They changed like prisms, reflecting the light differently from every angle.
“My gods you’re gorgeous!” Maida praised. She reached out a hand but stopped just short of touching Rosie’s left wing, a miracle of sinew and finely veined skin as delicate as lacework.
“May I?” she asked.
Rosie held out her wing, allowing Maida to run her hand along the silky surface. She wrapped her hand around Rosie’s sharp talon as if to shake hands. “I am most honored to make your acquaintance, Rosie. You are my first dragon, and if I say so myself, you are smokin’ hot.”
In the next instant, she was holding Rosie’s human hand, and the girl was grinning ear to ear, a human once more. “I can’t believe you said that. That was the worst joke ever!”
After they both stopped laughing, Rosie flipped back through the book until she found a drawing of a dragon very similar to herself. “I think I’m most like her. I’ve got the same colors.”
“Are there many of you?” Maida asked, glancing from the drawing and back to the girl.
“No. Most folk will never see a dragon in their entire lifetime,” she said.
“It’s a rare occurrence. Pearl’s family was an exception.
Both of her parents were dragons. But Pearl’s son, and his sons, were yak shifters—same as her own grandparents had been.
She was very bitter about that.” Rosie had a pained expression on her face.
“But she was kind to you?” Maida asked.
“So kind. She’s always spoiled me—making me gifts and telling me stories. I felt bad taking the book. Bardo should have had it.”
“It was Pearl’s book to give as she chose, and I think she chose well,” Maida said. “What would Bardo have done with the book?”
“Sold it, probably, to buy a new K-bike.” Rosie sighed. “Dragon grimoires are exceptionally rare. I think we should probably keep it in the Archives.” She stroked Gemini absent-mindedly as she spoke. “As far as I know, dragons are the only shifters to keep grimoires, and familiars.”
“So Gemmy is your familiar?” Maida raised a brow.
“You didn’t think she was a regular house cat, did you?” The corner of Rosie’s mouth twitched into a smile that was so much like her father’s.
“We should clean up from dinner,” Maida suggested, “unless you have some special dragon magic for sanitizing dishes with fire?”
Rosie’s eyes flashed.
“Too soon?” Maida bit her lip. “I’m sorry, I won’t tease you if it’s offensive.”
“No,” Rosie giggled, “I’m not that thin skinned. Literally. It’s just so strange to be teased. Nobody else knows, except for Bardo.”
“He figured it out?” Maida was surprised.
“Yeah, he acted like it was no big deal, but I think he felt…” Rosie paused to hunt for the word she wanted to use.
“Jealous?” Maida asked.
“Maybe. But not that. More like ‘bad’. He never wanted to be a dragon. He’s perfectly happy being a yak. He just wished that had been enough for his grandma.” Rosie sighed and stood to clear the table. She stacked the plates and turned toward the kitchen.
“You’re a good friend, Rosie.” Maida hugged the girl. “I hope Bardo appreciates that.”