40. The Insufferable Wait of Possibilities
FORTY
THE INSUFFERABLE WAIT OF POSSIBILITIES
Even under stress, a gentleman must always present himself well—including the matter of scent. Whether in human form or otherwise, a sudden whiff of panic is never becoming.
Start with the essentials: proper grooming and a touch of cologne to mask any untimely odors.
Should stress bring out your more natural musk, a quick excuse for fresh air or a discreet splash of water will do wonders.
And for emergencies, a sprig of mint or lavender in your pocket can keep things refreshingly civilized.
–EXCERPT FROM THE METAMORPHIC MAN: A GENTLEMAN SHAPESHIFTER’S GUIDE TO CULTURED CONDUCT
Arthur checked all the usual places for Rosie.
First, he went to Bardo Chan’s house. The lights were all out, and the door was locked.
Peering through the windows he was dismayed to find the living room, that Pearl had always kept spotless, was now an indoor junkyard.
Food containers, empty boxes, papers, and piles of clothing were everywhere. But there was no sign of his daughter.
When he arrived at his apartment in Boston, he half expected to see Rosie concocting something in the kitchen. He could picture her sitting at their dining room table, eating a slice of pizza with extra hot sauce. He would have welcomed the mess.
Arthur visited the apothecary, the pet store, and stopped by several of her friend’s houses too. No sign of her on either the magical or Ordinary side.
He wracked his brain for additional places to search and came up empty.
At least Rosie hadn’t taken her bike. It was still parked in the corner of the living room. Since moving to Primrose Court, she hadn’t bothered with it. That was one less thing to worry about.
Arthur shook this broken thought from his head.
What was he thinking? Rosie was a dragon shifter.
With or without a bike, she had the gift of flight.
No wonder she’s been so fearless on it. Had she flown before?
He imagined her soaring undetected through the night skies of Boston and the pit of his stomach dropped, like he was the one in a free fall. Would her magic keep her cloaked?
Finally, at a loss for other places to look, he returned to Primrose Court. He sat on a park bench, watching the clouds above and searching frantically for a shadow, or any other sign. But there was nothing but the rustle of bare branches and the sound of the wind that whistled past them.
Unable to sit for very long, Arthur patrolled the park’s perimeter. His senses were on high alert. A night hawk’s scream. A snapped branch. Twice he shifted unintentionally when startled. The night was too quiet, otherwise. It reminded him of the eye of a hurricane.
Walking in circles, his thoughts swirled like storm clouds. Arthur reflected on the past, berating himself for not noticing Rosie’s differences sooner. Her smooth hairless skin and her proclivity for spice. What kind of father doesn’t notice these sorts of things?
He’d been wrong, cruel even, to be so angry with Maida. Arthur was ashamed of his reaction. It was unfair, and it wasn’t even indicative of how he really felt. If anything, he was grateful Rosie felt some sort of kinship with Maida.
He even found himself re-examining his thoughts about the Chan family.
All those years that Pearl was Rosie’s babysitter, he’d known that Rosie was a light in the old woman’s life.
He knew she looked forward to seeing his daughter as much as Rosie had looked forward to seeing her.
Their relationship was special. But he’d never understood, never dreamed of the reasons why.
On his fourth lap around the park, Arthur spied Will rushing out from the passage. The porter looked exhausted. He was holding a hoagie sandwich in one hand and a bottle of pop in the other.
“I came as soon as I could,” Will called out to Arthur. “I’ve just spoken to Maida.”
“What about the Director? Does Amrita know?” He didn’t know how much Maida had told Will about Rosie’s unusual gifts. He didn’t even know if she’d told Will anything.
“About Rosie running off with Bardo?” Will frowned. “Of course, Maida called both of us when we got to LA. That’s why I’m here.”
Maida clearly hadn’t told Will about Rosie being a dragon shifter. If she had, Will would be driving him mad, peppering him with questions right now.
“What did Amrita think?”
“About Rosie or Bardo?” Will took a big bite from the sandwich.
“Both.”
“That it’s worrisome they’ve disappeared, but the Society can’t get involved over every pair of teenagers that run off together.” Will looked apologetic. “I tried to get her to come back with me but she’s staying with Buffalo tonight. I think they’re planning to fly back here tomorrow.”
Arthur didn’t expect Amrita to drop everything for a runaway teenager, but of course Rosie was no Ordinary teenager. Then again, what could Amrita do, that they weren’t already doing?
“I’m not sure there’s much they can do to help,” Arthur said. “Rosie and Bardo could be anywhere.”
“Just give me a few moments to refuel and process, and I think I’ll be ready to port again.” Will polished off the sandwich. “We should probably head back to the Mudpuddle, though. Granny and Maida are making calls. They’re pretty worried about you too.”
Arthur wasn’t sure he deserved it. “I stormed out of there earlier,” he admitted. “I was so crazed with worry.” He still was, but his fear was no longer seeking a target.
“That’s understandable,” Will acknowledged. “You know, you’re the only one who expects you to be perfect, Arthur. Think about where you’d like me to take you. We’ll find her. I promise.”
“There’s something else you should know.” Arthur stopped walking. He’d made up his mind. He could trust Will, and if the porter was going to help, he needed to know the whole truth. “It’s about Rosie.”
It was well past suppertime when the small group assembled in the reading nook of the Mudpuddle. Granny made sandwiches for Arthur and Will, who was always hungry for more after porting.
Maida sat down next to Arthur and gave his hand a squeeze.
Such a small gesture, yet it made his knees weak. Her forgiveness was so easy, and so freely given. This was not something he’d ever experienced before, nor was it something he ever wanted to abuse.
“What’s next?” Will asked. “Can you think of anywhere else she might be?” He wiped his mouth and folded his napkin. “Just say the word.”
“I wish I knew where else to look,” Arthur admitted. His worry was becoming a palpable sensation now. His head ached with the weight of it and his heart ached with the overwhelming feeling of failure. It stuck in his throat, threatening to choke him. He was sick with that feeling.
Everyone was looking expectantly at him, waiting for their assignment, but his mind was blank.
“I really don’t know what to do,” Arthur admitted. “I don’t even know what to think. I think…” he considered it for a moment. The words felt strange in his mouth. “I think I need your help.”
“Of course.” Granny Luna nodded and patted his shoulder. “That’s what family is for. I’ll put on a kettle of tea.”
When the telephone on the countertop rang, Maida and Arthur both stood.
“I’ll get it,” Maida spoke firmly. The phone rang a second time, then a third, seeming louder and more insistent with each ring. “It might just be normal bookshop business,” she said over her shoulder.
Then again, Arthur thought it might not. It could be good news. Or it could be the most awful.
In the long seconds between the third and the fourth ring, time seemed to freeze. He was acutely aware of still living in a world full of possibilities. He was also acutely aware of how many possibilities could vanish in the time it took to take a breath.
“It’s for you.” Maida’s face was solemn as she held out the shiny black receiver. “Boston PD.”
Arthur closed his eyes, slowly exhaling all the air from his lungs.
He took a deep breath before placing the receiver to his ear.
He held the phone gingerly, as if that could influence the outcome of the call, and walked as far as the coiled tether allowed.
Then he turned to face the corner of the room, so nobody would see his face.
“I’m afraid I have bad news.” The voice on the other end was curt and to the point.
Arthur braced himself, fearing the worst. “It’s not about your daughter,” the officer quickly clarified.
“It’s about a friend of hers? She says his name is Bardo Chan.
We’ve just recovered his body from the river.
Your daughter is waiting for you here at the station. ”