82. Helena #3
Leroix watched and an expression flickered across his face that conveyed more warmth than Helena expected. He seemed almost . . . amused.
“It seems like your little beastie was indeed playing,” Leroix conceded. “Albeit with the wrong target. She may live. Run along now, Little Beastie. Back to your false mother.”
Lovey seemed to respect the tone that Leroix had taken, because she indeed ran back and positioned herself snugly between Helena and Bertram.
Bertram reached down and gave Lovey a reassuring scratch behind the ears.
Leroix jerked his head toward Bertram. “This is the man I will give to you in marriage?”
“Oh. Well.” Helena blushed. “That is not how I would have put it.“ Helena turned to Bertram. “I—I did not tell him that he should give you to me in marriage. That was his interpretation of me saying I love you—“
Leroix swished his tail. “So do you not wish to save my life for the chance to be with him?”
“No, I—uh. Yes. This is who I’m marrying,” Helena said, not meeting Bertram’s eyes.
“Save his life?” Bertram asked, graciously ignoring the surprise marriage aspect.
“He has a scale cyst, I think. I told him I can help.” Helena brightened suddenly and turned to Leroix. “Wait, can I send Bertram to get the things I need? I’ll stay here with you, but he can go—“
“He knows as much as you do,” Leroix said. “No one leaves.”
“Fuck.” Helena buried her face in her hands.
“What do you need?” Bertram asked, steadying Helena with his hands on her shoulders.
“The vetmed kit, with the Midsummer tools Hippolyta sent.”
“You put it all in the same first med kit, right?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Because I brought it with me, in case you were hurt.” Bertram smiled. He turned to Leroix. “Can I go—not leave, just go to the mouth of the cave?”
“Members of my court will accompany you. Should you try to flee, they will roast you.”
Two dragons, one emerald and one brown, walked Bertram to the mouth of the cave. Bertram brought Diana’s bicycle into the cave. He opened the crate attached to the back and pulled out the first aid kit.
Helena breathed a sigh of relief. “Bertram, will you assist me?”
“Always,” Bertram promised.
Helena put on gloves and gestured for Bertram to do the same. She stood before Leroix—stood and not knelt, because he was so large that the cyst on his chest was nearly eye-level. Helena dared not touch it yet, but she did look closely.
The area was swollen, and between scales, puss oozed out of the wound. From the surface area and arc of the bump, she had the sense that the cyst was massive.
“Fuck, I’m really going to need to cut into him,” Helena muttered. “I don’t think the spray is going to do it.”
Leroix grumbled. “Of what do you speak?”
“I have a numbing spray,” Helena said. “A pretty strong one. But I think I may have to go deep to cut this out. And obviously I can’t put you under anesthesia. So, this may hurt.”
“I care not,” said Leroix. “Though if I scream in pain, know that you may be involuntarily torched.”
“Oh. Okay. No big deal then.” Helena swallowed. “Try not to torch me, if possible.”
“If it were possible for me not to torch you, it would not be involuntary.”
Helena heard a deep sigh from behind her.
“I can do it.”
Helena turned to see Diana step forward out of the shadows.
Leroix hissed. There was a great rumbling from his court behind him. “The Puck.”
“Of Merry Wanderer Couriers, serving day and night,” Diana said with a bow.
“Where is your master, faerie?” Leroix asked, his tone vitriolic.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” said Diana. “First of all, I never had a ‘Master.’ Ew. Hard pass, no thanks, have always been very independent.”
“Not from what I recall,” said Leroix.
“Yeah, well, you recall wrong,” Diana said, easily. “And since the Great Merge, I’ve been one hundred percent self-employed. Your quarrel is with my previous Mas—employer—not with me. And I work alone now.”
Leroix narrowed his eyes at the pixie. “And you expect me to believe that you are no longer up to your old tricks, Robin Goodfellow?”
Diana gasped and pressed a hand to her heart, wounded. “Upon going independent, I have played nary a prank, stirred up no chaos, and absolutely beyond a shadow of a doubt stayed away from anything that could be considered ‘shenanigans.’ “
“And why should I believe that?” Leroix hissed.
“Why, you have two of my most consistent recent employers right here!” Diana smiled broadly and with confidence.
“I alone have been able to reach Mount Folio to bring them supplies and have done so with unfailing punctuality and professionalism. At their bidding, I went above and beyond my courier duties to single-handedly teach Lovatch to fly—the evidence of my success being that Lovatch was able to fly this far to find you in tracking down her human mother. If you wish a testimonial, I’m sure Bertram and Helena can attest to the truth of my words. ”
“Yes, there have been no shenanigans,” Helena agreed, without hesitation.
“Nor any pranks or chaos,” Bertram added. “Just sincerity and professionalism.”
“See?” Diana gestured. “So, if you’ll allow me to put you under, I’m sure Doctor de Narbon can make this much more pleasant.
And if she doesn’t succeed, she and Bertram die, and they’re my friends, and I don’t want that, so there’s your guarantee that I, too, will have the utmost regard for your safety. ”
“Your words mean nothing.” Leroix shook his head. “Never was there a friendship with the Puck that could not be turned over in a moment for the sake of some small entertainment.”
Diana’s mouth fell open slightly.
There was a long silence, and Helena got the distinct feeling that for once Diana wasn’t acting—Leroix’s words had struck home.
“Then add my life to the list of collateral,” Diana said, after a moment. “If you die under Helena’s care, have them kill me too.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Helena said.
“No, he’s right. I have a bad habit of losing friends. I’m not about to let a good one die . . . particularly when I know we won’t.” Diana winked.
“You are so confident in the human doctor’s abilities?” Leroix asked.
“Mostly human,” Diana corrected. “And yes. No prank, no trick, no shenanigan. Just unwavering faith in my friend.”
Emotion bubbled up in Helena’s chest, both extreme gratitude for Diana’s belief in her, and terror that it might be misplaced.
Leroix turned and addressed his fellow dragons in low hisses and rumbles before turning his attention back to his guests.
“I have told my court that I will allow you to put me to sleep,” Leroix said, “and that they should not attack unless I die, at which point all three of you are to be burned to a crisp. Now, Robin Goodfellow—what was it you were calling yourself these days? Dinah?”
“Diana,” she corrected. “But call me what you wish; it’ll all change soon enough anyway.”
“Very well, Puck Called Diana. Do what you must.” Leroix took a deep breath and extended his neck, lowering himself until his head rested flat on the floor.
There was such vulnerability, such trust in the posture. Helena’s spark of hope that they might get out of this alive burst into a tiny flame.
“Would you mind rolling over, please?” Helena asked. “So, we can get to your chest.”
Leroix said nothing, simply flopped over to his side, head still resting on the ground.
“Good, Helena?” Diana asked.
Helena nodded, then said quietly to Diana: “Are you sure . . . are you sure you can do this? And that you can wake him up?”
Diana smiled. “If I have faith in your healing skills, Doctor de Narbon, then you must have faith that the Puck can rouse the dreamer from their dream.”
Diana walked over to the dragon’s massive head and knelt down before him. She took a purple flower from her pocket and squeezed it above Leroix’s open eye, speaking in a hypnotic voice as she did:
“Wyrm, upon thy eyes I throw
All the power this charm doth owe.
On this dark and secret ground
Find you quickly sleeping sound.
Let your court take rest with you
And not awake ’til healing’s through
Stay asleep ’til Hel is done
Or of her cure you will have none.”
Leroix’s limbs fell heavily to the ground as all tension left his body.
This was followed by a series of thuds—all around them, dragons of every shape and size fell fast asleep.
There was a long moment of silence.
“What the fuck, Diana?” Helena asked.
Diana shrugged. “I trust that Leroix told his court not to interfere, but I didn’t trust that they would listen. Certain lesser wyrms cannot possibly comprehend the idea of surgery, and I fear their instinct to protect their king would take over.”
“No, I figured,” said Helena. “What I mean is what the fuck, Diana? Maybe I’m off on this because I’m coming from a mostly human perspective, but did you not just do insanely powerful magic like it was nothing?”
“You’re not off,” Bertram said. “I’ve never seen—never heard of—anything quite like that. Not from anyone but the most powerful sorcerers, or gods, or—“
“I’m no god,” Diana said.
“What are you?” Helena whispered.
“I am the echoes of a story you can never read,” said Diana, her eyes filled with the flame of the unknowable.
“I . . .” Bertram started but trailed off.
“Listen.” Diana clapped her hands and smiled. “If we’re all agreed I did tricky magic, perhaps it is best not to see how far we can push its limits, hmm? Less prying, more healing dragons, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Helena said faintly.
Helena knelt by Leroix’s chest and turned to see Bertram already handing her the Midsummer pliers.
“Thank you,” Helena said. She bit her lip as she brought the tool closer to the infected cyst. “Oh, this is going to be so unpleasant.”
“But better than being eaten by a dragon,” Bertram said.
“He wasn’t going to eat me!” Helena said defensively. “Just kill me!”
“Oh, right, that’s okay then.” Bertram rolled his eyes.
Helena grabbed one of the scales in Leroix’s swollen flesh, clamping down hard with the pliers. She grit her teeth together and closed her eyes as she pulled.
Nothing happened.