Chapter Thirteen – The Dragon’s Favorite Strays

Chapter Thirteen

 

DAKOTA

“Murr? You okay?” I dust off my hands and move to the back of the old pharmacy, alarmed by the hissing noise that came from him.

He turns to look at me, eyes wild and swirling with black, his hands bent to make his claws like sickles. Smoke trickles from his nostrils and his shoulders are heaving.

It scares me a little, and I hesitate, my hands going up protectively. Shit. I left my bat next to the shopping basket. I’d let my guard down, because Murr has been so normal and human-seeming despite his strange golden appearance. The sight of those whirling eyes reminds me that he is very much not human, though, and a chill goes down my spine.

Murr growls low in his throat, then turns slowly. The spikes on the backs of his arms flex and he swipes at the air with his claws again. I see nothing there, however. After a moment, he leans over and stabs his claws into a cardboard standee of a pharmacy employee.

Or at least, the lower half of one. It’s clear he has no idea what to make of it. I take a step forward and he automatically moves, blocking me from whatever threat he thinks the standee is.

He’s protecting me.

“Hey, hey,” I say in a calm voice. “It’s okay. That’s just an image of someone. They’re not really here.”

“Dakotah,” he growls, putting his hand up to halt me.

“No, really, it’s fine.” I take a few more hesitant steps forward, and touch his hand with mine when I get close enough. I lower it gently, and continue to creep forward. “It’s all just a big misunderstanding. Let me show you.”

Not taking my eyes off him, I slowly pick up the cardboard cutout and hold it up. He growls again but I turn it to the side and show him that it’s flat. “It’s not a person. It’s just a picture.”

He clearly doesn’t understand. He takes the cardboard in hand, and then tries looking behind it, as if he can see where the ‘man’ is hiding. It’s adorable in a way, but I get his frustration. How do I explain a photo when we have so few words between us?

I think for a moment, and then take his hand. “It’s like a mirror, a bit. Come on, I’ll show you.”

He looks down at my hand on his, where I’ve grabbed him for a second time. For a moment, I think he’s going to jerk away, but instead, he curls his fingers tighter around mine, his claws just gently scraping against my skin. He’s incredibly warm, his hand hard and big, enveloping mine like an oven mitt. I take a few wobbly steps over the spilled mess on the pharmacy floors and point to the door in the back, where the bathroom is located.

Luckily, the door is still on its hinges and there’s another hole in the roof here. It means the bathroom floor is mucky and full of debris and twigs, and there’s a bird’s nest perched atop the corner of one bathroom stall. But there’s enough light to see by, and I head inside and swipe my hand over the mirror to wipe the dust away.

“Mirror,” I tell Murr. “See it?”

He jerks in surprise the moment he sees the reflections, and I watch his eyes go black instantly again. Uh oh.

“It’s okay,” I tell him. “Look!”

And I put my thumb to my nose and wiggle my spread fingers like I’m one of the Three Stooges.

Murr looks at me in shock, then back to the mirror. I flap my arms like a chicken, and then wave a hand, making my movements dramatic so he can see that the mirror reflects each one. After flicking a few glances back and forth, he lifts a hand tentatively, and then looks down in fascination when he sees it reflected. After a few motions of his hand, he approaches the mirror and touches it.

“It’s glass,” I tell him, and tap on it. “It’s not real. It’s us, but not.”

He points a claw at my reflection, then at me. “Dakotah…Dakotah?”

Is he asking if there’s two of me? “Just one.” I pat my chest. “Dakota.”

His eyes narrow and he looks back to the mirror. He tries to peer around the side, and then knocks on the front of it.

Oooh, that gives me an idea. I indicate that he should wait here, and then rush back to my bag to get the small compact I carry everywhere with me. Not that I’m vain enough to need a mirror wherever I go — but small bits like that are good bargaining tools or gifts if I run into other humans, and so I always keep one on me. I retrieve it and head back to the bathroom, where Murr is leaning over the counter and has his ear to the mirror, listening.

“It’s a reflection,” I tell him, and pop the compact open, showing him the small mirror inside. “See?”

He takes it from me, eyeing his face in it, then in the larger mirror. He turns the compact over and over, as if trying to ‘catch’ the person on the inside. His brows furrow and he glances up at me. “Murr…no?”

Oh, did he learn the word for no? That helps. I touch the mirror. “Murr no.” I touch the compact. “Murr no.” I touch his chest. “Murr yes. Understand?”

Murr nods slowly, then taps the compact. “Murr no?”

“Right. That’s a reflection. Reflection.”

“Reefessun,” he agrees, then squints at the image in the mirror, as if noticing the way his mouth moved for the first time. “Reefshun.”

Hmm. I worry I’m giving him the wrong word. I circle the entire compact in the air with my finger. “Reflection.” Then I point at my mouth. “Lips.”

He tilts his head, fascinated. “Lifffs.”

“Lips,” I repeat again, touching my mouth. “Dakota lips.” Then so it’s clear, I reach out and touch a fingertip to the corner of his mouth. “Lips. Murr lips.”

“Liffs,” Murr says again. He touches my nose, a question in his eyes.

“Nose,” I tell him.

“Nowd,” he parrots, then points at his mouth once more. “Liffs.”

For the next few minutes, we go over the features of the face, with Murr repeating each word I give him. He pronounces them all badly, swallowing his syllables as if he doesn’t know how to make sounds work at all. He’s trying, though, and he’s got a good memory. By the time we’ve covered everything, he’s able to repeat them all back to me with perfect recognition. He’s certainly not stupid, just unfamiliar with the English language. I’ve never heard him speak anything else, so I wonder if he’s got a different way of speaking to his people. Aren’t there languages with whistling and tongue-pops in lieu of words? Maybe it’s something like that.

“Dakotah,” he says, pulling my attention back to him. “Lips…haha?” He bares his teeth in his approximation of a grin and gives a forced laugh. Then he stops, eyeing me and waiting.

“You want that word? There’s a few, actually.” I make a smile with exaggerated detail, putting my fingers in the corners of my mouth and dramatically raising them. “Smile.”

“Smmiihh,” he repeats, flashing his sharp teeth.

Well, that’s more of a grin but I don’t want to argue semantics with someone that’s trying so hard. I nod and repeat the word for smile, then deliberately laugh. “Laugh.”

“Laugh,” I agree.

“Laff,” he says again, and then mimics my laugh in such a ridiculous way that it makes me burst into fresh giggles. The expression on his face changes to one of sheer delight, so pleased he can make me chuckle.