Chapter Forty-Five – The Dragon’s Favorite Strays
Chapter Forty-Five
DAKOTA
I scan the parking lot with my binoculars, but my brain is busy dreaming of kisses and warm golden skin and even warmer golden eyes. I’m so focused on the thought of kisses that when I hear the shrill sound of a whistle, it makes me jump. Biting back a swear word or seven, I lean forward, looking for the culprit. I can see further with the binoculars, but they feel limiting and I ditch them.
A blur moves at the far side of the parking lot, nowhere near the diner. I squint, just in time to catch someone on a bicycle riding away. I don’t get a good look at them because there are at least a dozen broken-down cars between them and where I am, but I’m pretty sure there’s no dog.
Aggie shouts, and the whistle blows again.
“Get him,” I bellow, even though that’s exactly what we’re trying to do. I surge for the window, adrenaline surging through my system. “Someone get him!”
At the same time that I shout, Murr’s dragon form explodes into view. His wings unfurl atop the roof and then he’s diving like a hawk, chasing after the bicycle. With a hoot of delight, I climb through the window after them.
Or I try to. My foot gets caught on the bolted-down table and my crossbow lodges in the hem of my t-shirt. Instead of slithering through the window, I end up tumbling to the ground and smacking my chin into the asphalt. Grace, thy name is Dakota.
Everything throbs, and my face feels like it’s been flattened. I roll onto my back, spread eagled in the weeds that spring up in the asphalt cracks. This is how I die, I think dramatically as I stare up at the sky. In a parking lot, tripping over my own two feet.
There’s a ferocious dragon roar, and it sounds angry. It’s followed by the sound of a man screaming.
I sit up, my head throbbing, as Murr circles overhead. He’s got Curtis in his claws, but his gaze is on me. His eyes are whirling black and he settles down onto the ground a short distance away, and reaches for me.
“I’m fine,” I protest, as a big dragon hand — foot? — wraps around my waist. I’m lifted into the air and Murr’s snout runs up and down my front, breathing in my scent. “Get the nomad, Murr. I’m not what’s important right now.”
A big, wet dragon tongue drags over my cheek. Urgh. Somewhere, there’s a muffled man’s bellow of outrage, but I can’t tell where it’s coming from.
“Mom? Are you okay?” Rabbit comes running up to Murr, fearless. “Your face is bleeding! What happened?”
“I tripped and fell,” I try to explain as Murr keeps nosing me. I push at his face, trying to glance down at the ground. “Where’s Curtis? Where’s the nomad?”
She puts her hands to her face, shielding her eyes as she gazes up at me. “It’s all good, Murr’s standing on top of him.”
“We don’t want him dead. Just captive.” I grab one of Murr’s nostrils and try to look him in the eye. “Not dead, hear me?”
He snorts, but I notice the darkness in his eyes seems to be fading away.
“You can set me down now,” I suggest, and stroke his nostril to make up for manhandling it. “I’m fine. Really.”
Murr doesn’t set me down, though. He continues to hold me in his talons, clutching me to his chest as he sits upright like a roosting cat and waits for Aggie and Dottie to join us. The two women seem to take forever to arrive, and I watch them crossing the parking lot, and all the while, Murr nuzzles my hair and holds me tight in a dragon paw that’s the size of a mattress. Rabbit sits on the hood of a nearby car and kicks her legs, waiting. She seems completely unbothered by the fact that I’m being clutched like a teddy bear by a giant dragon.
I guess there’s no way to keep this thing between Murr and me very secret. If he acts like this when I scrape my chin, how’s he going to be when something seriously bad happens?
“You can come down now,” Dottie says, wheezing as she collapses against the nearest car. “We’re here.”
As if I’m in this spot on purpose? I tug on Murr’s claws, but he’s not releasing me. “This…wasn’t…my idea. Someone check on our nomad. See if he’s alive.”
Aggie mops her brow with an old, wrinkled red handkerchief. Her wig is askew again, but her expression is determined as she approaches Murr’s powerful hind legs. I lean over the side of the dragon’s hand so I can see things, and underneath Murr’s claws, I see a utility boot and part of a leg. Aggie moves towards the leg and kicks it.
The man flails, yelling again. “Let me go! Let me go, you dragon-loving bitches!”
Aggie squints up at me. “He’s alive.”
“What now?” Rabbit asks.
“Now we torture him until he admits where he’s got Stella,” Dottie says, and pulls out a pair of pliers.
“Guys!” I yelp, becuse torturing was not on the docket. I hammer on Murr’s claw, shooting a worried look at my daughter. “No one is torturing anyone. I have a teenager here!”
Aggie gazes up at me. “You’re right.” She turns to Rabbit. “Look away, honey.”
“No torture,” I bellow again.
