The Lost Dragon Princess

Chapter 10

As I walked out, Pariah was ignoring her food and pulling her small laptop off the side table. Judging by the determined expression on her face, she meant to do some research. I hoped she wouldn’t wear herself out obsessing over what I’d told her. And I hoped I would actually be able to do something to help.

Twilight fell, and the rain turned to a light mist that dampened my cheeks but didn’t soak through my clothing as I walked several blocks from where I found parking to Pariah’s Roosevelt neighborhood apartment. Even though it was past rush hour, traffic was still a snarl. I watched a guy who was trying to parallel park a Hummer give up after crunching someone’s bumper, then cause a spate of honking as he rushed back to leave a note on the other vehicle’s windshield. Two smart cars that were only slightly larger than scooters zipped into the abandoned space.

I watched the situation longer than I usually would have because I’d had a niggling sense, since stepping out of the government car, that I was being watched. Since I wasn’t a novice, I refrained from glancing over my shoulder repeatedly. I took a few steps down a quieter side street and pretended to check messages on my phone, while leaning against a brick wall and waiting to see if anyone suspicious rounded the corner.

So far, I hadn’t seen anyone. It was just my instincts twanging my nerves. Considering how many times enemies had hunted me down in my life, those instincts were well honed.

Had Lieutenant Mood ordered someone to stalk me and steal back the keys to his car? I’d expected it to have been towed away while I was in the hospital, or at least to find a police officer leaning against it when I came out. Maybe Mood had been too embarrassed to admit to his superiors that he’d let me drive off with it, and was handling the situation in an unconventional way.

Later, I’d see if I could put the down p*****t on a new-used Jeep with the combat bonus money. The partial bonus money. If I had told my Dad about the car then he would by me another without any question but I preferred to not have it his way. I mean it felt good to have someone who had my back but sometimes I felt like I was leeching off him and I did not deserve all the love and the care that he bestowed on me.

I had to finish this off early because I had promised him that we would have dinner together. Most of the nights I had cold pizza heated up in the microwave but I thought it would be good to sit down with him and have a conversation heart to heart.

The year before, I’d paid nearly ten thousand dollars for the charm that had kept me from being charred into a s’more by that dragon’s fire. It had been worth it. If my Dad knew that I was spending my allowances and prize money on this I knew he would skewer me alive..

Nobody came around the corner to look for me, so I put my phone away and continued on a less direct route toward Pariah’s apartment.

After another block, I paused to consider the acupuncture and massage services advertised on the window of an old house converted into a business. Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed someone in black pants and a black parka with the hood pulled up. When I scratched my jaw and looked that way casually but more directly, the person was gone. For a moment, I thought I sensed…

No, there was nothing.

After passing through the small parking lot behind Pariah’s building—where numerous signs informed me that anyone without a permit would be towed while also thanking me and wishing me a nice day—I paused at the bottom of the exterior stairs. Nobody was nearby. I touched my feline charm and whispered for Damas to join me. I had understood that this was one of the charms that would become very necessary for me in the days to come.

The familiar mist formed, and the jaguar coalesced on the cracked pavement.

It’s about time. Damas swished his tail and looked straight at me. I’ve been wondering if you survived the dragon.

I’m sorry. I should have brought you back right away to check on you, but I figured you had been injured and needed time to heal. As I’d learned in the past, the magic that linked Damas to the figurine could only keep him in this world for a few hours at a time, and if he was wounded, he had to stay in his own realm longer to recuperate.

Pets! If jaguars had eyebrows, his would have shot up higher than his ears.

I’m sorry. Are you considered more of a service animal?

I am Damas Dargoth Chaser the Third, Son of the Chieftain Saraul, Feared Stalker and Hunter of the Tangled Tundra Nation on Del’noth.

So… not a service animal?

An ambassador, if anything. Pet. His blue eyes squinted at me. I should gnaw off your foot for that.

I thought you couldn’t eat anything in this realm.

I wouldn’t eat it. I’d just leave it in that ditch over there for the carrion birds.

You’re in quite the mood this evening. I decided not to ask if male jaguars had anything equivalent to PMS.

Because I feared you were dead. And that you died in the ocean where my figurine would never be recovered, meaning I could never travel from my native realm again.

Again, I’m sorry. Next time, I’ll definitely recall you right away if you leave when I’m in danger of being mauled by a dragon.

Good. Do.

Is being the most regal son of a chieftain not as wonderful as it sounds? I asked as we headed up the stairs to the third floor. The rain was picking up, so I wanted to get under the covered walkway.

It’s not horrible, but there are six older sons who can be twits. The hunting is lovely where I grew up though. Did you know there’s an elf following us?

I almost tripped on someone’s doormat and glanced back before I caught myself.

She’s using stealth. You may not see her. Your senses aren’t as sublime as mine.

I thought someone was following me. An elf? I made myself keep walking toward Pariah’s door. Are you sure? I’ve never seen an elf. But I read that they hadf once come to earth for some purpose and then they had left. They had told something being about this land not having enough magic to sustain them at all.

One has returned to stalk you.

Why?

You’d have to ask her.

Will you help me capture her? If this was the same person I’d seen in the parka, she was fast and elusive.

She’s already leaving. I think she knows that I can sense her. Damas faced the rear parking lot, the alley I’d cut through to reach it, and roared. It sounded partially like a warning and partially a threat.

“s**t, what was that?” someone who’d just driven into the lot yelled, sticking his head out the window and staring up at us.

The lighting on the walkway hadn’t come on yet, and twilight and the mist made it hard to see details. Hopefully, he couldn’t tell Damas wasn’t a large dog. I’d wandered around in public with him before, but not without attracting a lot of notice and having to awkwardly deflect questions. Someone had accused me of illegally breeding white jaguars, even though Damas was clearly and beautifully silver.

“Just my service animal,” I called down. “He’s feeling frisky tonight.”

Your foot is in so much danger. Damas planted his large paw on top of it, but he did not proceed to gnaw it off.

The man swore, rolled up his window, and didn’t get out of his car.

You’re not here to scare people. I need you to help me find proof of magical tampering in Colonel Pariah’s apartment. I summed up the details for him as I held my lock-picking charm with one hand and placed the other hand against her door. Dwarven made, the charm was for removing minor enchantments and traps from magical gates, but when I’d locked myself out of my apartment once and tried it on a whim, I’d learned it could remove impediments to mundane entrances too.

Will the small feline be there?

No, the neighbor is caring for it.

Very good. Last time, it tried to pick a fight with me while hiding under the bed. The hissing and spitting and fur-raising was ridiculously melodramatic. It is not as if I would eat a fellow predator or the mushy gunk in her food dish.

I don’t think Lily liked you either. By the way, if you could refrain from leaving your scent all over the apartment, Colonel Pariah would appreciate it.

I wasn’t planning to lift my leg on the couch.

Pariah and I both appreciate that, but I just mean, you know, if you could refrain from shedding or shaking off. Leaving skin or fur or whatever would disturb the cat. I’m not supposed to bring you inside.

Hmmph.

The door opened. I paused in the threshold, flicking on the lights and waiting to see if anything plucked at my senses. The last time I’d been here, a hint of lemon and vinegar and natural cleaning detergents had hung in the air, but according to Pariah, it had been a couple of weeks since she’d been home. A thin layer of dust marked the wood surfaces, and even though everything was tidy and put away, it definitely felt like nobody had been inside for a while. I wondered if we would truly find anything.

After a single sniff, Damas wandered in. I watched him, suspicious that he would leave some intimidating sign of his presence that would bother the house cat when she returned home, but he merely sat on the rug in the living area and looked around. The place was as I remembered. Various sports equipment hung on racks near the door, a bicycle dangled upside down from ceiling mounts in one corner, and martial-arts trophies shared space with books on a case behind the couch.

Pariah’s apartment wasn’t by any chance a large one, so it should be easy to search. I wandered into the adjacent kitchen and dining room, the faded carpet clean but old. Pariah would have had a house to herself if she’d lived on base, but I couldn’t blame her for not wanting to commute through Tacoma and Seattle every day going to and from Fort Lewis.

Not sure what I was looking for, I poked into drawers and peered under the table and into cabinets. I found a pair of Garfield coffee mugs next to a fancy espresso maker and suspected the slippers hadn’t represented only the niece’s tastes. There were Flintstones pint glasses in a cabinet, and I found a cat dish with Smurfs on it. It seemed my no-nonsense boss had a fondness for the cartoons of her youth. I knew she’d been a drill sergeant before switching to the officer route, and amused myself by imagining her barking at privates rappelling down the Victory Tower while sipping from a Garfield mug.