A Boy and His Dragon (31 page)

Tomorrow, he decided, though he wasn’t sure he could tomorrow either. But he made himself think about it, adding household items Bertie was running out of instead of looking at the bruises and hickeys on his chest and the marks of fingernails at his wrists, and mentally writing out the order to the stacks of books around Bertie’s living room so Bertie would understand them, instead of thinking about how hollow he felt inside and how that dragon had looked, clinging to the balustrade and staring sadly down at him.

When he finally came out of the bathroom in just the same pair of jeans, Kate was standing in his bedroom doorway with her eyes averted and a cup of coffee in her hand. The fact that she’d actually made coffee from their carefully saved supply made him stop to swallow back everything but “Thanks.” He took the cup after R. Cooper

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throwing on a new shirt with long sleeves and Kate finally looked at him.

“Want breakfast?” she asked nicely, without any indication that she could see how upset he was. He shook his head, but it didn’t stop her from turning and heading back toward the kitchen.

“I’ll make eggs. They were on sale yesterday at the mercado down the street. I walked down to get some,” she explained over her shoulder, leaving Arthur to follow her. He took a sip of burning hot coffee and then put the mug down as soon as he could.

Kate reached up into the cabinet for one of their two pans.

“You went out?” Arthur cleared his throat. “That’s good.”

“Yeah, well. I felt like celebrating.” She rolled one shoulder, making the old T-shirt of his that she was wearing as pajamas fall a little bit. “They called me back to interview again. At the shop. I guess whoever they picked the first time didn’t work out.” She was trying to keep the excitement from her voice, but Arthur turned toward her after the first part and he could see the smile she was trying to fight.

“You’re serious? That’s great!” He didn’t care what she thought. He came forward to wrap his arms around her shoulders only to freeze when Kate reached up to put a hand on his arm.

“I don’t have the job yet,” she added after a few seconds and then pulled her hand away. Arthur took longer to step back, and by then she was watching him, so he spun around to go back to his coffee.

Kate didn’t let him take a sip before she spoke again. “What happened, Arthur?”

She sounded older than she was, a lot like their mother, and Arthur spent a minute thinking about what their mom would have thought of how they lived, what Arthur had done. It wasn’t any less painful than what Kate was asking.

“I’m in love with my boss,” he admitted to the cup after a while, and Kate made a sad but not exactly surprised sound. “Or ex-boss,” Arthur corrected himself and hated having to, “since I guess I A Boy and His Dragon

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can’t go back there.” He couldn’t go back to that house or to those books or to Bertie. They weren’t his. Maybe he’d been right all along; he wasn’t worthy of them. “He….”

“What? What did he do? Fucking
Beings
, just because they have some magic…,” Kate started but shut up when Arthur raised his head to glare at her.

“He didn’t do anything. I did it. It’s got nothing to do with his magic. Or….”

Arthur paused, frustrated and sick at how stupid he was. “I suppose it does.” He turned away when Kate looked startled so he could direct his anger back at himself where it belonged. “If there’s anything you should know about dragons, it’s that they love treasure.” He wanted to put a hand to his mouth but knew Kate was watching him. “They love it, but their treasure isn’t what everyone thinks it is.”

“Then what is it?” She was listening attentively now, not really as prejudiced against Beings as she’d pretended to be. She wanted to know about them as much as Arthur had.

“It’s… beautiful things, but it’s not gold or silver. It’s not jewels either. It’s not about money at all, just things bold and pure and brave.” He closed his eyes and ignored the crack in his voice.

“He wanted that to be me. He wanted
me
and I’m not… I failed him.”

“You’ve never failed anything in your life.” Any other time Arthur would have thought about teasing Kate for how fast she answered, but Arthur only opened his eyes to stare at the carpet because she was right. He’d never failed anything before. Naturally, he picked the worst time to come face to face with his limits. The moment he had an entire dragon naked and his for the taking, he’d focused on a single scale.

Bertie
should
be disappointed in him. Arthur shivered and leaned into the counter at the memory of Bertie’s eyes. He couldn’t think of them without seeing the shining disappointment, the heavy expectation that hadn’t lessened when Arthur started his rambling explanations. Only in those last few moments when Arthur had been R. Cooper

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so incredibly stupid to say what he did had he glimpsed anything else in those liquid depths. The world had been wet and shimmering, the air thick with heat. Arthur hadn’t seen anything clearly, but he knew that Bertie was kind, not fierce, and softhearted when he should be angry. It had probably been pity that stopped him. Pity for Arthur admitting that he loved him, for Arthur not being good enough.

“What?” Kate stepped closer as if Arthur had said some of that out loud. He glanced over and resisted the urge to wipe at his stinging, hot cheeks. His eyes burned. “Not good enough?” she repeated furiously and came at him with her fists clenched at her sides. Arthur had the fleeting thought that he must have looked similar in the second before he punched her boyfriend in the face, but forgot about it when she raised her voice. He hadn’t seen her so emotional in a long time.

“Kate, you don’t understand what I did,” he tried.

Kate shut him down with a brutality that shocked him quiet. “I don’t need to, because I get that you messed up and that you’ve never done that before, Arthur. You don’t disappoint people; you’d wear yourself down to nothing first. But trust me, messing up? The rest of us do it all the time. You only failed when you ran away.” She crossed her arms. “If your writer dragon boss is as smart as you insist that he is, if he is as smart as I know
you
are, he should know that.”

“I—” Arthur swallowed, not sure what he wanted to say at all.

He frowned, but Kate’s glare didn’t let up. “I could have stolen from him.” Not that he had. He wouldn’t, and he’d realized that his first day, in that first minute. He had realized that before he knew the truth about dragons and their scales. It wasn’t in him, and he would never have risked hurting Bertie, not for anything.

“Did you?” Kate’s eyes went wide but she relaxed slightly when Arthur shook his head to deny taking anything from the house.

“Then why did he tell you to leave?”

Arthur felt his throat lock up. The house had been an inferno, raging with everything unspoken, feelings strong enough to knock him from his feet. But Bertie himself, a midnight black dragon with A Boy and His Dragon

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wounded eyes, hadn’t done anything but say his name. “Arthur,” he said in that rough bark after his gaze swept over Arthur’s shirt and jeans and shoes and after Arthur flinched away from him. He hadn’t told Arthur to leave at all.

“He didn’t,” Arthur realized out loud, then turned to blink at his sister for one panicked second before spinning around to find his shoes. “Shit.” He had to go back.

“Arthur?” Kate followed him with a question in her voice but she handed him his jacket without a word and pushed his bike back toward the door while Arthur was struggling to hold onto the helmet. So much for him being smart. Whatever Kate thought, Arthur was clearly an idiot. He flung the door open wide and stopped dead to see Bertie across the threshold.

“Arthur.” Bertie froze too. He had one hand up as if he’d been debating knocking on the door when Arthur had opened it, but he lowered it after a few seconds and ran a nervous touch along his coat.

It was a chilly morning and Bertie was his own furnace, but of course he was wearing a long coat and a scarf. They were both probably impossibly soft to the touch and cost more than Arthur’s rent for two months and would have made Bertie stand out in their dirty old apartment complex even if he hadn’t been glittering and beautiful.

Arthur thought Bertie had showered too, or at least cleaned up.

His face was dark and shadowed, but he had on one of his dress shirts and black dress pants that looked crisp and pressed. Arthur was conscious that he was in a T-shirt and jeans and his skin and hair were still damp. He wasn’t blushing; he was too terrified for that.

“You’re here,” he said faintly, and remembered his sister only when she shifted behind him.

“You said you wanted to be my boy.” Bertie exhaled it as if it was the only thing he could think to say and then left the words to drift through the air without qualifying them. Maybe to him that was reason enough to get dressed and drive across town after someone R. Cooper

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who had run away from him. But even with the heat in his voice, Bertie was shivering.

“Would you like to come in?” Kate offered without warning, making Arthur jump. She pushed his bike back against the wall before he could respond.

“Ah. Yes, if you don’t mind. It’s rather brisk out here.” Bertie glanced at Arthur before he stepped inside and then stopped past the threshold to look at Arthur again. His eyes had Arthur hypnotized.

Bertie was waiting again, waiting for Arthur to do something.

Arthur absently closed the door and then stood there, watching Bertie look around the little apartment.

Arthur knew what he’d see: the couch that was clearly also Kate’s bed, the tiny kitchen, the lack of any other real furnishings except for the bed in the tiny bedroom, which was just visible since they’d left the door open.

It wasn’t much warmer inside the apartment than outside.

Bertie shivered again and finally looked over at Kate, but it was only for a second and then his eyes were back on Arthur.

“Arthur,” he said again in a low enough rumble that Kate might not have heard it. Arthur looked back at him and then cleared his throat. He let his bike helmet fall to the floor.

“Bertie.” He squared his shoulders and moved back and out of the way so Bertie could come forward. Then he turned to look at Kate, who looked at him like she’d never seen him before. It made him feel warm, as if there was something different about him now that Kate could see and that she liked.

There wasn’t anything Arthur wouldn’t do to keep her happy, no matter how much it might terrify him. He swung his gaze back to Bertie.

“Bertie.” The name was soft in his mouth, but Arthur could hear the weight in his words that said he was offering up his treasure. Kate might not understand it, but he knew Bertie would.

“Bertie, this is my sister, Kate.” Bertie must have heard and understood, because his expression brightened with interest as Arthur went on and said the rest. His hands, his pockets, his mouth, A Boy and His Dragon

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all felt empty without Bertie there. He shivered. “Kate, this is Dr.

Philbert Jones.”

“Please, call me Bertie,” Bertie told Kate and took his eyes off Arthur again to study her. Arthur kept his gaze right where it was, watching the wicked grin grow wider when Kate hesitated but then extended her hand for a handshake. Bertie looked over her messy, pillow-styled blonde hair, stared for a moment longer into her blue eyes, and then dropped the grin for a real smile. He didn’t lick his lips, but he did inhale. “I can’t tell you how pleased I am to meet you.”

Kate didn’t say anything to that, not even to agree to call him Bertie, but when the handshake was over she stood there for another second to frown at him. If anything, that only made Bertie seem more pleased.

“Arthur wouldn’t steal anything.” If Kate was afraid of the fire-breathing creature in front of her, Arthur couldn’t see it. He didn’t know if Bertie could, because Bertie wasn’t looking at him.

He inclined his head at Kate, the way he had when Arthur first met him and promised to work hard for him.

“Have you tried telling Arthur that?” Bertie asked Kate seriously, though his attention was on Arthur. Arthur flinched and scowled at him.

“I wouldn’t,” Arthur insisted again, finding his voice at least.

Bertie’s smile drifted away.

“I know, pet.” He didn’t seem to see Kate’s lips part at the nickname. “You wouldn’t, and you wouldn’t need to in any case.”

“What do you mean?” Arthur’s heart was racing. He had yelled at Bertie that he hadn’t intended to steal the scale and Bertie had implied that he’d known that all along. Now Bertie was telling him something that would probably make perfect sense to a dragon and no one else.

For the first time in a few minutes, Bertie licked his lips and looked hesitant. He held out his hand and offered it, palm up, to Arthur. “Why would you steal what I would give you?” He spoke formally but rolled his shoulders in an uncertain gesture and R. Cooper

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Arthur’s eyes wandered over his shoulders, thinking of his back, of the dozens of large scales and the one that was missing, and if that was true.

Arthur shook his head. “I don’t want one of your scales. Not that one, not any of them.” Another thought occurred to him and he put a hand to his stomach. “Don’t,” he ordered fiercely. “Don’t pull one out for me either.” Just the idea of Bertie ripping out a scale for any reason made him sick. He shook his head again. “Even if it doesn’t hurt”—though somehow he was sure it did—“don’t. I would never ask you to.”

“It’s little more than a fingernail clipping, Arthur,” Bertie remarked, his voice low and rich with something he wasn’t saying.

Arthur snorted, because he doubted that losing a scale was anything at all like clipping a fingernail, but then Bertie blinked and didn’t say anything else and Arthur realized he was still waiting. Waiting for something, some reaction from Arthur that Arthur couldn’t say now.

He looked over at Kate, who had a strange expression on her face, as if she didn’t know what to make of any of that. But she finally shut her mouth and stared back at him. Her cheeks were slightly pink, her expression a little flustered.