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Dragon Heights, Wyoming
I had been tricked as I’d suspected when first given the bulging envelope. Five twenties on the top and bottom of the stack offered the illusion of a nice wad of cash, but in reality, nestled between the bills were more than a few checks, each one addressed to me. Every check bore a different amount, came from a different account, and had been signed by a different dragon or dragon-kin. The memos offered some clues for why I received the funding.
Phillip’s check gave me a thousand dollars due to the successful breeding of the little bastard toad with his new girlfriend. A sticky note adhered to the check informed me that the species counted as critically endangered, and that their slime held significance in certain medical treatments. Another note promised no animals were harmed during the gathering of said slime.
Several other checks also paid for the consequences of my work during their rains.
All in all, the dragons gave me fifteen thousand dollars in general compensation for my work.
I suspected they actually offered payment to look into their serial killer, although I wouldn’t tell them that to their faces. For a few moments, I questioned why they refused to make use of the police, but when I thought about it, I understood. Like the brothel workers, dragons held a certain reputation among law enforcement.
Pride also played a part.
My parents tried to squelch their pride often; they strived to maintain an illusion of normalcy. Normal people living normal lives had no reason to posture like some dragon ruling over a city. In my parents’ eyes, I held no doubt they believed such a thing. From my first breath, they’d called me their little princess, and they behaved as though there was reason I should stand proud when compared to mere humans. Somehow, I’d escaped their ego.
But again, when I thought of it, I realized they’d carefully choreographed parts of my life so I would shun those ways. While they likely hadn’t planned for me to become a detective, my choice had never surprised them. They’d expected me to do something similar. My father had wanted me to become a nurse in service to the ill. He’d taken me to nursing homes to play my little flute for the sick and elderly to learn the joy of doing good for others.
My mother had taken me to gardens and parks to volunteer so I might also learn those same traits.
And while they’d continued to call me their little princess, I had been raised to serve.
Had I only listened to their mouths, I would have become an annoyingly entitled child, expecting life to be served to me on a silver platter while those around me sang accolades about my non-existent virtues. Instead, I had witnessed their deeds—and those deeds had shaped me.
Instead of living a life of pride, I served with pride.
I wonder if I would have changed my decision to leave Miami if I’d realized that a little sooner. On second thought, no matter how I ran the scenario through my head, one thing remained the same.
Erik would have fallen with me, and his dreams would have been broken into irreparable pieces.
Still, why would dragons require any assistance from mere mortals? In Dragon Heights, enough dragon-kin worked on the force to make them allies, but I could also understand why the dragons would avoid bringing the police into it if at all possible.
Where the cops went, reporters followed—and I had found very little in terms of information on the murdered pilgrims during my initial investigation into the news.
While I debated what to do about the checks, Garnet played with one of my pens, batting it around the table and chasing after it. Every time she knocked it to the floor, I retrieved it, spent a few minutes waving it around for her, and giggled at her antics.
I’d never allowed myself to get a pet while in Miami, afraid my work would keep me away from the animal for too long every day. I’d thought about a cat a time or two, but the fear of neglecting it for the sake of my career had stopped me from ever bringing one home.
I’d never even gotten to the point of asking Erik if he liked dogs or cats and minded sharing space with one.
One thing was clear, however. Before I could fully concentrate on my work, I needed to buy supplies for Garnet and make sure my home became her home. While I was at it, I would see if the checks would clear. If they did, I would turn the apartment into a proper home when I needed time to think about the cases that had been dumped on my lap from two unlikely sources.
* * *
Sunday, April 19, 2167
The Emerald Ward
Dragon Heights, Wyoming
When seeking creature comforts, the wise went to the home of the green dragons within the Emerald Ward. While my parents had warned me I had more than my fair share of draconic genetics, they promised the greens and blues of our line were more benevolent. If I were to waken any powers, I would appreciate theirs with limited exception.
If I developed the powers of my cyan ancestors, I would be wise to keep from singing where men might hear me, else I might return home with a few lovesick attachments. Before everything had fallen apart, my mother had asked, repeatedly, if I’d lured Erik into my lair with music. Each time, I’d promised her music had not been involved in any luring, of him or anyone else.
We’d met at the gun range to keep our qualifications up, and my skill with my firearm had done the basic charming. It’d taken me six months of him showing up whenever I came to the range to realize he had any interest.
After I’d had several conversations with him, focused on improving our gun handling skills, he’d started following me around.
I could understand why my mother suspected a cyan dragon’s seductive call. How else would I, an idiot when it came to all things men and romance, actually have a relationship with someone?