Chapter 1-2
1837 Words
“Yes.”
“What’s your mother’s name?”
“Orinda the Odious.”
Zale chuckled. “It’s not.”
Albus looked down at him, his pupils changing into cat-like slits and his eyes glowing red like rubies. Magnificent, but fear blocked Zale’s throat. s**t.
“It is.”
Zale nodded his agreement. It was, of course, it was. Could someone name their kid Albus the Abomination, someone else could name theirs Orinda the Odious.
“My mother’s name is Ocean.”
Albus blinked at him, his eyes turning human again. “Ocean?”
He nodded. “My brother’s name is Bay.”
“And your father?”
Zale grinned. “George. He’s not from the coast.”
“You’re from the coast?”
Zale nodded.
“And when you’re from the sea, you have sea names?” Albus bent to open the door to one of the narrow, tall houses on the street. It was like stepping into a fairytale. An entire street of small, tower-like houses. They had to be at least four floors. Some towered over the others, but no house appeared broader than another.
“Wow, this road is—” Zale didn’t have time to say anything else before Albus stepped into the shop. There were things everywhere—shelves, large wooden boxes filled with what looked like hooks, coat racks, wine stands, tables without tabletops, room dividers, but most of all there were candle holders. Wall mounted, floor standing, chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, and some scattered around the floor.
“Holy f**k!”
Albus jumped at his outburst.
“Did you make all these?” There were too many things to give them justice, and there wasn’t any order to where things stood or how they were organized, which was too bad. The more Zale looked, the more amazed he became. “You’re an artist.”
“I don’t deal in art. It’s too risky.”
“But you sell these. These are your things, your shop?”
Albus grimaced. “On this side of the veil, everyone is paper-note dragons. If I get enough paper notes, I invest in gemstones, but my treasure is still small.”
Zale tried to process what he was saying without much luck. All dragons on this side of the veil collected money? Humans did too. “Have you been on this side of the veil for long?”
Albus put him on an iron-wrought stool by the counter, next to the brass cash register. “Did you make this too?”
Albus looked at the cash register with narrowed eyes. “I don’t like working in brass.”
“Oh. But could you make one?”
For a second, scales covered his throat before smoothing out into skin again. He flicked a forked tongue as he moved away, which made Zale freeze. s**t, he hadn’t known they had forked tongues. Knowledge about dragons wasn’t widespread, and not much reached small seaside towns like the one he came from.
“Too many details.”
Zale nodded his understanding. Buttons, and he assumed there were a lot of cogs and stuff inside. Not things you made in a smithy, perhaps.
“I’ll go clean up.” And then he was gone.
Zale slumped against the counter, the pain in his stomach gnawing at him. He closed his eyes for a moment, wishing for more time, but he was so tired.
There was a chime of a bell when the door to the shop opened, and a priest entered. He looked around in distaste, and when his gaze landed on Zale, he stilled. “Who are you?”
Where he came from, they weren’t big on formalities, but hospitality was important. “Zale Hagan.”
The man’s eyes narrowed and something close to a sneer crept onto his lips. “And what are you doing here?”
He was saved from replying by Albus entering the shop. “Reverend.”
The sneer bloomed. “Albus the Abomination.”
Since Albus didn’t move a muscle, Zale assumed he’d foreseen what kind of greeting he’d get.
“Why is there a human on that side of the counter?”
Rude. Zale wished he’d had the energy to stand. He wasn’t as strong as he’d been, his muscles fading with each passing minute, but he was taller than the reverend, and something inside urged him to stand united with Albus against him.
Albus didn’t answer, his eyes had changed to the glowing red color Zale had seen earlier, but it was the only indication he’d heard the reverend’s question.
Zale used the counter for support and stood. He did his best not to show what it cost him and smiled at the reverend. “How can we help you?”
“We?” The reverend slid his cold gaze over Zale. “I don’t know who you are.”
Did he know everyone in this city? Maybe he did. Zale was unsure of how big it was, but it was a tourist town. He couldn’t possibly keep track of the people coming and going.
“I’m with Albus the Astute.” He gestured at Albus so there wouldn’t be any confusion about who he meant. Albus hadn’t shown much emotion before, but now his face grew into a blank mask.
“You’re his mate?” The words dripped with distaste.
“What’s it to you if I am?” Oh, s**t. He didn’t mind pissing the reverend off, though he should play nice with the church considering where he was heading, but he didn’t want to offend Albus. Would having a male mate make him less of a dragon? He’d heard the dragons coming here often took human mates, but maybe it was a bad thing in the eyes of a dragon too?
“I’m the one handling the human-dragon matings and Albus the Abomination—” he emphasized Abomination “—hasn’t been approved.”
The growl coming from Albus had Zale’s heart quicken, and he fought against the need to sit.
“What Albus the Adroit does is not your business. Now, how can we help you?”
Red painted the reverend’s face as he spluttered. “You can’t change his name!”
Zale glanced at Albus, who still held on to his blank face. “I don’t see how what I call Albus the Adept is any of your business. Did you have a reason to grace us with your presence?”
What little energy Zale had was quickly leaving him. He needed to sit, or his legs would soon go out from under him, but he didn’t want to show any weakness. He didn’t mind if Albus knew he was hanging on by a thread, but admitting defeat to the reverend would sting more than Zale wanted to admit.
“A nozzle on one of the church’s candlesticks has come off, and I was wondering if you could attach it again.” He dug out a heavy-looking bronze candle holder from the bag he was carrying and then held up a small plate-like thing—the nozzle—from his pocket. “If you could weld it back into place.”
Weld? Zale didn’t say anything. This was Albus’ field of expertise, so he’d sit this one out. And sit he did. It still hurt to have to lower himself in front of the reverend, but he made it look as nonchalant as he could, as if he’d lost interest now when they were talking shop.
“I can fix it.” Albus’ voice was growly, and when he stepped forward to grab the candle holder Zale was struck by how big he was. Not only was he more than a head taller than the reverend, but he was also twice as broad. Blacksmith, lots of heavy lifting.
“Can you do it now? I need to get back to the church.”
Albus nodded, and he plucked the nozzle from the reverend’s hand.
“I can take your payment while Albus is working.” Zale didn’t know what all the buttons meant, but there was one that was bigger than the rest, and he wanted to push it.
“It’s for the church.” The outraged tone had Zale fighting a grin. He wasn’t normally this petty.
“Yes, and the church will want to show their appreciation for Albus’ hard work, not to mention how important it is to keep a dragon fed. If all he has to eat is the customers daring to enter the shop, there will be a problem.”
Albus whipped around and stared at him, but Zale ignored him.
The reverend more or less threw a bill on the counter, which Zale quickly picked up. “Thank you.” He placed it in one of the slots and closed the drawer with a grin. The reverend glared, but Zale didn’t care. He wouldn’t be here long enough to have to suffer any repercussions, and he hoped he hadn’t made things harder for Albus.
It didn’t take many minutes before Albus came back into the shop and handed the candle holder to the reverend. “Done.” Then he walked in behind the counter without so much as looking at the reverend. Zale bit the inside of his cheek and waited until the bell above the door chimed before he chuckled.
He reached out and patted Albus’ arm. “I’m so sorry if I made things harder for you, but he wasn’t pleasant to talk to. It was childish of me.”
Albus studied him for a second. “Hatchlings are rude?”
Hatchlings? Ah, childish. “They can be.”
Albus nodded as if it explained everything. “You’re young, so it makes sense.”
A laugh bubbled out of Zale. “I’m not young. My mother would be appalled by my lack of manners.”
Albus didn’t reply. He had a faraway look in his eyes, which made Zale suspect he’d said something wrong. “How old are you?” He didn’t know if it was rude to ask, but at least it was a different topic.
“Two hundred thirty-four.”
“And yet you don’t look a day over forty.” Zale grinned, but it was soon replaced by a sigh. Two hundred and thirty-four years. Wouldn’t it be amazing? Or maybe you grew bored. Life was precious because it was limited and always a little too short. In his case, a lot too short.
“How old are you?”
“Thirty-eight.”
“A hatchling.” There was something similar to fondness in Albus’ eyes, and it had a lump forming in Zale’s throat. He wasn’t sure his voice would carry, so he nodded instead and did his best to blink away the burn in his eyes.
When the silence grew too long, he cleared his throat. “A dying man.”
Albus was saved from answering by the bell above the door.
- Writer
