The Last Dragon Lord

XXV

XXV

Miri and Earl pulled into an alley behind her apartment building, a narrow street filled with dumpsters and puddles.

She was still in her nightgown and robe; there had been other clothes at Lucan’s penthouse, but to her surprise, what she was wearing was the tamest thing in the wardrobe. She’d have to go a long time before she could push the lingerie images out of her mind.

Earl opened the door and got out. He surveyed the alley, and seeing no one, opened the door for Miri and guarded her as she entered the back door of the three-story building.

There was a restaurant on the first floor. As they hurried through a green hallway with peeling paint, the smell of pizza and fried chicken hit them.

It was familiar. She’d only eaten at the restaurant once, and it had given her food poisoning. With the magic shortage and all the environmental trouble, Miri was the organic food type. More money, better living. But the fried food did remind her of home, and after all she’d been through, she was grateful for the smell.

She led the way up a narrow staircase. Some of the steps had cracks in them. The lighting dimmed as they climbed.

“Watch your step, Earl.”

“Trust me, I’ve been in worse places, Miss.”

They reached the second floor. The sounds of the restaurant were just below—dishes clinking, a loud ceiling fan, an oven beeping, a group of people talking and laughing. The hallway smelled of mildew and old grease.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Earl said, “but I thought a professor could afford a better establishment.”

“I’m lucky to afford this,” Miri said. “Most of my pay goes to health insurance and a so-called retirement plan.”

Earl shook his head.

Her door was just down the hall.

They rounded a corner.

First she saw legs, then a torso.

Someone was sitting in front of her apartment.

She startled and reversed, bumping into Earl.

“What’s wrong?” Earl whispered.

Miri peeked her head around the corner.

It was Laner Tonsenberry, senior faculty in the Academy of History and Magical Sciences. A colleague. He was a human with elven blood in his history who had taken an interest in the magical arts. He was the only human on staff, and equal with the other faculty. Salaries were private, but Miri wouldn’t have been surprised if he made more money than her because Dean Rosehill liked his easygoing demeanor.

He had been an enemy at times. But ultimately, he was a friend.

He wore a white button-up shirt that was loosely tucked into brown trousers, and his curly auburn hair was a mess. He rested his head against the door, as if he had been sleeping.

He can’t know where I’ve been, Miri thought.

“Carry me,” Miri said, jumping into Earl’s arms.

“Ma’am, I don’t want to give anyone the wrong impression of our—”

“Trust me.”

She felt his strong hands around her, and she let her head hang limp and tried to remember her college days.

As they approached, Laner woke up and wiped drool from his face. He c****d his head at Earl, but when he saw Miri, he stood up.

“Hey. I’ve been waiting for you all night,” Laner said.

Miri rolled her head as if she was drunk. “Looooong night.”

“Who are you?” Laner asked. He gave Earl a look that seemed to say “What’s a human doing carrying an elven woman around?”

“I’m the designated driver, sir,” Earl said.

After a pause, Laner nodded. Earl did seem to be dressed for it.

“Oh, okay,” Laner said. “Listen, Miri—”

Miri held out her hand; a pentagram on the door activated in response and the door opened.

They entered her apartment, a cozy studio. A divider made from rice paper separated her bed from the living room, which had white walls and books everywhere. There were piles and piles of books on anthropology, magic and art.

A gray cat mewed and ran away at the sight of the visitors.

A large bay window overlooked the street, which was empty except for a few parked cars. Earl set Miri on a couch at the base of the bay window. He stood by the door with his arms crossed, staring out the window and ignoring them.

“I never knew you to be a partier,” Laner said.

Miri gripped her head. Pretending to be hungover was surprisingly easy.

“After our faculty meeting, I needed a few drinks,” she said.

“Well, are you still sobering up, or have you seen the news?” Laner asked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The Ancestral Bogs,” Laner said. “Something happened there last night.”

“So?”

Laner grinned. “But no one knows what happened, Miri. That’s the best part. The government seized the land and has invoked the Magical Lands Act. I know you’re pissed about the faculty meeting yesterday, but thank goodness we decided to endorse the governor, because he appointed Magic Hope University to aid in the investigation.”

Miri wanted to vomit.

“Per the law, the university has to respond within twenty-four hours and appoint a lead on the project, an individual with relevant experience and ability,” Laner said.

“You’ll do great,” Miri said.

“No, you’ll do great,” Laner said. He produced a sheet of paper. It was a government order with the seal of the Magic Hope Government on top and the governor’s signature at the bottom.

In the effort of expediency, I, Ennius Grimoire, appoint Magic Hope University as a liaison in the investigation at the Ancestral Bogs.

Be it known that Dean Argonne Rosehill has elected Professor Miri Charmwell to lead the investigation and be a resource to government officials at this time.

Miri vomited on the floor. It splattered and hit Laner’s shoe. He jumped back.

“Yikes. You really need some rest,” Laner said.

“I … I can’t do it today,” Miri said. “I’m sick.”

“This is the opportunity of a lifetime,” Laner said. He searched the kitchen for a mop.

“Behind the fridge,” Miri groaned.

Laner returned with paper towels and a mop. He started working on the pool of filth.

“You’re not telling me you’re going to turn it down,” he said.

“Hello,” Miri said. “I’m not in the greatest shape right now.”

“That’s the beauty,” Laner said. “You’ve got twenty-four hours to accept. Start sobering up.”

Laner wasn’t going to take no for an answer. He never did. Normally that was his greatest personality trait in a faculty full of old-timers who insisted on the traditional way of doing things. And in any other circumstance, Miri would have said yes—screamed it as loud as she could, jumped up and down and hugged him.

From the disappointed look in his eyes, she could tell he’d expected that response. A few years ago there had been some chemistry between them, but she found out that he had been divorced and that the details were quite messy, and he just wasn’t the right fit for her.

“Will you at least think about it?” Laner asked softly. “Miri, you can’t possibly say no to this. Dean Rosehill argued for you. The governor hates your guts, and honestly they probably would have picked me instead.”

“Then you should do it,” Miri said.

“You’re the most qualified. You have background in geography, magical sciences, and history. If Dean Rosehill wanted you first, then I’m not going against that.”

“I’ll talk to Rosehill,” Miri said.

Laner shifted from one foot to the other. “I promised I’d call him when I found you.”

“Not now. Laner, I—”

He patted his pockets and pulled out a worn smartphone. Miri tried to stop him, but he dialed and put Dean Rosehill on speakerphone.

“Miss Charmwell, where have you been?” the dragon asked. His fussy voice came through the phone in full definition, and there was no mistaking that he was annoyed.

She ran a hand through her hair and composed herself.

“Dean Rosehill, please forgive me,” she said.

“You’ve been out partying like the students, I presume? Last day of summer vacation and all,” Dean Rosehill said.

“Yes. I’m ill,” she said.

“Have you seen the good news, Miss Charmwell?” Dean Rosehill asked.

“Yes, it is an honor,” Miri said.

“Do you accept?” the dragon asked.

“I have to think about it,” Miri said. “To be honest, sir, I’m under the weather, and I may not be able to give this project the mental clarity that it requires.”

Dean Rosehill growled, and the vibration shook the phone. “Listen, girl. I pleaded with Governor Grimoire to give you this position. I promised to help you get your doctorate back, but you’re not working with me. Do we have a problem, Miss Charmwell?”

Miri gulped. “No, not at all. I—”

“You have until four p.m. to make your final decision,” Dean Rosehill said. “I recommend that you rest and do whatever you need to make yourself correct. Because you will be accepting. This is a glorious day for the University and you will not ruin our prestige. Goodbye, Miss Charmwell.”

The call ended.

“Good thing he didn’t want to do a video call,” Laner said. “You look like hell.”

Miri opened the door. “Laner, I need time to think, please.”

Laner got the message and exhaled dejectedly. “What is there to decide? But okay, whatever.”

He left.

Miri shut the door behind him and leaned on it. “This is bad.”

Earl, who had been standing like a sentry in the kitchen, relaxed and started walking around the apartment, inspecting it.

“Yes, Miss, I’d say you’ve got a problem.”

“I need to talk to Lucan,” Miri said.

“He’s got engagements all morning.”

“What about Celesse?”

“Where he goes, she goes,” Earl said.

Miri walked behind the divider in the room. She changed into a rose-colored blouse, a baby blue blazer jacket and denim jeans. As she dressed, she sensed Earl’s discomfort, even though he couldn’t see her.

“What’s next, Earl?” she asked, putting on a pearl necklace as she rejoined him.

“We stay here until the boss gives his speech.” Earl tapped his watch. “Fortunately, it’s in ten minutes.”

“Then what?”

“I’m under orders to take you through every back road in the city in a circuitous route,” Earl said.

“What? Why?”

“In case anyone’s followin’,” he said. “Because after, I was told to take you to Old Dark.”

Miri grinned. “Then what are we waiting for?”