by Tara West
Chapter Fourteen
Safina woke with a dark cloud shrouding her soul. Yesternight was the first time she’d wept for her father, for the love he had never given her and the way he’d broken her mother’s heart. Sometime during the night, Mother had come to bed and held her in her arms, kissing her temple and singing her to sleep with a dragon lullaby. Whether Mother had fallen asleep after that or succumbed to her own tears, Safina had no idea, but Mother was not there when she’d awoken.
A rumbling in her belly, as if her famished gut was gnawing on her insides, pulled Safina from her dark thoughts. ’Twould do no good to dwell on the dragonslayer on an empty stomach. Though she loved the sights, sounds, and especially the tastes of this new world, she loathed her eternal hunger. When she and Mother had lived in the old world, Mother always hunted at night in her dragon form, bringing Safina large game to satisfy her appetite. It was then that Mother would let Safina transform into a dragon, and she’d tear into the fresh meat until she had her fill. Safina did not know how long she could sustain herself on small meat pies and dainty pastries.
She quickly dressed and found Abby in her room. After Abby insisted on pinning Safina’s hair up in an impossibly restrictive bun, they went downstairs for breakfast.
Even before they entered the kitchen, Safina was struck by a pang of disappointment. She did not smell the heavenly aromas of bread baking or eggs frying.
The old servant, Moses, was on his hands and knees. After dipping a brush into a soapy bucket, he scrubbed grime off the floor.
“Where’s breakfast, Moses?” Abby asked accusingly as she carelessly walked across the wet floor.
He looked up at her, the whites of his eyes stark against his ebony skin. “Lazy hens didn’t lay ’nuff eggs.”
Safina expected Abby to throw a fit, or at the very least, raid the cupboards for scraps of food. Instead, she broke into a wide grin. “Shall I pay Lydia a visit?”
“I dunno.” He shrugged. “Your nanna say you can go?”
“Yes, Moses.” Abby crossed the kitchen and grabbed two apples off the table. “We came to an understanding last night.” She winked at Safina, tossing her an apple.
“Well, you git on then.” Moses frowned down at her trail of footprints. “I gots too much to do around here.”
Safina hadn’t taken one bite out of her apple before Abby was dragging her out the room.
“Lydia’s mother has the finest chickens in all of Galveston.” She giggled, as if she had mischief planned besides just collecting eggs. “You must come with me.”
Safina shook her head, digging her heels into the woolen rug. “I think I should wait for my mother, and you for your nana.”
Just then Safina’s stomach growled louder than a charging bear.
Abby’s eyes widened, and then she flashed a knowing smile. “Nonsense. You need to eat. Your mother has gone to pay Señor Cortez a visit, and Nana escorted Mrs. Alderman home. She will expect us to attend church when she returns.” She batted her lashes, pouting. “Besides, would you have me walk alone after my fall?”
“I don’t know, Abby.” But Safina’s stomach growled again as if to protest her indecision.
“Then walk half the distance with me.” Abby crossed to the rack beside the front door, tossing her a bonnet. “I will drop you off to see your mother and then come back and pick you up.”
Safina pressed the bonnet to her chest as she flushed. “You will take me to Señor Cortez’s home?” she asked, unable to contain the eagerness in her voice. “Do his grandchildren live with him?”
Abby pried the bonnet from Safina’s hands and put it firmly over her head. “Have you taken a liking to the crippled boy?”
Abby had that knowing look in her eyes, the kind of look that made Safina’s cheeks flame like a raging inferno.
Safina averted her gaze. “He is kind.”
He was more than kind. He knew what she was, and yet he seemed to be captivated by her. No mortal had ever shown Safina such admiration. And though Gabriel had not the strength or fortitude of a man, he had the face of an angel. Safina could not help but be charmed by him, too.
Abby tied the ribbon beneath Safina’s chin a little too tightly, twisting her lips into a scowl. A wave of unease washed over Safina; she sensed Abby was unhappy with her new friendship.
“Yes, he lives with his grandfather,” Abby said tersely.
“Very well, then. I suppose I could go.” Safina did her best not to sound excited about the prospect of seeing Gabriel again. Perhaps Abby knew what the dragon queen had been warning her, that men were not to be trusted.
* * *
Abby hardly spoke to Safina during their walk. They’d only gone two blocks before Abby left Safina at a modest two-story home sitting on stilts so high, Safina could have walked underneath the structure. Safina hesitated, wondering if she should go up, since she did not sense her mother was near, but the prospect of seeing Gabriel propelled her feet forward. She tucked lose strands of hair beneath her bonnet as she climbed the steps, stopping once to glance over her shoulder.
Abby crossed the street and wove between people, her back stiff as she hurried away. She hadn’t even bothered to wish Safina well. Safina wondered if she’d offended Abby, then decided to put it out of her mind. No use fretting over a mortal girl who’d already proven she couldn’t be trusted.
Señor Cortez rocked back and forth in his chair beneath the overhang, chewing on an unlit pipe. He searched the horizon as if he was looking for something, but Safina saw nothing in the skies.
“Good day, Señor Cortez.” Safina made a little curtsy like her mother had taught her, surprising herself when she didn’t fall over.
He looked at her with wide eyes, as if she’d just pulled him from a trance. “Hola, mija. Como estas?”
She wasn’t sure what he meant, but she assumed it was a friendly greeting in his foreign tongue. “I am looking for my mother.”
Just as he pulled the pipe from his mouth and set it on a nearby table, an orange mongrel cat surprised her by jumping on his lap, purring against his chest while its bent tail wagged with jerky movements.
“She has already gone,” he said with a frown as he stroked the cat’s back.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Safina answered, feeling awkward that she’d intruded on his private time.
“Don’t be sorry.” He nodded in the direction Abby had fled. “Your friend left in a hurry.”
“Aye.” Safina straightened her shoulders. “We are out of eggs.” Although she sensed Abby’s quick dismissal was more out of spite than necessity.
“Have you not eaten breakfast?” the old man asked as he rose on shaky legs, depositing the cat on the wooden planks under his feet.
Safina shook her head.
“Come dine with Gabriel.” He waved her into the house with a bony arm. “His brothers have gone fishing. I’m sure he could use the company.”
Safina froze as the cat walked in a circle around her ankles, purring and nuzzling her skirts. “I do not wish to intrude.” Safina stared down in wonder as the cat continued to rub against her. Cats had never taken a liking to her before, preferring to hiss the threat of scratching her eyes out whenever she’d tried to approach.
Señor Cortez held the door wide, an expectant look in his crinkled eyes. “You’re never intruding, niña. Come.”
“Thank you, kindly,” she said with a smile as the cat led the way inside, his bent tail swishing like a broken reed waving in the wind, “but just until Abby returns.”
The Cortez dwelling was smaller than Mrs. Jenkens’s fine home, the carpets threadbare and the furniture worn. The wood planks loudly protested each step, but the home smelled of fresh spices and had a warm feel. Safina was much more at ease there.
The entryway to the kitchen lacked a door, though a set of rusty hinges hung from the frame. Gabriel sat in his wheeled chair at a small table beside a metal hearth, consumed in the task of digging through what appeared to be a bucket of sa
nd.
“Good morrow,” she said to him and practiced another curtsy, again pleasantly surprised she didn’t fall over.
He looked up from his work, his full lips tilting in a devilish grin as his gaze traveled the length of her.
Safina couldn’t help the quickening of her heart when their eyes locked. There was something about Gabriel that seemed to awaken her. She felt more alive with him than she’d ever been with another, as if his presence stirred the dying embers within her soul. She moved toward him as if she were floating on a cloud.
“Good morning, Safi. Have you eaten breakfast?”
“Not yet.” Safina’s nostrils flared as Gabriel pulled a cloth off a woven basket in the center of the table, revealing oblong breads that smelled like warm butter and spices.
He pushed the basket toward her. “Help yourself.”
Safina didn’t need to be asked twice. She pulled up a chair, mouth watering when she stared down into the basket. She took one of the loaves, surprised by the weight of it. It was stuffed with meats or cheeses, no doubt.
Gabriel wheeled away from her, grabbing a jug off a bench beneath the window. “Coffee or orange juice?”
“I-I don’t know.” She held the bread in both hands, wondering which end to bite first.
“Here.” He set two cups in front of her. “Try both.”
She set down the bread and eagerly grabbed the cup with steaming brown liquid, swallowing several hot gulps. It was slightly bitter with an unusual aftertaste. Safina fought the urge to make a face as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She tried the orange liquid next, relieved to find it was sweet, much like Mrs. Jenkens’s lemonade, though this was thicker.
“Thank you kindly.” She set the juice down and smiled, hoping he wasn’t displeased with the smattering of freckles on her nose. Why she’d thought of her freckles at that moment, she had no idea.
He wheeled closer, making her feel uneasy and excited all at once. “Let me show you how Mexicans eat breakfast.” He grabbed another loaf out of the basket, having to lean much too close to her to do so. He opened up the bread to reveal something brownish that looked like mud along with orange-tinted rice and melted cheese. “Tortillas with beans, rice, cheese, and some pico de gallo.” He added a spoonful of tomato dressing and closed the bread. “We call it a burrito.” He bit into it and moaned.
Instinctively, Safina licked her lips as she watched him take another bite. She’d no idea if she was hungrier for a burrito or a kiss from Gabriel Cortez. She blinked hard, stifling a gasp at her wayward thoughts. Why would she want a kiss from a mortal man? Her mother had told her they weren’t to be trusted. She forced herself to clear all improper thoughts about Gabriel Cortez from her head. Following his lead, she spooned a generous heap of the tomato mixture into her burrito.
“Easy on the pico.” He laughed, a deep, throaty chuckle. “It’s a bit spicy.”
“You forget I breathe fire,” she said with a wink.
His cheeks flushed a bright crimson as he looked away. What had she done to have made him blush?
Gripping the burrito, she bit into one end, not knowing what to expect. Rich, tangy flavors burst on her tongue, pleasing her palate immensely. The beans tasted like warm, soft meat, and the cheese and tomatoes were a perfect blend of richness and spice.
“Oh, this is the most heavenly food I’ve ever eaten. I hope you can spare more of those burritos.”
He flashed a wolfish grin. “Don’t tell me you’ve brought a dragon’s appetite.”
“I always have a dragon’s appetite.” Safina took another bite, contemplating her words. Somehow she feared Mother would be upset with her if she saw her acting like a glutton at the Cortez home. She recalled once when the local crofter had invited them for bread and stew. Safina had eagerly eaten three bowls and then had had to endure her mother’s endless scolding on the long walk home.
“How does your mother keep you fed?” Gabriel asked.
“Since coming to Galveston, I am hungry most of the time,” she answered honestly, hoping he didn’t judge her harshly. But for some reason, Safina didn’t want to hide her true self from Gabriel. If he were to be her friend, she wanted him to like her despite her flaws, including her ability to breathe fire and her insatiable appetite. “This new world has delicious food, but it’s much too sparse. When we lived in the old world, Mother hunted at night. We always had fresh stag or bear. Occasionally, Mother would catch tuna or shark.”
Gabriel shot up. “Good God. Did the sharks put up a fight?”
“Of course, but they were no match for my mother.”
The look in Gabriel’s eyes was one of wonder, like the first time Safina had seen the northern lights dancing in the night sky. “My brothers said you were as big as river barges.”
Safina had no idea what a barge was, but she assumed it was large. “We’re dragons, not sparrows.” She bit into her burrito again, watching with amusement as Gabriel’s eyes shone like starlight.
“Do you like birds?” he asked.
Safina shrugged, washing down a mouthful of food with orange juice. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “I like all creatures, but birds are especially tasty.”
“Not to eat.” He chuckled. “I have rescued a nest of chicks. I was about to feed them when you arrived.”
“Truly? May I see them?” Safina instinctively grabbed his arm. He was warmer than she expected, and her fingers tingled as she brushed his skin.
He made no effort to shake off her grip, as he surprisingly moved even closer.
Safina got lost in the pools of his large eyes. For though they were as dark as polished mahogany, they were also as brilliant as the sun, alight with wonder and yearning.
“Yes,” he whispered with a smirk, “but that will require you to walk away from the burrito.”
Safina jerked back at the sound of his hearty laugh. Oh, the fop had made a joke at her expense. She playfully swatted his chest and jumped to her feet. “As long as it will be here when I get back, else you will have to contend with a dragon’s ire.”
“Never cross a hungry dragon. Got it.” He wheeled himself backward. “But I should warn you I wouldn’t make a filling meal, anyway.”
Safina couldn’t help but laugh out loud, even though she hated that the joke was at Gabriel’s expense. At least he had found a way to laugh at his infirmity instead of lament it. Perhaps she should try the same next time she thought about bemoaning her dragon blood.
He wheeled into a room behind them. Like the kitchen, there was no door; rather the entry was covered with a piece of cloth. Safina pushed it aside, her dragon-touched eyes quickly adjusting to the low light, for the room had only one window, a narrow slit at the top of the back wall.
“This used to be the pantry,” Gabriel said with an apologetic shrug, “but since I can’t climb stairs….”
The look he flashed her was uneasy. Was he ashamed of his bedchamber? Safina had not a room to call her own. Even the shoes on her feet belonged to another. Gabriel had no reason to be ashamed of anything.
She spun a slow circle in the cramped space. There was barely enough room for a cot and a small desk. The desk was overflowing with books, various plants, what appeared to be a big glob of mud and twigs, and one rusty oil lamp. Gabriel lit the lamp, its warm glow illuminating several pictures pinned to the wall behind his desk.
“Have you been to these places?” she asked, admiring the various pictures. There was one in particular that caught her eye, a circle of sacrificial stones she and Mother had once flown over when she was a child. The giant stones, Mother had said, had been used to harvest great magic back in the time of Feira, Queen Mother of Dragons.
“Only in my dreams,” he answered with a sigh, “but I’d like to. Have you?”
“I’ve been here.” She pointed to the stones.
He wheeled beside her, looking up at her with wonder. “Are they as glorious as they appear?”
“More so.” She reme
mbered with fondness how the moonlight had reflected off the surface of the stones, while the flapping of Mother’s wings flattened the surrounding grass. They’d landed briefly in the center, to take in all of its majesty, and then they’d flown away again into the night sky before their presence could be discovered. That was one of her few happy childhood memories.
“Have you been to the Orient?” he asked.
“Nay. Mother never took me across the sea until….” Safina paused, an unexpected ache welling in her throat. She’d no idea until that very moment how much the memories of her confinement haunted her: the dark sounds of the ocean, the eternal loneliness, the misery of her mother’s heartbreak. It was too much to bear. She stumbled over to the cot, the springs protesting as she slumped onto the lumpy mattress.
“Safi, are you all right?” His voice was a dark whisper ricocheting off the void in her soul.
She looked at him through a curtain of tears, hardly aware she was crying. “She kept me down there for so long. I don’t want to go back, Gabriel,” she pleaded, as if he could somehow stop her mother.
“Is it true, then?” He reached into his pocket and handed her a soft cloth. “Papí said you slept underwater for five hundred years.”
“Aye, we did.” Safina looked down at the cloth. It was cream-colored and stitched with the blue letters GC. Though Safina could not read, she assumed the letters were his initials. Was he expecting her to wipe her tears with such an elegant piece of fabric? “What am I to do with this?”
“You dry your eyes with it. It’s called a handkerchief.”
“A handkerchief?” What a long, puzzling name for something so small. “But it is too fine.”
“That’s okay.” He flashed a smile so warm, Safina felt it all the way to her toes. “I have another. You can keep that one.”
“Truly? Thank you.” If Mother had been there, she would have insisted Safina return the cloth, but Safina had never owned something so fine before, and she wasn’t about to give it back. She pressed it to her nose, inhaling deeply the scent of Gabriel Cortez. It was a very nice, earthy scent, mixed with the smells of old paper and ink. Now that it was hers, she had no desire to smear it with her tears. She shoved the handkerchief into a concealed pocket in her dress, and then she used the end of her sleeve to mop up her eyes.