'Til Dragons Do Us Part (Never Deal with Dragons)

by Lorenda Christensen

  Slightly wobbly on my feet—I didn’t spend that much time in heels—I followed her inside. Reflexively, I took a moment to inventory my surroundings, and what I saw made me tighten my knuckles on the strap of my purse.

  I was completely out of my depth here.

  Even though I’d made it clear I wasn’t a potential client, as soon as we’d entered the shop April launched into a sales pitch that appeared to be just as ingrained as my need to locate all security cameras in a new setting.

  “As you can see, Bridal Visions prides itself on being the one-stop shop for your perfect wedding. We handle everything, from booking the venue to helping you choose your music for service and reception. We also have a collection of self-branded wedding attire, though we do offer access to other designer brands if the bride doesn’t find the dress of her dreams in-house.”

  Along the far wall, mannequins, resplendent in gorgeous bridal gowns and slim-cut tuxedos, advertised the best Bridal Visions had to offer. While the assortment was mostly comprised of basic blacks and whites, the shop also displayed a couple of outfits in sharp greens and pinks that were clearly designed for the more edgy or spirited bride. Either way, the options seemed unlimited.

  I heard myself swallow. I didn’t do undercover operations often. And when I did, they rarely lasted longer than a couple of hours. I just wasn’t good at faking confidence.

  Jeanie and I had once laughed at a man who must have been meeting his newborn nephew for the first time. The baby’s mother had been adamant that her brother take a turn at holding the baby, despite his protests. The look on his face—a mixture of absolute terror coupled with no small dose of wonderment—had been priceless as the tiny boy was transferred into his stiff and waiting arms.

  That dose of absolute terror? I was feeling it now. This place was pushing me close to a full-on panic attack.

  Doing my best to look calm and knowledgeable, I followed April through the room. It was probably just my imagination, but I felt as if each and every one of the plastic faces were looking down at me in scorn, despite the fact that they had no eyes or other discernible facial features. I half expected one of them to turn and point a finger in my direction, screaming that I was a fake.

  Two curtained areas—I assumed they were dressing rooms—were tucked on either side of a massive three-way wall mirror. I winced as I caught a glance at myself, all bony elbows and windblown hair. Even with the new clothes, I looked nothing like the effortlessly elegant April.

  She kept up her patter as we walked down a hallway carpeted in a deep, rich cream, and into a room that was so filled with flowers I was afraid to breathe lest I die of pollen poisoning. Amid the multitude of blooms, a large bulletin board filled with fabric swatches leaned against a conference table, labeled with names like “chartreuse sunrise” and “raspberry sparkle.” I hadn’t known that many colors actually existed.

  Completely unaware of my rising concerns, April extended her arm in invitation for me to look my fill.

  “This is where we create sample flower arrangements. Once the bride decides on a design, we place the order and schedule delivery from there.” She pointed at a small desk cluttered with pens, more fabric swatches, and order forms in various stages of completion.

  “So all the planning is done from here?” I half hoped she’d say yes, and I’d have an excuse to walk away. If this job wasn’t getting me closer to Relobu’s art collection, it wasn’t worth the effort.

  “Most of the time, yes. We usually do most of our design and fabrication work here in the shop, and then truck the finished products to the venue the day of the ceremony for final assembly. Of course, right now, we’re all focused on the Banks/Chobardan wedding. It was a huge coup for us to get the contract, so Amanda has ordered us to give Miss Banks anything she wants. Our bride has recently been so caught up in her work at DRACIM that we’ve been making a lot of house calls.”

  The explanation made sense. I’d read that Myrna had taken over the running of the Tulsa DRACIM office, and with all the unrest within the ruling dragon council, I imagine she had her hands full. Until six months ago, there had been seven dragon lords, each ancient dragon ruling over a specified region, with strict rules in place forbidding interference from other realms. But one dragon lord, pretty high on the psychotic scale to begin with, had hatched a plan to kill all the other rulers and set himself up as the king of everything.

  The other dragon lords had successfully curbed his impulses by removing him from power in the traditional dragon fashion—by removing his head from his body. But the resulting power vacuum had made all the other dragon lords itchy, and the list of younger wanna-be dragon rulers was growing by the day. DRACIM offices all over the world had humans requesting meetings with any dragon who would deign to see them, the humans frantically trying to achieve a head start on getting in the good graces of the next Chinese dragon lord, whoever he or she might be.

  Frankly, I was surprised Myrna had the guts to schedule a fancy wedding at all, never mind one involving the only publicly known dragon morph. It was undisputed fact that dragons were firmly in place at the top of the food chain. But while some humans chose to ingratiate themselves with any member of the species in hope of furthering a personal agenda, there were others who turned their feelings of helplessness into anger.

  And dragons that sometimes inhabited much weaker human bodies, like Trian and myself? Who better a target?

  “And this,” April said, drawing my attention back to the shop, “is where I spend most of my time.” She opened this last door with a flourish.

  “Good Lord!” I could only tip up my head and gawk at the sight before me. A multi-tiered cake, at least seven feet tall, sat on display in the center of the room, covered in white fondant with golden piping, bouquets of vibrant flowers draped artfully across every available surface.

  It looked like a castle from some preteen girl’s imagination.

  “Please tell me that isn’t real.” Having spent most of my life in rather less formal settings, I could only imagine the number of ants a cake that size would attract.

  April laughed. “No. All our baking is handled at another location. These are just to give our brides an idea of what we can provide. We do keep samples on hand. Much smaller than this, of course. But allowing them to view an assortment of shape and color choices helps us fast-track the design process.”

  “It appears you provide a fast-track to diabetes.”

  She gave me a wink. “We have sugar-free versions of all our creations.”

  Wow. In addition to Jeanie’s general culinary skills, she was a fair hand at cake decorating. But even she, who had created a spectacular edible version of Mr. Ruff for Emma’s fourth birthday party, had never made anything even close to the size of this thing.

  “This cake is eleven dollars a slice, and available in several flavors, including caramel coffee, strawberry shortcake—”

  “Eleven dollars a slice? That’s just—” I couldn’t wrap my mind around spending that much money on a pile of sugar. “Do people really pay that much for a cake?”

  April nodded. “We’ve only sold one this size before, but—just between us—I’m really looking forward to the commission on the Banks cake. There are going to be over a thousand guests. And at least half of those are dragons! I told her the cake would need to be twice this big to feed everyone, especially with the number of attendees with non-human appetites. Myrna felt a cake that fed only four hundred would be plenty, but I’m still holding out hope that she’ll reconsider.”

  I started to tell her that dragons weren’t that keen on sugary foods in general, or suggest that Bridal Visions figure out a way to make a bacon-flavored cake, but I didn’t get a chance.

  Even though we were standing as far from the front entrance as possible, I knew the exact moment that Amanda arrived, because she immediately started shrieking my name. “Savannah!”

  April winced, but didn’t hesitate to disappear just before my new boss round
ed the corner. It was beginning to occur to me that screaming and angry was Amanda’s default state, no matter the situation.

  “Why are you standing here? We have an appointment at the Relobu mansion. If you don’t start pulling your own weight immediately, I’m calling your agency and you’ll be out on the street by noon.”

  All I could do is nod at the back of her head and follow her on teetering heels as she stalked back down the hall.

  * * *

  Amanda spent the entire drive over to Relobu Manor complaining at how hard it had been to get in touch with Miss Banks, and how behind schedule they were with practically everything. “It’s only two weeks before the ceremony, and she hasn’t stopped by for a second fitting on her dress! And the attendants! She tried to tell me she only wanted her friend, the redhead—Carol something—as her maid of honor. After I told her she needed more than just a single attendant, she picked her secretary and a dragon for bridesmaids!”

  I guess I can rule out being asked to participate in Amanda’s wedding. It appeared an assistant was not an appropriate choice for a bridesmaid.

  My new boss continued her diatribe. “How am I supposed to deal with that? I understand the creature is Lord Relobu’s niece, but other than a sash, how am I supposed to dress a dragon?”

  Ah. It wasn’t the secretary she had a problem with. Interesting.

  One set of fingers clenched tightly to the wheel, Amanda used her free had to tap on the notebook in my lap.

  “The flower order must be made today, or I can’t guarantee we can get what we need. This young lady is very lucky that she has Relobu’s unlimited wealth and DRACIM’s clout behind her, or there would be no way I could pull this together in time. Are you writing this down?”

  I sighed and reluctantly pulled out a pen. By the time we’d arrived at the mansion, I was carsick from writing and daydreaming about rolling down the window to hurl myself from the moving car. Once we’d parked, I wasted no time grabbing my leather satchel from the back seat and jumping out. The butler let us in the house, and while we waited for our presence to be announced, I had to listen to Amanda complain about the unprofessional appearance of my bag.

  She was right, of course. The poor tote had been through many a scrape, and the leather surface had long ago been rubbed raw by use. But it was the only bag I owned that I could carry on both my human and dragon bodies, and I never went anywhere without a change of clothes. I knew from experience that it sucked to be stuck in dragon form just because I forgot to bring an outfit along for the ride.

  So I did my best to look contrite, but ultimately, I had to tune out my boss’s incessant disapproving comments or risk reaching over and strangling the life from her body. I was beginning to think Amanda complained out of sheer boredom.

  Her constant criticisms had become so expected that I was shocked when the butler returned to lead us down to an open room, and my slightly crazy, totally cruel boss melted at the feet of her newest client.

  Myrna Banks, head of DRACIM Tulsa and arguably the most famous human being on the planet right now, gestured us inside, then sat across from us on a sofa in one of Lord Relobu’s many sitting rooms.

  “I really, really appreciate you taking the time to come down here and meet with me. Especially on such short notice.”

  “Oh, honey.” Amanda leaned forward and swallowed Myrna’s hands in a death grip. “It’s no trouble at all. When you need us, we’ll be here. We want to make sure your wedding goes off without a hitch. Or, rather, with a hitch, if you know what I mean.” My boss laughed hard at her own quip, and I found myself half expecting an alien to pop out of the top of her head.

  “Yes, well.” The bride to be didn’t seem to know how to handle Amanda’s forceful personality any better than I did, but she recovered nicely, gently but insistently retracting her hand before Amanda twisted it off at the wrist.

  “That’s really the main reason I asked you here today. We’re going to have to move the wedding.”

  I saw the amount of effort it took Amanda to keep from snapping. Judging by the tic that had started up just under her eye, moving the wedding wasn’t something that was normally done. I was sitting close enough to hear as Amanda ground her teeth, but ultimately, my boss held it together.

  Though her smile was as fake as the cakes in April’s showroom, Amanda’s voice was nevertheless calm and professional as she responded. “I understand that the date is fast approaching, but rest assured that we’ll have everything ready in two weeks, just as planned.”

  Myrna looked a bit startled. “Oh, no. I don’t want to move the wedding date. Just the venue.”

  “You want to move the—” Amanda cut herself off and closed her eyes.

  I wondered if I was about to witness the murder of DRACIM’s best and brightest, but once again, Amanda surprised me with her restraint.

  “May I ask what happened with The Silo? It’s a beautiful location. They’ve offered to open up some of the surrounding acreage to handle the arrival of your guests, and I can assure you that we’ve taken the special seating needs of the dragons into consideration. Everyone will have a perfect view of the ceremony, and the reception is just a short drive away for our human guests, and barely a stretch of the wing for the dragons.”

  Myrna smiled. “I agree. And that’s why I chose the venue in the first place.” She leaned back into the couch, steepling her hands just under her chin. “Amanda, you have been wonderful, and I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. Truly. But if you’ll permit me to be blunt. It likely hasn’t escaped your notice that all of this,” she waved her hand vaguely in the direction of my notebook, “just isn’t my forte. When you ask me about my preference for classic or modern, formal or laid back, I have no idea how to answer. I didn’t grow up dreaming about what my wedding dress would look like, or what type of flowers I’d have in my hand when I said my vows. In fact, had you asked me last year, I’d have told you I wouldn’t be getting married at all. Ever.

  “But I’m sure both of you are somewhat aware of the current situation with the dragon council.” She waited until we’d nodded before continuing. “With this wedding, Trian and I are doing what we can to keep Lord Relobu’s dream alive. My dream alive. We want a world in which humans and dragons can live peaceably, and as equals. But until we can convince each species to drop their fears and preconceptions, Relobu will never be able to get traction on worldwide laws on fair treatment of humans by dragons, and I’ll never be able to convince humans that dragons are more than dangerous monsters.”

  She sighed. “So Trian and I are willing to turn our marriage into a circus if it means moving the species’ perceptions of one another one step closer to acceptable. We’re all created from the same DNA. Well, at least partially so. It’s in everyone’s best interests that we remember that.”

  I gripped the edges of my notebook a little tighter to stop myself from clapping. It was clear from her impassioned speech that she really believed what she was saying, and I found myself agreeing. I had no idea whether this wedding thing would have the desired effect, but I was interested to stick around and find out.

  At least until I managed to find a way to slip a Tofegaard out of the house. Then I was gone.

  Startled at the wisp of regret the thought caused, I deliberately turned my attention back to Myrna. “Sorry. But I guess I don’t understand how this relates to moving the location of your wedding.”

  Amanda shot me a glare that clearly screamed “shut up, you stupid cow,” but Myrna just gave me a nervous laugh.

  “You’re right. I’m sorry. It appears I’m more rattled than I thought.” She reached into the satchel at her feet and pulled out a file, holding it out in front of her. For the first time, I noticed Myrna’s hands were shaking.

  Ignoring my boss’s glare, I leaned over to accept the folder. Opening it, I read the stack of papers inside. It didn’t take long before it became obvious that these were death threats. Some were scribbled ravings of the mentally ill,
easily ignored. But others were neatly typewritten pages filled with precise, measured speech that brought to mind formal church services with graying priests educating their flocks. A chill skated up my spine. There were people out there who wanted Myrna dead. Trian dead.

  I shuffled the pages.

  One filled with the large, jagged strokes of dragonscript stood out. Apparently humans weren’t the only ones who wanted the couple out of the spotlight. But it was the paper just behind the dragonscript that caused my hands to freeze. The page had one line: Cancel the wedding. Under that line was a picture of Myrna and Trian sitting together on a living room sofa, his head in her lap as they laughed about something. But the part that had made me go cold was the dragon’s claw framed into the picture, its gentle curve and razor-sharp edge stark against the homey scene.

  Whether the dragon was present at the time of the shot, or the image was superimposed later, it was clear that someone wanted the couple to know that this threat wasn’t coming from a human. That there were dragons out there—dragons, who had as a species proven themselves invulnerable to human weapons—that did not want this wedding to happen.

  I looked to Myrna, and she gave me a tight smile. “I had assumed that this type of thing is pretty normal with people in the public eye, but Relobu and Trian think otherwise. They say dragons wouldn’t do this unless they meant it. I tend to believe it.”

  Wow. She’d be right to believe it. I might be only half-dragon, but I’d worked with enough of them to know that they didn’t make idle threats. That letter was a direct challenge to Trian, as well as Trian’s dragon lord, Nir Relobu.

  “You need to cancel the wedding.” The words were out of my mouth before I could even think about them. Amanda gasped and moved toward me, and for a second, I thought she might actually hit me.

  Rule number one in the wedding planning business: don’t encourage the client to cancel the wedding.

  But I didn’t apologize. I may have just met this woman, but I knew that I didn’t want to see her die. These letters made it very clear that there were parties out there that were not happy about the races mixing, and several of them were prepared to take action. These letters spelled trouble.