Of Cinder and Bone

by Kyoko M

  “Bah. I’m up anyway. Just needed a moment to dig my Grimm’s fairytales out of the bookshelf. Comfy?”

  She curled up beneath the sheets and set the phone on her pillow, turning on the speakerphone. “Comfy.”

  “Good. Let’s start with the story of Rapunzel. Once upon a time, there was a man and a woman who had long, but to no avail, wished for a child…”

  ~*~

  “You sure you’re up for this?”

  “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

  Jack exhaled. “Watch much of the Discovery channel?”

  “Here and there.”

  “Well, consider that to be your primer, then. It’s not the same in real life, watching it happen right in front of you. That’s why Kam decided to step out until it’s over. That’s also why I had to fight the vets tooth-and-nail over it, no pun intended.”

  Faye’s lips twitched upward. “Lies and garbage. That pun was totally intended.”

  He snorted. “Maybe so. Sorry. The stuff we do as scientists can get pretty ugly sometimes. This is one of those times.”

  “Understood. Now get on with it.”

  Jack glanced at the pig currently on a leash at his feet, chomping down on a bucket of feed to keep it distracted, and then up at the fenced enclosure before him. About fifteen yards out, slumbering beneath the tree she was tethered to, lay the dragon. He cleared his throat and pushed the bucket out of reach with his foot, clicking his tongue to get the pig’s attention. He stepped forward towards the fence and nudged it inside, and then stepped in after it. He unsnapped its leash, rubbed its ears, and muttered an apology before sliding outside the enclosure. The pig started sniffing the grass and trotting around to inspect the new environment.

  Pete’s yellow eyes opened slowly.

  She lifted her head, nostrils flaring, and turned to look at the pig. She kept completely still as it ambled through the enclosure, having not spotted her yet since she was beneath the shade and nearly blended in with the grass because of her green scales. To her onlookers’ surprise, she lowered her head between her clawed feet and didn’t move a muscle as the pig came closer.

  “When’s the last time she ate?” Faye asked in a low voice.

  Jack checked his watch. “Four hours ago. We keep her on that schedule, since it seems to be how her metabolism runs now that we’ve regulated it.”

  “So, she should be hungry right now?”

  “Yeah.”

  The pig followed a meandering path until it was about twenty paces from the tree, its snout wiggling as it tried to figure out what it smelled. Again, Pete didn’t move. The pig stood poised, one front leg up, sniffing furiously, oinking under its breath in frustration. It lowered its leg and turned around to go the way it had come.

  Pete made one graceful, near-silent leap.

  The pig squealed as she pinned it beneath her enormous talons and went straight for its throat with her jaws. She bit into its neck. The pig let out a gurgling cry as blood flowed down its shoulder and sides, but it didn’t last long. The dragon jerked her head to one side abruptly and the pig went limp. The entire attack took less than ten seconds.

  Jack and Faye stood silent.

  “Well,” Jack said weakly. “Guess we have our answer about her hunting instincts.”

  “Yeah,” Faye said, her face bloodless. She wrapped her arms around her stomach, but didn’t look away as the dragon began tearing strips of meat from the pig’s corpse and devouring them whole, painting her belly scales and snout bright red. “That was… almost elegant, in a way. She didn’t let it suffer. Went straight for the throat like a lion or a crocodile.”

  “The neck-breaking is a surprise,” Jack said, withdrawing a pencil and pad from his coat pocket. His hands shook a tiny bit as he flipped to find a new page. “We measured her bite force at something pretty insane, so you’d think clamping down would kill her prey, but she actually twisted the neck to break it. Her instincts told her to be ultra-sure it was dead before eating. I saw her snatch a few birds out of the air, but she ate those in just one bite.”

  “Do you think she’d be interested in carrion, or does she prefer fresh meat?”

  “Hard to say. Before we brought her home, they were giving her fresh fish to eat, and she didn’t seem to have a problem with that. I don’t know if they tried feeding her leftovers.”

  “What can she digest?”

  “She strips livestock down to the skeleton. She can digest the bones in fish, but she seems to avoid it with things that have denser bones, like our unfortunate friend there.”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  Jack snuck a sidelong glance over at her. “You okay?”

  “Fine. I just don’t think I’m going to eat bacon for a week.”

  “You poor woman. A week without bacon is a week wasted.”

  Faye almost smiled, her blue eyes still locked on the predator. “Are you documenting this just with your notes?”

  “No. I had some hidden cameras installed to make sure no one’s messing with her when we aren’t here. The vets here are pretty great, though. I trust them to make sure she’s taken care of on the off hours.”

  “Well, this enclosure’s meant for livestock. What’s your long term plan for the other species?”

  Jack winced. “We’re, uh, working on that part. We’ve been in contact with the wildlife reserves in the state to see who’s willing to put them up, but it’ll take time. Reptile enclosures are mostly in zoos, and we don’t want to put her on display like a circus lion.”

  Faye eyed him. “Are you alright?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Your tone is off. That sounded awfully bitter.”

  “I’m fine.”

  She crossed her arms and faced him this time. “Y’know, I’m starting to think your trip to Japan has ruined your childlike innocence.”

  “Ha! When did I ever have any of that?”

  She tilted her head, squinting up at him. “You had a bit in you. That excited little boy charm you got when you talked about the project. I don’t know if it’s still there after the yakuza did what they did to you three.”

  Jack returned his gaze to his notes. “Cynicism is good for the soul.”

  “No, it’s not. Sure, you needed a reality check, but I hope you haven’t let this debacle make you stop believing in people.”

  He didn’t answer. She sighed. “Come on, Jack. Just because dragons were exploited in the past doesn’t mean history is going to repeat itself. Not when you and Kamala are at the helm.”

  “We won’t be the only ones at the helm.”

  Faye stilled. “What do you mean?”

  He sighed. “Kam told me what she had to do to find me when Yagami and Okegawa had me holed up in their R&D facility. She had to surrender information to Yagami’s sister, Keiko. Nothing’s surfaced yet, but you can be sure they’re cooking something over there.”

  “Dammit,” Faye muttered. “I’m sorry.”

  He shrugged. “We lost the battle, not the war. Nature is a good equalizer. If we do this right, then at least stateside the study and conservation of these animals will be regulated so that they aren’t being exploited. We’ll have the opportunity to make dreams come true.”

  “I was wrong.”

  Jack’s eyebrows lifted. “The almighty Faye just admitted fault. Wrong about what?”

  She grinned. “There’s that childlike wonder again. Dreams coming true? You’re so cute sometimes.”

  His cheeks burned as he scowled at her. “Shut up.”

  She laughed lightly. “You precious flower of a man, you. No way Kam will resist for long. How’s that going, by the way?”

  Jack shuffled his feet and coughed slightly. “She couldn’t sleep last night, so I read her some bedtime stories.”

  Faye stared. “You’re not joking, are you?”

  “No.”

  She buried her f
ace in one hand. “My God, you’re an idiot.”

  “What?” he protested. “She’s having nightmares, okay? What was I supposed to do? Seduce her? That’s a massive violation of trust, you know.”

  “Yes, but if you ever want out of the Friend Zone, you can’t do things like that. That’s something a family member would do. You want her to think of you as a suitor, right?”

  “Easy for you to say. I’m not exactly an expert at courtship, remember?”

  “No shit, Sherlock.” She drummed her fingers on the fence post. “You need to bounce back. Do something romantic. No, something irresistibly romantic.”

  “Yes,” he said with the utmost sarcasm. “I’ll get right on that. I’ll recite Shakespearean sonnets from the front lawn in her honor.”

  “Do you actually know any?”

  “No. Never was a Shakespeare buff. More a fan of mythology and religious texts.”

  Faye blinked at him. “Really? Religious texts? Wouldn’t have pegged you for that.”

  “Took some theology classes in undergrad. Somehow ended up reading the Quran, the Ramayana, the Bible, the Torah, to name a few. Honestly, it’s because I’m not really good with words, so I liked reading the works of people who are actually good at them.”

  “Ramayana, huh? She’d like that. Did you memorize any of it?”

  “Bits and pieces. I think one of my favorites was in Book Two, Canto Sixty Seven. I reread some of it on the flight into Tokyo, as a matter of fact.”

  He paused, remembering the words.

  “Strive, best of old Ikshváku's strain,

  Strive till the conquered foe be slain.

  Where is the profit or the joy

  If thy fierce rage the worlds destroy?

  Search till thou find the guilty foe,

  Then let thy hand no mercy show.”

  He offered her a sheepish grin then. “Sounds kind of cool when you’re charging into Tokyo to get your dragon back.”

  “You’re such a dork, Jack.”

  “If that’s the word for it,” Kamala said quietly.

  Both their heads snapped to the side as they spotted her standing there, one hand on her hip, a clipboard in the other, her expression unreadable.

  “Kam!” Jack wheezed. “Welcome back!”

  She walked a little closer and switched her gaze to the enclosure. “I see the deed is done. Did you learn what you needed to about her behavior?”

  Jack cleared his throat. “Y-Yeah, it’s consistent with the behavior model I predicted. I was going to give her enough time to finish eating and then see if she’ll let me give her a bath. It’ll spook people if she stays caked in pig’s blood. Might bring back memories of Carrie.”

  “Very well.” She held her hand out and he gave her the notepad. “I’ll transcribe your notes in the meantime.”

  Kamala turned and started going back inside while Jack and Faye sent each other panicked looks before she spoke again.

  “Oh, and Jack?”

  “Yes?” he squeaked.

  “Clear your evening. You’re making me dinner at your place tonight.”

  ~*~

  “Faye, what the hell is garnish?”

  He could hear a slight laugh in her voice as she answered. “You know when the chef has little green things on the plate after the meal’s all done?”

  “Yeah?”

  “That’s garnish. It’s optional. What does the recipe say?”

  Jack squinted at the iPad currently propped up on the counter next to his cell phone. “I think it wants me to use fresh parsley as garnish on top of the spaghetti.”

  “It’s fine. She’ll probably end up putting parmesan cheese on hers anyway. Have you strained the pasta yet?”

  “Ah, that’s what I forgot.” He turned and grabbed the still-bubbling noodles and poured them into the colander perched in the center of his sink, tilting his head back a bit so the steam issuing out didn’t blind him. He put the emptied pot into the other half of the sink and then stirred the marinara in the other pot on the stove before flipping the burner off. The oven beeped a moment later and he put on an oven mitt before opening it. He removed a flat, rectangular pan and set it on the unused burner.

  “How’s it look?” Faye asked.

  “Moment of truth,” he said, peeling back the aluminum foil. “Successful surgery, doctor.”

  “Very good. You may close.”

  He shut the oven door with his knee. “Does it really make a difference if I use real plates instead of paper ones?”

  “Of course. More romantic, remember? You want the illusion of a cozy, intimate setting, and that plays into it. Be careful not to squish the eggplants when you set them on the plate.”

  “Ugh-ugh,” he grunted as he grabbed a spatula. “Caveman no like eggplant. Caveman want fried brontosaurus.”

  “You can have that tomorrow night, Neanderthal. Is the wine breathing?”

  Jack turned to stare at the cell phone in disbelief. “What the hell does that mean?”

  The phone sighed. “Pour two glasses and swirl the wine around, genius.”

  “Oh.” He obeyed. “There, the Chianti is respirating. Happy?”

  “Ecstatic. May I point out to you that it’s mildly disturbing that I’m helping you with your date, with the woman I still sort of have feelings for?”

  “It occurred to me,” he said with a sigh. “But my folks are embroiled in their own sort of dust up right now and you’re the only person I know who has cooked for a vegetarian before.” He stood up straight for a second. “Oh my God.”

  “What?”

  “Faye… did we accidentally become best friends?”

  “Ew, no!” A pause. “Well, sort of. Whatever. I blame the trauma. You clearly have brain damage from the tussle in Tokyo.”

  He snorted as he used tongs to carefully drape the now-dry spaghetti noodles onto the china plates next to the eggplant parmesan. “Clearly. What’s your excuse?”

  “Well, I’m still trying to get into your pants, so there you go. I’m luring you into a false sense of security.”

  Jack choked on a laugh. “Right. How could I have forgotten?”

  He spooned the homemade marinara onto the spaghetti and walked over to the dining table, setting one plate at each end atop the doilies. He struck a match and lit the two tall candles in the center and wandered past the entertainment center, poking at the CD player. A moment later, the dulcet tones of Nat King Cole filled the air. After setting out the salad and bowls, utensils, and the half-full wine glasses, he took a deep breath and grabbed the phone as he surveyed the apartment. “Done. I think. Now I have just enough time for a quick panic attack before she gets here and we’re good to go.”

  Faye laughed softly. “Relax, Stilts. The hard part’s over. Just be yourself.”

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  “Honesty never hurt anyone.”

  “So they tell me.” He hesitated. “Thank you. Seriously. I know this can’t be easy for you—”

  “Nonsense. I told you I’m not going to pursue it. No hurt feelings, I promise.”

  “Would you tell me if there were?”

  “Were what?”

  “Hurt feelings,” he murmured.

  She didn’t answer immediately. “Maybe. We’ll see what happens. Good luck, Jack.”

  “Thanks, Faye. Bye.”

  Jack hung up and went into his bedroom to check himself in the mirror. He had convinced himself not to go full formal or it’d be borderline too weird: instead, he went with a white dress shirt, a navy vest, matching slacks, a burgundy silk tie, and black dress shoes. A few globs of holding gel kept the front of his hair from sticking up like usual. He had just finished putting on cologne when the doorbell rang, and he jumped like he’d been shot. Again, anyway.

  “You’ve got this, Jackson,” he muttered, walking through the
den. “Be yourself.”

  Nat King Cole was crooning about love and lightning strikes when Jack opened the door to see Kamala on his doorstep, dressed to kill.

  Red had always been her color, and she wore it well tonight in the form of a modest yet alluring cocktail dress. It was sheer at the top of the bodice and fluffed out a bit just below her knees over her low matching heels. She wore gold bangles on each arm and thin hoop earrings, but what drew his eye most of all was the scarlet lipstick. He couldn’t quit staring if he tried. The brightness of the color brought out the rich golden-bronze of her skin and clashed delightfully with her pitch-dark hair, which she’d left down, freshly washed and styled.