The Dragon Protector

by Noah Harris

  “Well, now that Travis is taken care of.” Ronnie nodded encouragingly, and Jack sucked his cheeks in. “I don’t think you should go back to LA.” He hesitated, and Ronnie tried to hide his smile. He hadn’t planned on it. “I mean, you can. But I don’t want you to.”

  “Okay,” he said, and Jack looked at him suddenly.

  “Okay?” he chuckled, and Ronnie nodded.

  “I miss working, you know, but I don’t miss LA. I never really liked it there. Everyone out for themselves, not caring who they hurt in the process. Stepping on heads to get to the top…it’ll be nice to retire from that.”

  “Well, about working…” Jack trailed off, and Ronnie scooted closer to him, holding his hands which had begun to fidget. “I don’t know if you’ll want to do this, and it’s just an idea,” he said, and Ronnie pulled on his arms.

  “Just tell me, you big softy,” he said, and Jack glared at him playfully.

  “I was thinking you could teach acting classes, down the street. Maybe even direct plays? The old theater closed years ago. It’s small, but we could clean it up, renovate it, make it yours.” Ronnie jumped into his lap, excitement coursing through him.

  “That is a great idea!” he exclaimed, hugging Jack tightly. Jack chuckled again and hugged him back, burying his face in Ronnie’s neck.

  “I’m glad you think so. I-I want you to stay here.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Ronnie continued walking down the street, a small, reminiscent smile on his face. The cafés, bakeries and restaurants were all open today, and the smell of fresh-baked pastries, breads and delicious, mouth-watering food floated down the street. He could hear music pouring out of the second-and-third floor windows of the apartment buildings.

  At first, he’d been worried, he wasn’t a dragon, he wasn’t a shifter at all. There was a steep learning curve to it all, understanding the culture behind it was even more complicated than accepting the existence of shifters in the first place.

  He’d learned that there was a whole industry of dragon-made wine, that they only flew together on stormy nights. That all dragons were a different color, Jack, black as midnight, usually led the flights on their journeys. Children began manifesting their shifter skills as soon as a few months after their birth, but couldn’t shift until their teenage years. There was a whole language that dragons spoke, although it was less common now. All of these things and more, Ronnie had learned over the past few weeks, and he still felt like he was getting surprised.

  Despite it all, though, Ronnie felt more normal on Drake Street than he had anywhere, maybe in his entire life. He wasn’t a child celebrity, an influencer, or a stalking victim here on Drake Street like he was in LA. He was just Ronnie, pregnant and in a serious, loving, everlasting relationship.

  Jack, unexpectedly, had quite the reputation on Drake Street, a hard-ass, silent and strong, wary and unyielding and with no desire for friends or a social life. But with Ronnie, he’d blossomed. They frequented Die Drachenmutter on the nights he wasn’t busy with Travis, an underground restaurant, bar, and stage for Clara’s flight. They’d made many friends there, watching the other dragons in the community perform their own talents. He remembered, specifically, a silver-bearded regular at the restaurant who performed songs in the native Dragon language every Saturday. Now, Ronnie smiled just thinking about it, he was surrounded by real friends who just happened to be dragons, and their children, who just happened to be dragons, too.

  It was a very different kind of stardom here. He was Ronnie, Jack’s adorable, compassionate and friendly mate, a soon-to-be regular contributor and visitor at the Drake Street Home, and, hopefully, the community theater teacher. It was everything he’d always hoped he’d be, without being able to articulate it.

  “Ronnie!” shouted one of their new friends from across the street, one of the other human mates, Lily. He waved at her, a big grin on his face, and she rubbed her own pregnant stomach knowingly. He mimed feeling sick, and she laughed, then continued walking, hiking a mesh bag full of fruit and vegetables higher on her shoulder. The sun shone on Ronnie’s back warmly as he continued.

  “How’re sales, Manny?” he asked, approaching the man who had been selling the stained-glass artwork at the fair. He grinned, rubbing his goatee thoughtfully.

  “Slower today, but I’m doing alright. Kicking?” he asked cryptically, nodding at a stranger who approached the storefront and looked in one of the windows.

  “Not yet,” Ronnie said, looking down at his slightly rounded stomach, it wasn’t anything noticeable, more like he was bloated. But it felt different, like he was carrying something powerful, an energy inside his body. The stranger walked away with a wave, and Manny reached out to place his palm on Ronnie’s stomach.

  “Mm. A few more weeks, and you will feel it,” he said with a wink. Ronnie grinned and patted Manny’s hand before he drew it away.

  “See you later, Manny.” He’d gotten used to the dragons on Drake Street, ones he knew, and ones he didn’t, reaching out and cupping his bloated belly knowingly, grinning at him and sniffing the air. He’d always giggle in surprise, and they’d introduce one another, the new friend always noting that they knew of Jack somehow, simply because he was so tightly connected to Clara.

  Almost to Fort Anaheim, Ronnie stopped at the café that Lily’s mate, Guinevere, owned. It was unnamed, with a simple swinging sign that depicted a clawed hand holding a cup of coffee. Most humans on Drake Street frequented the other cafés that had more traction on social media, so Guinevere’s mostly hosted dragons.

  “Guin,” Ronnie greeted her as he walked in, and she turned around, her blonde hair piled in a messy bun on top of her head that wobbled when she moved. Her teeth were blindingly white, if she’d wanted to, she could’ve modeled.

  “Ronnie! Where’s Jack?” she asked, half-turning back to the machine and pressing a few buttons. She picked up a mug and held it in her hands, a trick he’d seen her do before. She was warming it with the fire that coursed through her veins.

  “He’s at home. I was just running some errands,” he explained, leaning on the counter.

  “Your regular?”

  “Yes, please,” he said with a grateful smile. She disappeared behind the counter, and he could hear her moving things around.

  “I’m on my way home now, though. I saw Lily,” he said, and Guinevere popped back out from behind the counter, looking wistful.

  “She’s so pregnant, Ronnie,” she said, then let out a long sigh. “She really looks like an angel. I’ll be happy when it’s over, though. She’s tired. You’ll know what I mean in a few weeks,” she said, handing him the coffee. “Iced caramel macchiato, decaf with coconut milk.”

  “Thank you. I’m not looking forward to it,” he joked, and she waved him off, fingering the gauge in her right ear.

  “It’s all worth it. Tell Jack I said hi, yeah?”

  “Of course. See you soon, Guin.” Back out in the sunlight, he sipped his coffee and waited to cross the street. The gates to Fort Anaheim, closed when he had first arrived, were now wide open. He could see the front door was propped open as well, and he strolled across the road to the property. Music filled his ears the moment he stepped through the gates, and he smiled. He had thought, and so had Jack, that they might want to move out into the village, maybe one of the apartment buildings their friends lived in. But the gates to Fort Anaheim were always open, now, and it seemed like Jack finally felt like he could feel at home there. Ronnie didn’t care where they lived, he just wanted to be with Jack. And at the newly warm and comforting Fort Anaheim, with his family, was where Jack should be.

  The song was one he didn’t recognize, airy and otherworldly, in a different language that sounded ancient and fluid. Ronnie walked into the parlor and saw Clara standing beside the piano they’d taken out of storage, Rita, the eldest servant, playing it expertly. Clara led a group of small children in song with her crystalline voice, looking younger and happier than
she had during that first meeting Ronnie had had with her and, he was sure, happier than she had in the past decade.

  The children belonged to the dragons of Drake Street, and Clara watched them lovingly as they sang along with her. Portia sat on the couch, tapping away on her phone but occasionally looking at Clara happily. She’d told Ronnie, a few days ago, that this was the first time since Portia was little that Clara had spent time around children. Ronnie was sure it was because she was scared she’d make the same mistakes she’d made with Jack, but that was reconciled, and now she could return to her passion and helping the community, and all its members. Clara spotted Ronnie and then smiled down at the children.

  “Okay, little ones. Break-time. Rita will make you lunch,” Clara said, sounding winded but joyful. Rita stood up and took a few of their little outstretched hands, rubbing their palms with her wrinkled fingers.

  “Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?” The children roared in delight, and Clara laughed, the sound like a tinkling bell. She walked toward Ronnie, linking her arm in his, and led him out to the back garden, onto the patio. They stood in the sun for a moment, and Ronnie glanced at her curiously. Why’d she bring him out here?

  “The sun has never shone on my home so brightly, I think,” she said suddenly, her eyes closed, her face upturned toward the sun. “I could swear it’s because of you, and that little bun in your oven.” Ronnie blushed, laughing indulgently.

  “I think it’s all of us. Being together, like this,” he said, and she squeezed his arm affectionately.

  “Well, together is a good place to be.” She paused and then eyed him seriously. “I believe it would be appropriate for you to share Drake Street’s secrets with your loved ones.” Ronnie’s jaw nearly dropped, but he hugged her. He could sense, in her seriousness and in the beauty of the garden, that this was a great honor she was bestowing upon him. Clara hugged him with another laugh and rubbed his back maternally. He felt, truly, like he finally belonged somewhere that he was wanted. A family, and he would protect them with his life.

  “I think Lucy will be the only one that gets the privilege of knowing the truth,” he said. He thought about his parents, abandoning him, his fellow celebrities that were shallow, whatever friends he had were only around because of his reputation. Lucy was genuine, she deserved to know the love of this home.

  “I think that is a wise choice. Now, I think I am keeping you away from your mate,” she said, and he looked behind them, not realizing Jack was standing in the doorway, watching them with a sunny, crooked smile. Ronnie’s heart fluttered in his chest and he grinned back at Jack. Sometimes he thought of the Jack that had greeted him at the door when he’d arrived at Fort Anaheim, cold, distant and inflexible. This Jack, his Jack, was warm and protective, respectful and supportive and nearly always smiling. Clara walked off into the gardens, and Ronnie joined Jack in the doorway.

  “Well, hello,” Ronnie said playfully, and Jack leaned down and kissed his forehead.

  “How was the Home? Is Travis there?”

  “Not yet, but the Home is wonderful, actually,” Ronnie said, feeling excited, he wanted to tell Jack about the new wing he’d be funding. “They were trying to open this new wing, and, well, remember that money we’d be getting from Perry’s settlement?”

  “The blood-money we don’t really need?” Jack said with a jokey smile, obviously following him. Another change that made Ronnie’s heart feel full to bursting. He was so chatty and willing to laugh now.

  “I decided to use some of it for the wing. For something good.” Jack smiled proudly at him, reaching down to hold his hand tenderly.

  “We are all lucky to have you, you know?” he said, and Ronnie raised onto his tiptoes to kiss Jack sweetly. “Especially me.” Jack wrapped his arm around Ronnie’s waist, pulling him gently against him and returned the kiss deeply. Ronnie mewled against him, but then Jack stumbled into him in surprise.

  “Stop being gross. The kids want to play tag,” Portia said, peeking around Jack’s enormous form to grin at Ronnie. “Sorry, Ronnie.”

  “It’s okay, Poe. Tag it is,” Ronnie said, and Jack turned and hoisted Portia over his shoulder. She laughed and shrieked, slapping his shoulders. Sparks bounced from her hands. He put her down, and she shoved him playfully, and he shouted into the manor.

  “Who wants to play tag?” The kids came bounding down the hallway, and he picked a few of them up, propping them up on his shoulders and swinging them around. They squealed as he carried them down onto the lawn, Portia corralling the other children to follow him.

  Ronnie smiled as he watched them, sometimes he feared that this new side of Jack, the one that had always hidden beneath the surface, was just part of the honeymoon phase. But times like these reminded him it wasn’t a honeymoon phase, it was Jack finally being truly happy. He stood there for a moment, hugging himself and watching the children run circuits around Jack’s hulking figure, and then he noticed someone standing next to him.

  He stiffened, Frankie J had joined him, watching the scene. She seemed critical, and Ronnie smiled tightly at her. It wasn’t that he didn’t like her, or was scared of her, but the time he’d spent here before and after the situation with Travis had proven she was just as much of a hardass as Jack, albeit a bit more in touch with her emotions. Even with Clara’s blessing, he wasn’t sure how he fit in with Frankie J and Portia, Jack’s first family.

  “I have known that man for twenty years. I’ve seen him smile before,” Frankie J said slowly, glancing over at him. He looked at her as she spoke, and after a moment, she smiled warmly. “But I’ve never heard him like this. You know,” she said, leaning in a bit. He felt a conspiratorial air between them, more friendly than they’d been before, and he leaned in, too. “I hated him for a long time. It was like there was a part of him he was hiding from me on purpose. A side to him he knew I wanted to know, but he wouldn’t let me see. I loved him, like humans love.” Ronnie felt a small twinge of guilt as she said this. “But that’s what we’re looking at, that side of him. And I realize, now,” she said, her eyes kind, accepting. “It’s not anything I could have done. He wasn’t doing it on purpose. He just hadn’t met you yet.”

  Ronnie stammered, the guilt in his chest expanding. He wasn’t sure what to say, he felt like he’d stolen something from Frankie J, even though she said herself she’d never really had it.

  “I’m…I’m sorry,” Ronnie finally said, haltingly, and she shook her head. She reached out and took his hands in hers, squeezing them. Her fingers were rough, calloused, and he looked up at her in confusion.

  “I have my daughter. That’s not my point. The point is that if he was still waiting for you, then I’m still waiting for somebody.” For the first time in the weeks he’d known her, Frankie’s face softened. Maybe it was a trick of the light, but her eyes seemed to glisten with tears. “There’s still somebody out there for me. And that doesn’t feel like a wish, or a hope, anymore.” She pulled one hand away from him and wiped her eyes quickly, looking down in embarrassment. Then she cleared her throat. “It feels like certainty.” Ronnie bit his lip, feeling tears gather in his eyes, and nodded. She gave him a watery smile and looked back at Jack and Portia and the children. Ronnie did the same, and they stood together.

  He knew they would never be best friends, there was too much history there, too much pain for Frankie J But their short conversation, their mutual shedding of tears and reconciling their places in Jack’s life…it all felt like an understanding had been reached between them. He had gotten Clara and Frankie J’s blessing, and that was good enough for him. He was Jack’s mate, but he was also a part of the family now. That much was evident.

  Jack jogged around the yard, either outrunning the kids and then suddenly stopping and letting them tag him, or chasing them slowly and pretending he couldn’t catch them. They laughed and shrieked in glee as he picked them up and swung them around. Ronnie felt light, full of airy joy, as he watched Jack interact with them. Portia was ru
nning around with them, too, laughing uncharacteristically loud, looking completely at ease.

  “Children!” Rita shouted, and they all stopped in their tracks and looked up. Jack was breathing heavily from laughing as he ran, and he shrugged at Portia as they ran into the house. Frankie J sat down on the stone retaining wall of the garden, and patted the spot beside her, Ronnie joined her, watching Jack and Portia talk at the end of the yard, unable to hear what they were saying.

  Suddenly Jack was on his hands and knees, and Portia was mirroring him. He said something to her, and she nodded, looking down at the ground. He watched her, as did Ronnie and Frankie J who had abruptly grabbed Ronnie’s hand.

  “What? What’s happening?”

  “He’s teaching her to shift,” Frankie J said in a hushed voice, and Ronnie twisted quickly to watch. Portia beat her fist on the ground, clearly struggling, and Jack crawled closer to her, still talking. “C’mon, baby,” Frankie J mumbled behind Ronnie, and then she gasped.

  Portia’s body was undulating, stretching, she was digging her fingers into the ground, no, her claws, she had claws. She raised her face to the sky, looking like she was in pain, as her skin started to glisten with sweat. Then, suddenly, it wasn’t sweat, her skin was shining with scales, glittering in the sun like green sea-glass, her face lengthening and snarling into a sharp-fanged muzzle.

  Wings, iridescent and paper-thin, sprouted from her back, and she let out a vibrating growl that seemed to shake the manor itself. Jack jumped to his feet and whooped as dragon-Portia looked around in confusion, raising onto her back legs. Her belly was pearly-white.

  “Yes!” Frankie J shouted, jumping up and down. “You did it, baby! Portia!” Ronnie watched in awe as Portia stretched her muscular arms and legs, flexed her clawed fingers, elongated her neck toward the sky. Jack had his fists raised over his head, staring up at her proudly. Ronnie thought about the little being forming in his belly, that someday it would do exactly this, embrace its animal nature, with Jack and Ronnie by its side cheering it on.