Live and Let Fly

by Karina Fabian

  I decided to play the loud obnoxious fool and see if someone would come in and make me shut up.

  Nigel, meanwhile, sat in a corner and moped, but I knew he was waiting.

  "Who would I call? How about that reporter lady? Bet Island Getaway would like to know how they treat their guests!" I shouted the last toward the cameras.

  "You mean the one you danced with?" He grabbed a piece of straw and started shredding it idly.

  Oookay. I had no idea where he was going with that.

  I said, "Could we focus on the real problem here? We are in prison!"

  "Yeah—and whose fault is that?" He tossed aside the straw he'd been playing with and stood. Despite it being somewhere around sixty-five degrees, he pulled off his still damp jacket and laid it flat on the straw. He had on a muscle shirt underneath—a dry muscle shirt, I noticed with some envy. Then he stretched and meandered—yes, meandered, imagine doing that in a six-foot-by-six-foot cell—to the bars and leaned on them, his back to me.

  If this were a movie, I'd have been the actor in the blooper reel with his mouth working frantically until he starts swearing and laughing and finally admits he doesn’t know his lines.

  However, a performance like that could get us killed.

  Which didn't change the fact that I had no idea what Charlie expected me to say next, so instead I started yelling again that I wanted a lawyer. "I've got rights!"

  Charlie spun around and yelled at me. "Will you give it a rest, Drake? We're not in bloody America! We're not even Americans! And if you want to exercise a right, how about the right to remain silent for once?"

  So I did. In fact, I gaped at him while desperately trying to figure out my expected role.

  Charlie continued at top volume. "Your mouth has gotten us into nothing but trouble from the start. 'Let's go to a pleasure island!' 'Let's explore the jungle like bloody treasure hunters!' 'Let's go to the party—you can sit in the bar while I dance and flirt with women!'"

  "Uhhhh..." Line? Line?

  "You're not talking your way out of this one, so just shut up!"

  Thank you.

  Charlie paced in front of the bars like a caged tiger; then spun back toward me. "You deserve every one of those bruises! I wish they'd come and hurt you some more! I wish they'd let me have a shot!"

  Oh! The old fight cliché! "Where are they, then? Huh? Let them put you in here! Even with my hands cuffed behind my back, you're no match for me!"

  "Maybe I can get them to bring me a phone so I can shove it down your throat!"

  "Try it, big boy!"

  Big boy?

  We got dangerously close to another one of those blooper moments. Fortunately, the door clanged open, and the guard stepped in. We froze like two kids caught by the principal in a school where the switch was still allowed. It was the same guard who had gotten his kicks from kicking me around. I winced at the anticipation of pain but concentrated on keeping my imaginary tail up and out of his way until I could wrap it around his neck.

  He glared at me then at Nigel. His face softened.

  "You really want to hurt him?"

  His eyes hooded, his mouth set, Nigel nodded.

  The guard sighed. "I got told not to get near that animal's cage until after Miss Li comes to talk to him. Gonna be a couple hours yet."

  "Couldn't you shoot him from a distance?"

  "Hey! Let's not be talking about shooting!" I shouted, but neither was looking at me.

  "What about his proposal?"

  "What?" The word slipped out of my mouth.

  "He saw us, Drake, the other day. He saw you give me the ring. Could it really be only three days ago?" Nigel shook his head.

  "What's that got to do with us being in jail?" I so wish someone had sent me the script!

  I'm much better at improv when I'm in dragon form.

  Tall, Dark, and Menacing just sneered at me. "What did you see in him?" he asked Nigel.

  Wait! I know this cue! "It's complicated!" I shouted.

  "But this doesn't have to be," Nigel said.

  My next line came out something like, "uh, wha?" It didn't matter. TDM had sauntered closer to Nigel's cell.

  "What do you mean?" he said, asking the question I wanted to know, too.

  Nigel leaned against the bars with a sad half-smile on his face. "There are other ways of hurting someone, you know." He stroked the bar with one hand.

  I watched TDM's eyes slide up then down, following Nigel's hand.

  He asked, "How do I know you're not trying to escape?"

  "What do I have to do to prove it to you?"

  He actually bit his lip while considering. Creepy. "Put your hands on the bars and stick your face through."

  Nigel complied, and the guard used his handcuffs to imprison one of Nigel’s wrists. Then he grabbed the other wrist and pinned it down while he kissed Nigel.

  I didn't even manage an “uh, wha.”

  When he pulled away, Nigel just raised his eyebrows at him and stepped aside from the door. Our now eager guard fumbled with the keys, combo, and thumb lock; then locked them both in the cell. Nigel reached up, ran his fingers through the guard's hair—

  And slammed his head against the bars.

  As Tall, Dark, and Unconscious slid to the ground, Charlie nabbed his keys out of his pocket. He used them to unlock his handcuffs, and the cell door.

  "How did you know he was...?" I asked as he dragged him to the door.

  Charlie snapped, "I have good gaydar. What's the combo?"

  I called out the combination for the second lock, and he dragged the guard up and pressed his thumb against the third lock. I let out a cheer as the door sprang open. He pulled off Sleeping Beauty's gun belt, put it around his own waist, and made sure there weren’t any other weapons or useful items. Then he grabbed his jacket.

  Finally, Charlie dragged the guard over to me, and we did the whole lock routine again.

  He pulled the guard in with us, cuffed him, and freed my hands. We gagged the guard then used the other cuffs to attach him to the hook in the wall.

  "That was very...convincing," I told him as we headed out the cell door. I listened hard, but as far as I could tell, no one had noticed.

  Charlie snarled. "When this is over, I want a priest and some Listerine! And we will not speak of this to my fiancé!"

  He dashed through, grabbing the cell door.

  I glanced toward our escape route; saw the locks.

  "No! Wait!"

  He swung the cell door shut.

  "Damsels and Knights!"

  He looked from me to the cellblock door, which also had a thumb lock, then to the guard we had just sealed inside a cell we could no longer get into. He breathed a curse.

  "What do we do now?" he asked.

  "Magic? And prayer!"

  We headed to the door. Maybe St. Zita, patron saint of keys, could do something with thumb locks.

  The lock flashed green and clicked before I'd had a chance to do anything. Quickly, we pressed our backs on the walls on either side of the door. Charlie drew the gun and turned it so he had it by the barrel.

  Before he could pistol whip the guard, however, we saw Rak already holding a gun to his head. From the dazed expression on his face and the way Grace was singing, I didn't think it mattered. She had him in thrall.

  "Well, that simplifies things," Rak said as he glanced at us. He pushed the unfortunate guard through the door. Grace followed, still humming, trailed by—

  "Heather?" Charlie hissed. "What are you doing here?"

  "Saving your heroic butt!" she said.

  She was dressed in one of Grace's "ninja" outfits. It didn't quite fit. I saw her bare ankles between the hem of the pants and her own sneakers. I caught a hint of purple between the straining buttons of the shirt. She must have tossed it on over the swimsuit she'd worn to meet Charlie. She also had one of Rak's guns, which she was using to cover the door. Not that she would have been effective, standing in the doorway itself and making a pe
rfect target.

  Charlie pulled her behind him. He took the gun from her hands and tossed it to me. Like I could shoot any better than her. At least I caught it without it going off.

  Oh, the safety was still on.

  Charlie snarled. "I told you to go back to your room!"

  "No, Vern told me to go back to my room."

  "What?" That seemed to be my line for this act.

  "Can we discuss this elsewhere?" Rak demanded. He and Grace were tying up his Enthralled Thrall in a separate cell.

  "How did you two escape, anyway?" Heather asked to change the subject.

  Charlie's mouth worked, but nothing came out.

  "Uh, good acting?" I suggested.

  Heather rolled her eyes and sighed theatrically. "Don't tell me he fell for the 'Help me, I'm sick!' routine."

  I and Charlie exchanged looks.

  "Okay," we agreed.

  * * * *

  Once we were out of the jail area and among the pipes, discarded equipment, and other disregarded junk in a dark access tunnel, Heather explained. "When I saw the two of you captured, I went running for help. I knew Grace had to be around, and I was so scared she'd be in disguise like you, Vern, but fortunately, I ran into Mr. Stapleton—"

  "Wait a minute! How did you know it was me?" I demanded.

  "No one calls Charlie my 'intended' but a Faerie, and no one calls me 'princess' but you."

  Behind me, I heard Grace sigh.

  Rak took up the story. "So she found me, and since it was obvious she knew more than she should, I took her to Grace. Heather told us what happened, and we came looking for you.

  Now aren't you glad you got chipped?"

  "That doesn't explain why she's here," Charlie said. He hadn't let go of her hand since we left the cellblock. Good thing he could shoot left-handed. I'd given Heather back the gun; if there was trouble, I intended to "go dragon."

  I just might transform, anyway, my teeth were chattering so hard. My clothes were mostly but not fully dry, and my shoes no longer squelched, but they still felt squishy and damp on the inside.

  In front of us, I heard Grace muttering a prayer to St. Anthony as she led the way.

  A few minutes later, she called a halt near a side door. Rak and Charlie took covering positions a little ways away, while she tested the handle slowly. It swung open without even a groan of protest. She gave a short hisst! to Charlie and Rak, and we all ducked in.

  She and Rak stuck their backpacks against the crack in the threshold, and we turned on the lights. The large room contained boxes bearing labels: Utility Uniform Shirt, Black. Utility Pants, Black. Combat Boots...

  Grace had found Minion Wardrobe. Thank you, St. Anthony!

  We whispered our sizes and everyone quickly went through boxes to find me and Charlie outfits. Grace made sure Heather kept her back turned while we changed.

  "No peeking," I teased. I'm sure the others thought it was for them, but I was looking at Charlie.

  He responded by pointing at me and mouthing, Next time!

  Next time, I get to kiss the guard. I shrugged. Dragons are androgynous. I wondered if it would matter.

  It was a relief to get out of the damp clothes and into dry shoes as well. I had begun to wonder how fast humans got gangrene. My throat was sore from yelling and vomiting a pond's worth of water, not to mention my also-emptied stomach had started complaining—

  Wow. What a whiner I was. All I needed were multiple degrees in hard sciences.

  Rather than carry our old clothes around, we stuffed them into the bottom of one of the boxes. I listened at the door. Nothing but a couple of rats for as far as I could hear. I nodded to the others, and we made a huddle. It'd been half an hour or so since our escape. Five more minutes wouldn't mean much if we just ran, but could make a difference if we used it to plan.

  Rak pulled out some paper from his backpack and spread it out in the center. It was one of the maps the brownies had thoughtfully placed in Grace's Evil Overlord file under the subfile Useful. We hadn't known what it was for, but when a quantum creature who operates outside linear time tells us something might prove useful, we listen.

  Overtop that, he set a schematic of a nuclear power plant. I could tell because the reaction chamber was clearly marked. Otherwise, I could have been looking at a map of NASA Mission Control or a telemarketing firm for all I knew. I was starting to think general hari-kari was our best bet again, but Rak apparently had gotten help from BILE.

  "We should be getting some back-up this evening, so our best plan is to create a stall in their plans. The easiest thing to do and the hardest to fix would be to disable the control rods while they are lowered. Control rods in; no reaction. So we split into two teams. Grace, Vern, and I will make our way to the reactor."

  Rak traced the route backward, stopping and tapping his finger on the small box labeled

  "clothing storage."

  "And I thought you'd used magic," I said to Grace.

  She smiled, though her eyes were dark with worry. "I've already used about a third of what I have getting us this far. The less I use the better."

  "No argument from me."

  Rak was tracing a route with a yellow highlighter. He said to Charlie, "You follow this path to an exit below the facility property line. It has the least number of assigned guards, but that's no guarantee you won't run into some. From there, you can follow the road to the hotel."

  "Hotel?" Heather hissed. "What about the mission?"

  "My mission is to get you out of danger," Charlie hissed back.

  "No way! I'm not coming between you and your work."

  We all looked at her like she'd gone insane.

  "It's a little late for that, Miss Haskell," Rak said diplomatically. Then ruined the effect by adding, "So you just be a good little girl and follow your fiancé to safety."

  Charlie stuck his hand over Heather's mouth before she could shriek her reply. He forced her to turn her head toward him and look him in the eyes. "Luv, you can't go with us. You don't have the training, Mundane or magical. You could accidentally make a mistake that could endanger us all. And if anything happened to you—"

  Grace added, "Heather, Charlie's first priority is protecting you. It always will be; he's a Faerie male. If he has to divide between protecting you and finishing this mission, he'll make mistakes, too."

  "I'm sorry," she whispered. I saw her eyes start to fill.

  I snorted softly. "Don't be. If you hadn't done what you did, I and Charlie would have been stuck in the dungeon trying to break back into the cell to free the guard. Though I suppose I could have bitten off his thumb."

  "Eww!"

  Rak cleared his throat, and we returned our attention to him as he went over the details, from how to lower the rods to potential obstacles on the way. In addition to guards, doors, and the usual surveillance devices, there were also cryptic squiglies that indicated something without specifying what. Finally, we divided what we had between the teams. Charlie and Heather took a pack with two night vision goggles, extra ammo, and a signal flare. Grace gave them each a couple of the stealth charms she'd brought, as well scapulars and some medallions for protection and healing. Finally, she murmured a prayer over the St. Anthony charm and gave it to Heather.

  "If anything happens, and you and Charlie are separated, say a prayer to find your way to safety.

  Not the hotel. Safety. Understand?"

  Heather gulped and nodded.

  Rak asked, "Vern, got our route memorized?" and when I nodded, handed the map to Charlie. "Get her safe."

  He paused and looked each one of us in the eyes, slowly. "It's crunch time. We're behind enemy lines. I know everyone will do their best, but understand: In operations like these, someone might get killed."

  I raised my eyebrows. "Don't look at me."

  Heather clutched Charlie's arm. "I've got too much to live for!"

  Charlie shrugged. "I volunteer you, mate."

  Grace rolled her eyes. "I think thi
s is one cliché we can dispense with."

  Rak sighed to himself like we were all lunatics, but there wasn't anything he could do about it. I think he actually resisted the temptation for some kind of team handshake, however.

  He stood and pulled the backpack on, and Charlie did the same with his. Before we moved out, however, Grace grabbed my hand and Rak's. I reached out and took Heather's, who took Charlie's, who completed the circle by taking Rak's. We stood for a moment with heads bowed while Grace whispered a quick yet heartfelt prayer. I felt a warmth spread over me for the first time since that morning. Grace's hands stopped their trembling, and I could feel her relax, reassured God would go with us, no matter what.

  I listened at the door. Nothing. I thought about sticking my nose out and sniffing around, but after their "ocean experience," my sinuses were stuffy and my sense of smell diminished to around human levels. Ears and eyes, then.

  I led the way down the hall to the fork where we parted ways.

  Chapter Nineteen: The Vern Identity

  Fifteen minutes later, I was thinking I should have been the one to take Heather to safety.

  The tense but otherwise quiet walk to the reactor had given my body time to remember its beating; my throat was burning from the saltwater and the yelling, and my sinuses, not content with the cotton-ball sensation, decided to hold a heavy metal concert between my eyes. The effect on my head was rather like being stuck behind the car of some teenager whose goal in life was to go deaf by twenty-five.

  I tried not to complain, about my discomfort, anyway. "I hope splitting up was a good idea. I feel like a Scooby Doo episode."

  Rak snickered, "Since when did Daphne get to go off alone with Shaggy?"

  "So that makes you Scooby?" I countered.

  "In your dreams, dragon. In your dreams."

  Grace chuckled, too. "Well, I don't mind being Velma. She usually had a good head on her shoulders."

  Human bodies feel their limits more easily than dragons, and I couldn't block all the signals. I'd already drained one canteen of water and had to concentrate on not panting or wincing. Grace had given me some beseeching glances, but I'd forced myself to shake my head. I did not want her wasting her magic on healing me.