by Noah Harris
Fire, dangerous and volatile, exchanged for this air, this song, gentle and soothing.
Epilogue
Drake Street. The newfound cultural hub of Texas, where artists, performers, influencers, and manic depressives found their home or, at least, their haven. Brick buildings painted with colorful murals lined the street, host to artisanal coffee and pastry shops, seemingly ancient bookstores, and a plethora of restaurants whose menus seemed to change daily. During the night, the street would be lit up in a flare of flashing lights from the classy nightclubs, tethered in velvet rope, and warm hanging bulbs from fragrant patio dining rooms.
Welcome to Drake Street.
It’s also so much more. Drake Street is where Shaeffer Gipson and Konrad Fontaine found each other, lost each other, and found each other again. Drake Street is where Clara Anaheim, queen of the dragons, takes in those who need her help and becomes their family until they create a new one. Drake Street is where Konrad found his mate, and he and Shaeffer made a home for their broken bodies and souls; where they started a family, taking the first step in healing the wounds from their pasts.
Shaeffer Gipson and Konrad Fontaine still lived on Drake Street, and so did most of the people they knew, new friends. They stood outside an underground restaurant, one that many of Drake Street’s wannabe occupants had no idea existed. Die Drachenmutter, sounding more terrifying than it was, was at the end of a Drake Street back alley, at the bottom of a rickety wooden staircase. Die Drachenmutter was a hidden restaurant for Clara’s flight, a bar and restaurant where members of her flight could gather to socialize and new residents could get to know their community. It also hosted open mics every other Saturday.
Shaeffer and Konrad had been to Die Drachenmutter more times than they could count, now, about a year and a half later. Konrad had mentioned it in passing, noting he’d only been there a few times, and Shaeffer had begged him to go. He wanted to meet Konrad’s friends, his family. He wanted to meet more dragons, or even more humans like him who had fallen in love with a man from a community that, as far as most people knew, didn’t exist.
And Konrad, of course, had begrudgingly said yes.
Now they went almost every Saturday night, met up with the people they’d grown close to, and when Shaeffer had the baby, a pink-cheeked little girl they’d named Aiden. She took after Konrad, with silver tufts of hair on her head and sparks flying across the table when she slammed her palms playfully on its surface.
Konrad liked to remind Shaeffer that she had his eyes, as he’d been told by Fiona and Clara, and would probably have his teeth, with their endearing gaps.
Now, though, as they stood outside Die Drachenmutter, trying to settle Aiden before they went inside, Konrad was disarmingly quiet.
“Konrad,” Shaeffer said, prodding him with his foot. His arms were full and Aiden was screeching with laughter, the sound of it echoing off the walls of the alleyway.
“Mm?” He kept clenching and unclenching his fists. Shaeffer frowned and shushed Aiden, still watching him.
“Don’t be worried, okay? You’re going to do great.”
“I’m not worried,” he said unconvincingly, giving Shaeffer a brief, wavering smile. Then it was gone.
“Everyone in there loves you, you know. No one’s going to criticize you,” Shaeffer said. Konrad nodded jerkily, and then took Aiden, who he could feel reaching out for him, her hands patting his chest, pulling on his shirt. Her hair had gotten thicker, and longer, like a curtain of moonlight, and she did have Shaeffer’s eyes, pale green, like seafoam. She was going to be striking when she grew up, they both knew it. They also didn’t like to think about it. Now she was chubby, fingers grabbing whatever they could reach, hair always tangled no matter how many times they brushed it or tied it back.
“I know that,” Konrad said, and Aiden latched onto his neck, finally settling down. Apparently, she’d exhausted herself, laughing at the way her shrieks had bounced around in the alley.
“We should head in. We told Allison and Michelle we’d be there five minutes ago,” Shaeffer said, hiking Aiden’s bag higher on his shoulder. Konrad held the door open for him, and they walked inside, Shaeffer letting his eyes adjust to the lower lighting before guiding Konrad through the restaurant.
“Shaeffer!” came Allison’s gruff voice, and they grinned, Konrad’s smile more forced, and walked over to their usual table. “Michelle’s at the bar getting drinks. We got you the usual,” she winked at Shaeffer, and he sat down heavily next to her. Allison was muscular, more than Shaeffer, even more than Konrad. She owned several gyms around the city, and as a result, spent most of her time there training. She was also a bear, something Shaeffer had been completely blown away by. When she shifted in their apartment the last time they’d visited, a huge brown bear with tawny fur and formidable claws and teeth, he’d nearly fainted.
“Oh, you guys finally showed up,” Michelle called, coming up behind them with a tray of drinks. “And milk for sweet angel Aiden,” she said softly, putting a little glass of milk in front of Aiden’s reaching hands. Shaeffer poured it into her sippy cup and took her from Konrad.
“Thank you, Michelle,” Shaeffer beamed, and then they all turned on Konrad expectantly.
“What’s going on?” he asked. He was always irritable when he could tell a silence was directed at him.
“Aren’t you excited?” Michelle said sweetly, leaning forward. She was Allison’s polar opposite, a bit softer around the middle, looking every bit the compassionate caretaker she was during the day, babysitting or taking care of the elderly, depending on the week. When Shaeffer had first met them, he’d wondered how they’d met, why they were even together, and then he’d learned about mating, and how there was usually one person the universe had created to be your equal, your other half, your fated partner. Humans couldn’t sense it, but shifters could.
“Did you know I was yours?” Shaeffer had asked Konrad later that night, when they’d arrived home. Shaeffer had still been pregnant, only a few weeks from giving birth, and Konrad had sighed heavily.
“I knew this was going to come up,” he said slowly, and Shaeffer burst into tears.
“What if we’re not fated mates?” Shaeffer blubbered, wiping his face messily.
“Sweetheart, I know we are. I was just blinded by my own struggles at the time. Of course, we are. I didn’t know it for the longest time, but Clara helped me see it. All my senses were clouded by my own pain.” Konrad had pulled him carefully into his arms, rubbing his back soothingly.
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
Michelle was the human in their relationship, and Shaeffer had eventually gotten very close to her. Konrad was closer to Allison, who’d created a gym regimen for him. They didn’t want kids, Michelle always said there were too many children born to parents who weren’t ready to be parents, or weren’t willing to be good ones. She saw it every day. She wanted to take care of the ones who’d been born unfortunate, instead of getting caught up in her own life. Allison didn’t want kids to begin with. They loved Aiden, though, and always said Konrad and Shaeffer were the only parents they’d ever seen who seemed born to raise a rambunctious child.
“Who pissed in your cereal?” Allison asked Konrad when he didn’t reply. Konrad pursed his lips, taking a sip of his whiskey. He was excited, but he was also terrified. He knew about and had fostered his artistic talent for nearly his whole life but this was something completely new, something untried by him. He wasn’t sure how people were going to react.
Shaeffer had convinced Konrad to perform a new song he’d been working on at the open mic that night, after many long arguments and sullen silences from Konrad. He’d agreed, but he was not looking forward to it.
A child screamed at a nearby table, and Aiden screamed in response, clapping her hands joyfully.
“I’m just a little nervous. I’m allowed to be nervous, aren’t I? This is basically my first show all over again.”
“It�
�s going to be fine. You’re going to do great,” Shaeffer repeated, running his fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.
“Yeah, really, we’re excited to hear you,” Allison said, taking a deep drink from her beer. Shaeffer sipped his blackberry bourbon, watching Konrad carefully. Suddenly the clinking of silverware and sound of conversation wavered and seemed to die down, and they looked up at the stage, which was only set up certain weekends for this event. Normally, more tables sat where the stage was now.
“Hey, everybody.” A man had climbed onto the stage, willowy and thin. He grinned at everyone and Shaeffer noticed his canines, longer than even Konrad’s. “So, tonight’s our bi-monthly open mic, we have a few people signed up, and if anyone else would like to perform, the sheet’s over by the bar.” He gestured toward the bar, copper and dented, and a burly man behind it held up the clipboard. A few people hooted. Aiden giggled and howled with them, and Shaeffer bounced her on his lap, kissed her head. Konrad squeezed his hand nervously. He was second on the list, he knew that much.
“First we’ve got Lilian, you guys know Lilian!” A few more shouts and some scattered clapping. She approached the stage, a solid girl with dirty blonde hair, looking around fourteen or fifteen years old. She looked vaguely like a girl whose parents had forced her to do something. “Lilian’s going to be performing a…” he paused, looking down at the paper in his hand. “A song…I’m sorry, a flute solo. Here’s Lilian!”
She stomped up onto the stage, looked angrily off-stage, and then pulled her flute out of the case Shaeffer just noticed she’d been carrying. She leaned into the microphone, too close, and it came out loud and warbled.
“This is Aviary from Carnival of Animals.”
“You got this, Lilian!” Another withering stare off-stage, and she lifted the flute to her lips. The song was quick-paced and intricate, sounding like birdsong itself, and they all watched for a moment. Aiden cried out in excitement, slamming her hands on the table. Scorch marks were left there and Shaeffer winced, rubbing them with his napkin. Soon the song was over, and there was a pregnant pause before everyone began to applaud.
“That was great.” The announcer had come back up on stage. “Very pretty.” The girl packed her flute up quickly, stalking off the stage. “And from such a willful performer. Let’s give her another round of applause, please,” he said, the hint of laughter in his voice, and while everyone clapped he looked at his clipboard.
“I don’t think I can do this,” Konrad said suddenly in Shaeffer’s ear. He felt like he was going to vomit, and he was sure Shaeffer could tell. He couldn’t see how many people were in the restaurant, but he could hear them talking. It was too many.
“Honey,” Shaeffer began, but then they heard his name called from the stage.
“Konrad Fontaine. Let’s welcome Mr. Fontaine up here!” There was considerably more applause for Konrad, as many of the people in the restaurant either knew him personally or had seen his artwork. He felt glued to his chair, and Shaeffer nudged him.
“You don’t have to do this, but I think you’ll regret it if you chicken out,” he said seriously, and Konrad sighed, gritted his teeth, and stood up. Shaeffer was right. He was an artist, a performer. He was just presenting a different kind of artwork, this time. “Do you want my help?” Shaeffer asked, and Konrad shook his head stubbornly.
“Ah, there’s the man,” the announcer chuckled awkwardly, and he beckoned Konrad up to the stage. Konrad weaved his way carefully through the tables, smiling vacantly at people who greeted him or patted him on the arm as he passed.
He’d gotten fairly used to navigating without his sight, using his hands to subtly make sure he didn’t knock into anything, walking toe-to-heel to prevent himself from tripping. The announcer grabbed his arm, which startled Konrad slightly, and helped him up onto the stage.
“One more step, there you go.” He gritted his teeth, trying not to tear his arm away from the guy. He didn’t need anyone’s help, especially not this guy. Shaeffer was the only one who didn’t send him into a fury when he offered to help. “Microphone’s right here, there you go.” There you go. Konrad took a deep breath.
“This is a song I wrote,” he said shakily, and the announcer clapped behind him.
“Let’s all give Konrad our attention. What a story of recovery, right folks? Never abandoned his art; what an inspiration.” Konrad felt his cheeks burn, half with embarrassment, half with rage. He wanted to deck this guy, but it was almost like he could hear Shaeffer in the audience, sending him positive thoughts of encouragement and warnings of don’t-knock-this-guy-out-please. He could hear Aiden, shrieking excitedly, calling for him: Da! Da! Da-Da!
“So, yeah, this is a song that I wrote, it’s kind of a rough draft.”
“So humble,” the man said reverently, and Konrad squeezed his eyes shut to clear his mind before he turned around and threw him off the stage. Someone whistled. He heard the man clamber off the stage, and felt the quiet hush of everyone’s silence, their controlled breathing, the air in the room still.
He held the microphone close to his body and took a deep breath.
Shaeffer always cried when Konrad sang. His voice, like a soul-singer from another time, in a language from another world, serenaded him and only him. Konrad had always said that the songs were for him, only him. No one else. Everything he wrote was with Shaeffer in mind. It was his tribute to him. He would’ve created art, hundreds of canvases, hundreds of pyrotechnic displays, if he’d still had his vision. But this was his new talent, his new hobby, and this was how he could thank Shaeffer.
This song, though, Konrad had said was for Aiden, for their little blessing.
Shaeffer watched Konrad as he sang, low tones, no musical background. Just his haunting, spine-chilling voice honoring something, celebrating something only his soul knew, like a phoenix song. The sound filled the restaurant, and Shaeffer looked away from Konrad for only a moment to see everyone staring up at the stage, hands over their mouths or on their hearts. He saw a few people wiping their eyes discretely. Even the children were quiet.
Shaeffer looked down at Aiden, whose eyes were glossy and wide, staring up at her father. She was squeezing Shaeffer’s hand, two little ones grasping his big one, her body still.
And then the song ended, and Konrad cleared his throat. The room stayed silent, and then erupted.
“That was beautiful, Konrad,” someone shouted from another table, their voice sounding thick with tears. He smiled bashfully, self-consciously at them all, and Shaeffer stood up, feeling tears sliding down his face. Aiden was strangely calm in his arms, staring up at Konrad on the stage.
“I think…Konrad, thank you for that performance,” the announcer said, climbing awkwardly up onto the stage while everyone continued to clap.
Shaeffer walked past all the tables like he was being drawn to Konrad, his proud, embarrassed smile, his shaking hands. He climbed onto the stage with Aiden, and everyone clapped harder. He wasn’t sure why he’d gone up to the stage, if it was him or maybe the look on Aiden’s face that had compelled him to go to Konrad.
“And here is…this is Konrad’s husband and their child!” More whistles. Konrad turned toward them, and before Shaeffer could walk right into his arms, Aiden had reached her hands out for him. Shaeffer passed Aiden to him, and she buried her face in his neck, wrapping her arms and legs as tightly around him as she could. Konrad laughed in wonder, blinking a few times, and hugged her to his chest. Shaeffer bit back tears as everyone in the audience cooed.
“Shaeffer?”
“I’m here,” he said quickly, rushing over to him. Konrad pulled him in, and they sandwiched Aiden, hugging and kissing over her head.
They were blessed.
About the Author
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