Gods help me, I want to cry. Ignoring the politics surrounding it, I know with both of my hearts that rescuing this kid was the right thing to do.
He looks at the blood staining the shirt over my stomach. “Should I wrap that, too?”
“Don’t worry about it,” I say. “It’s almost healed.”
“Almost healed?” His eyebrows scrunch together as he stares at the stain. “The blood looks fresh.”
“Yeah, uh. I’m going to have to make this quick, but how much have they told you about what’s going on?”
“Nothing. Like, nothing at all. I’ve only seen Gesina and this big scary-looking man with gray eyes since I’ve been here. What’s going on, Kitty? Tell me the truth this time, please.” His words come spilling out of his mouth, fueled by fear and confusion.
“All right.” I take a deep breath. Then another. I move to stand at the door, still clutching the Yakuza’s gun, scanning for sounds of anyone entering the dorm hallway. I have to lean against the doorjamb more heavily than I’d like. “Reader’s Digest summary? I’m a sort of human-dragon shapeshifter. So is Sani. We’re rescuing you now, along with Agent Dominic Harris. And we have to be seen doing it so that we can maybe get all of the other people like us released from CIA’s custody.”
“Whoa.” Surprise, but not disbelief. He’s been waiting a long time for the truth.
“Oh yeah, and Gesina is an evil Japanese fox woman creature thing.”
“Whoa.”
I can’t help but laugh. “I know, right?”
“You’re a freaking dragon?” His eyes go wide and he looks me over like he might see something dragonish about me.
“Yeah, so is Sani.”
“Can I see?”
My head swims at the thought of changing. I groan. “Please, not right now.”
“Later, you promise?”
“Definitely. First, we need to find Sani and get the hell out of here before the Yakuza can regroup.”
Chapter Nineteen
I give myself three minutes—no more, despite Jacob’s protests—to rest and to heal. I’ve downed a bottle of water and a candy bar Jacob had in his room and I’m feeling almost alive. My brain feels like it’s spinning inside my head, but at least I can stand without stumbling. We’re walking to the stairway when the door leading downstairs swings open. I stop and shove Jacob behind me, wishing I’d kept that gun in my hand. I’m not sure how many more times I can change without passing the heck out but I let my dragon hover close to the surface, just in case.
Who steps through that door but Director Bean himself, looking as fierce and in control as ever. His suit is perfect, his hair pristine.
Jacob ducks behind my back. “That’s the scary gray-eyed man,” he whispers.
“No kidding,” I whisper back. I meet the aforementioned eyes and do my very best not to flinch away from them.
“What are you doing here, Ms. Lung?” Director Bean’s voice is rife with disapproval.
Jacob grabs my left elbow. “You know him?” he hisses in my ear.
I ignore Jacob, but answer the director. “I’m rescuing you, sir,” I say with as much authority as I can conjure up.
“Are you?” He laughs. “What gave you the impression I needed rescuing?”
I try to keep the fear out of my voice, but I think it trembles a little when I say, “CNN.”
“Oh good,” he says, a cocky smirk flashing across his face. “I’m so glad those old guys pulled through for me. I’ve called in too many favors the last week.”
“Is that Kitty?” a female voice from the other side of the door says.
Director Bean flashes a frown over his shoulder. “I told you to wait until I was sure it was safe.”
Marcy appears in the doorway. She’s abandoned her usual sharp business suit for a green, flowy, strapless dress that accentuates her curves and beautifully complements the patches of dragon skin on her face and arms. I’ve always thought she was pretty, but, right now, she’s absolutely gorgeous. Neither of them look like they’re being held against their will. So if she wasn’t taken, how did she escape the internment? Marcy hadn’t left DIC compound since her accident, so there’s no way she simply lucked out like Sani and I had. Marcy must have been the dragon Sani and I were sensing earlier—but my muddled brain couldn’t figure out why she’d be here, of all places. Suddenly, the familiar curl of the six in my phone number on the Post-it note makes sense. I’ve received hundreds of notes from Marcy over the years. I really should’ve recognized her handwriting.
“John, you told me she wouldn’t be involved,” she says.
John?
“I tried, dear,” he says, placing an arm around her waist.
Dear? Oh man, I knew they had something going on!
“So you did orchestrate all this,” I say, nodding, pretending like I have everything figured out. “It smelled like you. Though I never figured you for a traitor to your country.” What I do not have to pretend is the disgust that leaks its way into my words.
“I did it for you.” Director Bean shrugs.
“For the dragons,” Marcy corrects. She slips her arm through his and smiles up at him. My stomach turns. “For all of us.”
Director Bean smiles warmly down at her and touches her hand with his before returning his gaze back to me. “Like I told the president, if he releases the dragons, his son will be returned completely unharmed.”
“Not that we planned on harming Jacob either way,” Marcy adds in a hurry.
Wait, what? Releasing the dragons does not equal nuclear launch codes.
“You spoke to the president directly?” I ask, rage slowly seething into my consciousness, my dragon braying inside my head in response.
“Well, I’m not an idiot—I used a voice synthesizer and bounced the signal off about a hundred satellites. But yes, I spoke to him.”
Someone has lied to us. Probably many someones. And I don’t think Director Bean is playing me, at least not right now. So that only leaves one particular Head of State.
“And you told him you’d release Jacob if…” I trail off, wanting him to confirm it, to say it again so I can make sure I’m hearing this right.
“Well, it’s a little complicated, but, essentially the deal was this: Jacob’s freedom in exchange for all dragonkind’s freedom.” Bean’s voice is calm, cool, and matter-of-fact.
Mine, on the other hand…
“That rat-bastard sack of lying crap!” I yell. I point at Jacob. “I am going to kick your father in the nuts! Twice!”
“I think that may be considered treason,” Jacob mumbles, not quite understanding what we’re talking about. His eyes dart back and forth between the three of us, but I think he’s still too terrified of Bean to ask any questions.
Director Bean smirks. “What did he tell you? I’m assuming terrorism was involved?” His aplomb grates against my nerves like sandpaper.
“Forty-eight hours. Nuclear launch codes,” I say through clenched teeth.
He laughs like we’re all at a cocktail party, and someone just told a joke. “Is he getting his lies from summer action movies now?”
I mutter for about a minute, using no less than thirty-five words my mother would slap me for uttering. The whole time, Bean is smirking at me, his eyes laughing at my idiocy. I fell for the president’s story, hook, line, and sinker. I didn’t even doubt it for a second and the whole thing had been a lie. Give the damn man an Oscar to go with his presidency. Hell, give him all the awards. It will make it that much sweeter when I strip everything from him.
I meet Bean’s eyes and raise an eyebrow. “How do I know you’re not lying?” I ask Bean, not wanting to get duped again. I wouldn’t put it past the man to pull a double—or even triple—cross.
Jacob clears his throat. “I don’t know about the rest, but I heard the call he made to my father. Once the ‘subjects’”—he makes air quotes around the word—”were declared free and equal, I’d be delivered safely to the White House’s f
ront door.”
“That dirty rotten no-good lump of camel shit!” I want to punch something and feel it break underneath my fist. If there is anything I hate more than being lied to, it is falling for the lies.
“You still sure you want to rescue this one, then?” Director Bean asks, pointing at Jacob.
“Now, wait a minute!” Jacob says. “Whatever my dad did—”
I place a reassuring hand on his shoulder and answer the director. “Yes. Luckily, our plan ensures the president will end up with egg on his face. And your buddies at CNN spreading the news that you’re being held against your will only helps us.”
“Well,” Director Bean rises onto his toes and something unrecognizable flashes across his face. “That’s actually not a complete lie, exactly.”
My mouth hangs open. “What, exactly, do you actually mean?”
Marcy steps forward, quiet, but commanding attention. “When we arrived here, we discovered the Yakuza had a plan that differed from the original.”
“The kitsune had different plans,” Bean amends. “They just do what she tells them, the little sorceress.”
Now I recognize the strange look that had crossed Bean’s face earlier. For the first time since I’ve met him, the director is not in absolute command.
“You planned all this!” I say. “You told me to not to come here.”
“I…uh…” he begins.
Marcy’s clipped, clear voice sums everything up. “We’ve lost control of the situation. We’ve been going along with them for now, looking for an opportunity to get Jacob out.”
A sly grin curls up one side of my mouth. I can’t help it. “You needed me to rescue you.”
Director Bean stands straighter and raises his chin. “We are running out of time. She’s here. What’s your extraction plan?”
Properly intimidated, I explain the rest of the plan to Director Bean. Marcy and Jacob listen intently.
“Ballsy,” he says when I’m done. I think it’s the nicest thing he’s ever said to me and I almost smile at him. But then I remember who I’m talking to.
“Well…” I gesture toward myself in a you-know-me kind of way. “I am a Lung, after all.”
“A burned spy fighting a war in the court of public opinion.” Director Bean laughs. “There’s something poetic about that.”
“I don’t know anything about poetry. But I do know that people believe anything this guy tells them,” I say, pointing at Jacob. A bitter thought invades my thoughts. “Just like his father, apparently. What do you say, Midday Sun? Will you help us?”
He taps his chin like he’s considering it. “If I do, you’ll give me an aerial tour of D.C.?”
Figures, he was just considering what he could get out of it. But I’m more than okay with this sort of trade.
“Sure,” I say. “If it works.”
What I don’t say: if it doesn’t work, I won’t be giving an aerial tour of anything to anybody ever again, not even myself.
“Let’s do it,” Jacob says.
…
When we return to the first floor of the warehouse, Dominic is pacing circles around the Hummer. His shoulders are squeezed in tight and I can hear his jaw clenching from all the way across the cavernous space.
“I told you to stay out of sight,” I say. “What are you doing?”
“That girl,” he says, panic making his breaths come fast. “The pretty German one. She has Sani. She wants you up on the roof, or she said she’ll kill him. She has, like, twenty Yakuza with her.”
I close my eyes. The kitsune has Sani. Breathe in. Breathe out.
“Sani said for you not to do it,” Dominic adds. “He said get out, get Jacob to safety.” There’s a weight to his words that I can’t figure out with everyone’s pulse drumming in my ears.
“Of course he did. All right, you take the Hummer and get them out of here.” I motion to Director Bean, Marcy, and Jacob. “Lose whatever tail may follow you. I’ll meet you at the rendezvous in two hours.”
I head for the fourth staircase, the only one I haven’t explored yet, so it must be the one that leads to the roof. I breathe in and out again, slowly, trying to keep the dragon from bursting out of me. She thunders in my head, but stays beneath my thin layer of control.
“Uh, Kitty,” Dominic says, damaging my calm.
I whirl to face him. “What!” A bass note runs through the word, rumbling just below the surface of it.
He ducks his head. “She also said she’ll kill Sani if Jacob leaves.”
I’m going to tear this girl into tiny little pieces and then scatter those pieces across the ocean. Risking my life for Sani’s? No big deal. But risking Jacob’s? No dice. “Jacob’s the primary concern,” I say. “Get him out of here.”
“No,” Jacob says. He runs to stand beside me, head held high in defiance.
“Jacob, get in the car,” I growl.
“No,” he repeats. “Sani’s risked his life for me. I’m not going to leave if it means he gets killed. Plus, you need to be seen rescuing me if your plan is going to work, if you want to free your parents.”
I recognize the determination in his eyes, and I don’t have time to argue. “Okay,” I say. “But you don’t go up on the roof. You stay one level below.”
“Then I go with you,” Dominic says, stepping up next to Jacob. He’s still a Secret Service agent, assigned to Jacob. I’d expect nothing less.
“And I’ll go with you,” Director Bean says to me.
Now that surprises me. I raise my eyebrow at him, but before I get the chance to question him, Marcy speaks.
“Me too!” she says. Her eyes are bright with excitement and danger.
I sigh, looking at all of them. My life would be so much simpler if these people were more selfish. Arguing with them is going to get me nowhere except further into the kitsune’s bad graces for delaying my answer to her summons. I pull a gun out of my pack and hand it to Marcy. “Marcy’s with me. The rest of you will stay with Jacob.”
A chorus of three male voices rises up in protest.
“Look, I’d rather not have to shoot you guys. You’re all human, which means the kitsune can play you like puppets. You will stay below.”
A grumbling chorus of agreement answers me. They don’t like it, but even Director Bean recognizes his weakness against the manipulative creature.
We jog up the last staircase. It simply leads to another staircase, then another. Finally, I find a door that says ROOF.
I turn to the four people behind me. “Marcy, hide your weapon unless it’s needed. Stay low. Do not let her touch you.” Marcy nods and tucks the pistol somewhere near her thigh, underneath the flowing dress. A pang of guilt passes through my hearts. She looks like a kindergarten teacher, not a warrior. I know she was once a soldier, but it’s been a long time. And she’s just so freaking sweet.
“Guys,” I say. “Stay behind this door until I call you. No matter what else you hear, do not come out. She has to see your eyes to control you.” I think, anyway.
They all nod reluctantly.
“I mean it!” I whisper-shout. “Do not make me shoot you. I will do it.”
“Oh, I believe you,” Dominic says.
“Okay,” I say, taking a deep breath. “Here goes.”
I burst out onto the rooftop. Marcy follows behind me like a mouse.
This is not an ideal tactical situation. Armed Yakuza line the perimeter of the roof. The air buzzes with an intangible energy. The kitsune stands at the edge of the roof next to Sani, who is bound at the ankles, wrists, and shoulders. He’s standing on the very edge of the roof, centimeters from the edge.
“Kitty.” How can he sound so angry? I came here to rescue him. “You should have left.”
“Oh good,” the kitsune, once again dressed in a photoshopped version of Gesina’s skin, purrs. Do foxes purr? Kitsune definitely do. “I was afraid I was going to have to dispose of this fine specimen.” She runs her hand slowly across Sani’s bicep like she�
��s admiring an expensive car.
I’m going to tear all of that pretty hair from her pretty little head and feed it to her. A cool breeze washes across the rooftop, blowing hair into my eyes. It feels like ice sliding along my skin.
I dart toward her. She places a firmer hand on Sani’s shoulder and tsk’s her tongue. I swear to myself: I will break every single finger she uses to touch him. “No, no, no,” she says. “One more step and I’ll push him.”
“He can survive that fall,” I say.
“Ten stories? Maybe in dragon form—but…” She waves her arms up and down like Vanna White showing off a puzzle. “One graze of the skin and he won’t even remember what a dragon is. You remember how it feels, right?”
My dragon growls. Because she’s right. Incapacitated by her sorcery, he may survive the fall, but he may not. Sixty-forty, at best. I can’t take that chance, not with Sani. I meet his eyes for a second. My entire body aches to run toward him, to grab him and fly away to our own little private island in the South Pacific. To leave all of this behind us and just be. But that’s not a life either of us could live with.
“What do you want?” I yell.
“Kitty,” Sani yells over us. “Leave!”
“What I’ve always wanted,” she says. “You.”
What the what? My hearts hammer in response to this strange declaration. “Why me?” I say. Who the hell am I?
“I wouldn’t have taken this job if it weren’t for you. Like one point two million is enough to hire a kitsune?” She sniffs the air. “It’s an insult. But then I found out I’d get to play against Katherine Lung.”
“Uh, yeah. Really enjoying this playtime,” I say, wheels spinning in my head. Do I know her somehow? “You still didn’t answer the question. Why me?”
“Cairo. 1997. Ring a bell?” Her voice drips with fire and ice.
The Cairo job. The job where a mercenary kitsune turned on the dragons and tried to kill my father. The job where my mother destroyed the kitsune who tried.
“Ah, I see it does.” Her voice bites at my skin. “Your mother killed my mother. Now, it’s time for payback.”
This girl has a surreally warped sense of justice. Her hand clenches around Sani’s shoulder, and he winces. She’s hurting him. I have to get her to forget about him and focus on me.
Dragons Are People, Too Page 19