Chapter 35

We arrive at Ashford along SR 705 outside of Mount Rainier National Park no later than five o’clock in the evening, but it’s already dark out—at least, for those without prosthetics. Rain patters against the roof of the car and the gravel parking lot of The Rainier Hostel. The sky is a continuous dusky blanket of clouds, promising more rain tonight and snow on the mountain. Not for the first time, I wonder how far we will make it in the beater on roads covered in snow and ice.

“Looks cozy,” Dalia says.

The hostel is a long, low building, periwinkle with yellow trim. Well-kept up, but not the Ritz.

“It’s great for the boonies,” Devin says and kills the engine. “We used to come here with my dorky cousins during the summer. I hope Jason reserved one of the big rooms. There’s a few that have five or six beds.”

“Only five or six?” Dalia says. “Oh, snap. One or two short. That means you’ll be sleeping on the floor.”

Mauve asks Jason and Devin for the car keys. Jason gives up his key without comment.

“What? Are you afraid I’m going to drive off?” Devin protests.

“The thought did cross my mind,” Mauve replies.

Devin throws his arms up in the air. He looks at us. “Doesn’t anyone else think this is total bullshit?”

“Devin, stop making a scene,” Dalia says. “It’s cold. Let’s get inside.”

“Screw this,” Devin says and drops the keys into a mud puddle in the gravel parking lot. He stomps toward the hostel. The performance lowers my already poor opinion of his intellect. Mauve is a freaking dragon.

Mauve is about to fish the keys out of the water, but Jason beats her to it, muttering, “I got it.”

We gather under the eave outside the office while Mauve and Jason handle the check-in. An enticing aroma wafts from the café. My stomach cramps with hunger pangs, and my meat craving hits overdrive. After registration, we head to the room to drop off our belongings.

“What room do we have?” Haji asks.

“Twenty,” Jason says. “Five beds.”

“For seven people,” Dalia says with a glance at Devin. “You still get the floor.”

“Jason and I can share a bed,” Leslie says.

I stiffen. The thought of Jason and Leslie sleeping together is just…ugh. I hope they don’t plan any PDA.

“Still one short,” Dalia says.

We pull up at a purple door with a square window built into the top half. Jason produces a key and unlocks the door and leads us inside.

“I do not require a bed,” Mauve announces.

“I’ll take the twin by the window if that’s okay with your majesty,” Devin says with a snarky bow to Dalia. He flops onto the nearest bed, bedsprings squeaking under his weight.

The room is spacious. Dalia cranks on the heat, and baseboard heaters rattle to life. Leslie and Jason make a beeline for the queen bed. The rest are twins. I choose the one by the bathroom. A line forms at the bathroom since, except for Mauve, we’re all desperate to relieve ourselves.

The café is an attractive space, all polished hardwood with a bar and plenty of seating. With the permission of the hostess, we move two tables together. My camera dangles from my shoulder dangerously close to the table’s sharp edge. I twist my torso so the camera harmlessly careens off my side.

The menu only lists breakfast fare, but several of the omelets are chock-full of meat. We give our orders to a solicitous waitress who draws the eyes of all the boys, even Jason. His roving eyes earn him a hard punch in the shoulder from Leslie. His indignation and wincing don’t win him any sympathy.

We fall into boisterous conversation. We talk about anything that doesn’t involve dragons and skaags and wizards. Mauve merely observes.

“You know what?” Haji says. “I think the Sounders might be in the MLS Cup Final.”

“Yeah,” Jason says. “And we’re missing out on that because of—”

Leslie punches him in the shoulder. “Maybe keep quiet about that.”

We talk about the Seattle sports scene. I’m happy to talk about soccer. It brings to mind fond memories of time I spent with my father watching games at the stadium or on TV.

Soon, I notice Dalia has lost interest in the conversation and is staring listlessly out the window into the rainy gloom. I snap a picture of her with my camera. That brings her out of her stupor.

“I’d love some coffee from The Obsidian Roast right now,” Dalia says.

“I know. Coffee, music, and dancing,” I say.

I snap more photos as we discuss the things we miss. I concentrate on photographing my squad, but I even snap a few of Devin and Leslie and Jason. It’s impossible to take a picture of Leslie or Jason without having both of them in the image. Everyone is cheerful, maybe even happy, except for Mauve—she looks pensive and keeps to herself.

I suppose our mood is a live-in-the-moment thing. In a few hours or days, we might be a partially digested slurry inside my mother’s stomach. My picture taking draws the attention of Leslie.

“What ISO are you shooting at?” she asks.

“3200.”

“How is the noise?”

“Not bad, really. Honestly, I’d rather deal with noise than use a flash.”

Leslie tells me about a flash seminar she took with her father, who is an avid shutterbug. Leslie, coming from a well-heeled family, has several flashes to go with her high-end DSLR. I’m not quite green with jealousy, but I’m covetous of her equipment.

It takes the waitress three trips to bring all the food and drinks. I dig into my sausage and egg burrito and slurp hot chocolate, ignoring the conversation around the table in favor of my food. It tastes great after the long drive and takes the edge off my hunger. Since waking up after the fight at the beach, I’m always hungry no matter how much I devour.

An older couple walks into the café, a white-haired man speaking loudly to his companion about the disintegrating man and a dragon and a giant snake.

“Giant snake?” the woman, who looks a good ten years younger than the white-haired man, says. “More like an eel with alligator legs if you ask me.”

Grimacing, I look away, trying to ignore them. Leslie and Dalia look at me questioningly.

“It’s nothing,” I say, shaking my head.

The old couple sit at the table next to ours and continue talking. With every mention of a dragon or eel or giant snake, I’m on the windblown beach being offered up to Mark Cassidy, then drowning in the infinite vastness of the Pacific Ocean. My insides tighten into an aching knot. Despite my appetite not being sated, I set down the remains of my burrito on the plate and wait for the others to finish.

****

Dalia and I sit on my bed. After we look at the photos I took at the café, I tell her about the horrifying fight on the beach. She listens, and Haji joins us, catching the tail end of the story about when Dr. Radcliffe snatches me with his talons out of the watery tomb. The others, thankfully, don’t intrude. I don’t think I could relive the battle with anyone except my squad and maybe Dad.

Haji, of course, wants to hear the whole tale, and I end up retelling it to him. It’s therapeutic. Afterward, he and Dalia are contemplative and even anxious, but I feel unburdened.

Dalia yawns. She has dark circles under her eyes. “I’m going to bed. You should think about sleeping too.”

I take her hand and squeeze it. “Get some rest. We can have coffee at the café tomorrow morning.”

Dalia smiles, but it’s only halfhearted. I suspect she lies down on her bed to brood over her anxieties. Haji and I stay up talking soccer. Before long, we’re both yawning. When it is clear he has no plans to go to bed, I tell him I want to sleep, and it’s time for him to go.

“I’m sorry about what I said,” he says. “About your mother and the dragons and all. I didn’t mean to make you angry or be insensitive. Sorry.”

“I know, Haji. Good night.”

“We can talk about something else. Something not sports-related. Seriously.”

I yawn. “I need some sleep, Haji. Good night.”

****

Someone shaking my shoulder startles me awake. My eyes pop open, and I’m immediately squinting and throwing a hand in front of my orbs. Mauve stands over me, her luminous draconic form filling the room, its head and neck passing through the ceiling and out of sight. The dragon is the only source of light in the room. I hear the heavy breathing of people in deep sleep. Snores resound from near the entrance. Figures that Devin is a snorer.

“It’s not morning already, is it?” I’m slurring my words in my zonked state.

Mauve raises a finger to her lips and makes a shushing sound. She lowers her hand and whispers, “Come with me.”

Mauve glides across the room to the entrance. She stands there with a hand resting on the doorknob and stares at me expectantly. The bed squeaks as I swing my legs off, and my feet touch down on the cold wood floor. I clench my teeth, raising my feet off the wood. I snatch my clothing from the foot of the bed and pull on heavy wool hiking socks and a pair of all-weather fleece-lined pants. I pad across the room to Mauve. By the door, I retrieve my coat and hiking boots. I have difficulty lacing up my boots, my fingers as slow as fat banana slugs. At first, I confuse the patter of rain against the roof for something caused by my pounding headache.

Once I’m dressed, Mauve opens the door onto the patio under the eave. I step outside and grit my teeth. It’s a torrential downpour with huge droplets pinging almost like hail off the parked automobiles. Mauve shuts the door and joins me in staring into the night.

“I’m not going out in that,” I say.

“You must,” Mauve says and steps out into the rain.

“Why?”

Mauve turns to face me, impassive. I can see the entirety of her draconic form now, a lithe beast that is all neck and tail. The tail curls like a snake through the parking lot, passing through automobiles like a magician walking through a wall. The rain passes through the shimmering dragon to soak the golem, who appears as unaffected by the drenching rain as it is by the cold night air.

“You need to practice,” Mauve says. Her round glasses are doused with water droplets. “You can’t practice here. We will go into the woods. So no one sees us.”

“You want me to practice changing into a skaag?”

“Yes, and I want you to practice discharging electricity. That’s how you can disrupt the gateway if it comes to you preventing the invasion,” Mauve says.

I bite my lower lip. Prevent the invasion. Sacrifice myself to keep the expeditionary force from reaching the planet. My mouth goes dry. I don’t want to be the one to collapse the gateway. I might be a pariah, a half-human mutt, but I want to live.

“None of this would be happening if your kind never came here.” I hold my chin high. I try to look at both her golem and draconic faces at the same time. It’s an aggravatingly impossible task.

Mauve shrugs. “Perhaps. Earth is an attractive planet. The Empress might have found it eventually regardless of Frederick and the rest of us fleeing here. The point is, we are here, and the skaags are coming, and we need your help.”

I set my feet. I don’t want to transform into a skaag again. It’s painful, and last time I nearly drowned. I was only able to save Dr. Radcliffe because I caught Mark Cassidy off guard. I wouldn’t stand a chance against him, let alone my mother, in a fair fight. They are three or four times my size and are experienced killing machines. I’m a malformed infant by comparison.

“I don’t want to kill,” I say. “I don’t want to become my mother.”

“I know,” Mauve says. “I don’t want you to kill either. I only want you capable of defending yourself and your friends.”

“And you and Tanis and Dr. Radcliffe,” I say, my hands curling into fists.

“Of course,” Mauve says. “I hope…I want to be your friend, Allison. I…I came to Earth while I was very young. I’ve never lived as a dragon among my own kind. My entire life, I’ve ridden the slipstream, hiding among you humans, only daring to enter this world as a full-fledged dragon a few times a year in remote wildernesses. It’s exhausting. I have a life. A human life. I’m a network engineer. I have co-workers, some who I even consider friends, but none of them know me. Not really, and they can’t. It’s stifling. The others don’t understand. Even Ion didn’t. She was always consumed by the desire for revenge.”

My fists slowly unclench. Mauve is just like me, caught, not by choice, between two worlds. Like me, she yearns for understanding.

“I don’t want to die,” I blurt.

“I don’t want you to die either,” Mauve says with a melancholy smile. “I don’t want any of this. I’m so sorry you’ve been dragged into this, Allison. Frederick wasn’t lying about the skaags being bad for humans. If unleashed, they will wipe out humanity or enslave humans for food stock.”

“How do you know?” Even as I say this, the sleeper stirs inside me, hungering for bloody meat. It doesn’t care if the meat is human. In fact, I salivate. It’s curious how human flesh might taste. I groan and spit. “Ugh.”

“Are you okay?”

I nod, clenching my stomach with my hands. “Go on.”

“I’ve seen footage of what they did to dragons.”

Mauve’s golem remains impassive, but I swear tears leak from the dragon’s coppery eyes. The tears along with the sleeper’s curiosity to try human flesh convince me.

“I’ll come. The skaags must be stopped no matter the sacrifice.”

Taking a deep breath, I step off the porch into the rain.