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AS THE SUN IS GOING down, we approach the building. It’s white with heavily faded blue double doors. There is a padlocked chain woven between its metal handles. Orphelius lets go of my hand to yank at the chain and it’s wound so tight, it hardly makes a clamor.
“If I had a sword,” he says, “I’d be able to create enough leverage against the blade to break the lock.”
“No one uses swords nowadays. Why don’t you go look for something to use,” I suggest, “I’ll go see if there’s another way in.”
We both agree and I walk around the building towards the back where it’s plastered with graffiti; there is a funky smell, like rotten fish, and I worry for the animal inside.
After rounding a second corner, another set of double doors reveals itself, just as tightly chained and locked as the first. My right arm tingles as a soft, slippery pull moves swiftly under my skin; my dragon is unwinding itself from my upper arm. I feel a thick head slither from my right shoulder up towards the nape of my neck and then along my left shoulder blade, pulling its orphic body behind it until the head reaches the tip of my left shoulder bone. I look to my left because I know what the dragon wants me to see—Bradley’s boat.
I know there are tools aboard that might help Orphelius break the lock and chains, but fuck that! Bradley could be there. “I’m not getting back on that boat,” I tell my tat and it fucking bites me.
“What boat?” asks Orphelius, running up from behind.
“Bradley’s boat,” I point. “He has a knife—a big one, almost like a sword that I’m sure he uses to slice fish and you might be able to use it to cut away the lock.”
“Let’s go get it then.”
My feet feel glued to the cement walkway. “I can’t.”
Orphelius laces his hands behind my neck and pulls me in to kiss my forehead. “It’s okay. Wait here.”
Watching Orphelius walk away makes me feel stupid. I was all talk about wanting to go wherever he does and at the first sign of danger, I’m stuck in my shoes. Tentacles, legs, and all limbs aside, the guy is more than a beast and a man. It wouldn’t matter what shape he’s in—I would still love him. He’s a hero.
I peek about watching for any sign that might get Orphelius in trouble. There are not many people out today and it’s obvious Orphelius has experience with boats as he grips onto a section of a pole and leaps over on deck. He rummages through compartments I had no idea were there and grabs a hold of some towels, a blanket, and the big knife I mentioned.
Chills run down my spine as the dragon at my left shoulder swiftly slithers back to my right side, but this time instead of biting me, a quick burn endures, as if the dragon just torched me to get my attention. I look to my right and coming across the parking lot is Bradley.
I blink to make sure I’m seeing him clearly. He has a black patch over his left eye. Fitting. A plundering pirate exactly describes that jerk-off.
I look back to Orphelius. He’s already headed back my way and luckily, Bradley has not noticed him. I wave to encourage Orphelius to move quicker and he picks up his pace.
Orphelius hands me the towels and blanket and examines the large blade in his hand. He picks up the lock to examine it. Orphelius angles himself with legs bent and raises both arms high above his head and I can’t help but notice a sliver of solid muscle poised over his abs beneath the T-shirt.
With one swift swoop, Orphelius cuts the lock. Quickly, we unravel the chain and barge into the building allowing the stench of foul gasses to burst free, stinging our noses and sickening our spirits, despite the heroic entrance.
It’s dark. The sun is coming through the doors, but there’s no light inside and it's warm, like a moist sauna. Surely the pup must be dead even though the heat is mild. I hear Orphelius drop the blade and then walk about as I search for a light switch.
When I turn it on, Orphelius already has his hands in a shallow above-ground pool. His fingers graze the animal we are there to save and despite the permanent smile on the pup’s face, I can tell the poor thing is weak and in pain.
“Bring the towels and blanket,” request Orphelius as he removes his shirt and drops his pants.
I feel terrible. Orphelius is as distraught as the animal—each eager to be comforted by the other, yet I can’t help and ogle the man. Ripped. Robust. Desperate. Naked. But this is why I came—to see him like this and it makes my heart float. I can only imagine this was how he must’ve looked when he was desperate to save me in a former life.
Orphelius leaps over the shallow wall of the pool and grits his teeth before his head sinks. I can hear him bawling in agony. The muted outcry of what’s happening below the seawater enveloping him is a testament to its effect on him. I peep over the edge of the pool and Orphelius’ massive, limbless body covers the full diameter of the circular floor. His head pops up as his tentacles reach to take the towel and blankets from me to drench them in the stale seawater while his arms cradle the pup.
“I don’t think the marina is the best place to release him,” Orphelius states. “There are too many hazards and he can hardly swim.”
“I could get the car and we can wrap him in the wet towels and release him onshore at the beach house.”
“I’m more comfortable with that plan.”
“I’ll be back.”
I turn to rush out, but I am yanked at the wrist. I look down to see a tentacle wrapped and reeling me back to the pool’s edge. It’s odd. I accept that it’s odd and I’m even more accepting of the tongue that swipes across my lips and plunges into my open mouth. Orphelius kisses me until our lips are swollen and a click comes from the baby pup. “Okay baby,” I chuckle. “He’s ready to go,” I tell Orphelius.
“I am too. This water is rancid.”
I nod and rush through the open doors into the sunlight and for the first time, I feel free. Despite the danger of what we are doing and the acknowledgment of fear that should exist with such risk, my legs can’t help but skip. My painted dragon is alive; I feel it twirling and rolling. It’s is dancing beneath my skin all over my back until it stops to torch me.
But the fire I feel beneath my skin does not burn with anger. It is a warning that comes too late as I am gripped at the wrist once more and find myself falling after being struck and landing on my knees.
