Chapter Twelve
“What the hell am I doing?”
The words came from her mouth in a low hiss as Christy took a long breath and then set off down the street she had spent half the morning and a good bit of cash trying to find. She’d had to hop boroughs and take both cabs and buses to do it. She was frustrated and angry, and she was tired as hell to boot. What’s more, she was sure she was on some kind of wild goose chase that was going to see her going home much poorer and no closer to finding out if what she had been told about a doorway that led into Dragon world was even true.
She was walking past a bunch of burned out warehouses and a dingy industrial strip that held no open businesses. Her nerves went taut, and she pulled the collar of her light jacket up higher around her neck, ducking her head and trying to give off the impression of being tough, of being mean just in case anyone was watching her.
If there was, she did not see them. The whole street had a deserted air, one that made her want to turn away and run away all at the same time.
Finally, she spotted it. The house did look a bit like a castle. It had been built over a hundred and fifty years ago by an eccentric millionaire who had never lived in it. Supposedly he had pined away for a wife that had died before the movers could show up and move them into it.
Whatever the case, it was a crumbling wreck with a sagging door that had once been painted red, but that color was faded, and the limestone façade had the saggy, crumpled look it got right before a building collapsed.
“I must be out of my goddamn mind,” Christy muttered as she stepped into the abandoned building. Cobwebs coated the corners, and the dust was so thick that the windows were obscured by it. The grime and grit were bad enough. The dimness was worse. She took her cell phone out and held it up, using her flashlight app to try to pick out her path through the place. She’d listened hard when the few people who had chosen to go to Dragon world had talked of it and how but she hadn’t counted on it being that creepy or discouraging.
The place looked like it might fall down at any time and she was really afraid it would. The floors were covered in what looked like centuries of garbage, and the walls were not just crumbling but sagging too.
She chewed her lips. Was the building the right one? She was sure it was, but she was worried she might have gotten it wrong too. What if she was wrong and she tried to get through to his world, to Blake, and only ended up running into a literal wall? Or worse, through one?
It was possible, given the condition of the place.
She shone that light around, hoping to see anything at all that would help her find a path but all she saw was dust and debris and grime. She sighed, maybe this was not such a great idea after all.
Max had come for Heather after all; maybe Blake would show up and ask her to go in that roundabout way that Max had asked Heather to decamp to that world.
Or not.
Blake was horrifically stubborn, and she had been pretty clear that she hadn’t wanted him. Regret threatened to topple her right onto the dirty floor. Why, oh why had she been so cruel?
Because I was scared.
That was the real answer. She had been scared of love and of loving him. She knew what he wanted, what he needed, and she was afraid of being a mother to any creature, even a human one. She was really scared to be a mother to a weredragon.
But motherhood, in general, terrified her.
Her own childhood had been so bleak and strained, and she had never really known any stability at all. She was afraid she would mess up whatever child she had, and with good reason. She had never had any really good examples of what a parent did or did not do, and all she had ever known was the crushing harshness of a mother who had never gotten over her husband leaving her with two kids she did not really want to raise.
Christy’s shoulders slumped. It was a lot to admit to herself. Even if she could find a way back to him, she might not be right for him. He had to have kids. His line was nearly extinct, and he was so set on keeping it alive. What happened if she could not bring herself to have kids?
She would find herself back in her own world, because how could she stay knowing she could not have him, or she would have to stay there watching him love someone else, someone who would have those children he wanted so desperately.
There was another option. She might have a child or two, prove to be as lousy a mom as her mom was and ruin everyone’s lives.
Yeah. That was the option that had made her run and be so mean when he had told her she could stay if she wanted to. She had known even then that he was offering her a chance at a life with him, she just had not known why.
There was still that one very large question hanging over her mind. Did Blake want her or did he just want her because she could bear children? Did he love her, or just love that he could finally have the children that would carry on his line with her?
Her phone battery icon came on, warning her that she was about to lose her flashlight. Well, that figured, and she had already lost her nerve so she turned away and headed back toward the front door.
She managed to get the warped and heavy thing open a crack. She peered outside and then, seeing nobody very near, she quickly stepped out into the sunshine and fresh air, taking a big deep gulp of it to clear her lungs.
Her head did not clear though. Her every emotion felt magnified and so did her tension. She wanted to go back to him. Now that she had actually walked through that door, she could not deny that anymore, and she knew that everything she had held at bay, the fact that she loved him, that she wanted him, that she needed him, was all going to cause hurt, and it would all be hers.
Because there was no way that she was willing to wreck a child’s life. She would. She would be a lousy parent, and she would mess everything up. She would mess up Blake, their kid or kids, and she would even mess up her own heart.
Better to just forget that she had ever gone to that house at all, that it even existed.
Way better.
