Page 55
Milo nodded, flipping to the next page.
“The Ridged Sucker??” He scream-read the title next to an image of a bright purple dragon, small in stature but with a wingspan about three times its size. “Are you fucking kidding me??”
“They’re all assholes.” Rowan glared at the book.
“If your name was the Ridged Sucker, you’d be an asshole too, man.” Milo shook his head. “Glad I ain’t that.”
He flipped several more pages before finally stopping at a dragon that looked eerily like Milo thought he’d look in full shift. Thin, long, sharp-looking body in shades of silver, white, and blue. Almost translucent wings, the bones protruding, almost skeletal. It looked high-strung and scowly, and Milo gasped as he ran a finger over the page. It was him.
“The Glacial Swoop,” he read, rolling the name over his tongue. “Not ideal. Better than Sucker, so I can live with that.”
“That’s not you,” Rowan said, peering over.
Milo snapped his head up. “What do you mean it’s not me? It looks just like me!”
“It looks similar, but the differences are there,” Rowan said. “The Swoop has sharp, pointed scales, almost like tiny thorns, the claws are darker than yours, and the eyes are rounder and wider open than yours.”
Milo leaned over the book, nose almost glued to it as he inspected the details Rowan pointed out and compared them to what he had seen on himself.
He was mostly back to looking human by that point, but the claws and some scales remained.
“Oh. I thought…”
“There are so many breeds of dragon, some of them are bound to be similar,” Rowan said. “We’ll find you.”
But they didn’t.
Milo stayed until dawn broke and the pale yellow streams of light crawled along the hardwood floors. Rowan’s plants rustled when the light touched them, breaking him out of his trance.
He found Rowan sound asleep on the floor next to him, piles of books discarded all around them. He looked calm and relaxed in sleep. Softer and more mellow. Sweet and cuddly. Milo imagined what it would be like to just cuddle next to his huge body and join him in slumber. He wondered if Rowan would pull him closer. If he was a snorer or a restless sleeper. He wanted to know so many things, but he didn’t think it was his place to ask. He and Rowan were…accidental accomplices. They were working together on a mission and would go their separate ways after it was done.
Milo stood up and stepped over one of the books, glaring at it as if it had personally offended him. They’d picked through every last one Rowan had, and whatever Milo was was nowhere to be found.
He yawned and stretched until every joint cracked then turned around to locate his phone. He found it at five percent battery and with several missed calls from his coffee shop boss, followed by a text begging him to come take the morning shift because Alisa had called in sick.
“Shit,” he cursed, glancing at the time and realizing he was an hour late, but figured it was an emergency and they’d just be happy to have help whenever he showed up.
He rushed around in as much silence as he could manage, gathering his stuff and digging through his bag to check if he had everything.
He found a crumpled napkin flower he’d folded during a lull at the bar, and before he could talk himself out of it, stuffed it between the leaves of a particularly thick plant next to Rowan’s window.
It settled that restless demon in his chest, and he glanced at Rowan one last time before storming out, rushing to get to work while it was still at least somewhat early.
He hadn’t slept and he was running on fumes. He dug some change out and bought an energy drink at a little kiosk on the way, dreaming of espresso and wondering what the logistics of injecting it right into his veins would be.
He’d have to look into that.
Soon.
Notes:
Do not recommend for legal reasons.
17
Rowan
He looked around himself, staring at the people sitting at the tables next to him and wondering if they could tell.
