Authors: Finley Aaron
Up ahead, across the street, a see another one slipping in and out of the shadows.
How many are there?
“Another one to our left.” I try not to look directly at the creature.
Lil glances up, sucks in a sharp breath, and darts forward, almost at a run now. She may be slightly trembling.
I need to get her out of here. “Where are we heading?” I ask.
“We
were
going to catch the next tram stop, but we’re close enough now, we’re almost to the bookshop.” She ducks down another road at a sprint.
We’re nowhere near any of the bookshops I found on my search yesterday, but Prague is full of shops tucked into out of the way places, and streets and alleys run through unexpected places, so it’s easy to imagine I may have overlooked it.
She rounds a corner, stop shorts, and spins around, crashing into me.
I’m staring after the yagi that just stepped back out of sight. As a dragon, I have unusually strong eyesight, even when I’m in human form, yet I barely saw the yagi.
Lil must have unusually good vision, too.
“We’ll go the long way around.” Lil darts off in another direction.
I run after her, checking corners, sniffing the air.
They’re close. Far too close.
We round three more corners, and then Lil’s feet patter against steps as she descends behind an imposing centuries-old stone building.
A sign-board hanging at street level reveals the name of the shop.
The Prose Nest. The sign shows a picture of books stacked around like a nest, with a spectacled crow perched atop them like a lookout, except that instead of looking off to the distance with a spyglass, he’s reading a book.
Cute.
Lil unlocks the door, lets us both in, and then locks the door behind us.
She’s panting heavily.
It’s dark in the shop—the only light is orange lamplight pouring through the many windows from the street above. The shop is at garden level, almost a basement. There’s a sort of open area near the door, but the rest of the place is stacked high with shelves of books. Many of the aisles are only a couple of feet across.
During the daytime, I’m sure the shop is an inviting retreat. But right now, in the darkness, with those creepy creatures after us, it’s spooky. There are too many places where anything could hide.
I draw in a long breath through my nose. The yagi scent is gone.
For now.
“I think we’re safe,” I assure Lil, since she still seems to be trembling. Then I ask, “Who were those guys, and what are they after?”
Her bright blue eyes catch the meager light, flashing fear at me. “I—I don’t know.”
It’s not my place to tell her what I think they are. I don’t want to overwhelm her. But it would be helpful to know if she has any idea what she’s stirred up, and why. “I think they smell…distinctive,” I point out.
“Yeah. Like crushed bugs, or something.” She agrees.
It’s progress.
“I wonder why?” I prompt.
“Okay, this is going to sound weird, but I’ve gotten a few good looks at them, and,” Lil shakes her head, as though she can’t believe she’s really going to say it out loud. Then she confesses, “I don’t think they’re human.”
Unsure what to say that won’t scare her more, I’m silent.
She meets my eyes.
“I think,” I confess slowly, “you may be right. Any thoughts on what they are?”
Lil hits the light switches, and fluorescent light floods the shop as she heads down an aisle. “These books in this section.” She crouches low and runs her hand along a bottom shelf tucked into an out-of-the-way-corner. “They’re the reason I wanted to work here. I’ve never encountered books like these anywhere else. They date back to the time before my boss held this store, to when it was her father’s shop.”
I have to get on my knees and press my cheek nearly to the floor to see their titles.
Beastiary. Mythical Creatures and their Tales. On Diverse Arts. De Animalibus. A Brief History of Dragons
.
Though I’m tempted to grab the books and start reading immediately, one question seems more important than the rest. “Who was your boss’s father?”
“Ignac Vrana. His picture’s on the wall near the door. He’s been gone over a decade. Anyway, I think my boss always felt like her father loved this shop more than he loved her, so she resents the shop like it’s a rival for his affection or something. She doesn’t spend much time here.” As she speaks, Lil pulls a book from the shelf and flips through it, her fingers traveling what appears to be a path familiar to them.
She stops on a page with an illustration of a dragon in flight above mountains.
It’s a sketch done in ink. I’ve never seen the drawing before, but I’ve seen sights like this more times than I can count. I and my parents and siblings are all dragons. I’ve watched them returning home over the mountains, wings outstretched just like these, so often I could draw the sketch myself if my art skills were any good.
Lil looks at the drawing for a second of two, then snaps the book closed self-consciously.
I raise a questioning eyebrow, but I don’t say anything out loud. She seems nervous, and spoken words might startle her.
Lil stands and slips past me on her way to the front of the store. “I don’t know what those creatures were.”
“But the books—” I stand, as well.
She’s already to the end of the aisle, about ten feet from me. “Never mind. It’s silly.”
“The illustration in that book, a dragon in flight.” I begin the question, unsure exactly where I’m going.
Lil turns to face me. Her eyes hold fear, but more than that, confirmation. She knows exactly which illustration I’m referring to. She turned to it on purpose, out of habit, or perhaps because she felt afraid.
Which is it? And why?
I give her my most empathetic look. “Have you ever seen anything like that in real life?”
Her eyes widen, then she scowls. “No. Dragons aren’t real.” She insists plainly, and turns away from me again.
But her answer belies the message on her face.
Her face, for an instant at least, clearly said
yes
.
*
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Basilisk
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Basilisk
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