Peter swallowed hard. This was very, very, very... bad!
"Am I wrong? Feel free to tell me if I am."
Unable to bring himself to say anything, tears started to build in the corners of his eyes. It broke his heart that he'd brought her to this.
"I don't understand!" she spat. "You were cleared by the police, and from everything that I know, it does seem that you were both doing your best to save everybody and the clubhouse. Tell me the truth... please!"
More than anything in the world, he wanted to tell her. In fact, he'd never wanted anything more in his entire life. But he knew if he did, it would go very badly indeed. Almost certainly the best that would happen would be a memory wipe for her and a life underground for him. And that was the best scenario he could come up with. Silence seemed the better option.
"I can't..." he uttered.
Tears raced down her beautiful face, leaping off at her chin and with a little gravity added to the mix, ended up splashing delicately onto the hallway floor. Head bowed, he watched the tiny teardrops fall in exquisite detail, anxiously searching for any way to get their relationship back onto an even keel.
"I thought you were different from other men," Janice sniffed, totally oblivious to the irony of her words.
"I am," he whispered.
"And yet you continue to lie to me. After everything. Forget what I did on that day! That I lied and colluded with you and your rugby playing friend. Lied to all the staff and everyone inside the clubhouse. Lied to the fire service and the police when they turned up. Forget all that... all of which I did for you. I trusted you!" she yelled. "I fell in love with you. You were all I ever wanted. But all it got me was LIES! LIES, LIES, AND MORE LIES!"
Shaking violently, her tears threatened to flood the building, a mixture of anger and sadness indelibly etched on her face.
"GO," she ordered, pointing at the front door. "GET OUT!"
Feeling numb, almost as if it weren't his body he was in and that he was just watching it all unfold, happening to someone else, he had but one thought.
'It can't end like this. Can it?'
Head spinning like a tumble dryer, he did the only thing he could. He told her the truth.
"I love you," he whispered.
"Then tell me exactly what happened," she spluttered.
"I can't... I'm sorry."
"GET OUT!" she demanded. "I never want to see you again."
Knowing then that it was done, despite his overwhelming desire to, he just couldn't tell her. And all he was doing at the moment was causing her misery and pain. It was the hardest thing he'd ever done in his life, harder than fighting Manson, harder than coming here tonight. Dodging past her, he turned the lock and walked out, the door slamming firmly shut behind him. Not needing his enhanced dragon senses to hear her wailing and crying on the other side of the door, on automatic pilot his legs walked down the path and back onto the street, where they headed in the direction of his house, the rest of him failing to notice the mysterious stranger walking behind him in the shadows, in much the same direction. Later, he would have no recollection of the journey home, even though he'd most certainly done it. Sleep eluded him, his thoughts centred on what he'd put the young woman through, wondering whether he'd ever see her again.
'Perhaps,' he mused, 'this is why dragon/human relationships were banned in the first place.'
Alone in the dark, Janice spent the entire night crying herself to sleep.
14
Suits You Sir!
Strolling down the poorly lit path, dipping in and out of the shadows, so many things played on his mind. Normally life was good, but he'd been plagued by dark dreams and dreadful nightmares ever since that fateful day, and they were so bad now that even his wife had commented on it. So here he was, on his way to do something about it, however small that might be in the scale of things.
By now the lighting had dropped away to virtually nothing, but that didn't bother him, as he'd walked this way hundreds, no... thousands of times, and felt securely shrouded in the dark. The thick juicy sound of mud squelching beneath his dark brown leather boots jolted him back to the present. Almost there, he was looking forward to their reaction to the unusual request he was about to present. Extending his dragon senses, he found solace in knowing he was totally alone down here. Pausing between two run down stone houses, he slipped into an impossibly small gap between them, glad for once that in his human form he was incredibly thin and gangly. Even a few more extra pounds would probably have prevented him from taking this route, one that only he, and he alone, knew. Squeezing sideways quietly between the homes, wary of scraping either wall, even a little, eventually he reached the end, facing a solid wall of rock, some forty feet or so tall. Reaching out with his mind, he found the tiny switches embedded in the wall, that had so long ago been installed there. Giving each one a nudge with his mind, he automatically moved his feet and hands, knowing that hand and footholds would now appear as if from nowhere. Scampering up and over the wall, he leapt down into a small, dark, secluded cobbled courtyard with a solitary metal door set into the moss covered rock that tailed off into the distance. It was cold here and his breath froze as he exhaled on landing. This was not a particularly pleasant place for a dragon, given the damp and chilly conditions. On the plus side, he had managed to acquire the property at an absolutely knock down price. And despite its drawbacks, it was perfect for the use that it had been put to. Blowing on his hands to warm them up, he proceeded to run them over the protruding rivets that framed the outside door, his bony fingers depressing some while ignoring others. Six seconds later the door slid sideways, revealing a darkened interior. Glad to have returned, he weaved past a couple of grubby sinks hanging off the wall, making his way towards the faint sound of voices. Thirty seconds later, having crisscrossed the maze of twisted corridors, he walked into what can only be described as an abandoned hangar, littered with desks, strewn with the latest high tech computer equipment from the human world above. By now the voices had stopped, each one replaced with a smile.
"YOYO!" came the shouts of joy from a dozen or so scruffy looking human shaped youngsters. A young girl launched herself into his arms as if shot from a cannon, while the others surrounded him in a much more calm and concise manner. The show of affection lightened his dark and thoughtful mood. Giving some of them hugs, while tousling the hair of others, eventually he managed to get them all seated. Gathered round, most in their chairs, some sitting on table edges, the youngsters eagerly waited to hear what their mentor and saviour had to say.
For days, his thoughts had been centred on exactly this. Thinking about that fateful day when he'd rescued Flash from the pool of lava as he'd been passing, and then carted him off to London for an impromptu audience with the king himself. Part of him still couldn't believe that Flash hadn't died, and for that he was hugely grateful. But everything that had come out... the details about Flash's mission and the deadly threat the nagas presented... had bothered him ever since. It hadn't helped that he'd sworn an oath of secrecy to the king himself. Figuring others in his position would have at least told their partner, or in his case, wife, what had gone on, however he was a dragon of his word and once he'd uttered that oath, he wouldn't tell another soul about it all. Residing on the other side of the planet hadn't helped either. Had he been nearer, he could have talked to Flash, Peter, Tank or even the master mantra maker himself, about his worries. But as it was, communicating securely across that distance was difficult at best and in his humble opinion, not worth the risk just to settle any worries he had. So he'd come up with this... using the resources already available to him in a bid to soothe his mind, ease his worries and ultimately get one step ahead of the game. This rag tag bunch of dragons here, in this disused warehouse below a computer repair shop in one of the outlying suburbs of Perth, Australia, all owed their existence to him, in one way or another. Some had just left the nursery ring of their own accord (something supposedly forbidden, but was more common than those in charge thought) drifting along with absolutely no direction, doomed to a life of being an outcast and living in abject poverty. Others, well, let's just say they'd fallen in with the wrong crowd, but had been saved in the nick of time by Yoyo himself. Numerous times he'd called on their skills, but this time might actually be the most important of all. While their official training might well be regarded as incomplete, their actual training was nothing short of comprehensive, but with an added something many dragons miss out on: imagination! It seems hard to believe really, but it's true. All the practical and theoretical matters are dealt with fantastically well in each and every nursery ring, but the young dragonlings are never really encouraged to use their powers of invention, tapping into imaginations that are some of the most innovative on the planet. For Yoyo, that always seemed a tragedy. But these youngsters knew nothing of that limitation and had always been pushed to explore, expand and apply their imagination to everything about them, in particular their work.