«Yeah.» Vince nodded as vigorously as he could, considering his hair was still in Louie’s iron grip.
«Torch it.»
«Burn it down?» Vince squeaked.
«Not so loud, chidrool!»
«Burn it down?» Vince whispered.
«Yeah.»
«But that’s arson.»
Louie laughed. «It’s a growth industry nowadays. Good opportunity for a kid who ain’t afraid t’ play with fire.»
Vince sneezed.
It wasn’t so much of a trick to burn down the rickety old warehouse, Vince knew. The place was ripe for the torch. But to burn it down without getting caught, that was different.
The Fire Department and Police and, worst of all, the insurance companies all had special arson squads who would be sniffing over the charred remains of the warehouse even before the smoke had cleared.
Vince didn’t know anything at all about arson. But, desperate for his big chance, he was willing to learn.
He tried to get in touch with Johnnie the Torch, the leading local expert. But Johnnie was too busy to see him, and besides Johnnie worked for a rival Family, ‘way up in Manayunk. Two other guys that Vince knew, who had something of a reputation in the field, had mysteriously disappeared within the past two nights.
Vince didn’t think the library would have any books on the subject that would help him. Besides, he didn’t read too good.
So, feeling very shaky about the whole business, very late the next night he drove a stolen station wagon filled with jerry cans of gasoline and big drums of industrial paint thinner out to Front Street.
He pushed his way through the loosely-nailed boards that covered the old warehouse’s main entrance, feeling little and scared in the darkness. The warehouse was empty and dusty, but as far as the insurance company knew, Louie’s fruit and vegetable firm had stocked the place up to the ceiling just a week ago.
Vince felt his hands shaking. If I don’t do a good job, Louie’ll send Big Balls Falcone after me.
Then he heard a snuffling sound.
He froze, trying to make himself invisible in the shadows.
Somebody was breathing. And it wasn’t Vince.
Kee-rist, they didn’t tell me there was a night watchman here!
«I am not a night watchman.»
Vince nearly jumped out of his jockey shorts.
«And I’m not a policeman, either, so relax.»
«Who—» His voice cracked. He swallowed and said again, deeper, «Who are you?»
«I am trying to get some sleep, but this place is getting to be a regular Stonehenge. People coming and going all the time!»
A bum, Vince thought. A bum who’s using this warehouse to flop.
«And I am not a bum!» the voice said, sternly.
«I didn’t say you was!» Vince answered. Then he shuddered, because he realized he had only thought it.
A glow appeared, across the vast darkness of the empty warehouse. Vince stared at it, then realized it was an eye. A single glowing, baleful eye with a slit of a pupil, just like a cat’s. But this eye was the size of a bowling ball!
«Wh … wha …»
Another eye opened beside it. In the light from their twin smolderings, Vince could just make out a scaly head with a huge jaw full of fangs.
He did what any man would do. He fainted.
When he opened his eyes he wanted to faint again. In the eerie moonlight that was now filtering through the old warehouse’s broken windowpanes, he saw a dragon standing over him.
It had a long, sinuous body covered with glittering green and bluish scales, four big paws with talons on them the size of lumberjacks’ saws. Its tail coiled around and around, the end twitching slightly all the way over on the other side of the warehouse.
And right over him, grinning down toothily at him, was this huge fanged head with the giant glowing cat’s eyes.
«You’re cute,» the dragon said.
«Huh?»
«Not at all like those other bozos Louie sent over here the past couple of nights. They were older. Fat, blubbery men.»
«Other guys … ?»
The dragon flicked a forked tongue out between its glistening white fangs. «Do you think you’re the first arsonist Louie’s sent here? I mean, they’ve been clumping around here for the past several nights.»
Still flat on his back, Vince asked, «Wh … wh … what happened to them?»
The dragon hunkered down on its belly and seemed, incredibly, to smile at him. «Oh, don’t worry about them. They won’t bother us.» The tongue flicked out again and brushed Vince’s face. «Yes, you are cute!»
Little by little, Vince’s scant supply of courage returned to him. He kept speaking with the dragon, still not believing this was really happening, and slowly got up to a sitting position.
«I can read your mind,» the dragon was saying. «So you might as well forget about trying to run away.»
«I … uh, I’m supposed to torch this place,» Vince confessed.
«I know,» said the dragon. Somehow, it sounded like a female dragon.
«Yes, you’re right,» she admitted. «I am a female dragon. As a matter of fact, all the dragons that you humans have ever had trouble with have been females.»
«You mean like St. George?» Vince blurted.
«That pansy! Him and his silly armor. Aunt Ssrishha could have broiled him alive inside that pressure cooker he was wearing. As it was, she got to laughing so hard at him that her flame went out.»
«And he killed her.»
«He did not!» She sounded really incensed, and a little wisp of smoke trickled out of her left nostril. «Aunt Ssrishha just made herself invisible and flew away. She was laughing so hard she got the hiccups.»
«But the legend …»
«A human legend. More like a human public relations story. Kill a dragon. The human who can kill a dragon hasn’t been born yet!»
«Hey, don’t get sore. I didn’t do nuthin.»
«No. Of course not.» Her voice softened. «You’re cute, Vince.» His mind was racing. Either he was crazy or he was talking with a real, fire-breathing dragon.
«Uh, what’s your name?»
«Ssrzzha,» she said. «I’m from the Polish branch of the dragon family.»
«Shh … Zz,» Vince tried to pronounce.
«You may call me ‘Sizzle,’» the dragon said, grandly.
«Sizzle. Hey, that’s a cute name.»
«I knew you’d like it.»
If I’m crazy, they’ll come and wake me up sooner or later, Vince thought, and decided to at least keep the conversation going.
«You say all the dragons my people have ever fought were broads … I mean, females?»
«That’s right, Vince. So you can see how silly it is, all those human lies about our eating young virgins.»
«Uh, yeah. I guess so.»
«And the bigger lies they tell about slaying dragons. Utter falsehoods.»
«Really?»
«Have you ever seen a stuffed dragon in a museum? Or dragon bones? Or a dragon’s head mounted on a wall?»
«Well … I don’t go to museums much.»
«Whereas I could show you some very fascinating exhibits in certain caves, if you want to see bones and heads and—»
«Ah, no, thanks. I don’t think I really wanna see that,» Vince said hurriedly.
«No, you probably wouldn’t.»
«Where’s all the male dragons? They must be really big.»
Sizzle huffed haughtily and a double set of smoke rings wafted past Vince’s ear.
«The males of our species are tiny! Hardly bigger than you are. They all live out on some islands in the Indian Ocean. We have to fly there every hundred years or so for mating, or else our race would die out.»
«Every hundred years! You only get laid once a century?»
«Sex is not much fun for us, I’m afraid. Not as much as it is for you, but then you’re descended from monkeys, of course. Disgusting little things. Always chattering and making messes.»