Before I get started, I want to acknowledge the kindness of our local Ren Faire being in May when the weather’s starting to ramp up but isn’t high 80s-90s consistently yet. The Nazgul cosplayers and the man with satyr legs that triple the diameter of his legs probably particularly appreciate that.
Benjamin settled into his seat at the Cat’s Corner Cafe with a sigh of contentment. He had his typical order, a tall latte with a splash of sea salt caramel and a croissant with a side of strawberry jam. The cafe got their jam from a local farmer and it was excellent. He was the first one here again, but Helena and Jacquis should arrive soon.
As Benjamin took his first sip, he looked around the cafe. The red brick walls enclosed the space in a homey, sunny atmosphere with wooden shelves of knick-knacks on the walls and painted cats on the walls in various poses- stretching, lounging, batting at yarn, and so on. At this time in the morning, only a few people were here though the rush would be starting soon. A sleepy-looking gentleman in the corner was sipping a steaming cup and typing busily on his phone. An older woman had just come through the door and was staring at the pastry case with her arms crossed. The owner behind the counter was chatting idly with his assistant at the register as they waited for the latest customer to make her order. A haggard-looking woman in a suit was sitting at a table near the window with the thousand-yard stare in her eyes, slowly chewing on a piece of cinnamon-swirl toast. His second favorite of the baked good options. Benjamin turned his attention back to his own plate to dig into his first favorite but as he reached for his knife, he found a surprise.
The napkin where he’d laid his fork and knife was absent of silverware. Instead, a knobbled wooden stick with copper wire twining around it sat in place of honor. Benjamin stared at it for a moment before scanning the room again. Same five occupants. No one had come near his table. How odd. He picked it up to inspect it more closely.
There was a sizzling sensation like the moment you’ve touched something too hot but before the pain registers in your brain. Benjamin dropped the stick instinctively but the moment of pain didn’t come. He checked the room again. No one seemed to have noticed. But it was silly to expect people to notice. What was he worried about them seeing anyway? He reached for the stick again. No, it wasn’t just a stick. Still, the word wand seemed to not sit right in his brain. He felt like his mind was simultaneously rejecting the word and yet plastering it all over his consciousness. He reached out again and grabbed it more securely.
The sizzling came again, spreading up his fingertips and through his shoulder then dispersing through his body with a fizzling sensation. It disappeared as it reached his toes but his scalp was still tingling. He turned the wand over in his fingers. It looked like someone’s ordinary, if well-built, craft project. It clearly wasn’t though. But what did it do?
The bell on the door chimed as someone barged through with more force than necessary. Benjamin looked up at the interruption and couldn’t hold back a sharp intake of breath. A scaly red lizard- no, we were being honest with things today. He was holding a wand. And a dragon had just come through the door. Other details slowly made themselves known past the giant frozen word DRAGON immobilizing his brain. The dragon was wearing clothes. The dragon was snorting smoke. The dragon was holding a newspaper. The dragon was coming straight at him. He felt glued to his seat, muscles tensed and ready to spring, all predator-prey instincts coming down to him. The dragon slammed the newspaper on the table and snarled.
“Did you see what’s in the paper today? Can you believe they’re trying this? And it’s not even on the front page! Someone tried hiding it all the way back on page six. Look at this!”
The voice sounded… familiar. The long claw tapping on the newspaper didn’t seem ready to eviscerate him just now. He…wasn’t going to be eaten? Or roasted alive? The dragon was wearing the same kind of scarf Helena favored. Huh.
“One would think that the protests have been visible enough that the company taking action to move them out of the way would be bigger news. But no, just a little side column on page six talking about how they’re gone so the street should be clear and barely mentioning the fact that the company hired people to [do a thing that’s probably not violent but is probably unethical; this is how I make notes to myself to fix a thing in second draft]. Absolutely infuriating. I feel like I’m going to start, like breathing fire or something.”
Benjamin stared at the dragon. Once you got past the fact that her eyes were now slitted, they were the same color as Helena’s. And if you squinted, her face did kind of look like Helena if she were a lizard. And honestly the intense passion was very Helena. She’d threatened breathing fire before. Benjamin looked down at the wand he was still holding and then back at her.
Helena- well, probably Helena- was looking at him but some of the angry intensity was gone and now she was scrutinizing his face. “Are you all right? Do I… have something on my face?”
“Huh? Oh. No…” Benjamin let go of the wand. There she was, Helena in all her five-foot-nothing glory, her curly brown hair swept up in a twist and her jean jacket covered in National Park patches. That had… been there when she was a dragon, too, hadn’t it? He picked up the wand and Helena swelled before his eyes, red burnished scales covering her face and hands. Fascinating. “No, sorry, I was deep in thought and my brain was confused by the sudden track switch. You’re good. Seen Jacquis yet?” He looked around the cafe but Jacquis was an excuse.
The brickwork looked the same. The painted cats on the rust-red walls chased the same yarn and watched the same wooden ornaments. But the man in the corner now hulked over his tiny phone, a troll with hair of swampweed sneering at what his massive fingers were typing. The cashier at the counter looked like an aspen tree personified, trembling as the woman in front of her shrieked about the freshness of the bagels, pointing accusingly with bird feet and flapping vulture’s wings to emphasize her point. A hulking bear wearing the owner’s apron swept the cashier out of the way, growling at the harpy in front of him until she cowered and fled for the door. The woman by the window was made of copper and brass and glass, her head clear behind a shining faceplate to show gears and clockwork ticking inside her, a glowing ember in her chest glinting with fading light. What was going on?
and with setup completed, the story will continue later…
Intellectual Property of Elizabeth Doman
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