“Why are you so difficult? I can force you, you know.”
“Honey, I been forced since I turned double digits. Forced is my middle name, submissive I’m not.” Although Jane’s working it her way, I feel the need to add some finality beside her lack of fear. “Yeah, okay, so we both know, no matter what I told my mother, you forced us to be here. And we are. That’s all you get for now. Deal with it.” And when I pick up the envelope, it’s as though Jane rips it open and digs in. I continue to respond to his threat my way, seasoning it with the education I’ve gleaned from Jane. “Thing is, you need me and you’re gonna have to kill me to try to get me to give up everything, which will lead to nothing for you but a big surprise. It’s clear I don’t want a knock-down drag-out just yet, or I’d jump at it. That’s what’s making me so … obliging. You trust no one. I get it, don’t give a shit. You want my help, back off.”
Vuur stares at me through eyes filled with years of knowledge, then tries, “I simply thought it might be lucrative for both of us if we know the level of assistance we provide, and our individual motives.”
“Yeah, and chickens have lips and bears don’t shit in the woods,” Jane says as we open the folded power bill we’d just removed from its Consumers Electric envelope.
“I do not see what your ludicrous answer has to do with my assumption.”
“It means you’re full of crap,” I say, feeling Jane’s pride swell. “You just want to know if I can kill you.”
“Actually, I am warring with myself to throw caution to the wind and find out. If you do not give me a legitimate answer occasionally, I will be happy to entertain my inquisitive urges!” A puff of smoke wafts from Vuur’s nostrils.
I feel Jane’s face constrict in frustration; her eyes get smaller, and her mouth wrinkles her upper lip. Then she cocks her head and pops open her mouth, tongue-in-cheek before saying, “Why ya lookin’ for Gaire?”
“To bring his head back to his father and claim my reward.”
“Yeah, I got that. Her? Not so much,” Jane says. “She wants him alive. She—”
“Your incessant need to speak in third person is driving me—”
“Hey, get off my shit and bring it back to where it is! Explain again, what part of this relationship is about her needs?” Jane uses her hands and face like humans use garlic and Italian seasoning.
Vuur’s jaw tightens. “Fine, I will allow … Jane, to see the light of day! Which, may I say, is getting darker by the minute!”
I feel, up until now, Jane has done a really good job of skirting the main issue—the fact that I simply do not want to lose Jane until after I find Gaire—and then she lies and says, “Not a damn thing you can do gets us anything we want. But guess what? We get it. Got it? So, get your passive-aggressive fire-breathing dragon ass out of my face, or go right ahead and try to kill us.”
Jane shakes her head at the dragon when he makes no aggressive moves. We both ignore the smoke wafting from his ears.
He stares at her, arms wrapped around his chest, hands held hostage by his armpits.
“Uh-huh, we didn’t think so.” I team up with Jane, and find some of her in my next sentence. “We done what you asked so far, and since we’re the only ones that might could figure out where Gaire went, it’s you that needs to jump on the Team Jane bus.” Jane really takes over. “So, here’s the way it’s gonna work. Back the hell off! Give us breathin’ room. Treat us like a partner. Then we look for Gaire, we find him, and that’s when we see who gets to keep him.” I meekly ask, “Does that work for you?”
Chapter 12
Gaire
I’m fifteen hundred miles north of Purgatory, driving around Michigan State campus and carrying a whole new identity. I purchased it from the aboveground operation ROAR, Rogues Operating Above the Radar. I’m six two, one-hundred-ninety-five pounds with shoulder-length sandy-blond hair, a tan face and nickel-grey eyes. Only three things circle my mind: securing a residence, poking around Michigan’s Down Under to establish boundaries within this otherworld community, and finding CeCe—all three, without being recognized.
I spot a sign for the administration office, but have to park my rental car seven rows away in the crowded parking area across the street from the building.
The halls are busy with the bluster of college kids. Odors piqué my senses: Laundry detergent and the scent of just-bought clothes spar through the friction of movement and push need into frustration. Male and female pheromones seasoned with store bought perfumes, masculine sweat, and feminine musk, mingle and dance erotically. My mouth salivates for a taste of blood.