“I told you to keep the windows up,” I tease.
“Sorry for being an asshole.” A sigh pushes his words. “I know we’re both stressed, but I’m making it worse by worrying about you, that I’m not strong enough to keep you safe when we find this guy. I tried to kill Vuur once. My poison didn’t do a damn thing to the dragon. And we both know I can’t kill a doppelganger. What good am I?”
“Maybe you can only kill Vuur before he shifts,” I say.
A light comes on behind his stormy blue eyes.
“That is very possible,” Gaire says. “I remember a fairytale my mother told me over and over. It was about a dragon couple, centuries ago, that almost wiped out the wendigo race. In the tale, great warriors—humans—slayed the male dragon and captured the female. They then mated with her, hoping to gain an ability to stay alive under wendigo’s attacks. Mom hypothesized it was how shaper-shifter dragons were born.” Gaire looks over at me. “The story ends with the wendigo killing all of the changelings, but who knows?”
“Jeeze, that’s worse than a Grimm Brothers’ tale. Your mother is kind of sadistic, isn’t she?”
“I must be a bit deranged too because I loved that fairytale. It made me dream of killing human warriors with mighty swords who rode dragons in the moonlight. Maybe she was testing me.”
“How about we get to the hotel and test our theory out? Slide over,” I say, opening the passenger door. “I’ll drive, you shift just in case. I doubt the Ambassador’s clientele will notice you’re a bit … different. We need a leash. I think there’s a dollar store on East Colonial Drive on the way to the hotel,” I say, dodging the vagrant and trotting around to the driver’s side. “Just remember, strike before Vuur turns.”
“You forgot a couple of things,” he says.
I smile. “Like what?”
“First of all, aren’t we taking Jane’s car? You know. Lake County tags and all?”
Why is he grinning?
“Uh, that’s alright. Slide over.” I shoo him with my free hand.
“And, sweetie?”
“Yeah?”
If I were dressed in Jane, she would be pulling the Smith & Wesson and telling Gaire to zip it. Probably better I’m not tempted.
“The Vuur in the hotel room is just a host. I can’t poison the doppelganger underneath the skin.” He smiles, pointing to the passenger seat. “Get in.”
As Gaire backs out of the alley, I ashamedly wished I’d snagged the gun.
After checking the corner again and Gaire’s cell phone for texts from Mom, we hit the trail. About ten minutes later, we pull into the back parking lot at the Ambassador. I try not to look at the girl on her knees beside the dumpster as we head to a back door next to it. Gaire blatantly stares. The guy above the girl’s mouth smiles at him. Gaire doesn’t smile back.
We go in the back door and down a dark hall, the same one I ran down wearing Jane the day I doubled up on her. Only I was leaving then, mission accomplished. This one is just starting.
We jog up two flights of stairs, past brown paper bags holding empties, and prophylactics also holding empties. I’m in the process of wishing I didn’t let Gracie slide her burgundy polished toes into leather sandals as I wade through enough cigarette butts to damn a third-world country with wide-spread lung cancer.
We exit on the second floor, a few feet from room two-oh-one. A loud bang at the end of the hall has Gaire pulling me back through the door and into the stairwell.
“What the hell?” I exacerbate a whisper while trying to stick my head out the crack Gaire left with the door. “That could be my mother?”
“Shush,” Gaire hisses, free arm around my chest, and his cheek next to mine.
“I’ll kill her, if you don’t shut up!” a baritone voice shouts.
I shriek, “That’s—”
Gaire slaps his hand over my mouth. The door closes against our noses.
“I know it’s Vuur’s voice. So let’s tell whoever is banging their head, and the doppelganger wearing Vuur, we’re here as well.”
“You don’t have to be a prick,” I mumble under his hand. “That could’ve been Jane’s head.”
He lets go of my mouth.
“And if you keep dragging, pulling, and pushing me around,” I say, “I’m gonna find something to climb on and kick you in the ass!”
Gaire
As much as I want to throw Luna over my shoulder and carry her back down to the car, I give her a lingering peck on the lips and ask, “Sweetheart, do you think you can drum up a little of CeCe’s wit, Jane’s street sense, add it to Gracie’s common sense, and shelf your blatant disregard for our safety?”
Luna nods Gracie’s head, but her brow is furrowed and her right eye twitches with each bang on the wall down the hall.
“Okay, we’re going to open the door, and we’re just going to listen a second.”
I inch aside, and Gracie opens the door. We both listen, but I keep my hand firmly planted on her midsection, just in case.
More banging.