Court of Glass and Dreams

Chapter 3 - I become a kidnapper (this is not a downgrade)

"Let me see if I've got this straight—,"
"Mum," I sigh, face down on the kitchen table. It is eight am. I should not have to think about thinks before eight am.
"You go to the full moon party. You 'hook up' with the Sergetta's only daughter, Jacquette. Weird. Then you put out the power to the entire city, despite claiming to have been targeting only one block which is the Sergetta's mansion. Weird. Then you return home without half of your clothes. Weird. Is there anything I'm missing, Alex?" my mother asks, spinning a hand.
"I admit it sounds bad when you say it like that," I say.
"I can't do any classes, or watch anything, why'd you have to get the whole city?" Lazlo sighs.
"Because I am not good at what I do," I say, hand to my chest.
"You are great at what you do son—what?" My father is looking through the photographs on his phone.
"They are dangerous. They could target you because you were with her. And I don't think it's too much to ask you don't fry the power grid so badly London is blacked out for days?" My mother sighs, "Alex I'm worried about you."
"I didn't know I did it that badly. I overestimated," I say, shrugging, "And I feel bad for Jacquette. She's—not as bad as the rest and that's a pretty miserable family. I told her to call you about—girl stuff.'
My mother takes a deep breath.
"I did!"
"I know you did. I'm reconciling this information with the fact that you returned without half your clothes," my mother sighs.
"Did you take this one there—?" My father shows me his phone.
"Yeah—? Why?" I ask, reaching for some of Lazlo's waffle squares. He swats at me.
"It's from the Montres family. They're in the Americas. What's old Sergetta doing talking to Americans?" My father frowns. My mother leans over to look at the image.
"I don't know I was just taking pictures," I say, putting my head down and wondering if I can go back to sleep, "Ask one of the people I borrowed—? LUCY—?"
A girl scurries into the room. One of the ones from the dance, but now she's dressed normally, well normally for our house, in cargos and a button up. She took the offer of a new job despite the 'this means you'll participate in criminal activity' fun disclaimer. Her black hair is braided back out of her face, and she's carrying a set of linens like she was actually busy, but she trips into the room quickly, a near fearful expression on her face.
"That's how we summon people darling you're fine," my mother says, waving her over. The house full of psychics is naturally unsettling, even we have no intention of using it on any of the staff. The new recruits are understandably jumpy. Lazlo gets up to go take what she's holding so she can help. Both of us have our eyes averted politely, because our mother raised us right and we don't look other people in the eye it's threatening.
"Here, girl, do you remember anything to do with this?" My father asks, holding out the image.
"I don't remember much, m'lord. They'd hypnotize us a lot my head would go funny," she says, twisting her hands a little.
I take the linen from Lazlo to wrap up in since clearly I'm not going to get to go back to sleep.
"Hm, damned inconvenient of them. Anyway what about Americans? Ever come to the house?" My father asks, still looking at the image.
"I think once or twice—? I know one fellow. I'd gotten a look at him a time or two because we'd be brought in. Then they'd hypnotize us," she says, tugging on her fingers more.
"Let's try this do you think you could show me where the compound's camera room is?" I ask, propping my head up on one hand.
"Ah—I think so," Lucy says, definitely prepared to be mind controlled, "If I saw it again. I don't know exactly."
"Excellent. Show me," I bounce up, flourishing off the sheet.
"You are not," my mother says.
"She can't go back alone, I need the information, and I'm bored," I say, innocently.
"Don't forget in trouble for turning out the lights to the entire city," my father grunts.
"That too," I snap my fingers at him.
"Can I come?" Lazlo asks.
"No, you have lessons," my father says.
"Why doesn't Alexander have lessons?"
"Alexander is a blight on society and we have given up on him," my father says.
"Alexander's school is closed anyway is the correct answer," our mother says, so nicely, petting Lazlo's head.
"Come on," I say, to Lucy, "You can show me where you think it is."
"Won't it all be closed up? With the power out?" Lucy asks.
"Oh I'm sure the grid will come back up now that the threat of Alexander actually having to attend school has been lifted," our father says, incredibly calmly given the sentence and implications there of.
"Yeah he's like, definitely breaking it everytime they try to fix it to sleep. This happens once a semester," Lazlo clarifies.
"I'm hurt. And wounded. And deeply. To the depths of my soul. And synonym for aggrieved—,"
My parents, in unison, "ALEXANDER."
"Fine," I sigh, "I last fried it at midnight should be up in a few hours are you happy?"
"Generally would be more so if my coffee were warm," my father says, still not looking up from the papers he's reading.
"Alexander stop causing city wide power outages," my mother sighs, "We talked about this last Tuesday."
"You're—why that happens?" Lucy asks, horrified.
"Shh, but yeah a little," I say, "Only for emergencies." 
"Emergencies are having attend school or being at a party he doesn't like," Lazlo says.
"So once a semester. They're very dramatic I didn't take down the hospitals. People should really have generators. Come on, let's get changed," I say.
"Why are we getting changed—?" Lucy asks, following me out of the room anyway.
"because if you dress slutty and hold your hands like this, nobody accuses you of hacking into a computer system, they assume you really are just lost," I say, holding my hands limp at the wrist, "It's proven, I'm going to do a paper on it."
"JASON, can you find Lucy some slutty clothes that she's happy with we're going spying!" I call to our manservant, as I ascend the twisting iron stairs.
"Oh aye, the power going back on soon then?"
"Ugh everyone blames me for that."
like five people: "IT'S DIRECTLY YOUR FAULT."
I wind up in a blue tiger striped see through shirt, very tight vegan leather pants, my usual glittery boots, a silver choker and my usual assortment of stud earrings. I also put on make up specifically, eyeliner and a general dusting of glitter.
By the time I'm done Lucy is in an equally revealing outfit, of a miniskirt, platforms, and loose top that displays plenty of bra.
"Fun! Come on," I say, walking past her, smacking a pair of mirrored glasses into her hands, "There's a tray by the door. Wear these anytime you leave the Tower, or if we have unsavory guests."
"Right," she fiddles with them to put on.
"Better. There are goggles someplace those are better they don't fall off. But this is more comfortable and obviously casual," I guide her down the stairs and towards one of the street entrances.
"We're—walking?"
"Yes it's two blocks—? Sergettas have you used to helicopters?" I purr.
"Yes, also was surprised YOU'RE walking," Lucy mutters, hurrying to keep up with me.
"Oh. Yeah also we're not technically supposed to be there. They're not gonna check the servants entrance," I say, pausing. She's got a much slower stride than I do.
"Interesting, that's all," she says, hurrying to catch up.
"Yeah first con you're fine I wouldn't make you do it, but I need to know how to get in and I'm sure you don't want me in your head, again," I say.
"Again?" She says, then catches herself.
"To get you out of the dance, I had to enter and evict the lowlife," I explain falling into step with her as we shift through the crowded street. Still too early to be up. "Do you want coffee?"
"What? No—,"
"I do. We're making a detour," I say.
"Ah—why?"
"Because I want coffee. And carrying an iced coffee and holding your wrists limp does not spell out 'invasive hacker' it says 'idiot who didn't know he was in a restricted room'," I say.
"Seriously though? Why are you like this?" She asks, hurrying a little as I detour towards a favorite coffee place. The roadside stands with the not necessarily legal stuff are the best.
"You knew I'm different that's why you trusted me," I say, which isn't an answer. Teriks have a reputation. Yes a bad one, usually however, among the common people it's much improved.
"Everyone knows Teriks are fair," she says, "Yes I know. I'm asking why. I'm—trusting you a lot here. You could answer the question."
"Oh I don't have a good answer, that's all. I'm not a completely terrible person. That's it," I say, shrugging, "I'm not even a good person just not completely terrible. I don't have some tragic backstory motivation to make you want to trust me."
"There doesn't seem to be a lot in it for you," she says.
"Oh there actually is. Age old question, is it better to be feared or loved?" I ask.
She shakes her head.
"Machiavelli would have us believe some of both. But it's a trick question. Because instilling fear takes more time than instilling love. And all men are selfish, and want power. The afraid eventually, can rise up. You don't rise up against those you love, do you now?" I ask.
"You might," she says.
"You might. But probably not. So there's your egotistical answer. Teriks care less about seats on the Council, than, actual power. Defined as the ability to walk freely in the street, staff willing to fight kill and die to protect your wife and small children. That sort of thing. Hence me I assume you know or guessed I'm a clone? Yeah, nice psychic able to protect the family legacy," I say, walking on.
"No I would have no way of knowing that?" Lucy mutters, following me anyway.
"I look exactly like my father—?"
"You're literally supposed to be related—?"
"Well you have me there. I was thinking it was obvious. Right. Anyway we don't go in for all the disgusting in breeding science is much simpler don't you think?" I ask, "Get a half-way decent psychic."
"I thought that wasn't science though? That's like—talent just like you're good at dancing or something that's not genetic," she hurries after me.
"What makes you say that?" I ask.
"The old stories. The God of Death gave the psychics their powers when he choose. When we'd have need. That's why the inbreeding doesn't work. Or cloning. If the mother prays to the God then he may bless her child," she says, frowning a little past the glasses.
"Excellent I'll repeat that and blame my mother next city wide power outage," I say, lightly.
"No seriously. It's supposed to be true. And that that's why their whole incest—thing—is defying the God," she says.
"And they'll all be cut down and die out because they're bad people? And I'm not supposed to be here? No good doesn't win," I say.
"Then why do you do it?"
"Age old question I already answered. We're selfish this way," I say, stopping outside my favorite coffee hut, "Antonio!"
"Good morning. Your mother kick you out of the Tower already, princeling?" Antonio, the owner, waves me over, a disposable cup of steaming coffee already set aside.
"Something—remarkably close to that yeah, actually, power should be back up in a few hours I heard," I say.
"Eh it's good for business. Say, I've been hoping to see you. Tell your father that twice this week at the docks. Unmarked ships. But the people on them, my brother said, speaking like Americans," he says.
"In breach of our trade agreement? Never. Thank you he'll be interested," I say, nodding, as I sort for coins..
"Your money's no good here, go on," Antonio says.
"Come by the Tower if you learn anything else, I"m sure my father will be interested," I say, nodding.
Lucy waits for me to start back on her way before asking, "They just give you free coffee?"
"My father overlooks little things like trade permits that they definitely don't have."
"That sounds like a serious law to break for free coffee."
"Now that you say that it is," I concede, "We get information too. As you heard. Helps to have eyes and ears around London. Also free coffee."
We make it to the Sergetta compound in record slow time because I stop to talk to a couple more street vendors to see if they have any information and assure them that the power will be back up soon. We're not trying to make time, though, because the power being down actually hinders us getting in. The techs get it up and running within the hour, and before noon we've wound our way back to the compound.
Lucy shivers.
"You don't have to go in," I say, feeling a bit bad bringing her back here.
"You're the reason I got out in the first place," she says, adjusting her shirt though that doesn't give it more coverage.
We wind our way around the back where the staff entrance is. The slaves scanning in and out do absolutely nothing to stop us from simply slipping in. A few recognize Lucy but they keep their mouths shut.
"What if they hypnotize them into admitting we were here?" Lucy hisses.
"Oh they're going to blame me," I say, laying a hand on the wall to short out the cameras. It only takes a few seconds, then I nod her to keep walking. "I'm counting on it. They can't PROVE it was me. That's the thing we focus on."
Lucy sighs like she doesn't think that's a good policy, full unaware of how many international crimes alone the Tarik family has gotten away with based on this exact policy. I don't tell her. We don't advertise that sort of thing because the point is you can't prove we did it. 'You can't prove it was us' should be our house motto. It basically kind of is.
"This way," Lucy nods, "Only a few were allowed down here—ones they trusted, not slaves."
"Sweet got to be fun then," I say, cheerfully sipping my coffee.
"Is this really just a normal Wednesday for you?"
"Oh the god it's Wednesday?!" I ask. I thought it was Tuesday.
She looks over at me. I can feel the disapproval, despite mirrored lenses.
"Yeah. This is how I live my life. Like—five minutes till they come check us—oh lovely," I say, sure enough it is the camera system. All hardwired. How cute.
I plug in a drive. Can't be hacked its not on a network. So I walked right in.
Lucy hovers by the door, nervously, fiddling with the glasses.
"Keep those on and you're good," I say.
"I hear footsteps," she says.
"Then start acting dumb and confused," I say, standing, hand on hip, waiting for the download.
"How are you this calm?" She hisses.
"Back to it being a normal Wednesday for me—? Also, total disclosure I can probably flirt my way out of it," I say.
"Can you?" Lucy asks, which is a direct and accurate assessment of my flirting abilities based on my best attempt to stand in an alluring manner is by taking one arm out of the sleeve of my shirt and leaning against the wall like my spine is crooked.
The door creaks open. And it turns out flirting won't be necessary.
"I'm going to play in here!" Espen hangs on the door handle, a toy ship in one hand, face smeared with chocolate.
"Espen, are you supposed to play in here?" I ask, relaxing a little, while swiftly moving in between him and Lucy.
"No! I'm going to touch eeeeevrything like I'm not supposed to!!" So incredibly happy with this plan, he plops in the chair and starts slamming his baby hands on all the buttons, probably breaking the system irreparably. Great now we won't be blamed for trespassing. And we can probably sell them a back up of the system here because I just downloaded it. I pocket my drive while Espen continues to pat the controls lovingly and in a manner that is definitely detrimental to the computer.
"Okay we're gonna go," Lucy says.
"We can't leave him—Espen where are your nurses?" I ask.
"I made them go to sleep because they kept me in my room! I don't want to stay in my room I want to play!" He says.
"Someone is always following this kid he always breaks out, we were all supposed to be on the look out and—avoid him at all costs," Lucy says.
"Yeah those nurses may not be alive," I say.
"Oh fuck," Lucy whispers.
"And we can't tell anyone we found him because we're not supposed to be here," I look at the unruly five year old who shouldn't be loose as it is let alone unguarded.
Damn it.
This just became a kidnapping.
"Do you want to come and have some cookies?" I ask holding out a hand.
"Yeah!!!" Espen promptly crawls into my arms smashing his face into my shoulder, "Jackie likes you. You're NICE."
"Yeah we're gonna tell your sister where you are," I say, walking out of the room.
"Oh we are not," Lucy says.
"Oh yes we are," I say, "Do you know much we could get for him?"
"He's dangerous."
"He's expensive. And I'm going to tell his sister he's fine," I add.
"That's his mother," Lucy mutters.
"Jaquette is my mummy AND my sister. Two. I call her sister," Espen narrates.
"Oh by the god—okay so you know that. Call her your sister she likes that," I mutter. Lovely they both just know that. I feel bad for Jacquette she doesn't think he knows. Then again the baby psychic probably knows everything she's taking her glasses off around him.
We walk out of the compound unhindered. Not that there aren't slaves, but those slaves are fucking thrilled to see the kid go. Like I think the word celebration was floated. As well as 'four casualties this week' like they were ready to sell the brat for a cold potato. Someone taking him off their hands is great they were going to pay for this to happen.
Espen rides in my arms happily. He tires to take my glasses off but I stop him fairly easily, redirecting him with the reminder he can have a snack soon. He's very used to being carried places and apparently being outside seeing people is more fun than he usually gets.
"I always have to wear a mask I don't Wike it," the boy babbles.
"Like. Annunciate you're five," I say.
"He's four," Lucy tells me.
"I'm four," Espen holds up four fingers, "Lucy can we play?"
"No I'm not cleared to play with you anymore, thank the god," she mutters, "What is your plan here?"
"I'm going to play!" Espen says.
"Not you," we say, in unison.
"I ah, am messaging ahead to warn the staff it's full glasses till further notice, we've got a baby psychic, and I told my brother, he hasn't done much lately and I feel kinda bad this will be his first kidnapping," I say.
"First?"
"First."
"First?"
"Stop saying that in that tone of voice."
She continues saying it for the rest of the walk home, by which point Espen is bored and demanding his promised cookies and toys.
When we return to the Tower Lazlo is waiting to meet us, glasses on. He does however have cookies. Espen takes three from the plate and starts wandering off to eat them.
"What do I tell mum?" Lazlo asks.
"I don't know! It's your kidnapping now. My only involvement is letting his sister know he's okay," I say, messaging Jacquette. I think I put it tactfully.
Me: you know that messy little chaotic psychic you like?
Jacquette: oh the god, Alexander WHY AREN'T YOU AT SCHOOL
Me: so he's fine thank you for asking. Honestly you're welcome he escaped his room.
Jacquette: WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE I SWEAR TO THE GOD ALEX
Me: negotiations will commence with your father shortly. Please stand by and remain calm being aware my mother will be pack bonding to the hellion as we speak
Jacquette: you are not serious. There is no way you just walked away with that kid.
Me: oh I'm incredibly serious what do you think is a good price for him?
She blocks me. Which is fair.
"Okay. My kidnapping," Lazlo says, handing Espen another cookie.
"Full glasses or goggles, constantly, minimize skin to skin contact," I say, "We're going down to the docks—I assume we—? Do you want to come did you have any plans?"
"That was really nice no, I work for you and till two days ago I was a slave for those horrible people no. I have no plans," Lucy says. There's probably some sarcasm there.
"Right, come on then. Two's better than one go change your clothes don't—I can feel it—yes I change clothes this many times a day if I can help it," I say, hurrying on up the stairs.
I change clothes into street attire, cargos, worn boots, a plain dark shirt, stained, and an inexpensive but durable cloth coat. For flavor I slick gel and dye through my soft gold curls till they're limp and at least a light brown. I look more like my mother that way. No we're not related but I look like her and Lazlo with dark hair like this and we should use that sometime.
Lucy is changed before me and waiting at the door when I get down. The docks are a solid hours walk but I know a few short cuts.
"Been down here before?" I ask.
"We were brought on a ship."
"That was on me right," I say.
"No, you weren't to know," she says touching my arm quickly, "No. We were brought on a ship from the continent."
"Do you have somewhere you plan to go back to? When we get around to paying you?"
"I'm getting paid—?"
"Yeah. I mean when money starts coming in. The kidnapping should be really good," I say, "Didn't anyone tell you?"
"Probably. Honestly been something of a state of shock," she says.
"We do have that effect on people—just here," I say, holding out an arm to indicate a turn, "We're taking a short cut."
"Does this short-cut include a detour for coffee?"
"No it's not an Alexander-short-cut it's a normal one," I say, striding on.
"You said you're identical to your father—,"
"Genetically yeah—,"
"Does that mean—well do you live forever, like the Sergettas?" She asks.
"No one lives forever. The God of Death comes for us all. In his time. But, yes I will have a longer lifespan like my father does," I say, "Four, five hundred years. Something in there. No telling he's not died yet. Sergettas are longer I understand these days, not that the current generation has actually survived very long. It messes you up—aging like that. Physically the doctors say I'm about fourteen. Obviously I'm older than that and mentally I am because I've lived longer but—it goes slower and slower. I'll probably look about this age for the next twenty or thirty years."
"Are we like dogs to you then?" She asks.
I laugh.
"No seriously—those of us with normal life spans. Are we just dogs to you basically?" She asks.
"To some of them that is—like I said aging like this? Messes you up. Seriously. It's why the creeps came up with the in breeding. Men are terrified of being alone," I say.
"What about you?"
"Well. No telling what will happen. I can still get killed or the like. That's just aging doesn't account for anything. Do something poetic and die together with someone? We have our choices," I shrug, non comittedly. I don't know how I'll react when I'm all alone. Or if I ever will be. I can clone myself someday. But then leave him or her all alone?
"Sorry," she says, quietly.
"No it's fine. Least weird thing about us probably, to be honest," I smirk.
"The kidnapping was different."
"The kidnapping is fine."
As if on cue I get another text from Jacquette: No seriously Alexander is he okay?
Me: he's fine. He's happy. I'm going say. At a guess. Based off of the number of people who were *meant* to be keeping an eye on him and the number of cookies I gave him in a five minute period. He's having fun
Jacquette: fuck you're probably right
Me: you'll get him home when the ransom is paid I'd say with a new vocabulary but the kid swears. A lot.
Jacquette: that's totally not our fault he looks in people's heads
Me: totally fair have fun at school. Can you...get my homework?
Jacquette: absolutely not
Me; thank the God
Jacquette: I'll send it to your mother
Me: you really don't like me do you?
Jacquette: Alexander re-read this text thread
I leave that on read, because I don't think she expects a response.
The docks are bustling by evening. Thankfully I know about where Antonio's brother would have been meeting a ship. The Thames docks themselves stretch all the way to the channel, and to the river's old end in Oxford. They're restricted to those with passes, or in our case false passes, to examine the vessels or unload. Dockworkers slave day and night.
"Theron family owns all of the dock works. Klines the air stations. That's where they get their money, while Sergettas are land rich and make their money off bleeding the people dry in taxes, plus healthy subsidies on all taxable activities including slavery," I say.
"And how do Tariks make their money?" Lucy asks.
"You're looking at it. Don't look at the back of my head like that. I did say this was my daily routine," I say, leading her among the dockworkers with the confidence of someone who slips down here for the hot gossip on a weekly basis.
"That you did, sire," Lucy says, but now I hear a smile she's trying to smother. I look back and she looks away.
"There's always bottom feeders. We thrive on the scraps. And we like it this way," I say, for more exposition, "Point being. Therons are aware of this. They don't like it. But they view us as a necessary evil plus we sell out the other families often enough. So they let the workers look the other way. They can't spy on their court-mate's ships mind. But they don't care if we do and then tell them what we found. A fine system."
"If dangerous for your neck," she says.
"Nothing risked nothing gained—JACE—where can I find some ships that docked this week? Non descript marks probably normal traders but the crew seems American?" I walk up and embrace a familiar worker. I swear Lucy whispers 'of course you just know people here'.
"Ah Alex. I was wondering when you'd come poking around," the burly man nearly lifts me off my feet in a hug, "Not worrying your mother out this late?"
"Nah, I'm running something down for my father. Antonio mentioned some unusual vessels?" I ask.
"Crimson dock, tenth on the south bank," he nods, "They dock two days ago. Never unload. We don't mess with ships like that."
"Ah I do," I say.
"Be careful now," he says, making a knowing gesture, "Americans usually only mean trouble."
"So do I," I quip, smiling.
"Get lost then you. Stay out of trouble."
I wave, hurrying in the direction he gestured.
"Nice man," Lucy says, maybe ironically.
"He used to work for the Sergetta's as well. He helped out my father some years ago, got him a better job on the docks where his income could be supplemented as our standing informant, and he and his family's visas are always good," I explain, "That was before I was born mind."
"Is it that one?"
"Yeah just up ahead. You want to stay on shore? I know I signed you up for this don't want to get you in it?"
"No, I'm curious now," she says, smiling. I do too.
"Come on," I say.
We walk up the plank of the ship. It's a big vessel, no real identifiers, all grey and dull. A worn brand logo on the side which I'm sure has nothing to do with what it carries.
"No guards," Lucy observes, quietly.
"Yeah. That means that whatever is on board—can't be stolen," I say, quietly.
"A threat."
"A challenge more like," I say, stepping onto the deck, "According the papers I'm a health inspector so we've ever right to be here."
"Except you look fourteen and I'm nineteen."
"Yeah except for that," I say, looking around. The deck of the ship itself is shrouded in fog. There's a noticeable lack of workers. And equipment of any kind. They're not unloading anything.
We look at each other slowly, then approach the hold. The door is secured with just a regular lock, which I quickly pick.
"This is odd," Lucy says, quietly.
"Most ships like this are remotely piloted. So minimal crew necessary, even so," I say, stepping onto the steel steps.
There's a harsh, groaning. Almost mechanical. Almost. No distinctly organic. And a foul smell that rises up.
Lucy steps in behind me.
"Close the door," I say, quietly, placing a call to my father and putting my phone in my pocket. It'll go to his messages and record whatever we're about to find.
The groaning ceases. I take another step, taking a flashlight out of my pocket.
Before us lies a narrow hallway. At the end of which is a large metal door. There are a couple of smaller ones. But the large one has bars on it.
I walk forward, slowly. What's in the cage? It's definitely some sort of animal? Smuggling? Has to be. But docked on the Thames?
There's a low growl from within. Lucy and I both jump back a step, her griping my arm.
There's a slam behind us. We both jump again, turning around.
"Well. Took you people long enough to show up."
The speaker is a man, a bit older than us, with a ripped off shirt and tattoos on both arms. Distinctly American in accent and in manner. He's wearing heavy cargos and boots. Mirrored contacts.
"My ladyship likes to make an entrance," I say, stepping behind Lucy who could not more clearly wish to murder me. "She wanted to inspect personally."
"Fantastic!" I didn't know Americans really talked like this. Okay. "I'm gonna tell them to get going then. We can talk on the way."
"Yes, of course," I say, while Lucy definitely tries to kill me with her mind and the man radios for the ship to leave the dock.
"Nobody said there would be two of you," the man laughs.
"I never travel without my loyal guard," Lucy recovers decently, steadying herself by stepping on my foot.
"Oh ah nice to meet you—Fredrick," the man says, patting himself on his muscled chest.
We both nod.
"Ah all righty then—,"
"Well don't know who we are?" I ask offended.
"Yes of course! Um, right this way. I guess you want to see her?" Fredrick asks.
"Well naturally," Lucy says, sounding offended.
"Yeah ah, over here," he moves behind us, jangling a set of keys. His back turned, we have an extremely rapid furtive conversation using mostly hand gestures to the effect of:
Lucy: WHAT ARE WE DOING?
Me: NOT GETTING KILLED?
Lucy: GOOD ANSWER
And then we go back to acting as normal as possible. For the validity of our ruse I decide on a little backstory which is that we are in love and have at least one child. I'm not going to share that backstory I can't I don't have the time she'll just have to go with it.
"Here we go," Fredrick undoes the lock and pushes back the huge sliding door. The groaning from inside increases. "She's real mad being caged up in here all this way. Got to hand it to you Brits demanding we bring her in person."
"And we appreciate it so much," Lucy says.
"So much that we are going to be paying you double," I say, smoothly.
"Oh wow, really?"
"As a show of good faith—by the god," I breath, as he flicks on a light.
The entire stall is strew in straw. And in the corner. Chained. Lays a giant lizard. It looks at me with miserable yellow eyes. The binds hurt. And it's clearly in pain.
"Aw don't let her fool you. She's a beast when she hits the skies. Take a look at them wings. Fifty. Sixty foot span easy."
"What is that in metric?" Lucy asks, trying to be discerning buyer but clearly as horrified as I am.
"I don't know. It's a half a football field," Fredrick says, as if that's a helpful unit of measurement.
"She is—something," I say.
"Ha. Shocked ain't ya? See while ya'll were over here trying to breed immortality and better psychics. We were cloning the heck out of anything we could get our hands on. Dinosaurs. Sheep. Dinosaurs. You name it. Till we get—this beauty. Closest we'll ever come to a real live dragon," he says, going over to pat the restrained animal.
"We have clones over here, actually," I say.
"No they don't. That's an American thing."
Me, an actual clone: "Oh okay."
"Isn't this a bit small for her? To live in?" Lucy asks, again she's doing a fantastic job of being a discerning buyer.
"Nah they can be shipped in boxes half this size. Like I said don't let 'er fool you. Once she gets out. Killing machine. We'll take care of those psychics of yours in no time. Plus anyone else you don't like," he laughs, like this is the greatest joke.
"But have they actually been trained?" She asks.
"I mean, they eat whatever they want, am I right? But a deal's a deal," Fredrick says.
"And after seeing her I'm sure the offer will be tripled," I say.
"Wow really? I got the idea ya'll were kinda hard asses. But I'm just the keeper," Fredrick goes on, unperturbed.
"Yes of course, thank you for giving us so much of your valuable time," Lucy says, "What with—,"
"War breaking out soon?" Fredrick laughs, "I know right?"
"Yes," I say, very nicely because it's my turn, "But we really must be going. I'm sure the beast's odor isn't any good for the baby."
"Baby?" It would help if they don't say it at once but Fredrick doesn't have the braincells to notice.
"Yeah of course," he gets the door for us to leave, "I didn't know—,"
"No no secret you understand. Us Brit's and our queer cast system," I say, leading Lucy out of the stall. She should be happy we're alive. The dragon groans once more. I wonder quickly if it could tell I'm psychic.
"Yes that's why we must be getting back," Lucy says.
"Oh well we're not going to dock till Paris? I have say ya'll have been very nice. They acted like it was going to take hours."
"Oh well give us your whole—speech," I say, "Do. Seems we're in for quite the boat ride."