Flying the Storm

Chapter Two: The World Outside

Unfortunately for me, Vancouver was one of the many places where the enormous, incredible dragons that I am so fond of, were not welcome. 

I spent the days that followed our summons daydreaming about which of my dragons I would ride into Vancouver, only to find out on the day we left that I wouldn't be able to take any of them. According to Cassian, dragons are not a common form of transport in the city, and for the most part, the only commonplace dragons there are the little Rootsnouts that dig in people's garbage and pick fights with coyotes. So we would be taking a car. 

The drive was long and horrible, I ended up carsick and wickedly claustrophobic about two hours in. I hate most vehicles and enclosed spaces, so the little Ford we were taking to Vancouver was just perfect. 

"God, why couldn't we have flown? I would have been willing to land outside of the city and take the car in then." I moaned, leaning my head against the seat in front of me. 

"How do you manage to get motion sick in cars, but not on dragonback a thousand feet in the air?" Oz seemed genuine enough, but his question only made things worse. 

I turned my head just enough to give him a death glare. 

"Oh, shut up."

After what seemed to be an eternity, we arrived in Vancouver. 

I stepped out of the car and damn near kissed the ground beneath my feet. The relief I felt at finally being out of that sardine tin was almost enough to make the grime and dung covered concrete appealing. 

Almost... 

The auction was to start in about fifteen minutes, it gave us enough time to slip inside and alert our allies to our presence before we needed to be on the lookout for the egg. Before we could do that however, we needed to look the part. 

In our dragon gear, we would have stuck out like sore thumbs. Most dragon hunters and trappers don't wear any gear, they rely on their traps for protection. So, needless to say, if something goes wrong, there's no coming back. The hunters who don't have to wear any gear are seen as the best; no need to wear anything protective if there's no risk of harm. 

We swapped our usual attire out for the uniforms of the auction hall staff. This would allow us to access to pretty much anywhere in the building, and, if we seem slightly incompetent in the beginning, no one would make eye contact with us. It was perfect. 

The crisp white shirts and black slacks of the uniforms was foreign to me, to all of us. I noticed Quin tugging at their collar, and Oz smoothing his pants almost obsessively. I was definitely guilty of some tic of my own, but at the time it never occurred to me. 

We snuck in through the rear kitchen door, and were accepted almost immediately. I'd gotten a plate of what looked to be fish and crackers thrust into my hands, along with an order to go cater to the guests. 

I realized as soon as I set foot outside of the kitchen that the plate of hors d'oeuvres was a blessing in disguise. I knew what our allies looked like, but they didn't know me. The plate was the perfect opportunity for me to look around. 

Everyone in the auction hall was dressed to the nines, I almost couldn't believe that this was an illegal operation. I understood why the uniforms were so plain at that moment, it was a clear distinction between 'them' and 'us'. 

I snuck through the maze of beautiful criminals, occasionally offering a cracker, until I finally set eyes on our trump card...

Josephine La Rae, an incredibly wealthy French business woman. She didn't work within the Sanctuaries, but definitely played her part in ensuring their presence.