Page 11 of Dragon's Desire

“Bitte bangzhu ‘ana,” The woman with a blanket wrapped around her said. “Main nahin kar sakta vejo.”

Peter jumped in, “Oh, I know bitte.”

“It’s the same deal. It’s like she’s speaking a smattering of languages and look at her eyes. She’s blinded,” Kiercy said defeated.

“Hey,” she said to the officer, "do you got a pen and pad?”

“Sure,” he said as he produced both items.

Kiercy put them into the hands of the victim as gently as possible, though she was trembling with fear. “Write down who you are, and where you live.”

If the were-panther understood, it wasn’t clear, because the only things she scrawled onto the paper didn’t recognize any written language Peter or Kiercy were familiar with.

She put a hand on the patrolman’s shoulder. “It’s no use. Have her transferred to PEACE headquarters. We’ll try to help her.”

Kiercy pulled her radio out and called the situation in to let them know another victim would be inbound.

8

KIERCY

As they walked away from the crime scene back towards the main street, Kiercy was lost in thought. She couldn’t get the horrible image of the blinded woman and her gibberish out of her mind. It allowed a chill to set in on her that soaked right in to her bones. She crossed her arms and rubbed on them with opposing hands in a self-hug.

When they arrived at the street, she stopped. New York City truly was the city that never slept, but at this hour, the streets were certainly much less populated. She looked up and down the street, almost half expecting to see Arthur Legermain jump out from behind something.

Scanning around her, she finally turned far enough to see Peter still skulking around her. He shook his head grimly, as though he was also processing the gravity of the moment, and then said, “So, are we going to go fuck at your place, or mine, darlin’?”

Kiercy shook her head in absolute disbelief. “You are without a doubt, the most pig- headed, pea-brained, sex addicted, disgusting brute I’ve ever met.”

Peter nodded slowly, even somberly as the barbs registered and sunk in. “A hotel then?”

She threw her hands up in exasperation and walked in a small circle before coming back to push a finger into his apparently sculpted pecs. She could tell because there was zero insertion of her finger into his chest. It was like jabbing drywall.

“I need to be so perfectly crystal clear with you right now, so that even you can understand. We are not happening. You shall not, and will not, have sexual congress with me, in this, or any other universe, for perpetuity, forever and ever,” Kiercy wanted to accent the point by punching his rugged face.

He stroked his beard a few times while he considered her words, and prepared to speak, but Kiercy beat him to the punch. “Ever!”

Peter closed his mouth on the words he was about to speak, and apparently changed gears when he finally did speak. “Fine. I guess you’ll drop me off at the pub then. I know it’s late, but if I hurry, I can probably manage to shack up with a passable bit of strange.”

“Great, let’s do that right now,” as she spoke she could literally feel her blood pressure rising. This awful man was pushing her to the brink of tolerance.

In the car, the only thing Peter muttered to himself was, “I don’t get it. You look good. I look good. We’re young. The night is cold. Just doesn’t make any sense.”

If he was baiting her into an argument, it didn’t work. She just kept on driving and ultimately brought the car to a stop in front of a local watering hole.

“Will this do?” she asked him.

He eyed the establishment for a few moments before begrudgingly accepting. “Why not? I’m sure someone in there won’t be made of ice.”

“Here’s hoping!” she mockingly crossed her fingers as he disembarked.

Just as soon as the door closed, she hit the gas and squealed the tires just a little. She drove off and couldn’t help but look back once in the rear view, seeing Peter staring as she drove away.

Back at her apartment, she looked out her window to a shitty view. Basically, across an alley to another building, but if she strained her neck, she could see a bit of the moon over a rooftop.

“Whatever,” she said to Robey, her familiar black cat. The cat purred and brushed up against her leg. “Oh, are you going to demand affection too? What is it with men tonight?”

She moved away from the window, and into the kitchen area where she poured herself a glass of wine. “I need to get to bed, but I’m so wound up from everything.” Upon closer examination, she realized the glass wasn’t quite full enough and tipped in just a bit more.

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