Page 44 of Kenna's Dragon

“Fucking wolf-boy,” I mutter as I reach my bus stop.

My hood is still high around my face, but I keep my eyes fixed downward, not making eye contact with anyone.

How many of them have seen this? How many people know who I am?

As I continue reading, there’s nothing in the article that identifies Blair. Which I suppose makes sense. It’s not like Dylan would have any reason to know or guess he was the one who took me.

The article has more photos and a couple of video clips that I scroll right past, not interested in seeing myself being picked off like a field mouse in a hawk’s grasp, and a sick feeling seeps into my stomach as another paragraph catches my eye.

Byrne was identified as being an employee of the Paranormal Citizens Relations Bureau, leading to speculation that this may have been some sort of workplace spat or office romance gone wrong.

Even though there’s no mention of Blair in the article, seeing the Bureau brought into it is… bad. Really bad. Not only for what it means for my employment, but because this is the last thing the Bureau needs. Thinking back to what Blair said about outside pressures affecting the Bureau’s work, and knowing what a circus it was after everything that went down with Daniel Sorenson last fall, the dread in my stomach grows heavier and heavier with each passing moment.

By the time I make it onto the bus and into my seat, all that dread is a lead weight. I spend the ride home with my head down in my phone, reading hot take after hot take on Twitter about me, the dragon, peoples’ wild theories about what happened.

It’s a welcome relief when I make it to my stop, and an even more welcome relief to hurry up the Victorian’s porch stairs and have the front door closed behind me.

“Kenna?” Fran calls out as I step inside “Is that you?”

Before I can answer, she comes into the entryway from the kitchen, and whatever she sees on my face has her cursing softly.

She steps forward to wrap me up in a hug. “What happened?”

Wordlessly, I pull my phone from my pocket and open up Twitter. Fran’s eyes narrow as she reads, then widen as she realizes what she’s looking at.

“That was you? Last Friday? Being kidnapped?”

I nod silently, and she curses again.

“Come on,” she says, grabbing my hand. “House family meeting. Now.”

19

Kenna

By the time I get off the bus down the street from the Bureau the next morning, I’m feeling a little steadier than I was yesterday.

Part of it is from the warm embrace of all my roomies supporting me last night, listening and commiserating and letting me vent.

Still, with as much as I did share, I stopped short of admitting who exactly the dragon is and how I know him. Whether they’ve connected any dots or assumed that the man who approached me on Saturday is one in the same with the dragon who kidnapped me the week before, I’m not sure. And even if they did suspect, they were kind enough not to ask about it as they did their damnedest to cheer me up.

I wouldn’t exactly call myselfcheerfulthis morning, but I feel ready to face whatever’s coming as I open the Bureau’s front doors and walk inside.

And, as it turns out, that happens to be having the attention of pretty much every being I pass fixed squarely on me.

I keep my head as high as I can as I get in the elevator. Even with the deafening silence of the ride up to the fifth floor, I don’t break.

It’s not until I get to my desk and see my boss already waiting there for me that I feel the first crack in my composure.

“Hey Yvette,” I say cautiously as I approach, wondering for the second time in less than two weeks if I’m about to lose my new job.

“Hi Kenna. Would you join me in the conference room for a few minutes?”

I nod and set my stuff down on my desk. I don’t look up, but I can feel the weight of all my coworkers’ stares on me. Following Yvette to the small conference room near the communications department, that weight only gets heavier and more suffocating with each step.

“You’re not in trouble,” Yvette says as soon as the door closes behind us and we sit down. “But HR is going to be joining us for a chat.”

As if on cue, the door opens and Yolanda, the HR rep I met on my first day, steps into the room. Like Yvette, she’s wearing a guarded expression as she takes a seat on the other side of the table.

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