Page 40 of Hungry Like A Dragon
Chapter 8
As they hurried down the alley behind Delilah’s shop, Noah kept an eye on the gargoyles perched on the wrought iron fence next to them. He caught the movement as the one on the end shifted from stone to flesh and then disappeared into the shadows while he and Petra turned the corner for Royal Street. No doubt tailing them.
Making sure they followed instructions.
“Hurry up,” he said to Petra, not that he needed to. She was practically jogging, unceremoniously shoving people out of her way as she propelled herself forward. “We need to get back to your house so I can make a call.”
“What?” She stumbled and slowed her gate. Slightly.
“We’re being followed, and I have no idea how good gargoyles’ senses are.”
Petra whipped her head around to glance over her shoulder. “How do you know?” she asked, facing forward again.
“I caught it when he shifted and jumped off his perch on the fence back there.”
“Witches,” Petra muttered. “She must hang out with witches. No other way she could freeze you like that. Not to mention cursing the entire colony. And did you catch that comment about dating a gargoyle? Dragons don’t go out with gargoyles—but witches do. Well, actually, I don’t know if they actually date, but I know witches use them as sentries.”
“We’ll look into that angle, just as soon as we get our daughter back. Well, as soon as we get her safely back home to Detroit. I’m not fucking with Sadie’s life. No way.”
Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.
But, as they hurried down the street, he did.
His mom, healthy and vibrant, beautiful, smiling. And then, practically overnight, sickly and pale. So weak she couldn’t climb the stairs to the bedroom she shared with his dad, so his parents moved downstairs and gave their much larger room to Noah’s older brother.
And then she was gone. The healer had warned them the end was near, so they’d taken turns sitting by her side, he and his siblings. His dad, it seemed, was always there, hovering in the background like a protective, well, dragon.
She’d died on Noah’s watch. That’s how he’d seen it, anyway. He’d dozed off because frankly, sitting at your dying mother’s bedside was boring as hell, and he’d woken with a start when she squeezed his hand.
And then she was gone. The last rattling breath left her body, her hand went limp, and her eyes didn’t close. His dad had grasped his shoulders, lifted him out of the chair, and pushed him out the door. Even though Noah was the last to see her alive, he hadn’t gotten to say good-bye. He’d stood outside the door for long minutes, listening to his father’s heart-wrenching sobs until he couldn’t take it anymore, and he’d run upstairs to his older brother, who had been with a girl at the time, doing things Noah hadn’t been old enough to understand, and was pissed at being interrupted. Noah had screamed, “Mom’s dead,” and then he ran, down the stairs, through the living room, and out the front door.
He’d landed on his grandfather’s doorstep and basically never left. His dad hadn’t wanted him around anyway, and his siblings were all too wrapped up in their own grief to care about his.
A hand on his arm pulled him out of the nightmare. Petra was guiding him to the left, toward her house. Good, almost there. Time to get out of the past and focus on the present. On ensuring his daughter didn’t see the same fate as his mother.
Because a crazy dragon who was able to perform witchcraft and had arranged to kidnap his daughter was as bad as cancer.
Rebecca was laid out on the couch, eyes closed, appearing to be asleep, when they walked into the guesthouse. Petra rushed to feel for a pulse, then expelled a deep breath. Apparently, the human girl was still alive.
“They obviously drugged her,” Noah said. “She’ll have a hell of a headache when she wakes up, but otherwise she’ll be fine. Go pack the essentials,” he added, pointing at the hall.
She glared at him, and if the situation weren’t so dire, she probably would have refused, but she was as worried about their daughter as he was, which he knew by the way she practically ran toward her bedroom.
When he stepped into the space a few minutes later, she had two suitcases open on the bed and was tossing items into them in a fairly systematic way.
“Do you have a car?” he asked. When she shook her head, he said, “What about Rebecca? Or Pacey?”
“They both do,” Petra said.
“Assuming her keys are in her purse, it’ll be easier to take Rebecca’s since she’s passed out than to ask Pacey and have to come up with a justification she’ll believe.”
“We’re going to steal Rebecca’s car?”
He shook his head. “Borrow. I’ll leave a note, explaining that her car will be at the airport. Wait—what’s the nearest airport to Thibodaux, without coming back to New Orleans?”
“Baton Rouge.” Petra paused with a stack of diapers in her hand. “Why is she sending us to Thibodaux?”
“What do you mean?”
