Page 47 of Skulk of Foxes
Unfortunately not everyone possessed myjoie de vivre. Jodie, in particular, was growing more and more nervous the closer we got. ‘Is he going to be, you know, scaly? With big teeth?’
‘Very big teeth,’ I said. ‘All the better to eat us with.’
Morgan rolled his eyes. ‘If he’s anything like Chen,’ he said, ‘he’ll look like an ordinary man. And at five centuries old, he won’t be particularly fast on his feet. There’s nothing to worry about.’
‘Unless,’ I added, ‘the magic in the air is affecting him in the same way that it’s been affecting Julie and he’s now got actual scales and actual sharp fangs.’
‘Thank you, Maddy.’ Morgan didn’t sound particularly grateful. ‘I doubt that very much though.’
‘And claws that will rip through a human’s flesh with barely a swipe,’ I continued. ‘And a penchant for chewing on the skulls of his victims.’
He hissed through his teeth. ‘It will be fine.’
Jodie didn’t appear comforted by his words. Clearly she trusted my judgment more than Morgan’s. My smile brightened even further.
We halted outside the address the parish records had given us. The building certainly looked old enough. It was an imposing structure made of red brick, with four storeys stretching upwards into the night sky. I noted the satellite dish plonked on the side and wondered whether dragons enjoyed watching television. I found it hard to imagine.
‘How are we going to do this?’ Timmons asked nervously. ‘Do we sneak in or simply ring the doorbell? It is after three in the morning. Maybe we should wait until daylight.’
I waved a hand dismissively. ‘Daylight schmaylight. The Madhatter works in all conditions.’
‘The Madhatter talks about herself in the third person and possesses all the charm of a faeces-covered gnat,’ he muttered.
I raised an eyebrow. ‘Pardon?’
Timmons winked at me and I smiled back. It was good to see that he was growing in confidence when he talked to me. It made a pleasant change from seeing him cower in fear.
‘This is what we’ll do,’ I said. I spoke with an air of command. I intended to lead my troops into battle with the best possible strategy. I was going to lead from the front like all the best generals did. ‘First of all, we’ll search the perimeter, seeking out all the entrances and exits. Jodie and Timmons will take up the rear on the off chance that our Lung fellow decides to make a run for it. It’s unlikely, but we want to cover every eventuality. Morgan will ring the doorbell while I sneak inside via a handy open window. That way I can circle round Lung while he goes to answer the door. We’re not letting him flap his dragon scales away into the night if I have anything to do with it.’
‘And what’s Opulus going to do?’ Jodie asked. ‘Because it looks to me as if he has his own plan.’
I frowned at her before belatedly realising that the grieving Fey had crossed the street and was knocking loudly on the red front door. Gasbudlikins. What was the point of having a wonderfully strategic mind like mine if you were going to be completely ignored? I’d spent entire seconds coming up with that plan.
We exchanged looks and then darted over to join Opulus. I didn’t have time to admonish him or send him to the brig before the door swung open to reveal a man.
If anyone had asked me what I thought the human form of a dragon would look like, I would have described the man in front of us. He was wearing a red velvet smoking jacket with a cravat tucked neatly around his throat and tweed slippers on his feet. His hair was pure white, smoothly brushed back at the sides, and he boasted a frankly astonishing handlebar moustache that curled over his cheeks. Naturally he was smoking a pipe.
He raised an eyebrow at us. ‘Faeries,’ he grunted. ‘About fucking time. Get inside before the neighbours see you. That witch across the street called the police last time someone knocked on my door at this time of night. If I want five blonde escorts to visit me wearing fishnet tights and stilettos, that’s my business. It’s nothing to do with anyone else.’
My grin stretched from ear to ear. I loved him already. ‘I love fishnet tights,’ I purred.
He looked me up and down. ‘You don’t have the legs for them,’ he said matter of factly.
Arsebadger.
Morgan stepped forward. ‘Mr Lung?’ he asked. ‘George Lung?’
The man clicked his tongue. ‘It’s Liung,’ he said. ‘Honestly. Years ago one damned priest spells my name wrongly and for ever more I’m plagued with people like you who can’t pronounce a simple word properly.’ He glowered. ‘Now, get the hell inside.’ He turned on his heel and walked away. ‘And close the damned door after you!’ he shouted over his shoulder.
We looked at each other and shrugged. Then we did as the man suggested and entered the dragon’s lair. Literally.
I’d had a vague inkling of what Chen’s place was like before the fire from all the debris that was scattered around afterwards. Looking around Liung’s house, I suspected it was remarkably similar. There were objects everywhere; there wasn’t a surface that wasn’t cluttered with stuff. Some things looked incredibly rare and expensive, such as the glittering jewelled egg on a side table that could only have been created by Fabergé himself. Other things, such as the neon-pink plastic truck that had probably come with a McDonald’s Happy Meal, were less aesthetically pleasing or costly.
I reached out, brushing my fingers against a mink stole that was draped haphazardly across a china jug. From somewhere up ahead Liung barked, ‘Don’t touch anything!’
I touched it anyway. When Morgan sent me a warning frown I shrugged, but to avoid further temptation I stuck my hands in my pockets.
We passed several rooms that were filled to the brim with old newspapers. No wonder Chen’s place had gone up in flames if it was like this. One match and it would be kaboom. And no wonder Liung’s neighbours spied on him – they were probably terrified that he was going to set the whole street alight.
