Page 23 of A Subtle Scar
Last night, I’d been almost certain that I’d seen some of the same—distress, pain—in Chandler, but I hadn’t been quite sure. It had been such a fleeting emotion passing over the human’s beautiful face, but…it had nagged me.
Ten minutes into the journey, the phone I kept in my inside pocket buzzed, and I pulled it out. The Dragon Mother had texted me an address instead of calling. Right. Texting was de rigueur.
The teenager glanced over at my phone. I turned to him.
“She is not actually my mother. But she acts it,” I said, hoping that he would hear, over the ear buds.
The kid snorted. “Lucky you.”
He looked out the window, clearly hurting.
Yes, humans were delicate, and pain that we gods could bear had the power to shatter them. I wasn’t sure what to do about the teenager, because if I could, I’d have liked to make him hurt less.
I decided to do what I did whenever I met a human like him on public transport. I put my phone away and sat there, ready and willing to listen if he was willing to talk.
The ride was about two hours, but I didn’t mind. The teenager hadn’t talked, but he got up one stop before I had to.
“I didn’t mean to be a dick. Earlier,” he said after he’d already turned toward the door. “I’m glad you have someone.”
“Thank you,” I said and smiled at him. “You have someone too, you know. Maybe you haven’t found them yet, or maybe you have. But they are out there. The Dragon Mother was always out there, but I had to let her in first.”
It was half the truth, because Tiamat was a force of nature, and no one let her do anything. She just did. But I didn’t want to be too patronizing.
“Thanks, man,” the kid said and got off.
That made me feel hopeful, and with that hopefulness, I headed toward the address the Dragon Mother had given me.
After a few turns and crossing several relatively busy streets, I arrived at a nice apartment building. Or at least I thought it looked nice. It was well cared for and new, but I didn’t spend enough time near or in apartment buildings to really know if “nice” was the best qualifier.
The apartment I wanted was on the third floor, and I took the stairs rather than the elevator.
I got to Chandler’s door but didn’t knock just yet, unsure what I should say to the human to convince him to have a chat. It was much like with that teenage boy from before. Knowing the right words to say to a human wasn’t a skill I felt I had mastered yet, and knowing whether to speak or to listen was even more difficult. Then again, there were those lovely easy-to-talk-to ones like Florence the forensic technician last night. Who had expressed to me her disappointment that I was not open for anything sexual and that Lucy didn’t have any straight brothers or any brothers for that matter.
Before I could form a plan to overcome this hurdle, the elevator arrived, and out stormed Hermes.
“You again,” he said. “Get lost.”
“You used the elevator? What, can’t teleport?”
His face flushed. “It’s easier to follow the human’s magic like this, because it is difficult to trace, plus I didn’t want to accidentally teleport into his place,” Hermes said.
“I got here first, and I don’t teleport,” I said, sounding so very smug, which was fair because I had every right to be.
“It’s not about who gets where first, just like I told you last night, Ronny. And also? You forgot to comb your hair this morning.”
Oh, this god. What I wanted to do was tie him up and whip his ass. Which I might enjoy. “My hair is perfect. Your fly is open.”
It was extremely satisfying to see him look down at his closed fly. I giggled a little.
“You little—Ronny, that’s only funny until I sneak up on you while you sleep and shave all your hair off.”
I snorted. “I don’t sleep like the dead, and I actually wake up when something untoward is happening nearby. For instance, when people try stealing my comforter while they fucking sleep. In my bed.”
Hermes crossed his arms. “Maybe someone as delicate as you, someone who cannot sleep in a heated room without a comforter, should not be out and about on days like these. Maybe you should head back to whatever dark cave you call your own.”
“I lived in a cave for a few months because the Victorians all seemed to like it, but in hindsight, the Victorians were really weird. I know this, and I am willing to admit it. You know what they say about hindsight.”
“That it’s the loser’s foresight? Foresight being an attribute of the finer of us gods.”
