Jane Kindred - The Dragon's Hunt

But it wasn’t dry skin. It was these runes. They were a message for him. Somehow, he was certain of that. And the mark was responding to the message as though to a threat. He pondered the faded symbols on the wall as he sanded out the last of them. Leo straightened and frowned. That little spidery shape at the end—that wasn’t part of the runes. He’d thought it was messy punctuation or maybe a stray mark, but now... Another shudder traveled down his spine, this time one of revulsion. It was a crudely drawn swastika.

It brought new meaning to the words spelled out by the runes. It wasn’t the first time some nasty little vermin had tried to drag him into their racist bullshit. And nothing made him angrier than being mistaken for one of them. They’d appropriated his heritage, sullied the beauty of his ancestors’ mythology, twisting it to their own purposes. He wanted to find the little shits and crack their skulls.

He tossed the sanding sponge into the bucket and went around to the front stairs and checked to make sure his bag was still safe underneath them. Of course, the cat, so to speak, was out of the bag. He might as well take it upstairs. The army surplus duffel bag contained a change of clothing, the restraints and locks, and his beard trimmer. Everything he owned in the world. Leo slung the bag over his shoulder and mounted the stairs.

* * *

Rhea made a face at the spreadsheet on her tablet. Numbers were so not her thing, much less this annoying program. Theia was the one who had always been good with calculations. They’d talked about owning a shop together for years. Not a tattoo shop, of course. Coffee and books had ranked among the top five. They’d both liked the idea of a cat café. But in every iteration of that idle dream since high school, cats or no cats, Theia had been the one doing the books and the finances while Rhea was the artist and the public face of the business. Now she was stuck doing everything herself. Which wasn’t exactly Theia’s fault—she wouldn’t have been interested in opening a tattoo shop, but it still rankled that Rhea couldn’t even count on her for emotional support.

True to Theia’s pattern, as soon as Rhea started stewing about her, a text notification chimed on her phone. In addition to having prophetic dreams, one of Theia’s gifts was an uncanny—and annoying—sense of knowing when someone was thinking about her.

Thinking about you, Moonpie. Also an irritating gift for synchronicity. And for coming up with cutesy names.

Rhea switched the screen off and glanced up as Leo came in. “How’d it go?”

Leo rubbed absently at his right biceps. “I think I got most of it. Did you happen to see what it was?”

“It looked like scribbling to me. I thought maybe it was gang symbols. Why?”

“It was in the runic alphabet. Norse runes, specifically.” His expression said this was significant.

Rhea set down the tablet. “Were you able to read it?”

“It was a message about racial purity. Have they done anything like this before?”

“No, just stupid gang tags. At least, I thought they were gang tags.” Rhea tried to remember if she’d ever seen anything overtly racist. “You’re sure the message was about racial purity?”

“There was also a swastika.”

Rhea’s stomach clenched. “Fuck. I guess that’s pretty unambiguous.”

Leo’s eyes were hard. “The next time you catch them at it, you should call the cops.”

“I’m not a big fan of calling the cops on kids, but I’ve never actually caught them.” Rhea considered. “To be honest, I’m not even sure they’re kids. I just assumed.”

“Does anybody around here have a security camera pointed on the lot?”

“Not that I know of.”

“You should get one. Or a security guard. These groups usually escalate.”

“I can’t even afford to pay someone to clean up graffiti. How would I pay for a security guard?” Rhea noticed the duffel bag slung over his shoulder. “What’s in the bag?”

Leo glanced down as though he’d forgotten it. “My stuff. I was keeping it under the stairs so you wouldn’t think I was squatting here. Which I guess I kind of was. Sorry. It wasn’t my intention.”

“So you really are homeless.”

“I’m not an addict or anything. I just move around a lot during the winter. It’s hard to hold down a job and an apartment when you have to spend dusk to dawn restrained. People kind of frown on it when they find out.”

Rhea fiddled with the edge of the counter. Maybe she’d misjudged him. She liked to think she was open-minded about mental health issues. She wasn’t exactly the poster girl for neurotypicality. She was probably going to regret this, but that had never stopped her before.

“Why don’t you sleep here, then? You could keep an eye on the place.”

Leo’s eyes narrowed. “Are you messing with me?”

“I need a security guard, you don’t have anywhere to stay... It seems like a natural solution.”

Leo still looked skeptical. “You got the part where I’m not in my right mind and I have to be restrained until dawn, right?”

“But the vandals wouldn’t know that. If they see a light on, they’ll be less likely to try anything. And you can always call me—you have a cell phone?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a phone.”

“So if you see something, you could give me a call to alert me, and I could come by and catch them in the act. Assuming they stuck around that long.”

“You’re also assuming I’d be levelheaded enough to remember to call you—or to care. I don’t really know what goes on when I’m ‘out.’”

“Well, I do. I was here talking to you. You seemed perfectly lucid, just—kind of an ass.”

Leo laughed, that genuine laughter of surprise that made his whole face light up. “A lucid ass, huh? You know, I’ve never had anybody tell me what I’m like in that state. It might be useful to have an observer to document it. I mean—I’m sure you’ve got better things to do than babysit my lucid ass personality. But if you wanted to stick around to verify that I’m not doing drugs or calling pro-dommes to spank me in your back room, you’d be welcome to.” He grinned, running his fingers through his hair in a gesture that belied the easy self-deprecation.

Rhea pondered the idea. She’d be a fool to completely take him at his word. It wouldn’t hurt to keep an eye on him and see if he was putting her on.

“Why not?”

Leo cocked his head, studying her. “You’re serious. You’d let me sleep here—or not sleep, as the case may be.”

“Let’s just try it out for one night.” Rhea gave him her patented half smirk. “I’ll let you know what I think in the morning.”

Chapter 6

After locking up, Rhea finished off their Chinese takeout while Leo set up. It was like watching Houdini prepare for a straitjacket stunt. He was well practiced in setting up the restraints on each arm of the chair so that all he had to do was slip one arm in, tighten the strap and snap the lock into place, slip in the other arm, pull the strap with his teeth and wrap his fingers around the lock to close it. It was actually kind of hot. And now he was at her mercy, which she hadn’t thought about. She wondered if he’d thought about it.

Leo leaned back against the headrest, the scholarly glasses set aside as if his other personality didn’t need them. “I should warn you I’ll probably say anything to try to get you to release me once I’ve slipped into ‘lucid ass’ mode.”

“I’m aware.” Rhea raised a suggestive eyebrow without elaborating on what he’d said the night before. “I think I can handle you. It.”

It was Leo’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “There’s a reason I use the restraints. I might seem persuasive, even pleasant when I’m trying to manipulate you into releasing me, but I have it on good authority that I’m anything but when I’ve managed to wrangle my way out of them.”